Stuff 'n Nonsense A Love So Strong

On the day this column reaches the newsstands, my oldest son will turn 17. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around that concept. Was it really 17 years ago that I brought that nine-pound, 10-ounce kid into this world? I guess so. When I look into his eyes, I see the boy he was, but when I pull back, I see the young man he's turning into. It's a bittersweet thing, to watch your kids grow up. This boy changed our lives in ways only a firstborn can. When the nurse put my son in my arms, I remember being dazed, exhausted, but mostly terrified. Who said I was ready to be a mother? How could the hospital allow me to leave with this precious bundle when I was little more than a kid myself? I was a child, playing house, enjoying the idea of having a baby. But as I stared into his deep, brown eyes, it got very real, very fast and I wasn't ready. Here was this helpless infant, depending on me, when I didn't have a clue as to how to care for him. And to compound matters, I didn't feel like a mother. I kept waiting for this rush of maternal love for this little stranger and yet I felt empty. My husband, on the other hand, fell in love with his son the moment he was born. I remember watching as my husband, barely old enough to drink, wearing a funky bandana and operating on very little sleep, cradled that small bundle in his arms as if he were the most precious thing on earth. Whatever I wasn't feeling yet, my husband found in abundance. He delighted in being a father, finding his way easily and without reservation while I floundered, too ashamed to admit I worried I'd never be a good mother because I felt so detached from this tiny being that shared half my DNA and demanded my every resource. I was afraid I'd never feel right, never feel what I was supposed to. For the first three weeks of his life, I relied on my aunt to be his primary caregiver. She loved and kissed him, gave him the affection he needed. She even gave him his first bath. I was too afraid of breaking him, of doing something wrong, to try. Slowly, I found my footing as a mother but it was a rocky climb and the learning curve was steep. I made a lot of mistakes, some minor, some not. He was a very good baby, which was a blessing. He rarely cried and when he did, it was never loud and piercing. He was adorable and almost too pretty for a boy. He had gorgeous soft, chestnut curls that no matter how I dressed him, always made people think he was a girl. Eventually, I had to cut those curls and they never came back. We almost lost him when he was 3; and to this day I carry the weight of the emergency room doctor's condemnation for waiting too long to bring him to the hospital for his cough. By the time I carried his little body into the hospital, eyes rolling into the back of his head, he had such bad bronchial pneumonia that his lungs couldn't pull in enough oxygen to breathe. The doctor told me another hour and he likely would've died. Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Macho Madness Little Ears, Big Ears

It's a constant battle. It's been an issue for generations, with both sides using the latest in technology, psych-ops, and state of the art equipment. The battlefield is constantly evolving, with one side making advances at times only to lose ground to their opponent when new intelligence is discovered. Like spies during the Cold War, the participants do their best to keep the other side in the dark, or conversely, to crack the code so they can uncover secrets. What I am describing, of course, is parents trying to hold a conversation in front of their children. Or, as we used to call it in my house, The Big Ears That Are Always Listening. It starts when your children first begin to talk. My daughter, Rachel, and her husband, Danny, are just now discovering this with my granddaughter, Maddie. Maddie might seem preoccupied, but if any of us happens to mention the word 'outside,' Maddie will hone in like a heat seeking missile, wanting to go into the backyard. Rachel is currently visiting from Spokane with Maddie and my grandson, Gavin, and she recently reminded me of the technique my wife, Donnelle, and I used to counter the Big Ears. The solution we came up with? Cop-speak. Police officers use a phonetic alphabet when talking on the radio, as transmissions are often hard to understand. So instead of attempting to spell a name or relay a license plate number where the Bs, Vs, Es, etc., sound alike, we would use a phonetic alphabet. For example, A, B, C would be Adam, Boy, Charles. We stumbled on the idea after Rachel learned to spell. Prior to then, we could simply spell out a word to each other, confident Rachel or our son, Kevin, would have no idea what our conversation entailed. But when Rachel discovered spelling, it became tougher. Driving home from somewhere and wanting to stop for ice cream was the big test. You can't say the words ice cream with a couple kids in the car without a riot breaking out. Spelling it out was easy and quick. But then, Rach upped the ante. Being able to recall and sound out letters, it might take her a few minutes, but she would eventually figure it out. Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Dawn's Column Yard Sale Tale

