Y - Youth

I have worked with youth in some form for over 20 years. Whether a youth group leader, camp counselor, teacher or youth minister.

Despite all the kids I worked with, the ones I most remember were from 15 to 20 years ago. These were the high school kids who were part of one of the first youth groups I led. And the kids who attended the summer camp where I was the counselor and sometimes the dean.

At the time, I was just doing my job. I did love these kids and poured my heart into serving them, but it was just my life at the time. Planning lessons, counseling, visiting, connecting, going on outings and all the other stuff involved was just part of it.

However, as time has gone by, social media has entered the scene and over the last several years, I have reconnected with many of them. I get to see how their lives turned out. They are married and have children. They've gone off and started their careers. Some of them are doing amazing things.

A few of them are ministers. There are several teachers. One girl is a National Park ranger. Several served in the military (a few did not come back). Many have started their own businesses. Most of them have started their families. And a few of them I am still close enough to that we talk on a regular basis. It has been amazing to watch them all grow into adults.

Now that they are grown, I can't help but wonder what influence I had. Whether good or bad or nothing. I was quite involved in a number of their lives and know that I shaped part of the way they think.

Whatever influence I may or may not have had, today I am just thankful that I got to be part of their journey through life.

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This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

M - Maurice Smith

I have written many times about how I was not the most adept at social intelligence while in high school. I had earned the nerd title years earlier and had settled well into my role. I knew who I was and if I ever forgot for a moment, I had someone nearby to remind me and put me back in my place.

However, those people who kept me in place were restricted to my school life. Since I spent most of my waking hours there, I had subconsciously allowed them to affect how I defined myself even outside of the school building. Though, sometimes I forgot who I had been told I was and took on a different persona.

The place this was the most obvious was at my church.

My brothers and I were quite active in our church youth group. We went to every activity, concert, camp, trip, and outing. And we were lucky to be in a church that had a vibrant youth ministry.

Over the course of the many years I spent in that church, I saw a few different youth ministers come and go and I have several I remember fondly. But this post is about a particular one named Maurice Smith. Maurice was largely responsible for allowing me to explore who I was outside of the confines of my school-appointed identity.

Maurice's leadership of the group was over 30 years ago and I honestly don't remember much of it. However, I do remember a few key practices he had that the previous leader did not. Maurice believed in handing us more responsibility for ourselves and our group. He aimed to make us leaders.

When at school, I was timid and understood the social rules and what could and could not be gotten away with but at the church I was outspoken. I made decisions. I made my opinions about things known and actively participated in discussions.

Part of this confidence came from the way Maurice practiced the duties of his ministry. I remember handling a large part of the logistics for bringing a band into town when I was only 14 years old. Our church was hosting a youth music festival and there was a lot that needed to be done. Rather than the church just taking care of all the details and telling us when to show up, Maurice delegated out the tasks that needed to be done to us. And we did much more than set up chairs.

A tent needed to be ordered and set up, an outdoor stage had to be brought in, the band had to be hired and all their demands met, and tons of other things involving food, games, seating, transportation, advertising, et cetera had to be taken care of.

Maurice saw all this as a learning opportunity. He put me in charge of securing the band and staying on top of the communication with them. And I did. He was always there to offer help, but I did it.

After the completion of the show, the group decided to start a small production company to bring more big-name acts into town. And with Maurice's leadership, we did just that. I was even the president of our little company. We only put on a few small shows, but it was very empowering for a bunch of young kids.

This is just one of the many examples of how Maurice reshaped the way I thought about myself. When I was in this setting, I was not only more outgoing but I was one of the leaders. However, I did not notice this contrast until one particular church event.

There was a girl in our youth group that went to my school. One Sunday evening, we were having a cookout at a member's home and she had invited two of our classmates. Both basketball players.

I had no idea they were there. I was in the back helping with setting up the meal while most of the youth were out front playing a game. When everything was set up, one of the adults asked me to go call everyone to the back to eat. I ran around the corner of the house to yell to the crowd and noticed the two guys from my school.

Suddenly, I was tongue-tied. A timidity crept over me that kept me from yelling for the crowd. The guys did nothing wrong and were not people who gave me trouble at school, but their presence intimidated me.

I went quietly from group to group telling each of them and the exodus toward the food started without me having to really put myself out there. I didn't even realize I had switched back into school mode, but Maurice noticed.

