Blog

  • Talking to My Daughter about Ukraine

    It’s been very hard over the past week to talk to my daughter about the war in Ukraine. A hard conversation, but one that I know we need to have. She’s seven, and sees the world as good guys vs bad guys, which I do think makes explaining this war to her a little easier. Putin is the bad guy for starting this war, that’s the easy part. Everything else has been challenging.

    I have found that the “Mr. Rogers Rule” works really well. That rule is simple, “Look for the helpers. When things are bad, there are always people wanting to help.” Luckily, there are still parts of humanity that aren’t garbage, and we have been pointing out how the people of Poland, and other nations as well, are helping with the refugees; giving food, shelter, medical care, and safety. We have even talked about what we can do here, to help all the people over there.

    Now, we don’t purposefully have her watch the news. Most of the time, when we tell her that we are going to put the news on, she will leave the room as that stuff is boring to her. But now and then, she’ll walk into the livingroom and catch something, an image; a building on fire, a blown up tank, or a dead body in the street. My gut reaction is that I don’t want her to see these things, but I don’t want to shield her, nor stop her from asking questions about difficult subjects.

    The one thing that I think she is grasping is that war is not good. Even the “good” wars were still awful.

  • Mask Free NYC

    Today is the first day that New York City has sort of done away with their mask mandate. Well… You still have to put on a mask if you use mass transit, but I think I will be doing that from here on out. The most important mask free part of the City are in the schools; no more required masks in the classrooms.

    Last night, the principal for my daughter’s school sent out an email, reminding parents that masks would be optional starting on Monday morning. Then she went on to request that parents talk to their children about respecting each student’s and family’s decision on whether to wear a mask or not. No teasing will be allowed, and we must respect each other’s choices.

    And we did talk to the kid about all of this. We asked her if she wanted to wear a mask or not; her choice was not to wear a mask. Then we talked to her about respecting her fellow student’s choice to have a mask on or not. That each family has to make that decision for themselves, and what might be right for them, could be different from us, and that’s okay. She said she got it, and would treat everyone the same. As we headed out for school today, the wife and I put a mask in her coat pocket, and another one in her backpack. We reminded her that it was okay to change her mind. That if she wanted to put her mask back on, she could.

    At the schoolyard, where all the kids line up before going in, I have to say that it was a 50/50 split of all the people there. The kid’s teacher had a mask on, and so did the vice-principal, and I understand that decision. They are the ones on the front line, but also, that mask will also help cut down on catching colds and the flu. So, I respect that decision.

    But what jumped out to me was that here we all were, (parents, students, teachers and staff,) doing what we think is best for our kids and ourselves, and everything was fine. Tomorrow might be a totally different situation, but at this moment, everyone is cool with everyone else’s choice.

    Walking home, it really didn’t feel like that much of a change. It still felt like it did the day before, with people in and out of masks. Everyone going about their business; Coming and going, still looking kind’a annoyed. You know, the New Yorker face.

    For me, it feels like a small step forward. I know we aren’t back to normal, and there is a good chance that we will never return to what normal was. But a step, even a very small one is progress.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Tottenham Woes Continue, Mushroom Stock, and Explaining War

    Tottenham lost their FA Cup match against Middlesbrough on Tuesday. (I head you saying, “Who did what now?”) Doesn’t matter. Tottenham should have won that match, it’s embarrassing, and I really don’t think there is any hope left for this team to make it back to the top of the rankings to at least make it to the Champions League for next season. Who knew that Mauricio Pochettino time as manager would be the high watermark for this club?

    Why is mushroom stock so hard to find? It used to be that we could easily get it around Thanksgiving, but over the last few years, it’s disappeared. I looked it up on Amazon, and I can either by a 12 pack for $48, or buy a single 4cup box for $3 but get charged $5 for delivery and $5 for a driver tip. I am also fully aware that I can make my own mushroom stock rather inexpensively and quickly, but I still wonder, why is this item so hard to find.

    This week the wife and I had to have a very serious conversation with our daughter. We had to explain to her that war is bad. And even when the good guys win, that still means a lot of innocent people had to suffer to get there. It’s not fun and games. A war is an awful thing.

