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Wow. It’s been almost six months since I started writing (and yes, blogging). I remember when six months seemed like a long time. Now — snap, blink, zoom — it’s summer.
I suppose that’s true of any block of time once it falls behind you. Even a good long run, glimpsed over the shoulder, is a short life. Still, it bothers me. I get aging. Maturity. Experience. I get that. Makes sense. But death? What a stupid way to end life. Yeah, yeah, I know about the circle, eternal energy, returning to the source, heaven, reincarnation, all the scientific, natural, and spiritual reasons to recycle these borrowed atoms. But seriously, who wants to end their life by dying? Be honest now. Even if you believe in heaven of some sort, which I do, wouldn’t you still miss this place, this life? Even if you know you’re stepping into another room, wouldn’t you hesitate in the doorway? Maybe Thich Nhat Hanh is right: the only immortality we can be sure about is right now. The present moment. When I’m fully present, right here, right now, I feel eternal. Time passes slowly, the way time passes for evergreen elves in fairy tales. I’m not afraid of death. Not hurt by the past or scared by the future. When I am here, I am immortal. Gotta say, I feel better now. Writing myself down picks me up. I’ll never figure this all out, but it’s fun trying. Comments 
Media Jean: Sounds like you’re dad is on one of his “Death is stupid” kicks. 
Chip: Yeah. He’s been losing a lot of sleep. I’ll wake up to get a drink of water and he’s sitting on the porch, looking at the stars.
Media Jean: Poor guy. What started it this time?
Chip: I think he feels life passing him by. He’s in his 40s and hasn’t achieved any of his big dreams.
Media Jean: I didn’t know your dad had big dreams.
Chip: Parents are funny that way. You think they’re just fine, then you find out they have all these secret dreams. It’s kind of weird, actually.
Media Jean: What kind of dreams?
Chip: Well, he wants to be a singer-songwriter.
Media Jean: You’re kidding?
Chip: You know, like Bob Dylan.
Media Jean: But your dad doesn’t like being in front of people.
Chip: I guess that’s what makes it a dream. It’s too bad, because he has a pretty good voice. And some of the songs he makes up in the shower are really good.
Media Jean: In the shower?!
Chip: Sometimes I listen outside the door. When I tell him, “You’re good,” he always says, “Yeah, shower good.”
Media Jean: Hmm. Hey, maybe he just needs proof!
Chip: What kind of proof?
Media Jean: Let’s set up a hidden video camera. Record him singing in the shower.
Chip: I don’t know…
Media Jean: A spy cam. From the shoulders up. Nothing embarrassing. We’ll post it on YouTube!
Chip: Well, he is really good.
Media Jean: Look, he dreams of being a singer, right? He just needs a little push onto the stage. What does he have to lose?
Chip: Whenever we ask that question about grown-ups, the answer is always, “More than you think.”
Media Jean: Oh, grown-ups take themselves too seriously! What’s that thing Thoreau said about dreams? He’s your dad’s favorite writer, isn’t he?
Chip: Something about advancing in the direction of your dreams…
Media Jean: Right! “If one advances ridiculously in the direction of one’s dreams, good things are bound to happen eventually.”
Chip: I don’t think that’s it.
Media Jean: Close enough. So… what do you say?
Chip: Let’s do it!
Media Jean: Great! I’ll come over and help you set up the spy cam.
Chip: I bet he’ll even thank us for this one day.
Media Jean: You bet! The best way to get over death is to get on with life, that’s what I say.
Chip: You sound a little like Thoreau yourself.
Media Jean: Ha! Now there’s a guy I’d like to catch singing in the shower! The old sour puss!
Chip: Ha ha! Thoreau singing in the shower at Walden Pond!
Have a thought for Bob? Write to us at [email protected]
When I was younger, I spent December stacking resolution upon resolution, Yertle the Turtle of Good Intentions, gazing into the new year at what I thought would become the new me.
