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Family Fatherhood

Why I’m OK Without Facebook

I wrote this a few years ago when I left Facebook the first time. I’d since gotten back on Facebook–clean slate. I started over with a new list of friends; some old, some new. But, I still wasn’t spending more than a few minutes at a time scrolling through whatever meager posts the site offered me.

And then, a week or so ago I posted something very benign. A “Friend” of mine that I’ve known since high school responded. He was “picking” at me, much as he did in school. I didn’t like it then; don’t like it now. But, he didn’t stop with just one post, but rather 5 more posts. Finally, I deleted the post and shut down FB. He messaged me a few minutes later apologizing. Even said he wife said he was being an “asshole.” Yep, he was.

But, the older I get, the less I need additional, unwarranted drama in my life. And if my so-called “Friends” on FB are causing unnecessary drama, well guess what? There’s something I can do about that.

I’ve shut down my account again. Maybe permanently, maybe not. But this post from a few years ago summarizes my feelings about FB (and other Social Media)

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Before Facebook, I knew that I was often irrational. That my feelings sometimes got the best of me and that I often said things that maybe people shouldn’t say to other people. But then I realized that my parents did it and my parents’ parents did it and we all turned out OK.

Before Facebook, I knew who my true friends (and family) were. I knew that I could pick up the phone and call a select few people and they would be there day or night. And my Friend list didn’t comprise 400 people, most of who have to rely on Facebook notifications to know when my birthday is.

Before Facebook, I knew that, as a father, I am flawed. I knew that I could be myopic about projects; often ignoring all else in order to finalize something I was working on that would benefit my family. But I also knew that I spent a lot of time with my kids and my wife. That most of my weekends I spend running back and forth from one sports game to another and when not doing that, often playing with my kids in the yard throwing balls, riding bikes, you know…family stuff. But I also knew that I hug my children–a lot. A lot more than I was hugged as a child. And I tell my kids how special they are and how much I love them. And I have to believe, that no matter how I might yell sometimes, my kids can’t help but know how much I love them–because I’ve shown them.

Before Facebook, I knew that 14 years of marriage can make things seem a little stale–that maybe it’s not quite as exciting as it is when you’re first dating. But I also knew that my marriage was strong. That what we have as a couple is the envy of millions of single adults. And maybe we don’t have date-night as often as we’d like, but it’s not because as a man, I don’t care about my wife–that’s just life. You make sacrifices and you live with it. Period.

Before Facebook, I knew that I had a mild case of body dismorphic disorder. Despite being more active and fit  than the majority of men I know, I still felt as if I’m somehow not skinny enough, or strong enough, or active enough.

Before Facebook, I could enjoy a person’s company, unfiltered by knowing every proclivity and every opinion they’ve voiced. Their personal political views, or sexual orientation or the crazy things that went on in their heads that they kept to themself didn’t interject itself into our relationship. Who cared? We’re friends because we “jive” not because we agree.

Before Facebook, I could pretend that the people I thought cared about me, actually cared. I didn’t have to wonder why someone I grew up with never comments on my posts, or why they act like I don’t even exist online. If I called and got your vmail and you never called back…I knew to let it go.

Before Facebook, men were men and women were women. However ‘wrong’ society might feel our actions to be, the consequences were ours alone to endure. We didn’t have memes telling us that traditional gender roles are outdated and that we’re somehow wrong if we feel that men should still do these sorts of things and women should do these sorts of things. And if a couple doesn’t adhere to gender roles…great…they’ll work it out between them and live a happy life.

And on that note, before Facebook, I knew that my wife worked hard. That her full-time job and the time she spends with the kids often goes unremarked. But then, the same could be said of me. I didn’t need a women’s group pointing out how much money I should spend ensuring my wife gets spa treatments or nights out with the girls, while ignoring the fact that I work 10 hour days (incl. commute), come home many nights and cook dinner or bathe kids and still do all the many other things required to keep a house from falling down around us.

Before Facebook, no one was constantly pointing out every woman’s successess and demonizing the efforts of men. Sure, maybe there wasn’t absolute gender equality in every facet of life, but we were surely moving in that direction on our own and everyone was benefitting from it.

Before Facebook, I didn’t feel guilty not evangelizing my faith. I’d come to grips with that the fact that I’m more a “James the lesser”, than a John the Baptist and was fairly confident that my sincere belief in God would suffice to qualify me for a seat in heaven, rather than the works that I did here on earth convincing others that free will should be trumped by fear or guilt.

