One of the reasons to love living in Minnesota is the changing of seasons. Notice I didn't say I loved living in Minnesota. As I have gotten older I really have struggled to enjoy, or more precisely cope with the winters. Maybe that's why my mother lives in Albuquerque and my father lives near Phoenix.
When I was young I was constantly outside. It didn't matter how cold it was, I wanted to be playing hockey at the outdoor rink in the nearby park. If there was a fresh snowfall I wanted to be the first kid on the sledding hill. When I hit my teen years I really got into skiing. I was a maniac on two long boards strapped to my feet. More often than not, they were aimed straight down the hill which more than irked the local ski patrol. Sometimes the only way to stop was to hit the ground. It's amazing I never broke anything.
I was watching the news this morning and found out today is the first day the sun officially sets before I get off work at 5:00 p.m.
Oh crap, winter is coming.
The sense of dread that comes with the onset of winter can sometimes be unbearable. Where is the joy from my youth? Why do I cringe when my kids ask me to take them sledding? There is a park less than a 5 iron away with a big skating rink. Why do I lace up the skates only once or twice a season?
I might be an average guy but I am blessed in many ways. I should not be dreading winter. I don't necessarily have to embrace it, but I certainly don't have reason to dread it. I drive a big 4 wheel drive SUV, I ain't gonna get stuck. My wife drives a smaller, sexier SUV and she ain't gonna get stuck either. I almost never get sick so I'm not overly concerned about the flu pandemic hitting me. I also have a conscientious neighbor who snow-blows most of the public walkways on the block, and another across the alley who occasionally blows out my driveway leaving me minimal shoveling. And finally, I have a warm home with a cozy fireplace.
What's my problem?
This winter I am going to intentionally attempt to be in better moods. It's hard to have a sunny disposition when it's dark most of the time up here in the frozen tundra, but I'm going to try.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
God's Grand Design and Roughhousing With Teenagers
The human body is an amazing thing. Some might say 'Well Jerry, that's not particularly insightful...' and you would be correct. I really haven't given much thought to this until recently. I generally give God props for amazing things when I am looking at magnificence in nature. This past summer my daughter and I went to South Dakota and saw the Badlands. It was truly beautiful, amazing, and awe inspiring. A few years ago I was in Utah in the summer and took a tram to the top of the mountain at Snowbird. I had the same feeling there, being able to see for miles and viewing things that were magnificent beyond anything I could imagine. Anyone who doesn't believe in God needs to spend some time in places like these and try and explain away the grandeur as a cosmic accident.
One of my shortcomings is that I fail to see God's beauty in the small details of everyday events. Well, I just got a not so subtle reminder of these things. This is a warning for all you men who have teenage sons...resist the temptation to roughhouse with them. Here is the difficult truth (ignore it at your peril); when kids fall they bounce, when middle aged men fall they break. Needless to say I learned this lesson the hard way.
My soon to be 16 year old son gave me a body check from behind and I went down. It wasn't all that hard and the intent certainly wasn't to injure. But as the 'truth' was stated above something broke. I know am the proud owner of a fractured ulna. It's really not serious, in fact I'm not even in a cast, but the range of motion in my elbow and ability to rotate my wrist are severely restricted, and will be for several weeks.
What does this have to do with God's grand design?
The reason I don't see God in the everyday things of life is because I take so much for granted. Like I stated above it is one of my biggest shortcomings. The ability to grasp and pull, rotate our hand (like using a screwdriver), threading a belt through the loops in our pants, pulling socks on, etc. etc. Since I can't do these things very well right now I have spent a little time thinking about our (human beings) design.
Think about all the complex movements of our hand, wrist, and elbow. Simple activities we do over and over again without thinking...washing our hands, brushing our teeth, picking up a glass from the table, raising it to our lips and taking a drink. This one extremity does an infinite number of complex movements, both independently and in concert with each other. I'm beginning to see this with the same awe and wonder as the Badlands. Currently this awe and wonder is generously delivered with a shot of searing pain every time I try and do these activities with my left arm.
Thankfully I'm right handed.
