When Does a Child Become an Adult?

September is, without a doubt, the fastest month of the year around here. It's been a month since I've been here at all, but we've been so busy that other than at work, I don't know that I booted my computer more than once or twice in the past month.

What consumes so much time? And so quickly, no less?
Back to school, with it's tectonic schedule shifting, open houses to meet and greet (for the millionth time) the teachers, which carries with it Individual meetings for each kid with an IEP;
Music lessons start for three kids;
CCD starts for two kids;
Soccer season for two of the kids (four practices per week and two games...at least this year, for the first time ever, the four practices are on just two nights every week)
American Football season starts, which makes me look forward to sitting on my duff on Sundays
Autumn - my very favorite season - also starts, and being a bit more happy makes things go faster.

The eldest scion also went back to college about 15 nanoseconds before he and I came to fisticuffs. we fought the whole summer long. I've come to the conclusion that there's a reason why, when a male lion gets to a certain age, they have to leave the pride. Same goes for male elephants: they get to a certain age, and off they go. If they don't, someone's going to get killed.

The issue is one of biology, I think. In their late teens and early 20s, kids are thinking that they are fully grown adults. They are fully capable, able to drive and be autonomous, they can vote and serve their respective countries, they are in their majority. What they don't understand is how friggin' arrogant, stupid, foolish, and inexperienced they are.

Quote alert:
It's amazing how old kids are getting these days.
~Me

As I've gotten older and more gray, I went from being the "kid" around the workplace to being one of the senior members of the engineering staff. Of course, in my new job, I'm the kid again, as many of the engineers are either pushing or have passed retirement age, and I've got a few miles left on the tires before I get there.

But these days, I look at other workers in the office and regard them as kids up until the time that they are in their mid- of late-30s, it seems. Kids have gotten *really* old!

This is not to say that they are not excellent engineers (or workers in general, whatever the role that they fill), or that they are not smart and well suited or well versed at their jobs. They are in many cases truly excellent workers and assets to the company. It's just that my definition of "kid" has changed. And all of my like-aged colleagues and friends have thus far agreed with me.

Kids are getting older and older.

Here's a conversation with my kid, about a week before he set off for college:

Me: "I wanted to apologize for our argument yesterday. I started too aggressively, and when you postured and became defensive, I also became defensive; I reacted badly and escalated the argument, which you then reflected. You and I have to agree to be more considerate of each other. We need to give each other the benefit of the doubt, and not assume that we're trying to fight with each other. We need to be calmer, and treat each other with more respect, and try to not fight.

Him: "I can't promise that."

Me: "Moron (actually, I used his name, but this works pretty well), we really have to try to get along; we live together, and constantly fighting is bad. We need to treat each other with more respect and not be so aggressive with each other."

Him: "That's kind of my go-to response."

Now, here's a full-grown 20ish "adult", right? There are many examples of people his age starting families. He's a smart person - much smarter than average, really - but he's such a damn moron that he'd rather fight with me than not! This kind of boggles my mind.

Guess whose name is on the lease of the car that he drives? He pays for it, but guess who pays the insurance? Guess who fills out the financial aid forms that are required for him to return to school? His mother, actually, but she and I are a good team. Guess where he intends to return to when he's not allowed to be on campus at school (holidays, summer, and the like)?

Our tension is born mostly from his desire to sit and play video games pretty much all day every day while his mother and I work for the money, shop for the food, cook the food, feed him, and then clean up. He wants to come out of his room, eat food then go back to his room. The other household chores are for his younger siblings to do.

I (we), on the other hand, demand that if you're consuming resources, you're going to be contributing to the various efforts that get the house from one end of the week to the next. And it has always been this way in our house. I've often noted that I'm not raising children...I'm raising adults, which I will one day release into the world. They need to be fully functioning at that time. They've always had chores with the expectation to contribute to the family unit and household.

You tell me: is this an adult, or an over-grown child?

Kayaking in August

So a few weeks ago the wife and I bought these:

(image from wildernesssystems.com)

We've been spending quite a bit of weekend time finding new places to paddle and...well...paddling.

I thoughts I'd share with you a pictorial of our outing of this weekend (four or five hours' worth of paddling):

These are two views of the lovely reservoir that we chose this weekend. This is a 530-acre reservoir that, surprisingly to those of us just getting into this sport, is remarkably close to ot tiny home! Took us about 20 minutes to get there.

This is Mr. (or Mrs.) Cormorant. There were several of these suckers on the lake.

When I saw the number of swans that littered the reservoir, I was actually stunned. I have never seen so many swans in one day.