Before Facebook, if I didn’t want to purchase a used pooch from the animal shelter, no one made me feel horrible about buying a bred-for-the-family purebreed from a reputable breeder.

But Facebook takes all of these things…all the things that makes life, life and it makes you feel like you’re wrong for living it your way, while trying its darned best to ensure that you live it “their” way. And that’s wrong. It’s OK if you want to surround yourself with others who live and love and feel as you do and you shouldn’t feel as if every time you look at Facebook, you have to defend yourself or your actions or feelings to someone else just because they post some strongly worded comment or picture-story that has 3,000 Likes from some international agency of change.

So I’m OK letting it go. No more will I be ruled by hurt feelings just because people didn’t agree with my posts. Likely, Facebook just didn’t show it to that many people anyway. It’s playing with our feelings and our lives and I’m quite through with it.

I’m OK without Facebook.

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Dad Blogs Fatherhood

Robo-Dad

Twenty five years ago I herniated my first disc. It was at the L4/L5 level. I didn’t know what happened exactly. I was stationed at the Pentagon working in the Air Force. But, I lived on Ft. Myer, an Army outpost.

I went to the hospital inside the Pentagon–also an Army facility–and was given a generic diagnosis and some extra-strength Tylenol. I lived with that pain throughout my military career and into my civilian life, where a few years later, I finally was diagnosed with the herniation after a bone scan, x-rays, and finally an MRI.

The doctor then indicated no option but surgery, and lacking any local family, well, that scared the hell out of me. How would I take care of myself for the required one week of bedrest, and 8 weeks of reduced activity?

Years later, after I was married, when the Fire Dept. had to come pick me up off my living room floor because I couldn’t move from the pain–and ended up in the hospital on morphine–I figured it was time for surgery.

I’ve since had two discectomies, both at the L4/L5 and L5/S1 levels. One herniation for my first surgery, two in my second. There is now, no real disc material left there.

Now, I’m not young, but I’m still very active. It’s a vicious cycle though. If I exercise and do the things I want to do, I hurt more. If I don’t, I gain weight like a mo-fo, which affects me phsycologically, and then there’s the issue of weight gain and health problems.

Despite being very careful with my exercise routine, as of now, I have another herniation (it’s a degenerative condition at this point) and my only options up until lately have been to have a spinal fusion, or a disc replacement.

Discs

Fusion at my age is a big ol’ heck no. The disc replacement, while not a bad option, isn’t ideal either. I’m told it’s not putting it in that’s the problem; it’s the removal of it, and any pieces it’s broken into when it wears out in a few years, that is very dangerous.

But recently, my doctor talked to me about a spinal stimulator. It’s a little wirey device that lays beside your spine above your pain, and intercepts the signal to your brain. The goal is 50% + reduction in pain.

It’s not without its issues:

  • You have to have a test installed for a week. That’s not fun.
  • Once final, you have the wires and a device the size of those rubbery change holders we all had as kids, sewed into your lower back.
  • You have to charge it every week.
  • You have to undergo a psych eval, because apparently some early patients freaked out about having something foreign in the body and did Lord knows what to themselves.

But, I think it’s worth a shot. At least it’s reversible, unlike a spinal fusion.

So we’ll see how this goes. My insurance company is going to LOVE me. But, it’s probably cheaper than 20 more years of epidurals and RF ablation.

 

 

Categories
Dad Blogs Family Life in these United States

Making Peace and “Accepting”

About two months ago, I got a panicked call from my father’s partner in Florida. A cough he’d had for a few months finally forced him to go to the doctor, where tests revealed a large mass in his lung. Cancer. He’ll be 83 this August.

Back at home in North Carolina, further testing put him at a borderline Stage 3A/3B, which means it’s treatable, but just barely, and the long term prognosis is generally not good at all.

A month and a half into his treatments, they had to go in and remove fluid from his lungs and this revealed pleural effusion, which is untreatable. They’ve given him 4-6 months.

It’s a hard thing going from an expectation of having a couple of years, to just a few months. No one is prepared for it. Not him, not me. We’re all sort of lost right now.

Being 3.5 hours away makes it difficult to say the least. You want to be with them, even if you know it’s going to be awkward as hell just sitting around staring at each other. He’s very weak already, so “doing” anything is mostly out of the question. And you want to constantly check on them, but when you hardly ever talked to begin with, calling now is just awkward.

