Howdy folks, blogging today from the actual site of Little House On The Prairie. Now truth be told, this means very little to me. However, apparently my wife and my oldest daughter love these books. I vaguely remember the TV show, didn't know there were books until about 6 months ago, and didn't know it was an actual story until about 6 hours ago. Anyway, so here we are in South Dakota.
We started our "Oregon Trail" journey yesterday in Chicago, IL. Well my day actually started in New Orleans. I was up at 5 in the morning to get home, repack, and then get on the road. The drive though IL was boring as usual. I will give Wisconsin some credit though, it is a prettier state than I would have predicted. The Minnesota border area around the river is beautiful. The Mississippi River was way up which kind of added to the prettiness of the area. It was a very unusual day for two reasons: 1) I saw the Mississippi River at is southern most point, and I then later crossed the Mississippi River at its northern most point. 2) I let Brooke drive much of the drive yesterday. This never happens, by never I mean I can't remember the last time she drove on a trip. I was so tired from being in New Orleans the past few days, it was probably dangerous for me to drive. I sort of liked being in the passenger seat, no pressure at all. Maybe I will have to let her drive again......neh. Anyway, about 15 miles in MN starts to flatten out, and apparently this fact doesn't change until western South Dakota. Not much happened last night, other than a fun night at a Hampton Inn. I sort of feel like we are the family equivalent of a zombie hoard when we travel. We come, we use all the towels the hotel has in stock, we eat all the free hot breakfast they provide, then we leave without a trace. I used points for the hotel last night, so they didn't even get paid for our destruction. Ayers family 1- Hampton Inn-0.
Today was a great day, capped off by a selfie with the Jolly Green Giant.
Its not every day you pass a 60 ft statute dedicated to the HQ of JGG. Being that we were on a great family adventure, we felt it was necessary for the brief detour. Today was only about 5 hours of driving, much of the scenery was the same. I will say this, it is pretty. Its a different prairie pretty, but pretty nonetheless. We rather enjoyed the ride today, but that could partially be because we don't have to make it again.
The second half of our day was spent here on the 170 acre site. This is where we are sleeping tonight, on site of the homestead.
The girls had an absolute ball this afternoon. They played with the horses, the ponies, the baby ponies, they (all 4) road the horses, there is a baby cow, 3 baby kittens that they love, they went on a carriage ride, school house, did the whole nine yards. I went on a 7 mile run, I think both groups were happier with what they decided to do. During my run it was crazy to see some rainstorms off in the distance. You sort of thought they were coming, but then you remembered you can see so far that you probably weren't really in danger. We had a simple dinner at our campsite (above), and now we are anticipating some star gazing. Tomorrow its off to western South Dakota. Bad Lands, Mt. Rushmore, etc. Im excited to eventually see the site of one of my favorite HBO shows. We can only hope our ox don't break down along the way.
If you are friends with Brooke or I on Facebook, there are a lot more pictures there. Feel free to check them out over there.
Thomas Jefferson is one of my favorite political men of our past, one that I love to take in whatever I can on him. Lots of people from history you enjoy to read about, many that's all you can do. TJ, is one of the few you can really walk in his footsteps. If you have never had the privilege of walking "the grounds" of UVA, you really should make a trip. Yes, Monticello is awesome, but so is Mr. Jefferson's University. Mr. Jefferson wasn't a perfect man, he had his faults. However, his vision was something that arguably may not have ever been matched in the history of America.
I think that what you put on your tombstone says a lot about what your priorities were in life. Think of all the accomplishments that Thomas Jefferson could have put on his tombstone, and look above what actually made the cut. This is what was most important to Thomas Jefferson. Not President of The United States. Not 1st Secretary of State. Not Vice President of The United States. He thought writing our Declaration of Independence, Statute for Religious Freedom, and helping create UVA, were his greatest achievements. That speaks volumes about TJ, and I absolutely love it. Your tombstone might be the only thing a person ever sees of you. What would you want it to say to the person if you could no longer say it yourself?
