So as my son grows, I am noticing several new things about him each passing day.  Most of these are the usual things you notice about a child.  Picking up new habits, showing interest in things and wanting to know what they are.  Seeing his reflection in a mirror and knowing that he is looking at himself.

Then there are the things that one does not expect from a 15 month old.  Like the fact that he seems to be turning into quite the lady’s man.   Or at least he is developing a strong interest in the women he sees.   Maybe a little too strong an interest.

You  see, this all started several months ago when I went to a friend’s house for his son’s birthday party.  Naty, Gideon and Myself were invited to the party and so, well,  we went.  The host of this party has, in addition to the son whose party we were attending, has a daughter and at this party she was wearing a bathing suit.

I was not aware of the suit until Gideon, my THEN six-month-old son, about broke his neck to watch something going on behind me.  So I turned around so that he could get a better look at whatever it was that he saw.   And what he saw was Dave’s daughter in her bathing suit, and he proceeded to watch her until she was gone, and even then you could tell he wanted to follow her.

Fast forward several months to two weeks ago.  We were taking Gideon on a little early evening walk around the Marketplace, a small outdoor mall near where we live, because Gids LOVES the fountain there.  As we were walking around the fountain for about the thirtieth time, three girls, maybe in their late teens, if that, walking into the area where the fountain was.

Gideon, seeing them, broke his orbit around the fountain and headed right for them.  He then plowed right into the middle of their little group and announced himself and looked at them all.   It was like he was saying; “Hello ladies, here I am!”

The girls were all taken by his cuteness and talked to him and played to his inflated ego, and this is when he did the next thing that startled me.  He walked up behind one of the girls and put his hand on her butt.  If she noticed, she did not let it on… after all, he is just a baby, right?

He spent a couple minutes yammering at them and squealing here and there, with an occasional laugh thrown in for good measure.  Then when it came time for them to leave, he walked up to one of the other girls, who was wearing a rather short pair of shorts, and proceeded to pat her bottom as well.

I cannot help but wonder where he get this Casanova streak.  People have said, when I tell this this story, that he is growing up to be like his daddy.  Not quite… my talents when it comes to the ladies have always been in need.   When I was dating I was about as suave as an epileptic orangutan with hiccups.

So the consensus in our house is this. If Gids keeps up this streak, by the time he is in High School, we are going to have build some database to keep track of his girlfriends, because he is probably going to have plenty of them.  He appears to be well on his way to becoming a little Casanova Heart-breaker.

Where is nowhere?

Seriously, I think that if mankind ever want to truly achieve something remarkable, we need to pull together the help of all the scientists in the world to research where this place is and find a way to open it up to the world.

My reason for talking about such an abstract thought as nowhere is because of the career path I have chosen.   No, not computers, though I would have to say that many of the people I have helped over the years have a better chance of finding nowhere than they have of learning how to use the computers that they own or that they are set in front of.

My reasons for this topic are because of one of the comments that many people hear in the insurance industry when speaking to a person that has just had an accident.

“[it / he / she / they] came out of nowhere!”

For example… one slightly drizzly morning, I was heading to work and I had the unfortunate pleasure of being witness to an accident.   A small green Honda was traveling a little too fast for the conditions and ran into the rear of a full-sized school bus.   Not a short bus, not a camouflaged bus, not a bus from the local military reserve that had some super-secret stealth technology.   It was just a bright, school-bus yellow, school bus.

Because I witnessed the accident and because I am a nice guy like that, I stuck around and waited for the police to arrive.  The driver of the car was not badly hurt, just a bit shaken.  And needless to say, the driver of the bus barely noticed anything and seemed mildly annoyed at having to wait around for the police.   To be honest, I am not sure who called the police, or why, but they were called.

In time, a police technician showed up, as did an ambulance, fire truck and an off-duty Sheriff’s officer, though he seemed more interested in the female police technician than in the accident, and a small VW bug with about ten clowns in it (OK.. I made up the part about the VW.)  But the gang was all there and talking to the bus driver and the driver of the car.   It was not until the tow truck showed up that things got interesting, and helped to spawn this topic.

When the tow truck driver was talking to the guy driving the car, he made the mistake of asking him what happened.   Among other comments about the weather, the fact that somehow the road what not laid down correctly and I am sure there may have been something in his excuse about the alignment of the stars and maybe Jupiter was rising in Virgo… he said, “I don’t know! That bus came out of nowhere, man!”

