Please. Stop. Talking.

If you are under 23 years old, please know, you do have a voice. You have opinions and feelings, and thoughts and critiques and unique perspectives.

And yes, we're ALL kind of sick of hearing about them.

If you were born in the years of (or between) 1964 and 1981you are classified as a card-carrying member of Generation X. Those of us in Gen X remember earlier generations telling us empowering things like "children should be seen and not heard." That was mean and silences the sometimes very real value of a fresh, young perspective.

However, it also holds a certain wisdom.

My very complex social hive is a hodgepodge of media input, gaming, online connectivity, music and endless blathering and opinions concerning things that just don't matter. We cannot sit as a family and watch a movie or TV show without some one commenting, cracking a joke or texting their friends during the show. They talk over each other and talk during songs, discussion, movies, you name it. 

It gets worse, because it isn't just them, its adults as well. When did it become socially acceptable to talk–at full volume–during a movie in a theater? Or text someone during the show? It happens everywhere, during work meetings, corporate events and even church services, everyone's got something to say, and it can't wait. nO wonder our kids are so unfocused. 

To all of  you chatterboxes out there I have just one word for you that I think if you chose to remember it, would help the communication, no matter what form it takes, to be more easily understood. The word is:

"Shhhhhhh–!"

Stop talking. Almost nothing at this particular moment is so important that the person right next to you needs to hear it… right now. So here's the skinny; I suggest five easy things you to can remember when someone is watching a movie, listening to a song on the radio or trying to listen to a teacher, supervisor, pastor or authority figure:

• You are NOT funny. Save your drool comments for later. Shhh.
• If you have something funny to say, see item number one, above. Shhh.
• It is NOT okay to carry on a conversation with or near someone focused on something else. Shhh.
• Remember during a show or movie, your phone has two neat features; airplane mode or off. Pick one!
• This one is a real shocker: we are trying to watch/hear/learn. Be quiet!

Its ok to have 500 thoughts a minute. We just don't need to hear all–or any of them–at this particular moment. 

Half-court Hijinks

My phalanx of teenagers are all presently at various forms of athletic participation. One is vying for a soccer career. The other three are pursuing joining school basketball teams or simply trying to hone their basketball skills. Ironically two of them (two boys) think it is way awesome to spend untold hours practicing half-court shots, while ignoring things like; fundamentals, skills drills, layups and perfecting positioning and jumpsuits. As the Dad and coach-by-default, I have to always call out that practicing this shot is a huge waste of time.

I'm met with disapproving stares, rolled eyes and exaggerated exhales.

Not that I'm not used to any of that (after all I am a Dad to one teenage girl and three teenage boys) but I am floored that this is news. "What does Dad know anyway? Its not like he plays in the NBA or anything…" 

True enough.

Yet, while I don't make a living at putting the ball through the hoop, I have played more street-ball, played in far more city and college intramural leagues and even squared off in a charity game against some pretty darn good ex-NBA players. So what do I know? 

What I DO know is that you don't get very good at something without practice. LOTS of practice. In author Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers: The Story of Success, he promotes the 10,000 hours rule that states it takes roughly that long to become (employable and) proficient at just about anything. 

I know there are no shortcuts to success (ask 80% of all lottery winners how it feels to file for bankruptcy after losing essentially un-earned millions), I know Rome wasn't built in a day (Look at it!) and I know you won't get a spot on the team shooting half-court shots. 

You see children-o'-mine, coaches look for heart, endurance and most importantly, dedication. They want to see you've committed to learning the fundamentals of a five-person TEAM sport, not try and snag all the glory on some lame hail-Mary 30-foot lob that has you looking more like a dork than a b-baller. 

But hey, I'm only Dad. I've only lived through this already and have the answers to these questions. So, ignore me and just keep shooting those half-court shots.

I'm sure it's just as fun watching the game from the bleachers, and hey–even though you won't have any skills worthy of getting you on the team–you'll have a killer half-court shot. 

The summer reading died… and rose again.

If you know me, you know I live in a home fully overrun by teenagers, hormones and inane justifications. In the 21st century world of the modern American teenager, life is… interesting. 

They've grown up in homes that science fiction could only dream of just 50 years ago. Everything in their world, from cars to phones to TVs–all are run by ever powerful computers. The internet is accessible via more than a dozen devices in their home. 