He called me out on it later and helped me recognize what had happened. I had suddenly stifled who I was because of a couple of people who were in the room. He then helped me see that if those two guys caused me to hide that much, then I was probably totally hidden every time I actually walked into school. And he was right.

Maurice made sure that I recognized I was a fairly popular and well-liked person everywhere except school. And it may be difficult to break free from high school stereotypes, but I had to take some responsibility for how people saw me. There are a whole host of reasons for why I had become withdrawn at school, but that was not what I had to do. That was just the reaction that had grown comfortable to me. If I was willing to step out of my comfort zone, I could take a little more control.

This realization did not change me overnight, but it did start a process. It challenged me to be me. Not just when it felt safe, but all the time. To go ahead and put myself out there. That conversation with Maurice was a direct cause of what lead me to talk to Jeff (story here) who became my best friend and best man at my wedding. This also lead to my last semesters of high school being incredible.

Maurice laid the groundwork for a couple of years before the events of that night, but I view the conversation that evening as one of the pivotal moments in my life. And I cannot thank that man enough.

Thank you, Maurice. You have no idea the difference you made for me.

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This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

J - Joe

Before leaving the States, I lived in Indianapolis for a few years. My first job in that city was working in one of the city schools. I worked in the "Severely Disabled Special Education" classroom. Many of the students in that classroom were non-verbal. Some were in wheelchairs. A few were not even capable of taking care of personal hygiene issues. There were autistic children, one with Down Syndrome, one that was blind, non-verbal and unable to care for himself. Several other ailments existed in this classroom as well. Each student had their own combination of challenges to face.

Of all the students in that class, there were three that were capable of having a normal conversation. One of them is who I am writing about today. His name is Joe.

Joe was a 12-year-old African American student with some sort of high-functioning autism and some other cognitive issues.  A person actually could talk to Joe for a few minutes and (other than a bit of a speech impediment) not realize he had any issues.

Joe could not read and I doubt he ever will be able to. He could not even recognize letters. Joe's mental state was probably as advanced as it is ever going to be. There are specialized schools who may have been able to be more help, but Joe came from a poor inner-city family and a public school day-care setting was the best he was ever going to get.

Whatever setbacks he had facing him, Joe was a notoriously happy kid. And he was one of my favorites in the class. I know a teacher is not supposed to have favorites, but we do. And Joe seemed to adore me. He was at my side constantly. He would get a bit moody when one of the other teaching assistants had to do something with him so I could work with another student.

Joe is one of those kids that I really wanted to take under my wing and be of more assistance to but teacher-student relationships can be tricky so it is better to just not get involved. However, when I left that school to go work in an actual autism center, I got Joe's information. If I was no longer his teacher, I could be of more help.

On the last day of school, I drove to his house to go introduce myself to his mother and explain my intentions. Joe and I just wanted to occasionally hang out. Go catch a movie, play video games, whatever. However, getting to his house was an eye-opening experience. Seventeen people lived in this tiny, filthy house. Most of them were kids. There were holes all the way through the walls and I could tell immediately upon meeting Joe's mother that she had a severe substance abuse problem.

She didn't question anything I said and told me I could take Joe any time to do anything. I didn't consider that to be good parenting, but I was sure that was far from the biggest problem in that house.

For the next year, I picked Joe up about every other week and we went to do something. We went to see the latest Fast & Furious movie in the theater. We went back to my house to play XBOX. We went and played catch in the park. He never cared what we did. He just loved having someone who paid attention to him. And I enjoyed knowing that I was taking him to do things that he never got to do.

Joe never asked for anything. He was always happy to do whatever I had in mind. However, once I said, "What would you like to eat tonight?" He told me he wanted a steak. He had a steak once and loved it. So, we went to Applebee's.

As soon as we stepped inside, he said, "I don't like this place." I was surprised.

"Have you been here before?"

He said, "There's just too many white people."

Here's a picture of me.
In case you can't tell, I'm pretty white.

I asked, "You don't like white people?"

"No. All that money. They think they're better than everybody else."

I got down low and said, "Joe, look at me. I am white."

Joe stepped back and looked me up and down. He then laughed and waved me away. "You're not white. You're pretty cool."

That was intended as a compliment, so I took it that way.

He did agree to eat there and was thrilled that we got a black waitress. We sat and ate steak and fat baked potatoes while he told me all the reasons he hates white people. It was an interesting dinner.