Thus came to be my interest in nowhere.   This magical, mystical place that seems to house bright yellow buses, trees, dogs, cats (well, cats I have to excuse, if there is any creature that knows about dimensional doorways into someplace as elusive as nowhere, then a cat would be it.) Fire hydrants, other cars, houses, etc…  Wherever this nowhere place is, it must look like a Costco or Wal-Mart on the inside.

Personally I see a large warehouse style building.   There are bays, bays that look like what you would see in a large scale auto repair center, but these bays are stocked with trees, cars, cats, dogs, other people (usually the elderly or infirm), school buses, garbage trucks, taxis, etc…   miles of bays like this lined up.   At each bay there is a person working at a terminal… waiting.   Then, suddenly his terminal lights up, and there is a countdown.  Lights flash, sirens sound and he (or she, as I am sure that it would be a EEOC employer) pulls a lever.   There is a rush, a dimensional portal opens and whatever stations that person is called upon to man, send their wares out to the predetermined location.

Meanwhile, in a small suburban community, a teenage driver, only have had his learner’s permit for a couple weeks, hits a train that…  “…came out of nowhere.”

If you came to upon this article expecting to discover the secrets of building the better fireplace or retaining wall… you have come the wrong way.

This is my attempt to counter the all the folks out there that are self-professed experts on Masonry, meaning those of us who practice the ancient art of Freemasonry.  People like me that grew up with it as a part of our lives and embrace it’s teachings and tenants to try and be a better person and show our children what Masonry means.

For my part, Masonry was something that I experienced through my Great Uncle, William Yelland.  He took the role of a Freemason very seriously, by not just becoming a brother in the fraternity, but by also becoming and officer in the lodge and, eventually a Worshipful Master for the lodge he was a member of.  His wife, at the time, was also active in the Order of the Eastern Star, and many times I can recall them going to either lodge, for him, or Chapter, for her, together.

There was a gap in our family’s association with the Lodge, as my father did not join, nor did his father.  Both were members of the Elks, which my opinion of would require another article by itself.  The next person in my family line to take the title of Master Mason would be myself, and I was passed to that degree in September of  2008.

Seeing Masonry from the outside and then from the inside really does present a startling contrast.  No, not any any bad way as people  would like you to believe, but in a supremely positive light.  Even though I had experience with Masonry through my Uncle and what he could tell me about it, that was not enough to prepare me for the transition from being a Non-Mason, to a Mason.

This does not mean that by becoming a Mason I was touched by any divine light, or went from being some lowly sinner to a shining light of hope to anyone.  Masonry does not make you any more or less than what you are already or have the potential to be.  But I will go into more of that further on.  When you see what masons do and represent, you realize a sense of pride in being a part of something that is bigger than just you, you are now a part of something that represents history.  Not just that of the United States, but a slice of world history.

What Masonry has done for me.

It is important for me to say that Masonry has not made me any different of a person than I already am.  I have not gained any new wisdom or been given any secrets as to the location of the Templar riches that people seem to think we are hiding.

What I have gained from Masonry is a better understanding of who I am and what my role could be in this life.  That in addition to answering to myself, and also need to remember that I answer to a higher power and it is my duty, as a Mason, to demonstrated to those around me what good can come from brotherhood.  It has taught me to be mindful of those around me, and of my actions and thoughts towards them.  As it is said, “Thoughts become words, words become actions.”  So I try to keep my thoughts positive and my actions just.

To me, THIS is was Masonry is.  That by being a good person, you find both personal and spiritual peace.  Yes… these are certainly things I could find on my own, without belonging to a fraternal organization, but as part of this group, I associate with like-minded men and we can work together.

When I do something to help another, I do not advertise my Masonry.  I never say anything like, “I do this because I am a Freemason.”  In fact, I chose not to even wear a ring or pendant, because I believe that what you truly are is in your heart, and needs no external advertisement.

In short, Masonry “Makes good men better.”  It teaches that all your actions are answerable to a higher power.  To act in a manner that is good for all and to walk a path that is morally and spiritually right.

We are not a religion (we actually have people of ALL religions in our numbers), we do not worship satan or, as one person recently said to me, kidnap children for profit.  But because we are a Fraternity with secrets (note that we are NOT a secret Fraternity.)  people think that we are hiding things from them that MUST be evil or nefarious.