One of my shortcomings is that I fail to see God's beauty in the small details of everyday events. Well, I just got a not so subtle reminder of these things. This is a warning for all you men who have teenage sons...resist the temptation to roughhouse with them. Here is the difficult truth (ignore it at your peril); when kids fall they bounce, when middle aged men fall they break. Needless to say I learned this lesson the hard way.
My soon to be 16 year old son gave me a body check from behind and I went down. It wasn't all that hard and the intent certainly wasn't to injure. But as the 'truth' was stated above something broke. I know am the proud owner of a fractured ulna. It's really not serious, in fact I'm not even in a cast, but the range of motion in my elbow and ability to rotate my wrist are severely restricted, and will be for several weeks.
What does this have to do with God's grand design?
The reason I don't see God in the everyday things of life is because I take so much for granted. Like I stated above it is one of my biggest shortcomings. The ability to grasp and pull, rotate our hand (like using a screwdriver), threading a belt through the loops in our pants, pulling socks on, etc. etc. Since I can't do these things very well right now I have spent a little time thinking about our (human beings) design.
Think about all the complex movements of our hand, wrist, and elbow. Simple activities we do over and over again without thinking...washing our hands, brushing our teeth, picking up a glass from the table, raising it to our lips and taking a drink. This one extremity does an infinite number of complex movements, both independently and in concert with each other. I'm beginning to see this with the same awe and wonder as the Badlands. Currently this awe and wonder is generously delivered with a shot of searing pain every time I try and do these activities with my left arm.
Thankfully I'm right handed.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Fence Building, Hand Holding, and Sledge Hammer Therapy
A while ago I was driving down the street and I saw a woman walking with a small girl, maybe six or seven years old. Just as they were about to cross the street the woman put her hand out and the child instinctively put her hand in her mom's. I generally don't think much about this type of gesture, but this time something occurred to me; that little moment represents the core of a relationship. A child putting her trust and faith in an adult who is strong enough to lead her through a dangerous situation.
This might seem like an overdramatization of the simple act of crossing the street, but look at it from the child's point of view. There are lots of cars whizzing past, and children have all seen the smooshed squirrels so it is no giant leap of understanding to know what a car would do to them. Also, they don't know the 'rules of the road' so traffic doesn't really have a pattern, it's just criss crossing chaos. From this point of view it is no small undertaking to take your mother's hand and step off the curb into the street. But she does it without breaking stride.
Why?
A few weeks ago I built a fence around our back yard. It turned out pretty well and I am suitably impressed with myself. It's not perfect but it's pretty good. The longer I live in my old house in Minneapolis the better I get at building and fixing things. I have some friends and acquaintances that are highly skilled in these types of projects and I am envious of their abilities. I want to be known as a person who can fix small things if they break (internal combustion engines are waaayyy beyond me...I can change the oil), has a reasonable collection of tools and some knowledge and skill in using them, and can finish a project. It's a guy thing.
My question is: does the ability to do these things make a child more willing to hold my hand to cross the street?
This might seem like an overdramatization of the simple act of crossing the street, but look at it from the child's point of view. There are lots of cars whizzing past, and children have all seen the smooshed squirrels so it is no giant leap of understanding to know what a car would do to them. Also, they don't know the 'rules of the road' so traffic doesn't really have a pattern, it's just criss crossing chaos. From this point of view it is no small undertaking to take your mother's hand and step off the curb into the street. But she does it without breaking stride.
Why?
A few weeks ago I built a fence around our back yard. It turned out pretty well and I am suitably impressed with myself. It's not perfect but it's pretty good. The longer I live in my old house in Minneapolis the better I get at building and fixing things. I have some friends and acquaintances that are highly skilled in these types of projects and I am envious of their abilities. I want to be known as a person who can fix small things if they break (internal combustion engines are waaayyy beyond me...I can change the oil), has a reasonable collection of tools and some knowledge and skill in using them, and can finish a project. It's a guy thing.
My question is: does the ability to do these things make a child more willing to hold my hand to cross the street?