I stayed in touch with one of the other aides from Joe's classroom and she knew that I saw Joe now and then. She would occasionally call me to tell me about things Joe needed. Maybe Joe did not have a winter coat or his shoes were falling apart or he needed a haircut. I would try to get these things for him or find someone who could.

Getting involved in Joe's life was an eye-opening experience. I always knew I had it better than most people, but seeing it face-to-face is different than hearing about it. However, I didn't do it to be a big help to him. Yes, I know I helped, but my original intention was actually for myself also.

When I moved to Indianapolis, my youngest had just turned 18 and she did not come with me. I was without my kids for the first time in over twenty years and I missed having kids to do stuff with. That may sound immature, but it's part of who I am. Today, I live in Vietnam and despite the language barrier, I try to engage with the kids in my neighborhood. I just love it.

That experience with Joe introduced me to how other people live and struggle. Conversations with him and some people in his family really opened my eyes to how blinded we are by our own circumstances and experiences when we observe the world. There are realities that they could not see due to their life experience and the same is true of me. It is difficult to see outside our beliefs, prejudices, customs, culture, and traditions.

I don't know what Joe got from me other than a few fun days, but I know I learned a lot from him.

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This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

K - Kelso

I'm sitting here watching That 70's Show and enjoying the exploits of everyone's favorite idiot Micheal Kelso.

Kelso may have been the moron on that show, but one of his endearing qualities was his willingness to do just about anything someone dared him to do. Every time I watch this show, I am reminded of the guy we had in our group who had that same quality.

His name was John and was never one to turn down a challenge. Although, he was no idiot. He just enjoyed a good time and usually made us pass the hat around before doing whatever he was about to do.

John would be the one to walk out on the ice when the pond froze over to test it for the rest of us. He would climb to the top of a tree so we could cut it down while he was in it. He would eat the stuff we found in the back of the fridge that didn't look like it could be trusted. He would sit in a port-o-potty when we tipped it over so we could see what happened. John was great to have around. He was always good for entertainment.

Of course, anything would have worked. We were usually pretty drunk when we came up with this stuff.

Maybe Society Should Have a Warning Label

Every now and then, something happens in America and I get to hold my smug head high and say "Not me, I don't live there." I may be from the States, but I've been safely on the other side of the world in China for the last 18 months. Therefore, I will accept no responsibility for the events that have prompted some of the recent headlines.

Tide Pod Challenge 

First, let's not even get into how stupid someone has to be to think that eating soap would be a good idea. For generations, parents washed kids' mouths out with soap as a punishment. Now, the kids are doing it willingly. There are plenty of jokes already written about this and a ton of memes. You've already seen everything floating around social media and can look them up for yourself if you wish.

Stop discouraging people from eating Tide Pods. It won't work. The whole reason the world's in the mess it's in goes back to the very first people being told NOT to eat something.

— Minor Character (@brettminor) January 23, 2018

People (especially young people whose brains haven't fully developed yet) doing stupid things is not really surprising. Still stupid. Feel free to shame them all you like (I know I do). But not surprising. A huge percentage of the world's population are idiots and always will be. What surprises me is the reactions that people have to the stupid trends.

Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, Pinterest, Google and other sites started getting pressure to remove all videos featuring idiots eating Tide Pods. Some sites even started giving 'strikes' to people who uploaded content showing people eating Tide Pods. Some people have even suggested holding these companies liable for even having the videos. Click here for an article explaining it all.

Tide even hastily threw together a video to stop people from ingesting their non-food product.

What should Tide PODs be used for? DOING LAUNDRY. Nothing else.

Eating a Tide POD is a BAD IDEA, and we asked our friend @robgronkowski to help explain. pic.twitter.com/0JnFdhnsWZ

— Tide (@tide) January 12, 2018

I find it pathetic that pressure was put on them to have to say anything at all to the idiots who are well aware of what they are doing, but I respect the attitude that Tide took with their public service announcement.

They have been active in getting information out there about not eating laundry detergent and have helped to get internet videos removed, but they have stated that they will not change the appearance of their product. To read the article, click here. To summarize their stance: Stupid people are stupid people and we cannot change that. You're lucky we are even acknowledging these idiots. There's already a warning label on the box. That should be enough.

And I couldn't agree more.

It bothers me that pressure is being put on anyone to do something about this. No one is to blame for any idiot older than a toddler purposefully chewing on a Tide Pod. Not a website, not the manufacturer, not another person who did it, no one other than the person who made this choice. That person is a moron and YouTube cannot be blamed for that.

