House Husbandry

To be or not to be … retired?  That is not the question.  It would seem my more relevant question should be, “How retired do I want to be?” 

   There really isn’t anything peculiar about retirement.  I write of it simply because “retirement” is the description of my current stage in life; the same question confronts us regardless of our status.  How much do you want to play, study, work, or perform are equally relevant questions. 

          As we advance through life, play as a child, study in school, and work in our “earning years” define what obligates us; leisure as a senior citizen describes a gift of time.    If inclined, it isn’t hard to become a game freak, perennial student, workaholic, or monomaniac in our respective stages of life.  Where is the balance?

   “To be or not to be” is not the question.  “How to be and not to be” at the same time is the question.  That is a conundrum of life. 

   We knew how to balance life when we were kids.  Playing always took precedence over chores, lessons, even eating; the choice was simple and self-evident.  Our friends didn’t mind trampling across our wardrobe to navigate our bedrooms.  We went to school complaining about the onus of homework but somehow managed a social life.  I know this because there just aren’t many of us living in convents or monasteries.  

   As we grew older we gained perspective in many realms but somehow lost it in maintaining balance.  How can we “be successful” and still have a life?  How can we be workers and be husbands or wives, parents, friends or servants?  How do we balance productivity with play, occupational advancement with parenthood, or new careers with the leisure of retirement?

   I was a public servant for nearly half a century.  I am “officially” retired, but I still want to contribute.  I have chosen the modality of writing.  Everything I read from every successful writer tells me that to be successful I have to write every day and “guard jealously the time to write.”  That is a huge time and energy commitment, and by making it I can easily become mono-manic.  I have been a workaholic; it isn’t that noble, and I doubt it was necessary.  The question of how simultaneously to be and not to be lingers.

   My first “official” act as a retiree was to get married; I am a newlywed.  I have a bride who I want to spoil.  On top of that she is still teaching and needs all the spoiling I can give her.  Yet, I hear from some of you when too much time passes between my posts.  The blog experts tell me that if I don’t keep you coming back regularly, you won’t come back.  The competition for your attention is extreme.  The balance between writing and house-husbandry is my personal conundrum.

   I know this isn’t anything new to you wives and mothers working outside the home or for some of you men, but for me it is a new adventure.  It is a new scene in my story.  So, what I have here is a preview of coming attractions.  I intend to add a new topic to this blog, “The Hazards of House Husbandry,” the exploits of one old dog trying to learn new tricks in the balancing act of life.  Stay tuned; it won’t be that long until the first installment, “Does Stephen King Vacuum?”

Super Bowl Lite

An Attitude of Platitude

   For two weeks the sports media subjects the American viewing public to an onslaught of questions, interviews, perspective, prediction, quibbling and minutia dissecting a single football game.  It is non-stop verbiage presented with an attitude of platitude.

   To save hours of viewing redundancy I distilled it to the gist.  All that remains is for the teams to play and the final score.

   A host of former players and coaches, reporters, and NFL insiders present the “Keys to the Game.”  A sampling:

   "Turnovers could decide the game.”

“Injuries could be a big factor.”

“Special teams could play a big part.”

“Big plays could decide the game.”

“Both teams need to limit big plays.”

“Key players will need to step up.”

“The Packers’/Steelers’ defense needs pressure Roethlisberger/Rodgers."  
“The team that can run the ball will win.”

“The team that executes all three phases of the game will win.”       

   Anchors pose contrived questions for “insiders” to answer.  Players and coaches refer to the “heart of a champion.”  Both say:

   “We are going to have to play 60 minutes.”

   “We need to take care of the ball.”

   “We have to tackle.”

   “We need to minimize mistakes.”

   “We must focus, not make mental errors.”

   As the game nears, pundits make their predictions.  Half say “The Steelers will win by three points” and half “The Packers by three.”  They claim “The Steelers’ or Packers defense or “The Steelers’ running game will secure the win” or “Aaron Rodgers will return to his earlier form to lead the Packers.”  All of them agree “The winning team must execute all three phases of the game.”  They are as good at guessing the outcome as we are.

