Bye Bye Bottle

A few months ago it was a sad few days at the Cole household. The one true love that our little dude had was the love of his bottle. I’m not talking a little crush here, but a true infatuation. We let him keep it longer than many people suggested simply because it was the one thing that immediately fired him up. The neighbors down the block could probably here him screaming when the clock reached 8:00 PM and we went to the cupboard and pulled out that bottle.

Matthew would quickly run all around the house to tell everyone inside that there was a bottle. It was the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think I had ever saw true joy before until that bottle came out of hiding every night.

We decided that we would take it away while we were out of town. We went to San Diego for a weekend and simply told him that we didn’t have it. He accepted that right away since he doesn’t get to have it at the babysitter’s house and he seemed to know that it was just something for our house.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a huge issue when we got home. He seemed to sense that it was coming. I think I took it harder than he did. For quite a while I missed the pure joy on his face and in his eyes that accompanied that nightly ritual. He’s since replaced it with other things that make him excited and happy. He loves it when his mom comes home from tutoring and reads him a story or right before bed time I give him tickle attacks and he returns the favor. Few things get him more excited than playing hide and seek. He even gets to the point where he tells me where to hide.

But I really miss that bottle. It seems unfair to take anything from someone who gets so much joy out of something so simple….it doesn’t seem right. In a couple of more months, I’ll probably be over it but I’m not sure why we punished me by taking it from me. Everyone should have a bottle, at least that is the view as I see it.

Sesame Street Bad for Kids!

In this holiday season, few things are scarier than the political correctness that seems to have taken over our every waking moment. It seems bad enough that people are not allowed to celebrate the holiday season in the fashion that they see fit, for fear that they will offend somebody passing by on the street. Christians discouraged from wishing strangers “Merry Christmas” or followers of the Jewish faith being ostracized for wishing others a “Happy Hanukah”. Where did society go wrong and why are we determined to make the world a one size fits all dreary place to live?

I’m not a very spiritual person, but I am by no means offended by others wishing revelers the holiday greeting of their choice. I’m just as likely to respond happy holidays to somebody wishing me a Merry Christmas, but not because I’m offended by the salutation they decided to bestow on me. I sincerely wish that they have a great day and holiday season, however they happen to celebrate it. For some of you, it may just be a few days off from work.

The political correctness bug really got me fired up when I learned that there were people in Australia trying to ban people dressed up as Santa Clause from shouting that oh so popular phrase “Ho, Ho, Ho”. It seems that there are some who think that is sending a bad message to the youth of today because of the glorification of the word “ho” by today’s gangsta rappers. It seems that if not protected, the children of today will believe Santa Clause is calling women whores. Come on people, wake up. Whether you believe in Christmas or not, it would really not be this time of year having Santa on every corner shouting “Ha, Ha, Ha”. Stupid. Period.

Since I’m on the topic, another waste of time is the suspension of elementary students from school for the audacity to play cops and robbers or any other game that requires students to use pretend guns. Sure, our climate has changed forever since Columbine and 9-11 but do we really believe that the next Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris are being created on America’s playgrounds because they are playing soldiers on the playground?

Maybe it is my small town upbringing that makes me naïve, but I seriously doubt that only people form small town Iowa communities with populations under 1200 feel the way I feel. Granted, Mom and Dad should be worried if their little angel suddenly comes home and says things like “I’m going to take a steak knife, cut out your eyes, and feed it to my guinea pig”. I agree that is worrisome. However, I do not agree that Susan giving a hug to Timmy on the playground is creating the next sexual harassment lawsuit that will have the TV news people and other talking heads spitting fire in twenty years. People today are too quick to keep others from showing emotion and expressing themselves all in the name of political correctness.

Perhaps the straw that broke the camel’s back (I know, here comes the PETA people—I’ve abused an animal) was when the US censors decided that the original Sesame Street episodes from 1969 to 1974 should come with an adults only warning: "These early Sesame Street episodes are intended for grown-ups and may not suit the needs of today's preschool child."

I didn’t believe it when I heard it several weeks ago on the radio. I assumed that I missed some vital piece of information and that they fessed up to some huge joke when I wasn’t listening. But alas, it seems that the censors have really lost it on this one.

Apparently watching the Cookie Monster eating cookies is responsible for me being fat (Today he says cookies are a sometimes snack). My mood swings come from Bert waking up cranky. Are those delusions that you are having? Those are caused by Big Bird and his occasional Snuffleupagus sightings. Don’t even get me started on the reason your house is dirty. That obviously occurred because you saw Oscar the Grouch living in such dirty conditions in his trash can. Or the reason I like to see people splashed with mud puddles while driving is because the cake chef used to fall down the stairs with his five strawberry cream cakes. Suddenly, I’m not feeling so cheery for the holiday season after all.

