more normal than not

What the heck?!

I sat here….writing a blog post…drinking coffee….and get to the point where I’m going to save the latest part….and it wouldn’t do it.

So….I restored the backup of the post…..tried to save it….wouldn’t do it….closed the window to start it up again….and when I started it up again….everything was gone.

That’s kind of a pity, too….it was some brilliant writing.

That’s the beauty of something that goes away….it can be as great as you say it was.

If the evidence is gone….it can be great.

I wonder what happened?

I guess that the gist of the post was centered on a comment made by a reader named Mike Walker.

Here’s the comment:

Thought you might like to know this. Stack’s gym, or club as you’d have it, was the Dolphin Swim and Rowing Club, down at the end of Fisherman’s Wharf at Aquatic Park in San Fran. That’s where Stack did his swimming, most of his running and daily biking from mid fifties until his death in 1995.

There is a sign in that club, embossed in wood and varnish that reads “Renew Thyself Completely Each Day. Do It Again, & Again, & Forever Again.” Fitting for the man Stack was, and all of the others from that club who had come before, and after him. Sail on! Mike Walker

The original post….the one that disappeared….was about consistency….and heart….and just getting out into the world and moving….day after day after day.

The story of Walt Stack is amazing to me….this older fellow who was a hod carrier….who worked with masonry all day….who went out and ran and biked and swam every day….as part of his routine….not sponsored or feted or supported financially for what he did….who just went out every day….no matter what the weather was…..and did his workout.

Here’s a description of what he did….from the Wikipedia article:

For 27 years, from 1966 until 1993, Stack persisted in covering a set training route. His highly visible training routine made him a San Francisco institution. “I’m going to do this ’til I get planted,” Stack decreed. Starting on his bike, he would ride six hilly miles from hisPotrero Hill home to Fisherman’s Wharf. Once there, he’d strip off his shirt, displaying tattoos of peacocks, wild horses, and bathing beauties across his broad chest, and then proceed to run a 17-mile (27 km) route over the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito and back, after which he would take a one-mile (1.6 km) swim in the currents of the San Francisco Bay near Alcatraz Island. It is probably noteworthy that Stack could claim that he was the only actual ‘prisoner’ of Alcatraz Island to have made a successful swim from Alcatraz to the shores of Fisherman’s Wharf – Stack was a prisoner on Alcatraz for a six-month period sentenced to hard labor while a youth, for having left his post AWOL in the Philippines. He had in fact swum the distance many times in his later years, as a participant in sanctioned Alcatraz swims which have become quite popular. He often swam year round in those cold Bay waters.

How about that? Walt Stack was a DUDE!! What an athlete! His story is pretty darn inspiring to me.

I’m going to publish this before something happens and it all disappears again.

Because….if it keeps disappearing, I’ll have to keep writing it….again and again….and forever….again.

I don’t know if I have the endurance to do that.

Walt Stack….man…..

“it keeps you runnin’ ” The Doobie Brothers

I think that the tiring thing about delivering mail in the snow is feeling like you had to concentrate all the time on your driving.

That’s kind of a scary thought….to think that I’m reveling in the dry weather and getting back to not having to pay attention to my driving…..

It’s not like that.

I pay attention all the time.

It’s just that when the weather is bad, it seems like I need to exercise automatic mind command to maintain traction.

It seems like if I grip the wheel tighter and squint a little, I’ll somehow manage to keep my rig on the road.

If I concentrate hard enough, I won’t slide off into the abyss.

My tension and nervousness when the roads are icy and really slippery must be the only thing keeping me between the fence posts.

It’s not like that now….the roads are nice and filled with clear and traction encouraging blacktop.

That’s a good thing.

It’s a good thing that my memory is short for the bad weather.

I don’t bear a grudge against the ice and snow.

I’m in a different mode now….

I’m into Spring.

The fact that something was hard in the near past doesn’t have to color how I’m feeling about the good times now.

I’d be a dork if I was scared about the snow that wasn’t here anymore.

I’d be a dork if I ever talked about being afraid of anything.

I should keep my fears to myself…..and always operate from a position of STRENGTH.

I don’t want to have to remember to steer into the skid….

I guess that if it’s not an automatic response, you usually don’t have time to consult the manual when you start sliding.

Anyway….why am I talking about all that slippery ice?

It’s better now….easy and dry.

So now I worry about getting all the work done that I need to do before the poison ivy comes up and I have to pay attention to what plants I’m rubbing up against.

If it’s not one thing…it’s another.

What a whiny guy.

“king and cross” Asgeir

I woke up this morning to the sound of raucous laughter.

Sparrow must have been having a good dream because she was laughing her head off.