Masonry has been very good to me and my family.   It has not made us rich, has not granted us any social power or given us an “in” with the national body politic.  But is has bonded me with people that feel strongly about the preservation of the social values that make a family and a people strong.  It has put me in a group of people that feel as strongly about living a just and good life as I do and wish to make the world a better place.

Being a father has been an incredible journey for me.  There is really no other way to describe the way I feel about it.

My feelings about love, commitment, priorities, finances, etc… have all changed in the last 14 months since Gideon was born.   He dominates my every thought and is what I look forward to each day when I leave work for home.  And until he came along, I never knew that a person could feel that kind of love for another person.

Yes… I know, or at least hope, that what I am feeling is no different than what every parent feels for their child.   I understand that just because I am a new parent, that does not make me any more knowledgeable than anyone else.  But I like to think that I have been granted access to a secret room and all this new information has been made available to me for the first time.

Suddenly I am part of a community… a society of parents.

One of my greatest joys right now, it seeing things through the eye of my son.  Seeing things that I have become used to or dismissive of, that have taken on new meaning and new excitement to me, because now I am seeing with Gideon, for the first time, anew.

When he walks up to a flower and points at it, I see him starting to interact with the world around him.   And so now I get to experience this with him… the newness of the world as he sees it.   When he picks something up and holds it, it is with hands that have not held that object before, or may have but not knowing what it is or what it is called.  So I try to share that with him.

He is taking in so much and processing so many new things, it does not surprise me how he wears out so easy through the course of the day, and needs to take naps.  There is so much input going through that little mind, that I am certain he reaches points of overload and needs to just “shut down” for a while.

I also think I understand, now, why there is a statistical fact that people with children live a little longer than those without.   I think that our own internal clock gets a reset or recharge when we are raising a child.   Some of that youth or youthful thought process rubs off on us.  The fact that we have an excuse to act like children in order to play with our children has a rejuvenating affect.  It allows us to be kids at heart again.  And maybe this is just G-d’s way of saying… “Your doing a great job…  here are a few more years so you can keep up the good work.”

As always, I thank you for reading and, of course, sharing this journey with me.

There is this story I have been working on that I would like to see become a book, one day.  In this story, one of the key groups of people are the plains Indians… or Plains Aboriginal Americans, as I feel more comfortable calling them.

To prepare for this, I have been doing a great deal of reading and researching on the various tribes that covered the great plains.  Reading what I can and speaking with those that will talk to me.  And that is where my problem lies.

When I was learning ASLAN (American Sign Language), my teacher warned me that not only is ASLAN itself a difficult language to learn, but the deaf community, as a whole, is a very closed one.  He warned me to not expect to be “accepted” into deaf groups was a whole, just because I could communicate with them.  And I did learn that this was true. With the exception of a couple times I stepped in to help with a person asking, in Sign, for help or directions, many times I have tried to interact with people that were obviously signing, I was treated curtly or, in one case, ignored completely.

I have found that my efforts to learn about the Native tribes in my area have had similar results.  I have spoken to local members of the Yokuts, Cherokee and Chumash tribes, and while I find that they are willing to talk to me, I feel more that they are trying to give me the information and then dismiss me than wanting to help educate me.

I understand that I am not part of their community, I also understand that I am part of, historically, the reason that they have lost their land and their ways of life.  I will not deny any of that, but there is little I have had DIRECTLY to do with it, so I  am not sure why there seems to be this wall I have to contend with.

I suppose that I do, in part, understand their point, if I really do look at it.  There are many cases throughout history where a people have been put in dire circumstances like that and those that survived or those that were survived by their elders to continue their stories, have been remiss in sharing with those that were considered outsiders.  Take, for example, those that survived the Holocaust.  I have known, personally, two people that survived the death camps, and both of them were very difficult to get to talk about it.  Not because they did not want to share, but because… as one of them put it for me… “How do you share your emotions with another over your own pending death and the genocide of our people?”

What happened to the Aboriginal Americans was no less than genocide…  and as the offspring of Irish and Scottish immigrants who came over with the initial wave of colonists, I am sure that somewhere in my history, my lineage shares in that responsibility and guilt.

I have learned a lot through my writing and reading about the peoples that made up the Plainsmen.  This is a piece of history that we are rapidly losing, and while the story I am writing is not going to help that history, I will continue to work on getting all I can from those that are willing to sit with me and learn.

As always… thank you for your time and your comments are encouraged.

