How do you make a brothers sandwhich?

There are some games we play that the boys have always loved. And one of those is referred to as “making a sandwich.”This usually consists of me putting blankets, pillows and sofa cushions on top of them and then attempting to take a bite. Today, J got very excited at the idea of doing this and controlling the structure of the game. He went from being a sandwich, to whispering to me how and what we should pretend to be, to eventually being the Stinky Cheese Man who manages to escape every time I went to bite into the sandwich. In some ways, its similar to the book,”Pete’s a Pizza.” My favorite part of the game is watching him come up with new types of roles for me and for him. I love watching his imagination unfold. I’m curious if this is something mothers do with their sons or if this is a game best experienced by rowdy fathers and sons?

How important is it to not be "tardy" for school?

Today is Ry’s last Friday in Kindergarten room A. He was moving at an amazingly slow speed today, so it was inevitable we were going to be late. I also didn’t feel like pushing him to get ready. I was practicing an approach used in alanon called “detachment with love.” The idea is that I pull back and let him feel the consequences of taking his time and missing the all important play lot time. It was easier for me to do it today because I was moving pretty slow myself.

As we drove to school, and listened to “Kung Fu Fighting and Little Willy Won’t Go Home,” I wondered how much it really matters if he gets a “pink slip.” Funny, I hadn’t actually made the connection before this moment to getting the “pink slip,” in a job. What exactly are we to learn from tardiness? Do they still use the word, “tardy?” Somehow it sounds like their should be a more politically correct term?

I understand its a problem if a child is chronically late. I should say if a child is repeatedly late, then there is a problem with the parents. As I write, I think my problem is that I am responding to this experience from my childhood memories of being late for Catholic school. It seemed like such a big deal, and I was rarely late. But I know many people who were and I have to wonder how much that impacted their lives as adults. Someone please help me understand the importance of tracking tardiness?

Tardy…Can’t we come up with a better word than Tardy?

Today is Ry’s last Friday in Kindergarten room A. He was moving at an amazingly slow speed today, so it was inevitable we were going to be late. I also didn’t feel like pushing him to get ready. I was practicing an approach used in alanon called “detachment with love.” The idea is that I pull back and let him feel the consequences of taking his time and missing the all important play lot time. It was easier for me to do it today because I was moving pretty slow myself.

As we drove to school, and listened to “Kung Fu Fighting and Little Willy Won’t Go Home,” I wondered how much it really matters if he gets a “pink slip.” Funny, I hadn’t actually made the connection before this moment to getting the “pink slip,” in a job. What exactly are we to learn from tardiness? Do they still use the word, “tardy?” Somehow it sounds like their should be a more politically correct term?

I understand its a problem if a child is chronically late. I should say if a child is repeatedly late, then there is a problem with the parents. As I write, I think my problem is that I am responding to this experience from my childhood memories of being late for Catholic school. It seemed like such a big deal, and I was rarely late. But I know many people who were and I have to wonder how much that impacted their lives as adults. Someone please help me understand the importance of tracking tardiness?

What happened in School today?

I hope this question elicits more of a response as the boys get older. But for now, I hear very little about Kindergarten A and less about the Yellow Room. I don’t know what I’m expecting. I’ve learned to make my questions more specific,” what did you bring up for current events?, what exactly does the line leader do? did you go to the park? How is Punky the guinea pig? and Thor the turtle? We have advanced though from no response at all to Ry raising his hands. I can only hope I learn more in first grade and Red room.

Memorial Day on Montrose Hill

Montrose hill called to us once again this holiday weekend. We came by bicycle, Rollerblades, scooter, and training wheels. I’m always surprised by how much prep work goes into a 45 minute excursion. I had to take down the seats in the Honda Odyssey, then lay down the over sized tarp, roll in the bikes, pack the snacks, and drinks and load everyone on to the mini-van so we could leave.

Once there, it was well worth it. Ry raced ahead of everyone in his red, motor-cross bike. My wife scooted along on the silver and blue Razor scooter, well aware of any bumps on the bike path. And J, wearing his bright red Sesame Street helmet, carefully paced himself on his bike with training wheels, while I cruised around on my Rollerblades, hoping to not fall on my unprotected knees.

