My Christmas List

Unlike most years, my list of wants for Christmas this year is very short.  Instead of people (namely my mother) buying a variety of less expensive gifts, I’m hoping to have each person who might be in the market to buy me a gift pool their resources for one big purchase.  And rather than me take the time to actually write out a brief Christmas list, I’ve decided to make a production out of it.  This isn’t new.  Last year, rather than a simple typed or handwritten list, I did a power point presentation.  So, mom, here’s my Christmas list, in all it’s glory.

1.  The Big Present:  No, I don’t expect people to buy this for me.  I’m hoping to receive a substantial amount of cash and Dick’s Sporting Goods gift cards to pool it all together and go get this.  It’s not for me, it’s for my kids. 

 

2. Yeah, I probably could use some new T-Shirts as well.  Just an example of what I think people should get me:

3.  And finally, the gift to end all gifts.  Consider this my Christmas, birthday and graduation gifts all rolled in to one.  My wife and I have earned a vacation: that’s right, an Alaskan Cruise.

In case you need my mailing address to send me any of the above gifts or anything else you might come up with, just ask and I will give it to you.  If you plan on sending me a fruit basket, then it is time to re-evaluate our relationship.  Merry Christmas!

My “Mommy” Blog

There are probably about a million blogs on the world wide web.  Maybe more.  The subject matters vary greatly, everything from do-it-yourselfers, to cooking, to history and theology.  You could pretty much write about anything you could possibly want and there is someone out there that might find it interesting.  Or not.  But the great thing about a free, web based forum is that it doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t matter if everyone reads what you have to offer.  It doesn’t matter if there isn’t a soul the earth that likes what you have to say. 

For me, there is no real method to my madness.  I write about whatever happens to be on my mind.  I’ve written everything from stories about my kids, thoughts on sports, my theology, and my life struggles.  I have a hard time placing exactly what my subject matter consistently is, and who my ideal readers might be.  And I’m okay with that.

And like some of my past posts, occassionally I like to pick a fight.  And today i’m in a fighting mood.  I’ve had the opportunity to see and read hundreds of blogs in the last few weeks thanks to a recent ankle surgery that will put me off work for the better part of two months.  The sheer number of “Mommy” blogs out there is astounding.  My bet, with no actual researched data to support my cause, is that half of the blogs out there are these “mommy” blogs, blogs written by wives and mothers with the primary subject matter being children, husbands, cooking, and other daily activities that encompass your average mom’s life.  Now, I am in no way bad mouthing these writers, and in fact some are very good.  I just find it interesting that there are so many, and I have found zero written by dads.  Not a single one. 

There are a few blogs and websites written by supposed experts that are decent reads, but as I read them I sometimes wonder if these people actually have kids.  I question if they have actually ever dealt with a child on a daily basis, and aren’t just regurgitating what they read in a text book somewhere.  There are very smart people out there who don’t know a thing about actually raising a child.  So, like I’m prone to do, I’m putting in my two cents.  Am I a perfect father?  Of course not, and I will guarantee that I screw up as often as any parent out there.  But I have my views, and I have my opinions, and it would be unlike me not to share them.

Dan’s Quick Guide to Parenting

Just a few ideas out there for all the 21st century parents that I’ve figured out in my almost 9 years as a dad.

1.  I wasn’t put on this earth to be my children’s friend – This seems like a novel concept, a dad who doesn’t care if his children like him?  No, way!  Well, that’s somewhat of an exaggeration.  Certainly, I want to have a good relationship with my children.  But they don’t need to like me, and if they do, that’s just a bonus.  To me, it is more important that my children respect me, respect my authority, and do what I tell them regardless of whether they want to or not.  My role as a parent is not to give my child everything they want, my job is to give them everything they NEED, and that sometimes makes them mad.  Tough! 

