If They Only Knew

I’m aware that it is presently fashionable to bitterly complain about Facebook, with it’s predatory trading of our privacy for profit and all that. But I would like to pause a minute to praise them for something. Through their platform, I have been able to keep up with scores of young men who otherwise would have drifted out of my life years ago. I am referring to the many boys I taught in Sunday school 10-15 years ago, boys who are now, magically, fully grown men. I see the pictures of them holding their new born infants. I see the pictures of little ones in Easter finery squinting into the bright morning sun, and remember how impossible it was to get those pictures right on those chaotic mornings in what seems now like a hundred years ago. I see pictures of them playing with their children in parks, at the beach, with the grandparents. I want to tell them how lucky they are, how they should savor every moment, not wish any of it away. The fact is that I’m so incredibly proud of them all. 

But in our new, idealized social media world, pictures can be deceiving, often this deception is actually the point. We all want to put only our best foot forward. But, every once in a while I will see a photograph that rings true, whether intentional or not. I see the forced smile of the dad, the exhaustion in his eyes, the worry lines starting to form. These are the pictures that I cherish, because they bring back the heavy weight of hard memory, the great season of self doubt that defines what being a father is all about. Look closely in the eyes of that dad with his little leaguer and you will see a man wondering how in God’s name he is ever going to be able to put his kids through college. The only human emotion more powerful than the love he feels for his children is the fear that he will end up failing them.

Yesterday, my daughter arrived here in Myrtle Beach to spend a couple of days with us. She brought me a couple of cool presents. Then she handed me this birthday card, which was actually a postcard. I flipped it over read her words and they astonished me...

I know this isn’t your typical birthday card, but when I saw the picture on the front, I thought to myself, “This is exactly how I’ve always imagined my dad!” ...strong, capable, heroic, someone who routinely saves the day. I saw you this way when I was a little girl, and I still see you this way (maybe even more so) now that I’m 30 and you’re 60...

Speaking of heroic, it took quite a heroic performance to get through a public reading of such a card without an embarrassing gush of tears. As I read it, I thought...if she only knew. If she only knew how terrifying it all was, how many times I felt like a complete failure. If she had any idea how racked with self doubt I was, how inadequate I felt, she would never have chosen a card with Atlas bearing the weight of the world, more appropriate would have been a card featuring the ancient King Sisyphus, pushing a giant boulder up a hill, only to have it roll back down again.

But then it hit me. The fact that my little girl viewed me as heroic was no small thing. Perhaps, it was half the battle. Maybe, the simple fact of projecting strength and competence was just as important as actually being strong and competent. Maybe that’s part of being a father, communicating to your children that you have things well in hand, even...and especially, when you don’t!

So, a word to all of you incredible young men out there raising your beautiful children, and you all know who you are...godspeed. You have a monumental task ahead of you, and your little ones are watching you. No matter how difficult the job gets, they are worth every sacrifice. I see you. I know the burdens. I remember the hardships. No matter what the smiling pictures say, I know what keeps you up at night. But, you too will prevail. One day, before you know what happened, that adorable little girl, that precocious little boy will hand you a birthday card that will bring it all back. And you will shake your head and think...if they only knew.

Advice From the Dog

You wake up on the 21,536th day of your life looking for reassurance from the roaring surf of the Atlantic Ocean at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Instead you gaze out from your balcony into a Dickensian fog bank so thick you can hardly find the end of the dunes. Is this the famous disorientation of old age that I have been warned about by friend and foe alike? I will leave this to the reader to decide.

My sister gave me something for my birthday that I truly love...

I have always believed in the wisdom of dogs, always considered their instincts more reliable than most humans. My dearly beloved second Golden Retreiver, Molly, possessed the most incorruptible spirit of any living thing I have ever known. She had a working vocabulary of more words than your average Congressman, and a heart as packed full of love and devotion as Mother Theresa’s. My present Golden, Lucy, isn’t nearly as linguistically fluent, and comes with more personality quirks and emotional scar tissue than Donald Trump’s therapist, but still has the power to warm my heart with a thousand daily graces that only dog lovers would understand.

