The wife and I have decided to do a course correction in the life of our teenager. We have come to the opinion that both his older siblings have holes in their upbringing that we don’t wish to replicate in his life. Our son is not allowed to use electronic devices including computers, phones, and television during school nights—defined as Sunday evening thru Thursday night; however, this rule has not been enforced in any meaningful way because if we watch television, he is right there with us. This is not just to insure that he does homework but electronic stuff can end up being too much of a good thing.
We are trying three new changes this year to move in what we hope will be a better direction.
First, once a week, our son is responsible to fix dinner. We have set this as a Friday night event with three caveats; first, he can pick a night earlier in the week to complete this task but not later; second, if we eat out on Friday he is off the hook for the week; lastly, he must make a balanced meal. Chocolate cake and milkshakes is not a balanced meal.
Second, Wednesday night is reading night. We can either read by ourselves or aloud but reading is good and we need to do more. I’m thinking about doing a read aloud of a chapter a week from Paul Harvey’s Rest of the Story because my son has no idea who that is and I can’t get him to read the darn book.
Third, Sunday night is daddy school. For one hour a week, we will spend time with various aspects of the Christian faith such as doctrine and apologetics. Our son has spent his life in Christian schools but much of their theology is shallow (the Apostle Paul rightly called it, “the milk of the Word”). A few books we will be dealing with include Walter Martin’s Kingdom of the Cults and James Sire’s The Universe Next Door. I want him to have an answer for the hope that is in him and be able to discern truth from error. I also want to make an effort to get him to make the faith of his parents his own. Nothing I’ve seen other parents do seems to insure that result and arguably it is in God’s hands but I want to know I did my best in my primary duty as a father.
This week will be our first attempt at these goals. We have some good ideas, I’m hoping that the implementation will bear some positive results even if it needs some modifications along the way.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank Mr. X and John for their contributions during the year. Also, thanks to the Sith Lord for those occasions when you were either being a listener to some of my ideas or a source of inspiration for some of the ideas expressed on this blog.
Also, thanks to my varied and assorted readers that check in on me from time to time.
Now that Trump is in office, almost everyone I’ve met during this season—even Hindus and Muslims—are wishing me a Merry Christmas. Far fewer people in my life and the places that I’ve shopped are using the Happy Holidays greeting this year; and that is a very good thing. Freedom and Liberty are making a comeback.
Merry Christmas to all. My prayer for you are these words from Randy Stonehill:
But most of all the children, they’re the ones I hope will learn That Jesus is our Savior and He’s going to return And Christmas isn’t just a day and all days aren’t the same Perhaps they’ll think about the word and see it spells His name.
And I know that if St. Nicholas was here he would agree That Jesus gave the greatest gift of all to you and me They led Him to the slaughter on a hilled called Calvary And mankind was forgiven, Mankind was forgiven We were all forgiven when they nailed Him to the tree.
I got back into the old uniform for the first time in 29 years and walked in the Veteran’s Day Parade in Elk Grove today. Its was moving to be thanked for my service.
I was also blessed to hear my wife sing three songs at the event. God Bless America, Star Spangled Banner, and Amazing Grace.
What a contrast from the time when I got out of the Navy back in 1988 and was looking for a job. I distinctly remember applying for work at a local Filco. I handed the guy my resume, he laughed at me, handed the resume back to me, and told me to get out of here. The thought of this treatment still stings.
A story in the news yesterday is gut-splittingly funny on several levels but before I get there, here’s my background on this issue.
During a lazy summer day a few months ago, I met with an occasional contributor to this very blog near the Toys R Us in Elk Grove. As I was minding my own business just walking through the parking lot, I beheld a sight that I shall never forget.
A small car passes me heading away from said toy retailer that is driven by a woman with a most unusual load on the roof of her vehicle. She has one hand on the steering wheel of her little Toyota and the other out her open window holding onto a plastic swimming pool about fourteen inches deep and six or seven feet around. No straps or other safety devices were holding the pool onto her car, just one hand out the window.