Ry decided he wanted to ride down the hill. While somewhat reluctant, we agreed the worst that could happen was some grass burns. He walked what felt like a very long journey to the top of the hill. I gave him the thumbs up. And then he pedaled, coasted, and screamed for joy,”WHOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!.” We went back to the van, had some drinks, snacks, and made plans to run through the sprinkler when we got home.

A Hill We Climb Over and Over……………..

Today was a good day. For me, it is the best way to spend a holiday weekend. I was able to lay sod in the backyard. I have no business laying sod or doing anything remotely connected to gardening, but every year I feel compelled to take on some outdoor project. My wife then arranged for us to meet another family at Montrose hill in Chicago. I don’t know if you can really call it a hill, since this is the Midwest, but we have used it as a hill every year since the kids were born. We’ve run up the hill, gone sledding down the hill, had picnics on the hill, and simply rolled down the hill. Today, we flew kites.

For me, it is hard to get excited about flying kites and having a picnic. And yet, once we are there, it is hard to get the kite away from me. I love that feeling of watching the kite take flight and soar to the sky. J had a simple Elmo kite that immediately raced for the sun and didn’t come down till we left. Ry had a fancier dragon kite, with long plastic tails. As our friend said, it was designed by an artist and not an engineer. I was determined to get this kite in the air before we left. After eating, playing soccer, and discussing Hillary vs Obama stuff, I got that dragon up on its own.

Recognizing Your Child’s Strengths

How do we know when our kids have special talents, strengths or abilities? How do you know what you’re kid’s good at? I still tend to think his teachers will tell us or his grades will show me or if he scores many points in a game, I’ll know. Sometimes I’m waiting for the answer to come to me in some concrete formula, that I miss other opportunities to learn about my son’s strengths. And then this morning, Ry wanted to demonstrate the songs and dance movements his class will perform at the all school show.

He knew all the words to “Old Dan Tucker,”and was quite expressive with the movements. Also he integrated the dance steps and silly movements. And most importantly, he was having fun with it. I was genuinely impressed. I immediately thought if he, as a kindergartner, can do that for a school show, he can probably do that with plays for a basketball team. As someone who really struggled to learn plays on a basketball team, I have a real appreciation for someone who can listen, learn, and incorporate new information. All skills which will serve him well throughout his life.

After leaving home and heading for work, I thought about what I would write about today. I assumed I would later focus on the school show. And then, it hit me, this morning’s performance in the kitchen is just as important as tonight’s at school. How often do we as parents, worry, anticipate, and prepare for the big event and then miss it because we are then thinking about what to do after it? Sometimes the good stuff is right in front of us if we just look and listen.

Learning to see the kid who is in front of you, not the one you want him to be

How do we know when our kids have special talents, strengths or abilities? How do you know what you’re kid’s good at? I still tend to think his teachers will tell us or his grades will show me or if he scores many points in a game, I’ll know. Sometimes I’m waiting for the answer to come to me in some concrete formula, that I miss other opportunities to learn about my son’s strengths. And then this morning, Ry wanted to demonstrate the songs and dance movements his class will perform at the all school show.

He knew all the words to “Old Dan Tucker,”and was quite expressive with the movements. Also he integrated the dance steps and silly movements. And most importantly, he was having fun with it. I was genuinely impressed. I immediately thought if he, as a kindergartner, can do that for a school show, he can probably do that with plays for a basketball team. As someone who really struggled to learn plays on a basketball team, I have a real appreciation for someone who can listen, learn, and incorporate new information. All skills which will serve him well throughout his life.

After leaving home and heading for work, I thought about what I would write about today. I assumed I would later focus on the school show. And then, it hit me, this morning’s performance in the kitchen is just as important as tonight’s at school. How often do we as parents, worry, anticipate, and prepare for the big event and then miss it because we are then thinking about what to do after it? Sometimes the good stuff is right in front of us if we just look and listen.

BAD DREAMS!!!!! WE"RE BAAACKKKK!!!!