  • One Month at the Gym

    I never thought I would go to a gym, let alone go for a month. I have completed four weeks of really just going to run on a treadmill for thirty minutes. The conventional wisdom is that I need to get eight more weeks in for it to become a habit. I would hope that with eight additional weeks, that I might start to enjoy it.

    For the record, none of the benefits of going to the gym have arrived. I have lost one pound, but I am not convinced that my working out caused that, or the fact that Trader Joe’s hasn’t had my favorite ice cream for the past two weeks. I am not sleeping better, I do not have more energy, and I do not feel more positive about life. So, 0 for 4 on the life changes.

    The one thing that I do like is that going to the gym has given a better structure to my week. Adding this activity means that I have less time to sit around and look at my phone, if I want to get all of my tasks, errand, and responsibilities taken care of. Not sure I would say that I am being more efficient, but I am more aware of how much time I have to get stuff done.

    Also, just like hiking last summer, I have to go buy more gear. I need more workout clothes, and I need a new pair of running shoes. The financial commitment has started, which is the sign that I want to take it seriously. Sink in the game means you want to win.

    And I do want to get healthier. At least, trying to be healthier so I have a little more time with the people I care about.

  • Short Story Review: “One Sun Only” by Camille Bordas

    (The short story “One Sun Only,” by Camille Bordas appeared in the March 7th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Having kids is easy, raising kids is hard. And on some days, you screw everything up, and it really sucks. Every time we make a mistake as parents, which is often, the wife and I kid each other that whatever the transgression we just inflicted on our daughter, that it will be the reason she goes into therapy. My mother would joke/not-joke that when I was in therapy, she was getting blamed for everything. Not everything, I would tell her, Dad made a lot of mistakes, too. Kidding each other was a big part of our relationship, and so was making lots of mistakes.

    I identified with “One Sun Only,” by Camille Bordas. It was a story about a middle-aged guy, trying to make it as a writer, dealing with the death of a parent, raising his kids while also making sure his children were coping with the death of their grandparent in a healthy way. (Holy Crap! It’s like this story was written for me!) But also, the story was about the relationship that the grandfather has with his son, and his grandchildren. The grandfather was a famous painter, and art played a big role in his dealings with his family. Of the two grandchildren, the older one, Sally, had the same artistic interest as her grandfather, and thus he showed her the most attention. Though the younger grandchild, Ernest, had the artistic skill, he was not interested in the form, which caused a distance between grandfather and grandson.

    Essentially, this was a story about death, and how different people deal/handle/cope with it. There was another death in the story, a school janitor who had a heart attack and dropped dead in front of Ernest and his classmates in the cafeteria at school, so the theme of the story was driven home pretty hard here. The most authentic parts of this story were the interactions between Ernest and his father, the narrator, especially when Ernest was drawing at the kitchen table toward the end. My only objection to the story was that the children point out how sad their father was, but I never felt the “sadness” was identified, given an example, or even addressed. It was just pointed out, and left at that. See, that stuck in the back of my mind as a red flag. Sally was given ample time to show how she was dealing with the grandfather’s death, and the climax of the story was clearly about Ernest ability to cope, but nothing for the father. The father was seen taking advantage of the money he had inherited, as he had bought a new apartment, and was taking a year off from work to write, but not how he was emotionally handling all of this. I do know that when a trauma occurs, some people make immediate changes in hopes of dealing with the emotions, which I felt was what Bordas was hinting at with the father, but he seemed to be enjoying these changes even though his children said he was “sad.” It’s like one puzzle piece was missing that would have tied all three together in their mourning.

    Also, this was a story about parenting; Both the good and the bad. Pushing your kids, and nurturing them. Tough love and understanding. The grandfather and father were not saints, and their parenting styles were opposite, but not completely wrong. For all the faults of the grandfather, he was using his skill set to raise his son the best he could. And his son was doing the same thing with his children. The story did leave me feeling hopeful for these characters. That they would get to the other side of this, in their own way.