My husband and I recently held a gargantuan, one-day yard sale. Due to our union, we had double, and in some cases, triple, of everything required to furnish a home. We had filled the shelves of the garage with boxes of items just for the yard sale, knowing that it wasn't even everything we needed to put out because we hadn't had time to address it all. In preparing for the event, I began to look around the garage, taking in how truly stacked and stocked it was with yard sale stuff. It was overwhelming and I began to think about how we were actually going to pull it off. Just how early would we have to rise in the morning to start setting up? How on earth would we be able to man it by ourselves? There was no way we could go it alone and get it all done, so we decided to call for reinforcements - family. In my yard sale strategy, thinking of how we could get the most traffic and serious shoppers, I told my husband I thought we should "open" at 7 a.m. He gave me this "are-you-crazy?" kind of look - because he knows I'm not a morning person. I ignored the look; this was business. I also knew that the truly serious yard-salers would show up well before then, especially if the garage was open and we were setting stuff out on the driveway. This is probably where I should explain that my husband really hates yard sales. He's not into attending them, so he doesn't, and he abhors hosting them. The way he sees it, he does "battle" all week long making sales deals and for him to have to do battle with someone over, literally, nickels and dimes for a sale is just ridiculous. He believes that if you have something at a "fair price" then that person should just pay it without haggling. This always makes me laugh - which is probably not a good response because he's totally serious. He complains that if you have something priced for a dollar, they want to give you 50 cents. If you have it priced at 50 cents, they want to give you 25. He's very impatient with this mindset, it makes his blood pressure rise. I try to explain to him that people like to feel like they're getting a deal. He counters with statements like, "They are getting a deal. They can't go out and buy that widget anywhere near that price!" While I contend that he's right, people like to negotiate, you know, like they're "The Donald" (as in Trump) of yard sales. Once again, he circles back around to the fair price argument. Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Marg-Ins Summer What?

Welcome to August and the resumption of school and a somewhat normal routine. Summer, or what months pass for summer vacation here in California, are just about over and like it or not, alarm clocks will soon be back in use. The unusually mild summer weather (trust me, I'm not complaining at all) has made it seem like we are still waiting for the real summer to hit and it's a little difficult to fathom that classes are about to start. We'll probably get slammed with a week of 110-degree weather sometime in September, just to make sure we get our fill. As un Central Valley-like as our summer has been so far, I did have the chance recently for a little R&R at a spot that was some 15 to 20 degrees cooler even than the low 90s we had in the past week. Heading over to Santa Cruz for a day of fun at the beach and the boardwalk could be considered my final summer 'fling' of vacation before getting back to the business of fall sports, fighting with my daughter to get out of bed for school and much nailbiting over homework assignments getting done on time. For the moment, I prefer to put school in the background and just focus on the fun of spending a day with good friends. My daughter and I went with friends we have known since she and their daughter were in preschool together. Many birthday parties, softball games and elementary teachers in common later, we and friend Lisa, her daughter Rylie and younger son Casey Custer hit the highway. We settled in at the beach first and didn't really plan to do anything but sit and watch the waves, do a little wading - it was very cold, so there wasn't much wading go on amongst us Valley types - and buy an overpriced corn dog and fries for lunch. It was relaxing to see everyone co-existing peacefully on the beach and we even shared some laughter as we watched what had to be a class of three dozen junior lifeguards trotting along the beach in their signature red life-saving swimsuits, trying to keep up with their older instructors. Seagulls dove in close, hoping you were eating something and their dive-bombing would scare you enough to drop a piece of whatever you were munching on so they could snatch it up. I just love the smell of the sea air, the sound of the ocean waves coming in, the feel of the cool, damp sand underneath the top layer that's heated and dried by the sun. After a few hours of beach exploring we headed to the Boardwalk and yes, this was my first time there, so of course certain rides had to be on the itinerary. The smaller of the two roller coasters was a little too herky jerky and rattly for my taste; I just didn't care for it. But that put me into a quandary over boarding the larger 'Giant Dipper' famous wooden coaster. Casey, who had been my seatmate on the smaller Hurricane, apologized for not warning me about the turn that slams you into the side of the coaster car, but promised that I would like the 'Dipper' better. With trepidation, I eyed the wooden and steel monstrosity and friend Lisa echoed Casey's encouragement that it wouldn't be that bad. Wednesday, August 04, 2010

Macho Madness Hey, Whippersnappers!