What's more, they couldn't be more clueless... about almost everything. 

This past summer, when asked why he doesn't read more, one of my sons responded; "this is my summer, I read enough over the school year. I don't want to have to do work over the summer as well." When ON EARTH did reading become "work?" 

It happened because movies, the internet and those deliciously sinful video games have eroded our children's ability to use their imagination. I have watched this same boy sit and stare blankly at the floor or ceiling–for 20 minutes or more–because he can't possibly fathom an afternoon where the television isn't on.

I've watched as jittery fingers shred papers, clothes and even furniture due to idle fidgeting because mental and visceral stimulation has been removed from their world. But when I didn't give in to the complaining and sulking, a very funny thing happened.

The kids started to read, play board games and interact with each other. Yes, reading was resurrected. Maybe there is hope for the world after all. Not much–but it's a start. 

On Building A Better You

I've been lately working with all my kids on helping them build a stronger, positive mental constitution. We work out together, we discuss the events of our days and we discuss current events. I HIGHLY discourage negativity, teasing and self-loathing. There is no use comparing ourselves to someone else or to calling out each others flaws and weaknesses. We accept shortcomings. They are there. We know it. We move on. 

When we work out, we commonly play basketball together. One of the little nuggets I was taught when I was coached earlier in life was that when shooting around, you never leave the court on a miss. 

In other words. always leave on a make.

Its sort of Zen thing. Leave the basketball court on a swish (a made shot for those that are not familiar this thought). Don't leave on a missed shot. Always leave on a positive—on a win. It helps make the workout and the experience a positive one.

It goes hand-in-hand with some of these other favorites of mine: 

• Always say I love you to at least one person you care about every night

• Do at least one thing everyday that makes you feel good

• Have a Hobby or life passion… then add another one. Repeat.

• Do at least one thing, every year, you've never done before

• Reject bad habits, embrace good ones

• Surround yourself with people that bring you up–release the rest

• Learn the rules before breaking them

• Create something 

… and of course, always leave on a make. 

Always.

Discourteous Courtesy

Recently, I have committed–albeit only partially–to living a healthier lifestyle and getting into better shape. Occasionally though, I will 'back-pedal' and in a moment of weakness/food lust/craving, I will make some not-so-healthy food choices. In short, I resort to junk food. Nothing as vile as hot-fudge sundaes or an entire 1500 calories breakfast burrito (though, that sounds pretty darn good right now), but a guilty little pleasure of a breakfast sandwich can often do the trick nicely. 

Enter: the Jack-In-The-Box drive through

Now for those blissfully unaware, especially any of my east-coast cronies, Jack-In-The-Box is a lot like Hardee's on the East Coast. Sort of a Breakfast and lunch fast food hub open pretty much always. 

Recently, when grabbing a totally sinful breakfast 'sangwhich' on my way to work, I was asked a very serious question by the cashier/junk food pimp lady with the paper hat on:

"How was your visit with us today?"

What? The question left me stunned. I had no response as I sat dumbfounded–frozen–by this ridiculous question. How was my "visit"? You mean my shamefully indulgent, semi-guilt-ridden effort to exchange hard-earned cash for this gooey, cheesy, bacon-smothered awesomeness? If I were to answer truthfully, my visit was:

• Hopelessly indulgent

• Nirvana-esque

• Emotionally polarizing 

• Regretfully ecstatic

• Embarrassingly euphoric 

All of these hover dangerously close to an unpleasant truth, though I believe all I could muster at the moment was an emphatic; "uh.. good." 

In the future, if this is indeed how the mood engineers at the Jack-In-The-Box corporate experiential refinement division are planning to mold my "visits" from here on, I will be better prepared to respond to their false, yet strangely gratifying attempts at 'feel-good' perkiness as I grab my bag of grease.

I wonder what Wendy's morning pleasantries are like? 

Good Thing There's No One Else Around. Right?

Ever notice how many of us are 'all alone' here on planet Earth? Over seven billion of us at last count. So many souls and yet… EVERY. SINGLE. ONE of us is all alone.  

