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Friday, February 24, 2012

"Behold My Son for He Makes All Things New"

      I have been blessed way more than I deserve and the greatest amongst my blessings is family. During a class discussion one of my students asked me, "Do parents love their children equally?"
     He further qualified his question by  (more or less) saying, "I think parents are lying when they say they love their children equally."
      I told him, "I think there's a lot of truth to that. I have three children and I don't love them all the same. They are each different and so is my relationship with them."
     I could easily write several blogs about each of my children and that is what I plan to do in the future. This blog will focus on my oldest son, Griffin.
     Griffin is 15 years old and he has autism. Roughly put, Autism is a neurological disorder that affects the development of a person's ability to communicate, to interact with others, and to socialize.
      A number of sensory integration issues can also accompany autism. For example, Griffin recently told us that the sound of hands on paper or turning pages in a book hurts his teeth. When he was younger, he could not stand the sound of a room full of people singing "Happy Birthday." I've always thought there was a droning quality to that song. One last example, did you know that fluorescent lighting makes a sound? It's a sound that often annoys autistic children.
            As noted above, autism can make life difficult and I want to make sure it's clear that there are thousands of people out there that have it a lot tougher than us. Keep up your efforts. You are in my thoughts and prayers.
      Like them, we've had many challenging days with Griffin. Meltdowns, the cruelty of other kids, and exclusion from Birthday parties have all been sources of sadness  and tears.     
     But this writing is not about the symptoms, challenges, and hardships of dealing with autism on a daily basis. It is about a boy with autism that right now is probably a better human being than his father will ever be. Self-improvement is a constant challenge for me, but an even greater challenge will be keeping this blog brief. It's quite easy for me to talk about Griffin, so feel free to ask any thing about him. The following are just a few of my favorite things about Griffin or Griff as I like to call him.
Mornings
      Griffin wakes up in a good mood every day. How many people do you know like that? He sometimes forgets that he is now 15 and he wants to snuggle with his mom or sit on my lap.
       "I am loveable," Griffin likes to remind us.
       Like most adults, my mornings are hectic and I'm rushing around thinking about all the things I have to to do as well as the things I didn't accomplish the night before. In short, I'm thinking about everything, but where I am, who is around me, and how I can  be a better father. Just when I'm about to go from moderate to meltdown stress level, Griff makes things clear.
      "Come on, Dad, be silly with me," he says.
      I'm ashamed to say that many times, I told Griffin that I was too busy or I don't have time to be 'silly' now. The fact is that none of the things I'm stressing over are that important. I mean, I'm not a CEO or a neurosurgeon. I'm a high school English teacher and I know there are a number of ways I could be better at my job. Being a better person is not the least of those. That's where Griff comes in. He helps me to be a better peson.
       There is a profound simplicity to the way he views the world and he has the emotional integrity of a saint. He also has a good heart and he cares about others. If he thinks he has done something wrong, he will apologize repeatedly. There is very little deceit in Griffin. He seldom lies. One night, Griff was in his room and I called out, "Are you asleep, Griffin?"
      "Yes," he said. He wasn't lying. He was just telling me what he thought I wanted to hear. There will always be issues with Griff, but I don't have to worry about his humanity. It is hard-wired into him.
Faith
       If Griff believes in something he takes it all the way. Religion is just one component to his faith. Every time we sit down to dinner Griffin will remind us to say our prayer. He also prays every night before going to sleep. He says pretty much the exact same prayer  every time, but I think God appreciates his consistency. There are a few occasional add-ons. Every December he prays, "Please, God, let there be a white Christmas, not a wet Christmas."
        Any family member or close friend that's troubled in any way or ill, is mentioned in Griffin's evening prayer. His weather petitions are sometimes self-serving, but I figure it's always good to keep that channel open.
        Griff loves Christmas and he thinks people that don't buy into Santa Claus are just about as wrong as they can  be. Beth sometimes worries about kids teasing him and it's a fair point. That being said, he gets my full support on his belief in Santa. I feel that there are things  in this world that can't be proven with 100 percent certainty one way or another. Santa Claus being among the most prominent.
       One of my favorite movies that most people have never heard of is Secondhand Lions. There is a scene that involves the great Robert Duvall giving some life advice to a young man. He says in his best Texas drawl, "Don't matter if it's true or not. If you wanna believe in it, then by God! Believe in it!" I've conveyed this to Griffin on more than one occasion.
Life Lessons and Perspective
       Griffin has obviously taught me a great deal about life--probably even more than the movies. He respects nature and wildlife. He really sees the beauty in animals.
       A couple of summers back I was cutting the grass when I found a dead Cooper's Hawk in our side yard. It was in almost perfect shape, except it was dead missing one of its eyes. I called Griffin out of the house because he was into birds of prey at that time. He came out and recognized it right away. I asked him to go and get a trash bag so we could get rid of it. He looked at me with his blue eyes and I knew what he was thinking. Something along the lines of, "That's messed up, Dad. You don't throw away a hawk."
       Man, was he ever right. I quickly back-pedaled and said, "Or you could get a shovel and we can bury him. That's what we did. Griffin and I buried the hawk then said the Our Father/Lord's Prayer. We closed or impromptu funeral service with a couple verses from "On Eagle's Wings." Talk about time well spent. Every time I see a flying hawk I think of that Hawk and Griffin. Griff reminded me of what I already knew. A hawk is one of those magnificent creatures that we can look at and say to ourselves, "God sure got that one right." The platypus, not so much.
       I could go on, but sometimes a writer reaches a point where he or she should just stop--forgive me if I went way past it. Perhaps, the greatest compliment I ever received came from my old friend and teammate, Jeff Smith. A number of families were spending the weekend at Tim Chaplin's place on Lake Freeman. I made a comment about Griffin, I don't remember what I said, but I will always remember what Jeff said.
      "You're good with him," he said. Words to live by.