I have been thinking alot about relationships with our children and my legacy. I recall a bit done by Bill Cosby where he relates a story when an interviewer asked him what he wanted on his tombstone and he retorts "See, told 'ya I was sick!" If we take the question a little more seriously, how do we want to be remembered? As I said above I want to be known as a guy who can fix and build things as necessary, but I'm not interested in that being my legacy. Nor do I want to be known as a guy who excelled at his job or played a hot sax. I'm not trying to say these things are not important because they are, but what is really important?
As parents we love our children deeply. We don't always like them, but we love them beyond measure. Our most recent home project was replacing the cement steps leading to the back door to our house. The reason we did this project is a great story that needs to be left for another time. However during the project there was a unique and instructive moment.
Anyone who has spent time busting up concrete knows what a tough job it is. All destructive tools are a welcome addition to the workforce. There was a particularly stubborn piece hanging onto a corner that needed a little caressing by a sledge hammer. Anita willingly picked up the 10lb hammer and swung away. After she dislodged the stubborn stone and was accepting my accolades for a job well done, she told me she was envisioning faces on the surface of the rock she was whacking. I fully knew she was talking about the children because there had been more than her share of tension in their interactions over the previous few days.
Some might be appalled at the notion of whacking your kids with a sledge hammer. Keeping in mind this was a theoretical face bashing, I have to admit I completely get it. In fact I'm a little jealous I wasn't the one whacking the rock. Why do we want to whack these children, whom we dearly love but don't always like, in the face with a hammer?
I would argue it's that love that makes us want to do it. If we didn't care so much, the way they act wouldn't bother us so much. The sledge hammer can be a great coping mechanism and a really efficient therapist. A few whacks and it's out of your system. After all, we still want to hold their hand crossing the street...and THAT is what's really important
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Image is...what? My Last Day as a Fat Guy
Today after church, a woman I respect immensely came up to me and said she wanted to tell me that I had been on her mind and she had been praying for me.
Let me give you a little background; her name is Donna and she is of my parent's generation. She is the mother of a man I respect immensely as well. Funny how that runs in the family. Anyway, Donna is a person who is an absolute prayer warrior. She knows all about our family issues and has been a foster parent for years so has plenty of understanding of the difficulties our family is enduring. Donna has been fervently praying for me and my family, and every time I see her she always has an easy smile, an encouraging word, and a hug.
I love this woman dearly and when Donna says she wants to speak to me, I want to listen. She has more integrity in her little finger than I could ever hope to have and I am wise enough to know when to sit down and shut up.
In one of my earlier posts I talked about the mission trip I took to the Dominican Republic, a week or so after I got back I was sharing about the trip in my sunday school class (my church calls them 'adult bible fellowships' or ABF's). During my informal presentation I made an off hand remark regarding something about my size because I am not a small man. I certainly don't remember what it was...I make lots of remarks like that. But she told me it hurt her that I talked that way about myself.
Today is July 5th, and the Sunday in question must have been the first Sunday in June, a month ago. Donna had been praying about this for a month. She is not a shy woman, if she thought the time was right she would have talked with me any Sunday during the past month or she could have picked up the phone and called.
She was concerned that I had lost touch with the fact that God loves me just the way I am. She reminded me that God made me the way I am and Christ lives inside of me. She's concerned that when I make light of who I am, it cheapens God. She is concerned for me, and I'm concerned she's right.
I don't need reminding of who God is and what He has done for me, or that Christ is living inside of me. I have that pretty well covered and I am secure in my faith, but 4+ paragraphs into this post I am finally getting to my point. Although the reminder never hurts.
I do make a lot of self-depracating, off hand comments about being a big guy and what fat guys do. I do it in a Louis Anderson sort of way. When I'm playing my saxophone I'll put the microphone stand directly in front of me and say something like "I keep it there so I can hide behind it." Or if it's mealtime you might hear "fat guy's gotta eat!" Occasionally if I have to squeeze by something I'll say "I'm not as skinny as I look." Here's an old one that comes up "I'm in shape...round is a shape." Why do I do that?