Bah-humbug! Anyway, that's how I see it.

http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,22857738-7583,00.html

http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/keeping-us-on-the-street-and-narrow/2007/12/01/1196394689031.html

Diversity

One of the things I think is great about living in a city like Las Vegas is all the diversity that is there. I know that everyone doesn't always agree with this, but I like the fact that everybody doesn't look like me. No, to the Panora haters I'm not referring to the fact that everybody there is related, so of course they look like each other. In Vegas, everywhere you go there is a different culture or religion or nationality. I like that.

I especially like that little Matthew has already been exposed to more cultures, ethnic groups, and languages than I had been in 30 years. I especially notice it in our neighborhood. We will take Matthew outside and there are always a group of kids playing in the street, or the grassy area. The best part is that even where we live there is a lot of diversity. Matthew is going to have a chance to be friends with people of different races, religions, sexual orientations, or culture that I even thought possible growing up in Iowa. Who knows what he will end up using that experience to do, but it is nice to know that he has been exposed to many different things. His options are literally wide open.

I want Matthew to grow up knowing that difference is good. I hope he doesn't just accept differences, but cherishes the differences that make everyone unique. I too often hear people talk about tolerance and acceptance, but for Matthew that will not be good enough. I want him to KNOW that unique is good.

I watch the news or read the paper and see the different cultural clashes going on throughout the nation. It's sad to think that so much bloodshed occurs all over the world over differences in religion, language, or culture. I personally do not think that it is the right of one group of people to impose their will over another group just because they can, but it appears to be happening every day. I know that this type of conflict has occurred as long as Man has inhabited the earth, but when will the fanaticism stop?

I hope Matthew grows up with the tools necessary to make a difference in how these perceptions are accepted, or rather not accepted, around the world. The greatest gift any generation is to leave the world better than when that generation arrived, I fear for Matthew and others of his generation, this is an improbable scenario. I just hope that we leave his generation something that is even near salvageable.

For Matthew I hope that growing up in the community melting-pot that surrounds our home gives him the opportunity to make the kind of difference that we seem to be blowing today. It’s an optimistic view, but that’s how I see it.

Friendly Pigeons

When Matthew was a newborn, I really thought he could poop. But that is nothing compared to the pigeon's that live around my house. I mean, we got some serious pigeon poop on our driveway every single day.

I don't consider myself easily angered, or very likely to just explode, but there is something about those pigeons that bring out the worst in me. If I'm talking about those pigeons, there is a good chance that I'm gonna use the F word in there somewhere. Don't get me wrong, I don't really swear all that much. Also, I'm not a prude. I like hearing the F bomb dropped in gangsta rap songs as much as the next guy. But these rodents with wings really get to me.

Those funky pigeons think they own the whole neighborhood. You can't even drive into the complex without narrowly missing one of them. It is really quite scandalous. I can't stand those frat-loving birds.

My 19 month old has quite a different impression of them. Every time he sees one he starts waving his arms, jumping up and down, and screaming "brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr". I calmly say, "yep, that's a finicky pigeon". He just squeals with delight. I can't blame him. He doesn't know any better. To him it's all fun because then I get the garden hose out and spray all the poop off the driveway. He loves that because anything to do with water just makes his day.

Meanwhile, I'm muttering under my breath, "those frigid pigeons". We've put up things to try to get them to roost other places, but it seems they just move to another part of the house. When we first put spikes up to deter them from roosting right above our walk and driveway, I was somewhat optimistic. That was before one of them laid and egg and somehow it ended up on our sidewalk. You guessed it, I got the garden hose out and washed it away. Apparently fantastic pigeons are protective of their eggs, because they came swooping down at me. Luckily for them, all I had at the time was a garden hose.

Meanwhile, I've decided to stop waging war with those frenzied pigeons. I think we should take advantage of our major tourist economy here in the Las Vegas Valley and make some of the tourists a deal they cannot refuse. From now on every time somebody comes to visit, as a parting gift, they receive two pigeons. Yep. That's the plan. All tourists will now take home with them two pigeons.

Imagine it, someone comes to Vegas from Spain. As they get on the airplane to head home somebody says, "Adios! Here's your two pigeon's". And Slam! the door to the plane closes. Ahhhhhhh.......another plane full of pigeon's leaving the city. It's not like it has to be somebody from Spain, they could be from say, China. Same scenario, as they enter the aircraft somebody says, "..........................". Well, I don't have my translation dictionary with me but it ends with somebody saying, "here's your pigeons" and a door being slammed shut. It's really a win win situation. Vegas gets rid of pigeons, and everybody else goes home a winner.

