An Unexpected Rite of Passage

I am certainly proud. And I'm excited for her. And I am happy/relieved that she has a real interest in a professional career and that she has vision for her future. But, if I am going to be a little self-centered, I now feel suddenly older.

My oldest, a daughter, had the day off today. She requested it specifically since she used it to drive down to UW-GB, a hour and a half away, to take the Law School Admission Test. For whatever reason, it really hit me that this was a young woman and not my girl.

I assume she did well; she clearly has an aptitude for the type of mental constructs best used in law. In addition, she is no idiot and has actually been studying aggressively for it. It's fun to see the flash in her eyes as she pulled up after driving home. There is such an energy and drive...

So maybe it's that energy that makes me feel older. Or maybe it's the passing of the torch as I look back at my own LSAT experience. Maybe it's starting to see the next generation really start to make a move on assume the roles of social purpose and direction. Or maybe it's just seeing my daughter take the first real adult step for her future that didn't include me and was her own idea and goal. Whatever. I can get used to this feeling.

It Pays To Be Prepared.

One of the things that I find really fun about summer's in Door County is how so many people live their lives in total preparation for a moment of down time. With the plethora of opportunities to walk, run, bike, swim, boat, read, etc... and everything being fairly close, you can fit a lot into a day if you are ready to go.

Of course the dress code here helps too. Few are sloppy, and urban "costumes" are very rare. Things tend to be simple, crisp and clean, and versatile. My favorite summer outfit consists of quick-dry cargo shorts, a button down oxford cloth dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, sport sandals if its casual or leather sandals if its dressy, and my Aussie hat if I'll be on the water. I tend to wear some derivative of this all day, every day. The only thing it doesn't do well is travel into the evening as most get crisp enough to need some other layer.

So when I am out, I bring a polartec of some sort. But, if I am at home, I have something better. Evening fires are kind of a staple event and last week I finally committed to a plan for the east side of the main house. First in, as it is the most important, was a permanent fire pit. Over Memorial Day we fully tried it out with all the kids home, and a handful of other friends to round out the mix. We made burgers and brats on the grill, watched the sunset from "upstairs", and climbed back down to finish the evening with stories, glasses of Port, and people slowly heading home until just my family was left.

Here Comes That For Which I Paid My Three Bucks!

I try to not be one of those who complains about the weather, although I know I fail. And the reason I fail is that, in the end, I really don't like it cold or windy or rainy. So, by extension, I live for these days. June is here, the crickets, mosquitoes, tourists, and all-day-outside stuff is back. I'm a happy man.

I do need to be more disciplined however. I get up early. I make coffee and wake up with the sun and recent emails. I go to bed within an hour or so of sunset. There are a lot of hours in between. What's hard for me is to really live each day fully whether it is to include kayaking, working at the store, taking care of bills, building whatever, sleeping in the sun, running errands, getting together for another lunch or dinner or whatever with friends, ... there are so many excellent things to do that, if I am not careful, I waste too much time just trying to figure out what I want to do.

I think I found a derivative system that helps though. I have always been big on writing notes. Lately, with my morning coffee, I write a separate note of things to do that day. At the end of the day, I throw it away. The next day starts new and I always have a list for that day rather than a list that is impossible in it's length, impossible in its facts (I can't transplant trees if it's supposed to rain all day), or laden with the critique of those things not done yesterday.

This is my season. And I love the title quote. Mary Tyler Moore murmured it to herself as her hunky date, after they had gone to a cheap movie together, leaned in to give her a goodnight kiss. I love how it recognizes the redemptiveness that an excellent finish gives to an arduous process. It's summer and I'm going to get my three bucks worth.

Congratulations, It's A Child!

Sometimes some things are so silly that even talking about them gives more credibility than is deserved. I risk that event today.