P.S. I have attached a link to an article that was in The Indianapolis Star yesterday. It's about a book written by our friend Jane Webb and illustrated by Griffin Nickels. They have a book signing tomorrow (2/25). Forgive us for being a little proud and excited around here. Star article






  


    
    



Friday, February 17, 2012

"My Hound"

     Pet owners are usually categorized as either dog people or cat people. I had thoroughly convinced myself that I was content being neither one. Life is like that, just when you're used to one way of viewing the world a change-up pitch is sure to come at you.
     Six years ago this past October my family and I moved to Noblesville, Indiana. It's about 17 miles northeast of Indianapolis. It has been a good move. One of the first improvements we made on our home was to fence in our backyard. Shortly after we moved here, we decided that our boys were at the right age for a dog. Actually, I have that backwards. We obtained our dog and then we fenced in our yard. This was an early indication of just how much influence this new pet was going to have on our lives; both economically and emotionally.
      My wife and I mulled the idea over for a few days. I had told Beth that when I was little my family had a Basset hound named Mortimer--we called him Mort. Sadly, when I was younger, I suffered from allergies and we were forced to get rid of Mort.
        It's still a mystery to me, but somehow, my choice was honored--this mystery haunts my wife to this day. One February morning, Beth checked out the Indy Star's online classified section. We found a Basset hound at a cost that we thought reasonable. Later that day, we were on our way to Bargersville, Indiana to pick up our new puppy. Even though I think of Beth and myself  as relatively intelligent people, we often tend to be impulse buyers.
      I hate to be cliche', but it was love at first sight. Mort wasn't like most other Basset hounds. He was white with tan markings. Most Bassets tend to have three colors--usually brown, black and white. His ears were, and still are, not as big and floppy as other Bassets. He was not as long as most either. People would often ask us if he was a beagle. Like I said, we all fell in love with him instantly. It was a brief, but blissful honeymoon.
     The first year and a half were a bit rough. Barking, night whining, chewing, and house breaking were trying times, but we survived. Surprisingly, Mort survived it too. His early escapades were not as cinematic or destructive as depicted in Marley and Me; although there is a very funny incident involving three dozen chocolate chip cookies that were intended for my youngest son's classroom party on the last day before Christmas Break. I think I'll save that for another blog.  As I was saying, we all saw Marley and Me. The timing of it definitely worked in Mort's favor.
     Speaking of movies, here comes a plot twist. Mort was intended to be a pet for our sons, but that's no longer the case. He's  all mine. Mort is, as I often call him, "my hound."
        The boys love him and Griffin feeds him his evening meal, but he and I are buddies to the end. People that know me can tell  you that I'm a total geek for movie lines. I use them to greet Mort in the mornings and when I come home in the eveninngs. These are just a few of my favorites along with the movies they come from:
  •  "I see you, Mort." -Avatar
  • "Did you bark at any body today?" -Rocky II
  • "You can say what you like about my wife and kids, but I'm going to have to ask you not to talk about my dog."- a paraphrase from Hidalgo
     Winston Churchill said, "There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man." I think that reflects how I feel about Mort. I'm often the first one up and the last one to go to bed. Mort is usually there to keep me company. He's not much for conversation, but he makes up for it by being a hell of  a listener.
      Occasionally, I feel bad because I sometimes think that  Mort deserves a better owner. I could be  much more attentive. He deserves to go on more walks. I often scold him when he is under foot and nearly causes me to trip. Think about this. Is there any other creature that you can put in a cage for 8 or 10 hours and when you let him out he is thrilled to see you?
     I try to make up for it in other ways. Mort never gets into our bed when we go to sleep, but most mornings he wakes up there. This usually occurs in the wee hours of the night after Mort has woken me so that I can let him out. I know his unconditional love and loyalty deserve more, but I think he knows how I feel about him.
       To be clear, I am not one of those that look upon their pet as a person, but he is a true companion. It's also very hard to deny the strong resemblance. By the way, "Mortimer" is an Old French word for "still water." It seems to fit.
      Thanks for your time and please visit again.
      