Anyway, that's the view as I see it (and I got to admit, the view on the driveway is a lot clearer).

Farewell

I recently had to say goodbye to an old friend. It wasn’t a person, but rather a building. Although just a building, its meaning is so much more. Tuesday morning I will be putting on a long sleeve shirt and tie and heading off to work. However, for the first time in five years I will not be heading towards Variety School. I will be heading to a different location.

Variety doesn’t seem like much. It is a dilapidated old building that has been serving special needs students for almost 55 years. It is constantly in need of repair with the foundation apparently crumbling wjith every step a person takes throughout. Nevertheless, to me, it has represented a lot more. When I moved to Las Vegas, I had no idea what might be in store for me.

At the time, I had no job although I did have an interview scheduled with the district. After the interview, I received a letter in the mail saying they were delighted to offer me a position in the district and that principals would be calling soon to schedule interviews with me. Although I did not know where I would be working, I was relieved to know that I would have a job in August. After working a few weeks for my friends landscaping business I knew that I didn’t want any more of that.

Several days later, the principal of Variety called and asked me to come meet with her to discuss one of several positions she had available. I was pretty stoked at the time because when she told me where it was, it was actually close to one of the few roads that I had heard of. I headed in for an interview not knowing what might be ahead of me. Pulling into the parking lot that hot July day I had know way of knowing that I would continue to be a guest in the parking lot for over 1000 more days over the next five years.

I don’t have a very good recollection of what the interview consisted of after that. I know that Variety was in the middle of summer school and my new principal took me around campus and showed me several rooms. In one room, she mentioned that the teacher would receive a prep buyout. Later, when she asked me which room I would be interested in I chose the money. Probably not the most auspicious start, but as an educator I was prepared to take all I could get. Since then she has told me that during the interview I wanted to prove that people from the country and city were all the same. I mentioned that we were all people and was confident that we could learn things from each other. She has since told me that she wasn’t completely convinced at the time, but decided to take a chance on me anyway. I'm lucky to have had that chance.

And what a chance it was. The past five years have been great for me. I’ve grown professionally as well as personally. I never anticipated being at Variety for five years. I assumed I would complete my two years that the district was requiring and then be on my way to teach Jr. High math or something. But something about the place stuck on me. The year I arrived at Variety there were six new teachers there. All of them left after that first year (including my wife). Still, a new year came and there I was.

The people at Variety matter the most. Sharing the success and failures with the students has been a great experience. Although it can be heartbreaking at times, it is definitely worth it for those of us who have been pegged to serve at Variety. Over the past five years, I’ve recommended the school to several of my friends. A couple have taken me up on the offer and others have stayed away. It certainly is not for everyone. But for those of us who have worked there and found ourselves wanting to leave but always having an excuse for staying, there is no way to describe it. Variety just becomes part of who you are. In fact, I’ve joked many times that I needed to leave because I was becoming known as “special school Greg”. Now is the time.

It’s with sadness and happiness as I begin my next journey. I don’t know whether I am off to bigger and better things, but I am off nonetheless. I’m not sure where this move will take me, but I do know that I’m taking away a lot more than what I drove into the parking lot with that day in July of 2001. You see, I moved to Las Vegas with only what could fit into my Ford Explorer but the memories and friendships I’m leaving Variety with could not fit into a fleet of trucks.

I know that Variety will continue as only it can. The staff there will continue to serve a population of students that few people are willing to take on. I hope each of them understands the significance and importance that each of them bring to the students at the school. For me it’s the difference that they have made in my life that makes my move so difficult. They do outstanding jobs, at one of the most difficult situations in the nation, and they do it willingly every day. For me, that’s priceless.

I hope that I gave Variety, and the people there, even a small percentage of what it gave me. It certainly deserves it.

At least that’s the view as I see it.

Gold Through the Rockies

Living in a big city, kind of makes you move along at the same pace as everyone else. It is easy to forget to take time to slow down and do things for yourself. The perfect cure for that is a trip through the majestic Colorado Mountains.

Most of you that know me realize that if you were traveling in my car you would most likely be listening to R&B or Hip Hop. The more "gangsta" the music is, the better. I like to cruise to new stars like 50 cent, Eminem or jam out to classic gangsta rap like NWA, Ice T, or Public Enemy. If you wanted to go out of the gangsta genre, then we could listen to more soft-core artists like Sir Mix a Lot or Vanilla Ice. As long as it's rap, I'll go along with it. Seriously, those of you in the know realize how I roll.