YouYube also has videos showing how to grow a garden, fix your car, ace an interview, etc. If you just have to do something you saw on the internet, have an honor student help you choose a better video.

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Next topic, Crock-Pot Mania

SPOILER ALERT: If you are a watcher of the hit TV show This is Us and are not familiar with the big plot-twist that happened earlier this week, do not continue. You have been warned.

Now, I do not watch This is Us. I am not really even sure what it is about, but it is in the news this week because they killed off one of the main characters. Jack Pearson, the "world's greatest dad" dies in a house fire that was started by a crock pot.

Now, other than entertainment news, this doesn't seem like much of a news story. However, it has grown into something more. This sometimes happens when people are stupid. If you haven't noticed, this is the theme I am running with.

People all over the country are looking at their crock pots with suspicion and wondering if they are safe to have in their homes. It has gotten so bad that both the writers of the show and crock pot companies have had to issue statements explaining the safety of these devices.

Apparently, many of the fans of this show don't realize that this crockpot was a fictional item that was 20 years old and had a faulty switch that "had to be fiddled with a little" to get it to work. Emphasis on the word fictional. This was a literary device used to produce the outcome the writers were going for. They could have used an electric knife, a dishwasher, just faulty wiring, or had him stumble down the stairs and break his neck. That's it. But…as with the Tide Pod Challenge, people are stupid. Now, they're scared of their slow cookers. I don't even know what to say.

Maybe we could learn a lesson from Mexico where even their drug lords are more trustworthy.

Good. Nothing to worry about. If there's anything I know about international drug lords, it's that they're impeccably honest. pic.twitter.com/ZyvbgHN3Xa

— Minor Character (@brettminor) January 26, 2018

Halloween Prepared

I stated in yesterday's post that I am not a fan of uninvited Trick or Treaters coming to my door. Once again, I have nothing against the practice, but participating is supposed to be optional. Knowing that I will be home tonight, but not planning to run to the door to hand out candy every five minutes, I have gathered a few items from around my house to give to the cretins who choose to knock on my door despite the signals saying "Stay away."

Namely, the unlit porch light and the huge sign on my front door that reads "STAY AWAY!"

For those misguided souls, I have a box beside my door of goodies to hand out so they will not walk away empty handed.

• Canned beets
• Subscription card for TIME magazine
• Bag of clothes originally intended for Goodwill
• Damaged XBOX 360 controller
• Empty bottle of True Blood
• Amway recruitment literature
• Rolls of Tums
• Math flash cards
• Stack of political door hangers
• A live hamster
• A dead hamster
• Keys to '76 AMC Hornet stationwagon
• Packs of Sweet n' Low for the diabetic children
• Expired Vicodin
• Three crayon halves (burnt sienna, fuzzy wuzzy, beaver)
• Dead Samsung phone battery
• Dental floss
• Blockbuster membership card
• Old issues of TV GUIDE
• Electrical tape
• KFC hand wipes
• A four of clubs 
• McDonalds' Monopoly board (4 Oriental Place markers included)
• VHS tape of Richard Simmons' Sweatin' to the Oldies
• Assorted blown fuses
• Ineffective smoke detector
  
• Twinkies with the creme filling sucked out
• Cassette tape of Jefferson Starship
• Toilet paper tubes
• Plastic drill index
• 2 dozen shrinkwrapped Windows NT 3.5 install CDs
• Ramen noodle flavor packets 

I am hoping that some parent will complain about the treat their child was given. I haven't had a good argument in a while.

Ideally, I won't have to hand out any of these items because people will be decent this year and stay off my porch. For the violators, I am prepared to follow them home and knock on their doors each night during supper until Christmas.

Back In My Day...

Earlier this week, I was teaching a class to a bunch of high school kids and they got to talking about how difficult their lives are. They all complained about the hardships they had to endure because of their parents.  I tried to convince them that their lives were not as bad as they thought they were, but they insisted that they had it rough. I asked them for examples of their mistreatment and got the following answers.

• "It's not fair that my parents make me use a cell phone that only has a 4 megapixel camera."
• "I have to share a bathroom with my sister."
• "My mom won't let me have a ferret."
• "The cable TV in my bedroom didn't have HBO."
• "My cheapskate dad bought me a car that can't even play MP3s on the stereo."
• "My laptop doesn't have a webcam!"

