A few things tickling the grey matter this morning
1. How is it even possible to be a bad MAX light rail driver? It’s a train. Don’t you just basically go and stop? Here in Portland we have a fantastic public transportation system. The buses are clean and actually arrive on time and we have this great light rail train called MAX which stands for nothing because no useable word starts with X unless this is something like “Mobile Active Xylophones,” which I don’t think it is and therefore I conclude it stands for nothing and was named after the Mayor’s dog or something like that.
Anyway, MAX is great and I ride it at least 4 days a week to and from the office. However every once in a while, they allow the drivers to bring their 15 year old children to work to learn how to drive on a MAX train. I see no other explanation for the fact that while 8 out of 10 trips are smooth, the other two the whole trip is one extended lurch fest. FEATHER THE BRAKES for crying out loud. I actually wondered this morning if the driver had planted security cameras and was doing it on purpose to try to make people fall down for his own viewing pleasure. Like every second Thursday there is a bet among drivers to see how many riders they can slam to the floor by braking hard at inappropriate and unexpected moments?
It is a jarring way to start the day, let me tell you. I think Starbucks should use some of its endless resources to design a drink just to sooth passengers of poorly driven mass transit vehicles. I wouldn’t drink it of course because I loathe coffee, but it would be a nice public service I think.
2. On the plus side of my MAX ride was that I finally finished a song I’ve been trying to write. As I’ve mentioned in prior posts, I have begun writing songs that can be sung at my local Church congregation. My wife sings on our praise team and has a beautiful (breath taking at times) soprano voice. Since I started writing songs I have intended to write something with a solo part for her, but that seemed to add such pressure to the process I struggled and struggled to find something I liked that I could also hear her singing. Well, this morning on MAX apparently all the jarring starting and stopping shook something loose and it came together. Now I just need to find someone to arrange it for me for 4 part harmony. I don’t have those kind of musical chops. I have a couple very talented people who have helped me, but like most talented people they are also very busy people, so I’m going to have to find someone else I fear. Oh well, at least I like the song, even if it may not live up to her voice and may be years before anyone actually hears it.
3. The big news of the week was that Gibson’s school got hit with head lice. Thankfully, Gibson was spared. We sent him back to school yesterday not really sure whether we should or not. Getting head lice is not the end of the world of course, but it’s no picnic. We assumed that the kids who had it would be kept out of school until they got it cleared up, but two of the kids were back the next day yesterday. So, today we kept Gibson home. Gibson is in a small new private school with no formal protocols for such things. What happens in other schools? Public schools? When kids get lice, what’s the procedure? Are they kept at home? Do they burn the school down and bring in a hazmat team? Is it business as usual? Just by writing about this have I made it a much bigger deal than it actually is? One thing I know is that if Gibson gets them, he’s getting the “Michael Jordan” hair cut.
4. In the “Family Group” home Bible study my wife and I lead in our house every week, we had a fun discussion I thought I would start here as well. After watching the movie The Sentinel this weekend (with so many TV shows that look just like this movie, they have to eventually realize that they can’t just keep making this sort of movie don’t they? It wasn’t a bad movie, but it was nothing you couldn’t see on TV 3 or 4 times a week), several of us got to talking about what we would choose for our secret service nickname if we were elected President. The discussion actually got even better once we started trying to choose them for each other. Got any good suggestions for presidential nicknames for you or others? Today I’m leaning toward “Mr. Myagi” because who didn’t like Pat Morita? I mean, seriously, name one person.
5. If you will recall a couple blogs ago I mentioned how the smell of gasoline and sawdust always takes me back to my childhood and the times I spent out getting firewood with my Dad in British Columbia where I spent most of my earliest years. Well, I had another such moment earlier this week when my Mom sent home some of her famous chocolate chip cookies. I think I can legitimately call them famous since everyone that knows my family knows about the cookies and lots and lots of people know my family, so I think that counts. The cookies are simple chocolate chip cookies that are better than any food has any business being. They are just that good.
