Just Posted: Dating A Widower and More!

Just posted: Dating A Widower

As a former young widower, I receive a lot of email from people who are in a current relationship with a widower. Those who email me are often looking for some insight on the strange behavior these widowers sometimes exhibit and the challenges that come from trying to form a relationship with one. After several years of emails, I’ve noticed several issues that arise over and over again. In the hope that this can help those who are dating widowers (or perhaps considering it), I’ve decided to address the most common issues that arise.

Also, more college poetry. This is the last of it, I promise.

Thinking of Krista While Driving Through Wyoming

World View

Chasing Aidan

Aidan's learned how to play chase. I've been trying to teach him this game since he could crawl. Only this last week has he mastered the basics though he still doesn't quite understand all the rules.

He understands that if he runs away from me I'll chase him, eventually catch him, and tickle him. (That last part is his favorite.) However, if I try to walk away, he starts to cry as if he thinks I'm leaving and don't want to play anymore. Instead he wants me to stand next to him until he's ready to run away and then have me chase him.

I've tried to explain to him the game is more fun for everyone when I start to walk away then turn around and chase him.

Aidan's response?

"Gah goo ah dada!"

One step at a time, I guess.

Greece or bust

My youngest brother just found out he's going to be spending the next two years in Greece. How exciting.

I'm very envious.

Part of me wishes I could spend two years living abroad again.

The BBC Is Now The Ministry of Truth

terrorist -- n. One who engages in an act of terrorism. (American Heritage College Dictionary, Third Edition) terrorism -- n. The unlawful use or threatened use of force or violence to intimidate or coerce societies or government, often for ideological or political reasons. (American Heritage College Dictionary, Third Edition)

A previously unknown group calling itself the Secret Organization group al Qaeda Organization in Europe released a statement Thursday claiming responsibility for the London subway and bus bombings. -- CNN July 8

I was floored this morning when I read that the BBC re-edited some of its of its coverage of the London Underground and bus bombings to avoid labeling the perpetrators as "terrorists."

The more politically correct term?

Bombers.

According to the article

The BBC's guidelines state that its credibility is undermined by the "careless use of words which carry emotional or value judgments."

Consequently, "the word 'terrorist' itself can be a barrier rather than an aid to understanding" and its use should be "avoided."

This is chilling story on several levels.

First is fact that the higher ups at the BBC are unable (or unwilling) to an act of terrorism for what it actually is. Rather than report the truth, the BBC would rather play it's politically correct games to appease who, exactly? The terrorists? (Excuse me, I mean bombers.) Do they think that using the term bomber instead of the word terrorist is going to pacify these people? It sounding more and more like Karl Rove was really on to something.

Second we have a news organization re-editing its own coverage to fit it's own political agenda. Is it just me or is there something eerily similar to George Orwell's 1984 going on here.

In 1984 the main character, Winston Smith, works for government's propaganda machine The Ministry of Truth. It is Smith's job to rewrite the past newspapers and magazines so they can further the political agenda of the Party and Big Brother

This process of continuous alteration was applied not only to newspapers, but to books, periodicals, pamphlets, posters, leaflets, films, sound-tracks, cartoons, photographs -- to every kind of literature or documentation which might conceivably hold any political or ideological significance. Day by day and almost minute by minute the past was brought up to date. In this way every prediction made by the Party could be shown by documentary evidence to have been correct, nor was any item of news, or any expression of opinion, which conflicted with the needs of the moment, ever allowed to remain on record. All history was a palimpsest, scraped clean and reinscribed exactly as often as was necessary. (1984, Chapter 4)

Maybe it's time we rename the BBC to something more appropriate like The Ministry of Truth.

Confessions of a Literary Snob

For several years I was a literary snob. Please don't hold it against me.

I've changed.

I attended LSA (Literary Snobs Anonymous) and am proud to say that I am fully recovered.

Let me explain.

I've always loved to read. For birthdays and Christmas the gifts I enjoyed the most were books. (It's still true.)

After I went off to college I discovered I had a knack for writing. Along with a host of Journalism and Communication courses I started taking several upper division English classes.

One of the problems with English classes (especially at the college level) is many of them have a warped view of what makes a good book. Instead of concentrating on things such as character development or plot, they focus on the writing style. Yes, much of the "great literature" they drone on about in upper division English courses are written so well no one can understand them.

But you're told who cares whether or not most people can comprehend what the author is trying to say. Good literature isn't meant to be enjoyed, only decoded.

