Be the difference

I love love.

I like likes.

I hate hate.

But I am not indifferent about indifference. 

Get involved. Make a difference.

Of bright and scary brains

Cheryl tells me that I need to unpack the post below a little (which is a nice way of saying she couldn't figure out what the heck I was trying to say). It is a little dense, I admit, moving too quickly from one thought to another without appropriate thought-linkage.

The awkward (poorly explained) transition is here:

"And thus, back to the quote, which I had always aligned with those who are in a position of great financial wealth....For of those to whom much is given, much is expected.

And so, conveniently, self-servingly, I wondered: for those among us who are just occasionally jerks and not consistently one, when we say something hurtful, does it sting more than someone from whom much less is expected? 

The twist is moving from viewing that statement in terms of wealth to viewing it in terms of respect and positive personal attributes. If someone says something about me, but I don't respect them to begin with (think certain Presidents or bosses), it doesn't hurt as much as it would coming from someone I love and/or have great personal respect for, from someone to whom much (of my respect) is given.

Okay, it was kind of a stretch, but that was where my mind wandered and contorted to, and such is the peril of the reader, getting a glimpse inside the scary maze in my brain, with its many dark, occasionally gloomy, occasionally blindingly bright, paths and corners.

"For those to whom much is given, much is expected."

- President John Kennedy

(or Luke 12:48: "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required.") 

This past Sunday, that thought kept trying to sneak, eventually successfully, into my large head. It kept trying to squeeze in there among the noise generated by an interaction I'd had two nights earlier with someone who means very much to me (No, not Cheryl), when she misunderstood a few texts I'd sent her, thinking I was being uncaring, when in fact, the intent was the direct opposite. (One of many reasons I hate texting, so maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophesy.)

As I tortured myself that morning, reliving what I'd done, trying to figure the best way to make things right, I must have paused long enough to give some legroom to John and Luke's words.

I am a sensitive guy. For better and worse, and to the possible surprise of some folks who have heard me be too blunt...okay, completely tactless...I really try to be very aware of people's feelings, careful to replace my verbal divots when I go too far. And on the other side, it doesn't take much more than the slightest of slights directed at me to set me in a tailspin, sometimes for hours, sometimes days, wondering if their critique of me has merit, forgetting that no one is liked by everyone, no one's opinions are universally shared and that it's okay to ruffle the odd feather, especially mine.

So, to trot out another of my favorite aphorisms, in the category of Sometimes our greatest strengths are also our greatest weaknesses, such is the case with my sensitivity.

And thus, back to the quote above, which I had always aligned with those who are in a position of great financial wealth. Or to take it in another direction, on a sports team, when the superstar has just an average or even subpar game, everyone howls, but when the guy at the end of the bench has the same numbers, we are thrilled by his big game. For of those to whom much is given, much is expected.

And so, conveniently, self-servingly, I wondered: for those among us who are just occasionally jerks and not consistently one, when we say something hurtful, does it sting more than someone from whom much less is expected? Seems kind of obvious when I put it in writing. 

On the other hand, in a meeting that same Sunday morning, my friend Cate said, "Just because you mean well, doesn't mean you do well."

I have a feeling that is the better quote to explain my texting inadequacy. 

And back to trying to make things right to the person I upset, other than telling her how much I love her, I brought her home a big yummy cinnamon donut. Woulda worked for me!

I have a confession to make that, no surprise, puts me far outside the mainstream of current thought.

I hate memes.

I hate memes for the same reason I hate clichés: they are lazy. Well, I don't know if they are lazy so much as the person using them is. 

But...now that I've admitted that, I'll also admit to having been inspired by one. This one:

 

I saw that on the facebook page of one of my friends, whose page seems to generally consist of nothing but memes, and I read it, paused, and went on to something else. Then, about 3 days later, I woke up at precisely 6:10am (unusually early for me), and I had this thought coming out of whatever dream I'd just had:

If you are perplexed by what decision to make with some pressing issue in your life, the answer should always be:  

Choose Love. 

And if that answer doesn't fit, then neither the question, nor the answer, are really all that important.

A Valen-timely message for my girl

I realized the other day, as I heard someone pontificating at great length, that the longer someone talks, the less I hear them.

And later, as I was reveling in my proud observation, I pondered it further to realize that it's also true of food - the longer I eat something that I really love, the less I appreciate it.