Recently a ghost from our past has returned the house. I’m talking about “BAD DREAMS.” For at least a year, we’ve been able to sleep pretty well since both the boys would go down to bed and not wake up till morning. But those days are gone. Recently, at around 2-4 am, I’ve heard J’s semi stuck door, do a 1pull-2 pull and threeee to open, followed by racing foot steps scampering on the rug till our bedroom door bolts open and I hear, ” Mama, I had a bad dream!!” I had forgotten about “bad dream” nights. We dealt with it with Ry, but that seemed like so long ago. And now “IT”S BAACK!!!”

I think we are still in denial about it, so we let him come into bed for a few mintues and then put him back in bed till the next door pull, 1-2-3, scamper, “MAMA.” We’ve tried talking about the dream. We’ve used magic to erase the bad dreams, or if I’m very tired, perhaps I’ll call upon a pretend vacuum cleaner, or if I’m more refreshed, perhaps I’ll try a rhyme. “Bad dream go away and leave J alone today,” ( sang to the tune of rain, rain, go away.) Once a night, I can handle, but when there are multiple dreams, that can destroy your sleep and the next day.

It is my understanding that part of this has to do with his emerging sense of independence. It appears the more independent he feels, the more he becomes aware of how his independence can leave him vulnerable to new hurts. So it stirs up the mix of wanting independence, but still needing to be dependent on good old mom and dad. I think this is all preparation for what will later be called adolescence.

Tired and Exhausted? It’ s time for a Hat Dance!!

I don’t know how it starts, but sometimes the best moments are not planned, have no purpose, and just spontaneously appear. Last night, I came home feeling pretty tired. My wife was exhausted from driving the boys to school and back, taking grandma to get some x-rays, and then taking home one of Ry’s friends for a play date and dinner. So neither of us had much in the tank, and thankfully the boys ate during the play date. So considering there was still 1.5 hours before a bath and bed, this evening could have gone in several directions. Of course, the one we anticipate and dread is one that involves the two boys fighting, calling each other variations of “poopyhead,” followed by a slip, fall, and crying “MAMA!!” But last night was different.

Ry put on one of his homemade music CD’s and started doing some silly dances. J mirrored his moves. And then they both found a collection of hats in one of the drawers and started improvising movements. This went on for at least twenty minutes. They found a way for both of them to participate and it allowed us a chance to eat, not necessarily in peace, but for one night, they chose the road less travelled.

When you’ve had enough of the kids.. It’ s time for a Hat Dance!!

I don’t know how it starts, but sometimes the best moments are not planned, have no purpose, and just spontaneously appear. Last night, I came home feeling pretty tired. My wife was exhausted from driving the boys to school and back, taking grandma to get some x-rays, and then taking home one of Ry’s friends for a play date and dinner. So neither of us had much in the tank, and thankfully the boys ate during the play date. So considering there was still 1.5 hours before a bath and bed, this evening could have gone in several directions. Of course, the one we anticipate and dread is one that involves the two boys fighting, calling each other variations of “poopyhead,” followed by a slip, fall, and crying “MAMA!!” But last night was different.

Ry put on one of his homemade music CD’s and started doing some silly dances. J mirrored his moves. And then they both found a collection of hats in one of the drawers and started improvising movements. This went on for at least twenty minutes. They found a way for both of them to participate and it allowed us a chance to eat, not necessarily in peace, but for one night, they chose the road less travelled.

The great swing debate…Under-dog or Side-dog-which is better?

So far, I’ve used this blog to focus on moments or interactions that I simply find interesting. Today, it occurred to me that these moments are usually a result of observing a potential problem or concern and then responding to it. In my life and on the blogs, I usually focus less on the problem and more on the solution. I thought it would be interesting to go back and consider the questions or obstacles that precede the interactions.

Today for example, J and I stopped by a park after dropping Ry off at school. Why? Sometimes I get concerned that as the second child, he’s getting less time with us than Ry did. Intellectually, I can see he gets so much from his interactions with Ry that we could never give Ry. So I know it somehow balances out. But still, I make a conscious effort to find ways for us to have some one on one time. So even though I know it is going to be a haste to stop by a park before work, I try to tell myself these little moments add up over time. Moreover it is a way for me to remind myself that spending time doesn’t have to be a big day at Chuckee Cheese, it can be a short trip to the swings.