When a little baby is sleeping 10 inches from your head, it’s not hard to wake up when she starts laughing like that.

When I got up a couple of minutes later, Jenny was awake, too….and I mentioned to her on my way out of the room that Sparrow had woken up laughing.

“She’s been up for an hour.”

Lately, it’s been a measurement not of how well we slept….but of “how badly” we didn’t sleep.

When it’s only a little bit bad, it’s a victory.

Some nights are good…some….different from good.

I remember how terrifying it was when our two older children were little and they both slept through the night for the first time.

I think that Jenny and I thought that something must have happened….but it was just the new people sleeping like people should sleep.

You should mind your own business when you’re sleeping.

Sleeping should not be an interactive exercise.

I was thinking about Sparrow waking up laughing….or “not waking up laughing”.

When I sleep through some of this stuff, I can put my own kind of spin on things.

There’s more romance in thinking that the baby woke up laughing than in knowing that she’s been up for an hour ….screwing around and causing a commotion.

If I think about it, though, there’s not much difference in effect if I’m awake when Sparrow wakes up laughing….or if Sparrow wakes me up laughing.

Waking up to that little voice….finding so much humor in some private joke…..laughing….laughing….laughing.

That’s a good thing.

Now….it’s wonderful to sleep. It’s necessary.

It’s the thing that frames our days.

It makes it possible to go on….to make our way through the hours ahead of us.

But if I could bottle up these laughter filled, sleepless nights….if I had the foresight to do it….I’d have a pantry full of laughter filled bottles.

I have a feeling that there are going to be some quiet nights somewhere in our future.

It’s good to sleep.

I wish that I could stay awake and really take all of this in, though.

I wish I could stay awake and notice it all….and not be a cranky SOB in the morning.

How do you do that?

Sparrow didn’t wake up laughing this morning….but that’s the way I remember it.

That’s the way I’ll remember it for a while.

“happy” Martin Sexton

Bedtime is hard.

Not “all the time” hard.

Just hard sometimes.

I’m not talking about my bedtime. My bedtime is easy. When I get to go to sleep, I don’t fight it.

I relish getting to go to sleep.

I fall asleep on the couch….but I’m not really supposed to fall asleep on the couch.

I need to stay up until I get to lay down in my bed.

But this really isn’t about me.

But ….kind of.

I went in with Nate the other night to put him to bed…..and when we got to his room (it’s a short walk….our house is small. I shouldn’t make it sound like it was a journey. It’s not.) …..when we got to his room, Big Teddy was in his bed….waiting for him.

“Where’s Little Teddy?”

Me: “What do you mean ‘Where’s Little Teddy? He should be in your bed.  Where’d you put him?!”

This was a moment of panic for me….something hard can turn bad pretty quickly if things aren’t lined up right.

“I don’t KNOW!!! I DON’T KNOW!! WHERE’S LITTLE TEDDY?!!! I NEEEEEEEEEEED HIM!! ”

So….we started looking for Little Teddy.

Living room….kitchen…..under Nate’s bed.

While I was looking under the bed, I heard Nate padding towards our bedroom.

By the time I popped up and quietly ran after him, he had the door open to the room where Jenny was putting Sparrow to sleep.

I knew that if I tried to stop him at this point, things would escalate and get pretty loud pretty quick.

“I can’t find Little Teddy.”

“Well, you’re going to have to look for him yourself. Don’t wake Sparrow up. Close the door….close the door….”

I got him away from the door and we went back to his room….without Little Teddy.

“Maybe Teddy is out in the car?!! MAYBE HE’S IN THE CAR!! YOU NEEEEEEED TO CHECK THE CAR!!! CHECK THE CAR FOR TEDDY!!!”

“I’m not checking the car. You’ll need to sleep without Little Teddy tonight. We’ll find him tomorrow.”

Of course, this escalated things.

Logic and calm explanation doesn’t quiet things down all the time.

“TEDDY!!!!! I NEED TEDDY!!! WHERE’S TEDDY?!!! FIND HIM…..FIND HIM…..FIND TEDDY!!!”

IT WAS TIME FOR BED!!! So I picked Nate up…..yelling and kicking….and set him down in his bed….and….

he laid down and got quiet.

I’d won!!! Little Teddy was nowhere to be found….but I’d asserted my will and laid Nate down and he recognized that I was the boss and WHAT I SAID WAS THE WAY IT WAS GOING TO BE!!!

I HAD WON AS A PARENT!!

I WAS THE ALPHA!!!

I was basking in my victory when I heard Nate say, “Here he is!!”

Freaking Little Teddy was in the bed all along.

Freaking Little Teddy.

“Teddy Boy” The Beatles