Fatherhood Friday: Holiday weekend delay post

So the week was crazy with appointments and other drama. I am busy getting ready for the upcoming show at Arts and Ideas Gallery next month, and the details are killing me. More on the show later.

We had a great day on Friday, hauled all our crap to the driveway and sold a ton of stuff. The kid stuff that we have accumulated over the past four years has multiplied by 1000. What we didn't sell we donated to the church next door for their resale shop. We had planned on a sale last summer, but with the arrival of Eil, things like that got pushed aside.

Yesterday we packed a picnic and biked (with Anna on her bike) to Ella Sharp Park for a great afternoon playing and hanging out at Carter's Corners play area. The heat was pretty intense, so in lieu of a pool, I brought out the water toys and sprinkler. We were soaked, but had fun.

The evening last night was spent hanging out in the backyard "relaxing" and enjoying the great weather in anticipation of the fireworks later in the evening.

S'mores were made and beer was consumed.

All in all a great day.

The Hairy Potter

I am very glad that my parents allowed me to do creative things when I was a kid. Growing up in Toledo offered me a chance to take part in some great cultural events and programs. My parents knew that I had the artistic bent from the get-go and allowed me free reign with art supplies. At one point, my parents hooked me up with a local artist Virginia (her last name escapes me now) and we worked together in her studio while she designed a fountain for a local mall. It was very cool. My Dad’s business in its early years shared a building with a head shop/art gallery and I loved walking up the street to see my Dad and the artwork in the gallery. I remember a massive painting of a nude woman and where her breasts should have been were two massive light bulbs turned socket side out. I remember trips to the Toledo Museum of Art as a kid to see the mummy and all the other treasures therein. My heart still leaps when we drive down Monroe Street and the museum comes into view.


So, with a little trepidation and some internal cajoling, I committed to this year’s Kid’s College at JCC. My nickname, The Hairy Potter, became the theme and motivation for this annual week long art camp focused on 5th and 6th graders. In the past, I have ignored the true Harry Potter stuff, but this year we went crazy with the extras and created a pretty cool spot in the studio with flags, banners, some spooky props and silly house names. The area kids have only been out of school for a week, so we wanted to make this a fun place and space for them to chill out and have fun. I lived for this stuff when I was a kid and remember the hot and muggy afternoons spent at the junior high making stuff. It was fun to be out of school, but it was also fun to be back making art.

When I was in college, I received a work study grant to help out with the Museum’s Saturday kid’s art program. I became a little dizzy knowing that I would actually be teaching and helping out at the place that ignited my love of art. It was a thrilling moment to receive my official museum badge and to be able to go in through the back door instead of the main entrance. My art nerd was in full swing. There are a few of my students who help out each year and it is my hope that this week will inspire them and guide them in their path towards becoming a teacher. Sometimes the sublime moments are what get them, other times it’s the reality of just how much damage a group of tweeners can do to a room in three hours.

The schedule is rough this week, but we’re having fun. The kids are engaged, polite, and fun to be with. I am noticing that they are fearless when it comes to working on the potter’s wheel. My college students seem to hang back and want to immediately go for perfection while learning. Granted, they are doing it for a grade, but there is something to say for diving in full force and enjoying the experience and not necessarily going for a grade. Anna, in the musical “The King and I” had this to say about her profession:

It's a very ancient saying,

But a true and honest thought,

That if you become a teacher,

By your pupils you'll be taught.

There is much wisdom in those lines and I may take them to heart when I begin fall semester. Focus on the process and the craft and ignore the grade. Maybe we’ll see great things… but right now, the Hairy Potter has to go wedge some clay.

Don't smoke 'em if you've got 'em

Michigan’s smoking ban went into effect on May 1st and from what I can
tell, the world has not stopped. Oh sure, Touchdown Jesus bit it in a
freak storm, but for the most part, life has moved on with little
problem. I will admit that I am a former smoker, and we are the worst
when it comes to stuff like this, but with good reason. Smoking is a
very tough habit to break, and it is one that can be fought over and
over again until it is won. I was not alone in my excitement to have
the ban in place, as our notorious party animal friend Chuck said he
wanted to actually go bar hopping on the 1st to enjoy the bars smoke
free. Not sure if that ever happened, but rock on Chuckie!