Once we got to the park, the challenge was how to negotiate with his emerging sense of 3 to 4 year old independence. It is my understanding that this is a healthy and appropriate stage of his development. The task is figuring out how to give him ways to be in charge, while I maintain ultimate control. In today’s case, the jockeying for power came in the form of “underdog” or “side dog.”

J currently feels strongly that an “underdog” push is vastly superior to a “side dog.” And he is experimenting with various ways to make his point. These include, ordering me to do it, trying to be polite, arguing that the way I push doesn’t qualify for an underdog, crying, and distracting; “I wana get off the swing.”

In my limited experience, I’ve come to believe that kids let us know when it is time for the family to shift. It usually starts with changes in behavior that I’m not ready for, so I initially try to get them to behave like they used to, followed up with me reading some books by Stanley Greenspan, and then realizing J or Ry is in a new place and ready to grow in new ways. The real work is letting go.

How do you handle a Bully?

I was talking with some other dads last night and the subject of bullys came up. I was asked how I deal with the issue. I responded that in my experience, kids aren’t really looking for advice or tips, although they’ll consider whatever is shared with them. I think they really just don’t want to be alone with their feelings.

Ry and J love it when I become them and they get to be the bully’s. And then just as quickly, they want me to be the bully, so they can try out their new responses. They also enjoy it when I share stories about how I was bullied or how I handled it. As one of the dad’s pointed out, it almost feels like he is tending to some old wounds when he has to revisit these topics.

In my opinion, many adults step so far into their heads for answers that they can’t allow themselves to remember what life was like for them as a kid. Ry and J present me with opportunities to revisit the past all the time. The pace at which friends are best friends and then not friends and then are back to being friends is a stretch for me to remember. I have to struggle to recall the , “if you don’t do this, I won’t be your friend,” dilemma. When I reflect on it, it takes up a tremendous amount of emotional energy to negotiate friendships, learn new material,in school, master straddling the monkey bars, and figure out how to pass the ball to a teamate in a soccer game. It is so arrogant, for us, as adults to expect kids to just get up to speed quickly. I just don’t think kids work that way. It takes time and patience to really comprehend their world as they experience it, and then its still pretty confusing.

Wiggleworms? or Music and Me? Which is Better?

On our way to the Actor’s Gymnasium, we listened to Kid’s Play on WLUW. I heard a song I didn’t know, but I recognized the voice from “Wiggleworms. ” If you live in or near Chicago and have young children, you’ve probably heard of or taken a Wiggleworms music class at the Old Town School of Folk music. We haven’t taken a class there in years, but I have many fond memories of us taking Ry there. At the time, it felt like the only class we’d ever take. We were sure that Ry’s teacher, Dave, a rocking guitar playing teacher, was the best. After a few classes, I was singing his version of Old McDonald had a farm in my sleep. Once we were settled and comfortable, we started hearing rumblings about “Music and Me.”

In the world of children’s music classes, Wiggleworms is like Hertz , and Music Together is Avis, “we try harder.” They were definitely different. Where Wiggleworms CD’s had traditional kids songs with a hipper beat, Music and Me experimented with complex rhythms and sounds. J took most of his classes there with Ms. Jill at Music and Me. The classes were more sophisticated and challenging the Wiggleworms. I imagine there are people in this town that have arguments about the merits of both classes, the way people argue about Barack and Hillary. I miss the music, but not the classes.

After dropping Ry off, J hopped on my back and we went for a walk on this bright, warm, beautiful day. I love giving J a piggy back ride. I like feeling him rest his head on the top of my back and my arms wrapped around his legs. I like the conversations about where we are walking or when can we get a snack. I like talking to him when we are face to almost face. I used to love carrying both of the boys in a purpleKerry backpack for the same reason. I never liked the distance between us when I am standing and they are standing.

