Farewell to Friday Night Lights

As far back as I can remember, it all started with the Growing Pains series finale. I was just a 15 year old boy at the time, experiencing actual growing pains of my own. The Seavers moved out of their house for some forgotten reason, and the last scene saw the family looking back at the empty house through a half open front door and saying goodbye to the home they had known for so long. Tell me you don't know how to finish the chorus "As long as we've got each other...". Maybe it was because I grew up with sisters that had Kirk Cameron plastered all over their bedroom walls, but Growing Pains was my first emotional series finale. Losing the Seavers reminded me all too much of many friends I had growing up that eventually moved away. There is a certain finality and sentimentality attached to all series finales that seems to tear at me. It's weird, I know, but that's just how things are.

Last year I was able to pull through the loss of 24 and LOST knowing that I still had The Office and Friday Night Lights to pick up the pieces and put me back together.

However, tonight I am forced to bid adieu to another dear friend. The lights have gone out in Dillon, Texas. The musical montage introducing the series finale made me lose it entirely. It's more than likely that I invest way too much emotion into fictional plots and unreal story lines, but I have to appreciate writers and actors that can evoke a real sense of sentimentality from their audience. It baffles me because I'm not an extremely emotional person in real life.

Farewell Friday Night Lights. Thanks for the memories.

Brooklyn Chronicles #1 - Free Agency

Brooklyn employs every trick in the book to avoid going to sleep at night, and when those tricks don't work, she creates her own tricks to add to the book. The other night after 'lights out' Brooklyn asked if I would stay and talk with her for a couple of minutes. I obliged, and eventually we got to talking about some of my experiences in college. The kid is good, and somehow knows how much I like to reminisce about those days. Anyhow, further down the conversation I asked Brooklyn, "Where do you think you'll want to go to college when you're older?" Her quick response was, "BYU". As pleased as I was with her response, I couldn't help but notice a look of confusion come across Brooklyn's face as she followed with, "Wait a minute. Do you mean I get to choose?"

We then discussed how, outside of college, she'll never be allowed to live outside our house. Brooklyn wasn't buying that, telling me that eventually she'll get married and have her own house. Thankfully, she continued, "But don't worry Dad, I'll get a house in the same neighborhood, maybe just down the street."

My 7-year old Sailor

So over dinner Brooklyn slipped and used the word 'butt'. She caught herself and changed quickly to 'bum', knowing that we don't use 'butt' in our house. But the whole line of conversation triggered a conversation she had at school earlier in the day. Brooklyn then chimes in, "a boy at school tried to convince me that 'sh*%' is a bad word. I told him that 'sh*%' is not a bad word. 'Sh*%' isn't a bad word is it, Dad?" By this time my 7-year old daughter had dropped the 'S' bomb 3 times before I picked my jaw up off the table and could recover with a response. I told her the 'S' word was an extremely bad word that should never be used by anybody. Brooklyn, now shocked, quickly retorted, "then why when we're talking about the breed of dog, to we say Sh*% Zhu? A logical question that deserved a logical answer. It was then when we had to break down the spelling and correct pronunciation of the breed of dog vs. the spelling of profanity. Just not a conversation I was anticipating for at least another few years. Whew!

Dish Washing Blues

As I stand at the sink washing dishes, I can't help but engage in some old-fashioned self-loathing and yet, at the same time, marvel at the genius of Pampered Chef. You see, I'm a not so proud owner of a cutting board cover. 'What on earth is that?' you ask? Well I'll tell you. It's a decorative plastic cover to put over your cutting board so as to protect the cutting board from being...well...cut upon. I used to mock my neighbors for possessing such an obviously unnecessary accessory. Now all I can do is resurrect this blog and absolve myself of the shame I feel each time I look at the thing by admitting to the world that I have been duped.

It's a phenomenal business innovation concept though. My goal now is to find other such seemingly ridiculous inventions and exploit the naive public. My list is short for now, but if you have other ideas I would be happy to put together some kind of joint venture (60/40 of course):

1. Teeth covers - the mouth guard already exists but this is much different. It's like a synthetic cover over your teeth such that they don't get worn down by that pesky twice daily brushing. I will sell in bulk for those that brush more frequently.

2. Grass covers - this one may take more science than others in that I would have to develop more a spray that covers the grass and protects it from being cut when the mower goes over it.

3. Sock covers - how many socks have you gone through in the past year? With my new sock covers, you can double the expected life of your favorite socks!

4. Pillow Case covers - save your nice bed-in-a-bag pillow cases from the wear and tear of your oily or flaky head by investing in the peace of mind that comes from a pillow case cover.

Let's keep these ideas between you and me for now, okay?

Brooklyn On The Mend

It's been nearly 4 weeks since Brooklyn's bicycle accident, and I'm happy to announce that she is healing very nicely and that she's 'gotten back on that horse' several times since then. Below are pictures of progress. Thank you to all who prayed for her quick recovery. It truly helped!

Exorcism That Didn't Take

I had gone more than 9 days with 1 fewer demon than I had known for the past 24 years. Evidently, demon vacation days accrue at a rate of .001 (do the math – it works), because on Monday night the ghost of Jack Clark, which had just stopped haunting my dreams 9 days earlier, was replaced by the harrowing gap between the front teeth of Jimmy Rollins.

The difference, this time, is that I only cried on the inside. The difference, this time, is that something broke inside me. The difference, this time, is that my eternal optimism took a hit from which I don’t believe it will ever recover.

I’ve taken that first step towards the Dark Side of the Force, you know where hatred and anger consume you to the point where no number of victories and thrilling moments can offset a loss as devastating as last night. My father crossed that line long ago, but like Luke Skywalker I always envisioned myself cutting off my dad’s hand and then converting him back to the Good Guys’ side. Instead, and sadly, the Emperor’s mission is complete.

Brooklyn Takes a Tumble

Just this Friday (9/25) Brooklyn suffered a bicycle accident. She had graduated from training wheels at the beginning of the month (while I was in India!), and is becoming more confident on two wheels with each passing day ever since. However, she got going pretty fast down the slope from where we live and momentarily forgot how to control her brakes. I wasn't there to witness the accident (thank goodness!) but Rachelle says when she got to the bottom of the incline she was going too fast to make the turn and ended up tumbling over her bike and flipping 2-3 times before skidding on the left side of her face to a stop on the asphalt. Blood curdling screams ensued, and Brooklyn quickly learned her foot was obstructed by her bike so that she couldn't get up. Rachelle raced to her, picked her up, and took her home to attend to her wounds.

She's handled the whole experience relatively well. She's been very subdued, though, which is just not right coming from Brooklyn. She opted not to play in her soccer game yesterday not because she was worried about getting injured further, but because she was concerned that people would stare and that kids would make fun of her. She did not want to go to church this morning, but we negotiated a deal whereby she could wear a hoodie sweatshirt over her dress so that if she wanted to wear the hood that was okay.

It is SO difficult to watch your child in that kind of pain. Both Rachelle and I wish that we could bear it for her. Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers that her skin will heal quickly and properly.