As Eminent Supreme Recorder for SAE, I could very well be at the pinnacle of my professional career. However, I have told anyone who will listen that being ESR will not make my tombstone. There are two reasons for this. 1) I am going to be cremated, so I won't have a tombstone. 2) This job does not define me, validate me, or give me some sense self righteousness. Don't get me wrong, leading this organization is an incredible honor. Like I said, its probably all down hill professionally after this job because its an amazing position. There is no question that Sigma Alpha Epsilon is such an incredibly important part of my life, I am so just so fortunate (honored) to sit behind the desk that I do for whatever timeframe I hold the office. However, it will not make the cut for my tombstone despite its magnitude.
If I had to think of three things that would make the cut for my tombstone, I think I would want it to read:
Husband
Father &
True Gentleman.
That's it. I understand that to many people out there this doesn't seem like a lot. Perhaps you would interpret that here rests a man that in life who did not accomplished much that is extraordinary. That doesn't bother me that someone may think that. This weekend encompasses everything that matters the most to me. Its the girls last day of school tomorrow, Saturday is my 11th anniversary with Brooke. I honestly can't believe its been 11 years since we said I do. Then Sunday is Fathers Day (my parents anniversary too). I haven't fully gotten into this holiday until very recently. I guess its partially because I'm still learning what it actually means to be a Daddy. I love it when I get home from work and all 4 girls (well 3 of the 4) come running to say hello. They all scream for Daddy and give me a big hug. Ive had lots of titles, but Daddy is the best. This weekend though I am going to do nothing but spend it with my girls. All weekend I am going to fully embrace my Daddyhood, and do Daddy things.Saturday we are taking Caroline downtown to Chinatown for her birthday. I was told by Caroline I am going to grill out on Sunday night. I may get a good run in too, but I'm going to be a husband and a father. Thats it. The two things I love the most, the two things I am most proud of. I may not be the father of a major university, but I am the father of some pretty cool girls.
If someone asks you "what time is it?" there are a lot of ways you could respond to that question. You could, of course, respond with the appropriate time. You could simply respond with some southern saying about when a dog hunts, or when a frog croaks. You could enthusiastically respond "GAME TIME!" There are so many traditional ways you could respond to this very simple question. Not in my house, not when I was growing up.
If you ever make the "mistake" of asking my parents "what time is it?" they will answer your question, but not until they sing the entire Howdy Doody theme song.
11 year old me: Dad, what time is it?
Dad (with Mom joining in from somewhere in the house): It's Howdy Doody time, it's Howdy Doody time, Bob Smith and Howdy Do, sing Howdy Do to you. So give a rousing cheer, cause Howdy Doody's here. Its time to start the show, so kids lets go!" It is 2:43.
This happened every. single. time. It still happens to this day. I would make it a point to not ask my parents what is the time, just so that I don't have to listen to this song. I would rather take a picture of the sun's position in the sky, find an old encyclopedia and chart the sun compared to the picture, run outside and check our sun dial (yes we had one), than ask them that doomed question.
So this morning we are sitting around the counter celebrating Baylor Grace's birthday. One of my girls asks me that all important question.."Dad, what time is it?" Then it hit me, that moment when you realized you have turned into your parents.
I know how annoying it was to hear that damned song. I know how much it drives me crazy to this day. So what did I do when I was prompted by my child about the time? I sang the entire damned theme song.
It was actually a pretty cool moment. I went into the explanation of what/who Howdy Doody was, how my parents used to do this to me all the time, etc.
Me: This was a show your grandparents used to watch in the 50's when they were kids.
Caroline: Like in the 1500's?
Me: No, Caroline, they aren't that old.
As I was leaving the house this morning, I gave all 5 girls a kiss and wished them well for the day. Taking my last steps out of the house I heard one of them singing the Howdy Doody theme song, a song they had just heard for the first time.
Baylor Grace asked me in the car ride home about the time, with this really anticipatory look on her face, hoping I would sing the song. A song that her and Reagan sang along with. When I got home, Caroline was signing the darned song too. I hear them upstairs in the shower, singing this song. It haunts me.