Needless to say, I was shocked that anyone would be so brazen (and stupid) to endanger others in her clearly selfish quest to get this pool back to her house. Clearly a gust of wind or a passing vehicle would easily be able to cause her to lose control of the pool and drop it into the middle of the road thus causing and accident and rendering the pool useless.
Clearly this woman was daring the laws of nature and physics to doom her cargo.
Apparently this was not an isolated incident.
A Wisconsin woman is facing charges after her 9-year-old son was tied to the roof of their minivan to help hold down a plastic pool.
Prosecutors allege 28-year-old Amber Schmunk had her son hold down the molded pool they’d just purchased because it wouldn’t fit inside the van.
Schmunk told cops she “had no way to strap it down so she had her [son] climb on the roof to hold it down while she drove,” and later said she did strap the boy down inside the pool, according to the complaint.
Perhaps a rope around his wee ankle to keep him connected to the pool like a surfer to his board?
Amber Schmuck: Car pool mom
Schmunk said she “believed it was OK as her father let her do things like that when she was that age”
Once I saw her name, I thought, did you ever notice that in books like the Bible, that a person’s name often describes a characteristic of their personality? Her name looks a lot like a word you may know: Schmuck. Per the Internet, “the definition in American English is a pejorative term meaning one who is stupid or foolish”. In this case if the shoe fits…
Oh, no surprise that no Mr. Schuck is mentioned in any version of the story that I can find.
Friday, I got another call that you never want to get. This is the second one this year. The last one was from my son’s school saying he was injured. This one was from Kaiser. Kaiser never calls with good news, they send that via email or snail mail. The person on the other end of the phone was from the dermatology department. She was calling to give me the news that my biopsy came back positive for cancer. Yeah, I have melanoma which is a type of skin cancer. About half an hour later I’m on the phone with another person scheduling surgery for later this week.
This is all a bit of a shock but I’m trying to get a handle on the news. Not surprisingly, Kaiser won’t make this easy to research. They will not email me anything about the results nor send it to me via snail mail. In fact, there is no trace of the results anywhere on their secure patient website. No, instead I must go there in person during regular business hours to get a copy of the lab results. They are saying it’s because of HIPAA laws but that’s BS as best as I can determine. I think it’s to cover their exposure to liability by not giving me anything in writing; if the communication stays verbal it’s my word against theirs. Also, Kaiser is actuarial driven. They are run by bean-counters not motivated by patient care. Look at their business model, their staff is paid the same whether they see me or not so what’s the incentive to treat me? Ditto for tests, they will always choose the cheap test before the conclusive one if the price variance is great enough.
Oh, thus far, I have yet to see a doctor during the process of being diagnosed with cancer, everyone thus far is a PA (physician’s assistant) including the guy giving me the surgery later this week. The people there are nice but if they invoke the “C” word, don’t you think that merits seeing the M.D.? If patient care means proving to the patient that you care, I’m still waiting.
It’s been a week since I got that phone call that every parent fears they will get one day. You know which one I mean
“This is the …
Your child was hurt and …
Please come now …”
About 12:30 last Friday, that was the call that I received from my son’s school. It went something like this: “This is the school. Your child was hurt and broke his arm. Please come pick him up.”
I asked what happened. The school was having a “jog-a-thon” that day. (When I was a kid, jog-a-thon meant that you get folks to pledge so much per mile and ran your little fanny off to raise money. Now a days, I guess they just want a check for a flat fee and forget the jogging part.) Anyway, he was in a “human hamster ball” and fell thru the opening when trying to exit. He said someone hit the ball from the other side and this effectively caused him to be ejected out of the ball and onto the ground. He tried to stop falling head first thru the opening and braced himself by using his arms to break the fall.
Human Hamster Ball—this is an example and not the actual ball
At the time, I had a coworker in the car that I had gone to lunch with. I hurried back to the office and then dropped off the coworker, told my boss I was out for the rest of the day, handed all my unfinished work to my boss for distribution, activated the out of office message, and made haste to pick up my son. I drove swiftly (up to 80 mph) to his school and met him in the office. After checking on his condition, I handed the keys to an adult at the school and told them to load my son in the car. I collected his school stuff—binder, backpack, and lunch box—and then we headed to the emergency room of the local hospital.