   Reporters ask each coach if the distractions will affect his team’s preparation.  Each answers saying, “We’ve been through this before.  We have a preparation schedule and we are on it.”  When asked, “What are you doing to prepare for the opposing team?” each answers “We have to execute the fundamentals.  We’re focused on what got us here.”

   A day or two before the game, reporters ask the coaches about their teams’ preparation.  Both coaches respond, “They are focused.”  When asked, “How do you know?” each responds, “I see it in their eyes.”

   Just before the game a reporter asks each coach for his prediction.  One says, “It’s going to be a grid-iron war out there.”  The other answers, “We are going to have to play 60 minutes of error-free football.” 

   All that remains is the game and the final score.  If you miss that, you can get the score and highlights on ESPN.  All you miss is the angst and the commercials, which sometimes are the highlights.

   The game begins; the announcer tells us everything we heard before about every player, coach and trainer down to the water boy in the first two possessions of the game. The color men tell us everything about the schemes and adjustments of the opposing coordinators in the first two possessions and repeat it for the rest of the half.

   After the first half a young, beautiful woman, dressed to the nines, corners the rankled coach of the trailing team, reminds him of his team’s tribulations and asks, “What do you need to do in the second half.”  The coach responds with two of four statements:

“We need more intensity the second half.”

“We need to get our ground game going.”

“We need to tackle better.”

“We need to eliminate mistakes.”
 … And then he says,

“We had opportunities in the first half; we need to execute for the final 30 minutes.”

   Before the second half another young, beautiful woman “interviews” the coach of the leading team, applauds its successes and asks, “What do you need to do in the second half.”  The coach replies with two of four statements:

“We need to do what we have been doing.”

“We know they aren’t going to quit.”

“We need to keep running the ball.”

“We have to focus on what got us here.”

    … And then he says,

   “This game is played for 60 minutes.”

   After the game an announcer asks, “How did you win today?”  The winning coach extols the grit and valiant play of the opposing team.  He emphatically states,  “They came to play; it was a battle for 60 minutes.  They didn’t quit.  I have to credit their coaches for a great game plan.  My players played with the heart of a champion.”

   The MVP running back or quarterback of the winning team points to the sky, acknowledges God’s assistance, and gives all the credit to the lineman.  He says “We set our goals in pre-season.  We battled all year. I’m proud of these guys. They have the heart of a champion.”  Afterward, he is “caught” on camera telling the world he is going to Disneyland.

Postscript:

   Mid all the post-game hoop-la, un-filmed and virtually un-noticed, a small huddle of players gathers on their knees, gives thanks, and reminds themselves of what actually was significant over the previous two weeks.

   Enjoy the game and the commercials.

Fictionary: Xanderisms

On this 12^th of January, my grandson Xander’s birthday, I thought it appropriate

to add a few words to the Fictionary.  These are for you Alexander McCabe.

Word		Meaning
Xanalyze	v.	Think like Xander
RepliXan	n.	Xander’s clone
Xandroid	n.	Xander’s new phone or a robotic replixan
Xanagram	n.	Re-arranging letters of Xander’s name to make a new word as in Randex (Torn bike shorts)
Xanalogy	n.	Comparison with Xander (There is none.)
Xanamnesia	n.	Remembering how terrific a kid Xander is
Xanaerobic	adj.	The breathless condition of grandparents
Xanachronism	n.	Kid that belongs in any time in history
Xanartic	adj.	A cold day in Puyallup when Xander isn’t A+
Xanatomy	n.	The science of Xander
Xanchor	n.	Xander as a newscaster
Xanddad	n.	PaMike
Xancient	adj.	How older PaMike becomes on each of Xander’s birthdays
Xandes	n.	Mountains Xander has yet to climb
Xandrew	n.	A monkey’s uncle
Xangle	n.	The intersection of Xander and the future
Xanectote	n.	A story about Xander
Xanglo	n.	A skinny white kid raised by Doug & Alexa McCabe
Xanimal	n.	The Puyallup Kid
Xanimal cracker	v.	The Puyallup Kid making jokes
Xaunt	n.	Amy McCabe
Xanimosity	n.	Jealousy toward brainy kids
Xanime	n.	Cartoon about a superhero kid named Xander
Xannounce	v.	Xanspeak
Xantic	n.	Xander’s fooling around
Xantique	n.	A priceless kid
Xanybody	n.	Whoever he wants to be
Xanything	n.	Whatever he wants to become
Xanymore	n.	Nope
Xantidote	n.	The answer to a bad day
Xantedate	n.	Before January 12, 2000
Xanticipate	v.	Waiting for January 12, 2000
Xanidate	n.	January 12, 2000
Xanswer	n.	Response to Doug & Alexa’s prayers
Xanticlimatic	adj.	Everything after Xander McCabe
Xangel	n.	Xander McCabe