I remember reading suggestions for parenting from Stanley Greenspan where he suggested bending down and being face to face with them. It works for me. He also advocated “floor time.” Essentially, this means getting on the floor and discovering what the child wants to do with you. It is usually different and more interesting than what we as adults would come up with.

J and I stopped by a park dedicated to Firefighters. It had an old firetruck in the center of it. No one else was there, so we climbed on board and assumed the role of fire-fighters. After successfully putting out the fire and heading back to the station, we were climbing up the slide that resembles a castle. J was the Giant in Jack and the Bean Stalk and I was “Fluffy,” the Guinea pig, a character from a story series about “Fluffy.” As I climbed up the slide, J would say in his giant voice,”Fe Fi Fo Figgy, I smell the blood of a Guinney Piggy.” I love seeing different sides of him emerge. We then went to a swing and slowly, very slowly,counted together from 1-125.,”27,28,twentynnnnnninne, 30,31…”We agreed counting is hard work.

We picked up Ry, picked up a couple of bottles of water and snacks from the vending machine and then went to a park that Ry wanted to explore. They were the oldest boys there. J easily climbed the rock climbing wall and Ryzipped through all the rides and even helped out little kids. I kept having this feeling our park time, like the music classes is coming to an end.

Just my Imagination running away with me…

J is entering a stage I really enjoy. It is one where he welcomes the idea of pretend play. So I can let him take the lead and he’ll make me into a rainbow, Ry into a rainbow and my wife into an evil witch who destroys the rainbow. I like this kind of play because we can all be involved with it.

Today Ry, J and I continued this theme. J and I were polar bears, but we were trapped in an octopus. Ry, the magician was able to save us from the octopus. In another scene, J was the dad and I was the child. It was my birthday, but the octopus tried to intrude. And then I thought the party was today, but it was tomorrow, so we had to all go to sleep. So I got to be the annoying child that continues to call his parents to put help him go to sleep. I later became the birthday cake. And then it was time for follow the leader.

Ry put on the Pop Fly, from Justin Roberts, and J led the way around the room. We would do silly dances, runs, and kick our legs off the ottoman. As I felt my belly jiggle, I wondered whether this was the best exercise for me. But seeing them work together, and J’s excitement to lead made it worth an extra jiggle or two.

How children teach adults to play?

J is entering a stage I really enjoy. It is one where he welcomes the idea of pretend play. So I can let him take the lead and he’ll make me into a rainbow, Ry into a rainbow and my wife into an evil witch who destroys the rainbow. I like this kind of play because we can all be involved with it.

Today Ry, J and I continued this theme. J and I were polar bears, but we were trapped in an octopus. Ry, the magician was able to save us from the octopus. In another scene, J was the dad and I was the child. It was my birthday, but the octopus tried to intrude. And then I thought the party was today, but it was tomorrow, so we had to all go to sleep. So I got to be the annoying child that continues to call his parents to put help him go to sleep. I later became the birthday cake. And then it was time for follow the leader.

Ry put on the Pop Fly, from Justin Roberts, and J led the way around the room. We would do silly dances, runs, and kick our legs off the ottoman. As I felt my belly jiggle, I wondered whether this was the best exercise for me. But seeing them work together, and J’s excitement to lead made it worth an extra jiggle or two.

9 minutes to go

I want to try something different. I have less than 9 minutes till my next appointment. So I want to see what I will write about before they arrive. I’m feeling both anxious and urgent to be productive. It’s probably like being at home with both of my parents at the same time. I’m waiting for something. I keep picturing J in his burgundy sleeveless Nike shirt. He looked older. I felt like I could see what he’ll look like in 10 years. They both seem so much bigger and older than I remember myself ever being. Even in pictures, I look littler and younger at the same age. This is starting to feel like a silly exercise.

On the train coming to work, I thought about a number of things. I was impressed that J wanted to confess to Ry that during a play date, his friend TO smashed one of Ry’s WWF toys. I really admired him for his honesty. He went right towards the situation and told Ry. When my wife told me about the situation the night before, she was concerned Ry would be pretty upset. I didn’t think the toy meant that much to him, so I simply responded by tossing it behind the couch. I went with the “wait till he finds it, then we’ll deal with it approach.” My wife was a bit shocked that I felt free enough to do that, but she didn’t fight it. And we went back to hearing Hillary Clinton being interviewed by Wolf Blitzer on CNN.