At his school office, he was given a small zip lock bag of ice and that was the only first aid that he received. As I drove to the hospital, every time we hit a bump, he would say “ouch”. I walked him in the front door of the hospital and checked him into emergency. I then parked the car and waited for his name to be called. Just after his mom walked into the hospital, his name was called. Our next challenge was to get him out of his sweatshirt so he could have his blood pressure taken. When his sweatshirt was finally removed, there was no doubt that the arm was broken. Up until that point, no adults, other than me, seemed to believe the word of a twelve year old—even when other children confirmed that they heard the bones crack when he fell.
Once my son’s blood pressure and temperature were taken, we were escorted to a treatment room. About two hours after the arm was broken, my son was finally given some pain killer to take the edge off of his discomfort. It was a low dose of morphine give thru an IV in the top of his hand. Getting the IV put in seemed to be more painful than breaking both bones in his forearm.
Broken Arm—Line shows where arm should be when resting.
After three sets of x-rays, setting both broken bones twice, and a temporary cast, we finally started heading to the exit after 7 pm. The first stop was the pharmacy for pain meds and then home for dinner.
The following Wednesday, the temporary cast was removed and a more permanent one was put on. This evolution was a primitive one and did not go as advertised. For some reason, the hospital did not have the equipment to hold my son’s arm stationary and made him use the fingers on his broken arm to grip a metal frame when the cast was assembled on his arm. Then when they got to the plaster part, the doctor squeezed his arm—right at the point of the fractures—for about two minutes so that the plaster could set. Then they took an x-ray (the fourth ones so far) and sent us on our way until next week’s visit.
As I watched this unfold over the last week, I was reminded of DeForest Kelly who played Doctor McCoy in the original Star Trek movies cursing the 20th Century doctors for being a bunch of barbarians for their primitive methods. So far the 21st Century docs aren’t much better.
Adam was just entering his teen years when I last saw him. His family moved out of state shortly after I was married. His dad was in my wedding party and a great guy. His dad had a great sense of humor. Except for his irrational love of Monty Python, I usually found that we liked many of the same things.
As is common for church members, we had a going away party for the family before their big move. At the party, I happened to mention to him an obscure song by Marty McCall and Fireworks called Adam.
The song is presented from the point of view of the singer blaming Adam for causing this world of woe by sinning in The Garden. The song wonders what the world would be like if the original Adam had not disobeyed long ago. The lyrics include the line,”Adam how I hated you…”
(“Adam” was released by Fireworks in 1981 and can be found on YouTube.)
Adam’s reaction to this brief portion of our conversation was really weird. He seemed to take it as if the song was about him, not a guy that lived a few thousand years ago. I tried to get him to understand that it was not about him but I still remember him not letting it go.
Years later, he and I became Facebook friends. On Facebook, I was friends with his parents and since he was now an adult, I became friends with him too. (Subsequently, his folks deleted their Facebook account.) When I viewed his page, what a shock I had. The squeaky clean kid I knew in California was living far away and had become some kind of Goth. Everything was black. Sadly, so was his heart. He was into drugs and had tried several times to commit suicide. He was effectively homeless. I occasionally would look him up on Facebook. Sometimes I would post a Scripture or encouraging word.
How this kid that was “raised right” could end-up so messed-up was tragic. From the outside he had everything: a loving two parent family, an upper middle class home, a good church, education, etc. I remember praying for him often during my breaks at work.
Last week we visited Church of the King in Roseville. My wife and I ran into some mutual friends that we know there. It was then that we learned that Adam had committed suicide. Apparently, it happened months ago but word was circulating slowly all the way to California. I was devastated that this wonderful kid that I once knew had fallen far enough to purposely take his life.
The first chance I had, I checked my phone to see if Adam’s Facebook account was still there. I wanted confirmation. Unlike many that I know have died, his Facebook account was gone. (Note: there is nothing creepier to me than getting an automated reminder from Facebook to wish a dead person a happy birthday.)