You can tell by the way people talk on their phones in public that they are all alone. You can tell in movie theaters and even during church. You can see it in how people drive as they give no turn signal to other drivers, when walking through stores, malls and crowded streets, there's no chance of bumping into someone. It's not because you are too captivated by the important cell phone chat or text by your family/friend/co-worker. 

We are all alone, there is no one else on Earth with each of us.

Its a good thing, too. Because imagine the sheer dismay of others would go through on a daily basis if you spoke at full volume on your phone during a movie. If you drove down busy streets without the courtesy of turn signals to other drivers. Imagine the unspeakable horror from people driving while texting or even talking endlessly on cell phones while they drove around, putting the safety and lives of others at risk. 

Since the whole world belongs to you, you toss garbage out the window of your moving car... you can stick gum under the tables and counters of bars and restaurants because, well it's just you. Nope, no one else around because those behaviors would be rude—even disgusting. 

But thankfully there's just you.

Your parents taught you manners, taught you to be considerate of others. They taught you humility and that you should be compassionate for the needs of others. You'd never turn your vehicle without using a turn signal, right? You wouldn't let a small child talk or scream endlessly during a movie that others are trying to enjoy and had spent their hard-earned money paying for would you? Of course not. That would be downright disgraceful. Your parents didn't raise a heathen. 

Whew, all I can say is thank God that isn't you… nope, no sir–ee… we are all safe. Because, after all… we are, each of us, all alone in the world. 

Idle Chit Chat

A Close Encounter Of The Oddest Kind

Recently, the kids and I attended a ComiCon in Phoenix. I parked in a underground parking structure adjacent to the Phoenix Convention Center. Two of my three sons and my daughter and I climbed into an elevator donning images of super-heros and sci-fi franchises on our our respective T-shirts. We also had laniards that prominently displayed our show passes strung around our necks.

Phoenix ComiCon is huge. 

Fans fly in from across the country to attend. It's on the news all weekend as local news people report on the costumes, the people and the events of this giant fan-fueled spectacle. 

It was clearly evident we, like nearly 40,000 other people that weekend—if not in this elevator—were on our way to the city's biggest fan event of the year.

Anyway, as we boarded the elevator, an older gentleman, let's say in his early 70's, is on already. He takes a moment to look the four of us over, then asks a prophetic question.

"So, uhh, you guys like comic books?"

Really?

The Prose of Cons

Ominous words from my teenage daughter
gives this geek-Dad pause.

The setting: Phoenix Comicon 2013, Phoenix, Arizona. My now annual visit to the fusion of cosplay, comics and chaos that is Comicon was in full sway. I make every effort o insure each of the imperial prodigy (my children namely) get to visit on a "sidekick pass" every year. On a Sunday afternoon, sharing the main hall with roughly 30,000 other local Geek-culture aficionados, my daughter turned to me and says "you did this to us." I was stunned. "What do you mean sweetheart?" I ask.

"You made us like this stuff," she replied. She was being glib but still, my response was a clear, resounding "you're welcome." 

Hey kid, all I did was expose you to a world where your imagination is encouraged to roam free, a forum where any story you connect with–or have in you–can be shown the love and nurturing all creative pursuits need to thrive. 

Comicon is one of the truest expressions of love I have ever come across. Everyone who attends is there to have a good time, free of the ridicule that often comes from "normal people" when we are expressing love for something to we connect with or doing something we care passionately for–like ready, writing or drawing comic books, graphic novels, building replicas of fictional vessels, video games, TV shows and movies. 

It's Woodstock for geeks. I have seen many of the great Cons; New York Comicon, Boston (my hometown), Phoenix, AZ Comicon (yes they're different) and of course, the coveted San Diego Comicon. 

At age 45, I am a lifelong fan-boy. I will be gaming in my 70's. Writing, reading and drawing comics until my last moments. The stories, the art the wonder of watching the normal become the fantastic–it's the kind of appreciation I can only begin to describe. 

My favorite scene; a newswoman from a local Phoenix TV news group was there to 'cover the freak show' (not their words but you know that's what she was thinking). This corporately professional reporter, say late 20's,  was in standard professional attire; skirt, heels, blouse, modest make-up and attractive hairstyle. The person she was interviewing? A 6-foot warrior-woman, 18" blonde mowhawk with pink tips, a bustier made of faux battle armor (a 'breast-plate' if you will), a shield, arm-bands, gauges and a gold bikini bottom with a sword and gold combat boots. 

