I have a neighbor who . . .

Yesterday I was talking about the beauty of the English language. Today’s topic gives me the opportunity to share another example.

Our former duplex neighbors were a retired couple, Barb and Carl. Carl was an ex-Vietnam vet and former Illinois state trooper. A real no-nonsense kind of guy. He spent most of his waking hours listening to talk radio in his garage and smoking like a chimney, and I would often pull up from work and stop to have a chat.

As Carl spent his days outside, we often spoke of the weather. On this particular occasion we were a few weeks into a spring that began wet and dreary, and we’d finally hit upon a day of beautiful, crisp weather. After an extended discussion on politics, I brought up the weather with Carl.

“It’s a beautiful day,” I said. Carl had been worked up until then. But his shoulders relaxed, his eyes got dreamy, and he took a hit of his smoke.

“You got that right,” Carl said wistfully. “It finally smells like f—ing spring.”

. . . And on that note, it’s time to say goodbye to National Blog Posting Month. Thanks to the rest of the posting gang for the inspiration and daily topics. And thanks to all of my old and new readers. Stick around! Comments are welcome! I’m sure Ryan will continue to give me plenty of things to post about.

My three favorite words

I admire people who speak more than one language, since it’s so hard to master just one. What I love about the English language is it has so many ways to say things better: a quagmire instead of a mess; excruciating instead of painful; vivacious instead of lively.

But even so, some of my favorite words are the simplest:

Faith – because you can’t live without it.

Home – the best place to be.

Progress – because change is incremental, not a giant leap.

So until teenagers and texting decimate English, here’s to the beauty of language.

Immunity or immortality

After six hours of Christmas shopping, I don’t have the energy to ponder today’s topic.

But if you were immune, wouldn’t you be immune to death, and therefore immortal too? So that sounds like a better deal to me. Although I’d rather die and (hopefully) go to heaven than be stuck down here for eternity.

So actually, I’d choose neither.

A shout-out to Mrs. Miller

Today’s National Blog Month topic is, who was your biggest influence growing up, and why? I’m going to forgo talking about my awesome parents, my natural #1 choice, to give props to Mrs. Miller.

Mrs. Miller was the only teacher I had whose reputation preceded her. It was the summer of 1982, and my best friend James and I were huddled in his bedroom discussing our homeroom assignments. Instead of being excited that I would finally be an eighth grader, I was fidgeting as James regaled me with tales of the new teacher in town.

“She only wears black, and she never smiles. They call her the Dragon Lady.”

It took some doing to be the most feared teacher in a faculty loaded with nuns, but Mrs. Miller had accomplished the task entirely sight unseen. And her first day did not disappoint. She was prim and proper, with glasses to match, and scared the whole class straight. What set the tone best? Probably when she said, “and don’t bleed on my carpet.”

It wasn’t until later that we appreciated the genius of what Mrs. Miller had done. By breathing fire, the Dragon Lady established she had teeth, while giving herself the latitude to gradually reveal she was . . . nice.

Mrs. Miller was smart enough to realize we were young and impressionable, and that canned lesson plans were not the best way to reach a 14 year old. So she taught us how to outline by helping us plot a bank robbery. She earned the respect of the rabble rousers she dubbed The Infamous Five. She admonished us to live by her catchphrase, “you must rise above.”

I learned more grammar from Mrs. Miller than in eight years of high school and college. And she taught me as much about character as she did about nouns and verbs. She also served as an unfortunate lesson in disillusionment.

You’d think Mrs. Miller would have been recognized with a Teacher of the Year award. Instead, she left St. Mary’s a few years after I did. I’m guessing she was a bit too much of a noncomformist for them. Whatever the circumstances, it was a hard lesson for me. I thought excellence was rewarded. And that the powers that be weren’t morons.

If I was still a student and Mrs. Miller was being forced out, I would have stood up on my desk for her, like those kids defending their shafted teacher in Dead Poet’s Society.

After all, Mrs. Miller always said “you have to rise above.”

Thankful

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Checkup time

It was Ryan’s nine-month checkup today, and his first one without shots. But that didn’t stop him from bursting into tears in the examining room. He doesn’t have the fondest memories of the doctor’s office.

He defied the odds by losing weight compared to his six-month checkup. The doctor assured us that’s normal now that he’s crawling and burning the calories. I guess he was a bit of a slug for most of that first six months.

His official stats: 30 inches tall and 22.5 pounds. Another fine checkup. We celebrated with formula and a pizza. 

Next up: his one year visit! He might run out of the office by then.

Help bring back a classic children’s book!

Today we’re supposed to blog about our favorite writers, so I’d like to talk about Jolly Roger Bradfield. I’m confident that you never heard of him, which is a shame. He wrote and drew one of my favorite books, Benjamin Dilley’s Thirsty Camel, as well as several other children’s books.

In my mind this guy should have been up there with Dr. Seuss and H.A. Rey (Curious George), but sadly his work has been largely lost to obscurity and the out of print department.

But hurray! a small boutique press named Purple House Press has obtained the rights to Jolly Roger’s library, and has already republished Pickle Chiffon Pie and The Flying Hockey Stick (both highly recommended!)

I contacted Purple House Press and asked/begged to have Benjamin Dilley’s Thirsty Camel reprinted next. I was told that the likelihood of this happening would depend on (a) the market and (b) more people like me asking for it to happen.

So, how about helping to give Jolly Roger Bradfield his due? Pick up a copy of Pickle Chiffon Pie and The Flying Hockey Stick, and send an email to phpress@att.net asking, nay, demanding that Benjamin Dilley makes its proud return next.

Trust me, you’ll thank me for it.

Panic

I stayed home sick today with Ryan, who was a little congested himself. We spent the day lounging around in our sweats, except for an emergency grocery store run. Gina raised the alarm that she had broken the seal on our last roll of toilet paper, and there was no way it was going to make it all the way to payday on Friday. Gina’s willing to scrimp for the sake of our budget, but there’s some things you just can’t ration.

As Boo and I drove the couple of minutes to the grocery store, my cell rang. It was Gina in another state of distress. She was fighting a massive headache. She’s trying to wean herself off of caffeine, and the battle is not going well. I tried to console her the best that I could, while Ryan sent her a text:

Hi Mommy,

This is Ryan. Daddy taught me how to type today. I hope your headache is ok. I wanted to bring you a baba of Diet Pepsi but daddy said that was a bad idea. I’ll let you snuggle with Pooh Bear if you want. I love you mommy!

Boo

P.S. I don’t want to take a nap right now.

Ryan’s also figured out how to turn on the TV. I better keep him away from our computer before he orders a flat screen.

What I’m most passionate about

If I had a . . .

Who hasn’t thought about what they’d do if they had a time machine? You might think the first thing you’d try to do is go back and change the past, but we sci-fi geeks know that all you’d do is create an alternate time line. So, while Alternate Time Line Moose might appreciate my telling him to buy Microsoft stock, the real me would still be sitting here listing comic books on ebay. Blast you, time travel paradox!

But I have a better idea. If I had a time machine, I would go back to 1999 and stop by my local Kinko’s. Yes, I know most time traveler’s first stops wouldn’t be to make some copies, but behind the counter would be a lovely young print consultant named Gina. I’d place some bogus order just for the chance to talk to her, and get an idea of what my wife was like before we’d even met.

How cool would that be?