2.  Setting lofty demands of your child isn’t a bad thing – I know, I know, kids will be kids, and kids make mistakes.  I get it.  But kids WILL live up to your expectations, and if you set those expectations too low, than the results will be low as well.  I expect my children to behave appropriately at school or there are serious consequences.  The result of this expectation is the fact that my kids are rarely disciplined at school and get rave reviews for their behavior.  I expect my children to do their homework the day it is assigned and turn it in the following day regardless of when the due date is.  The result, well, they do their homework the day it is due, and turn it in the next day, never having to do last minute work or failing to turn stuff in on time.  I do not expect my children to be perfect, and I understand that they are going to make mistakes.  However, I do demand that my children give 100% in all that they do, whether it is something they enjoy or not.  And they do, and you would be amazed at the results.

3.  It’s okay to make your kids do things they don’t want to do – I really don’t care if my children want to participate in sports.  I don’t care if they hate it.  There gonna play.  And there gonna give it everything they have.  Understand, it is not because I expect my children to become the star athlete.  It is not because I’m trying to create Dan clones to roam the halls of my alma mater.  I do it to create discipline.  I do it to find ways for them to use their time in a positive way.  I do it to teach them teamwork and competition, both of which are an important part of life and the real world.  I do it so they understand what it means to try new things and never underestimate yourself. 

4.  Your children were not created equal, so why should they all be treated the same way – Yeah, I said it!  You can call SRS at your leisure.  Everyday I check Brett’s progress at school.  Everyday I check his grades and I check his homework, and I force him to sit down with me to do his homework.  I don’t do this with Maci.  Am I calling Brett out a little?  Probably.  But here’s the fact:  Brett struggles with school, Maci does not.  School is easy for Maci, and she is our families best shot at a Valedictorian.  Do I treat them differently when it comes to their school work?  Yep.  Do I treat them differently when it comes to the social aspects of childhood?  Guilty as charged!  Why?  Simply put, Brett is more sociable than Maci.  Brett has more friends than Maci, more good friends who call and extend invites on a regular basis.  So what happens?  I tell Brett no sometimes.  I NEVER tell Maci no.  She wants a friend to come over, great.  She gets invited elsewhere, we make it happen.  You can call me a bad guy.  And I’m okay with that.  Brett still goes twice as often as Maci!  I love my children equally, and my expectations for them are the same.  But they are not the same.  They need different things, and I need to provide for them differently.  Call me old fashioned, and I’m sure you will, but my responsibility as a father is to raise my sons to be men, and to protect my daughter until her husband comes along to assume that role.  Sorry, it’s what I believe.

Yeah, I know, I’m out there.  I’m gonna guess that only about 10% of the population would agree with me.  But, I’m okay with that.  I don’t coddle my children, I don’t baby them, and I am tough on them.  And sometimes they don’t like me.   But they know what is expected of them.  And they know that I love them. 

 

The Sunflower Showdown

So, here we go again.  A couple of years ago, I posted a blog in regards to rivalries, most notably my disdain for Missouri and Kansas State fans.  For some, it was a breath of fresh air, and not surprisingly those that agreed with me were of the Crimson and Blue persuasion as well.  For others, well, they were largely offended.  For that I apologize.  In a moment of passion and anger, I typed out what I was feeling, geared towards only a few specific individuals, but I encompassed all of Powercat Nation.  For that there is no excuse.

But here we go again.  As I type this, KU football is sitting at a confusing 1-2, after losing to Division II North Dakota State, beating 15th ranked Georgia Tech, and then laying an egg to Southern Mississippi.  Kansas State on the other hand, is sitting at 3-0, having beaten UCLA, Missouri State, and Iowa State.  And the comments begin.  I have been barbed, poked, needled, etc., about all of this.  And the two teams haven’t even played yet! 

Here’s the real problem: this is not all K-State fans.  In fact, I can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s not even exclusive to alumni of the university.  For example, my friend Travis, a grad, loves the rivalry but cheers for his team and pays little to no attention to what KU is doing until the Sunflower Showdown arrives.  We may exchange a few barbs, but it’s light-hearted and fun.  It doesn’t help that Travis happens to be the nicest guy in the world, and I marvel sometimes at this and try to emulate some of his characteristics.  A second example is my cousin Jenn, who graduated just this past year from KSU.  She cheers for her Cats, and loves them with a reckless abandon.  But she feels no need to join in the fray, and may well be guilty of cheering for the Hawks when they aren’t playing a team in purple. 