Jen's Story

A Grand Circle Story

Prologue

Phoenix, Arizona, 1993

Dear Jen,

What a great trip!  What a great time I had … we all had.  We were fortunate to be there.  We accomplished what we set out to do, serving the church community we visited and sharing the word of Christ.   We shared our lives through our words, our music and our deeds, and we touched the lives of many people.

As you might expect, I am not writing to you out of the blue; I have a story I want to share with you, an odyssey that occurred over the past two years.  You may not be aware of it, but you were a principal player in the story as was Drew.

Enough with the preliminaries, on with the story.

* * * * *

          Two years ago, before dawn on the first Saturday in June, I stood in a church parking lot in Phoenix and watched a young sophomore girl set off for Wyoming on a two-week mission trip.  Waves of heat lapped at our legs in the final vestige of the previous day’s baking.  The group was restless waiting for final packing, list checkers checking and re-checking lists; and parents, friends and kids hugging goodbye.  Pacing next to one of the vans, the young girl was visibly tense, not agitated, just not at peace.  I cannot remember if I even knew her at that time though surely we had met.  She was beyond quiet, almost withdrawn.

          There was a hubbub of final goodbyes, unprepared freshmen making last dashes to the soda machine for one more addition to the un-prescribed daily requirement of junk food, and good-natured jockeying for seating positions in the vans.  I watched a young man stride toward her.  He walked with the relaxed assurance of a new high school graduate.  I had followed his ascendance to manhood.

          He had accepted a scholarship to an out of state university.  He had played, worked, studied, followed, and lead.  He had grabbed the dragon’s tail and ridden it for six years.  His future was defined at least for that moment.  The young man had not slain the dragon; he had just befriended it.  The dragon had become his companion conquered by a primary weapon of the Christian warrior, friendship.  Cloaked in the armor of love, friendship had become his sword.

          As he neared, her senses perked, and she focused on his approach.  He reached out, as did she, and took her in his arms enveloping her in a warm, bodacious hug.  Her tension melted into the pavement to be reclaimed by the tides of summer.  He took her hand as they climbed into the van, and she nestled into the crook of his shoulder.  He stretched long, muscular legs attached at the ends by outsized feet onto an ice chest positioned between the two front seats.  He was established in the pecking order of the tribe; he was a senior assured prime seating

          Together with pillows, music, and gargantuan amounts of junk food, they awaited the leaving.  They knew they would have to pile back out of the van once more when the assembly gathered in prayer.  Okay with them, their position was established.

          They spent the two weeks together building on a relationship begun that year.   They walked hand in hand, laughed together, played Frisbee, and gave each other piggyback rides.  They lay together in the cool grass at a rest stop in Colorado. The pair for they were not a couple, joined hands in prayer each morning and evening, gave each other back rubs, and lay next to each other at night at the foot of the stairs in the church where they stayed.  That spot marked the demarcation between the sleeping quarters of the girls and that of the boys.

