What Ever Happened to...Me?

This is funny, to me. It's not that I forgot that this blog existed, but... It's not that there aren't any other "Dads" out there... It's not that Dads aren't interested in what other Dads have to say... It's just that this Dad has been distracted. Or, maybe it's more that all Dads are doing other things and apparently not too interested in this...hahahahahahahahaha But here's what just happened. I'm working on a story and I'm anxious to find an image of "Neenies Famous Weenies" restaurant at PCH and Sunset Blvd. so I search via Google and discover there is a song titled under this name, but in the Google IMAGES section I scroll through several photos of folks from Topanga Beach and low and behold there is a photo of me. A "selfie" taken in Sausalito 5 years ago when I started the blog. hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Lunacy

No sleep.
Middle of the night reading.
Tired eyes.
Fritz the dachsund stretched out on his back with his paws wrapped over the top of the sheets. WTH?
Arrived at school to the news that a friend's son has been killed in a traffic accident.
To imagine the calamity in their life. Distraught. Sadness.
This whole day seemed catterwunky, out of sorts.
The moon is pulling the tide into negative numbers and it's not even full, yet.
Lunatics are everywhere.
The alternator goes loony. How long can a van run on its battery? About four miles, today.
Vehicles cost upwards of what a good house used to cost, and the alternator goes out as I drive toward school; where can I pull over safely? Where do I hide? AAA.
I call on my cell phone and that's all they need. They know who I am, "Hi, Mister Fitzpatrick, thank you for your 37 years of membership, how can I help you?" "Uh..." They have my membership number, and she can even triangulate where I am! When the tow truck guy arrives he has everything he needs, "Oh, I've got all your info in the computer, man. You're all good." "Uh..."
It's lunacy. I didn't even say anything and he's hooking up the front end to the 15 passenger van and we're off and I still haven't said anything. He even knows where we're going. "Uh..."
Loony loony loony.
Looney Tunes, there's an app we need, right now.

Worst Job

John Long shared Larry Schaeffer's notion of discussing 'your worst job' as a way of cutting through shop talk.
We used it at dinner when we were in Jacksonville, Florida, at a brewing company, in the beer parlor area, where the food might have been less than expected, but in the end our time was well spent because of the worst jobs discussed.
It turns out Jeff and John had both been to Kodiak Island in Alaska, at different times, and John's worst job may have outweighed, or out smelled the others.
Laura. Frances. Minnie. Frances laughing about her dental/orthodontist assistant role of snipping the wires on kids' braces, and often times lacerating their gum tissue, too.
My own experience working at Neenie's Famous Weenies; serving up burgers and dogs from the little trailer at Castle Rock across from Mike Todd's beach house just north of Sunset Blvd. Serving up free food to the beautiful ladies hanging around the back door of the trailer. Major distractions were involved.
The things we've done.
The worst jobs that help temper our steel, and create a more appreciative self.
Visitor to the school last week said, "Man, you really love what you do..."
I do.
Worst to best.
What else can we ask for?
It's the best.

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthdays.
Turns out birthday celebrations are important in all cultures.
In Brazil the goal is to chase away evil...for the Masai the entire culture is passed along in song, dance, and ritual, but first the adolescent boys are painted white and learn how to become warriors.
Whereas, Irish children are bounced by their "da" upon their heads, a celebration kept alive into adulthood in local pubs.
In Vietnam the whole celebration has been 'nationalized'--everyone celebrates their birth on Tet, New Year's Day. Every child receives a red envelope on New Year's with "lucky" money or coins inside; they're congratulated on living another year. All of which means, of course, there's no keeping track of your children's birthdays, nor your wife's, or mother's. There's one birthday, and that one birthday is yours and everyone else's, too.
Simple. As in not complicated.
My life, at times, becomes complicated. I make choices, I forget, and accordingly my life is not simple.
Tomorrow is my wife's birthday, and I've learned over the years that life is not simple if this day is forgotten. In fact, I have discovered, forgetting your wife's birthday makes life incredibly complicated.
Forgetting where you put the keys is inconvenient. Forgetting someone's name might be awkward.
Forgetting your wife's birthday makes life incredibly complicated. Your life, her life. Everyone's.
It's true, this exercise, here and now, is an effort on my part to not forget.
Thank you, for your help in my remembering.
Happy Birthday, Frances.