Instead of getting mad, getting into an argument, or making someone else mad (again), I decided to do a little research.  I began to question why I was a KU fan, and decided I had a choice I could make.  It’s no coincidence that I recently re-read Lee Stobel’s “A Case For Christ”, and I decided to take on his tactics.  While I didn’t meet with any experts, a couple of quick Googles, and few trips to the ever reliable Wikipedia, gave me all the answers I needed.  So here’s the facts, just the facts.

Football

The KU versus K-State football rivalry began in 1902 and has been continuous since 1912.  KU leads the all-time series 64-38-5, even giving K-State the win in a disagreed outcome from 1980, in which KU won, but had a player later declared ineligible for that game.  Since beginning football, KU has won 15 total conference championships, but haven’t won a single one since their Big 8 days,  and been to 12 bowl games, most notably the 2008 BCS Orange Bowl.  For the Cats, they have won 5 conference titles, most recently in 2003, and have been to 13 bowl games, 12 of which have occurred since 1993.  In effect, this is a tale of two different schools.  KU has a much richer tradition in football spanning the last 100 years, but outside of an outstanding 2008 season, haven’t done much of note lately.  K-State, on the other hand, was statistically the worst team in college football history when Bill Snyder took over, having compiled a 299-500-41 total record, up to the 1989 season.  But, K-State actually had one of the  highest winning percentage in all of college football for the 1990′s, and even reached as high as the #1 ranking in 1998. 

Since the inception of the Governor’s Cup in 1969, K-State holds the edge in the series, 21-19-1, and has an edge in the last ten years with a 6-4 record against KU.  Historically, KU has the edge, but K-State holds a slight edge in the modern era. 

Basketball

The KU-K-State basketball rivalry began in 1907.  The all-time record favors KU 180-90.  Since beginning their basketball program, KU has won 53 conference championships, all but one of the Big 12 championships since the conference began, played in 13 Final Fours, and has won 5 National Championships.  K-State has won 17 conference championships, been to 4 Final Fours, and in 1951 lost to Kentucky in the National Championship game.  If you really dig into the numbers, you will find that K-State actually has a much richer tradition in basketball than in football, but up until the last few years, have been pretty poor.  KU, well, there KU and the numbers speak for themselves, including being second in all of college basketball in total wins. 

More recently the series has been lopsided.  KU has won 33 of the last 35 games, and 9 of the last 10.  During that span KU rattled off a 31 game winning streak against the Cats, and even managed a record 29 game winning streak on their opponent’s home floor, from 1983-2008.  Clearly, we can’t give anyone the edge in this than KU.  It’s been lopsided over the last 100 plus years, with KU winning 2 out of every 3 games they play K-State. 

Everything Else

So, how do they compare in everything else.  Well, I will admit that K-State women’s basketball has been a solid program for many years, and KU hasn’t done a thing since Lynette Woodard graduated nearly 30 years ago.  Edge: K-State.  KU has won 3 indoor and 3 outdoor track National Championships in their history, to none for K-State.  Edge:  KU.  Neither men’s baseball team have ever done anything.  Edge: Wichita State University!  And I honestly couldn’t find information on softball for either squad.  Volleyball?  Edge: K-State, but only because it’s late, and I don’t want to seem one-sided, and most of you only care about football and basketball anyways. 

Summary

At this point, if I have to spell it out for you, then frankly I’m surprised you were even able to read this far.  You can needle me, heckle me, send me a text, make a snide remark, whatever it is you want to do.  But I’m a KU fan, and I think I have made a case for why.  From this point on, I will simply refer to this blog, and tell everyone to just check out the numbers.  So for those of you who want to make comments, call me when the Wildcats have actually done something.  KU has 12 combined National Championships, and K-State has none.  ‘Nough said.  Rock Chalk!

