Wow. Two months since my last blog post? I know I've called myself "an infrequent blogger" before, and, there's your proof. So, what prompted this post, you ask? (And if you didn't ask, tough, I'm going to tell you anyway)
Well, it started with a text I got from my niece with a quote from Chris, my four year old son. "After I'm done in here, I'm going to go in my room and think about my life." Of course, I started laughing when I read that. Here's my son, deciding he needs to go contemplate his life. But then I read it again. "After I'm done in here." What's he doing? I thought. So I asked. The answer?
"He was getting into his pants after taking a dump." I lost it, laughing. Tears in my eyes. People looked at me like I was bonkers. Well, I get that look a lot, anyways, so I guess that's not really that different. And this is where I realized that I had a major opportunity to teach my son one of the great truths of being a male.
We don't ponder life after taking a dump, we ponder life while we're in the bathroom. Let's face it guys, and especially fathers, that is the one room we can escape to and let mom or whoever deal with the stuff outside. It's a great place for thinking, catching up on reading, playing Angry Birds, it's a sanctuary. There's a reason they call it the throne room, because, dammit, in there, we're kings! And woe to those who knock on the door and disturb our reverie!
A.J. understands this. He knows the greatness of the throne room. The hallowed halls. The place of refuge. Although, he did make a comment after going to the ESPN Zone in Downtown Disney. "We should have TVs in our bathrooms so we could watch sports while we're in there." Kid is wise beyond his years. I could probably squeeze a dorm fridge in there too...
Monday, July 2, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
A Farewell to Heroes
It's funny, I wasn't planning on doing a blog post today. I'd thought about it, but decided that the pictures I put up of my dad on Facebook and Twitter, and their accompanying posts were a sufficient enough way to mark the 12th anniversary of his passing today. Then, it happened.
I saw the news on my Twitter feed and couldn't believe what I was seeing. The rumors were flying, and then, unfortunately, the rumors turned into fact. Tiaina Baul Seau, Jr., was dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. For any Chargers fan, especially those of us who remember seeing Junior play and how much he meant to his hometown community, it was like a punch in the gut.
Oh, when I first knew about Junior Seau, I hated him. He went to Oceanside High, a rival of Ramona. And, they kicked our asses. Then, he went to USC, and lo and behold, the Chargers wound up drafting the hometown boy. And, he became, arguably, the most popular Charger in the franchise's history.
Now, yes, Junior was a hero, a sports hero, a community hero, and someone that I looked up to in that regard. Obviously, my dad was my hero in a much different, way, much like Junior was hero to his own three children.
And, this is where it gets tough. We won't know what drove Junior to commit suicide (as is the primary theory currently). We'll all remember the smiling player on the sidelines, the charge and full speed he brought to each and every game, the community activist who tried to make his hometown of Oceanside and San Diego better.
What we won't see, as long as the press stays the hell away from them, is his children trying to figure out why their dad, their hero is gone. My heart breaks for them. I lost my dad right before I turned 30, and it devastated me. Junior was 43. One year older than me. I look at my young kids and it scares me to think of leaving them.
The first thing I did tonight when I saw my boys was give them a huge hug and a kiss. I didn't tell them why the hug was a little longer than normal. Just told them that daddy loved them. Anytime one loses a parent sucks. To lose one at such a young age, and to those circumstances, is unfathomable.
Rest In Peace, Junior. Rest in Peace, dad. You both inspired me in different ways, and will continue to do so even though you're not with us anymore.
I saw the news on my Twitter feed and couldn't believe what I was seeing. The rumors were flying, and then, unfortunately, the rumors turned into fact. Tiaina Baul Seau, Jr., was dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. For any Chargers fan, especially those of us who remember seeing Junior play and how much he meant to his hometown community, it was like a punch in the gut.
Oh, when I first knew about Junior Seau, I hated him. He went to Oceanside High, a rival of Ramona. And, they kicked our asses. Then, he went to USC, and lo and behold, the Chargers wound up drafting the hometown boy. And, he became, arguably, the most popular Charger in the franchise's history.
Now, yes, Junior was a hero, a sports hero, a community hero, and someone that I looked up to in that regard. Obviously, my dad was my hero in a much different, way, much like Junior was hero to his own three children.
And, this is where it gets tough. We won't know what drove Junior to commit suicide (as is the primary theory currently). We'll all remember the smiling player on the sidelines, the charge and full speed he brought to each and every game, the community activist who tried to make his hometown of Oceanside and San Diego better.
What we won't see, as long as the press stays the hell away from them, is his children trying to figure out why their dad, their hero is gone. My heart breaks for them. I lost my dad right before I turned 30, and it devastated me. Junior was 43. One year older than me. I look at my young kids and it scares me to think of leaving them.
