The Planner, The Girlfriend and The Miracle of Service

I am a planner.

I have always been very good at seeing a project or a problem, organizing a plan and executing it to work through the project and the plan. I have had several tech directors in several theatres that have kept me around not because of my lighting or sound skills but my way of seeing the project or event from the beginning, middle and end, and then creating a plan that would work well for that. One time, at church, I was given (and set apart) for the Activities Committee. My specific calling was Activities Think and Plan Committee Member. I was to think up ideas for activities, plan them and then give them to someone else to carry out.

Another thing I have always planned well are dates. If right now someone was to wander up to me and ask me for a date idea for tonight, I could plan one of 20 dates that ranged in price from FREE to rather expensive. This is really great for everyone but those that are dating me. The person dating me gets to experience a lot of the things I like to do and gets to pretty much not have to worry about the coming date beyond showing up and looking beautiful (which shouldn't be too hard because I don't date ugly people). However, if our relationship is going to grow, dates can't just come from me. I need to learn what my date wants to do - what brings her excitement and gets her going. The only way for that to happen is by having her plan dates.

Amy is not a planner.

She has loved having me to just plan and go.

For our two month Anni I asked her to plan a date for that Saturday. She was rater annoyed at me. How was she to know what to plan that would interest me. What would keep my interest and not make me run screaming from her yelling "Really? You want me to go with you to do THAT? Do you hate me?" Amy tried desperately to find something to do but plans kept falling through (We were supposed to go to the Robert Luis Stevenson Museum but they were closed that weekend. We were supposed to go for a hike but it was supposed to rain. Etc). Then on Thursday Evening I got a call. Harold needed me to come in on that Saturday and build a set. So, to the relief of Amy, I had a plan for Saturday and Amy was off the hook. We did Service instead.

I told Amy that she could plan a date for December 12th. That gave her 3 weeks to plan something. She started working on it. Since then, Amy's Grandma fell and broke her leg. Later this week, Grandma gets released from the hospital and will be in a wheelchair at home. Now, on December 12th, Amy is saved again. On that day, Amy and I are building a ramp for Grandma to get in and out of the house. This means that Amy gets out of planning a date until December 31.

My first thought for Amy is to tell her to plan a service project - that seems to be how her dates end up going.

drawing in church

When I was 14 or 15 I attended a youth conference. On one evening, we gathered at a ranch near Mission Peak owned by a member of the church. I was smitten with this one particular young lady and when she suggested we go on the hayride, I was suddenly an expert Hay Rider. Hay Rider was my middle name, at that point.

After a rather bumpy ride (there wasn’t actually any hay on the trailer) we came to rest just shy of the crest of a hill. We got out (about 10 of us) and followed the ranch owner to the crest. Up top was this big beautiful tree and a little bench that had been carved out of some previous tree.

The ranch owner had us kneel on the ground and watch as the sun slowly slipped away. As we sat there (I was trying to put my arm around the girl but was still a little shy), the ranch owner said that if us young men served honorable missions we could bring our sweet hearts back to here and picnic on this hill over looking this valley (and the SF bay). As the sun kissed the earth we could turn to our sweet hearts and propose. Often in church I can be seen drawing these pictures. I don’t know how to draw the sun setting so I draw it in the right corner.

Several years ago, Lifesaver Candies had a commercial where a father and daughter sit under a tree and watch the sun set. So occasionally I’ll draw the picture with my son. But if you ever see me in church drawing this (which is really the only thing I draw at church), just smile and know – it’s just me looking forward to a day of picnic and a sunset.

Only you can prevent forest fires and my hungry dad

My father is going camping for the first time in 15 years on Saturday. If you do pray please pray he doesn't get mauled by nature. I'm really fearful of the shock he is going to experience when he finds out that the sun doesn't have an alarm clock and there are no donut stores open in the woods. I guess you could pray for donut stores for him too.