I went on to realize it applies to a great many things - when I bought my first house, I remember sitting in my car in the driveway and looking up at it in wonder; when I first buy a car, I love admiring it and discovering new things I love about it; when I stare at beautiful scenery, same thing; but eventually in each case the beauty and my wonder and my admiration begins to fade.

But...I then went on to realize that the longer I live, the more I like it and the less I take it for granted...and the more I want of it.

And the longer I'm a dad, the more I recognize after 21 years of it, that it's my favorite thing ever.

And most importantly, the longer I am married to Cheryl McVickar, the more I appreciate and admire her, the more I discover more reasons I love her, the less I take her for granted and the more I realize that she is my favorite person ever.

I love you, Cheryl McVickar. Happy Valentine's Day!

Thus the Title

With Election Day getting closer and closer, and the anticipation and excitement building and building, I found myself thinking about how, as much as I am enjoying the build-up - the latest news impacting my side as either a pro or a con, and the daily reports of the latest polling, and tracking it closely every single day on spreadsheets and in conversations with like-minded friends, I mostly just wish so much that Election Day would hurry the heck up and get here.

But then I thought about the feeling I get afterwards and the loss of that excitement and anticipation and how quickly I revert back to my day-to-day routine, with only an afterglow and the memory of what a really, really good time it was, the leadup and the actual climax of seeing the voting results in the races where my team was successful in its conquest and accomplishing their goal.

And it struck me how similar politics, sports and sex are.

Don't plan to be again in my 70's though

I heard a weather report the other day that called for tomorrow's temperatures to be high in the 70's, and I thought, well, how about that. So was I on occasion.

I mean other than sex?

Is there anything that fascinates humans as much as other humans?

life again imitating art

My Dad used to tell us that the biggest challenge in watercoloring was convincing yourself to stop.

It struck me recently that the exact opposite is true of getting to the gym.

Ain't life grand?

We can use colors to clash horribly or merge beautifully.

We can use words to express opinions that make people turn ugly and defensive or we can use them to make beautiful poetry or literature.

We can watch a human being walk into a school and rip 17 kids to shreds with bullets and hate and in a matter of minutes, lifetimes will be impacted forever, sometimes in immediate death, sometimes in emotional scars that last a lifetime.

We can look outside and see delicate snowflakes gently floating down to earth juxtaposed against a background of the pink buds of a tree in mid-April bloom.

Thus is the beauty, ugliness and confusion that surrounds us and challenges us everyday.

Not to mention a gift to civilization

Harvey Weinstein probably used to think of himself as God's gift to women. Given all that has happened around the world with the #MeToo movement, I'd have to agree that at great cost to the victims, he was exactly right.

I like to think the left is the feminine side...though i also prefer the feminine back side

Interesting that it's considered a compliment among my female friends to observe that a man seems to be in touch with his feminine side but if a man were to tell a woman that she seems to be in touch with her masculine side, it would be an insult on multiple levels.

Not saying I disagree, just interesting, and a little revealing, about just what is open to interpretation.

And there's the (back?) rub

Wow. 6 months later. And here now, 6 months worth of deep thought:

It seems like women in particular and semi-stereotypically, as opposed to men that is, put a lot of emphasis on judging whether they want to sleep with a man by how he treats her leading up to that decision, when the better test of a man's character is how he treats her after they have slept together.

There's probably a joke that could follow as to having things ass-backward, but that's an image that probably isn't appropriate in this context.

A sense of where I am

They tell us that as we get older, our sight diminishes. Then why do I feel like I see so many more things than I did when I was a boy? The colors, the shadows, the souls of those I love and particularly those I don't.

They tell us that as we get older, our sense of smell diminishes. Then why do I feel like I seem to enjoy the smells of so many more things than I did when I was a boy? The flowers, the honeysuckle and Cheryl's amazing meals cooking on the stove?

They tell us that as we get older, our sense of taste diminishes. Then why do I feel like I seem to enjoy the taste of so many more things than I did when I was a boy? Tastes dramatic and slight, foods exotic and familiar.

They tell us that as we get older, our hearing diminishes. Then why do I feel like I seem to enjoy the sounds of so many more things than I did when I was a boy? The giggling of children, the cutting of a skate blade on ice, the wind blowing through the trees and their leaves gently settling down on the ground.