The look on the newsgirl's face was priceless. Her life clearly gave her NO frame of reference for embracing or processing what this woman in front of her represented. I couldn't help but smile.

So to my daughter I say, you're welcome. I've exposed you to at least one place that is practically void of ridicule and loaded with people as passionate as your Dad–and perhaps, one day–you will be, too. 

And in doing so, you will never be alone. 

45 Things My Eyes Have Seen

On this my 45th year on earth, I take measure–and share–what I have had the privilege to experience

After 45 (Gulp!) years on our little spinning blue marble, I have seen tragedy, triumph and wonder. (we all have, right?) Now, on this day of my birth, May 13th, I share–in no particular order or relevance–45 of some of the most memorable and moving events of my life. 

1. The Fall Of The Berlin Wall (1989) – Toppling the graffitti–ridden commie wall meant the iron curtain was down and so fell the "Red Menace." 

2. Getting burned out of my home (1974) –Watching our home in Boston go up in a ball of flame – arson or freak accident–?

3. The Fall of Saigon on CBS (1975) – watched over Kraft Mac and Cheese

4, Meeting George Hamilton (Actor) & Russel Simmons (Run DMC) on the same elevator in San Francisco (2004) – still processing...

5. Hoarding bottles of "Old Coke" (1985) – 27 bottles of 'the good stuff' before the launch of Coke Classic. Man I was gonna be rich...

6. The Blizzard of '78 (Really?) – 21-foot snow drifts lasted for months. National guard in the streets and no school for weeks. Wicked Pissah–!

7. Watching my first TV spot run during the 1992 Super Bowl (uhh, 1992) – Betcha' didn't see that one coming... 

8. Driving cross-country (1993) – Do this and you'll see the America you see on TV and then some...  

9. Dunking in the basketball Hall of Fame (1993) – Nothing says awesome like hopping the fence and dunking on rims built in 1908... Boo-yeah!

10. The Space Shuttle Challenger explosion (1985) – R.I.P.

11. Seeing Star Wars, opening Week (1977) – Age 9, I remember saying "they make movies like this?" (and once and for all, Han shot first!) 

12. Watching the trade towers fall (2001) – One of the most gut-wrenching, horrific days for any of us... 

13. Seeing Michael Jordan score 63 points (1986) – Dude, did you have to do that against my beloved Celtics? 

14. Running the tables in Fallout 3 (2009) – yeah bee-yotch! Nailed EVERY achievement (XBOX 360) Yes Even the DLC... rocked that MoFo like a boss–!

15. Playing Hoops for the Mass Art "Easlemen" (1986) – Art school college hoops team? No problemo! Yes, the kid does hold NCAA Div 3AA standings... I got next! 

16. The old Brigham's dine-n-dash (1985, 1986, 1988, 1989) – Delish and free, but only if you got wheels. Better act like you know... 

17. Prank calling the operator (1979) – I thought it was sexy-time, I didn't realize she had my number and would call back. I wasn't the brightest child... 

18. Watching a boot-leg of Caligula (1979) – Whoa! WTF?! My tummy feels funny... (no relation to the prank call to the operator) 

19. Nearly drowning in the Bahamas (1981) – Went under twice then found the raft. What a dope. Man, that could have ruined my whole day... 

20. Playing my first HALO 2 multi-player match (2005) – OMG! This rocks–! Sniping random trash-talking 10-year old kids playing online is the sh*t!

21.  Playing against the Boston Celtics Alumni (1991) – Jumped Center against Dave Cowens, our backsides are still sore. 

22. Downing two bottles of Flintstone Chewable tablets (1974) – Stomach-pumping goodness, in 5 fruity flavors! 

23. Facing down a childhood bully (1986) – Where are your boys now, Reg? 

24. Seeing the Grand Canyon for the first time (1988) – What a pretty hole in the ground... breathtaking. 

25. Waking from a coma (2006) – The colors are brighter, birds are singing louder...  apparently, there was a lot of praying going on for me.

26. Grabbing Spider-Man issue #252 off the rack (1985) – Cool costume but, who the heck is Venom?

27. The birth of my kids (1996, 1998, 2000) – You know, the five us make a pretty good basketball team... we still got next!

