This Picture is Too Cool for Words

Wood Box Wisdom / Get Old submission

At work I was asked to submit 500 words on my perspective on getting old. These submissions are to be posted on a new website getold.com to be launched at the end of June (I'm a little unclear on the details). I figured it was right up the dumbdumbdaddyo alley so this is was I sent:

The death of one who is young is a tragedy and for me this is proof enough that life is worth living. My big sister died when she was sixteen from leukemia. As children it is easy to believe that time is abundant and life is long. Death of a loved one, especially a child, teaches a hard and invaluable lesson that our time here on earth is precious and we don’t always know when the ride will end.

My parents faced many challenges raising their kids. With me, their youngest, allergies and asthma, bronchitis and pneumonia, broken bones and stitches, dyslexia and attention deficit disorder, bad teeth and every other childhood sickness that you can get seemed to come my way. With patients, love, and concern my mother and father taught me how to listen to the doctors and value their expertise. Most importantly they taught me how to take responsibility for myself and that it was up to me to find a way back to good health and live on.

As a young man I lived reckless and wild. If life was a ride, mine was a roller coaster and I was sitting in the front seat with my hands in the air. Good health for me was never easy. I collect chronic medical conditions like some people collect souvenirs and with that being the case I never expected to live very long. I took incredible risks like surfing in a hurricane and skiing off cliffs.

This all changed when I was blessed with the opportunity to start my own family. As a parent I have gained a great appreciation for what my parents went through raising me and my siblings. The greatest lessons I learned from them, however, came as a witness to my dad’s battle with old age. He would always say getting old isn’t easy, but it beats the alternative! When I was in college he had his first heart attack. Later he suffered a severe stroke and then rehabilitated himself back into his career. He had hip replacements and multiple complications from diabetes, but was able to walk down the aisle at my brother’s wedding. He had another massive stroke and quadruple bypass surgery. Again through rehabilitation was able to serve as my best man and gave the best toast a groom could ever hope for. He suffered amputations and transient ischemic attacks, but was there to meet my first child and his seventh grandchild.

My father died on a Monday and my second daughter was born that Friday. I flew a red eye to make his funeral the next day and another to make it back to bring my wife and new baby home from the hospital. On the flight home after four sleepless days I had a dream where my father told me that getting old is easy when you have something to live for, thank you!

You can read about a younger him at dumbdumbdaddyo.blogspot.com!

Gator Bowl Bound!

In his sophomore year my dad became the starting center for the Maryland Terrapins and by his senior year they had won a Gator Bowl, Orange Bowl and the Sugar Bowl for the National Championship and he talked about it as much as he did his military service, never.

He talked about football a lot and taught me everything he knew about the game he loved and hated, but he never talked about his success. Little things would come up now and then like how mad coach Tatum got when he got married the summer before his Junior year without his permission. He said he was in the dog house for the rest of his career.

He taught me how to long snap for punts and field goals. He said it would make me an invaluable asset to the team and then warned me about there being no glory in it and you would not even be noticed unless you screwed up, so don't screw it up. The best thing he taught me was to listen to your coaches especially when they are screaming in your face, it only means they care about you and the game.

He didn't talk much about himself so I am left to fill in a lot of blanks. Recently, I have uncovered some gems. I knew he was a starting center and the long snapper and he said he really loved playing defense. He said he played "some" linebacker and my mom told me about his interception against Michigan to win the game, but I have found this picture of another interception he had against BU. This means he had at least two interceptions and what did he teach me about; long snapping. About defense he would always just say, "Hit them harder than they hit you!"

I love the "Johnny-on-the-spot" description. It reminds of something else he would say about playing defense, "Just put yourself in front of the play and good things will happen." I think that is a good lesson for life in general. Have the guts to put yourself out in front of what's coming and good things will happen or you will get run over, but at least you'll be in play. This makes me think of another, "It's OK to fail, but never be a failure!" Now, I get it.

This picture blows my mind. His angle is all wrong. It looks to me as though the ball will get past him and the sprinting receiver is home free. Man, I'd love to see footage of this play. Let me see the replay! Looks like the quarterback is getting crushed so the ball might not have much on it, but in the picture it looks like it's a spiral. Either way, somehow my dad comes down with it. Awesome! What a moment. As I write this I am filling with pride for him. By the time I was born he had six fused discs in his back. This guy was kicking butt and taking names and hauling it down. Unbelievable.