However, when I get on my 20th anniversary, 1995, candy apple red, Honda Goldwing that all changes. There is something about hopping on my motorcycle and taking off across the desert that brings me back to my rural Iowa redneck roots. Without thinking, I find myself tuning into the country radio stations. I guess it is the freedom of the open road that makes me want to slow down and take things a little more slowly and enjoy the sights, sounds, and smell of the open road.

In fact, I would encourage each of you to start finding things to do outside of the city. Pick a destination out in the country or possibly a lake. Why not visit one of the national parks that dot the country in every corner of the nation. I promise it will help start to put things in perspective. So the next time you, your friends, or your family have some time why not head out to the mountains, the country, or lake and head out for a nice heart healthy hike? Or if you are fat like me and allergic to everything from bug bites to dust mites-- grap your epipen, lather up with Off, grab a lawn chair and watch somebody else go for a hike. At least you will be outside and away from the city.

I owe my love of motorcycling to my parents. They had a Goldwing when I was growing up and I remember them going on little weekend trips. When I was 14 my father and I took off across Nebraska and into Missouri. He was on his Goldwing and I was following along with a learner's permit driving my Honda 400 CMT. I think my parents were pleasantly surprised, if not proud, when I began riding again. I think they enjoy hearing of my adventures and thinking about me heading down some of the same roads they may have traveled so many years ago.

I recently spent a few days touring part of the Rocky Mountains on my cycle. And as I listened to country music while driving down the Million Dollar Highway, it seemed like the lyrics were speaking directly to me.

One song in particular jumped out at me. The song was sung by Tim McGraw and is titled "My Next 30 Years". A few years ago, that song might not have meant very much to me. But at 34, I've started to realize that life isn't forever. The song made so much sense to me. I felt like some of the lyrics could have been written for me, or about me.

For instance, Tim sings, "My next thirty years will be the best years of my life, Raise a little family and hang out with my wife, Spend precious moments with the ones that I hold dear, Make up for lost time here ,In my next thirty years". As many of you know, I got married on my 30th birthday. So you can see the importance of those lyrics to me. Then on my 33rd birthday we found out that my wife was pregnant. Another memorable birthday for sure. Those lyrics really hit home and made sense to me.

The song also says, "Oh my next thirty years, I’m gonna watch my weight, Eat a few more salads and not stay up so late, Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers, Maybe I’ll remember my next thirty years". I could certainly get behind this advice. My vegetarian wife would like to see me eat a few more salads and maybe get rid of some of this non vegetarian belly. As an insomniac, I SHOULD get some more sleep. But I especially feel like this last line would fit especially well for me, "Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers". I think I can really get behind this. Of course, it shouldn't surprise anyone to learn that I'm going to substitute Countrytime Lemonade with Mike's Hard Lemonade.

After all, I am my father's son. That's the view as I see it.

Asbestos

I've decided that my next license plate is going to say ASBSTS. It's not because I have a particularly strong love affair with this cancer causing substance, but because I think it will leave plenty of people wondering what I am trying to say. People are not going to understand why someone would have such a strong feeling for asbestos. I mean, aren't license plates supposed to be for something we really have a strong stance on?

On any given day, you will notice many different personalized plates. I, for one, cannot keep up with what people are trying to say. I personally feel like I am somewhat of an expert on this subject because my family members have used them for years. Alas, I have been the main holdout until now. My mother has always had the plate "9A" and of course dad was "9asgary". There was no way I was going to be "9ASGreg". Wasn't going to happen. I believe my brother avoided using personalized plates as well. Oh, and don't forget "MAPARK" out at the lake. I'm sure the list could go on and on.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not hating on folks that decide personalized plates are for them. Some of them are very clever. Some of them even elicit a chuckle from me. I remember growing up, one of my friends parents had personalized plates and that was the only name I would call her by. She quickly memorized my plates and from that day forward, I was 089515S. Fortunately, it was her people would think was crazy.

The reason I find them frustrating is that I cannot figure half of them out. I don't know if people are Gator Hators or Gator Lovers. Do they want Bonds to break the home run record or not? Moreover, exactly which Chicago team do they support? Some even try to be intellectual. Of course, they go right over my head.

The state of Nevada randomly assigned me my current plates so I need to come up with a meaning for them I guess. Hmmmmm.....923PNC..... I guess we could try 9 23 year-olds puked and called it a day, or 92 3 year-olds peed in a cup. See, this is hard. That is why I like ASBSTS. People will spend the next 500 miles trying to figure out what it means. Those of them that do figure out that it stands for ASBESTOS will then be really confused. They will spend another 500 miles trying to figure out why someone would have a license plate that said asbestos. That is the goal, isn't it? How do you think I came up with the idea for this blog? Driving across the hot desert, you have a lot of time to think.

Personally, I think 923 people need a clue. Hey, it's my plate so that's the way I see it.