Randomness and Rambling

Hitting

Catching

1.  I’ve decided I’m THAT dad.  Unhappy with my own accomplishments as a child, I have put all my eggs in my children’s basket.  Just yesterday, I informed my 3rd grader that, now that he’s on an actual grading scale in school, i.e. A, B, C, D, F, that I EXPECT all A’s.  No pressure there Brett.  And on top of expecting all A’s, I expect him to be the star football, basketball, and baseball player in school.  Nothing like setting the kid up for failure.  Instead of putting money into a college fund for him, I’m thinking a therapy fund might be more appropriate.

2.  I’m not all bad when it comes to the first thought.  I don’t do that with Maci or with Brandon.  Just Brett.  Donations can be made to the Brett Claycamp Therapy Fund c/o Peabody State Bank in Benton. 

3.  I’m about 90% sure I’ve convinced my wife to let me get another tattoo.  It’s only taken ten years.  I’m thinking about getting a wood, rustic cross on my right arm, with a verse inside it.  Stay tuned for any announcements.

4.  Patience is not a virtue I have, and now I get to sit back and wait to find out more on my ankles.  Next appointment is with the specialist on September 16th, and we will see what the next step is.  For those of you considering sending flowers should I have to have surgery please don’t.  Send booze.  Not for me, though, for Carey.  Three months is a long time to wait on your husband’s every need, while I’m laid up. 

5.  As a child, I had a recurring nightmare that a giant Twinkie cowboy was trying to kill me.  As an adult, I’m fat.  It’s gonna be a slow, painful death, but that Twinkie will eventually get me.

6.  I was reading my sister’s blog, which I would tag if I knew how.  She reminded me of the WORST teacher ever.  Mrs. Brice, my second grade teacher.  She hated me and the feeling was mutual.  She was very disappointed to find out that I was nothing like my goody two-shoes older sister.  I survived.  She retired after that year.  Coincidence?

7.  Because I was something of a wild child, I’ve began to really look at my kid’s friends.  Which ones are gonna be good?  Which ones are gonna be trouble makers?  The problem is, I’ll never know.  My kids won’t tell me.  Which reminds me of my own youth.  I had two friends that my parents thought were angels, Chad and Mike.  I had two others that my parents thought were monsters, Colby and Josh.  Anytime I wanted to do something with Chad and Mike, my parents were all smiles.  The other two?  A lot of questions.  But 20 years later I can tell you that the first two were infinitely worse than the others.  Colby never thought of anything bad to do, he was just involved.  Josh was never around, being that he worked a job from the time we were 14 on, and he spent the rest of his free time with his girlfriend.  Chad was sneaky, quiet in his mischievous endeavors.  Mike was a suck-up.  It was nothing to go out and do something horrible with Mike, and then have him sit in your living room and chat your parents up for half an hour before leaving.  Think Eddie Haskell with skills.  These experiences may help me decipher which kids to allow into my home.

8.  Brown Chicken Brown Cow.

9.  Number 8 may have confused you, but there will be some who get it.  If you’re not one of those that get it, then I’m sorry, you’re not in the loop.

10.  Do you ever get on Facebook, look at some of the pictures of your former classmates and think to yourself, “Man, they really let themselves go!”  Then you step in front of a mirror and say to yourself, “Crap, that’s probably what they say about me.” 

11.  I have been criticized for not having a technically correct writing method.  I have heard that from a few instructors and someone else who shall remain nameless (you know who you are).  I understand that there are certain grammar thingies that are right and wrong.  I just don’t care.  Who talks with proper grammar?  I prefer to right something that when somebody repeats it back to themselves they understand it and it sounds like something that might actually be happening.  If you don’t like it, don’t read it.

12.  So, they want to build a Mosque near Ground Zero.  I have so many thoughts on this it’s not even funny.  I understand that the perpetrators of the 9/11 attacks were an isolated, radical group of Muslims, and do not represent the Muslim faith as a whole.  I still don’t care.  It’s in bad taste.  Pick another location, and have respect for the victims of that attack.