I recently turned 50. I've heard people say "50 is the new 40," or some other sort of nonsense during the past couple of weeks, possibly in the spirit of cheering me up. I'm not sure if this is true, but now that I've reached this benchmark I've found there is an upside to this whole turning 50 thing: I'm able to release my inner cranky old man. So in this spirit, they're full of crap. Family members might say I've been cranky for a while; this is probably an accurate statement. But now, I can feel entitled to share my opinion with everyone by having lived a half century. I was explaining my theory to my wife, Donnelle, the other day, but I don't think she bought it. But all in all, it was a fun birthday. I received a bouquet of black balloons at work, which was a nice touch. Family and friends sent me some humorous cards, but I found it was those who have already reached the age of 50 who enjoyed my recent birthday the most. My brother-in-law, Jerry, was pretty excited. He had passed this milestone a few years ago, and always enjoys welcoming new family members to this club. How excited was he? Not one, or even two birthday cards would suffice. He had to get me three. One spoke of looking on the bright side of reaching 50. The inside of the card, though, was classic. "Okay, there is no bright side. There's a bright light, but you're gonna want to stay away from that." Like I said, he was happy I joined the club. One thing about my birthday is for at least a few months, Donnelle and I will be the same age. While one of our friends recently, and humorously, pointed out in a Facebook posting that Donnelle had "robbed the cradle," it only affects us for a few months out of the year. But these are wonderful months for me. Although we were high school sweethearts and graduated the same year, she was actually born in December. With my birthday in July, we have different years of birth. Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Dawn's Column Married...Finally

It's official. I'm now a Mrs. - for an entire month already. All the details came together for the wedding, which was a beautiful, memorable event - that went by very quickly. We feel blessed to have wonderful friends and family who supported us throughout this whole process. I now have a husband. I've altered my name, moved into a new home - just to name a few changes. There are some things I'm still trying to get used to. During our honeymoon, at this one restaurant while waiting to be seated I had gone to the ladies' room and my guy was shown to our table. When I returned, I met up with the hostess and was looking around for him. She offered to help and I told her I was looking for "my (insert long pause here) husband." It felt awkward to say that. It was the first time I'd said the words "my husband." I've known him as my "significant other" for so long, and then for a little while he was my "fiancé," and I was just getting used to calling him that. Plus there's this ring on his finger now. I've never seen him wear one and it's an adjustment for me. The other day, we bumped into one of his acquaintances and he introduced me as his wife. Another first. Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Marg-Ins May I Ask You A Question?

If you have been a regular reader of the paper for any length of time, you are probably familiar with our feature that has been called a number of things, from 'Street Beat' to 'Question of the Week' to our latest moniker 'People Poll.' It typically occupies a space here on the 'Perspective' page but that, too, has changed over the years, from the bottom of the page a decade ago to the more recent right side of the page. With this week's issue, we suspend the 'People Poll' column as a regular feature. It will appear occasionally, most likely within the news pages of the paper, when there is a timely question or something going on in the world that we want to get feedback on from residents. Every reporter that has ever worked here has had the chance to grumble when it was their turn for the 'question of the week.' In recent months, we changed direction and developed a list of responders, sending out the question via e-mail rather than having a reporter head out each week to query random people on the street and get their photo to go along with it. At first, it seemed to work, as we sent out mass emails to our volunteer responders and always had more than enough answers to pick and choose from and routinely rotate people from week to week. As the weeks went on, however, we would have fewer people respond, whether they just didn't want to answer a particular question or weren't checking their emails on a regular basis. What started out with a contact list of some two dozen people to share the space dwindled to about four or five that we could count on to answer each week. We also sometimes struggled, in our staff meetings, to come up with a question to ask. What we found over the course of having the queue of people to go to was that many would shy away from the more hard-hitting political or topical questions. Most would answer what we consider the 'fluff' questions about 'how do you beat the heat' or 'what's your favorite comfort food' but we often had to scramble with the meatier topics. So, after much discussion - and a very quick vote - we have decided to forego the People Poll at the current time. When I first started at the paper, all the reporters were on a rotating schedule for Street Beat and a community photo. One reporter would be assigned to get the question answered and get some sort of community-oriented picture in Riverbank one week, while another reporter handled the duty in Oakdale. Escalon at that time had its own street beat duo, the husband and wife team of Pete and Sheila Arellano. Pete would get the 'mug shot' of the person answering as Sheila jotted down their answer. Wednesday, July 07, 2010

