That Summer

I remember that summer...

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I went for a bike ride this morning.  Don't laugh.  I'm never going to a "bike guy."  You know the spandex -wearing, pad your crotch, shoes strapped to the pedals, billy-bad-butt that has a storage rack for his water bottle and a special section of his closet for bike clothes guy.  I'm not going to be the guy that holds up traffic so I can ride my big -boy bike in the road with all of the cars.  It's just not going to happen.

I actually liked the ride, though.  It was calm and refreshing in a way I don't usually experience.  Feeling the sun warming me, and the wind blowing against me was a great experience. But, the thing that really got me, were the smells.


It smells like summer.  I can't really put my finger on it.  It's freshly cut grass.  It's lawn sprinklers.  It's open garages and day old barbecue grills.  It's the smell of the humid morning air.  It just smells like... summer.

I coasted down a hill, closed my eyes, and let the air fill me.  It took me back to when I was twelve.  It took me back to when summer was not just special, it was essential.  It took me back to that summer.  It was my summer.   It was a simpler time right before we moved to Texas, and all was right in my world.

That summer was a time of independence.  It was a time of simplicity and innocence.  I had my brother and my friends and we lived it up.  I was too old to need a babysitter, but too young to care if girls knew how sweaty I got.  Sleepovers were the currency of friendship, and video games were life.  The cooler your bike was, the cooler you were.  The biggest things on my agenda were how many firecrackers to get for the 4th of July, and the next Nintendo game to rent.  It was a time where it mattered how many baseball cards a guy had, and saying cuss words made you feel a little taller.  Going to the movies without your mom was about the best thing ever. And when you got hurt, it was still okay to cry.


It was definitely that summer.  Eighteen years later, I'm still thinking about it.  I'm still hanging on to a piece of it.  It's still there.  Because, for a part of me, that will always be summer.  It will always be that summer.

On Turning Thirty

I won't quote the journey/ destination life quote until later...

My thirtieth birthday was over a month ago, and I'm still settling into it.  It is one of the "decade birthdays" so it's supposed to be a big deal.  The actual day was not a huge blow -out with all of my friends and family rocking all night.  I'm glad, because that's not my style.  It was a pretty normal day.  I got up, got the kids ready, went to school, and came home.  But, the aftermath of the actual day has been a little wobbly.

I feel like I am, officially, expected to be a grown -up. Mind you, this is coming from a guy who has been married for ten and a half years and has four children.  You would think I would be comfortable with a title like grown -up.  But, I'm not.  

Grown -ups are supposed to have their act together.  They are supposed to know what they want out of life.  Grown -ups are supposed to know how to change the oil in their cars, and teach their sons how to throw a ball.  Grown -ups wear khakis and loafers.  They say things like "What do you think about this weather?" and "Did you see that story on the news last night?"  They are supposed to be able to make decisions, balance budgets, and follow through on plans.  They are supposed to be, well, grown -up.

The problem is, I'm none of that.  I couldn't even pick out what kind of birthday cake I wanted.  Most of the time I feel like the same scared little boy I was twenty years ago, stepping up to the plate in little league baseball- unsure of myself and even the very rules of the game.

I'm not scared of actually becoming older.  Thirty doesn't feel much different than twenty -five.  I'm scared of becoming irrelevant.  I'm scared of being out of the loop, of being obsolete.   Grey hair doesn't scare me as much as not realizing that the only reason my son picked out a certain loaf of bread at the store, was because it had a picture of Wizards of Wavorly Place on it.

All this makes me wonder if I will ever, truly, be a grown -up.  And, maybe, that's okay.  Because if life is a journey and not a destination, then I'm going to be growing up for quite a while.


Special thanks to my amazing wife for growing up with me, and for making that special birthday cake.

Zeke On Food

One of the most rewarding things about raising children is the conversations you get to have with them. Some may be sad, some funny, and others priceless. Here is a conversation between my son, Zeke, and I on the way home today:

Zeke: What are we having for supper?

