I envy people who live in one area most of their lives, especially their childhood. Children who grow up like that often cannot wait to leave and get away from everything that they know, but how many of them actually realize the value of what they have? As young adults, I would wage that few if any truly see the value of what they have. Give them ten years or so and perhaps they will see it.

What do they have? They have memories. Memories of playing with the same group of kids throughout their childhood. They have memories of people who know them by name on sight, who watch out for them and can be depended upon to lend a helping hand.

Growing up my family was constantly moving, from town to town, state to state, always chasing the next better job, only to find that it was really no better than the one before. Where others have cherished memories of birthday parties, school, and any number of other such things that one acquires growing up, I have dim flashes of scattered mental images. I remember a snowy winter in Happy Camp, CA, sliding down a hillside on my jacket behind the house, and walking across town to the local library for horse magazines. I remember grade school Olympic games in Hoopa, CA, as I gamely tried to keep up with the other children, while constantly hearing derisive comments from the tribal children about my being one of very few white kids in the school. I have a mental picture of tall conifer trees lining the field outside the school. I think that may have been my first grade school.

For the longest time I resented the lack of stability in my life. I isolated myself from friendship because I knew that there was a very good chance I would not be there to see the other kids when school resumed in the fall. This resentment formed the core of my personal resolution to never do the same to my own children should I have them. I promised myself that if possible I would provide my children with the stability that I never had in growing up.

Now, years later, I am a father, and while my children are still quite young, my mind constantly returns to this time in my own life. Now I realize that I can continue to resent that history, and live my life in that resentment, or I can choose to see the value of it instead. What value am I referring to?

Diversity for one thing. Because of constantly moving my selection of playmates was constantly changing. I played with Native Americans, whites, African Americans, Hispanic Americans, and who knows what others. Race was never really an issue, and when it was an issue I was typically the one being hassled because I was typically the only white kid in the group. The result was that I learned to treat everyone equally, based upon their own merits.

I also learned about adversity, and how to survive it when it strikes. We always lived close to, if not under the poverty line, but we survived. I learned that cheap is cheap, and not always best, but that if necessary cheap would suffice. As an adult I prefer to buy quality as I know that in the end, while I may pay more initially, in the end I will typically see more life and use out of the quality item than I ever would out of the cheaper equivalent. I learned how to hunker down and weather the storm.

Now, living in the midst of just such a storm as a parent I can look back and really see the things I learned from that experience.

Everything in life is experience, and has inherent value. How you choose to use that value is up to you. I can choose to view my life as one of deprivation and despair, or I can choose to view it as an enriching time that taught me how to survive when those times hit. It is up to me to see and use what value I want from any experience. I could wallow in self-pity, bemoaning my life, or I could leverage what I learned to help my family survive.

I choose to survive, to stand tall, and to fight my way free of depression. Yes, I may be unemployed with no real prospects on the horizon, but I am also getting an opportunity to watch my children grow that many fathers never get. I choose to leverage my resources, and do my best to be an effective steward of the resources being made available to me. I choose to maintain contact with those in my life who lift me up rather than isolating myself as I deal with depression.

I am man enough to admit it, I originally tracked down Wil’s blog simply because he was somebody I remembered from the days when I used to watch Star Trek all the time. Unlike many, I actually liked his work as an actor, and really enjoyed his character portrayal in the show.

Now, after spending months reading his blog and his other work, I find that I have a hard time remembering that child actor. Instead I have in my mind a picture of a man who is close to my age, who is a father, and who is a very talented writer.  Wil strikes a chord in me on many levels, whether it be music, general geekiness, or now as a father. My children are just barely a year old now, but after reading his latest column in the LA Weekly I find a renewed desire to celebrate each day of my children’s lives for fear that I may miss something important simply because I was distracted by earning a living so that I could put food on the table.

Follow this link and see what I mean: http://blogs.laweekly.com/ladaily/wil-wheaton/los-angeles-winter-on-mute-end/

Last night we got done with our Costco shopping and were feeling a touch peckish. We weren’t really interested in getting anything to eat at Costco, and were trying to figure out where to go for dinner. Pizza came up during the conversation, and we remembered that a new pizza place had opened up over by Coyotes Bar & Grill over on Baseline, and we had been wanting to go check it out.