As I tried not to laugh at their ridiculous claims about hardship, one of them noticed my stifled laughter. "Let me guess. You're going to tell us we don't know how good we have it and tell us stories about walking to school in the snow?"

I assured them that I had no such stories, but it was true that they had no idea what hardship was. However, since they wanted to direct it back at me and I always keep my laptop with me, I decided to treat them to a little slideshow.

I have been scanning all our family photos in my computer over the last few months and had the evidence I needed with me, so I didn't need to look very hard. I hooked it up to the class Smartboard and showed them photographic evidence of the real hardship I had experienced as a youth.

For the kid who thought he had it so hard because he didn't have HBO in his bedroom, I showed him what life was like before cable. We had a TV, but we used it like an end table. We would sit in front of it for hours pretending we were one of those rich families who had things like television reception.

Cousin Tabatha, Kyle, me
They weren't always in our size.

While the kids today are decked out in Hollister, Abercrombie & Fitch, Ocean Pacific, and Affliction, we had to wear hand-me-downs.

Hand-me-downs from the 70's!

Trevor trying to stay cool

 We didn't have crazy luxuries like air conditioning either. Sitting in an ice filled cooler in front of a fan was a good as it got.

Trevor hoping the dog doesn't fart again.

This picture was for the benefit of the girl who thought she was being mistreated for being forced to share her bathroom with her sister. We would've loved to have a bathroom and would have happily shared it with the entire family. We didn't concentrate on it much since we didn't have several of the other conveniences kids today are accustomed to.

Kyle was never ready for bed

Kyle had to sleep in a box because my parents refused to waste money on frivolities like beds.

Trevor would scoot down the stairs if not weighted down.

Trevor slept in a clothes basket when he was a baby. We had to put heavy books on top so he wouldn't crawl all over the house.

In chest: me  Closing it: Trevor

I would get shut in a chest each night. Once I brushed all the spiders out, it wasn't so bad.

It wasn't always this way. Eventually, the day came along when Dad announced to us that he was going to build us each our own room. We were so excited. He got to work on the construction and soon presented us with our new living arrangements.

Me, checking out my new place

Here was mine. I had to share it with the mouse traps and the paint, but it was all mine.

Trevor being ungrateful, as usual

This was Trevor's. I thought it was unfair that he had so much more space.

Kyle's really didn't change much.

Red the Cow. Tried to kill my grandmother once.

Next, I addressed the girl who had been whining all through class about not being able to own a ferret. My first pet was a cow and we eventually ate it. None of them could admit they'd ever had to eat one of their pets.

One of the girls piped up, "Well, at least you got to have a pet!"  This was true, but I tried to illustrate for them what having a pet meant when I was a kid. We didn't just have pets. We had to take care of them.

Before I was even out of diapers, I had to feed the cows every morning.

Stupid dog turned over the bowl again

After the cows were fed, I had to make sure the dogs had water.

Trevor: 25 feet off the ground
This cat wouldn't stay off the neighbor's roof

As the years passed, I was happy to get little brothers to share in taking care of the animals. Trevor always went after the ones that wandered off to bring them back home.

The choke hold rarely worked,
but Kyle insisted it was more humane.

Kyle took care of exterminating the ones that got sick.
I just didn't have the stomach for it.

Animals weren't the only things we had to take care of. My parents piled the chores on us as soon as we were able to walk. While kids today complain if they have to take out the trash, we had much more for which we were responsible.

Me learning my way around a hoe

There was gardening to be done.

Trevor and Kyle enjoying the smell

The lines had to be dug out when the sewer backed up.

Kyle doing some dirty work

We had to clean Dad's catch each afternoon.

The neighbor would use our lawn mower,
so we made his daughter work for us.

Harvest the rice patties.

Trevor was always best at tuning out the crying

Babysit the neighbors'kid

Me emptying the hair filter

Clean out the pool.

Me taking measurements for drywall

Remodel the bathroom

Me biting Trevor's fingernails
since I wasn't allowed to use scissors.

When younger, having to take care of little brothers.

Dad and Me

Bring Dad his beer after a long day of fishing.

Me and Kyle

And finally fix dinner, so we could clean up, get to bed, and start again in the morning.

By the time the bell rang signaling the end of class, I had the kids convinced. It took the entire class period and I didn't cover any of the material that their regular teacher had left in the instruction book, but I think I taught them a valuable lesson that day. I have had 40 years to work on my sob story. I do it so much better than them.