A while back I talked about the great divisors of life. I mentioned that actually being alive was probably the most significant, i.e. you are either dead or you are alive. The next most significant divisor is our sexuality. Again, this is a matter not of absolutes, but of most common, and, for most of us, being male or female will be the most significant identifying feature after life/death. It defines who we are, how we respond to relationships, how we introduce ourselves, and how we view all aspects of life. I love how from the beginning our sex is important ranging from the development of tests that can determine the sex of the child (and the never ending discussion of whether to know ahead of time) to the doctor's stereotypical initial birth announcement, "It's a girl (or boy)!"

So I read an article about a Canadian couple who are committed to raising their most recent child with no reference to it's sex. I wish them the best of luck on that one. Normally I'd be concerned about child abuse issues, but this one is so silly I have no objection. There is no way that this child can be raised gender neutral. The cultural forces, for better and worse, and the base genetic drives will completely overwhelm any good or silly intention for neutrality.

Actually, the biggest surprise to me is that parents who already have a child would still think that the base sexual drive can be neutered. As Ray Kinsella said, "...we're dealing with primal forces of nature..." (extra credit movie quote). I still have the image of my son, our youngest, showing up for one of his sister's birthday parties, one boy in a sea of girls. They had all their American Girl dolls. He ran upstairs, came back with his Darth Vader figurine, and sat still for as long as he could. Unfortunately, some of the American Girls did blow up later in the party ...

The link to the story is here:

http://www.foxnews.com/world/2011/05/24/genderless-child-creates-media-firestorm-toronto/?test=latestnews

If you have nothing better to do, read it and share your thoughts.

Lost In Translation

I had a conversation the other day which I had to pass on to you. Obviously, I talk a lot about relationship. I also recognize that there are quite a few definitions for relationship. Apparently this can cause some confusion.

Up here there are quite a few old family names with many branches and members. In fact, I've been told that there is a standing rule that no one who lives north of Sister Bay can date any one else north of Sister Bay. Apparently there was a family reunion a few years back where a husband and wife both received invitations. Separately.

Anyway, trying to keep the names and connections straight is sort of a county-wide pastime. The other day I was talking to a Bob Brainerd about buying some lumber. Part way through our conversation he alluded to his wife having worked for the county Parks Department. Something in my mind clicked and I asked, "Oh, are you related to June Brainerd?"

A horrified look crossed his face and he barked, "No, she's just my wife!" I guess I'll never figure out how they had children ...

That's So Gay

It's interesting how these blog posts form. In this case, it stems from a news article I heard this morning while driving to the landfill. In essence, homosexual men are complaining that "gay" is being increasingly used as a synonym for stupid. As soon as I heard the complaint, I started laughing.

Please note that I am not laughing at the man offended, at gays in general, or at sexuality at large. Neither am I laughing at the kids who have hijacked "gay" for their own purposes and meaning (as silly as this one seems to me).

Instead, as an English/Writer/Word dude, I was laughing at the irony and of the abysmal historical knowledge. All language is in flux. Language, by definition, is a cultural construct. As such, it will change to follow the new-cut riverbed of our meandering social stream. At times, the modification of language and word meaning is fairly logical. At others, it seems quixotic.

The irony here, of course, is that "gay" was usurped from its prior meaning of light-hearted happiness to represent, instead, homo-sexual men. I don't understand that etymological shift, but whatever.

In like fashion, I don't understand the current, typically youthful, use of "gay" to mean stupid or silly or lame or dumb or whatever.  I do understand that it represents a continued shift of language and, while I am not likely to use the word as such, I am not going to find it anything other than childish.

This is not to say that there should be no constraints on language. I think it appropriate for there to be a tension between modernity and history. This includes the fact that words do have power and that their power should be respected. I, as an example, try to limit "awesome" to that which is not only spectacular, but to that which is spectacular and God created. If I am going to be in "awe" of something, and since I can't think of a higher emotional state, that word should be limited to creation of the highest order and, by extension, that which created it.