Like me, my Dad was and is a big Pepsi drinker (though now, sadly, we have both had to switch to diet) and so growing up there was always Pepsi in the house. There is something about the combination of drinking Pepsi and eating my Mom’s cookies that teleports me back in time when such a snack was a precious reward for a job well done or the perfect balm to soothe some aching wound suffered at the hand of a wayward bicycle on a gravel road. My Mom was and is someone who I believe could comfort anyone in any situation. At very least she could always comfort me. I remember when I was very young falling and splitting my head on our stone fire place. I had to get stitches and at least the way I remember it I got home well after bed time. But my Mom had promised me a cookie and my very own Pepsi (ordinarily I just got a few sips here and there of my Dad’s) if I was brave at the doctor’s office even though it would mean I went to bed late.
I’m sure I wasn’t brave. I don’t remember exactly, but I was no more brave at the doctor’s office then than I am now, which is to say, not at all. Nonetheless, my Mom came through with one of her magical cookies and a glass of Pepsi. With the legitimate concerns about childhood obesity and caffeine, I’m sure many parents today would wrinkle their nose or shake their head in judgment of my Mom’s approach, but not only did it make me feel better then, it gave me a lasting image of my Mom providing comfort. It was an image she would and does continue to reinforce, and was set in stone with something as simple as a cookie. Now every time I partake in this snack I’m reminded that while you can give them too many cookies and you certainly can spoil them with good intentions, you can’t really over love your kids. If you could, my Mom would have been the face of “over loved kid” syndrome.
Anyway, MAX is great and I ride it at least 4 days a week to and from the office. However every once in a while, they allow the drivers to bring their 15 year old children to work to learn how to drive on a MAX train. I see no other explanation for the fact that while 8 out of 10 trips are smooth, the other two the whole trip is one extended lurch fest. FEATHER THE BRAKES for crying out loud. I actually wondered this morning if the driver had planted security cameras and was doing it on purpose to try to make people fall down for his own viewing pleasure. Like every second Thursday there is a bet among drivers to see how many riders they can slam to the floor by braking hard at inappropriate and unexpected moments?
It is a jarring way to start the day, let me tell you. I think Starbucks should use some of its endless resources to design a drink just to sooth passengers of poorly driven mass transit vehicles. I wouldn’t drink it of course because I loathe coffee, but it would be a nice public service I think.
2. On the plus side of my MAX ride was that I finally finished a song I’ve been trying to write. As I’ve mentioned in prior posts, I have begun writing songs that can be sung at my local Church congregation. My wife sings on our praise team and has a beautiful (breath taking at times) soprano voice. Since I started writing songs I have intended to write something with a solo part for her, but that seemed to add such pressure to the process I struggled and struggled to find something I liked that I could also hear her singing. Well, this morning on MAX apparently all the jarring starting and stopping shook something loose and it came together. Now I just need to find someone to arrange it for me for 4 part harmony. I don’t have those kind of musical chops. I have a couple very talented people who have helped me, but like most talented people they are also very busy people, so I’m going to have to find someone else I fear. Oh well, at least I like the song, even if it may not live up to her voice and may be years before anyone actually hears it.
3. The big news of the week was that Gibson’s school got hit with head lice. Thankfully, Gibson was spared. We sent him back to school yesterday not really sure whether we should or not. Getting head lice is not the end of the world of course, but it’s no picnic. We assumed that the kids who had it would be kept out of school until they got it cleared up, but two of the kids were back the next day yesterday. So, today we kept Gibson home. Gibson is in a small new private school with no formal protocols for such things. What happens in other schools? Public schools? When kids get lice, what’s the procedure? Are they kept at home? Do they burn the school down and bring in a hazmat team? Is it business as usual? Just by writing about this have I made it a much bigger deal than it actually is? One thing I know is that if Gibson gets them, he’s getting the “Michael Jordan” hair cut.
4. In the “Family Group” home Bible study my wife and I lead in our house every week, we had a fun discussion I thought I would start here as well. After watching the movie The Sentinel this weekend (with so many TV shows that look just like this movie, they have to eventually realize that they can’t just keep making this sort of movie don’t they? It wasn’t a bad movie, but it was nothing you couldn’t see on TV 3 or 4 times a week), several of us got to talking about what we would choose for our secret service nickname if we were elected President. The discussion actually got even better once we started trying to choose them for each other. Got any good suggestions for presidential nicknames for you or others? Today I’m leaning toward “Mr. Myagi” because who didn’t like Pat Morita? I mean, seriously, name one person.