I suppose it could have been worse. Its kind of funny that when they sing it it doesn't bother me like it did when Mom and Dad would sing it. You win (again) Mom and Dad, you win again.
When Brooke and I moved into our first house as a married couple in December of 2003, my mother gave me a bird feeder. It was a pretty basic feeder, but I loved it. I always enjoyed watching the birds come and eat from it, I enjoyed watching the squirrels trying to get at, and the many other various animals who came to the buffet.
When Brooke, Reagan, and I moved to Lexington, the feeder came with us. It wasn't new when I got it, and it was constantly getting beat up. Bad storms, fat animals, high winds, all would knock it to the ground and break it even more. When time game for all us to move to Chicago, the feeder came with again. Winters and wind are hard here in Chicago, and after a few weather induced falls the feeder was destroyed. I was actually a little disappointed when I had to toss it a last fall.
The last weekend I was home (at the end of March) Reagan and I were outside bumming around, and I mentioned that when I returned I wanted to go with her to pick out a new feeder. She didn't really say much when I said that, in fact I wasn't sure she heard me. In between my hectic travel schedule, I was recently home for about 15 hours. Before she left for school, Reagan said she had a surprise for me. She got this long box and gave it to me. The smile on her face was ear to ear, it looked very much like the one on the top of this page. She was very proud of herself about something. I opened the box and inside was this new bird feeder. She told me that she helped Mom (Brooke) pick it out. I thought it was a nice gesture, and I do love the new feeder. I will hang it up when I get home on Sunday. I come to find out from Brooke, that there is more to the story. Reagan actually paid for the feeder with her own money. She went to Brooke and asked her mother to help her buy me a new bird feeder. She works hard around the house to get money. She doesn't get it for just consuming oxygen. She saves and saves every penny she ever makes. Most of the money she gets goes directly to her bank account, but she does keep some in her piggy bank. This is the money she wanted to use it to buy her Daddy something. Brooke and I are fairly sure that this is the first gift I have ever gotten from the girls that was purchased with their own money. It really warmed my heart when Brooke connected those dots of me, it made me feel really good. Thank you, Reagan-I love it. I just wished I had realized all this when you gave it to me.
My first bird feeder came from my mother. It traveled to multiple cities and weathered many storms. At some point it just gave out. Maybe it was fate that kept me from picking one up on my own, maybe just luck. Regardless, having Reagan give me (with her own money) one is pretty darn cool. I'll never forget the smile on her face when she gave it to me. I think her Mamaw would be proud to pass this torch to Reagan.
One of the hardest things for Brooke and I to do is carve out time just for us. We have to really work at it to have time where we aren't distracted by life. I'm sort of proud that we are getting better and better at this, and I think it has been really healthy for our relationship. It was just a few weeks ago, when we were just sitting around talking when I had an eureka moment.
Here is my confession. I was not a good husband early on. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't awful, but I have come to realize that I was not as mature as I thought I was. I still sort of had the college mentality, but I was living in "the real world." Brooke and I were too young when we got married. Well at least I was. I have only recently realized this, and its not an admission that I am proud of. When I got married in 2003, I didn't actually have a true grasp on what it meant to be a man. I certainly didn't understand what it meant to be a husband. Without question, I didn't know what it meant to be a true partner. Would I do it all over again? Absolutely. Ask Brooke the same question, she might tell you something different. That's a joke, I think. In retrospect, would I do certain things differently and handle life differently? Absolutely. Truth be told, I didn't start growing up until Reagan came. Then we moved to Lexington and Caroline came. Then Baylor Grace, then Hadley Blaine. At that point we moved to Chicago and we were really on our own for the first time. This is significant because it made me realize how much I lean on Brooke, and how important she is to me. Ive heard the saying that kids make a good marriage better, and a bad marriage worse. It is absolutely accurate to say they have made our marriage better. However, I think a reason for that is because they made me better. They made me realize I needed to grow up. The girls made me realize I needed to be more careful with how I acted. The girls made me realize I needed to be better with how I was to Brooke. The girls made me realize how important my conduct really was. I now know I need to take better care of myself physically, mentally, and spiritually. They are always watching me. While I am proud that Caroline thinks its fantastic that she farts like her Daddy, I realize now what I need to do for them. The greatest thing I can do for my girls is love their mother.
