I've made myself two informal New Year's resolutions. The first is to lose 20 pounds. The second is to write. Now that they are listed somewhere other than the inside of my own head, I suppose they are now *formal* resolutions.
I'd thought that I'd write every day. There are two schools of thought on being a writer. Most professional, successful, popular writers will tell you to write every single day, regardless of how good the result is. Only with practice can we be perfect. My own school of thought is: why write something if you know ahead of time that it's going to be complete garbage? Why not wait until you have something good to write?
After years of following my own advice, a bit of self-inspection has revealed to me that I am neither a professional, successful, nor popular writer. Hmmm. Perhaps my way is wrong.
So I choose to write today without having a topic in mind. The only thing I can think of is a rhetoric question that popped into my mind lately. Why is it so easy to set your house on fire, but so difficult to start a fire in the fireplace? (I don't know where this thought came from. It may be that I saw or heard it in passing. It reminds me of those Stephen Wright-type questions, like "When you ship Styrofoam, what do you pack it in?". I still haven't found out the answer to that one.)
And then I remembered that starting a fire in a fireplace isn't difficult for everyone. My best friend is quite good at it. Mark (http://www.diveintomark.org/) went camping with us a few summers ago, and quickly proved himself as Campfire Man. Campfire Man can gather wood like nobody can. Campfire Man can light a bonfire with a single match. Campfire Man can keep the ashes going all night, so that getting a fire ready for breakfast is a snap. (What Campfire Man can't do, as it turns out, is cook the steaks medium-rare. That's the only time I was allowed near the fire.)
So how did he achieve this greatness? Years of practice, I supposed. But no, he had not been camping before. Aha! He must have read a book on the subject. I looked up "Firebuilding for Dummies", but it doesn't exist. ("Camping for Dummies", though, does: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/search-handle-form/104-1249955-2568737)
As it turns out, he could just do it. Like that 4-year old who plays Chopin like nobody's business. Or the kitten that somehow (hopefully) knows to use the litterbox instead of the priceless Oriental living room rug.
Now Mark has other talents too, ones he excels at. He's the best programmer and authority on Apple computers that I know. He can juggle 5 balls, and I can only do 4. He is a wonderful husband, and soon to be a wonderful father. Some of these he's had lots and lots of practice at. He's tried, failed, and tried again. Some of them he will have to practice at, and learn through experience (like to have a clean diaper open and ready to slip under the kid's butt as soon as the dirty one comes off. Trust me.).
But firebuilding just came naturally, and I'm really wondering how that happens. Does everybody have something that comes to them naturally? (And conversely, does everybody have something that they will never be good at, no matter how hard they work at it?) What happens in a person's brain that gives them the information, knowledge, and talent needed to succeed the first time?
I don't have the answers, but I'm awfully good at coming up with the questions. I don't know why. I guess it just comes natually.
Thursday, January 08, 2004
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
See Spot run.
I stopped home for a very rushed lunch today (two servings of Ramen noodles, chicken flavor, high on the salt, low on the nutrition. Only seven days to blow my New Year’s resolution to eat healthier. That must be some kind of record.) While there, my nearly-3-year-old son asked me to play with him. Sure, why not? I have at least 2 or 3 minutes before I need to be back at work.
Well, he decides that the game to play is with his nearly-5-year-old sister’s flash cards. So he pulls one out, looks at the picture, points at the word and says, “Daddy, what say that?”
Now, those of you with children may understand my reaction. Those without children but planning to have some will eventually find out. Those who don’t have children and never will, well, I don’t know if there’s a way to adequately describe my astonishment and delight. It’s kinda like describing a rainbow to a blind man.
See, I got a decent education. I came from an educated family. We had books all over the house, and I grew up taking literacy for granted. I’m still shocked (but a lot more empathic than I used to be) when I come across a post-adolescent non-reader. There are so many steps we take on the path to reading that, once we know how, we forget about. The very first step is realizing that those funny little squiggles on the page actually have meaning. I don’t remember realizing this for myself, but last year I witnessed my daughter’s revelation. Just like my son, she pointed to the book and said, “Daddy’s what’s that say?” And just like with my son, I was astounded, delighted, and proud beyond all belief. My daughter is recognizing that words exist! Quick, call the grandparents! Alert the media! Call a press conference and get it on the evening news! In my moment of ecstasy, I am quite sure that no other child has ever reached this epiphany, that mine is the brightest of the bright. Just hand her the Nobel Prize now and get years of anticipation over with early.
As I said, if you are a parent, you understand. And if you are not, at this point you probably think I am an incredibly pompous and arrogant individual. But just wait till *you* have kids.
The next step is one that my son hasn’t made yet, but I’m anticipating soon. See, three days after my daughter said “Daddy, what’s that say?”, my wife was reading Sarah “Alice in Wonderland” for her bedtime story. (Another point of pride…my kids refuse to go to bed without a story being read to them. And once I leave the room, my daughter takes books into her bed and falls asleep “reading “ them.) So after finishing the chapter, my wife comes downstairs and tells me that Sarah is mildly upset. Why?, say I. Because she wants to read the story for herself and can’t, says my wife.