Walk like an Egyptian

I like to think that I prepare myself for the worst, and then nothing ever turns out as bad I had anticipated.  I’d like to say that.  I can’t.  And this week has been just another let down for me that I wasn’t prepared for.

I knew my ankles were in bad shape.  I knew it.  They hurt when I walked, they would hurt for weeks after I’d run, and sometimes they would hurt when I was laying on my back with my feet up in the air.  Every morning it takes me a couple of hours to loosen them up enough to where I can walk without a limp, at least a less noticeable limp.  So I knew they were in bad shape, and that the news from the doctor was going to be less than positive.

I figured, worse case scenario, I would need surgery, to clean them up, re-attach a ligament or two, get rid of some of the scar tissue, etc.  It’s never good to have surgery, but I figured this was minor surgery in the grand scheme of things, and something I needed to have done.  After 9 major ankle injuries in the last 15 years, and chronic abuse to my feet from years of working physically demanding jobs, I knew I needed them fixed.  And it was time.  Let’s do this.

I wasn’t prepared for this, though.  I wasn’t prepared to hear that I needed a full reconstruction on one, and a partial reconstruction on the other.  I wasn’t ready to hear that I’m going to get to lay on my back for 4 or 5 months while they heal.  I found it odd when the doctor seemed optimistic that he might be able to salvage the joint.  For real?  You consider that the good news?  Okay, maybe it is, but is it that much of a concern that you used THAT as the silver lining?  UGGGHHH!  THAT’S THE GOOD NEWS?

Okay, so I’m working through this in typical Dan fashion.  First, and always first, it’s anger.  I’m pissed at the world for this happening to me.  Nevermind the fact that I didn’t take the doctors advice on several different occassion when they told me to stay off my foot for 4 weeks to let it heal.  Nevermind that once I started practicing again 6 days after one injury and 9 days later played in a full game of basketball.  Nevermind that on another occassion I tore it up on Friday, and went back to work on Monday.  This can’t be my fault, I wouldn’t do this to myself.

The next step for me is the humor.  Hey, it happens, right?  Maybe they can give me bionics.  The Six Million Dollar Man and I can go fight crime.  Yada-yada-yada.  I’ll make jokes, laugh about it with my friends, but generally seem “alright” about it. 

And then I jump into worrying.  How in the world am I going to provide for my family when I’m laid up for 5 months?  I can’t do my job with this, so I have no choice but to sit and home and wait to heal.  How am I going to manage?  And, maybe more importantly, what am I going to do for 5 months?  I’ve been on vacation a week and I’m bored to tears.  Can you imagine where i’d be in that length of time?  I feel sorry for everyone who may come in to contact with me during that time.

The last step for me is the rationalization stage.  Fact:  My ankles hurt.  Fact:  My quality of life isn’t what it should be because of this pain and inability to fully function.  Fact:  It is not going to get better if I ignore it.  Fact:  I have to get this done.  Once I rationalize it out, and put my options in front of me, it becomes somewhat obvious.  I am going to get this done.  I need to get this done.  And boy it’s going to suck!

So, here’s where I am at:  Last week I met with an othopedic surgeon to have my ankles looked at.  We did X-rays, he viewed them carefully and gave me his initial prognosis.  He ordered MRI’s, which were also done last week, and I’m awaiting the results of those now.  He is conferring with a specialist, and I hope to hear something this week.  And that’s it.  I don’t have anything further I can tell  you at this point.  But, because I don’t deal with things like a normal human being should, I figured this would make for a good blog.  Or maybe several.  Maybe this is a chance for me to document my experiences with this whole process in the hopes that someone else out there can learn a thing or two, and make their own informed decisions.  And maybe you can all laugh at me a little when I complain about the pain, the crutches, and the strange odor coming from the cast. 

Check back for updates!