28. The death of the Notorious B.I.G. (Christopher Wallace, 1997) – Mad skills, and Ready To Die will be playing 100 Years from now... R.I.P. 

29. Graduating High School (1986) – Bittersweet, cause I wanted out but not the goodbyes... 

30. Graduating from Mass. College of Art (1991) – Bittersweet, cause I wanted the goodbye but not the out... 

31. The Columbine Massacre (1999) – 15 shot dead in Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado and no real motive - a horrifying massacre. 

32. Being mugged at knife point (1985) – Man, that sucked.

33. Crisis on Infinite Earths (1985) – George Peréz and Marv Wolfman rewrite the DC universe for an entire year. Awesome.

34. Layed-off on a Friday, hired elsewhere on a Monday (1993) – In the words of a local sales rep; "Wow. that didn't take you long..." that's how I do. 

35. Seeing A Tribe Called Quest Live (1990) – Phife-Dog rapping about the Red-Sox on stage? Tight!

36. My first flight on an airplane (1981) – Now that was cool!

37. Watching The New England Patriots win their first Super Bowl (2002) – NOW can we stop talking about  the damn 'Super Bowl Shuffle'?

38. Meeting two different guys my Mom was dating (1983) – One worked for the mob, the other for the FBI. Hey, I can't make this stuff up.

39. Totaling the car of a superior court judge (2010) – I kid you not, the first on the scene, was his lawyer. 

40. Seeing the Avengers on the big screen (2012) – My favorite comic book (literally since age seven!), brought to life. Why, I could just plotz... 

41. Toured Graceland (1991) – Thank you. Thank you very much. 

42. Watching my son as Snoopy in a musical (2012) – The video has to be seen to be believed. Proud parent moment. 

43. Sneaking in to Boston Comicon (1985) – Heart-racing as a security guard sits rights next to us tells how much he hates people who try to get in and not pay. Yeah, those guys suck! Ha ha... oh wait.

44. Meeting Miss Massachusetts (1988) – Anita Lovely (yes that was her name) walks in to the copy shop I worked at, asked for copies of her press photo, then signs it over to me (insert swooning sounds here). 

45. Listening to Alabama, in Alabama, on the way to visit the USS Alabama (1993) – There are no words...  

Are You A Butt Head?

We've all seen it. The smokers who flick their butts out the car window that bounce in the road and send ash and burning embers everywhere. Isn't there something inherently wrong with that? I mean sure, you want to smoke and maybe you don't want them building up in your car's ashtray (and you will have to excuse me if I just DON'T understand that one). But where else in our society is it acceptable to just take something out of your mouth and throw it on the ground?

The answer is everywhere.

Now I'm NOT a smoker (though on occasion I will indulge in a cigar) but smokers–nasty as this habit is–aren't alone, Not by a mile. People spit, used chewing gum, chewing tobacco, candy, Lungys (those are my favs) and toss chicken and rib bones, soda cans, candy wrappers and about a thousand other things onto public roads, sidewalks, public restrooms and common areas.

To me, it's a sure sign that the Zombie Apocalypse is coming.

Have parents just given up? Have they stopped teaching children basic courtesies like don't spit on the ground? How much used gum that's been baking in the hot sun can my shoes take? Why are your (still lit!) cigarette butts bouncing off of my windshield?  Why do I even need to ask these things?

What I find ironic, is that these are mostly the same people who roll their eyes at recycling, conservation issues and the global warming conversation. I guess that makes sense though, why complain about doing something nice and responsible like controlling littering when you're one of the worst offenders? I'm no saint, sure in my time I've tossed my fair share of gum and candy wrappers onto the ground. But never into the common paths and walkways. Come on people, that's just rude–and nasty. 

So I guess, we just keep tolerrating this disgusting habit (after all, smokers don't have the most pleasant disposition) and I guess you'll just keep flicking those nasty butts onto the road and my tires can keep rolling over them. Whether you're a smoker or not, I defy you to deny any part of this observation. You can't, and you know I'm right. It just tells me our society has lost a little bit of it's credibility (and validity) as I scrape chewing gum off my shoes and watch as you flick your butts without a care in–or for–the world. 

Because it appears, butt-head, that you don't.