They tell us that as we get older our senses erode. But I feel like I have a better sense of the glory of all that surrounds me, of how wonderfully lucky I am, the value of the incredible people in my life - friends and family, than I ever have. I value the sounds of silence as much as I do the joy in the voices around me; the sight of a beautiful woman as much as I do the changing colors of the leaves this month; the taste of a good cheesesteak and the subtle seasoning of a pile of truffle fries; and even the touch of or by a fellow human, whether in the throes of passion or a gentle touch on the arm.

Ain't life grand?

Thoughts of Pain and Joy

Somehow, given what happened in Las Vegas Sunday night, it just doesn't seem right to post anything here that doesn't in some way speak to it. Events like that usually take a while to hit me fully. At first when I heard what happened, I had the usual thoughts of "Oh no, not again." And I watched maybe 10 minutes of coverage to get the overall sense of what happened, but then found myself annoyed that my favorite morning show - Morning Joe - had been taken over with this story.

But then, as yesterday wore on, I found myself getting sadder and sadder, just past melancholy (sounds somewhat appropriately like a country music song title).

It's been a bad month or so lately:

- multiple massive hurricanes
- an equally devastating earthquake
- the sudden death of Ted, our good friend of 45ish years, his memorial service/celebration the day before the Las Vegas shooting
- my seeming to too often upset people I love without my always understanding how or why or certainly, intention
- and also sometimes being upset by people in my life, mostly just because I'm too damn sensitive

And now this awful shooting spree. It's hard to know whether to try to look past these things and focus on the many good and positives things in my life and in the world, or whether to stop and feel the pain of those impacted, honoring and validating their losses. And try to do what we can to either help alleviate their pain, or to do what we can to keep them from happening again.

I guess I'll just try to do my best to do all of the above. 

When I got home last night, I had planned to have a drink with Cheryl down by the pool to process all sorts of thoughts about these and many things. But instead I was surprised almost immediately by my awesome niece, Becca and her dad Richard who were here for our friend's life celebration and who I thought had already left.

And so, we all spent the evening in each others' company - Cheryl, me, Becca, Richard, Laurie, our recently deceased friend Ted's son Beau and his girlfriend and a variety of others.

And I am reminded of the value and importance and primacy of the need to surround ourselves with those we love as frequently as possible. And feel the pain, and laugh and revel in our joys, and try to do better every single day.

Here's some advice: Don't take advice

I was talking with a young friend and co-worker today, let's call her Monica, because, well, you know, about us middle-aged guys giving advice to younger people. I was telling her that I've often thought about starting a website called www.aphorisms.com (Hey - still available for just $3495!), which would consist entirely of, well, aphorisms, gathered from anyone who wanted to submit a lesson learned or advice on various subjects that always seems to fit certain situations. Or maybe I should call it www.WhatYaWannaDoIs.com. That one seems available for nuthin!

And in reply to my idea, Monica said, "But do you ever really learn from taking advice? Isn't it better to learn something on your own than to just take someone's advice?"

I loved her observation so much, I told her I would make sure to add it to the website.

(Dang - now I can't get the Magilla Gorilla theme song out of my head.)

Maybe not every boys' dream, but mine dammit

Hugh Hefner died yesterday. I see where he was quoted in 1967 in Time magazine as saying: 

‘I’m living a grown-up version of a boy’s dream, turning life into a celebration.’

Me too, Hugh, me too.  In his case, he had everything to do with that. In my life, Cheryl and all our amazing kids and my friends and extended family are totally responsible. 

And even though one can argue that he had way more than I ever did or will, I had the more important thing - a life filled with love and easy trust of the people around me.

Of course there are times Cheryl and I are alone together when I'd prefer they maybe weren't with us just then

A few weeks back, a 90+ year-old friend, let's call him Gerry, since that's his name, rose to speak in (Quaker) Meeting to say that he had read an obituary recently where it said that the deceased had gone to be with the Lord, leading Gerry to wonder why the Lord hadn't been with the fellow before he died too.

I told Gerry that of all his messages I'd heard him share in Meeting over the past 60 years, that was my favorite.

I have a similar question. Why, when someone dies, do we say that the person "...is no longer with us?" In some ways, my Mom and Dad are with me more now than they were when they were alive.

And I suppose by some measure they are still alive too, if only in my heart.

Figuratively speaking, that is

I wonder sometimes if anyone literally knows the definition of the word literally.