Woodbox Wisdom is True

My dad had a bunch of yoisms about the truth. "Ain't it the truth" I think was just a hold over from growing up in the south. "The truth is the truth" was one that always made me think he was an idiot. But the more I think about it the more I appreciate its genius. He once said just because we each have a different view of the truth doesn't mean we are a looking at different places. He'd say just because you can't see it don't make it untrue. He'd say if the truth hurts you'd better listen to it or if the truth hurts it's trying to tell you something important. He'd say if you always tell the truth you'll have a lot less to remember. He'd say lieing to yourself doesn't make you smarter it makes you a lire and a sucker. He'd say follow your heart, it knows the truth before you do. He'd say know your heart and you will know yourself. I think these last few get close to the meaning of this scrap of wood box wisdom.

I think finding a little bit of truth is like playing in the zone. When time has less meaning and the world falls away and you become what you are doing as this truth reveals itself. You become what you were meant to be. When you finally are doing what you were meant to do. Making the perfect shot, hitting the perfect drive, running the distance, soothing someones pain, calming some one's anxiety, healing, loving, being where you were meant to be when you were meant to be there, saying the right thing at the right moment in the right way, being there for the ones you love, being needed, being loved. 

OK I guess I've come off the tracks and ain't it the truth!  

The little yellow sticky said my first big job. Pretty much from here he was always the boss. The guy in charge of huge association conventions, building buildings, writing magazines, giving speeches, speaking for industry, lobbying, traveling around the world, meeting presidents and raising a family. This guy I know. Except for the 215 on 6' 3" "well proportioned" part. My dad was always overweight. I remember him always on the wrong side of 250. It would ketch up to him, trunkle obesity, a big sign of metabolic syndrome would take a big toll on his heart. I digress. This is my dad seven years before I was born. He looks nothing like the loving, jovial, practical joking, self effacing, infuriating Dumb Dumb Daddy-o I grew up with.

I wish I had a chance to play cetch with this guy. I have a faint memory him playing in a men's softball league back in Cleveland when I was little. When I got bigger his sport became keeping from getting hurt by his 500 pounds of sons rolling around in horse play and golf.

I'd really like to play this guy in racket ball.

Wood Box Morale

Morale is what makes a man smile
In the face of death and hell,...

To be strong, to be loyal, to be free.
It is the biggest thing in a man's life, As high as hope, as deep as faith, as unfailing as Love.
It is rooted in religion itself---
The clear and unmistakable sign That man walks with his hand in the hand of God.

The morale at work has been a little low lately...I'm gonna have to work on this.

As a Marine on Foreign Shores - 1946

Now were talking! This is the guy I want to know. Nineteen year old "Marine on Foreign Shores" I don't know what shores. The south pacific was as specific as he ever got about his deployment. He once said that if it wasn't for the bomb he wouldn't have made it back. They were on their way to invade the shores of the Japanese mainland when his armada just stopped. "So don't give me any of this 'No Nukes' crap because without them you wouldn't be here!"

 I was going to post some trade magazine covers with my dad talking with Nixon and Ford, but in one of them a few photocopies fell out that seemed far more interesting. Each of the copies had a sticky note description and it looks like he had put them together for a high school reunion scrap book.

I can't believe this picture. Sitting there with his rifle looking tired. Helmet and rifle with his selves rolled up. I always pictured the end of the war as being quick and easy, Japan surrenders and everyone goes home to start making babies and all is well with the world. This picture is from the year after and he would be there a couple of more before making it to the University of Maryland. His expression tells me he knew there was still a whole lot of work to do. He wasn't home kissing nurses in Time Square.

If I was in this picture and could pull up a stump what would I ask this guy? What would I tell him about his future? If I told him right there that in a few short years he was going to marry a beautiful blond co-ed from a rich family, win the college football national championship and then go on to graduate from law school would he believe it? How could he?

I would tell him in twenty years he was going to have his fourth kid, a son. And this kid is going to ketch himself on fire a lot, collect countless stitches and broken bones and scrapes and bruises and your gonna think he doesn't listen to a word you say, don't, because he's not going to miss a thing and someday he is really going to miss his dumbdumbdaddy-o. A lot. So don't forget to leave him a box full of wisdom.