When Anna was very young, I met up with a potential faculty member at
a local coffee house on my non-teaching day to discuss life at JCC and
what the job might entail. We were there for less than an hour at 9
am, but due to the constant stream of smoke from two vey caffeinated
smokers in the back, both of us smelled horrible and needed showers
and a change of clothes upon leaving. We purposely stayed out of
places we knew were smoky and would move if a cloud did come our way.
We weren’t pushy, nor did we ever throw water on someone smoking.

Tod and I went to New York in 2005 shortly after their smoking ban
went into effect. The change was amazing. In previous trips, we packed
double the clothes since going out to ANY bar or restaurant meant
coming home smelling like smoke. The spaces in NYC are notoriously
small and you just couldn’t hide. Imagine our surprise when we could
actually wear clothes a second time. Packing was a lot easier last
time we went.

I have talked with several restaurant owners here in town and they
both admit that business has gone down, mostly after the dinner
rush. The one restaurant, a fun and family-friendly Mexican restaurant
has actually seen their numbers go up since the ban, as more families
are coming in now that they don’t have to go home smelling like a bar.
But the bad news is that the dinners don’t pay the bills, it’s the
alcohol sales that foot the budgets in most places. The other place,
an Italian-bistro/bar has seen a marked decline, as their bar was THE
BAR to hang out at and smoke. The owner said that he is certain that
they smokers will come back once their pouting is done. Prior to the
ban, there was one smoke free place in town, and I am happy to report
that their business has not declined at all, and us non-smokers remain
loyal and true to those that look out for us.

So why am I writing about this on my family blog? I wouldn’t have
given this a second thought until a few days ago when I stopped in a
cigar shop to browse through their piles of discarded cigar boxes for
future art projects. I talked with the gentleman behind the counter
and asked him how business was. I prefaced this question with the fact
that I didn’t smoke, but I was not a fan of the government telling me
what I could and couldn’t do. I then told him that I was happy that I
could now go out with my kids and not have to worry about the smoke
getting to them (I know, I am a conundrum!).

His response is not what I expected and I was taken by surprised by his comments. He said that
there were plenty of “other opportunities” for us as a family and that
there didn’t need to be a statewide ban to protect my kids. I
mentioned that there was one smoke free place in town and he looked me
right in the eye and said, “What about all the fast food places? They
are smoke free, you could eat there.” Yes sir, we could,” I responded
and then remarked that it was nice to actually have a dinner where
someone brings you the food and the place is free of play structures
and clowns.

We never did get to the answer about how business was for
him, and at that point, I didn’t give a shit. There were a few people
in there during the 20 minutes I was checking out the boxes, but no
one seemed to be buying. Their sign out front defiantly reads: We’re
still smokin’! So yeah, the smokers are totally willing to throw us folks with kids
and those with a desire to remain healthy under the bus and relegate
us to the fast food joints so they can smoke while eating at all the
nice places. Note to smokers, FUCK YOU. You lost, stop whining and
good luck with quitting. It’s hard, I know, I did it and you can too
if you stop complaining about having to smoke outside and how your
rights are being trampled on.

My kids and their health come first and foremost when it comes to rights, so get over it and clean up your
butts when you are done smoking. Thanks.

Fatherhood Friday: Tattoo: A love story

Went in yesterday afternoon to get my sleeve started on my right arm. I decided to dedicate the arm to children's lit, and am having it filled with characters from my favorite, as well as my kid's favorite books. Characters such as Max, Olivia, Little Bear, Hop on Pop, and Harold will now find a home on my new sleeve.

The fun part will be the spider web from Charlotte's Web on my elbow. There is some speculation that a spider web signifies that you are a racist or have done time. I am not a racist, nor have I done time. The web will spell out TERRIFIC! and will hang above Olivia (Ian Falconer's creation) instead of Wilbur from the story.

Tod suggested that I get the web to say SOME PIG! but I declined.

The outlining is done, now we wait for this to heal and we’ll think about what to do next. Bill, the tattoo artist thinks that some Wild Things foliage and Suessian trees would fit the space nicely. We’ll see.

Until then, once the area heals, I am going to give Anna a pack of washable markers and let her have at my arm. Perhaps a color scheme will come from that.

P.S. The title of this entry is from a great movie that I was somewhat involved with here in Jackson. If you are a fan of indy films and love tattoos, this one is for you! I am honored and thrilled to know one of the stars and his family.