          It was two weeks of satisfying work, meditation, celebration, and all too many egg bake breakfasts.  Their friendship was trusting and patient, not saddled by jealousy and pettiness common to teens.  They had jobs of their own and responsibilities to the group.  During the day the group labored.  At night and on Sundays they drove to neighboring towns to perform the musical mostly in churches, and were paid with wonderful potluck dinners common to rural communities.  Throughout the trip they sought out each other and shared their time together.  They sang together at Red Rocks Amphitheatre and rode together in the van and on the roller coasters at Elich Gardens in Denver. 

          In the blink of a fortnight the young knight gave the gift of friendship to a saddened, timid maiden who at that time in her life desperately needed a friend.

* * * * *

          As you have guessed, Jen, you were the maiden and the knight was Andrew.  To have been on that trip was in itself a blessing to me.  To have witnessed those events was a gift, the value of which I can barely understand.  I will not soon forget upon our return the feeling of love and acceptance that welled in me as you hugged me so tightly after the final musical at our church.  Your love and friendship for Drew spilled over onto me.

         The story does not end there.  Nor may it ever for the final scene is yet been played.  A second chapter to the odyssey continued two years later.

         The retelling of this is more subject to my conjecture.  It was not until the trip was over that I gained awareness of what I had seen.  Did what I thought I saw actually take place, or is it just the prattling of an old man’s imagination?  Only you can determine the heroine status of the main character.

* * * * *

The scene unfolded in a manner reminiscent of the earlier chapter.  Thirty plus members of the Logos clan once again gathered in the church parking lot in west Phoenix.  They were fresh from the rigor of final exams and the pleasures of graduation.  Along with their advisors they prepared to wave goodbye to grateful parents and siblings joyous in the prospect of two peaceful weeks alone. 

The time-honored leaving protocols pre-staged another work trip.  It wasn’t as though they had not done this before.  The trip to Bishop, California, was called The Big Picture, the name of that year’s musical.  It was the latest in a history of work trips and musicals dating back seventeen years, longer than half of the group’s members.         

The former sophomore maiden of sixteen was a graduated senior of eighteen and accorded all the rights and privileges of her accomplishments and station.  This time she would be going off to college in the fall.  She was full of energy or as much as any teen can be at seven o’clock on a Saturday morning. 

          I took little notice of her that morning or for the first couple of days.  I rode out on the first leg in the equipment truck.  I was still recovering from being only one day removed from the school year, and concerned with what to do with my car.  The freshmen were better organized than I.

          Only after we arrived in Bishop did I become aware of her.  She was sharing a lot of time with a hyper sophomore making his second trip.  Again, the group was painting a church as well as rebuilding a porch, fixing ancient plumbing, and remodeling the pastor’s study.  After work each day the group drove into town to use the public showers, changed clothes, and headed off to perform.  Including performances while traveling, the group presented The Big Picture over twenty times. Throughout it all she and Tony sat together, walked together, talked, laughed, hugged, and just enjoyed each other’s company.  Together they rode in the van and on the rides at Magic Mountain.  It was déjà vu only this time she was sharing the gift of friendship.

          She was passing the gift to another, and he seemed but vaguely aware of the event.  Was she even aware of her actions?  It could not have been just a coincidence.  Was it the illusion of coincidence?  She took some flak from some of the others, girls in particular, and she and Tony were the subject of rumoring.  Given that circumstance, she must have been cognizant of her actions.  Only she can affirm or deny that.  The passing of the gift had made the grand circle.  It was a legacy of the senior will as real as handing down painted hats and torn boxer shorts.

          It had to be more than coincidence that for a number of years when Andrew returned to Phoenix, there were two women he made a point of visiting; she was one of them.  This circle of events is yet to close.  Tony’s future will determine the next chapter.

* * * * *

Epilogue

Jen,

You were party to a special gift, the gift of friendship, but an even greater gift was the act of love in sharing it with another.  You know as much about friendship and what being a friend means as anyone your age that I know.  You stuck by a girlfriend at times when no one else would.  You built relationships that last a lifetime.  You acted in the truest sense of Christian spirit.  You sowed seeds of joy that will mature and affect other’s lives for who knows how long.  It was my joy to share the experience. 

Journey on in the peace that I know you found,

        

Lovingly,

Michael