Dan in real life

The dreams varied, but were inevitably the same.  Life was moving forward, springing forth with new challenges, obstacles, and tests.  Each and every time I was presented with a challenge, some simpler than others, each tasks my calling to complete.  The dream would end with the alarm clock each morning and I would awake in a cold sweat not really knowing what the outcome was.  But the feelings were always the same.  Failure.  Dropout.  Loser.  The sense that I was ill equipped to provide for those that were relying on me because of my own choices, plagued me each morning.  For me, a college degree is less about the piece of paper or the job opportunities, but about rectifying a wrong and completing what I started.

Compared to most high school seniors, I had it made.    Laid out in front of me were scholarships, free rides just to spend a little time on the basketball court.  I loved the game, and took great pride in the recruiting process.  I was the big man on campus, and I relished every minute of it.  In 1996, I elected to walk on at Wichita State and pursue a college degree there.  

After just a few months on campus I realized the game wasn’t the same.  The fun that I had experienced in the prior 12 years was no longer there.  It was a job, a chore that had to be done each day.  Practice became something to dread instead of the highlight of my day.  Gone were the teammates I grew up with, replaced by the best athletes the coaches could find.  I hated it, and it penetrated every aspect of my life.  Within two months I dropped out, walking away from what could have been a great opportunity.

By Christmas of that same year, word had spread in the coaching community of my departure.  My phone began to ring.  Smaller schools, junior colleges, began to recruit me all over again, offering me a chance for a fresh start.  I convinced myself that I had simply picked the wrong school to start, that things would be better elsewhere.  At semester I enrolled and began practicing at Dodge City Community College, a much smaller school with little to no basketball tradition.  It was a country school, a place where I would feel at home and could rekindle my love of the game.  I made it through the semester, I finished the season, and left.  And never returned.

My phone didn’t ring this time.  I had left two programs inside of a year, and had ruined any interest any other school might have had.  Even worse, in two semesters of college I had completed only 5 credit hours, when I should have been closer to 30.  It was a wasted year and I knew it.  I took a summer job, at this point having decided to just go to work, stop wasting my time and start earning a living.  It only took one summer of a job with a road construction contractor to decide that wasn’t for me.  But I had options.  My parents were financially stable, and would pay for college if I choose.  They had expectations, and my previous grade cards would not be tolerated.  But without the distraction of basketball, I figured, I would do much better.  I enrolled at Butler County Community College.

I did better the first semester.  Actually passed all my classes. I  began to enjoy college life, and all it had to offer.  Began to party, chase girls all over town, and really live up the freedom that being a college student had to offer.  The second semester I tanked.  I was withdrawn from two classes by my instructors and failed the rest.  My parents would no longer pay my way.  I needed a job, and I needed one fast.

I went to work, was offered a full-time position at a Wal-Mart as a department manager.  I met a girl, fell in love, and started to see my future shaping up.  A couple of years later, just shortly after my 21^st birthday I took a job with a beer distributor.  And I proposed.  I was making money, engaged to a beautiful woman, and quickly moving up the ladder at my job.  By the time we were married, I was a salesman, with the company car and fancy business cards.  Within two months of the wedding, my wife was pregnant.  I was living the American dream. 

I woke up one day at the age of 29 and realized I had truly hit rock bottom.  I hated my job, the stress, the pressure, the 70 plus hours a week I was working.  I realized I was a ghost to my two children, and it would be the same for our third that we were expecting.  I was an alcoholic and spent my free time far away from my family.  My marriage was falling apart, and I was to blame.  I was missing something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.  On June 29^th of 2007 I became a born again Christian.  I rededicated my life to my wife, my children, and to my Savior.  I stopped living in the past, and began working towards my future. 

The dreams continued, though.  This thing existed, began to take on a life of its own.  I loved my children and they needed stability.  In December of 2007, I began to make plans.  I enrolled again at Butler Community College.  I took on 12 hours that first semester.  I was on academic probation from the start, having amassed a .97 GPA in my first go around.  I made the Dean’s Honor Roll, and did so the next two semesters as well.  When I enrolled at Friends I had turned that .97 into a 2.64 GPA, no small feat in itself.  I was motivated and it showed.  It only took me three semesters to accumulate the necessary hours to enroll in the Friends program. 