Monday, February 13, 2012

Valentine's Day-REALLY?!?

        I'm going to apologize right up front, because I'm quite sure I'm going to offend some of you. Tomorrow is the crown prince of silly-assed holidays. Sure it's fun if you're under the age of 10, but do we really need this special day for romance and chocolate. By the way, I like chocolate. I like it a lot. Why not show a bit more love the other 364 days of the year? I know I sound cynical, grouchy, and jaded, but I refuse to participate in this absurd excuse to pad Hallmark's profit margin.
       Now, before you blast me you should know that my lovely wife, Beth, is fine with this boycott. She will not put my aggressive zeal into it, but she is fine with treating it just like any other day. Let me replay a conversation from Sunday:

      "Hey, Beth."
      "Yeah, Mike."
      "We're not doing any thing for Valentines Day are we?"
      "No."
      "Good."
    
      If I bought one of those "as seen on TV" 6' teddy bears, my pretty wife would take it out of the box and beat me to death for wasting our money. I'm also quite sure a pajama-gram would not suddenly turn a Tuesday evening into Saturday night. 
    Our sons are 11 and 15, but when they were younger we would have something special for them on Valentine's Day and buy the little cards for their classroom exchanges and that was all well and good.
     My problem lies with those that make over it and expect something romantic from their significant other. I've worked with people like this--the majority of them are women. Shame on their husbands for indulging in it. These are the same people that watch The Bachelor & The Bachelorette. I'm sorry, but watching those shows has to be the greatest waste of time ever conceived of. And believe me, I know how to waste time with the best of them.
     People that get wrapped up in The Bachelor/Bachelorette craze and Hallmark's TV commercials should really check themselves. I don't remember where I heard it, but a wise man once said, "These are the people that took their favorite songs in high school way too seriously." The kind of person that uses the word "soulmate" in a sentence and somehow keeps a straight face.
      Now, before you pigeonhole me as one of those selfish moronic husbands that our sit-com culture has created, let me be clear. I do not hate romance. I think romance is fine. I've enjoyed several romantic comedies with my wife. Most recently, we watched a very good one called Midnight in Paris.  It was intelligently written and taylor made for English teachers. It wasn't just a good romantic comedy. It was a very good movie.
      When I proposed to my wife I quoted Robert Browning as follows:

Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made.

       She said, "Yes," by the way.
       To me the thought above is romantic. Having a partner in your life and being devoted to them is romantic. Canandian geese and wolves that mate for life are romantic--ideally with their respective species, but I have nothing against mixed marriage. Raising decent human beings together is romantic. Women that cry while watching The Bachelor or The Bachelorette ARE NOT romantic. A guy that proposes on the jumbotron at a major sporting event IS NOT romantic, however he does need somebody to take the business end of a baseball bat upside his head.
          Just to show you that I'm not a total hater, let me wish you a happy Valentine's Day. If you want to take your significant other out to dinner or do something special for them, please do so. God bless you and pay your bills. Yes, it's okay to be romantic. Just don't be a sellout or a cliche' about it.


     






Friday, February 10, 2012

Word Choice: To Be Condescending or To Be Eloquent?