Alternative alternatives

I guess I first realized I was out of touch with the country's mainstream views back in the late 1960's when I was 12 years old and I realized that people who watched Hee Haw actually laughed at the show while I laughed at anyone who did.

First ever segment here of Hee Haw (please don't tell me you laughed at any of it)

As time goes by, I think I am getting even further out of the mainstream. For instance, on these topics, I don't think my view is the same as either the left or the right:

Confederate statues - If I were a Southerner, I wouldn't be leading the fights to keep them up, I'd want to have them taken down from the embarrassment of what they mean. As a Northerner, I can see an argument for wanting them to stay up to show people exactly the kind of racist, subhuman mindset that thought owning other human beings for your own economic benefit was just or moral by any definition or rationalization. And maybe selfishly, I might want them to stay up to remind those knuckleheads that we won, dammit, and that Good won over Evil.

Colin Kaepernick - When I see him protesting during the anthem, if I were a military member, I would take pride that the causes I put my life on the line to protect were there in all their glory, like the right to free speech, including protesting one's government, which would get people killed or thrown in jail in much of the world.

Sports teams named after Native American Indians - Given the way Indians have been treated since the day we Euros arrived on these lands, we have treated them even worse than African Americans in many regards. To name the groups many of us most revere - our sports teams - after Indians could be seen as a high honor, keeping the memory of their history alive, when most people choose to ignore them. That said, words do have meanings and a name like "Redskin" needs to be changed.

Maybe older, but still mahvelous

At a certain, age, losing weight makes one feel younger and look older.

It's worth it, no matter what Fernando Lamas thinks.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0RTD7250II

Of Emma Watson's boobs (semi-clickbait alert...as if there weren't enough Emma Watson and boob references in the post already)

A facebook friend of mine, and a former high school big-time crush, let's called her Selden...since that's her name...recently posted this column on her page from Huffington Post...

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/emma-watsons-boobs-prove-why-we-still-need-feminism_us_58b8bd55e4b02b8b584df9f4?ncid=hpinst00002

(Inserting gratuitous Emma Watson Vanity Fair pic here. Hey it's in the HuffPo story too!)

...and asked the question on FB: "Would love to hear thoughts from my women friends, young and old, on this article. Is baring your boobs consistent with feminism?"

...and the first response to her q was this:

This is a really interesting question - I think I have sort of noticed two completely different strains of feminism: for simplicity's sake I'll call them American and European. European feminism is about women owning themselves completely, including their sexuality and the power that their sexuality, and other peoples' response to it, gives them. There was an excellent essay by a Swedish model who came to the United States - I'll try to find it and share it. On the other hand, the American version of feminism seems to be primarily about asserting women's absolute equality - almost to the point of non-differentiation - with men, and which looks severely askance on women who use their "feminine charms" as an asset, if you will, to shape the world around them. What do you think?

And Selden responded:

I think I always bought into the American version, believing in absolute equality, and also feeling that if you didn't want to be objectified by men, you shouldn't dress in a way that flaunts your sexuality. But I find this article to be intriguing and leads me to re-think things a bit. The idea that women should have freedom to be whoever they want to be, whether it's being a sexual being, or something else, makes some sense.

And this is what I soon added, even though I didn't qualify to answer, not being of the societally-defined feminine variety:

This is a topic I've thought a lot about, actually, and not JUST in terms of Emma Watson's underboobs. And it fascinates me. I think women just have about a 10% idea of just how much power they have and how superior they are to men in every way except physical strength. I know that isn't the point here, but it is part of it. There is nothing wrong with femininity! Well, except how hard it is to spell. It can be a tool of power...or not. It bugs me that people still see it in any negative way. Or that only women can embrace it. I showed someone that just for fun once with my wife, we painted my toenails a pretty bold red and the person said "You are obviously so secure in your masculinity" to which I said "Wouldn't it be cool if one could say that I was secure in or proud of my femininity?" And isn't a shame that until I wrote this just now, I was embarrassed to let anyone else know that we'd done that? I kept my toes covered for weeks, not wanting to remove the polish, until I finally took the time to take it off. Thanks for asking, Selden, and I loved your input too, Deirdre. Very interesting.