Not quite sure what to expect, I ran in and got a take-out menu and came back to the car with it. I figured it was easier to do that and review it without taking the kids out and having to put them back in if we decided we didn’t want to eat dinner there.

After consulting the menu we figured that we would give it a try, and I will never regret making that decision. They only had one high chair, but one of the owners offered to run down to Coyotes to borrow one of theirs so that we would have one for each of the kids. Bang! Right off the bat, before we had even ordered, we were getting astounding service. That set the tone for the evening. They had a room in back with some games and a movie playing on the tv. As it had only one entrance it seemed a great place to be able to let the kids run a bit and still keep them cornered without having to really run around much ourselves.

As I entered the room I noticed that a gentleman was just finishing up his dinner, and I announced that we were invading with the twins. Not the best introduction that I have ever made, but this gentleman quipped that he knew what it was like as he was the father of two sets of twins himself! Two sets!!! Yikes! We later learned that this was the other owner, his wife having been the one to go get the other high chair for us.

The service was fantastic. Right off the bat they offered to change the movie, and put on a Disney flick for the kids. Their granddaughter served us our drinks, and was just enamored with the twins, constantly checking back in on us to see how we were doing. As the food came in we learned that they had split the kids food into two bowls (something we had forgotten to ask for) and had let it cool before bringing it in, so that we were able to give it to the kids right away.

So, about the food. The cheesy bread sticks…to die for. I can honestly say that I have NEVER had better. Then the pizza came. OMG!!!! It was terrific! Just enough sauce to give it good flavor and to help bond the toppings, but no so much that it felt like it was swimming in sauce. The toppings…nice thick slices of Canadian Bacon. Yes, I said thick slices for something that is never sliced thick. Sarah actually ate the crust, and she never eats pizza crust. Sarah also ordered a salad and tried the house dressing. Now to set some expectations here, our prior experiences with house dressings have always been bad, but this time around…Sarah was in paradise!

Then there was the service. Did I mention that it was fantastic! Great food, fantastic service, gourmet quality and style pizza without the gourmet prices. It wasn’t the cheapest place in town, probably on par with Round Table, but the pizza blew away Belagios and Pizza Schmizza. Made their dishes seem like Godfathers Pizza in comparison…

So, will we be going back? Oh yeah! The place even does birthday parties and family night! Family owned and operated, quality customer service, fantastic food, even decent changing facilities in the women’s bathroom. So, if you feel like taking the family out for a nice pizza meal and getting top notch food and fantastic service, I heartily recommend La Bella Vita Pizzeria. You can find them on their web site where they have their menu available for perusing, and even the number so that you can call in an order.

Well, once more I have let far too much time go by between postings. Such is life I suppose, and life is what seems to always get in the way of my posting updates. So, without further ado, it is time to get to the updates.

 First up, for those following the continuing saga of my employment issues, I am still employed. The temporary work assignment that was to carry me through to the middle of January has been extended, and now I am looking at early April as my new final date. Of course that is all presuming that things don’t change here at work, and the stage is set for some really nice changes. Back in October I was brought over to a fledgling unit that was created to address problems stemming from the economic environment that we are now dealing with. At the time the group was less than a year old, but it was getting some pretty high profile attention within the company. I was brought in with express instructions to take the odd assortment of tasks that they would be tossing at me and forging a position from them, and thus prove the need to make it a permanent position. If we could pull this off, the intent was to have the position officially created, and then I would post for it and interview for it.

All this was hinged to the thought that the hiring freeze would be lifted at the start of the New Year, but that hasn’t happened yet, likely because of the complexity of merging the two company’s HR departments and job boards. Indications are that this will be resolved in the next month, and things are looking quite positive. They can’t come right out and say anything, but I have been advised that there is strong approval behind the proposal to make all this happen. The chain of events that must follow is that once the freeze is lifted the proposal to create the position can be officially submitted, and if approved the position would then be created. From there I would still have to post my resume for the position, and then interview for it, but with being the one who created it in the first place…yeah, you can see the possible chain of events there as well as I can can’t you?