So, this coffee mug seems like a perfect suggestion for the second 60 years of my life:

Ask for what you want—loudly if necessary.

Go after what you want.

Unleash your talents. 

Learn new tricks often.

But, the best “Advice From the Dog” found on this mug is on the back...

I plan on doing a lot of this...

Shutting Down The Tempest

After over seven years and 1600 posts, today I am shutting down The Tempest. Once you’ve written over a million words, at some point you’ve said about all you have to say.

April Fools!!!

But, since you’re here, I suppose I owe you something. Besides, it’s Easter Sunday, the day that our Lord and Savior rose from the dead. If I were a more devout Christian, I would write something spiritual...to go with all of the religious themed memes that have flowered on my Facebook feed. Instead, I will celebrate the empty tomb by sharing another batch of Dad Jokes. It is my sincere belief that the famous abundant life which Jesus died to provide for us includes heaping helpings of laughter, even if it comes with cringing...

If you see a robbery at an Apple store, does that make you an iWitness?

I’m reading a book about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down.

What time did the man go to the dentist? Tooth hurt-y.

Spring is here! I got so excited I wet my plants.

What’s Forest Gump’s password? 1forest1

How do you make a Kleenex dance? Put a little boogie in it.

I had a job at a calendar factory but I got fired because I took a couple of days off.

How do you make Holy Water? Boil the hell out of it.

What do call a dog who can do magic? A labracadabrador.

Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl go to the bathroom? Because the pee is silent.

You’re welcome.

The Pope Rips a Gaping Hole in the English Language

Earlier this week, the Pope sent shock waves through the spiritual world by declaring that hell doesn’t actually exist. Although the theological ramifications of such a declaration are profound enough, the impact on the English language will be equally severe. With one sentence in one interview in one Italian newspaper, the Pope has managed to render meaningless a thousand colorful phrases that make up the respectable corner of communication known as soft profanity. If hell, in fact, does not exist, then the following expressions are rendered meaningless, and we are poorer for it!

1. Hell bent for leather.

Granted, in the best of times I’ve never quite understood this one, but now that hell isnt a thing it makes even less sense.

2. Catching hell.

Since it’s impossible to catch something from nothing, this one has to go.

3. Going to hell in a handbasket.

Another strange formulation which will be put out of its misery by the Pontiff.

4. Until hell freezes over.

Not gonna happen. Ever. 

5. Come hell or high water.

I’d bet on the high water.

6. A snowball’s chance in hell.

Again...my money is on the snowball.

7. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

While it has always been difficult to describe the intensity of a wronged woman’s  vindictiveness, with this latest papal decree, one of the best descriptions ever cobbled together in the English language has lost its effectiveness. Back to the drawing board.

8. All hell breaks lose.

Not any more.

9. Raising hell.

Impossible.

10. There will be hell to pay.

No. There will not. Thanks to the Pope, we all have one less creditor to worry about.

Your Friday News Roundup

Friday, March 30, 2018

A roundup of the day’s news:

Laura Ingraham, in another inflammatory Tweet, has suggested that 17 year old anti-gun spokesman David Hogg forgot to do his math homework twice in one week during his troublesome junior year algebra II class.

In his Yankee debut, outfielder Giancarlo Stanton hit two titanic home runs, forever cementing his place among the most despised and reviled Yankees of all time, and casting a dark cloud over the future of the game of baseball in every city in America that’s not New York.

To the profound relief of hundreds of millions of sinners throughout the world, the Pope today proclaimed that there is no hell. Instead of eternal punishment after an unrepentant life of selfishness and debauchery, the formally damned masses can now look forward to the sweet bliss of simply disappearing. “It was all just a terrible misunderstanding,” the pontiff explained.

After hanging around since last freaking August, millions of shriveled, crunchy dead brown leaves have finally begun giving up their death grip on the area’s live oak trees. Warmer temperatures and yesterday’s gusty winds apparently convinced them of what everyone thought was painfully obvious long ago...that there really was no longer any point of pretending that they were actually living leaves. 