Resolutions were emotionally resolute, but in terms of practicality, they were no better than predictions. Making a New Year’s resolution was more like gambling than work. Black Jack Self Development, Who I Want To Be playing against the House of Who I Am. Sure, I might win a few hands. Might even get a hot streak. But sooner or later, the House always wins. My resolutions always left me feeling bankrupt. So now, I don’t make resolutions about the future. I make course corrections to the present. I don’t stand in December and look for little worm holes of self-improvement to transport me into January. Instead, I cruise along the highway of December, cross the state line into January, make adjustments to my internal GPS, and just keep on truckin’ into February. Here are my latest course corrections:
Not a “resolution” in the bunch. Just simple course corrections, on-the-road activities to add variety and joy to this good long ride. Comments
Media Jean: I don’t get adults. Why are they so big on resolutions, promises and rules? Can’t they just be happy?
Chip: They do make it kinda hard on themselves.
Media Jean: Them?! I’m talking about us!
Chip: What do you mean?
Media Jean: They’re always trying to change us! They can’t let anything go! Leave socks on the floor, forget to make the bed, walk on the couch, make too much noise, use a rude word, you name it—and BAM!—they pounce on you!
Chip: It does get annoying sometimes.
Media Jean: Sometimes?! For kids, every day is New Year’s Day and adults pile on the their resolutions! Be more polite! Clean your room! Brush your teeth! Don’t put your feet on furniture! Get more sleep! Wake up on time!
Chip: Do homework first. Eat less junk food. Eat more vegetables. Play less video games. Read more books.
Media Jean: Kids don’t need New Year’s resolutions. We have New Year’s Nags and they last all year long!
Chip: And they’re not even new.
Media Jean: That’s true! I’d love to hear something really new from a grown-up. Like, “Eat dessert first in case you get full.”
Chip: Or, “Plant vegetables like flowers: to look at, not eat.”
Media Jean: “Don’t take anything I say too seriously: consider the source.”
Chip: “It’s too quiet in here, make some noise.”
Media Jean: “It’s too neat in here, make a mess.”
Chip: “Sometimes it’s OK to pick your nose.”
Media Jean: Wouldn’t it be great if we could make New Year’s resolutions for grown-ups?
Chip: Maybe we should.
Media Jean: Let’s meet at the park and start a list!
Chip: It’ll be a long list.
Media Jean: I got time.
Chip: Me, too. See you there!! 
Comic strip from the series "The Homework Protest"
(Kid, Inc. Volume 1: Look Out, Tomorrow, Here We Come!) Have a thought for Bob? Write to us at [email protected]
Chip has been carrying a book everywhere he goes.
That got my attention. He hauls entire libraries on his cell phone and Kindle, but one physical book? I tried to remember the last time he carried an actual book. I think it was, Brown Bear, Brown Bear. The book turned out to be, The Truth about Santa: Wormholes, Robots, and What Really Happens on Christmas Eve, by Gregory Mone. I read a few pages and couldn’t put it down. Mone sets out to prove, scientifically, that Santa is real. I figured Chip was reading it for the same reasons: it’s a smart and funny spoof on the whole Santa myth. But that night, as I tucked him into bed, our conversation took an unexpected turn. CHIP: Dad, do you believe in Santa Claus? I mean, really believe? ME: Well, uh... CHIP: I think I believe in Santa. Almost everything he does is theoretically possible. ME: I don’t know... CHIP: Santa probably isn’t true. But I like the idea. It makes me feel better about things. ME: OK, but-- CHIP: Say there’s a 99% chance something isn’t true. Is it wrong to hold on to that 1%? ME: That’s kinda tricky-- CHIP: But what if that 1% is really, really great? What if it made you feel braver, or kinder, or happier? Shouldn’t you believe it then? I mean, there’s still a 1% chance that it’s true, right? By this time, I was lost. What was the best answer here? I needed time to think! So I took the Parent’s Prerogative: I stalled. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” I said, which as all parents know is code for, “I don’t know the answer.” I tucked him in, read, The Twelve Bots of Christmas, kissed him goodnight, and got out of there before he could pile anything else on. Sometimes, as a parent, you just have to retreat until you’re ready. Comments
Media Jean: Parents have a code??
Chip: So all those times my dad said, “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he really meant, “I don’t know.”