Then you're given the secret literary decoder (a.k.a. literary criticism) to find out what the author really meant. Using this secret decoder ring you learn that Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass is really about inner feminine rage. The Great Gatsby? Incest. The Sun Also Rises? Environmental destruction. (Is it any wonder English majors have a hard time being taken seriously?)

I graduated college with a warped sense of what makes a good book, I made my way out into the real world.

Time passed.

I started dating Marathon Girl. Come to find out she's a voracious reader. (In the first six months of this year alone she's read 35 books.) On one of our good dates we start talking books. I ask Marathon Girl to name one of her favorite authors.

"Michael Connelly," she said.

I thought "Michael who?"

Not wanting to sound stupid after telling Marathon Girl I was fairly well read I asked her to name some books he's written.

Marathon Girl rattled off a long list of books.

I muttered something about reading one or two of them then quickly changed the topic of conversation.

The next time I was at a bookstore, I located some Michael Connelly books.

My well-read inner voice screamed "No! Don't touch it! It's not for those with a well developed taste in literature like yourself."

I started to read one of his books. My well-read inner voice shrieked and died.

The next thing I know I'm four chapters into the book. A voice over the intercom announced that the store was closing in 10 minutes. I bought the book (but tuck it under my coat as I left least anyone I know would see I bought). The next day is Saturday. By noon I had finished the book and that night was able to talk with Marathon Girl about it.

She recommended more books and more authors. I start reading them and discover many of the books "well read" people shun are actually quite good. The writing style may not be that of, say, Tobias Wolff, but books are enjoyable authors do a great job developing the plot and creating characters readers care about -- something more "literary" authors have a difficult time doing.

(Please note that I'm not saying an author can't write well and have believable characters and a good plot, I'm simply stating that many "great" writers get caught up too much on the style of their writing instead of substance of their novel. )

Anyway, this last weekend I finally caught up with Marathon Girl on all the Michael Connelly reading. I finished The Last Coyote and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Connelly does a masterful job of portraying a real but sympathetic character in detective Harry Bosch. This book is interesting because you see Bosch at the low point in his career -- he's on administrative leave from the LAPD, his house was seriously damaged by an earthquake, and his last romance has just left him. But instead of letting all this sink him into a depression, Bosch starts working on an the 30-plus-year-old murder case of a Hollywood prostitute who happens to be his mother.

Though English majors you may not be able to reek havoc with their secret decoder rings on it, it's a good, enjoyable read.

And thanks to Marathon Girl for opening my eyes to other good authors.

The Last Coyote 3 stars (out of 4)

Kudos to Tony Blair

Kudos to British Prime Minister Tony Blair's remarks to the terrorist attacks in London today. "It's important...that those engaged in terrorism realize that our determination to defend our values and our way of life is greater than their determination to cause death and destruction to innocent people and a desire to impose extremism on the world. When they try to intimidate us, we will not be intimidated...we will not be changed. When they try to divide our people our weaken our resolve, we will not be divided and our resolve will hold firm. We will show by our spirit and dignity...our values will long outlast theirs."

Let's hope that such strong words are backed up by equally strong force. It's the only kind language terrorist understand.

Stomaching Reality

There are some television shows I have a hard time watching since I've become a father. Not because their poorly written, acted, obscene, or just plain stupid (I do my best not to watch those shows anyway) but because of their subject matter involved horrible things that happened to children.

Saturday night Marathon Girl and I were watching a 48 Hours Mystery about a 13-year-old boy, Eric Smith, who killed a five year old named Derrick Robie .

It wasn't pretty.

The five year old was strangled, his head smashed with a rock, and finally he was sodomized with a stick.

Aside from being naturally repulsed how any human could do that to another person (especially a five year old boy), I kept thinking over and over again "What if that happened to Aidan?" That thought left me with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach for the rest of the show. What if one day Aidan went out to play and didn't come back? These are feelings I never had before when watching one of these shows.

During a commercial break I told Marathon Girl how I was feeling.

"I was thinking the same thing," she said.

We finished watching the show (Smith was denied parole) but the sick feeling stayed with me the rest of the night and I was left wondering if I'll have the stomach to watch a show with similar subject matter again.

***
At some point I'm going to have to talk to Aidan and explain that the world isn't always a nice place. I'll need to tell him never to accept rides from strangers and that there are people out there that like to hurt little children.