Cool plants:

By far the most spectacular fellow we saw up close and personal (I actually got within 25 feet or so when this guy decided he didn't like my stench):

We also saw a sizeable Osprey, which I was not quick enough to capture with my sub-adequate camera (most of these images above were taken by my beautiful wife), and a small hawk that flew low just over our heads with its breakfast in talon.

Go buy a kayak!

The Benefits of Lethargy

I know...what??

In fact, this conversation is a bit tongue-in-cheek, but I can't help arguing that lazy folks have done far more good for this world than they get credit for.

I have a vested interest in this argument, of course; I come from an exceedingly long line of talented and accomplished lethargists, and I find it distressing that conventional wisdom would have it that our people's (lethargists) collective contribution to the world is nothing other than waste of time, waste of opportunity, and a burden to so-called "productive" people everywhere.

You see it all the time; there are quotes and adages like, "Idle hands are the Devil's playthings" or this quote:

"Inspiration is a guest that does not willingly visit the lazy."
~Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

No, no, Pyotr! I disagree. I think that Agatha Christie had it right:

“I don't think necessity is the mother of invention. Invention . . . arises directly from idleness, possibly also from laziness. To save oneself trouble.”
~Agatha Christie

Remembering that I'm right now in a bit of a whimsical mood, let us look upon some of what I think that *we* think are great advantages of our lives today, and see what inspired these things...

When mankind felt too lazy to carry his own seeds and plants, he invented the hand cart (or what is today the wheelbarrow). A great gizmo, that.

Early fishers had a devil of a time keeping their faces below water long enough for a fish to swim into their mouths; they invented the fishing pole and promptly sat on the shore sleeping while fish swallowed hooks and waited patiently to be killed.

Sick of chasing down prey animals like the cave bear and slaying them with teeth and fingers, early hunters invented the spear, and ultimately the bow! The later invention of the rifle allowed red necks everywhere to sit up in trees and swill beer in order to catch food: just aim & shoot. Piece of cake, PLUS, they got out of the house for a day without chores.

The invention of the automobile came about because some fellow was too lazy to actually walk to the store for his bread. "Wouldn't it be easier to sit in a seat and just ride there?" Wondered he. "And too: I could do it all in one trip, not having to talk to and fro so many times for so much to get home." Thus: the car.

The sail that you see on boats was invented because someone was too lazy to row. And not for nothing, the vikings could easily have swam to North America (the less lazy folks who got here ahead of the vikings walked, after all), but it was easier to do it in a boat...lethargy strikes again.

Once upon a time, if you wanted to talk to someone, you walked over to their house and had a chat. That changed with the telephone, and the lazy escalated to where we are today: e-mail and texting. How many folks text to other people who are in the same house as them (I know I do!!)?

Gas ovens, so we don't want to have to cut the wood, stack it, bring it in, and pay attention to the state of the fire? Microwave ovens, because we're too lazy to cook on the stove? Frozen dinners, so I don't have to cut anything or peel potatoes?

Vacuum cleaners, because it's too much work to sweep (or take out and beat the carpets). These led to robots that sweep and wash the floors!

I'm going to submit that MOST of the modern-day conveniences that we feel like we just can't do without were invented by someone who just wanted to sit down and relax.

So the next time you sit in your car with bags and bags of groceries, or the next time you text someone, or vacuum the floors, use an electric knife, or ride your ride-on lawn mower, thank the anonymous lazy fellow who invented it. He may well have been one of my antecedents!

--This post dictated to my computer through voice-recognition software.

I Love a Rainy Day

It's blissfully quiet now. First time in a long time.

Sunday morning.

Rainy Sunday morning. I thought that I'd catch up on some reading.

One of the first places that I go to catch up on some reading is The Feathered Nest.

Deloris has a keen way of putting many things in perspective succinctly.

On Thursday Delores spent some time Absorbing the Green. Yes...you can do that.

I think that there are few things better in this life than a nice persistent rain when it's needed. Although admittedly in my area we've been getting a lot of intermittent rain for many days now. The green here is very absorbable.

Today is Sunday, and Delores' rain is now falling upon me. My world this morning is an echo of what Delores had on Thursday. Quiet, but deeper. Rain and snow seem to deaden harsh sounds noises.

I can't for the life of me fathom why some people don't like the rain. It's too often not looked upon, I think, for the grace that it is. Why do I like what so many folks would call "dreary" weather? I'll submit that my definition of "dreary" is different from the mainstream definition as it applies to this conversation.

Visitors that almost always come to call on a rainy day, but seldom come on a day that is not rainy:

Quiet - such an elusive ally - comes to call on a rainy day. Quiet has had wanderlust the past weeks, and has been errant my doorstep, but today, at last, she has come to visit...at least for a cup of coffee in the morning. She arrived in the night while I slept, though she does not know how long she can stay. We shall see.