Me: Mommy is making broccoli and rice.

Zeke: (with the aid of younger brother, Eli) Uhhhhggggg! Whyyyyyyy? Ooohh? (Ad nauseam)

Me: Well, it's what we are having. You can eat it, or not.

Zeke: I just don't understand why you and mommy are trying to CHANGE my life. (With upturned palms, he shook his hands dramatically.) I will not eat this way when I'm a grown up.

Me: (wryly smiling to myself and expecting this to be beyond good) Oh. Well then, what will you eat when you are a grown up?

Zeke: First of all, I am only going to have a home cooked meal twice a week. Maybe once. Probably once. We will just get food from places. Japanese food is always a good choice. I will pick up some fast food for my family if we don't have any other plans.

On Sunday nights I will order pizza. ORDER it, dad. I am not eating the home cooked kind from the oven. (His concept of home cooked pizza is DiGiorno's, by the way.) The kind YOU (emphasis his) make only has eight slices, and we have six people in our family. The kind you order has more pieces than that. I will get some bread sticks with garlic and maybe a two liter. Probably a two liter.

Then we can just go out to eat sometimes. It's just that I don't like the word "healthy." (The dramatic hand shaking returns.) And I don't know why you and mommy are feeding us this. My plan for right now, when I'm a kid, is to start bringing a bigger lunch so I can get full before supper. I'll call it "Bigger Lunch."

Me: (I think to myself, "What can you say to a tirade like that?")

Eli: Can we stop at Taco Bueno now?

Photo Credit:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/katiew/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

"Would you like a side of guilt with that?"

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No, this isn't going to be about a new year's resolution to lose weight. Although I did manage to put on about five pounds since Thanksgiving, so that's probably not a bad idea. This is about a different kind of guilt- parental guilt.

Each time my family steps foot into the Golden Arches, I can't help but feel a twinge of remorse. We have gotten into the nasty habit of allowing McDonald's to be our meal. I say allow, because it is not always the plan to go there. Eating out was kind of a thing when I was growing up. It was a semi- special event that we often planned on. We would all load up, go somewhere, and sit down to a decent meal.

Now, eating out is a by-product of a a busy life. Fast food happens when we are running late picking up the kids from day care, or have somewhere to go in the evening. The kids sometimes get three Happy Meals a week during our busiest times. Those things can't be that good for you.

In addition to all the unhealthiness, I guess that a Happy Meal, for me, is a symbol for a hectic life. It represents the fact that it is hard to slow down and make time for certain things- important things like a family meal. It is hard to be a stop and smell the roses kind of guy in a go and weed the flower bed kind of world.

Lawning the Mow

You know how some stuff just sticks with you? Well, I remember driving in the car with my family one time. We were just cruising through a neighborhood. I must have been around ten or so. We were just going somewhere and we saw a man out cutting his grass. My brother got all excited and said "Look at that guy lawning his mow!" We all got a good laugh. Of course my brother had on his "Why Be Normal" hat at the time, so it all kind of fit.

I was thinking about this as I was out last weekend doing some lawn care at our temporary summer house. (Yes, I am writing this over a week later, but that is a different blog post.) I really hate lawn care. I mean I loathe it. I just genuinely despise all aspects of it. It's not that I'm opposed to a little hard work, or even being outside. I can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe because it was some of the first work ever done in the history of the Earth back in the Garden of Eden. It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

My earliest memories of lawning the mow are of my dad trying to show me how to do it. His neighbor needed his grass cut and I guess my dad wanted me to earn some extra dough. So next thing I know I am watching my dad show me how to pull start a rusty old Briggs & Stratton©.

He started mowing while I walked behind him and watched. He would stop every few minutes and holler something at me about what direction to turn, or how the throttle or something worked. You know how sometimes you just have to nod your head at people like you know what in the world they are talking about and just hope they don't ask you any questions about it? That was one of those times. I'm sure he had to explain everything to me all over again when it was finally my turn. Seventeen hours later I had the lawn finished. I don't even remember how much I made from that lawn, but I'm sure I frittered away on Nintendo© magazines and Mountain Dew©.