(Not mine unfortunately)

My fear is that by saying that "...femininity as a tool of power...seems manipulative and dishonest" is seeing femininity as a weakness of some kind. If one dives deep, I see it as saying that there is something wrong with using all of one's gifts, whether they be intelligence or sense of humor...or physical attractiveness. I see nothing negative in using one's physical gifts as readily as using any other gift. Male privilege certainly draws from size. Taller people certainly have an advantage over short people. Studies show that kindergarten teachers give more attention to their best looking students. Not saying those things are right, but it will never change, so when women don't generally have the advantage of being as physically imposing as a man, isn't it fair to use their own God-given attributes?

I am semi-obviously a big fan/defender/supporter of femininity and I'll be sad if any trend toward total androgyny continues to grow. And I also wonder if women are embarrassed or unaware or ashamed of this power they have...which only keeps them from achieving the power and equality they incredibly still don't have on a par with we inferior quasi-masculine-types. 

But in general, as my sister Judy once said about men and women, though I'll expand it to masculinity and femininity:

Vive le difference! 

Why do we care if there is a God? 

The more I think about a possible answer, the less I care if there is one.

Or maybe they are the ones who listen and tell us what a dumb story it was

I wonder how often we tell stories that are more fun to tell than they are to listen to?

Our best friends are the ones who listen and laugh anyway. 

On the other hand, they might see a marketing opportunity for increased business from Trump voters

Somehow, an incredible 64,600 read my last post of 2016. (Yet in this blog's entire history, only 157,800 people have ever viewed any page of the entire blog.) I'm not sure why it was read 64,600 times, and I'm even less sure how it was that that many came across it, but seizing on such momentum in order to maximize my distinct and oh-so-valuable literary contributions to the world, I have made exactly one post in the 10 months since then, a post read by exactly 35 people.

So back at it this week then, with what I hope will be a series of posts coming from notes I've taken, often after a beer or three that I've memo-ed to myself into my phone, usually while down on our pool patio late into the evening while amongst friends, that will hopefully still make sense when I read them again fully sober. If not, I'll post them anyway, in case anyone chooses to read them after they've had enough beverages that maybe makes them more understandable. More understandable that is, than those last few sentences.

So my first post-worthy observation is simply this:

I wonder if the PTBs (powers that be) at the company Big Lots have mandated that every store manager, as his or her very first priority every morning when they come into work, check to make sure that the letter L hasn't fallen off their store sign during the night:

And maybe this thought is God's way of getting me to stop posting anything else

News Item:

"God Will ‘Take Care Of’ Climate Change If It Exists.”

Republican candidate Rep. Tim Walberg told a constituent last week that God can solve the problem of climate change if the global phenomenon truly exists:

"As a Christian, I believe that there is a creator in God who is much bigger than us. And I’m confident that, if there’s a real problem, he can take care of it.”

------

Makes me wonder if there are any religious fundamentalists who think that the increased visibility and acceptance of homosexuality is God's way of addressing world population overcrowding concerns.

OK, maybe not worthy of my first post in 6 months, but I had to post something to break the logjam.

Postscript to the Previous Post

(See post below, first.) On the other hand, I think I will write a little more about the impact of the election on me and the people I love. The other, currently inaccessible, entry has more to do with political wonky stuff. This one has to do more with my psyche.

The morning after the election was a dark day: for me, for all 4-6 kids, for my friends. I’m not including Cheryl here because she was already upset even before the election. She was so unnerved by politics in general, and I believe the Presidential race in particular, and what politics was doing to her, that she didn’t even watch the election returns. This from a delegate to the Democratic Convention just 4 years earlier. She was depressed about the election many months before the rest of us came to be.

But as dark a day as it was, I found it to be the perfect time to re-order my priorities. This is part of what I wrote on my Facebook page the next day, part of a much longer post that is what the other post-election blog entry will consist of: “So it’s back to basics. Back to connecting with each other. Back to making people feel validated in their life’s choices. Back to volunteering to help those who need it, from the old widow down the street who needs the leaves raked in her yard to helping feed people who have less than us, to, well whatever might be one’s passion. What drives you? How can I help? How can I help my kids help? What can I do to put a smile on someone’s face?

"I find myself feeling like I did when I came back from the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota a few months back. A need to re-focus on all that is good and most important. Re-prioritizing. So I learned that then…and apparently needed to be taught it again last night. I get it, God. No need to keep finding ways to beat it into me! I’m good. Thanks, though!”