Ramblings Slip Sliding Away

Words slip and slide. I discovered that a long time ago. In writing essays for high school, papers for college, accounts of trips and adventures, I found the words take over and dictate the story, not the other way around, and the story doesn't turn out the way you intended it even when you sometimes, almost by accident, choose the right word. Much is the same with life itself. A story should be a pattern, a jigsaw, of tightly fitting words with a point to it. But the words slip and slide, refuse to mesh, and the meaning you intended disappears or wasn't there in the first place. Evanescent as the dew before the morning sun. Writing can be very frustrating. Maybe there was no point in the first place. It was just a string of words. English is notorious as a language that has a very large and rich vocabulary but a loose construction. You can pile phrase on top of phrase with very little connection. You can start a sentence in many different ways. And for words, the language of Shakespeare and Chaucer offers a huge vocabulary with an infinite variance and subtlety of meaning. It's a good language for poetry and oratory but not so good for written orders and exact descriptions. In high school I studied Latin, which is a very exact language with a limited vocabulary but a rigid sentence construction, generally following the sequence of subject, verb and object. Part of our work was translating Latin into English. Fairly easy. The tough bit was translating English into Latin. Sometimes it could not be done. You suspected the English phrases had no meaning in the first place. I'm reminded of that in reading the wordy, often incomprehensible agenda items listed in a city council or school district agenda. Beginners in the Latin language start with reading Julius Caesar's Gallic Wars because that famous Roman general wrote simply and clearly about the wars he led against the Gauls in what is now Germany. His stuff is simple to translate. But he was a practical soldier writing factual history. Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Stuff 'N Nonsense Homeownership: An Education In Economics

As previously mentioned, you might remember that we purchased our first home last year. It's been about six months now and we're still settling in but we've managed to unpack most of the important boxes even if we aren't entirely sure where everything ended up (I still can't find certain items that once resided in the kitchen). People always ask, "how are you enjoying your new home?" and the answer is always, 'we're loving it!" but since becoming homeowners we've discovered a few things that may seem like common sense but the reality of the meaning has only just sunk in. I'm happy to share a little of our "homeowner education." 1) Owning a home is expensive. Of course, living in California is pricey anyway but when you own your home, everything falls on your shoulders. When you rent if something falls apart, breaks, or needs some kind of repair, you pick up the phone and within a reasonable amount of time - Voila! - your need is met. While we were renting there came a time when the dishwasher needed replacing. Our lovely landlords rectified the problem within days. Now, we own and we've discovered we need a new dishwasher and alas, there is no one to call but ourselves. A peruse down the aisles of the local appliance stores nearly gave us sticker shock ... and we still need a dishwasher. Hand washing is good for you, right? 2) Discovering you have caviar tastes on a generic beer budget. When we first purchased, we had "pie in the sky" ideas of what we were going to do in the way of improvements. We wanted new shutters, a new kitchen, new floors, and a new banister (Okay, you can stop laughing now), not to mention new paint and definitely a remodel on the backyard. (I said stop laughing). Of course, this was all before we started pricing things. (Cue sad music). Talk about a humbling experience. We discovered that a). We are not independently wealthy; and b). We'd be lucky to pick one of the aforementioned projects per year. I think we may be able to afford shutters for one window. We're currently deciding which window will be the lucky one. 3). You become ultra-observant. Now that we own our home we seem to notice things we never noticed before. For example, there's a small spot in the living room where the carpet is coming up. Seriously, I'm not a very observant person but suddenly I'm Miss Eagle Eyes. Previously, an elephant could be sitting in my living room and I might walk right past it; now, I see lint balls. And then I obsess about them. Thursday, June 24, 2010

Macho Madness Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

A few years ago - in fact, it was one of my first columns - I wrote about the changes my wife, Donnelle, and I were going through as our children prepared to leave home. Our daughter, Rachel, had recently graduated from CSU Stanislaus, and was engaged to her high school boyfriend, Danny. Rachel had lived at home for all but one of her years in college, and she was preparing to move to Spokane in Washington State with Danny after they were married. Danny had joined the Air Force and was preparing to go through SERE (Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape) school. Kevin, our son, had just graduated high school. He was going to UC Santa Barbara, where he would live in a dorm. All of this was going to occur within a timeframe of just a couple of months. While both of our children were looking forward to their coming adventures, Donnelle and I realized we would soon become empty nesters. After that column ran I received a number of emails and comments about how much Donnelle and I would enjoy our time together when we entered the empty nest phase of our lives. Many kind-hearted individuals said we would value this time once we made the adjustment to not having our kids live at home. I think we were both a bit skeptical. We had both put so much effort into raising our kids, and were struggling with the fact we wouldn't see them everyday. I really enjoyed being a parent. In fact, although I've had some success in my previous career as well as in my current gig as a reporter, I always felt the one thing I did extremely well was being a dad. I rock as dad. But over the past few years, I discovered the comments and emails I had received were completely accurate. I could also be a husband. And a grandparent. And, much to my surprise, I'm still a dad. Wednesday, June 16, 2010