I have been trying to not post political articles, I really have.  I have grown to really hate politics over the last few years.  It is not because I do not enjoy the discussion of politics, but because there has been no “side” to take recently.

I look that the people that call themselves candidates for the GOP, and the only thing that I really have to ask is, “Is this the best our money is buying?”  I mean, you listen to these jokers talking and “debating”, and you start to get the feeling that the GOP is purposely throwing their chances in the race.  That they are not really serious about TRYING to win.

I have not seen what the Democrats have to offer yet, and frankly, I am not looking forward to it.  Because with what the GOP is offering this go around, I am pretty sure that the only way the Dems will lose is if they go out and nominate Courtney Love, and even in that case, I think she would have a fighting chance, from what I have seen.

Maybe I am just naive or jaded.  I still think that the person who runs for the office should be motivated to be there by something other than popularity or money.  They should be there for the sole purpose of making the nation better.  Too often, especially during Obama’s run, I hear people talk about how he has his “Legacy” to think about.

I think that if a person goes into any undertaking thinking about their legacy first, then they are not worried about anything other than looking good to begin with.  They are not interested in taking chances on unpopular decisions.  They are not willing to go out on a limb to piss people off, even their own people in their own party.

Maybe I will end up being wrong.  Maybe this will end up being a great year for politics, but about the only way I see that happening now is if there is a miracle and we have a powerful figure step up as a “Third Party Candidate”.  If the third party ever had a chance, it is going to be this time around.

We shall see.

As always, thanks for reading.

How often have you ever been talking to a person that you have not seen in a while, then upon parting, you make that commitment that we all, or at least many of us, renege on?

I do not think that we intend to lie to a person when we tell them that we will call them later, or discuss the option of getting together sometime.  I believe that we make these plans with every intent on keeping them.  Then life just… gets in the way.  Other things happen and we keep pushing the effort to keep that promise off further and further, until, many times, it escapes our thought altogether, or at least until the next time we see them.

I am especially bad about this, and I know and admit it.  I cannot even count, anymore, the number of friends that I have let go because I have not made the effort to keep in touch.  I understand that friendship is a two-way street, and I should not be the only one that makes the effort.  But I should at least try.

It is not that I do not like these people, it is just, as I stated earlier, that life seems to get in the way.  Other things come up and take precedence over the option of calling others or writing letters to people.

As an example, let me tell you about a friend of mine.  He and I practically grew up together and were always hanging out in High School and on the weekends.  When we graduated from high school, we still got together all the time.  This lasted until he moved to Texas.  We were and are still as close as a phone call, but there is something that makes making that effort hard.  I am not sure what, but it is there.

Luckily, I guess, I am not alone.  Before writing this piece, I spoke to several people about this phenomena, and many said that they have had the same problem.  In some case people have even stopped staying in close contact with family members.  There are even a couple cases where the people I spoke to have family that live in the same town, and they still do not keep in touch.

I would like you, who are reading this now, to tell me your stories about this and why you think it happens.  Tell me, in your own words, what you do to justify it to yourself or to explain the reasoning away.  I am not trying to put any of you on the spot, but I would like to get your opinions on this.

Thanks for reading.

Can you believe that is has been ten years already?

So much has happened in that time, and yet it still seems like it was not that long ago.  Children have been born or become adults, growing up with a hole in their lives where a parent used to be.  Husbands and Wives moved on with their lives, yet never stopped thinking about the one that they lost in one of the airplanes or buildings.

So many people that might have gone on to greatness, been the next Nobel Laureate, the next great doctor or mathematician.  Souls that might have gone on to create the next great idea, invent the next medicine that would have saved millions, wrote the next great book, been a great father or mother, grandfather or grandmother… lost.

Hands that will never hold a child, a lover, a sister, brother or other family member again. voices that we will never hear speak our names or be there to listen to others speak theirs. Lost chances of friendships, apologies, loves and dreams come true.  Promises made that will never be fulfilled, someone making a trip to propose to someone they love… gone.

Then there is the hate that this has caused.  Like the world needed one more thing to divide it’s people from one another, this has opened yet another rift.  Not only creating a paranoia of anyone that looks like they might be middle-eastern, but also a hatred for anyone that is openly Muslim.  I have lost track of how many times I have heard comments like, “Any Muslim is a terrorist.”, or various versions of the same.  I have no delusions that it was Islamic Extremists that caused this, but I also do not believe that every person that practices Islam is an extremist or a terrorist.