J’s George Washington, “I can not tell a lie. I chopped down the cherry tree,” approach made me proud of him. Ry’s response to hearing about the broken toy was to engage in a dialogue about it, followed by smashing the other part of the toy in to many pieces to understand what made that experience so thrilling for T.O.

Loose Associations #1

I am not sure why I care about this blog so much. It feels very important to me to write here as often as I can. Perhaps because I am not as skilled at writing as others, I feel I need to write more. I can feel the voice that tells me there is nothing to write about. And then I think of loose threads of material that don’t seem to connect. So while walking to my office, I decided I would create a category for days like today. I’m tentatively thinking of calling it, “Loose Associations #1.” My intention is to allow myself to perform a written improvisation. I will go where my thoughts and words take me. I can hear a group of 4wrdthnkndad cheerleaders shaking their pom poms and shouting, “OK, let’s gooooooooooooo 4wrd!!!!”

The boys got some new sandals yesterday. When I came upstairs, J shouted, “Dad, look at my sandals and look over there (near the banister) are Ry’s sandals.” “Wow, they look pretty cool,” I said. Fortunately, my wife has good taste and wouldn’t let the boys leave a store with something really ugly, so I can genuinely be excited for them. J had yellow, Sperry Topsider rubber sandals with blue curls,( which Ry points out rhymes with girls), Velcro everywhere, with room for the toes to breath.

When I saw the blue box with nautical compasses on it for Sperry Topsiders, my mind just flashed back to every social event I attended where most people were wearing those brown boat shoes with leather strings. Like Crocs, everyone knows in their heart of hearts, its just plain ugly, but somehow after seeing it enough, you start wonder if you should get a pair. I had that experience with those ugly ass duck boots. To be honest, I probably bought them at Famous Footwear, so they were actually “irregular” ugly ass duck boots.

And what about those enormous sneakers some teenagers wear. You need a step ladder to get into them. But the winner of the ugly and most unpractical award has to go to the guys who wear their pants around their knees. In essence their underwear is showing and they look like they are having a heck of time walking down the street. Perhaps, these young men are simply preparing themselves for the potato sack races that tends to be an annual event at most family picnics.

Ry had yellow and blue Timberline meets Jackson Pollack like sandals. Speaking of Timberlines, am I the only one who wonders when Timberline will use leather or suede on their boots for advertising or personal patterns, similar to the way Converse lets you design your own canvas shoe? It seems like such a waste of potential space.

Why is it I am so shocked when I find out that my son’s shoe sizes are bigger. I know it is going to happen. They are supposed to grow. But when I hear, ” J is a size 11 and Ry is a 13,” I sound like Froggy when he says “Whatttttttttttttttttt?!” If you are reading this, I trust you are familiar with the Froggy book series.

Writing about that book made me think about listening to the Junie B audio book in the Honda Odyssey this morning. One reason, I love those audio books, is because the car gets so quiet as the boys listen to the story. In this adventure, she is getting ready for her kindergarten graduation. This, by the way is still a concept I can’t get on board with. I can think of no reason to put a cap and gown on a six year old for finishing kindergarten. And we wonder why America lags behind other nations. I guarantee you India and China are not taking out the cap and gowns till you finish engineering or medical school.

But the part of the story that triggered a memory for me was when Junie B was talking with Mr. Valoney, the janitor. I was intrigued that other children interact with their janitor. When I was in a Catholic elementary school, I used to interact with Bob the janitor. He was one of those guys with messy grey hair and tinted sunglasses, who wore a janitorgreen jumpsuit with his name stitched in Italicized letters, and appeared to have a quarter inch stoggy permanently glued to the corner of his mouth. He had a generally grumpy disposition, but he was kind to me. I know you are probably worried because of the Catholic church scandal that this will take a sick turn, it doesn’t.

