DadsCenter.org Blog

Pool Season Prep Continues

Got a lot of work done after dinner tonight.  Kari has been helping me cap off the last touches before we get ready to paint and stain the backyard configuration I’ve been building during the past month.  This all is really shaping up to be a wonderful project and I’m getting excited about seeing it to completion.  I know there are several more things I want to do to the pergola and remaining fencing before I will be settled.  I also want to build a couple more planters for the back.

The morning glories and other plants we started in the garage are coming along splendidly.  It’s almost time for planting.

Right now I’m on the back porch with my best of the best dogs, Molly.  It’s 9 p.m. and the water pump on the well is running and filling the backyard with a wonderful sound.  The wind is calm tonight so no chimes.  Molly is so good about sitting/laying here at my side and guarding me.  She stays between me and the gate.  Isn’t that a hoot?  I’d hate to be the poor fool who ever might decide to come through our gate unannounced.

I figure I need about six additional boards for the top of the pergola and about 21 more of the slate boards I’ve been using for the picket fencing.  I also still need to fix the doggie door arches, and add a board there, too.

After we get that done, it’s on to getting the wood work creation painted, and then I need to begin some work inside.  I want to do some accent painting and make some other positive improvements inside.

It looks like my dad will be here in a week or so, so I’m trying to get as much done before he gets here, too.  Not that it will largely impress him, but I will know what I’ve done.  He didn’t say much when I told him Kari and I had built this wonderful patio cover I’m sitting under.  So I’m not expecting much of a reaction to the bench work and pergola.  It’s funny, when he was here in October of 2006, he insisted on hiring someone from Home Depot to put up our $99 storm door at the front of the house.  I’ve since put one on the back door, added a patio cover, fencing, etc….

I just wish my Mom’s dad was still around to be able to see all this.  He would be pleased.   And he would take a seat each morning out on the bench work and watch the sun come up in the east and think of something profound to write on the wood.

Here’s a Fun Site: Freaked Out Dads

The addition of kids to one’s home can be an exciting experience.  Here is some good advice from Dads making decisions about how to make a difference with their kids.  Freaked Out Dads.  Aren’t we all at times?

Two Biblical Wrongs to Make One Right? –NY Cardinal critical of Rudy

Fox, Bad Dads? How about ‘Fox: Bad Programming’

My wife is a fan of Fox reality shows.  For one, I won’t stay in the room while she has them on.  Whether it’s the world’s most annoying, rude and Medusa-looking Judge Judy or that idiot, mad-mouth cussing clown on Hell’s Kitchen, I can’t stand to have the TV on or be around such foolishness. (For God’s sake, the big deal the other night as I passed thru was how many pounds of pasta someone had mad while that idiot yelled at them a string of obscenities.)
Now from this blog, Fox is considering a show on mothers who would use Fox producers to hunt down deadbeat dads.  While I don’t support not paying support, this is such a bad concept.  I mean, this would be as bad as say, having had a Fox crew follow around my ex in 1997-98 when she was off doing activities not supportive of our marriage and putting them on TV for all the world to see, including the children of the parents involved.  I can’t imagine a family counselor out there who would think this would be something positive for the kids to see.  And they eventually would, whether it be in the first season of such utter bad programming, or in syndication, or worse, when it gets to YouTube.

But why would Fox care about the further harm they’d be doing to children across America?  After all, they’d be making money on the deal and so would their advertisers.

Wyndham Chicago, The Chicago Apple Store, Northwest Indiana Not Cosmopolitan?

Fresh back from Chicago, I have much on my mind.  I learned a lot of things on the trip, even though I cut it short a day to come back to be home with the family.  They Wyndham Chicago on St. Clair is a great hotel.  The room I was in was big.  The bed was comfy.  The food in the restaurant downstairs on the second floor, very good.  The courtesy of the concierge desk was very good, too.  Russell, Anthony and Kaitlin all were very professional, prompt and helpful.  Thanks guys.

I did make it over to The Apple Store on Michigan Avenue.  Way cool.  Glass steps up to the second floor.  A theater upstairs where they hold court for classes.  Dallas has a great Apple Store, Chicago’s is just in a different league.  But of course, it’s on the Magnificent Mile.

There is a Hershey Store across diagonally from Water Tower Place.  What a cool store.  They feature the world’s largest chocolate bar.  Essentially, the one you’d buy in a store, but this one is about 1.5 feet long and about 10 inches across and about .5 inches thick.  It runs $30 but looked like it would have been worth every single bite.

And so, as I sat one morning in the restaurant at The Wyndham Chicago, I could not help but overhear two more senior gents than I talking about the area.  One, like me, was a native of the area to the south east of Chicago.  As you know, I was born in Gary and my grandparents are/were from Hobart.  While downtown Chicago, (and I know I’ve said time and again, if the DISD job had opened up in Chicago, I would be 100 times happier) is quite metropolitan, the man was saying that Northwest Indiana isn’t.  And the more I thought about it, he’s right.  Now is that all bad?