The first thing I did tonight when I saw my boys was give them a huge hug and a kiss. I didn't tell them why the hug was a little longer than normal. Just told them that daddy loved them. Anytime one loses a parent sucks. To lose one at such a young age, and to those circumstances, is unfathomable.
Rest In Peace, Junior. Rest in Peace, dad. You both inspired me in different ways, and will continue to do so even though you're not with us anymore.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
An Odd Love Affair
Yep, I'll admit it. I love someplace I have only seen personally from their airport. I haven't stepped outside in the wonderful city of Chicago before, but it is on my bucket list. What's not to love about Chicago?
You've got Wrigley Field, the Sears (I don't care what the new name is, it's still Sears) Tower, the Chicago River, Soldier Field, the Field Museum, the John Hancock Center, Navy Pier, Victory Monument, the Magnificent Mile, and the Art Institute of Chicago, which I really want to see.
Heck, I even love or will root for Chicago Sports teams. Da Bears, the Blackhawks (Original Six) and the Cubs. Not the White Sox. Almost every White Sox fan I've met is the American League equivalent of a Dodgers fan. Also, not the Bulls. Screw the Bulls, and screw you, John Paxson. (We'll ignore the fact that Danny Ainge left you open at the top of the key to double-team Horace Grant)
So, where does this love for Chicago come from, from a kid raised in the San Diego area? Well, it was baffling to me, as well. But, I figured it out. I'm a child of the '80s. I was raised on '80s movies. The first taste of Chicago was in The Blues Brothers. (Best. Chase scene. Ever.) Later on, it was The Untouchables and The Fugitive. But, they're not the cause of it.
Nope, '80s movies mean John Hughes. He showed a Chicago that seemed like it would be a great place to hang out and live in. From Sixteen Candles to The Breakfast Club, from Planes, Trains and Automobiles to Home Alone, he showcased Chicago. Well, "Shermer, IL." But, his crowning achievement, and what basically became a travelogue for Chicago was Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
Let's face it, we all felt like we'd been to Chicago after watching that. And, if we hadn't been there yet, because of that movie we all wanted to go and see the places Ferris, Cameron and Sloane went. (Don't lie, you want to go to a restaurant and put your name down as Abe Froman.)
Now, and this is going to burst some bubbles, whilst Cameron's house is in Illinois, Ferris' house is actually in Long Beach, CA. Yep. No lie. That's all right. Doesn't matter, doesn't change or affect my view of Chicago.
And, I can't wait as in about three years, we'll be making a roadie out that way. Until then, I've got my movies and the sports channels to tide me over.
You've got Wrigley Field, the Sears (I don't care what the new name is, it's still Sears) Tower, the Chicago River, Soldier Field, the Field Museum, the John Hancock Center, Navy Pier, Victory Monument, the Magnificent Mile, and the Art Institute of Chicago, which I really want to see.
Heck, I even love or will root for Chicago Sports teams. Da Bears, the Blackhawks (Original Six) and the Cubs. Not the White Sox. Almost every White Sox fan I've met is the American League equivalent of a Dodgers fan. Also, not the Bulls. Screw the Bulls, and screw you, John Paxson. (We'll ignore the fact that Danny Ainge left you open at the top of the key to double-team Horace Grant)
So, where does this love for Chicago come from, from a kid raised in the San Diego area? Well, it was baffling to me, as well. But, I figured it out. I'm a child of the '80s. I was raised on '80s movies. The first taste of Chicago was in The Blues Brothers. (Best. Chase scene. Ever.) Later on, it was The Untouchables and The Fugitive. But, they're not the cause of it.
Nope, '80s movies mean John Hughes. He showed a Chicago that seemed like it would be a great place to hang out and live in. From Sixteen Candles to The Breakfast Club, from Planes, Trains and Automobiles to Home Alone, he showcased Chicago. Well, "Shermer, IL." But, his crowning achievement, and what basically became a travelogue for Chicago was Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
Let's face it, we all felt like we'd been to Chicago after watching that. And, if we hadn't been there yet, because of that movie we all wanted to go and see the places Ferris, Cameron and Sloane went. (Don't lie, you want to go to a restaurant and put your name down as Abe Froman.)
Now, and this is going to burst some bubbles, whilst Cameron's house is in Illinois, Ferris' house is actually in Long Beach, CA. Yep. No lie. That's all right. Doesn't matter, doesn't change or affect my view of Chicago.
And, I can't wait as in about three years, we'll be making a roadie out that way. Until then, I've got my movies and the sports channels to tide me over.
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