Media Jean: This is our Rosetta Stone! Now we can decipher all of their hidden messages!
Chip: Like, “We’ll see.” That’s parent code for, “I already decided and the answer is No.”
Media Jean: Ha ha! “Time for bed” is code for, “I need a break from my kids!”
Chip: “I’m the parent” = “Do as I say, not as I do.”
Media Jean: “This hurts me more than it does you” = “I don’t know what else to do!”
Chip: “You don’t always get what you want in life” = “I never get what I want in life.”
Media Jean: “I’m not going to ask you again” = “I’m going to keep on asking until you give up and do as I say.”
Chip: This is fun.
Media Jean: Yeah! Let’s turn this into a card game. We’ll call it, The Parent Code: A Game for Over-Parented Kids. It’ll be a classic, right up there with Uno and Go Fish!
Chip: I’d buy one.
Media Jean: Heck, what kid wouldn’t? We’ll sell a million copies! 
Comic strip from the series "Santa's Wormhole-Powered Sleigh"
(Kid, Inc. Volume 1: Look Out, Tomorrow, Here We Come!) Have a thought for Bob? Write to us at [email protected]
Darndest thing happened last night.
Chip said he wanted to read me a bedtime story. He looked so sincere, what could I say? So last night, he was the father and I was the son. He watched as I flossed and brushed, and waited while I settled under the blankets, finding my spot. He sat on the edge of the bed, took out a couple sheets of printer paper, announced, When Death Comes, by Mary Oliver, and started to read in his small voice: When death comes... I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness? When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms. When it is over, I don’t want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular, and real. I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument. I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.* Then he made me close my eyes and listen as he read it again. Next thing I knew, dawn was on the curtains. I had slept the night through. I woke rested and calm and at peace. How did that happen? After all my sleepless nights, all my metaphysical strike outs, one little poem read by my son changes everything. Go figure. Maybe you need more than prayer and philosophy when facing Death. Those are the basics, good in most situations. But sometimes prayers bounce back. Sometimes philosophy rings hollow. Sometimes you need something else. Maybe a joke, or a battle cry, music or a poem. Some other kind of reminder spoken in someone else’s voice. A whisper not your own. A whisper to live, live, live, because when you lease all the rooms of your mind to Life, there’s no vacancy for Death. When you wrap both your arms around the waist of Living, Dying can’t get close to your heart. Here’s to you, Life. * From When Death Comes, by Mary Oliver, from New and Selected Poems (Beacon Press). Comments
Media Jean: Wow, he got a lot more out of that poem than I did.
Chip: Yeah. I’m not even sure what it’s about. I just found it online and it sounded kinda comforting.
Media Jean: You know he’s gonna ask you about it.
Chip: Yeah. He’ll want to know what I think the poem means.
Media Jean: Well, what do you think it means?
Chip: I’m not sure. I like “cottage of darkness.” That doesn’t sound scary at all.
Media Jean: I think it means don’t capitalize Death.
Chip: Ha ha! Lower case death. That makes me think of the Grim Reaper wearing short pants.
Media Jean: It’s like Voldemort in Harry Potter. Wizards calling him “You Know Who” and “He Who Must Not Be Named.” Give me a break! That just made everyone more afraid of him. Harry and Dumbledore had the right idea.
Chip: My dad likes Harry Potter.
Media Jean: Tell him to stand up to death the way Harry stood up to ol’ Snake Face. Stand up for life and love and friendship and truth and all that jazz.
Chip: All that jazz. That’s funny.
Media Jean: Maybe we should get him one of those Harry Potter wand remotes, so every time he watches TV he’ll feel like a wizard.
Chip: Ha ha! That’s a great idea! 
Comic strip from the series "Bedtime Stories"
(Kid, Inc. Volume 1: Look Out, Tomorrow, Here We Come!) Have a thought for Bob? Write to us at [email protected] |
AuthorHey, I'm Bob, and I hate technology. So why am I blogging? Because I love my son. He upgraded my typewriter to wirelessly post every keystroke online. It makes him happy, so here I am. Archives
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