Just typing it makes me cringe. So here we are, nearly the exact middle of 2009 and I am declaring that today is my last day as a fat guy. No, I'm not having surgery tomorrow, nor going on a crash diet (I still like Garfield's line...'diet is die with a 'T'). In fact I'm not sure what it means other than the fat jokes are over. I'll put some brain power to it and post my intentions later when I can come up with something coherent.
Maybe if I start thinking differently about myself I will be happier in the long run and have a little more energy to actually do something.
I hope so.
Let me give you a little background; her name is Donna and she is of my parent's generation. She is the mother of a man I respect immensely as well. Funny how that runs in the family. Anyway, Donna is a person who is an absolute prayer warrior. She knows all about our family issues and has been a foster parent for years so has plenty of understanding of the difficulties our family is enduring. Donna has been fervently praying for me and my family, and every time I see her she always has an easy smile, an encouraging word, and a hug.
I love this woman dearly and when Donna says she wants to speak to me, I want to listen. She has more integrity in her little finger than I could ever hope to have and I am wise enough to know when to sit down and shut up.
In one of my earlier posts I talked about the mission trip I took to the Dominican Republic, a week or so after I got back I was sharing about the trip in my sunday school class (my church calls them 'adult bible fellowships' or ABF's). During my informal presentation I made an off hand remark regarding something about my size because I am not a small man. I certainly don't remember what it was...I make lots of remarks like that. But she told me it hurt her that I talked that way about myself.
Today is July 5th, and the Sunday in question must have been the first Sunday in June, a month ago. Donna had been praying about this for a month. She is not a shy woman, if she thought the time was right she would have talked with me any Sunday during the past month or she could have picked up the phone and called.
She was concerned that I had lost touch with the fact that God loves me just the way I am. She reminded me that God made me the way I am and Christ lives inside of me. She's concerned that when I make light of who I am, it cheapens God. She is concerned for me, and I'm concerned she's right.
I don't need reminding of who God is and what He has done for me, or that Christ is living inside of me. I have that pretty well covered and I am secure in my faith, but 4+ paragraphs into this post I am finally getting to my point. Although the reminder never hurts.
I do make a lot of self-depracating, off hand comments about being a big guy and what fat guys do. I do it in a Louis Anderson sort of way. When I'm playing my saxophone I'll put the microphone stand directly in front of me and say something like "I keep it there so I can hide behind it." Or if it's mealtime you might hear "fat guy's gotta eat!" Occasionally if I have to squeeze by something I'll say "I'm not as skinny as I look." Here's an old one that comes up "I'm in shape...round is a shape." Why do I do that?
Just typing it makes me cringe. So here we are, nearly the exact middle of 2009 and I am declaring that today is my last day as a fat guy. No, I'm not having surgery tomorrow, nor going on a crash diet (I still like Garfield's line...'diet is die with a 'T'). In fact I'm not sure what it means other than the fat jokes are over. I'll put some brain power to it and post my intentions later when I can come up with something coherent.
Maybe if I start thinking differently about myself I will be happier in the long run and have a little more energy to actually do something.
I hope so.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Friends forever?
A little over a week ago I had an opportunity to catch up with a couple of really old friends from high school. I hadn't seen them in years. Russ was the best man in my wedding and now lives in Austin Texas, and Larry was a fast friend who was also at my wedding, which just happens to be the last time I saw him...almost 22 years ago to the day. I had a wonderful time and I feel horrible as well.
Russ (in TX) and I have talked occassionally over the years and have marginally kept up through e-mail. We have both gotten married and have families. Plus we have the added burden of distance between us as well. One can easily see how we could lose touch. Larry, whom I haven't seen in over 20 years, and have talked with maybe 3 or 4 times over that span, lives in a southern suburb about twenty minutes from my house...and has for over a decade! What's my excuse? On top of that, he lives about 5 blocks from my friend Rick from church, and I've been to his house many times over the last several years. I know that communication is a two way street but that doesn't absolve me of the responsibility of keeping in touch. I am such a heel!
Both of my friends have beautiful wives and great children. What have I been missing all these years? I have definitely had a full life with little to complain about and much to be thankful for, but how much richer could my life have been if I had put out a little effort to keep these cool people in my life?