So, while things are still nebulous, there are solid indicators that this will all change before the extension expires. Hopefully by the time Sarah gives birth to the newest addition to our family I will once more be permanently employed by this company rather than floating in the nebulous cloud of uncertainty that has existed since last April.

I was going to post some children updates, but this is getting long, so those will have to wait for another post. At least that means I have something to talk about for another post, eh?

Friday we went in to get the one ultrasound test that we planned to have this pregnancy. One thing that both of us agreed on was that we did NOT want to know the gender of this child. Instead we were focused on a healthy heart and normal development. Gender is not that important to either of us.

So, the results are that there is indeed just one child growing in Sarah’s womb this time. Talk about a relief! We haven’t heard from the radiologist yet, but the preliminary results seem to be right on track, and the ultrasound tech said that based on the current size we are most likely looking at a March 31st birthdate. Anything after March 30th is fine with us since the 30th will be my final day in class in the third class in a string of 3 classes. Of course, the baby will come when it is ready, but we are having talks with it, advising it that it can’t come before the 31st.

Now then, for those who just have to know the gender, this data is known, just not by Sarah or myself, and we prefer to keep it that way. If you really find that you need to know please contact Sarah’s folks, and if you ask real nicely they might tell you.

Fighting Bigotry With Snark

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What? Prop 8 Threatens Existing Marriages? You Don’t Say

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It is official. I have been instructed by my mother-in-law to keep my super-spermmies to themselves. Yes folks, yet again we are expecting. It is a bit early to determine how many there are, and various sources have claimed that we have anywhere from one to four growing in there. One would be optimal. I would love for Sarah to be able to experience something more along the lines of a “normal” pregnancy and birth experience, especially in light of how traumatic the first time around was for us. Whether that is what is in store for us…your guess is as good as anyone’s at this point.

This does present some other complications that even now we are pondering how to address. For example, we are going to need a larger vehicle. There is simply no way that we can fit more than 2 car seats in either of our vehicles. Then there are the living conditions. HUD standards dictate 2 residents per bedroom. This will put us one over that limit unless we get into a larger apartment. Fortunately we have much of the physical infrastructure already in place, what with diapers, clothes and the like, so there won’t be added expenses there, but…another baby?!?

We are bouncing back and forth between shock and joy right now, wondering how we are going to do all the things we feel that we need to do…

Recently the topic of Honour has been coming up a lot in different places that I frequent. It has also been coming up in conversation a lot lately, typically tied in with my continuing to work past the original layoff date, and the work that is being expected of me during this extension period. Many have voiced concerns that I am acting like a doormat, letting myself be walked upon, but I feel differently, and have been trying to find a way to express my take on all of this. Following is what I came up with during that self-examination of my experiences.

My personal take on it is that I have a commitment to my direct boss, though not necessarily to the company as a whole, and he has not broken that trust. If anything he has gone above and beyond in trying to help me deal with what his boss decided to do. As such, since I still work for him, I feel obligated to do my best work for him, even when doing so will go unappreciated by his boss. He is one of those rare bosses that you seldom encounter in Corporate America. I have worked closely with him for a number of years, and he has been extremely supportive of me, even during times of high stress. He has had my back, and has protected me when others have wanted to replace me. Even this last time he went to bat for me, but this time he was not victorious. As such I work my heart out for him. I feel that doing less would be a breach of my oath to him.

I realize that this sounds a bit convoluted, but at the moment that is how it is in my mind. I am struggling to get a solid grasp on this concept and how it applies to my life. The principles are ones that have been ingrained in me from an early age by witnessing the actions of my elders. Every time I try to step back and look at things from the perspective of my friends, who all feel that I am allowing myself to be used and abused, I see instead the example my ancestors set for me. When I take the time to meditate upon those who have passed before, time after time I get the very solid impression that I am on the right path, that I need to stand strong and continue to do my best, and they will be proud of the honour that I bring to them by living up to the example that they set for me.