The new girl

18 months after my mother died I came home for Christmas. 2 months prior, just before Halloween, I slipped into a major depression brought on "delayed grieving" syndrome and a fiance leaving me. The Delayed grieving crippled me and I was unable to deal with school and work and just needed some place to feel safe and to return to some usual settings. I figured Christmas with my dad might help.
On Christmas morning, my father and I sat down and had our traditional Christmas breakfast of a Sugar Plum Ring. This is a tradition my mother started and was a tradition that we never went without (even with my mother and I's numerous hospital Christmas stay overs). We gathered the night before and made this master piece and awaited the morning for the feast.
Just a few bites into the meal there was a knock at the door. "Jimmy! Jimmy! Merry Christmas! Here I brought you a gift."
My dad's new girlfriend had arrived. She insisted on my dad opening her gift, right there in front of me and as we feasted over my mother's traditional breakfast. Inside was a pair of boxers. I was shocked. And embarrassed. And angry. and a whole other slew of emotions.
I tried to laugh it off. "I thought you were a briefs kind of guy, dad."
"But wouldn't he look cuter in Boxers." Was her response.

My father, in my mind, had only ever slept with my mother. I don't know how often or for how long and I was just fine not knowing whether my dad was getting any. I think what goes on in the privacy of your own bedroom is your own business. Furthermore, I would have rather not known as I was eating my mother's Sugar Plum Ring that my father was getting some again. I found her act to be really disrespectful to me and to my mother. Each time over the next three years when she would offer advice, I always had a hard time taking it because it usually contradicted with my thought process and I usually didn't want to listen to her motherly advice after she had been so disrespectful to my mother the first time around.

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On Saturday I attended a symphony. In the crowd was my dad with his new girlfriend. I was late (a fateful run in with the Utah Wheelin Jazz players) and so I had to sit in the balcony. Below me was my father and this new woman. Through the course of the first "act" I observed them cuddling and holding hands. During intermission we met. She was conservatively dressed. She talked to me as an adult. She wanted to know more about me and to share interesting things about herself. At no point did she try to give advice or to point out that her and my father were affectionately involved. In fact, as we stood there they didn't even hold hands (though they did do plenty of that during the second "act"). After the show, she went back to trying to ask me questions and try to get to know my father and I better (and get to know our relationship better). She never at any point went out of her way to embarrass me. It was nice.
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In no way is my dad needing my approval for who he dates. For the most part - he lives his life and I live mine. But I must admit it was so nice to leave the symphony on Saturday with my guard down. It was a great feeling.

Waiting on a season

When I was a child, my father worked a lot. I know in part this was to support my medical bills and my mother’s medical bills. But the end result was the same – I missed seeing my father. My father was a world traveler for business and he was on the cutting edge of technology invention. (He shares two patens with a major computer company.) This meant for a lot of long hours.

However every summer I knew there would be one night where my brother and I would see him. Chad and I participated in the summer reading program with the Alameda County Library system. ACL and the Oakland Athletics had a deal worked out that if you read a certain number of books, you got a free ticket to go see an A’s game. You were actually given a voucher for a free ticket on a certain night in August. The A’s also gave you a coupon for a discount ticket for an adult to come with you.

Each summer Chad and I would race through our collections of books and read as much as we could at the library. And at the end of summer, we had our vouchers. We then got our coupon and Dad got our tickets. The seats were at the very top of the stadium and the view was never great (they actually don’t sell seats to the section we were in anymore because they got tired of people touching the bottom of airplanes.), but it was a welcome day to spend with dad in those hot Indian summer days watching a few men toss a ball around. It’s the days that dreams are made of.
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Later today, football (My mother’s passion) will come to a close and I will wait. On April 11th my memories will be flush upon my mind and I will long to be beside my father once more, watching a few guys throw around a ball and allow me to be a kid one more time.

San Jose Giants Schedule Oakland Athletics Schedule

throwing it up

About 5 ½ years ago during a routine emergency appendectomy, a hole was discovered in the back of my esophagus. As scary as that sounds – it was a great relief to learn. You see, for 18 months prior to that, I had been vomiting once a week. Despite all the test we were running, no reason for the vomit had been found. Then suddenly – the answer was clear: I had a Hiatal Hernia. However, the fun was just beginning. There are three ways to fix this type of hernia:

1. Surgery
2. Lose weight
3. Stop eating certain foods
   

Guess which two my insurance though were great ideas. Guess which one my insurance (and every insurance I’ve had since) thought would cost too much.

For the last 5 years I’ve been very strict with my diet. I have not tasted citric in 5 years. No orange juice, oranges or orange punch. I don’t have peppermint. I avoid spicy foods, limit my caffeine and have greatly reduced my chocolate intake. I have managed my food intake so well that I had not experienced the vomiting since November 2007. (I have dry heaved since that time but never quite fully experienced the whole vomiting thing since 2007.) On Tuesday night that all changed.