Thankfully we are only in our mid forties and our kids are still young so we have plenty of time to catch up and move forward together. Here in writing, for God and the world to see, I vow to not let this happen again. Good friends are too hard to come by. I am going to guess that everyone has a Russ and a Larry in their past, and I encourage you that as soon as you are done reading this post and commenting if you like, open your e-mail and send them a note...preferably with photos of the kids.
Russ (in TX) and I have talked occassionally over the years and have marginally kept up through e-mail. We have both gotten married and have families. Plus we have the added burden of distance between us as well. One can easily see how we could lose touch. Larry, whom I haven't seen in over 20 years, and have talked with maybe 3 or 4 times over that span, lives in a southern suburb about twenty minutes from my house...and has for over a decade! What's my excuse? On top of that, he lives about 5 blocks from my friend Rick from church, and I've been to his house many times over the last several years. I know that communication is a two way street but that doesn't absolve me of the responsibility of keeping in touch. I am such a heel!
Both of my friends have beautiful wives and great children. What have I been missing all these years? I have definitely had a full life with little to complain about and much to be thankful for, but how much richer could my life have been if I had put out a little effort to keep these cool people in my life?
Thankfully we are only in our mid forties and our kids are still young so we have plenty of time to catch up and move forward together. Here in writing, for God and the world to see, I vow to not let this happen again. Good friends are too hard to come by. I am going to guess that everyone has a Russ and a Larry in their past, and I encourage you that as soon as you are done reading this post and commenting if you like, open your e-mail and send them a note...preferably with photos of the kids.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Electronics and Etiquette
We live in a society where nearly everyone has personal electronic gadgets. Wearing ear buds seems to be the universal sign for 'leave me alone' and some people believe talking on a cell phone anytime, anywhere is a God given right. If you attend any type of public gathering that lasts more than 20 minutes or so, more than likely there will be at least one cell phone that goes off. And it won't be a really cool ring tone either. We have to suffer through the double annoyance of the phone going off and a stupid ringer as well.
I don't have a problem with people listening to their MP3 players. I have one myself and use it often. If I need to talk to someone using their i-pod I don't mind tapping them on the shoulder if they don't respond to my initial inquiry. However, once I have their attention I think it is reasonable to expect them to give me their attention during our conversation. This could mean taking the earbuds out, pausing/turning off the MP3 player, or some other visible means that shows me they are engaged in our communication. Is this too much to expect? Does Miss Manners need to publish a book on personal electronics etiquette? Am I a prude?
Over the past several weeks I have observed many instances of electronic rudeness; phones going off at church, people talking on their cell phones during a quiet gathering (where they could have easily left the room if it was important to take the call), and older kids having their ear buds in (or playing a PSP game) when they should be paying attention to a speaker at an event.
I don't think the actual devices are the problem. We can put our phones on vibrate. We can instruct our children to leave the MP3 player and games at home. We can leave a room when our phone conversation will potentially distract others.
So why don't we?
I don't have a problem with people listening to their MP3 players. I have one myself and use it often. If I need to talk to someone using their i-pod I don't mind tapping them on the shoulder if they don't respond to my initial inquiry. However, once I have their attention I think it is reasonable to expect them to give me their attention during our conversation. This could mean taking the earbuds out, pausing/turning off the MP3 player, or some other visible means that shows me they are engaged in our communication. Is this too much to expect? Does Miss Manners need to publish a book on personal electronics etiquette? Am I a prude?
Over the past several weeks I have observed many instances of electronic rudeness; phones going off at church, people talking on their cell phones during a quiet gathering (where they could have easily left the room if it was important to take the call), and older kids having their ear buds in (or playing a PSP game) when they should be paying attention to a speaker at an event.
I don't think the actual devices are the problem. We can put our phones on vibrate. We can instruct our children to leave the MP3 player and games at home. We can leave a room when our phone conversation will potentially distract others.
So why don't we?
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Changed Forever
On Sunday evening I returned from an 8 day mission trip to the Dominican Republic. Over the years I have heard about poverty from different places; blurbs on the news, pictures on the internet, and stories of people who have visited poor regions of the world etc. It was all very matter-of-fact and what I would term 'arms length' information, yeah you know about it but you don't really KNOW. Well, now I do and I will never be the same.