I have no idea why I was the way I was back then. For the record, my parents raised me better than that. I am probably harder on myself than anyone else is, but I am deeply disappointed in myself for those early years. I can never have those years back, I can never give Brooke those years back. I guess it is all part of life's maturation process, even the parts you are disappointed in. I'm lucky to have survived those early years when I was not the man I should have been. I am even luckier to have Brooke be blessed with the patience of a Saint. Life isn't about doing it perfectly. Its about doing it better than you did the day before.
I thought I would go way back for my #TBT (throw back Thursday) today. This picture is one I am particularly proud of, one that probably guides me in my everyday work more than I realize. It is a picture from the late 1940s in Kentucky. What you are looking at, is a restaurant that my Great Grandfather worked at. Delbert (who is in the foreground) worked at this place with his brother in law, my Great Great Uncle (who is in the background). It was that side who owned the store, not my Great Grandfather. This picture might not mean much to you, but I ask that you to put the picture in its historical context. This was in the segregated South, during the height of the Jim Crow laws. Not only was "separate but equal" rarely enforced, it was often ignored. My GGF had no reservations about serving African-Americans. In fact, as a result of their reputation, 90% of their clientele were African-American. All my ancestors in this picture were raised on the Tennessee border. They are just removed from grandparents who fought for the Confederacy. I don't claim they were perfect, but at a time when it was excused by society to treat a particular section of the society as second class citizens, my family did not. I am very proud of that.
The next decade, late 50's early 60's, their business interests moved to more of a general store. It was a store in the front of a "shotgun" house. Again, my family's reputation preceded them, and much of their loyal clientele was African-American. Not only did they proudly serve any person who came in the door, they even offered credit to the African-Americans. This is something else that seems routine in today's world, I assure it was not back then. They knew their clients, they treated them with respect, and they trusted them. In return, my Great Grandfather was trusted, treated with respect, and had a loyal customer base. He also had very little problems collecting on the debts that were owed to them. That is what happens in a reciprocal relationship built on trust.
Again, they weren't perfect. While Delbert served in the Navy during WWI and fought off the Kaiser's men, I am told he liked the ponies a little too much. Despite all that, he didn't tolerate someone being treated as a second class citizen. Delbert's daughter in law was a fiery red haired Irish Catholic (God rest her sainted Irish soul). Her family knew all too well, both in the homeland (Ireland), and here in America, how poorly Irish Catholics were often treated.
I can't tolerate it either. I don't care if you're African-American, Homosexual, Hispanic, Muslim, Jewish, or even a pledge. Second class citizenship in America, in SAE, is unacceptable. We are better than that as Americans, and we are better than that as SAEs. Many of y'all may think I am crazy, maybe I am? You may also think that its a leap to make some of the comparisons in the above sentence. I assure you it is not. At some point in time you have to take a stand, even if it makes you uncomfortable, even if it leaves you vulnerable. At the end of the day, there is never a wrong time, to do the right thing.
It has been a while since I last wrote a blog, I feel it is time to blow the dust off this keyboard and get to blogging. Brooke asked me why I hadn't blogged in a while, I told her its because I feel like my mother is the only one reading them. She is probably 50% of the people who regularly comment. Regardless, I realized that I probably need to get cracking, I have a lot of stories to tell.
I have been extremely busy with work lately, we are on the cusp of doing some amazing things. The holidays came and went, and I had a fantastic time with my girls (and family). We even got (another) trip to Disney, and the girls were surprised by Aunt Brooke, Aunt Callie, and Baby Brayden joining us. It has been a crazy few months since I last wrote. Not too mention, its literally snowed about 70 inches here in Park Ridge. I have not seen the ground here in Chicago since prior to Christmas. Seriously. Im not sure grass even exists any more. We have to google image "grass" just to prove to Hadley that grass once did surround us all. Im not really sure there is light at the end of the winter tunnel, I feel like we moved to a prison camp run by the Gulag. Welcome to "Chiberia."