I had high school summer adventures mowing lawns with my good buddy, Kevin. I also mowed the university grass in college as part of the maintenance crew, including a place called the coliseum. Those were character building times in my life. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

I guess I have a weirdness about becoming a lawn guy. You know the type- the mow mid-week to keep the grass looking good guys. I'm referring to guys that talk about cutting their grass in in terms quarter inches. The guys who mow, then weed eat, then edge the sidewalks, then get the blower. These are the kind of guys that actually talk to other guys (usually other lawn guys) about their lawn.

If I had it my way, I'd be the opposite of a lawn guy. I want to be a dirt guy. I want a whole yard full of dirt. I want to get up every Saturday and go rake my dirt. One tool. One job. Neighbors would say "Hey Stortz, how's your dirt lookin'?" I'd say "Great. I think it's doing real well this season." I'd say that because it's dirt. How could it not be doing well? Nice and simple. I've got better things to do than worry about how my lawn is doing.

I've said in a previous post that my lawn was more "Malcolm in the Middle" than "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous." I'm pretty okay with that. And if my new HOA doesn't like it, I'll have a big pile of dirt they can help me rake.

What is keeping you going?

My frazzled edges are turning a crispy golden brown. Beyond the sheer, undeserved grace of God's will, these are a few things keeping me going right now:

1. Strong coffee


2. Re-runs of "The Office"


3. Escaping into Google Reader


Drop a comment about what's putting gas in your tank.

Joyless appreciation?

I know my mood lately has been less than upbeat. I have had so much on my mind lately. Life has been going by at such a breakneck pace and it's hard for me to take it all in sometimes. I feel like a '78 Pinto getting lapped in a NASCAR world.

One thing I keep going over is the relationship between joy and thankfulness. Although I feel I have been losing some of my joy, I still feel very thankful. I so appreciate all that I have been given- salvation, my wife, my children and family, my health, my home and life, and even my job...sort of.

I am thankful for it all. I know I am. For whatever reason, it just has not given me much joy lately. It's a wierd feeling. At first thought, these two ideas should have a positive correlation. As one goes up, so does the other. You would think. I guess I'm just not sure.

Thankfulness is not listed as a fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5, although joy makes the number 2 spot. After some examination, I can see a relationship between joy and hope according to Romans 12:12 and Romans 15:13. I haven't come across a similar relationship between joy and thankfulness yet. Should thankfulness inspire joy? Here are some things I have found out about joy for sure:

-Jesus had it
-Paul had it
-fruit of the Spirit
-you can lose it
-something we should always be full of
-can be filled with it by God
-things can give it to you
-it can be complete
-you can do do things with joy

I know I need to get some joy back. I guess I'm just in my annual winter slump. Joy and thankfulness...what are your thoughts?

Sometimes a surprise is better

People leave. It is a natural part of life. The longer you live, the more people you are bound to see come and go. As a teacher I have 20+ young people that come and go each school year. Some I get to know extremely well, and some not as much. Some kids are almost forgotten after a while, and a few kids I could not forget if I tried. But I always know I'll say goodbye when summer comes around. The end of school is as inevitable as the beginning. I plan for it. I work for it. In many cases I hope for it. It always arrives right on time. Saying goodbye is not a surprise. But, sometimes a surprise is better.

Every year there are always the "move aways." They start the year at one school and then move away to another. Parents will usually tell me a month in advance that they are moving, but sometimes it's a surprise. The parent will show up in the room, kids in tow, and tell me they are moving. They get their things packed up and withdraw from school. Occasionally I'll get a heads up a few days prior. Sometimes it's a nice surprise.

The hardest combination is when a student I love and adore dearly tells me that they are moving in two weeks. Two weeks? That is far enough out there to not be "soon," but not enough time to fully mentally prepare for it. It is just enough time to get really sad and down. This heartbreaking combination just happened to me.