I truly am a big fat ugly American. As the title of my blog says, I am an average guy. My income is average, my house is average, the number of cars and children I have is average (2 each). I truly am content and happy for many reasons that I don't really need to list here. This doesn't mean I don't have needs and wants, desires and ambitions. I do, but many times I just choose not to put my rat into the race.
At least I have a rat and know when post time is. I can flip a switch and be reasonably sure a light will turn on. If I were to wear every piece of clothing I own, I could go well over 2 weeks without ever having to wash anything (the truth is I don't really know how many clothes I have). I can drink the water out of any faucet I choose without fear of disease and I can flush my toilet paper. If I have a yearning for a certain food I can go down to my local grocery store and easily afford it with my average income. And if I don't like my job I can go find another one.
I had the privilege of learning that none of this is true for the poor people of the Dominican Republic. It was the type of learning that only comes from experience. They have so little. All the things I listed above that I take for granted they don't have, and maybe never will. A day laborer working in the fields picking crops will be paid about 35 pesos a day (the equivalent of 1 US dollar). A bottle of Coke in the store across the street from where our team was staying was 15 pesos. My way of thinking is 15 pesos is about 40 cents...wow that's cheap! However, for the crop picker it is almost a half a days wages for 1 bottle of pop.
The bible states the poor will always be with us, and history has proven that to be true. Before this trip I only had a cursory understanding of this issue, now I have first hand experience. I will never forget the opportunity of working for a week down there hopefully making a small difference in the lives of a few children.
I truly am a big fat ugly American. As the title of my blog says, I am an average guy. My income is average, my house is average, the number of cars and children I have is average (2 each). I truly am content and happy for many reasons that I don't really need to list here. This doesn't mean I don't have needs and wants, desires and ambitions. I do, but many times I just choose not to put my rat into the race.
At least I have a rat and know when post time is. I can flip a switch and be reasonably sure a light will turn on. If I were to wear every piece of clothing I own, I could go well over 2 weeks without ever having to wash anything (the truth is I don't really know how many clothes I have). I can drink the water out of any faucet I choose without fear of disease and I can flush my toilet paper. If I have a yearning for a certain food I can go down to my local grocery store and easily afford it with my average income. And if I don't like my job I can go find another one.
I had the privilege of learning that none of this is true for the poor people of the Dominican Republic. It was the type of learning that only comes from experience. They have so little. All the things I listed above that I take for granted they don't have, and maybe never will. A day laborer working in the fields picking crops will be paid about 35 pesos a day (the equivalent of 1 US dollar). A bottle of Coke in the store across the street from where our team was staying was 15 pesos. My way of thinking is 15 pesos is about 40 cents...wow that's cheap! However, for the crop picker it is almost a half a days wages for 1 bottle of pop.
The bible states the poor will always be with us, and history has proven that to be true. Before this trip I only had a cursory understanding of this issue, now I have first hand experience. I will never forget the opportunity of working for a week down there hopefully making a small difference in the lives of a few children.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Heat and Humility
Today in Minnesota it cracked 90 degrees for the first time since last summer. Thankfully the full onslaught of humidity hasn't hit, otherwise I would be melting into a puddle to be mopped up and never seen again. When I got home from work all I wanted to do was put on a pair of shorts, t-shirt, and my sandals. I suppose if you think about it a certain way this clothes shedding could be considered 'Minnesota Molting.'
Now I am neither a geezer nor a prude, but I witnessed an early molting this April when our family went to one of the mid-Wisconsin over zealous indoor water park tourist traps. When did swimsuit companies start buying material by the square inch instead of the square yard? Most of these strips of cloth should come with a consumer warning label. When you watch news magazine shows that do makeovers or What Not to Wear they almost always extoll the virtues of dressing to your body type. Is swimwear exempt from this admonition? Maybe the warning label should read 'did you actually LOOK at yourself in the mirror?' or 'prepare to be leered and ogled (and not in a good way).' Trust me when I say that NOBODY wants to see me in a late 70's retro speedo, what makes you think I want to see you in it? There are very few people on this planet that can pull off the SI Swimsuit or retro speedo, and most of those are already in the magazines. For the rest of us, we need to be a little more prudent in our choices.