Even now I find myself taking precautions I never would have done before Aidan came along. Before we bought our home I checked to see if there were any sex offenders living in the neighborhood. (There weren't.) I go back to the sex offender registry every few months just to make sure none have moved in. (None have -- yet.)

But just because some sicko doesn't live in your neighborhood, that doesn't mean that Aidan or any of the other kids in the neighborhood are safe. Someone could drive through looking for prey, a neighbor could be watching from a window.

The world is such a big, wonderful place for Aidan . He's such a sociable kid. He's not shy around anyone -- even strangers. Each conversation, each cautionary tale will strip away his innocence a one piece at a time. I hope it will not strip it way completely.

As a parent there's nothing I can do other than be vigilant, talk with Aidan as he becomes old enough to understand such matters and pray that nothing happens.

Sometimes I wish we lived in a world were such precautions weren't necessary.

Technology killed the prank phone call

I received a phone call the other day. The scrappy voice on the other end of the line told me that the caller was still in stage of puberty where the voice is going from that of a kid to an adult. "Uh...this is Dave from...uh...Blockbuster. I'm calling about your...uh...overdue movies," the squeaky voice said.

Aside from the fact Marathon Girl and I don't have a membership at Blockbuster, there was something else that struck me odd about the call. The pubescent voice and the fact that the caller sounded like he was making this up as he went along reminded me of a novice prank phone call.

I decided to play stupid and see where the call would go.

"What overdue movies?" I said.

"You know...uh...those porno movies."

There was snickering sounds in the background.

Yep. Prank phone call.

"Oh THOSE movies," I said. "Has it been a week already? I didn't have a chance to watch 'Saucy in Salt Lake.'"

There was a pause on the other end. It wasn't the response the caller had been expecting.

"Uh...well...be sure to bring back all the gay porn too."

The comment was followed by sounds of muffled laughter.

"I've been meaning to tell you how much appreciate your recommendations in that category," I said.

There was another frustrated pause and more laughter. This time the laughter seemed directed at the voice on the other end.

"Just so you know, I have your phone number." I looked at the number on my caller ID and repeated the number.

"Oh crap," a voice said. It wasn't the caller's voice. It was younger and scared.

"Look, I'm not going to tell your parents." I said. "But you should know it's near impossible to make prank phone calls with all this telephone technology. Next time you might want to try a pay phone."

There was several moments of tense, muffled whispering.

"Sorry. We won't call again." the pubescent voice said and the line went dead.

After I hung up the phone, I realized it's been 10-15 years since I received or made a prank phone call. Caller ID, star 69, and other phone technology has killed prank phone calls. It's no fun making them if the person on the other end can track you down.

I wasn't much of a prank caller. I lacked the ability to be convincing because I would usually ruin it by laughing part way through the call. I wasn't a good prank caller. The few prank calls I did make were usually strange messages left on answering machines with fake numbers for people to call back. Yeah, that's what I did for entertainment when I was bored out of my mind.

It was Caller ID that officially ended the occasional prank call. I think it was my last year in high school when I prank called one of my friends. After I made the call, the phone immediately rang. "Thanks for the prank call," my friend said.

Of course even handedness denied any responsibility.

"I have caller ID," my friend said. "I know it was you."

Caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar, I don't think I ever made a prank phone call again. In fact, I don't remembered receiving many prank after that either. Technology took all the fun out of it.

What was most surprising about the prank phone call was that these kids didn't realize how easily their call could be traced.

The Most Amazing Pregnant Woman

My wife is the most amazing pregnant woman I've ever known. Take Sunday, for example.

We took a trip up to Sundance to see my brother who's working up there for the summer and writing his latest Broadway masterpiece.

After my brother gave us a little tour of the screening area and projector rooms, we decided to go on a hike to Stewart Falls above the resort. The hike was supposed to be less than a mile one way, flat, and very easy. However, we got lost on the road and ended up on another trail to the waterfall that was over two and a half miles each way and, in parts, relatively difficult.

Once we realized we were on the wrong trail, I asked Marathon Girl if she wanted to head back.

"Not a chance," she said. "I'm enjoying the hike."

Two and a half miles later we reached the waterfall (Yeah, I'm kicking myself for not brining my camera.), rested for 10 minutes then headed back. By the time we hiked back, Aidan was sound asleep, and my brother and I were fairly tired. Honestly All I wanted to do was go home and sleep for a couple hours.

Marathon Girl?

Flush with energy, she was ready to do the hike all over again.

Did I mention she's 25 weeks pregnant?

She's amazing. Absolutely amazing.