Lessons In The Shaving Mug.

Last night as I finished cleaning the kitchen after dinner, Dylan quietly came in after his bath and told me that
he had cut himself with my razor. Sure enough, he takes his hand down to reveal a nick out of his chin.

I nearly started laughing, and told him that I would teach him in the morning how to properly shave.

"Why would you laugh at an 8 year old who sliced himself while playing unsupervised with a razor," you say?
I say, "cram it and keep reading".

This is the second such incident, the first was a little cut on his arm. The first time, he started out telling me that he cut himself on accident when he “wasn’t playing” with my razor, but just wanted to see if it would cut the hair on his arm. I told him then that I was proud that he told me and glad that he didn’t try to hide it. Last night I was even more proud when he didn’t try to cover anything at all and flat out said he cut his chin trying to shave. We cleaned him up and he wanted a band-aid instead of the old tried and true piece of toilet paper stuck to it. So he puts one on and climbs up in bed just in time for Kim to get home. She goes in and sees that he’s got the blanket cranked up to his nose, and knows something is up. After guessing that it was another tooth lost, she went right for the shaving attempt. He giggled and confessed yet again. So this morning we both lathered up with the mug and brush, and I gave him his first instruction on how to shave. Its funny, you don’t really think about it until you have to show someone else how to do it. The first challenge is getting over the mirror doing opposite of what you know your hand is doing, and after a few seconds of that, and some advice on not ever letting the blade slide sideways, he was shaving, making the goofy faces to tighten the skin and everything.
Between the shaving and stopping dead in his tracks when he came across a poster of a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model in Walmart, I’m beginning to suspect that the ladies will sooner than later be a huge factor in his life. If I’m totally honest with myself, I think they have been for at least a year now.
My point to this little post is that even though he doesn’t have a reason to shave, I want him to know the proper way to do it so that he doesn’t get hurt while letting his curiosity get the better of him, same reason that he knows how to swim even though we don’t have a pool. When the time comes for him to date, which he has already asked about, We will be the ones to make sure he knows the proper way to protect himself and his girlfriend. Some of you out there may think that the only way to do that is through abstinence, but some of you out there were never a teenage boy, and those of you who were know that its not a realistic expectation. Not even close. You can preach it and teach its benefits, but in the end he needs to know how to do it safely and when the day comes, I want him so prepared that he takes precaution as naturally as he buckles up when getting into the car. Planting the seeds of trust and being open when he comes to me with his mistakes will hopefully flower into the kind of relationship where we can talk openly about the hard issues that he is sure to face. Turning a blind eye to his natural instincts and preaching is only going to make me a grandfather before my time. Like everything, education and knowledge, not fear is what will protect him. And judging by his current awareness at 8, he is going to need to be well educated.

Home Improvement Improves Home.

I'm proud of this title, it really says it all in the redundant way that real news does.
Enough about me...
We have a small kitchen and a mud room that is nearly the exact same size. Roughly 7 x 11 for each. So why not spiff it up a little by replacing the linoleum? No big deal right, I’m pretty handy and I already have in my head a game plan for how this is coming together.
It’s simple, take off the trim, measure , cut and place, replace the trim and its off to something fun to do for the rest of the weekend.
I think you all know where this is going.
You guessed it, and it fully confirms what I’ve always said, “nothing is easy”
Not even purchasing this ‘weekend fun-draining’ sheet of polished plastic was easy.
I get started by organizing my workspace. One room at a time. I choose the mud room in case I make any mistakes while I’m getting the hang of it. I push the washer and dryer into the kitchen which leaves about enough room for one of my legs to get through to the fridge, but no big deal, I’ll have this knocked out in a couple hours max. Well, a couple hours later, I’m still removing trim and sinks and preparing the surface. When I get it all ready to start measuring is when I get that first sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, the one that simultaneously says your in over your head and your never gonna get this room done by the end of the weekend. Much less both rooms. This room, tiny as it is has 3 door ways! Which means 6 door jams to cut around. Plus a water heater and all the gas and water pipes that conveniently pop up through the stupid floor. I tell my self that the measuring is going to take the bulk of the time in this project, and to be patient and take as long as you need to get it right, measure, re-measure and then doubt your ability to read a ruler and re-measure a couple more times before committing a razor to this “plastic gold” When 10:30 p.m. rolls around, I’m done....MEASURING! And my work of art has been transferred to the sheet in the living room where I will now throw caution to the wind and start hacking this thing into a near perfect replica of my room. That done and an hour later, the moment of truth, all my hard work will be put to the test, with Kim watching over me and lending me moral support during this tough time in the operation. (Actually I think she wanted to see that I didn’t jack it up) we laid it down to make sure it fit and to make any adjustments in the event that any were required. Who am I fooling, of course there would be adjustments, why wouldn’t there be, I’ve only been working on this stupid room for 12 hours now with nothing to show for it yet except an inaccessible kitchen. Still, I set to the task with the determination of uh...um...well, something with one hell of a lot of determination. 45 more minutes of trimming here and touching up there and I’m done. Except for 'the move everything back in' part which can easily be done in the morning.
Morning rolls around and its time to put everything back, including hook up the washer again which I convince myself will leak because it would be too easy for it not to. I’m wrong, the washer hooked up and didn’t leak one drop, the sink however developed a leaky pipe to make up for it! Why oh why! After uttering a choice string of words about Murphy and his bullsh**t laws, I fetch my monkey wrench and fix the problem with relative ease. With that room accomplished, its time to get started on the kitchen. To find out how that went, just re-read the above and swap out washer and dryer for even heavier fridge and stuff. I would be more specific, but re-living this is putting me through the same mental fatigue and I can’t do it. All in all, I got ‘er done and it looks great and if anyone comes over and says otherwise, you might end up buried in my back yard, so WATCH IT!