Two weeks ago one of my sweetest and most precious students told me she was moving. She was actually in my class last year, but they are always "my" students. That first week I didn't really process it. It was just one more thing I did not want to think about. But this week, I could not stop coming back to it. I kept think about how much I missed having her in class this year. I was so glad I still got to see her every day in the halls. I just took it for granted. She is a very bright and capable girl and I know she will do well in any school. I'm not worried about her, I guess I was just thinking selfishly.

It was very hard to say goodbye yesterday. I didn't cry though. I was tough. I knew if I cried she would start crying too. She gave me a big hug and I gave her a little kiss on the forehead. We said our goodbyes and that was that. It's hard to say goodbye to someone you know you will probably never see again- especially when you have been mulling over it for two weeks. I think a surprise would have been better.

They Really Can't Hear You

I have never gotten it. I mean I've tried. The Lord knows I have given it time. My wife has been involved with it since middle school and my in laws are definitely into it. It's getting to be that time of year. It's a Texas high school tradition. Yet here I sit on a sultry August night under the Friday night lights of the local football game, and I still don't get it.

I have tried for years but I still find football to be about the most uninteresting thing going. All the running and throwing and chasing the little ball- I just don't see what all the fuss is about.

But the thing I really don't get are the "talkers.". You know, the people that sit in the stands and talk to the players on the field... Their eyes are fixed on the action and they start saying things like "C'mon defense!" or "Gittem 42!" or "Gawn hold em!"

I really don't get it. For the life of me I can't figure out who they are talking to. It's not the rest of the crowd because they are right there watching the game. It can't be the players can it? Maybe if I yelled at the players I'd like football more. Still, I can't help but wonder if the "talkers" know that they really can't hear you...

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01100-01001-10110-00101

Believe it or not, there was a time in my life in which I actually owned a pager and I wasn't even in the business of trafficking drugs. When my wife was pregnant with our first child, she wanted a way to get ahold of me immediately if need be. I was okay with this, but I was NOT going to have a cell phone. I can remember feeling so strongly about this. I was completely against having a cell phone. I used to think they were ridiculous and pretentious. So I decided to fight the establishment and I got a pager instead.

I have to think back and laugh at this. #1 for my hard head about embracing new technology (especially if you knew how much I love my BlackBerry now) and how silly the idea of a pager sounds today. But I know people still buy them. I saw a store advertising PAGERS! PAGERS! while driving through a hillbilly-ish town on vacation a few weeks ago.

Technology has come a long way in the last few years hasn't it? I was just laughing the other day at the thought of a dial up internet connection- do you remember that noise? I apologize if you heard that noise to actually get here... Mobile phones used to be bricks strapped to our belts or dead weights bogging down purses. And the thought of a car phone conjures up images of cave paintings and hunter- gatherers.

I have been very guilty this summer of bordering on technology overload. I have signed up for 19 different web services, installed over 15 various apps on my phone, got a new email address, overhauled my iGoogle page, created a Facebook account, designed a website for school, upgraded my BlackBerry's OS, and figured out how to make and save .png images with transparent backgrounds. I'm also wearing suspenders and a pocket protector now.

I have had so much fun this summer discovering all the crazy stuff out there on the web. It truly is amaizing. Lately though I feel it is getting to be a bit much. Behind all the 1's and 0's of binary code there are actual, physical people. And that's what all this stuff is for, right? It's all about relationships. This is supposed to keep us connected. As the new school year begins to get rolling, I know I need to start putting all of this into perspective. Granted, it is a lot of fun, but it is all a means. I need to learn to log on without tuning out.

By the way, the title of this post says "Live" in binary code.

Mr. Mom

Do you remember that one? Classic. I love this movie. I have not seen it on TV yet this summer, but I'm looking. I should probably break down and just buy it, but I'm cheap. Favorite line: "My brain is like oatmeal. I yelled at Kenny today for coloring outside the lines! Megan and I are starting to watch the same TV shows, and I'm liking them! I'm losing it."