His partner is old herself and frankly, not coping well mentally. Over the past 10 years they’ve been together, her “northern ways” have alienated pretty much everyone in the family. I have done my best to ignore her antics, and the fact that, because he’s taking care of her every need, he’s only come to my house once. Once–in the last 10 years.

Since his terminal diagnosis, I’ve been up to her house a couple of times. Neither times has been pleasant, as I’d already evoked, “You’re not his wife” on the phone once in frustration, and been subsequently hung up on.

Despite being his only real kin from a “nuclear family” standpoint, she has insisted on being his sole caregiver, even (in my opinion) having the audacity to insist she be listed first on his Advanced Directive.

But, in the spirit of “it’s about him” and “not about us,” I let that too pass.

Almost…

I was visiting my father a couple of months ago, going over his “vast holdings” (and I say that sarcastically). It came up that, he owned a pad in an RV park in Florida. It is right next to the one she owns, upon which her $250K RV sits all year. During the conversation, it came up that my father was going to sell her his lot. Great. I had no issue with that. And then she said, “Well, I think he should give it to me. All these years I’ve paid for the house he lives in, and the vacations and I’ve never asked him for nothing.”

I probably should have taken a breath before speaking, but I’m me, so instead, I said, “Wait, you got upset at me for saying you weren’t his wife, but now you want to treat him like someone you just met on the street and say that he owes you for him living with you and literally driving you everywhere, and taking care of everything for the last ten years? If you were married, you wouldn’t be saying this. So which is it?”

I left; time passed.

I got a call from the manager at the RV park, saying he’d gotten an email from my father’s “girlfriend” that said he was “giving” her the property. I immediately called my father who said that was untrue.

Now, to clarify, at one point, she was worth several million dollars. I doubt even she knows her net worth at this point, but it’s at least north of $2M and probably more. So why she was insisting my father give her anything, riled me.

At any rate, I went back up again a few weeks back because, SURPRISE!, my father didn’t have a Will. He apparently thought that he could just tell someone what he wanted and it would magically happen. And despite repeated attempts, he would NOT do anything legally himself. So, I went up with a prepared Will, and had a Notary coming by the house. It was all planned out.

It took about 30 minutes for the fit to hit the shan. Long story short, I completely shattered “her” world and told her what I thought of her.

I’ve since been asked not to come back, as has the only other member of the family who might help them.

I’m not looking for sympathy here. In fact, if there’s anything I hope people take from stories like this, it is this: Don’t wait. Don’t wait until you are sick to do all the legal things you should do to make your passing easy on those who love you. If you wait, anything they do to help you prepare, is going to be viewed by you (the dying one) as materialistic and greedy. As a parent, you should already have your loved ones’ best at heart. They shouldn’t have to make sure you have a Will, and make sure you have an Advanced Directive. Be an adult and do these things BEFORE you’re too sick to care.

I won’t be going back to her house unless it’s to clean out his things, either while he’s still alive, or after he passes. And if it’s the latter, I suspect I’ll have to get the Sheriff involved, but that’s fine.

When your parents get old (and you do too) you realize they are just people. They aren’t perfect; they have problems just like everyone else. And they have made, and will continue to make, bad decisions. Some, more damaging than others.

I love my dad. Really, he’s the only “original family” I have left that I care about. Nothing that happens between now and 4-6 months from now will change that. It’s just a shame we can’t spend time together.

 

 

 

 

Categories
Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood Life in these United States

An Open Letter to Youth Sports Organizers Everywhere

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My kids are now 14, 11 and 8. And they all have played, and continue to, sports in our town’s youth programs. With the exception of my daughter’s soccer, all of the other sports are coached by parents–usually dads, with a mom every now and then.

The first season or two when my oldest son played, it became clear that some of the parents didn’t have sports backgrounds, or were just in it so that their own kid didn’t get stuck playing defense all the time, or didn’t get stuck in the outfield where no balls every dared.

So I have coached my share of sports: soccer, flag football, baseball, and basketball. And I’ve coached “Rec,” which means that everyone who comes out, plays, even if they have zero athletic ability or interest. And I have coached, “Select,” which is better, because you actually get to draft a good better team.

But every season, as the tryouts or drafts draw near, our local Rec organizers send out pitiful email about needing coaches and they make sure to remind us that without more volunteer coaches, teams will be large and kids won’t get much playtime. For those of us with kids who are actually good, the thought of having to play with kids who are not, but who also get equally mandatory play time, is just defeating.

So, more often than not, I find myself volunteering to coach (again). A couple of years ago I coached basketball and I swore, “Never again.” But, this past winter the call for coaches came down and once again I found myself volunteering. It went, as expected.