Later, I think I found an obituary online, but the site wanted money to access the information. Suicide is not exactly something those left behind like to brag about so I understand that it is hard to find information about one, even in this digital age.
I miss Adam. I think the world was a better place with him in it. I’m sad for his family.
Sometimes when browsing the Internet, I find the juxtaposition of certain news stories out of place or just peculiar. Here is an example from KOVR-TV’s website tonight.
In math we did study inverse proportionality but …
Muslim ↑ Bacon ↓ ?
Lest you think this television station—which I admit to occasionally watching—has all their oars in the water when it comes to their website, I did do a screen capture of this gem several months ago.
When weather babe Lisa Meadows was hired, the station did a fluff piece on her but the website muffed the slug line. It should read, “Get to know the newest member of the CBS13 weather team.”
So is the website person ESL or are they poking fun at another blond female news personality?
This past weekend, we celebrated Christmas. It was the most enjoyable one I can recall in many years.
My weekend started Friday afternoon by getting sent home early from work. This year it was two o’clock. This is the earliest that I can recall being dismissed. Of course the drive home was a cakewalk. I arrived home to be greeted by my wife and son. We had a nice dinner and watched a Christmas movie.
The next day we went and visited some dogs that needed a home. While my son hasn’t gotten his dog yet, he knows that mom and dad are willing to get him one when the time is right. Later we had dinner with grandpa and grandma. My son got to open many gifts from his grandparents. The evening went well and my dad’s prime rib was good. We drove home—well mostly. I had the wife dump me out of the car at California Family Fitness and I walked the rest of the way home—too many calories at grandma’s. After I got home, we went to bed ready for Christmas Day.
On Christmas Day, my son was up at his usual time of 6 AM. He played on his computer until mom had breakfast ready. We ate breakfast and then went to see what was under the Christmas tree. We opened our gifts, loaded up the car and then headed to church.
Our church was closed on Christmas. Yeah, I know that’s kind of weird but it’s the pitfall of not owning your own building. There was nobody around to let us into our usual place so we had to meet elsewhere. After many false starts, a few days before Christmas, our pastor decided that we should crash the service at Christ the King in Roseville. The service there was glorious and we got to see many people that we haven’t seen in many years. The Communion portion of the service was my favorite. They had really great homemade bread and port wine. Since this is a meal with Christ, typically you get a big handful of bread and each family gets their own glass of wine. I even got seconds on the wine. Yummy.
We then went home and got ready for our lone guest for Christmas dinner; my sister-in-law. More prime rib. (I don’t mind, the turkey is being served when the child in the military gets home next weekend.)
Since Christmas was on a Sunday this year, Monday was a holiday. My day started by stepping on the scale and amazingly enough, I had lost my final two pounds for the year! Yes, I stepped off and got back on the scale just to check. It was official; I lost 50 pounds in 2016.
After breakfast, we went to look at pet supplies and accessories in anticipation of getting our son a dog. Then I took the family to lunch. (Mr. X had dibs on lunch but had to take the wife shopping so he took a raincheck.) We then went home for a while.
Mid-afternoon I had the crazy idea to go swimming. The wife and I suited-up and headed for Cal-Fit. However, it turns-out that the pool heater has been dead for a while. I can’t understand how a solar heater is broken when the sun works just fine but the water temp was definitely in the 50’s. The wife headed for the hot tub and I endured the cold water for about 15 minutes of laps and then hit the hot tub as well. After about 35 minutes we were on our way home for a warm shower and dry clothes. I did some laundry and then did some chores around the house.
After dinner and a prolonged computer project—which I may blog about later—I went for a walk to get the rest of my steps for the day. I was glad because I figured it would be the last chance to see all the lights in the neighborhood until next year.
Truly it was a good Christmas. I hope yours was as well.
Normally I don’t get so personal on this blog but this time of the year, isn’t that—at least in part—what Christmas is about; preparing for Christ and what He is doing in your life?
This last month or so I have been experiencing many changes in my life.
First two friends have died rather unexpectedly.
At Thanksgiving time, I learned that Bishop Royal Grote had died.