Grandpa Claxton quit school in Northern Alabama in the eighth grade so he could help support his family.  When my dad was seven in 1952, Grandpa loaded up the family and drove up highway 31 to Hobart, IN to take a job working in the steel mills that John Cougar Melencamp so poignantly refers to in Minutes to Memories.  Some of the Claxton clan also went north, some stayed south.

And so, Grandpa worked hard for the next 35-40 years and raised his family.  The house they raised my three aunts and dad in would fit inside the first floor of my house, and there would be room left over on the first floor, let alone the second.  How they managed four kids in two bed rooms and one of themselves is still a mystery to me, but they did it.  Dad joined the air force in 1968 and me, mom and dad left for a 20-year ride on the road and in the air.

Hobart still is in many ways like it was when I was a kid.  The Rocket, a Sonic-style drive in (which I’m told actually had good food as opposed to that stale, pre-packaged blah Cliff ‘Hot Head, Arrogant, Richard Cranium’ Hudson is so proud of) is still there off Route 6 and Wisconsin, though it’s long been something else.

My point here is that the man was right and I’d never really thought about it in that way until he said it.  As I’ve written or certainly thought since I’ve taken my recent position, is that I missed many opportunities being stuck in Montgomery, AL during the early years of my career.  Maybe being there made it easier to become the governor’s press secretary by age 30, but I also missed out on a heap of opportunities for refinement, for seeing and being more on the cutting edge.

And so I wonder, (bringing this home) how to more positively influence what my kids are exposed to here in Dallas.  They certainly will have greater opportunities than I had for cosmopolitan exposure.  I mean, how much of that do you get in Northern Michigan at the former K.I. Sawyer AFB?  That experience afforded me a greater appreciation for the environment.  We spent every day we had the opportunity to do so, playing in the woods, building forts, riding trails, digging as far as we could muster.

And then it frustrates me incredibly to see, particularly my boys, wanting to spend much if not all of their days inside sitting at their computers and game consoles.  I had two of them wash my car last weekend and all I heard was how they normally just sit in the back while mom drives thru a car wash.  They’re 14 and 15.  Heck, when I was that age, I would wash my mom’s station wagon and dad’s Rabbit weekly, dreaming about being able to drive them.  Dreaming of getting an old ‘57 Chevy and fixing it up when I got old enough.  My boys wouldn’t know one if they saw it.

And so maybe the whole answer here isn’t just living in a big city.  It really goes back to spending time with your kids.  Exposing them to the things that will /could change their lives forever.   TVs and games and computers and DSs can be great electronic babysitters, but the rest of the world passes by while they’re tuned in, and they don’t even realize it.

On A Dream Called The City of New Orleans….

I can hardly believe it’s Thursday, and at the same time, can’t believe it’s just Thursday. What a fast week it’s been. I was not excited about making a trip to NOLA Monday, but it turned out to be a very good experience. The media coverage of our events was good, but I got to see some gems that I didn’t expect to see. There were a couple of men who were helping us from the NOLA area for our events. Nearly every person I’ve talked with when I have been to New Orleans talks about how they’ve got a contractor coming to their house, mostly either that day or in the coming days. In St. Bernard Parish and even in Gentilly, there still are many piles of rotted wood that have been removed from a house sitting at the street awaiting pick up. I did notice that the number of smaller trailers parked in front of houses has dropped significantly since January, which means people are getting back into their houses more and more. But as you stand in front of a school waiting for a live shot, you can’t help but notice the number of full dump trucks going by, the number of concrete trucks passing you by, and semi trucks loaded with 2 x 4s and ply headed for somewhere nearby. And the haunting X spray paint markers still are on many of the houses, even revamped ones, I guess as a symbol of not being fully ready to let go. The number at the bottom of the X is the number of people searchers found dead in the home. It’s always better to see a 0 there, obviously.

Down on Canal Street Monday evening in the un-spring-like chill we recently experienced, things were hopping. Tourists were out walking, locals were out walking or doing what ever it was they do, and the shops were open along the street. As I walked from the La Quinta on Camp toward Canal Street I could not help but be fascinated by the bricked buildings and the patchwork of concrete along the sidewalk and road and imagine all the stories that could be told of events that had happened along those spots throughout the many, many years of the city’s history. There certainly is a special magic to this city from a historical perspective, something I didn’t expect.

And so the guys we talked with told some incredible stories of survival, of rebuilding, of adapting to the curves life tosses you. There was a story of a man whose mother was in her late 80s and he physically had to carry her out of her house before the Storm hit because she’d been there most of her life and didn’t want to leave. They went east toward Mississippi and the rains that came a week or so later after Katrina flooded them from that spot, too, and now they’re in Natchez, on the east side, and safe for now from flooding.

Then there was the discussion of “the Katrina Smell” as they call it in NOLA. A smell of rotted wood, mold, etc. that lingers because of the tens of thousands of homes that have yet to be touched that got water in them from rising water or leaks in the roof and the spores of that disaster still abound. They said they don’t fret so much about mold in New Orleans like we might in other parts of the country. “This New Orleans, we’ve got mold here 24/7.”