And so since I wrote that, almost 4 weeks ago, how am I holding to it? I see it as a strong challenge to my Quaker beliefs – am I still able to see that of God in everyone, even supporters/voters/enablers of someone to run the world who has said and done the terrible things DT has? I need to, I have to, and so far I have.


I want to walk ever more peacefully upon this earth, with my family, with my friends, but in some ways even more importantly, with people I don’t know and may well never see or interact with again – the receptionist at the doctor’s office, the driver who cut me off, the person who posts something demeaning on Facebook.

And how can it be more important that I treat people I don’t know, as or more kindly than my family and friends? Because my F & Fs are already wonderful, loving, FORGIVING (of me) people. It is the people we don’t know who we need to set a higher standard for, both in how we deal with them but also in our expectations of them. I need to do my best to bring the best out of them.  That means driving more slowly, though certainly not too slowly! It means not just thanking someone for something, but taking an extra two seconds to throw them a smile – a smile that lasts past that fleeting second that goes with the thank you.

This actually happened with me a few days back, at the aforementioned doctor’s office. After I finished checking out – paying, getting a printout for bloodwork – I thanked the woman behind the counter, smiled, and just held it for an extra moment, while looking carefully into her eyes. And even though I’m quite certain that if that woman came up and sat next to me this very moment, I’d have no idea who she was, for that brief moment, I felt like I had a significant, kind human interaction with her. I don’t know if it had any impact on her day, but the return of her smile certainly made mine.

And that’s what I expect of me going forward. Not to dwell in the ugly negativity it would be so easy to slather myself with in the face of what happened November 8^th. But to use it as the proverbial wake-up call, challenging and changing my previous perspective, making the world a better, more positive, kinder, more loving place.

As clearly as it seems that 2016 has been one of our worst ever. I want the lessons I’ve learned, starting with Pine Ridge and continuing through the election results, to make 2016 the best year ever.

At least a little catchup...and hopefully a lot

So…two months since I last posted anything…and a lot has changed since then. Well, actually only one major thing has happened, which is that we have a new President-Elect. Not the one most of us expected it to be, though I did post on my Facebook page the Friday before the election that I not only expected Trump to win but that by Tuesday it was even more likely that he would win. As the next 4 days unfolded, I pulled back on those predictions, partially because of the FBI Director’s re-clearing of Hillary of any email wrongdoing, but also, I’m ashamed to admit, because of the virulent protests of my friends who were certain she would win by plenty. As can be said of so many more important decisions in one’s life, I shouldn’t have let their opinions sway my own.

What I couldn’t get rid of though, was a gut level feel that the passion for Trump outweighed the passion for Hillary, particularly in central Pennsylvania. And it led to my new political theory that the Presidential candidate whose voters have the most passion will always win. I believe that can be said of every winning candidate in my lifetime, at least going back to 1976, and likely even back to 1960 and beyond.

Anyway, the other thing that has happened recently, is that we were hit here at work with a nasty ransomware demand and at least for now, have lost all access to our saved files, folders, software, network and even the internet for 3 days, which wasn’t as bad for me as everyone else here as I was sidelined with a nasty cold, so I stayed home anyway.

So, since I have no access to any of those things at present, the beneficiary will be this here blog, where I will try to write up some entries I’ve put off for, well, months now. If I get some completed, I’ll save them and post them sporadically, so they don’t all crash through at once.

I had also started one long Election Reaction-based post that I’ll post later. I had saved it at work and of course, can’t get to it again yet.

Smoke on your pipe and put this in (West Side Story reference)

Karl Marx once said: "Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people".

Given the decrease in people’s attendance at churches over the past 40-50 years and the epidemic level increase in the use of opioids, I am starting to wonder if the reverse could now be true, as opiates now seem to be the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions…and the new religion of the people.

Or maybe it's Donald Trump.

 

 

So Dad maybe is STILL the Easter Bunny!

For posterity:

Soon after Trev was born, I wanted Dad to hold him and whisper some advice in his ear – some words to live by so I could remind him of it when he got older.

 

Dad thought for a minute and with me expecting something very profound, he said “Listen to your parents!”

To this day, Santa writes that on his thank you note for his cookies, and the Easter Bunny writes it at the bottom of the instructions to the kids for hunting for Easter eggs and presents at our house when they get home from Meeting.

Wise man, that guy.