Royal U Grote, Jr
Bp. Grote was based in Texas and for much of the time that I knew him, he was in charge of the Missionary Diocese of the West for the Reformed Episcopal Church. Bishop Grote was a fine man. He smoked cigars on important occasions, enjoyed adult beverages and loved the Lord. He was charitable with other believers and tried to be the best shepherd that he could for his flock. He took his vows of marriage and to serve God very seriously. He jealously guarded The Table from error and those living in it. Only once did I see him discipline a minister in his charge (although I am aware of other occasions). He acted firmly and decisively when needed. Like it or not, Grote was also instrumental in the formation of the ACNA (Anglican Church in North America). Grote hoped this organization would be an umbrella group to unite various splinter groups fleeing the heresy of the Anglican Church. Link: Wikipedia Royal U Grote Jr.
A week later, another friend—George Fincke—also died.
George B Fincke
George was also ordained a Bishop in the REC. George started out as the son of a Presbyterian minister in Cape May, New Jersey. He attended college at Bob Jones University and occasionally made life there a living hell for the Jones’. He attended college there in the 1970’s. While a student, George did a play at Bob Jones that was a parody of the original Star Trek. In the play, Spock was replaced by Bob Jones and the results, while hilarious, were unsatisfactory to Mr. Jones and his family. George also admitted to putting laundry detergent in the water fountain at the college’s main gate and creating a layer of foam three feet high in the fountain. He had a wonderful sense of humor and maintained a friendship with Bob Jones Jr. who was also a student there when he was.
Later George attended the Reformed Episcopal Seminary in Philadelphia and spent the next twelve years in the Presbyterian Church. Finally, he “saw the light” and moved to the Reformed Episcopal Church. I met George when he was recruited by Bishop Grote to be the minister of the parish in Vacaville California. At the time, many people were hoping to recruit Ray Sutton as their pastor but Grote had other plans for Sutton.
George and I became good friends. While in Vacaville, George suffered a stroke. He had to learn to speak again and also to walk. I spent many hours at his home during this time. That was 16 years ago. George had been made a Bishop about two years before the stroke but his life changed when this happened. He was effectively stripped of his duties and became a Bishop without a flock. It was an awkward period. Once he was recovered enough to resume preaching, he was transferred to Fargo North Dakota. Despite many years of labor, the Mission in Fargo faded away and about two years ago, George moved to Prescott Arizona and took a church there. At this point he transferred from the REC to the Anglican Provence of America. Link: All Saints Prescott, AZ
It was a fresh start for his family and much closer to his grandchildren. Two months before he died, he and his wife had finally purchased a home in Prescott.
I miss his emails and posts on Facebook; mostly his wonderful friendship and sense of humor. He always was laughing and enjoyed life.
I have another friend that is in the last stages of his life and will soon go to his reward. Unlike the other two that I mentioned, he hasn’t made his peace with God. Should you happen to see this post Frank, I’m praying for you to find the peace that only Jesus Christ can give you.
Also in the last month, the wife and I decided to pull our son from the private school that he has been attending for the last 8 ½ years and send him to a different school. The academic rigor is not there this year and the mandatory purchase of an Apple product for the second trimester was the beginning of the last chapter there. We had to buy him this device not for learning but so he could play even more games than he already does at home. Now he can play games at school too. It was time to go.
Back in November, the oldest child moved out. We are enjoying the relative peace and quiet. This move has provided us with the opportunity to do lots of cleaning and organizing. The biggest beneficiaries so far are Goodwill and Ikea.
Adding to this cleaning opportunity is the weight that my wife and I have lost this year. I’m back to where I was in my 20’s and the wife will be there soon if she survives the Holidays. (-:
Our first trip to Goodwill this fall was over one hundred clothing items, many that still had tags on them. This has been followed-up by several more trips.
Lastly, I was given a promotion at work. God is good and we keep pushing that Dave Ramsey snowball down the hill. A debt-free scream is still in our future but we’re getting there.
I wish all my readers a Merry Christmas.
Thanks Mr. X for your contributions this year. I hope to see you at the salsa bar real soon.