If you have read a lot of dumb dumb daddy-o you may have come to the conclusion that my dad was some kind of super hero. Maybe he was in some ways or maybe that’s just what I wanted him to be. Recently, I have been coping with a string of bad and confusing recollections that have slowed my pace of DDD posts to a crawl. This exercise in remembering the young man I didn’t get to know has me running into the old man I sometimes couldn’t stand and this old man is me.

My dad was so sarcastic I don’t know if I ever really knew what he was trying to tell me. Several years ago I couldn’t say anything to my daughter Chloe without her bawling and running to her room inconsolable. It was so bad I started to think there was something seriously wrong with her until my wife explained, “She doesn’t get your sarcasm!” Oh, what’s wrong with her is she has a dumb dumb daddy-o as a father.

Recently, I was playing a rare game of golf with a friend and on the last tee of the day I was punched in the face with a painful dumbdumbdaddyoism. I had been crushing the ball all day and driving the long ball is one of my favorite athletic accomplishments. Every once in a while, when the planets and stars align and the wind and gravity are in my favor I can make the green with my drive on a par four. I was sure this was going to be one of those drives so I gave it all I had duffing it in the process. The ball didn’t make it past the ladies’ tee and I strained my brittle back and worst of all I clearly heard my dad say, “You should swing a little harder next time.” I knew he was being sarcastic and it would make me so mad. So just like I would when I was a kid I teed up a Mulligan and swung for the fences. And just like back then I launched it impossibly far, rocketing it irretrievably out of bounds, and out of sight. My buddy asked what that was all about and I chuckled saying that one was for my Old Man.

“Hit it Alice.”

“Hardly worth looking up for!”

“You hit it where you were aiming.”

“This is a golf cart not a race car.”

“This is golf not ping pong.”

“This is golf not rocket science.”

“Go ahead and hit it, they’ll move.”

“If there was a green over there that would’ve been a great shot.”

“You better hurry up and slow down.”

“It’s already dead. You don’t have to kill it.”

“Swing a little harder next time!”

“What do I know? I’m just your Dumb Dumb Daddy-o.”

Dad, can you please not talk during my back-swing?

PTO President or School Board Member?

Suzy asked me last night if she should become the PTO President or run for the school board? I said she should do both. She's the last woman standing at our daughters' school. No one else will participate. She'll be President and the principle Mr. States (a walking blessing to our school) said he would take on the responsibilities for the remaining vacant positions. This past year she was Vice President and on the board at our pre-school, oh and she also works and blogs like a fool at savedbysuzy.blogspot.com. I told her to sleep on it and I prayed on it and this morning I pull a scrap of wood bx wisdom and it's written for her.

Suzy you are the only voice on the side of truth so your voice must be distinct and strong. Only you can make the difference. Mesa County and Sheledy Elementary Education can be SAVED BY SUZY!

No pressure but the wood box is wise beyond explanation.

My Dad was Las Vegas

Great night out in Las Vegas!

It was "his town!" Convention Capitol of the World. My Dad loved Las Vegas. He used to tell me a story about playing single deck 21 one night and non other than Elvis Presley came up and sat right next to him. He said within minutes the table was surrounded five or six people deep and Elvis apologized for attracting such a crowd and asked everyone at the table if it would be all right if he stayed and played a while. It was only then that he realized who he was and noticed the scene that was developing around them. Just a couple of southern boys playing 21 and sticking it to the house. He said they talked about the war and that Elvis asked him how he was from Alabama but talked like a Yankee. My Dad always made a point to say even Elvis had the good sense to stick to the two dollar tables. It's hard not to like a guy who calls book on every hand in single deck 21 and rejoices over his neighbors victories.

My Dad taught me how to play. I never saw him loose and most times I would get to play all night with his winnings. He said it was easy to count into a single deck. Easy for him maybe.

I didn't do so well this go around and heard him say, "You pay to play not to get rich." and "Loosing is no fun at all so when your loosing walk away so you can play another day."

Suzy and I went to the Reve, cruised the shops and finished the night with some dueling pianists. Most fun I've had in a while. I guess it's my town now.