The thing that got to me, I guess, is this. I don't really care whether you are single, married, homo-sexual, bi-sexual, in a polyandrous relationship, celibate or any other of the myriad of sexually expressive constructs. Again, whatever. Up here there is a girl my son's age who is now attending a very good college. Smart kid and very talented in her sport. Her mom and dad are divorced (after 3 kids and 8 years), the mom is the managing partner of a local company and the dad, who does not have a ton of educational experience, works as one of the new employee trainers part time, for her, and goes home to his sugar-daddy each night. As mentioned some posts ago, since it is a small community, everyone knows. Indeed, since it is one of the more significant businesses, almost everyone deals with one or both of them fairly regularly. As far as I know, and this is the important part, no one cares. She is kind but a bit aloof; he is a lot of fun to hang out with but not the most responsible. For both, their sexual choices have a part in developing the persons they are today. However, neither are defined by their sexual expression; their sexual choices are not who they are but simply part of who they are. I like that.

So, when I get someone on the radio telling me that "gay" is a sacred word, insisting that it remain the PC term, and leaning heavily on the insinuation that being hip and modern and accepting and contemporary is all delineated by a reverence of this word, I want to gag. So I laugh instead; if he really was so hip and smart and relevant, he would recognize that "gay" was stolen from an entirely different context, that language is ever changing, and that 20 years from now it will likely mean something entirely different again. Underneath his relatively benign request is an insidious implication for protected status. I decline.

Boats, Water, and Swimming

We got the boat in the water. It has been a story of fits and starts. To start with, last fall I had Lee drop it at my house so I could do some work on it. However, this spring has been so cold, windy, and wet that I never did get the time to attack any of the cosmetic things I wanted done.

So, a week or so ago, I put the water impeller and tubing and plugs back in place, re-lubed the lower unit, and fired it up. It started easily. It also leaked easily. I must have had a section of the head which didn’t drain well last fall and the head and corresponding manifold section had splits from freezing.

After talking to Lee I decided to just try JB Weld on the splits and that seemed to work. So Lee stopped by one morning and we loaded it up and brought it down to the docks. Again it fired right up and now didn’t leak. However, since it started up so easily at home, I had never run it long or tried it through its RPM range. Now, down at the dock, even when warmed up, it wouldn’t idle. As soon as I throttled down to anything under 800 RPMs, it just choked out and died.

Lee popped the gas up while holding down the carb air intake to try to create more vacuum to suck out any sludge, and, while it helped some, the problem largely remained. We managed to slide it into reverse and off the trailer and over to one of the slips. Over the next few days I ran the boat a few times and even did a superficial carburetor cleaning, but never really got it fixed.

By now it would idle low enough to safely shift, though and we did get out last Sunday for a few hours. Then, on Monday, I got the call that the slip spaces needed clearing out and that I needed to get the boat out to the mooring. This boat hadn’t been on that mooring so I loaded up the ground tackle I needed and punched through the wind to our mooring spot. However, once there, I found that the guy who stripped the buoys in the fall and re-installed them in the spring had completely messed up hanging it and there was no way I would be able to fix it in those swells.

So we motored back to the dock, explained our frustration, left the boat in the spare slip, and waited for a calmer day. By noon yesterday the wind had slowed some and shifted some and out we went again. This time things went quite well and we both straitened the buoy out and got the main hawser and back ups set properly.

With everything in order, Jen and I went back one more time to the dock, dropped her off, loaded the kayak, and went back to the mooring solo. It’s a good setup and it worked well even single-handedly. After I clipped on to the mooring, I threw the kayak over the edge and tied it to one of the back cleats. I then shut down the boat and grabbed a few ropes that I wanted to bring back home.

Unfortunately, one of those ropes was identical to the line I was using to tie the kayak. The end result of that identity crisis was that I looked up to see the kayak quietly floating away. I waited for 5 seconds to comprehend the limits of my choices, stripped down, and dove into to water that I knew would be cold. In reality, cold would have been an improvement. I swam as fast as I could, got the kayak and swam it back to the boat. I scrambled back on board, double tied the kayak, and toweled off. I flipped the batteries back on and checked the gauges. The water temperature was 42 degrees. Feeling what I believe is referred to as refreshed, I finished shutting the boat down, slid into the kayak, and paddled back to the dock. Problems and misadventures aside, it’s good to be back on the water.