DYLAN & GRANDPA

DYLAN & GRANDPA
Originally uploaded by cmort04.

This is one of my favorite photos. While not technically very good, it has a timeless feel that in its imperfection has really captured the essence of the moment when Dylan was hugging Grandpa and saying goodbye after a visit. For me It sums up how he loved his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

The Passing of a Giant

January 11 was marked by the passing of my Grandpa. Not a man of huge stature, but a giant in character and experience. As a boy, I spent a lot of my most precious memories with both he and my Grandma at their house in Prospect, OR. When I think back, as I often do, my memories of those times are very special and will be cherished for the rest of my life. Grandpa taught me how to fish, how to be patient and wait for them to get hungry, and even when I was sure that there were no fish in the river or lake, all of a sudden, just like he told me they would, they started biting, at that moment, the cold went away and I could hardly take my eyes off the tip of my pole. He also thought nothing of getting us up at the ungodly hour of 4 am to go sit in a cold boat in the middle of a colder lake with an even colder breeze blowing off the snow covered mountains. I don’t feel the cold or remember how tired and crabby I must have been, what I do have is the wonderful memories and experience of a time spent with a great man that only that kind of character building exercise can bring. There were many trips to Diamond Lake, or the Rogue River like that. When I’ve gone back to those spots, I’ve felt like he is with me, now I’m sure that his spirit will be. When I take my son on the lake, I’ll continue to think back to when I was in this same spot 27 or so years earlier, eating the fish bait that he assured me was actually Velveta cheese, (it is still hands down the best tasting fish bait I’ve ever eaten). Only now, I can see what kind of memories my son will have and that inspires me to make the effort to spend those times together. They are the things that will define me as I grow older and hopefully become a grandpa. His lessons were many, and not all that he taught were warm and fuzzy, some stung a little, but I see now what I didn’t see as a young man and I still pull from those experiences as I try to raise my son with the same values.
He lived a full life, filled with experiences and love that the rest of us can only hope to achieve.
He touched many generations. Dylan had a unique bond with him. They would talk baseball and baseball history. I sat and listened to a conversation about Shoeless Joe Jackson that amazed me. Dylan had just finished a book about his life in those times and during that conversation I think Grandpa was treated to some special memories he hadn’t visited in some time, and I learned a lot as well. For instance, I never knew that he was a pro in the minor leagues. How did I not know this? The answer is that he was a humble man who wanted to give you the benefit of his life experience without being boastful and the depth of his experience was staggering. I had a brief involvement with the Lions Club here in Eugene, and among those people, there were probably 5 who personally knew him, but all respected his achievements within that club. I’m sure the same can be said nationally as he was very active and his voice was heard and respected by too many to count. My prayers are with my Grandma now, I hope the love from her large family will help in this transition, but nothing will fill the gap left by this man and their 67 years of marriage. But maybe the knowledge that their future generations will carry on and use their fine example as a model of a life well lived can grant a kind of peace that doesn’t fill the void but makes it acceptable and easier.
He will be missed terribly but I’m comforted by the thought that Grandpa is resting in peace and finally comfortable again. Where ever he may be is surely a better place for having him.

G&G_0074

G&G_0074
Originally uploaded by cmort04.