I could give you a lot of reasons for going back to school.  The need for a better job, one that provides that more standard 9-5 schedule, and gives me weekends off.  I do need more for my family financially, something that can bear the full weight of the cost of three children.  These are absolutely legitimate needs.  But there’s more.  I had the golden road laid out in front of me, with opportunities even my friends dreamed of.  And I failed.  I failed miserably.  Each day I live with that.  But somewhere along the way, I accepted it.  It was my choice, and I quit living in the past.  This, however, is no longer about me.  It’s about Brett, Maci and Brandon Claycamp, my children and my inspiration.  I awake each day for them.  Every assignment is for them.  I push forward with the simple notion that someday, soon, their father will be a college graduate.  And for all of my shortcomings, for at least one moment they can hold their heads high.  I now dream of graduation, the cap, the gown, all the pomp and circumstance that are there.  But my dreams aren’t about hearing my name called, walking across the stage, or being handed this highly coveted and expensive piece of paper with my name on it.  I dream about the moments following the ceremony, the moment I see my children for the first time with a bachelor’s degree.  I dream of embracing them, seeing the pride in their face, and, if only for a moment, knowing their father is no longer a failure.

Not letting go………

Honestly, I have about four papers due this week, haven’t started any of them, a couple of other assignments due as well, so I shouldn’t be doing this.  But I am, and I’m reaching that burnt out point where I need a little something for me, or I will probably forget why I am doing all of this. 

 Truthfully, you probably shouldn’t read this blog, because it doesn’t matter to you.  You shouldn’t read it because it doesn’t involve you.  You shouldn’t read it because there is nothing to be learned from it.  The only glimmer you might see, is a deeper dive into who I am, and maybe even why I am the way I am.  But this is just for me.

I am 32 years-old.  I am a husband and a father of three beautiful, although ornery, children.  I am a full-time sales rep for a major soft drink bottler.  I am a full-time college student.  I coach little league and dedicate time to my church.  Bottom line………I am a grown-up.  I am a man, a man who rarely, if ever, cries, and who doesn’t really like anyone to know what is REALLY going on with him.  I’m vague at times, and have plenty of surface conversations.  Never really deep. 

I am a 32 year-old man, a grown-up, and I can’t talk about my grandfather.  It’s not that I don’t want to.  It’s not that I have nothing to say.  I simply can’t do it.

  I can’t do it without crying.  I can’t do it without missing him so much that I hurt for my kids knowing they never got to meet him.  I can’t do it without remembering every little thing about him and looking in the mirror and seeing those things present every day in me.  I can’t do it without remembering Old Spice and Marlboro Reds, and the smell of sawdust or grass clippings that always surrounded him.  I can’t do it without remembering his rough hands that never worked an easy day.  I can’t do it without remembering how much a hug from him hurt, but that it was so full of love you never wanted to pull away.

I can’t do it without thinking about suspenders, and the flattest butt around, which I ultimately inherited.  I can’t do it without thinking about every basketball game I played in, and how the buttons on his shirt were about to burst with pride, and that slight smile on his face the whole time.  I can’t do it without thinking about every Christmas present he made for me with his own hands.  I just can’t do it.

He wasn’t famous.  He wasn’t rich.  His job wasn’t of great importance. But, he was every man who ever put his family first.  He was of the greatest value to those who loved him.  You have no reason to know him, but you would have loved him too. 

He passed away fourteen years ago this month.  I was 18 years-old, and days away from my high school graduation.  And not a day has gone by since then that I haven’t thought about him, and missed him, and longed for just one more moment with him.

At his service the song “Wind Beneath my Wings” was played.  The chorus begins with “Did you ever know that your my hero?’  And every day for the last fourteen years I have asked that same question……Did he know?