This summer as my wife finishes up teaching summer school, I can relate to Michael Keaton's character Jack Butler and his plight. It is not that easy staying at home with the kids. They're always. . . around. And they need stuff- food, clothes, playtime, diapers, love, attention. The problems come when they don't get one of the above at the exact second they want it. I got my wife a Mother's Day card that read "I childproofed the house, but they keep getting back in." I don't think the kids got it.

Conversation is definitely one sided. Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy- get me, get me, get me, get me, get me- no, no, no, no, no. But I just pray for patience and wisdom and try to realize that I am touching the future. At least that's what I read on a T shirt.

But truly, deep down, it's great. I am absolutely in love with my three amazing children and wouldn't trade being a dad for anything. It is such an incredible responsibility. I am sad that some dads miss out on really being a father. Sometimes my wife or I will get a comment like "Oh, it's so nice that you are watching the kids." To that I always have to say "Well, not really. I'm not a babysitter. I'm their dad."

Picture courtesy of www.videodetective.com

Styrofoam sin

Ahh, the bi-monthly Saturday ritual- mowing the lawn.

As I was out cutting the grass, a tiny piece of styrofoam caught my eye. Now my lawn is definitely more "Malcolm in the Middle" than "Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous" but I bent over to pick it up anyway. I noticed another piece a few feet away. Then another, and then another. I realized that I must have shredded a cup underneath the mower without realizing it.

I spent the next minutes grumbling as I picked up the pieces. If I would have just been more careful, I could have simply picked up the little cup before it got chopped up. Instead I found myself bending over to get a squillion little pieces of styrofoam.

But isn't sin just like that? One lie, one lustful thought, one cheat- one little sin can turn into many shredded pieces in our lives just like that. The bible says in James 1:15 that "after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death." The more you allow sin to spread and grow, the worse off it is going to be. The more it is left unchecked, the more pieces get strewn about. It is so much easier to stop it before it starts. Don't let the enemy even have a foothold.

Lord, give us all the strength to pick up the little cup before it is shredded all over the landscape of our lives.

Change

The reunion is not as altogether unpleasant as I thought. It is not altogether pleasant though. It's always a little awkward when you haven't seen people in this long. But, it is nice to share a few laughs and catch up with some old friends.

10 years later and here we are. I am glad that so many people have matured. I guess a decade will do that to you. Cliques and groups kind of fade away. You just don't have the time or energy for that anymore. I mean, who keeps a grudge with someone ten years out of high school? I was very surprised at some of the people I talked to. I had some great conversation with a few guys that I almost never talked to in high school. It was cool.

I guess what I'm trying to say is people are people. They mature and grow, but we all have difficulty actually changing. The old adage is definitely true: the more things change, the more things stay the same. And outside of God, people don't truly change. They can't.

The scenery is nice though. . .

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10 years

Wow! I can't believe I'm heading out soon to the 10 year high school reunion. An entire decade. It sounds like a lot when I say it like that. I'll stick with ten years.

I'm glad to say they were not wasted years. Let's see... since I graduated from high school I have become a believer in Jesus, got married, graduated from college, had 3 kids, moved to the 'burbs, and got myself a career. Not too shabby, Gabby. I have the Good Lord to thank for all that.

Well, we'll see how it all goes. It has been quite a while since I have seen some of these people. Better go hit the yearbook and get myself refreshed.

When you realize that you suck

Every once in a while it will hit me- I suck. I mean little things happen every day that make us all think that, but I mean deeper. I mean a gut level internal knowledge that every natural thing about you is messed up on some level.

Apart from Jesus there really is no good in me at all. I think sometimes there is some good in me. But no. There truly is none apart from Him. Every little bit of goodness in me is a gift from the heart of the Master.

Thank you Lord for not giving me what I deserve. Give me the strength to extend this to the others in my life.