P.S.S. You can find Bill and his crew at Depot Town Tattoo here: http://depottowntattoo.com/home.html

Fatherhood Friday: A big kid at heart, but a senior citizen in body

We run into one of my former students and her two children at a local park on a fairly regular basis. Her boy is 3 and is very verbal compared to our Eli who is still in the grunt and point stage. One afternoon Eli, Anna and myself were climbing all over one of the play structures and Gabriel, the son of my student, walked by, waved, and said, “Hi little girl! Hi little kid! Hi big kid!” to Anna, Eli and myself as he passed each of us on his way down.


It cracked me up that this boy would consider me a kid and not a parent since I was up playing with my kids and not sitting on the bench passively watching and checking messages on my phone. I shared this with the class the next day and told my student that her 4.0 was in the bag. Yes, I am a big kid. I admit it. I love cartoons, I love to go and explore and play, and up until a wedding a few years back, I didn’t own a suit until I was over 40.

My ultimate play area is Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio. It is truly an amazing place with something for everyone. A lot of amusement parks are for the coaster/thrill junkies and leave the kids and wusses out in the cold, but not CP. It rocks, and my inner kid comes out every time I catch a glimpse of the coasters on the horizon as we head over the causeway into the park. A group of us tagged along with a school field trip to the park yesterday and had a blast. There’s nothing like riding in a comfy air-conditioned coach there and back, it’s heaven. I remember bleary-eyed, caffeine fueled drives there and back in my car when I lived in Toledo when I was much younger, and it’s nice to NOT have to do that.

So we packed up Anna and some of her peeps and had a blast. Anna is a few inches short of being tall enough for the big rides, but there is plenty to keep a junior coaster/thrill junkie happy. Taking a Grandparent along is a GREAT idea, as two of us who were big enough to ride the big ones ditched the kids with the grandparent and made tracks for the coasters. The Camp Snoopy area is wonderfully themed and if the kid is big enough, they can run from ride to ride and not have to have a parent with them. Since there are rides like the Tilt-a-Whirl and other twirl and puke rides, the kids can scramble their brains and I don’t have to risk public humiliation by tossing my lunch after the 5th ride.

So yes, I am a big kid, but as I type this, the reality of yesterday is squaring up with my 45 year old body. I am doing my best to remain awake and get into work later to catch up, but the coffee isn’t doing it. Getting home at 11:30 pm after a day at the park has taken its toll. I picked up my inhaler this morning as I was getting ready and sprayed it in my underarms thinking it was deodorant. I am just glad it wasn’t the other way around. I will do my best to retain this Peter Pan mentality as my kids grow, as I truly believe it’s what will keep me young, but right now, Peter Pan is glad that Tinkerbell is at daycare, ‘cause Peter needs a nap.

Fatherhood Friday: KISS Army

This past Christmas, I gave my niece Olivia a KISS t-shirt for a present, as my brother is a life-long member of the KISS Army. Hell, I would be too, if they allowed Gays in the KISS Army. I mean really, what’s not Gay about KISS? Makeup, theatrics, THE HAIR…


But I digress, in possible retribution for this gift; Eli was given a Queen t-shirt from my parents (at my brother’s urging perhaps?) for a recent gift giving event at our home. I love it, and I love Queen. They’re just like KISS but with more theatrics and less makeup. It still amazes me that people were surprised to find out that Freddie Mercury was Gay.

REALLY?

I suppose these were the same people who were shocked to find out Rob Halford (Judas Priest), Elton John, and the guy who played Jack on “Will and Grace” were all Gay as well. I remember at a very early age loving Elton John and his music, and before anyone panics, I have known I was Gay since I was in about 4th grade, well before any of this vinyl crossed my path. I came home from 6th Grade camp and my parents had bought Queen’s “A Night at the Opera” and the music blew me away. I pored over the artwork and songs in “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” and marveled at the wonders therein. A friend at art summer school had a copy in his locker and we would sit in the hallway at Whittier Junior High and wonder what it was all about. Music has been an important part of my life ever since I can remember, and I am working on instilling that with Anna and Eli. It doesn’t matter who made the music, or what their sexuality is, what matters is that it is GOOD music. So, with heads held high, Eli will proudly wear his Queen shirt, critics and homophobes be damned. The boy knows how to rock out, and has been known to don a fuzzy DJ Lance rave hat and Anna’s pink plastic Barbie shoes while raising the roof to a Romantics tune on the stereo.