My heart goes out to all those innocent lives that were lost on 11 September 2001.  Further, my heart and best wishes go out to all those that survived or were survived by on that unfortunate day.  The only thing that we can truly understand is that life will go on, the pain will lessen with time, but the scars and loss will remain.  We cannot bring back those that were lost, but we can honor their memories by being better people in their honor.

For my September 11th, I am not going to mourn those lost, but celebrate life in the memory of those lost.  I think that they would appreciate that more than feeling sorrow of their loss.

I am not turning this into a political debate… If anyone posts anything turning this into one, I will delete that post.  I do not do that often… so take heed.

One of the most important things that my wife and I have been trying to do, now that we have a set of little ears around the house, has  been to watch our language.  To pay attention to the words we use and omit the ones that might find their way into his vocabulary.

We had not even realized how much swore until we really started paying attention to it, now we are catching ourselves on a regular basis using words that our parents, at one time, would punish us for.

With this realization on our parts, we started a new program in our house, and it includes guests as well.  It is called, simply, “The Pinch”.  And it is starting to show some fruit.

The way it works is this.  If you say anything in the way of a curse… words I cannot share here because my filter will change them into something else, then whoever hears it first and makes the connection gets to pinch, good and hard, the offender.  Guests are given one warning, if they are not already aware of the game, then they are fair game if they drop any foul bombs.

Granted…  at seven months, the child will probably not pick up on much right now.  But we have to start on ourselves now to train each other to find other words to use.  Something that I find very important.

One thing I have to laugh about with this whole adventure is that this was all explained to me once before.   Years ago, my wife and I had a tape of Robin Williams: Live at the Met.  In there he has a whole section about how kids pick up on language cues before we know it.  I will not go into detail, but if you have a chance, and I am sure that it is out there on YouTube, listen to it.  It will have you rolling.

When I went through my Bar Mitzvah ceremony, when I was thirteen, I was excited.  Not so much by the fact that I was going to be a “Man” in the eyes of the temple, but more because I knew that there would be gifts.

That is not to say that the ceremony meant nothing to me, on the contrary, it meant a great deal.  While I am sure that I was a constant source of challenge to Rabbi Peskind, in that I was a lazy student, I was excited that once this was completed I would be able to take a more active role in the temple.

After the ceremony, as I expected, came the gifts.  Most of these were checks, but there was also a ring to commemorate my Bar Mitzvah and there was a package.  It was heavy and solid.  My imagination was running wild about what it could be.

A Game?  Some tools?  A Model?

When I opened it, my heart sank.  It was a book, and worse yet, it was a dictionary.  I am embarrassed to say, even now, about 30 years later, that I was angry about this.  For months that book sat in a corner of my closet.  Never getting touched or looked at a second or third time.  I was treating it like the proverbial Fifth Horseman and I would have nothing to do with it.

Sometimes, I think, especially when we are young, we fail to see the importance of a gift, even when the person that gave it to you does.  So several month later, I was reading something in a paper and I came to a work that stumped me.  While I do not recall the word now, I do remember trying to break it down for it root meanings, but got nowhere.  So I asked my Mother what it meant.  Her response was:

“You have a dictionary in the closet… look it up.”

Suddenly I needed to come face to face with the 800 pound gorilla in the closet.  The big red book that I was loathing the mere existence of for so long.  As I picked up the book, the cold sweat broke out on my brow and down the center of my back.  I opened it to the page and, low and behold, there was the answer I needed.

While looking that word up, I found another that interested me, then another, and yet ANOTHER.  Suddenly, before I knew it, I was sitting in my bedroom reading a dictionary, much like one would read an Anne Rice novel (I would say a Stephanie Meyer novel for the younger readers, but I doubt there is much in her books that would require a dictionary.)

Today, on my shelf, a mere five feet from where I sit writing this piece, sits that very same dictionary.  Yes it is outdated and they are not that expensive, but there is something about that book that I just cannot bring myself to part with it.

You know how they say that you can never forget your first love?   I think that this might be the same thing.  To this day, that book means more to me than any of the other books on my shelves, short of the Torah, My Great-Great Grandmother’s Bible, and my Marine Corps Manual.

If there is a moral to this article… it would have to be to not discount the gifts of others.  Just because it was not what you wanted at the time, it does not mean it is not what you might need very soon.