Parent Timeline...

Our first child had her birthday on Saturday.
We all sat together, with her husband and their two boys, to celebrate the day of her birth, 37 years ago.
Different city.
Different time, for sure.
Who was I 37 years ago?
"Wait! What?!? You're going to be 37! You can't be 37! If you're 37, that means I'm old!"
No response, although later in that dinner conversation the subject of age came up, again, and a reference to someone else being 60 put them in an older category than mine. I was reassured with the impression that she doesn't think I'm old, either, yet.
37 years ago we had wandered around the University of San Francisco hospital hoping to jumpstart, or restart, the whole dilation process.
10cm. That's the goal, right? You Montessorians know 10cm is the diameter of the circle in the classroom material. Before the hospital the 'water' had wet us in the middle of the night...'What the....?" "It's time," and it was sort of like the rehearsals we hadn't really practiced. We actually had a 'hospital bag,' but we had to leave Simba, our dog, behind...he wasn't thrilled.
Frances was 4cm at check in. "OK..."
But she was 4cm four hours later, and still at 4cm eight hours later...'go for a walk? Again?'
37 years ago, and it's like right now. Vivid memories.
The med students bumping into each other in the doorway; the doc comes in and asks, 'How long as she been at this?" as he glanced at the chart...he looked up at the eager but exhausted students, waiting. "Let's," he hesitated, and then lowered his voice, "step ouside." And he scooped up his students with arms extended and ushered them into the hall. Frances asked for some more ice, "What are they doing?" "I think they're finding out what they should have been doing."
Within minutes the whole scene changed...with quiet assurance from the doc we were heading down the hallway and he leaned toward Frances saying, "You've been working really hard, and we're going into surgery right now and I'm going to help you deliver this baby, so hold on a few more minutes...everything is going to be fine."
And that's what happened.
37 years ago.

Heart Felt

Looked at my heart today.
Man oh man. 3-D imaging, sonar, stress test, sitting test, the whole package of what amazing people can do for you. Have you seen the new 3-D X-Ray imaging technology? Wow.
Atrial Fibrillation. It's what I've got.
That's what the experts call my irregular heartbeat. Atrial Fibrillation.
Why is it irregular? Why is my heart not beating like it usually does?
Likely the same viral infection that caused a stomach full of ulcers three weeks ago has also triggered the electronic reaction in my heart. Did I pick it up in the ocean. Could have, but this type of virus is EVERYWHERE.
How about you, how do you feel? What are you doing for your heart, today?
"Oh, yeah, I feel fine."
Dads.
Do you feel fine, really?
Come on dads. They're looking up at you, now. They need to be able to look up to you for a long time, dads.
Your children.
Your family.
They need your health. They need your healthy diet, your healthy choices. They need your heart to be healthy, dads.
We're looking at my heart today, the doc and I, and the doc says, "Your heart is healthy, you have the heart of a young man."
Damn right.
Now, if we can just get it to stop fibrillating!
Blood thinners for two weeks, and then it's the 'paddles.' "CLEAR!" WHAM!
Here's to your healthy hearts, dads.

Do You Like What You Do?

I met this guy this morning and he says to me, "You like what you do!"
"I do," was my response. (I says to him).
"That's great, it's great to meet someone who likes what they do."
"Well, thanks..."
"I mean, it reminds me that I could like what I do, I mean, your's is a good message."
"OK."
"You said, a few times, 'I get to do this,' that's great, because I'm always thinking, 'I have to do this,' but you've reminded me that it's really that I 'get to do it' more than 'I have to do it.' I need to remember that."
"Well, good..."
"Yeah it is, it's great, thank you...thank you for reminding me, your outlook is really healthy."
"You're welcome."
He glanced at his wife, asking, "Don't you think?" and she replied, "Yes, I do, I think it is healthy, it's what we've been talking about."
So, I said, "Well, I like my wife, so it's great that we get to work together, too."
They both laughed, and he said, "Well, I like my wife, too." He glanced in her direction and she looked up and they smiled at each other. He looked back at me, "Thank you," he added, "It's been great to meet you," and I responded, "Thank you, it's been great to meet both of you, too."
They wished me a great day, "Have a great day," and I said, "You're making that a possibility."
These things happen, I swear. I'm not making this stuff up.