5. If you will recall a couple blogs ago I mentioned how the smell of gasoline and sawdust always takes me back to my childhood and the times I spent out getting firewood with my Dad in British Columbia where I spent most of my earliest years. Well, I had another such moment earlier this week when my Mom sent home some of her famous chocolate chip cookies. I think I can legitimately call them famous since everyone that knows my family knows about the cookies and lots and lots of people know my family, so I think that counts. The cookies are simple chocolate chip cookies that are better than any food has any business being. They are just that good.
Like me, my Dad was and is a big Pepsi drinker (though now, sadly, we have both had to switch to diet) and so growing up there was always Pepsi in the house. There is something about the combination of drinking Pepsi and eating my Mom’s cookies that teleports me back in time when such a snack was a precious reward for a job well done or the perfect balm to soothe some aching wound suffered at the hand of a wayward bicycle on a gravel road. My Mom was and is someone who I believe could comfort anyone in any situation. At very least she could always comfort me. I remember when I was very young falling and splitting my head on our stone fire place. I had to get stitches and at least the way I remember it I got home well after bed time. But my Mom had promised me a cookie and my very own Pepsi (ordinarily I just got a few sips here and there of my Dad’s) if I was brave at the doctor’s office even though it would mean I went to bed late.
I’m sure I wasn’t brave. I don’t remember exactly, but I was no more brave at the doctor’s office then than I am now, which is to say, not at all. Nonetheless, my Mom came through with one of her magical cookies and a glass of Pepsi. With the legitimate concerns about childhood obesity and caffeine, I’m sure many parents today would wrinkle their nose or shake their head in judgment of my Mom’s approach, but not only did it make me feel better then, it gave me a lasting image of my Mom providing comfort. It was an image she would and does continue to reinforce, and was set in stone with something as simple as a cookie. Now every time I partake in this snack I’m reminded that while you can give them too many cookies and you certainly can spoil them with good intentions, you can’t really over love your kids. If you could, my Mom would have been the face of “over loved kid” syndrome.
Comments
tanya does, indeed, have a beautiful singing voice...but then her talking voice isn't too shabby either.
and i have to say (so i get my 3 para. minimum)...i love the way you talk about your parents.
"what are we going to do today brain?"
"the same thing we do every day, pinky. take over the world."
2. Otis does some arranging, but is booked well through 2008. You couldn't afford him anyway.
3. Head lice: Can't live with 'em, CAN live without 'em.
4. Name given to me by Tomo, "American Mom."
5. I wish your Mom could tutor some of the Moms I encounter daily.
I'm not going to get into a whole thing here about who makes better cookies or any wife v. mother competition things as no good can come of that. I will just say this, after growing up enjoying my Mom's great cooking, I was blessed to mary a woman who with both talent and flare, satisfies my every culinary desire.
My point, is just that I'm a lucky guy. No one should be reading anything else in.
2. I wish we had someone in our congregation writing songs. What you’re doing for your church will personalizes your corporate worship. BTW – Heard this from Jerry Rushford – Did you know the old song, “When the Roll is Called up Yonder” was written by a school teacher who was reacting to one of his students passing away. The “roll” is the roll a teacher would call as class starts. I thought that was cool.
3. Ah, lice in a public school. At the first sign of the little buggars, said student is given a one way ticket to Beirut, Lebanon courtesy of “Parachute Airlines.” Actually, they’re sent home and not allowed to return until all the eggs are gone.
4. I like “Mr. Myagi” for a presidential code name but the ex-Green Beret / Master of the Thug “Do-jo” wouldn’t.
5. You memory of “Mom” put a smile on my face and a hunger in my belly.
Alright, them's fightin' words.
I took it easy on you on your home court and all, but next time bring your A game and don't go complaining about how I shredded your knee or stuff like that.
It's H-O-R-S-E...
...to the death.
Candace and I *gladly* parted with a hefty % of our checking account for 3 dozen of them.
And as for comfort... Those cookies were smuggled into the hospital to celebrate the delivery of my daughter Sydney. Yes, we shared with our nursing staff. No, we did not share with friends and family visiting Sydney. (Sorry friends and family, we had to set our priorities.)
Thanks for bringing up a great memory Josh (LOVE those cookies)!
Patrick
BTW - Major blog infraction... you cannot bring up head lice and chocolate chip cookies during the same blog. Blech!
Hope all is well for you up in the Northwest.
Shalom,
Bobby Valentine