In my journey as a Heathen I have been learning more about some of the practices of being a Heathen. One of those is honoring one’s ancestors. At first I thought that this was my family throughout history, and that thought was rather intimidating. After all, when my paternal great-grandfather came to America he intentionally left his heritage behind, wanting his children to be Americans, not Scandinavians, so he did not teach them anything about their heritage. The end result of this for me is that while I know that my family stretches back to the Scandinavian countries, I know nothing beyond a couple of generations. How was I supposed to honor my ancestors if I knew nothing about them?

In reading and in conversations with Rod and others that I trust I came to learn that I don’t have to actually know who they are to honor them. They are still there whether I know anything about them or not, and simply honoring that they are there is sufficient. This worked for a bit, but I felt like I needed some connection, someone that I could think about, chat with, that sort of thing, so I began to cast about in my memories for something. My grandfathers were obvious choices, but somebody else came to mind that actually surprised me: Forest Rice.

I had dim memories of this older fellow, much like my maternal grandfather, always wearing these green work clothes that seemed so common among farmers of that era, who smoked a pipe. I can’t actually form a strong mental picture of him with a pipe, but I remember empty Prince Albert tobacco cans all over the place, and as such they became common toys for me to play with whenever I visited them. I can dimly remember him tucking a pipe into a shirt pocket along with a slim box of matches, but I can’t honestly recall seeing him smoke the pipe.

Over the last few weeks I have been thinking more and more about the man, and getting a strong feeling that he was watching over me. I had figured that I would focus upon my grandfathers, but Forest kept coming to my mind every time I stopped to think about what I was learning. In the quiet times he would come to mind, in the stressful times he would come to mind…I just had this strong sense of him being there with me.

I knew that Forest and his wife were family friends, but I didn’t remember too much more than that, so I reached out to my mother for more information, hoping that I could learn more about him and perhaps figure out why he was such a strong presence in my mind. Following is what she told me, and suddenly so many things make sense:

Forest was indeed a pipe smoker and Prince Albert was his tobacco of choice. Lealas was Forest’s wife and their last name was Rice. They were good old farm people with hearts of gold. I knew them from the time I was about 12 years old and loved them dearly. They both died of cancer just a few weeks apart. They first came to my acquaintance when we moved to Hoopa when I was still in grade school, they then moved to Cottonwood after Dale and I were married. We visited them often when you and Eric were small, they were like another set of grandparents to you.

Forest and Daddy were more like brothers than his real brother, your uncle Larry, they shared the same interests such as camping, fishing, farming and anything out in the wild. Just good old country boys is what they were. That is where you get your interest in woodsy outings and picture taking of your adventures.

I always knew that my grandparents had a formative impact upon me from an early age, but this little story tells me that there was more to the story than I ever truly realized. Forest had a very real impact upon me as is evidenced by my love of the pipe. He is the only person that I can think of during all of my growing up years that smoked a pipe, yet the pipe seemed to come so naturally to me when I did take it up a few years ago. At the time I never really thought about it, just figured it was something I was picking up from a couple of close friends who also smoked a pipe. But in the back of my mind I had this picture of somebody else with a pipe, and that I had always loved the smell of pipe smoke.  Over time I started to remember Forest, but I didn’t have anything concrete to really link him with my love of smoking a pipe.

In future conversations with my mother I intend to learn more about the times that I spent with the Rice family as I feel that while they are not blood relations, they are part of my family, and as such it is important that I learn as much as I can about them. Clearly they had an impact upon me from a young age, and only now are those times coming back to me. Now I can see why I have such a love of the outdoors, having learned it from my grandfather and Forest. Part of me has always yearned for a simpler life, a yearning strangely at odds with my love of technology, and that dichotomy has always made me wonder why I have two parts of me that are such opposites. Now, with this connection to Forest I can see how he and my maternal grandfather had an impact upon me, instilling that love from an early age.

So how does this tie in with my Heathen life? It gives me a stronger focus upon the man that has been at my side mentally for the last several weeks and months. Not only that, I believe that I shall dedicate the pipe that my mother purchased for me to Forest, and I will attempt to spend more time thinking about Forest when I smoke with it. This pipe will find a special place upon my family alter once I carve out a place for one. Until such time I will reserve this pipe for those times when I want to talk with his spirit, and I will leave some tobacco out for him in honor of his memory.