We played 5×5. I had 8 kids on my team. There was a draft, but it was a draft of all the kids who came out. So, your first pick was usually your own kid, since most of us coaches had kids who were good players, and so they were ranked high and therefore our “First Round Draft Pick.”

It quickly went downhill from there. By the time you’re on the 4th round, you’re having to pick from kids you had ranked at tryouts as piddling at best and your only goal was to get someone who could at least take instruction and had some little bit of athletic ability.

I ended up with:

  • My son (first round), who is fast and a decent shooter, though when he’s rushed, his shooting percentage goes out the window.
  • Another good player (second round), who was big and aggressive, but as the year progressed, he just wouldn’t shoot.
  • An athletic and quick kid from my son’s football team. By this time in the draft the choices were slim and I had to pick kids I didn’t know who “might” be good, or kids I did know who I at least knew were coachable. As it turns out, this pick was good on “D” but only made two baskets all season
  • One other kid (4th round) who was very athletic, but who missed the first two weeks of practice due to LaCross. And then missed several more practices and a couple of games. He was a non-factor.
  • One surprise pick up (5th round) who ended up being my overall 3rd best player. He wasn’t a shooter, but he was hell on defense!
  • My 6th-8th picks were “hat picks,” meaning, by this time in the draft, no one wanted to “pick” anyone, so we literally put their names in hats and you got what you got. Unsurprisingly, they were not good players. One of mine was always late, spilled his water on the floor during games almost weekly, and asked me ridiculous questions, almost nonstop.

We had a decent year. We started out 4-0 and then just sort of unraveled ending up I think either right at 500, or slightly below it. I had two kids who could shoot and that was it. It’s hard to win that way. But it is what it is.

I was so frustrated by the end of the season that I drafted an email to the league, which I never sent. I’ve been pretty vocal in the past and I paused before sending this to make sure I wasn’t just being petty; and then I just never sent it.

In retrospect, I don’t think it’s petty. But, I also don’t think they care. That said, if you’re in a position of running a youth sport in your community, and you rely on volunteer coaches; this is something you should read:

Dear [league organizer],

Not knowing what opportunity we will have to provide feedback in the post-season, I would like to offer some thoughts based on this season.

To start, 8 kids is too many. Most of mine showed up for every game, so I had three kids on the bench most of the time. It’s especially too many when some teams get 2 hat picks—3 really if you consider the final round of actual coach picks, a hat pick, which it pretty much is. This means that at any given time, I have at least one kid on the court who literally has no idea what he’s doing and usually another kid who rarely comes to practices. That means I have two kids on the court at all times that have no clue what’s going on.  Forget about trying to run a play.

Maybe not all coaches had this issue, but I had a kid with obvious behavioral problems that I was constantly having to deal with both on the court and on the bench, but he came to every game. Couple the above with the playtime restrictions and how complicated it is to sanction kids who don’t show up for practices, but show up for games, and you really make it not fun for coaches.

Now I know the argument here is that it’s Rec ball and it’s supposed to be fun and non-competitive and open to everyone. But the reality is that you’ve got some really good players out there and coaches—like myself—who put in a minimum of 8 hours a week prepping for practices and games and playing them. These players, their parents, and us coaches take it seriously, and we all should. Anything worth doing, is worth doing well. But it’s a disservice to all parties when coaches are forced to play kids who never show up for practices, alongside—and at nearly equal playing times—kids who want to be out there and who have put in the work. The process for documenting and dealing with these kinds of issues are ridiculously onerous and frankly, it puts the coaches in a horrible place with parents, rather than the league taking up the issue and dealing with it.

I’ve coached every sport my kids have played in Roswell: soccer, football, basketball and baseball. Every year the Rec sends out messages pleading for coaches and every year, moms and dads step up. But it feels like the love goes right out the door the moment you get your team. I’ve sent requests for things this year that went unanswered for weeks. On top of that, we had tournament brackets released at the last minute (I know you were waiting on some older kids’ games to finish, but our age group was done on Monday, and we didn’t get the standings until Thursday, the day of the tournament) with seemingly no respect for the fact that in addition to coaching, most of us have full time jobs, plus other kids playing sports, etc.

Once the season starts, it’s parents first and coaches last—one of the league’s members even said that in the coaches’ meeting. And I’m sorry, but that’s wrong. Without the parents who step up, there would be no teams, plain and simple.”

There. I said it. Time to move on.