      In my previous blog I had mentioned that while writing for professors in college I developed the habit of trying to write and express myself in a way that would impress my instructors--much to the chagrin of my present day students. I sometimes offer the excuse that using "big words" makes my parents happy and that I don't want them to think they wasted their money during the 7 or 8 years I spent in my scholarly pursuits. At the time, I wanted to sound like I knew what I was talking about and it worked most of the time, although it was occasionally pretty high on the BS meter. My wife told me that I should avoid trying to use words that people would have to look up. I agree to a certain extent, but there are times when every day words are ... well, insufficient.

      I'm reminded of  questions I  hear from my senior students when we are reading Hamlet:
  • "Why do we have to read this?"
  • "Why can't they just talk normally?"
  • "When are we going to use this?"
  • "Is there going to be a test on this?"
       I think they are just as frustrated with my answers as I am with their questions. Some of my responses are:
  • "We study Shakespeare not because it is easy, but because it is hard."
  • "You guys do realize they're speaking English, right?"
  • "You have been hearing and quoting Shakespeare your entire lives."
  • "Yes."

       You can almost hear the stereophonic groans now. I also try to explain to them that Shakespeare is called the father of English literature because he used the English language to explore the human condition and psyche as no one had before. The groans continue, but I usually win a few over by telling them some of the every day words that are often attributed to Shakespeare:
  • household words
  • eyeball, eye drops, eyesore
  • hot-blooded/cold-blooded
  • on purpose
  • watchdog
  • puking
       Eventually most of them concede that "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers..." just sounds better than "us guys."

       Alas, I digress just a little bit, but it suffices to say that the English language and the American lexicon are  rich, alive, and wonderfully complicated. There is always room for both the complex and the common.
      I should stress that while I strive to write as an eloquent intellectual, I also abhor pretentious pedants and their tedious talk, although I am a fan of alliteration.
      When writing, word choice is often determined by audience and conversational context. Believe it or not the discussions I have with my English department colleagues are quite different from those I have with a bunch of guys in McGillvery's Pub that have known me for about thirty years.
      Yes, I'm a little biased toward 'high-falutin' words and with all due respect to my beautiful bride,  sometimes word choice can be just as much about variety and sound as it is about conciseness and clarity. I am just trying to be true to what I perceive as my voice. "To thine own self be true," Polonius (from Hamlet) said--it's worth noting that he was a political buffoon that talked so much he got stabbed to death.
      So if you find my voice and/or word choice condescending or obnoxious please feel free to let me know. I may or may not agree with you, but I'm sure I would enjoy hearing from you in either case. Thanks for indulging me to the end.


Wednesday, February 8, 2012

A Leap of Faith

       I have decided to join the digital age of creative writing. This is my first blog and I apologize to any one kind enough to take the time to read it. It will be somewhat stream of consciousness.  I am an English teacher by profession and a writer in my dreams. Writing is one of the things I truly enjoy. It is a creative outlet and I made a New Year's resolution to do more of it. Like the cliche goes, "A writer writes."
      It's fair to assume that means every day--we know what happens when we "assume." Perhaps this endeavor will help me develop the good habit of writing daily. I have a lot of mixed feelings and inner questions  about this. Am I being arrogant or narcissistic? Who am I to think I have something worth saying or that whatever it is is worth reading? Is my inferiority complex showing?
     For what it's worth, I'm not a total stranger to writing. In fact, I think I'm much better at writing than I am at teaching people about writing. I was published in college once. I wrote an essay that was published in a school literary magazine. My wife and I were planning our wedding at the time so I wrote an essay from the groom-to-be's perspective. I dig it out once in a while and it seems verbose and sappy to me. I'm still trying to break the habit of trying to impress college professors with my writing and word choice. I know my students find it annoying.
        I've also written some short stories that I've read to my family members during the Christmas season. The story started out as hackneyed version of Dr. Seuss meets "Twas the Night Before Christmas." It  was a way to chronicle the yearly events of every one's lives, but now that people are getting older the format doesn't seem to work as well. Like every other frustrated and lazy writer I have a story/novel I'm working on as well. I almost never refer to it as a "book" because it's not one of those until someone publishes it and Steven Spielberg's people contact me about the movie rights.
      I'm not sure about how to frame or classify my blog. I was told not to have too narrow a theme and that sounds good to me.  Suggestions and a little constructive criticism are welcome. If you read this whole thing, I thank you. Was it too long?