In the longest stretch of controversy-free days of the Trump Presidency, major news organizations marked “day four” with cautious optimism, as there have been no firings, no embarrassing Tweets, no new porn star allegations, and no creepy crypto-sexual references to daughter Ivanka since early Monday.

Joke Therapy

My friend is home now and improving day by day. Still, some days are better than others. Since yesterday wasn’t a great day, I decided that I would try to lift her spirits. But, how?

Really horrible Dad Jokes, that’s how!

One of the great things about the internet and search engines is the fact that nobody ever has to wonder about anything anymore. Last night for example, I was sitting at my desk in the library wondering if there existed anywhere a collection of Dad Jokes. A quick Google search yielded the answer with a resounding YES!! In a nanosecond, thousands of them were at my fingertips, organized and annotated for my convenience. I put together a quick best of collection and fired them off in a text message to my friend. In doing so I was taking a big risk. I mean, if you are fighting off nausea, it might not be a great idea to read something like this:

How does a penguin build it’s house?.......... Igloos it together.

or

Want to hear a joke about paper?........... Nevermind, it’s tearable.

But, on the other hand, sometimes really corny jokes are actually hilarious, so bad they’re good. Like this one:

Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?...... Because they’re so good at it!

and

A furniture store keeps calling me. All I wanted was one night stand.

Well, I hope it helped. I might not be able offer any tangible help to my friend, but when it comes to mindless humor, I’ve got the market cornered!

On another note...this morning I finished reading the Bible in 90 Days. Actually, I got it done in 88 Days but who’s counting? Most significant spiritual exercise I have ever completed. A few observations:

Favorite Old Testament book....Ruth

Least favorite Old Testament book...Ezekiel 

Favorite New Testament book.....Acts

Least favorite New Testament book....Revelation

The most dominant, consistent theme I encountered in the Bible was the fact that God really, really can’t stand proud, arrogant people.

Another big theme that appears throughout is that God expects us to take care of poor people, the sick, widows, orphans and the stranger among us.

One more thing...after reading the entire Bible in such a short period of time, the one overwhelming feeling that came over me was the realization of how little I really know. 

An Accounting

One week from today, I will turn 60. It’s been quite a while since any birthday has so occupied my thoughts as this one has. For those of you who are older, you might consider this obsession quaint and perhaps even irritating. For those of you who are younger, the fact that I am turning 60 might be the cause of great anxiety...Wait, if Mister D is 60, that means that I too am getting,(gulp)...old!

It’s just a number, I’m told. 60 is the new 50, I’m told. Age is merely a human construct. You’re as young as you feel. These are the assurances I hear from friends. 

It’s just a number...Yes. A large number.

60 is the new 50... Advances in medical science and the resulting increases in human lifespan may in fact make this one true. But, if true, this means that ultimately 100 will be the new 90, and I take little comfort in that prospect.

Age is merely a human construct... This is psycho-babble...a phrase that is meant to sound wise and profound but actually means virtually nothing, or worse, anything you wish for it to mean.

You’re as young as you feel... Ah...here’s the rub. Feelings, a notoriously unreliable indicator of anything! You can feel fantastic, right up to the instant when you get run over by a truck. Physically, I feel pretty good. But I do not feel as good as I felt when I was 25, and anyone who claims to is a liar who is most likely trying to sell you bogus testosterone supplements. Mentally, I feel sharper than I’ve ever been, something I am very grateful for, but maturity hasn’t always brought enlightenment with it. Too often, the accumulation of experience brings greater cynicism, more skepticism, a stubborn rigidity...Get off my lawn!! I fight this off at every turn.

So, I turn 60 next week. To stave off any hint of self pity, an accounting of life’s blessings seems in order.

I’m in good health.

My wife is smart and beautiful.

I work with honorable men and women.

My children have never embarrassed me despite the fact that the reverse has never been true.

My daughter married a gem of a man.

My son is about to marry a gem of a woman.

My large extended family have lived lives largely free of scandal.

I have friends, old and new, who make me proud.

I am not now, nor will I ever be a member of AARP.