Wearing a swimsuit is not a crime, nor should it be. Neither do I follow Islam and expect women to be completely covered (except maybe my beautiful young adolescent daughter). What I wish is the term 'socially acceptable' to be defined a little more narrowly, for people to look in the mirror and think "that's not o.k." Victoria has no secrets...she has revealed them all. What I wish is people would leave a little for the imagination.
Now I am neither a geezer nor a prude, but I witnessed an early molting this April when our family went to one of the mid-Wisconsin over zealous indoor water park tourist traps. When did swimsuit companies start buying material by the square inch instead of the square yard? Most of these strips of cloth should come with a consumer warning label. When you watch news magazine shows that do makeovers or What Not to Wear they almost always extoll the virtues of dressing to your body type. Is swimwear exempt from this admonition? Maybe the warning label should read 'did you actually LOOK at yourself in the mirror?' or 'prepare to be leered and ogled (and not in a good way).' Trust me when I say that NOBODY wants to see me in a late 70's retro speedo, what makes you think I want to see you in it? There are very few people on this planet that can pull off the SI Swimsuit or retro speedo, and most of those are already in the magazines. For the rest of us, we need to be a little more prudent in our choices.
Wearing a swimsuit is not a crime, nor should it be. Neither do I follow Islam and expect women to be completely covered (except maybe my beautiful young adolescent daughter). What I wish is the term 'socially acceptable' to be defined a little more narrowly, for people to look in the mirror and think "that's not o.k." Victoria has no secrets...she has revealed them all. What I wish is people would leave a little for the imagination.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
First Post and Voyeurism
I wonder what the attraction is. Actually I know what the attraction is; we are voyeurs. I have been meaning to set up a blog and start writing for some time now, and tonight I finally did it. The plan was to set up my blog, write my first post, shower, and go to bed at a reasonable time. As I have hit my mid 40's I define a reasonable bedtime rather narrowly, usually before the 10 o'clock news is over. But here I am after 11:00 p.m. and just now typing. What happened?
Blogs happened. Occasionally I would have a friend or colleague ask me to check out their blog, and I would. But most likely that would be the end of it. I would read a few posts, maybe add a comment, but that was as far as it went. I didn't troll the site reading all the other blogs and posts, peeping through their electronic window trying to 'see what's in there.' I was afraid I was going to feel like a little kid reading his big sister's diary...you know it's wrong but it's just sitting right there. If she didn't want me to read it, she wouldn't have left it where I could find it. So what if it was in her top left drawer under her bras? She still shouldn't have left it where I could find it!
Anyway, tonight I have to admit that I was a voyeur. I spent WAAYYYY too much time reading other folks blogs and not creating mine. Am I the only one who has done this? Have I just graduated from tire kicker to cyber stalker?
Well, here I am. This is my first blog and my first post. Feel free to peek in my window and have a look. I don't know where this blog will go, but I am hoping you will find it interesting, thought provoking, and maybe even a little humorous.
Blogs happened. Occasionally I would have a friend or colleague ask me to check out their blog, and I would. But most likely that would be the end of it. I would read a few posts, maybe add a comment, but that was as far as it went. I didn't troll the site reading all the other blogs and posts, peeping through their electronic window trying to 'see what's in there.' I was afraid I was going to feel like a little kid reading his big sister's diary...you know it's wrong but it's just sitting right there. If she didn't want me to read it, she wouldn't have left it where I could find it. So what if it was in her top left drawer under her bras? She still shouldn't have left it where I could find it!
Anyway, tonight I have to admit that I was a voyeur. I spent WAAYYYY too much time reading other folks blogs and not creating mine. Am I the only one who has done this? Have I just graduated from tire kicker to cyber stalker?
Well, here I am. This is my first blog and my first post. Feel free to peek in my window and have a look. I don't know where this blog will go, but I am hoping you will find it interesting, thought provoking, and maybe even a little humorous.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