For dinner I had two bowls of Denise’s Chilly and several pieces of Cornbread drowning in butter and honey. I had had Denise’s chilly before so I wasn’t worried. I retired to bed at 11 and was woken at 1.

Let me break here to mention that I’m a forgetful guy. I forget people’s names, addresses and titles. I forget recipes and work assignments. I forget the date every day. I can even forget the fun of vomiting if given over 12 months to not experience it.

So come early Wednesday morning I awoke to a feeling that I was going to throw up. Briefly I struggled with the idea of determining if I was really awake or not. I was and the clock was ticking. So I rushed to the porcelain goddess and began to spill my story to her. You haven’t lived until you’ve had cornbread flying through your nose at a high rate of speed. And no, it wasn’t as good the second time.

For about ten minutes I heaved. I had also forgotten that just because there’s no food in your belly it doesn’t mean you are done. At some point I started noticing blood in my bowl and realized I was now ripping away my stomach lining. Good Times.
Afterwards, as I sat there in the restroom trying to get the energy to go to bed, I was reminded of how lonely vomiting can be. No one cane to my aid. No one asked me if I were ok or if I needed anything or even if they could hold my hair while I upchucked. And, in the twighlight of that new day I suddenly missed my mom. I hope she is doing ok and someone is there for her just as I wished someone had been there for me. I look forward to the time where we are sealed as a family and can be there for each other again.

Killing her again

Today is December 7th. I think I've been asked that five times today what today was and every time I replied "It's the 7th" and then went on with whatever I was doing. Then at 9:30 tonight it hit me: Today is December 7th. And then I almost cried.

My mother was born December 7th. She's only been dead for 5 years and already, a day that I looked forward to, I have forgotten to celebrate to birth of my mother. All day long I went about life not even thinking of the importance of the day. How without her life, mine would be not.

I feel like a very ungrateful son for forgetting to celebrate this day, The 7th of December. I know it's late, but Happy Birthday Mom.

Ms. Smarty Pants

I love and hate this time a year. I love shopping for my family and buying them gifts. For the past 4 years because of college and unemployment, I wasn't able to give gifts to family, but this year I can. I already have purchased my Sister-in-law's gift and I think I know what I'm getting my brother. And then we get to the annoying overly smart 4 year-old.

My niece was born with natural smarts. Additionally, as a testament to her mother's great parenting skills, Little Olivia has been molded, shaped and given every opportunity to grow. My SIL has taught Olivia way beyond her age level. And there in lies the problem. I was out shopping last night with a friend. While in the "toy" section I found toys that said they were appropriate for a 4 year-old, except not my 4 year-old...which then leads me to trying to guess the smarts age for my niece. Should I get her age 5 stuff? Age 6? I want stuff that will challenge her yet at the same time be enjoyable to her. Most sadly is that I used to be able to send her cardboard boxes and crayons and she was happy. Not any more.

On Tuesday I won a little plush Mustang from my junior college prize bin. I'm going to send her that, but as to the rest of Christmas - not a clue. Hopefully my father and I can figure this out.

The big secret

I have about 6 other blogs that are all half written, but for some reason - I want to post this one before finishing the others.

Just over a month ago, the brother, the sister-in-law, and the niece came to visit. Good times were had by all and there was very little arguing (which is rare for us as my conservative views often clash with the rest of my family.) On the Tuesday night prior to their departure, my father came to me and said, "So has Chad talked to you about that thing?" Being too dumb to respond, "Oh yeah! Can you believe it?" I responded that Chad in fact had not talked to me about anything. "Oh, well I'm not allowed to tell you so just forget I mentioned it."
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Let's break from this for a moment. Imagine for a moment that you have a brown bag. Inside that brown bag you have let's say 40 cats. In a moment of sheare genius you decide to open that bag and the cats get out. Have you ever tried to heard cats back into a bag, once the cat is out of the bag?
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I haven't been able to simply forget my dad mentioned it. Instead, I've shared with some of my friends and co-workers the idea that my liberal sister-in-law and liberal brother have a secret they are holding onto that my father says, "Really Sean, it's no big deal."

But I didn't think it was fair to hold this discussion off line, so I open it up to you - all two of you that read this - and welcome your ideas. What could the big secret be?