My First Love

I mentioned in one of my posts last week that I would try to find time to write over the weekend while Red was here. We hadn't seen each other in over 6 weeks, but I have committed to posting five times per week. We had a great weekend and she left yesterday, but the weekend posts just didn't happen. We each mentioned sitting down to blog, but we never got it done. I do not feel guilty about this, but thought I would point it out.

It was an easygoing weekend. We didn't do much. We watched a few movies and went out to eat a few times. We accomplished exactly what we meant to and that was simply getting to spend some time together. One of the things we did was driving around to the places I grew up. Since I live close to my childhood home, I was able to show it to her. I showed her my elementary and high school and the sites where many of the adventures from this blog took place.

While driving through the old neighborhood, we passed the home of my first girlfriend. Since I was trying to give her a look into my past, I felt obliged to tell her the story.

I hadn't discovered redheads yet,
but isn't she cute.

Christa's father was friends with my father and our families spent a considerable amount of time together. Before we had even entered kindergarten, Christa and I spent more time with each other than other kids our age. Our parents joked that we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Despite not knowing what that meant, it had been said enough times that we began to identify ourselves by those labels. We even went on a date to see Star Wars at the local drive-in.

I was a year older than Christa, so I started school first. Because of life changes, our parents didn't hang out as much and being in different grades we didn't see each other very often at school. Time passed and we forgot about each other.

Several years later, I was in the 8th grade and my mother calls me to the phone.

ME: Who is it?
MOM: It's Christa.
ME: Who?

Once Mom told me who Christa was, I wondered why she was calling me. I hadn't actually talked to her in years. Plus, I was now an awkward pre-teen that had no idea how to talk to girls. I reluctantly took the phone.

ME: (quietly) Hello?
CHRISTA: Brett, I have some bad news. Please don't be mad at me.
ME: Mad about what?
CHRISTA: Well, Bobby asked me out.
ME: (confused) OK. What did you say?
CHRISTA: I said I had to talk to you first.....Can we break up?

I agreed to the break up and hung up the phone. Apparently, while I was under the impression that we had just grown apart and I hadn't even thought about her in several years, she still considered us to be a couple. I wonder if she was feeling neglected.

I have gotten a variety of responses from people when I have recalled this story, but I always look at it the same way. This part of my history should be proof to Red that I am a very low maintenance boyfriend.

Working for the Man

She doesn't look like she would have
homicidal thoughts, but it is a dark
place inside her head.

Another of those milestones has happened that helps to assure me that I am a grown up. My daughter Kirsten has gotten her first job.

She started working at Arby's about two weeks ago and is learning what it means to have a job. She has already gotten to experience the heartache of learning that her friends are getting together and she can't go because she has to work.

So far, she hasn't worked longer than a three hour shift, but still complains when she comes home about how much her feet hurt. I try not to laugh.

She works the cash register and takes orders for people. She's seeing first-hand how nasty and mean some people can be. She has never before had to deal with the public in this manner and is quickly losing her faith in humanity. She already has a disdain for most people and this is just helping to solidify her belief that the world would be a much better place if she were allowed to kill people that ticked her off. Legislation is pending.

Her brother worked at this same restaurant for four years and was instrumental in her getting this job. He didn't want her to get grounded for not finding a job like he did when he was sixteen. He has learned a few things.

Arby's treated Christian well while he was there so I don't have many concerns. There are several places that take advantage of teenage workers knowing that they are new to the work force and don't know any better.

EVIL EVIL EVIL MACHINE

My first job was at Rax, a roast beef place similar to Arby's. They had a clock in/clock out rule that was not fair to the employees, but I didn't realize this until years later. They would round the time cards to the nearest quarter hour, but made sure that it always fell in their favor. When you came to work, you could not clock in until 7 minutes before your shift. If you clocked in a minute earlier, it would round back to the last quarter hour and you would get paid for 7 minutes you hadn't worked. This seemed fair enough, but they timed it that way for clocking out also. If you were scheduled to get off at 10, they would keep you busy until 10:07 to get those 7 free minutes. If you missed it and didn't get to the clock until 10:08, then you had to keep working until 10:22. Once again, to get those 7 free minutes. They did the same for clocking in and out for your breaks. On any given shift, they could get up to 28 minutes of free work out of their employees. Over the course of a pay period you might lose a few hours off every check.