Being a Catholic school, we were expected to pay to attend the school and then pay in child labor . We had to scrub and clean our desks Additionally, we had to provide the buckets, SOS pads, and other supplies. And remarkably, I remember this as being a festive way to finish out the school year. After gym class, themboys were rewarded with opportunity to help with preparations for Bingo. Bob usually supervised us. He always let me have the good jobs like bringing up the cases of soda to put in the coolers, while other boys had to unravel the tarp over the gymnasium floor and flip open the tables and chairs.

I remember one Christmas when my mother suggested I give Bob a present. She gave me a bottle of cheap wine in a brown paper bag to give to him. Did she consider this odd? Did she wonder what the teachers might say? Could we have spared some wrapping paper, at least. No. But somehow none of it mattered to Bob. I recall him being genuinely touched. I’m guessing when you are the janitor, you don’t expect to be seen or even known by name.

Hi, I’m 4wrd Thnkn Dad

I am a dad and I have two sons. I like to write about the interactions I have with them. Most of these moments are so ordinary, it is easy to take them for granted. And that is exactly why I blog about them. Through this process, I’ve noticed that my time with them is often a trigger for some of my own childhood memories. Therefore I have started to include that in my writing too. Since I just discovered Word Press.com, I have not figured out how to transfer my writing here. So if you are interested in reading more, go to http://4wrdthnkndad.blogspot.com

Compact Disc (CD) Generation

I’ve been thinking about the role of CD’s in our children’s developmental story line. They have been listening to home made CD’s since birth. The focus has shifted from music to nap to, to music class songs, to more recently, books on CD. The kids imitate and laugh about the lady who comes on at the beginning of the story to say, “this podcast is presented to you by Audible.com.” I wonder if Ry or J will ever begin a story with “Once upon a time.” I have become so dependent on being able to “burn” CD’s that it is hard for me to imagine being a parent without them.

There is a part of me that misses the social interaction or sense of community that came with music in the past. I remember standing by the glass door to the record store and looking in to see the rows of bins with records, 45’s in shelves, and portable record players. The owner’s wife had a white puffy hairstyle like a cartoon character might and a white poodle to match. She knew me. My sister would buy records from her and then we’d listen on the red, portable player. I liked going there, but as Pacific Stereo came in to town, the record store closed.

“Pacific Stereo” provided a generation of boys an outlet for displacing some of their sexual energy. They sold massive speakers, where bigger was better. You became familiar with woofers and tweeters. When you touched the large speakers, you could feel the vibrations throughout your body. We spent our free time just wandering the two floors of turntables, tuners and speakers. It was still pretty exciting to push the “power” button and watch and wait for the red light to go on. The big knobs on the tuners only added to the feeling of being powerful. When you turned it up, the sound just pounded in the room and no one cared. And then, like the record store and our adolescence, one day, the sign on the store window said, “We’ve Lost Our Lease-Everything must go.”

The end of Pacific Stereo ended my experience of a community based music experience and began the era of the “SONY Walkman.” It’s shocking to me when I see walkman knockoffs for a couple of bucks in Walgreens. I can still remember the first time I held the silver square box and put the silver headphones with orange ear pieces on. I was on a train from Rome to Florence, Italy. I was skeptical about how great the sound was, but I agreed to listen. I can still hear the “shhhhhhhhh” sound the tape made before the song began; and Paul Mc Cartney singing “Live and Let Die” followed by the guitar and the orchestra. I remember feeling transported out of my skin. The sound was crystal clear. It made the train appear to go faster. From then on, I loved putting on the Walkman and turning my ordinary world into a music video.

And now, I listen to the same music I probably bought at the record store as an LP, then at Pacific Stereo on tape, and as a greatest hits arrangement on the Walkman, and now as a down loadable song on my Ipod. I wonder what their story will be? Will Ry and J laugh at thought of burning a CD? I joked with my wife that Ipods will be on sale for a $1.00 at the thrift stores in several years. What will replace it? I think the next wave will have devices that are as small as rings or hearing aids. Perhaps we’ll all take a pill that will allow us to hear the music or watch the images we want in our brain. I just see the technology getting smaller and smaller, until it is simply passed on from one generation to another through your DNA.