Another milestone! The *desire* to read. And this is one that some never get. I think it may come from environment. I grew up surrounded by books, as did my wife. Both of my parents were teachers. I was read to all the time, and my parents were always in the middle of a book. Some don’t have that, and grow up without realizing how much reading has to offer.
So I go upstairs to read a little more to Sarah. As I sit down, she points to the front cover of the book and says, “What’s his name?” I answered, “That’s the Cheshire Cat.” And then she says, “Where’s his word?”
I nearly passed out.
In one week, this child has determined that 1) words have meaning, 2) she will someday be able to decipher that meaning, and 3) every object has a word associated with it.
And to think that I assumed that after seeing her born, everything else would be emotionally anticlimactic. Holy cow.
Well, he decides that the game to play is with his nearly-5-year-old sister’s flash cards. So he pulls one out, looks at the picture, points at the word and says, “Daddy, what say that?”
Now, those of you with children may understand my reaction. Those without children but planning to have some will eventually find out. Those who don’t have children and never will, well, I don’t know if there’s a way to adequately describe my astonishment and delight. It’s kinda like describing a rainbow to a blind man.
See, I got a decent education. I came from an educated family. We had books all over the house, and I grew up taking literacy for granted. I’m still shocked (but a lot more empathic than I used to be) when I come across a post-adolescent non-reader. There are so many steps we take on the path to reading that, once we know how, we forget about. The very first step is realizing that those funny little squiggles on the page actually have meaning. I don’t remember realizing this for myself, but last year I witnessed my daughter’s revelation. Just like my son, she pointed to the book and said, “Daddy’s what’s that say?” And just like with my son, I was astounded, delighted, and proud beyond all belief. My daughter is recognizing that words exist! Quick, call the grandparents! Alert the media! Call a press conference and get it on the evening news! In my moment of ecstasy, I am quite sure that no other child has ever reached this epiphany, that mine is the brightest of the bright. Just hand her the Nobel Prize now and get years of anticipation over with early.
As I said, if you are a parent, you understand. And if you are not, at this point you probably think I am an incredibly pompous and arrogant individual. But just wait till *you* have kids.
The next step is one that my son hasn’t made yet, but I’m anticipating soon. See, three days after my daughter said “Daddy, what’s that say?”, my wife was reading Sarah “Alice in Wonderland” for her bedtime story. (Another point of pride…my kids refuse to go to bed without a story being read to them. And once I leave the room, my daughter takes books into her bed and falls asleep “reading “ them.) So after finishing the chapter, my wife comes downstairs and tells me that Sarah is mildly upset. Why?, say I. Because she wants to read the story for herself and can’t, says my wife.
Another milestone! The *desire* to read. And this is one that some never get. I think it may come from environment. I grew up surrounded by books, as did my wife. Both of my parents were teachers. I was read to all the time, and my parents were always in the middle of a book. Some don’t have that, and grow up without realizing how much reading has to offer.
So I go upstairs to read a little more to Sarah. As I sit down, she points to the front cover of the book and says, “What’s his name?” I answered, “That’s the Cheshire Cat.” And then she says, “Where’s his word?”
I nearly passed out.
In one week, this child has determined that 1) words have meaning, 2) she will someday be able to decipher that meaning, and 3) every object has a word associated with it.
And to think that I assumed that after seeing her born, everything else would be emotionally anticlimactic. Holy cow.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
A good friend of mine has made the suggestion that I can write. I’m not sure if I agree with him. Another good friend has a weblog, and after viewing it for several months and talking with him extensively, he made the suggestion that I start my own. The problem with writing something on a daily, or even weekly basis, is that you need a topic to write on. You can’t write randomly (unless your name is Dave Barry. In that case, anything that comes out of your pen works.).
However, the only topic I feel even remotely an expert on is my own life. Sometimes *very* remotely. And how many people could possibly be interested in my life? Not many. But I don’t care. Because I need to write, and I need a place, other than the confines of my own computer screen, to display what I have to say.
So I'm trying this out. Since I know nothing about web design (yet. Who knows what the future holds?) I make no apologies about the appearance of the site. I have no control (as far as I know) if things accidentally get deleted. As yet, I haven't even learned how to change the color scheme.
But I will. So if you happen to tune in early, rest assured this site will look different in the future. I'm going to play around with it, more as I learn more, and if you like what you see then feel free to tell me so. If you don't like what you see (content or otherwise), be constructively critical....tell me what you want.
But I make no apologies if you don't get it. After all, this is my site.
However, the only topic I feel even remotely an expert on is my own life. Sometimes *very* remotely. And how many people could possibly be interested in my life? Not many. But I don’t care. Because I need to write, and I need a place, other than the confines of my own computer screen, to display what I have to say.
So I'm trying this out. Since I know nothing about web design (yet. Who knows what the future holds?) I make no apologies about the appearance of the site. I have no control (as far as I know) if things accidentally get deleted. As yet, I haven't even learned how to change the color scheme.
But I will. So if you happen to tune in early, rest assured this site will look different in the future. I'm going to play around with it, more as I learn more, and if you like what you see then feel free to tell me so. If you don't like what you see (content or otherwise), be constructively critical....tell me what you want.
But I make no apologies if you don't get it. After all, this is my site.
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