My Dad told me about an article in the Toledo Free Press Magazine and wondered if we had had any problems with Eli wearing his shirt around town. Ironically, the first day he wore it to daycare, the daycare lady’s grandson (who is also Eli’s bestest buddy) was wearing the same exact shirt. Was I horrified? Hell yes, I pride myself on my children’s diverse, eclectic, and (thanks to Tod’s brother and sister in law in London) international wardrobe. The fact that another toddler was honing in on Eli’s hipster quotient was unforgiveable. We promptly de-friended Colton on Facebook and vowed to shop even harder for ironic/iconic hiptastic toddler wear.

Michael Miller, the author of the article my Dad shared with me had this to say:

To this point, we have not spent any time worrying about our sons and gender roles. For starters, we are firmly in the category of those who believe orientation is decided at the DNA level; it’s not a choice we are going to influence through exposing the boys to Metallica, rare steak and Robert Mitchum’s “Night of the Hunter.”


We have let them play and explore with death-dealing robots, super heroes, dragons, and princesses, mermaids and Julie Andrews’ “Sound of Music” as they want to.

There are so many child-raising factors to deal with — health, education, socialization, potty training and 1,000 other challenges — that devoting energy to being concerned about an orientation we can’t control does not make any sense. I do not believe letting Evan wear a Queen T-shirt with lyrics to a song he has never even heard the complete version of is going to determine the gravity of his future loafers. Frankly, it’s icky to even be on that path of speculation.

I couldn’t agree more, and hope that more people adopt this kind of attitude towards their kids and their futures. Let the kids love what they chose to love music-wise (even if it is vomit-inducing Justin Bieber or Mylie Cyruss) and let them embrace their inner Lady Gaga if they want, there are worse things they could do. And when they bring that special someone home, know that their music choices early on had NOTHING to do with it. Although, as a caveat, boys who like show tunes are usually Gay, just sayin’.

There are no guarantees in life, and I would hesitate to even think about demanding a perfect child. Just imagine if Freddie’s Mom or Dad had tried to change him, the world would be a less fabulous place and “Wayne’s World” (The movie) would simply suck.

You can read Miller’s entire article here:

http://www.toledofreepress.com/2010/04/23/mercury-rising/

I thank him for letting me share his work with my readers.

It has begun

Our friend Tom loves kids, it’s just the parents he can do without. He remarked to us one day that regardless of the sexuality, gender, or marital status of the parents, when two or more are gathered, poop happens. No, we’re not talking about scat or two parents one cup here, we’re talking about talking about poop. It’s inevitable, there’s no getting around it, and it’s as regular as, well, defecation.


Honestly, we can’t help it. The endless hours of watching SpongeBob and the Wiggles have left very little space in our sleep deprived brains for anything but talk of what goes on in and off the potty. It unites us, it’s like we’ve seen battle or done time, sure there may be differences in our experiences, but in the end, it’s all shit.

When I begin my Art History class, we start at the Renaissance, the “rebirth” of the world and the beginning of art for many Westerners. As we zoom through 500 years of art covered in the text, we come to what is going on now and I share with them modern/conceptual art, some of which is good, and some of which, is shit, literally. It amazes me that after 500 years of human achievement and luscious artwork we end up talking about Belgian artist Wim Delvoye and his amazing poop-machine Cloaca. And who can forget Piero Manzoni’s “Artist’s Shit” a collection of cans holding the artist’s shit, to be sold for the going price of gold.

For real.

To my delight and disgust, some of these cans in collections around the world have actually exploded. It makes me wonder if I am teaching the course backwards and should actually start with this shit and end with the good stuff.

And with that said, we’re starting to potty train Eli, or rather, he’s training us. He will actually say “Dee!” which I believe is short for pot-dee and point to the nearest can. Right now, the novelty of it is keeping him involved and eager to try this new-fangled thing in his life. He goes in, drops trou, and rips off his diaper like a Chippendale Dancer ripping off their stripper pants on stage. It’s all drama, but part of the process.

There will be bumps, there will be accidents. There will be tears and there will be much more discussion on this topic for sure.

For more on Wim and his machine, check out his great website: http://www.wimdelvoye.be/