Calm - Quiet's twin - has also while I slept nestled into my home. Calm usually visits only after Quiet has been in residence for a while. Calm is insidious, and I am generally not aware of his presence until he leaves. I am glad that he came in the night; he's always easier to spot in an empty room.

Peace - first cousin to Quiet and Calm - is here today as well, and often comes to me with the gift of limited, optimistic prescience. Peace whispers in my ear on a rainy day that it is unlikely that my home will be invaded by visitors. Visitors aren't a bad thing, really, but they pretty much are guaranteed to chase Quiet and Calm (both of whom are the quintessential introverts) out through the back door. Peace arrives on the heels of my sense that Quiet and Calm will share more than just a quick cup of coffee with me. The twins, I think, will be here for most of this morning.

Satisfaction - not a stranger by any means, but a (if I may use the word) polymorphic friend - comes with the rain in a particular way. Often, Satisfaction points out to me a job well done, or a soccer game well played. On days that are not rainy Satisfaction is often accompanied by Exhaustion (an often welcome visitor, Exhaustion is a high-maintenance visitor who wears out his welcome pretty quickly) and shows up after I've had a fair wrestling match with Honeydo. On a rainy day, like today, Satisfaction is joined by one of my favorite allies: Reflection.

Reflection - often a neglected friend of mine - grows into my home very much like a plant. Reflection needs sunlight, to be sure, but also needs the rain, and on rainy days, just as the parched plants in my yard (and in Delores' yard, it seems) raise their faces to the rain-soaked sky in adoration and seem to come to proper life, Reflection proliferates due to the rain. For me, Reflection is always easier to find (and therefore visit with) on a rainy day. Reflection is a philosopher, which may be why I enjoy her company so well. She is inquisitive and provocative, and asks sometimes hard questions that need answering, but that always lead to deeper questions, which lead me along warrens and paths to eventually find and recognize Reflection's children:

Contentment, Pleasure, Gratitude, and Sufficiency - but four of Reflection's children (there are too many to list comprehensively) play at my house on a rainy day. This morning, the house is not spotless - my own laundry is left incomplete and is draped over the back of the sofa, dishes are in the sink, and there are many things out of place (the natural effect of living in a home, really), and there are a lot of what should be irritating things similarly watching me and silently wondering when they will be attended. But after my conversations with my rainy day visitors I like to watch Reflection's children play. They tell stories of my own children at times - how they are growing or have grown into fine specimens of humanity (if not yet humility). They remind me that through all of our trials, my lovely wife of so many years (who yet slumbers under Peace's kiss) is still my best friend and biggest fan...the one person in the world who legitimately and unfailingly has my best interests in her heart. They also remind me that in this world so full of suffering and strife where so many are without, my house is full of food, laughter, good will, and all manner of things that make worthwhile those times when my rainy day visitors are off to parts unknown.

Soon the inhabitants of my home will wake. Quiet will be the first to depart, though she may linger to greet the first one or two who rise up to join me. Quiet does not like to be around lots of people at once. Calm rarely lingers when Quiet departs. He is protective of his twin. I don't usually see Calm show up, but I always know when he leaves.

Reflection is chased away pretty quickly too as life returns to my little house, and Peace is a bit capricious, really. and may linger or not as people wake up. You just never really know.

Satisfaction and reflection's children, however, do linger typically. The children like to watch as new stories are made - stories that they can replay for me during later visitations - and they have sharp minds and wits.

Thus do I find myself on a rainy day reacquainted with Recollection. Recollection is one of my favorite visitors. He is a small imp, much like Puck from A Midsummer Night's Dream. He is imperfect, and causes different people to relive the same set of event in different ways. Recollection reminds me of events often differently than he reminds others of those same events. Like Puck, Recollection is a peculiarly magical entity. 

Recollection causes me to relive my life in such a way that He leaves out critical players (like Anger, who may have slipped in under the door or Resentment who likes to poke those who do not like to be poked), which allows me to today laugh at things that transpired in my life that at the time made me very angry or hurt, or even frightened.

Have you ever had one of those experiences that, at the time, was very tumultuous, but you or someone said something along the lines of, "Someday, you'll look back on this and smile (or laugh)"?

That transition from the experience itself (from yelling or crying) to the recollection of the experience (now displaced by years) when you *do* laugh or smile at it, is the work of these rainy day visitors.

They may not come to your house on rainy days, but that's when they visit me, and that's why I Love a Rainy Day.