Then were photos that were taken of the inside of schools, places where the water levels got as high as 22 feet. And now the schools back open, looking brand new and life goes on.

I wish more was being done to capture the stories of rebuilding that are going on. They are priceless and special and would make a great documentary. I wish I was at a place in my life, too, where I could take a few months to go down there with a camera crew and record some of these incredible stories of survival and rebuilding, and share them with the world. They would inspire new hope in mankind. And while as an outsider up until Monday and Tuesday I would have questioned why anyone would rebuild where they know another storm shall hit again in the future, these fokes I talked with have a special love for their city, one you don’t see in Dallas or Fort Worth. Texans will boast about how glad they are to be from Texas and how everything here is done this way and not that when they’re in other parts of the country, but in New Orleans, these fokes love their city and they want to put their lives back together, whatever shape in which that might be.

First Year Anniversary

Well, I just did a check and the first blog that posted here was April 5, 2007.  A year and six days ago.  I haven’t taken the time to calculate how many posts in that time, but it’s been a good learning experience, and something interesting to use to document my time as a dad.

Onward I go.

Rain, rain and more rain. Finally.

Well, I had postulated that it would not be a good idea to take any of the local TV weather fokes with me anytime soon to Vegas. Since Saturday, they’ve been saying it would rain in Dallas beginning Sunday p.m.  Well, Tuesday a.m. it’s finally started. And boy has it.  I don’t know that we need a bunch of rain, but it is nice to see.  Hopefully will knock down some of the pollen that’s been bugging many of us of late.

Had my video class this morning.  Very helpful tips.  Trying to use some of them as I rework some elements of an important project I’m working on.  Going to try some new formats as well and see if they work as well or better in Final Cut Express.

Saturday morning

Well, the fewer details I mention, probably the better. There was no date last night. No show for reasons not understood. Let’s leave it at that.

Leaving work last night, I listened to the advice of an office-mate and stopped by the flower fokes in the lobby. Jack pot. Two dozen roses for Kari and they are splendid. And for an unbelievable price. I’m a hero. For the moment at least!

I’ve got One-to-One in an hour and a half. Have imported some wmv files this week and got the Flip4Mac converter so they will do more than look like a bunch of letters when I open the file. Problem has been with iDVD. When I’ve burned the disc, the audio hasn’t come with it. It all looks good now. Video very crisp. Can’t hear anything though. Good thing I have One-to-One at 8 a.m.

All is quiet in the house. Molly and I are continuing our weekend morning ritual. I type, she sits here on the couch with me. Can’t wait to get her weighed again. When we got her last year, the couple said her mother weighed about 100 lbs. Molly has truly been digging the past month, and it’s starting to tick me off. So last weekend, she’d dug near the pool and was brown. Very little white. All the mud had tracked across the patio so I pressure washed the patio and then disconnected it and rinsed her down. All wet, she’s much smaller.

I need to go start a brisket before I leave, but as I think and type, that might be better to save for tomorrow’s game time meal. That big game–not allowed to advertise SP IXII, don’t you know.

Many projects to get done today. Some honey do, some for the betterment of the family, some for me. I’ve got to get the green screen in the den done and shoot. It’s really starting to bug me we have all the TV lights and this big screen deal in the den. I’m ready to have the den back. Like I get to go in there and do much with the kids running hither and yawn.

Going to attempt to put the older six in a circle today and start trying to have them learn how to better talk to each other. Yes, they all are just being kids, but I think they can do a better job of talking nice to each other. Manners. Kindness. Respect for each other as human. Naw….

So such is my game plan. And we shall see how it goes.

Our House

It’s cold here in Dallas. For three days our dear weather fokes have been telling us we’d wake up this morning to icy conditions. Dangerous roads. You know. All the stuff that goes on in the South when a little itty bitty amount of frozen anything comes around.

Well, as usual, it didn’t happen. It just rained.

Nonetheless, Kari had a fire going tonight when I got home from work and we’ve kept it going. She and I went to dinner together without kids tonight. How nice. As we pulled out, we could both smell the aroma of our neighborhood, blessed by the smoke from our fire. She said she bets we have gotten more use from our fireplace than any other neighbor has of theirs. I’ll bet she’s right. We use it a lot. The pyromaniac in me, don’t you know.

I just went out front to see if it was still giving the aroma of a warm winter’s fire. And thought about the fact that I don’t go out front that much anymore. Been so busy with work. And then all that time away to OKC. Last week Kari and I sat out on the steps watching the stars and of course, timing how long it would take for at least one of the kids to find their way out there to complain, tattle or whatever on someone else. It didn’t take long, but we did get to enjoy a few minutes.

Before the pool and the patio cover Kari and I built together last June, we used to spend considerable time each evening out front. Now it’s shifted to the backyard, though I tend to spend more time out back than Kari. You see Molly has done a little digging and it’s also winter, which means the grass and flowers from last summer are withered.

But just a few more months and we’ll be back out there, waiting and longing for it to be warm enough to dare to jump into the pool.

For tonight, however, it’s time for another log on the fire.