Speaking of Gulag, there are a lot of reasons to dislike Sochi. I don't care much for the Winter Olympics to begin with, but Sochi is terrible. Not only do they have a ridiculous anti-gay law, they are going around killing all the stray dogs. On top of that, the hotels are not finished, the infrastructure was never completed, they have practically manufactured a city for this Olympics. I can't imagine what it will look like 6 months when the circus leaves town. I also love NBC's converge of this charade, as they mentioned the "pivotal experiment" of Soviet Russia. It is all a sh*tshow. Below is a picture of the tap water, don't drink it or wash your face with it. Seriously. You can get really close to the person using the toilet next to you, and don't worry about that live wire in your shower.
Here is the funny thing about the Winter Olympics....as much as I loathe the vast majority of sports (anything having to do with cold weather except maybe a hot tub), I have a soft spot for the entire ceremony. Why you ask? It is because of two nights spent 8 years ago. If memory serves me correct, the Olympics were in Italy that year. Due to the time difference, a lot of the live action was shown at night. I remember I couldn't sleep those two nights in February. You may think that is normal for me, since I suffer from sever anxiety and can't sleep now. Truth be told. that wasn't always the case. I used to be able to sleep with relative ease, and not spend my nights worrying about everything. Those two nights, I couldn't. Not only was it nerves, it was also because I couldn't get comfortable. I feel like I was sleeping on a plastic chair, that every time I moved, sounded like polar bear chewing on a gigantic rubber tire. Truth be told, I was actually "sleeping" on a plastic chair, and the tv was my only company. Well, I also had the regular, somewhat hypnotic, beeping from Brooke's machine. We were in the hospital waiting for baby Reagan. I had no idea what to expect. Being a parent for the first time, having a little girl, I wasn't sure exactly how much my world was about to be turned upside down. I can recall watching so many horrible sporting events those nights because it was (literally) the only thing on. Those Olympics that I once hated, actually helped pass the time. I can't watch them now and not think of those two nights. I actually have grown to appreciate the WO, and its all because I feel like we bonded for about 48 hours. No matter what, when you associate something with such a positive emotion like my love for Reagan, how can you not have a soft spot for it?
Brooke once told me that Reagan would be the best thing to every happen to me, I've blogged about that before. Yesterday, we went to downtown Chicago for breakfast at The American Girl store to celebrate her 8th birthday. This past Friday, I watched Reagan dance her butt off with her friends, as if I wasn't even there. It hurt a little bit, but thats okay. She is getting to be a young girl, but she would eventually come back to me at the dance (I hope she always does, come back to her daddy). No one was more excited for me winning the dance off as Reagan was. She thought I roped the moon that night. I couldn't get over how big she looked on the dance floor. I can't believe how fast the time has flown by. I would give anything to hold my baby Reagan again, or have her yell out "sit next to me Daddy" as soon as we get to the restaurant. She is changing, and if I want to remain part of her life, I must change, too. I consider myself Lou Gehrig for having those 4 girls, and it all started with Reagan.
This morning we watched Father of the Bride together, I warned her it was going to make me cry. She said I cry a lot, which is true. This scene gets me no matter how many times I watch it. I told her I will probably embarrass her on her wedding day, I'll be such a mess. I love seeing Reagan come downstairs in her princess dress in the morning, just as Steve Martin talked about in the movie. I will cherish those little moments forever.
So here we are, the week that my BFF turns 8. It has been an incredible 8 years. I am a better man because that little girl is in my life. I know that in the same amount of time that has already passed, I will be teaching her to drive. Im not ready for her to grow much more. We want her to stay little forever, and we know that can't happen. So, I will embrace the fact that I have a front row seat to the greatest movie I have ever seen. Thanks for letting me be your Daddy, Reagan. I love you "more than all the stars in the sky, and fish in the sea." Happy 8th birthday, my love.