My next job was at Bonanza. I was a busboy. On my first week of work, I got into trouble because I would come in at my scheduled time, clock in and start working. They didn't want their busboys to do that. That wanted us to come in and sit in the break room until we were called. We were required to be there, but were not supposed to clock in until the restaurant got busy enough that we were needed.

That means that I spent many, many hours sitting at work not getting paid. I wasn't allowed to leave, but was not getting paid. They would get us one at a time as the business picked up and occasionally would send someone home after sitting for a few hours. As a teenager, I was happy to go home and not have to work, but hadn't considered that they were demanding my presence, which means they should have been paying me. Years later, I received a check as a result of a class action lawsuit against them because of this illegal practice.

A few years later, I worked the midnight shift at a gas station. I was there by myself and was given a list of things to do every night. Besides this list, I had to take care of customers, watch the pumps to make sure no one drove off, keep the trash taken care of and keep the coffee pots full. Since the station was right off the interstate, there were a lot of customers. I got chewed out every morning when the manager came in and found that I had not completed the list.

I couldn't get him to understand that it was not possible. One of the tasks was to clean the pumps. The way he wanted them cleaned would require about three hours to do them all. That job alone made the list impossible to fulfill. There was about twenty items on the list and three of them were large jobs like the pumps. I honestly could not have completed that list even if I didn't have to worry about customers.

Adults know better and do not normally get taken advantage of in these ways. So when my kids entered the workforce, I tried to keep an eye out to make sure those things did not happen to them. Arby's seems to be a good place to work for a teen and I don't think I have much to worry about. She just needs to learn to deal with people.

Now if I could just get her to bring home roast beef sandwiches like her brother used to.

Crossing State Lines

My daughter Kirsten is sixteen and a junior in high school. She has two years left before she will be headed off to college and I will have this house all to myself. However, today marked one of those milestones that made her want to go right now. Her boyfriend Charles left for college this morning.

His school is about a six hour drive from here in another state, so they will not be seeing each other regularly on weekends. He might make it back home once or twice in a semester. I have split feelings about this.

I have had a couple of years to get used to the idea of my daughter having a boyfriend. I can even witness him kiss her with only a minimal spike in my blood pressure. I have tried to teach my daughter to be strong and independent. I raised her to know who she is and not to ever be defined by her relationship with another person or to allow her tastes, opinions, feelings or desires to be decided by someone else, whether that be a person or societal expectations. She is growing to be that woman and I couldn't be more proud of her.

The topic of Charles leaving for college came up last week over dinner and another adult advised Kirsten to move on and live her life. Do not put her life on hold and wait for him. This advice goes right along with the spirit of the lessons I have taught my daughter over the years and I couldn't agree more....sort of.

While the adult side of me sees the rationale in the advice and I would probably give the same advice to any random teenager, I have a selfish father side as well that wants to protect my daughter. While he is away at college and she decides that he is the man for her, that means she is not dating anyone else. I have absolutely no problem with that. She is basically not dating as long as he is her boyfriend and school is in session. No father would complain with those circumstances.

On the other hand, should a sixteen year old be making this type of commitment? You only get to be young once. Would this be considered putting her life on hold for a boy?

I have decided I have no problem with this and there is one main reason for it. I like this kid. Kirsten has not had a lot of boyfriends, but of the ones she has dated, only two have been quality guys. The last one moved to Georgia. There were a few that were okay. They weren't bad kids, they just took up space. There have been a couple I really did not like. One of them was so bad, I forbid her from ever seeing him again. Yes, I am that type of father. It was for her protection. That kid was trouble.

I wish our culture recognized the wisdom of arranged marriages. Then, I could just forbid her from dating until I found the perfect man for her. I would do a bang-up job, but very very few would make the cut.

The guy she is dating now is great and is the reason I have no problem with this. As long as she considers herself his girlfriend, she is not bringing home some other idiot. Plus, he really is a great kid. His parents were my youth ministers when I was in high school and his father baptized me. I am well aware of the stereotype about preacher's kids, but it is just a general rule of thumb and does not always apply. Charles is attending a Christian college to prepare to be a missionary. He is well mannered, respectful, courteous, never rude and very funny. Most importantly, he treats my daughter very well.

It is these and other qualities that make me happy to see that she is holding on to him. Kirsten is only sixteen and I am not trying to get her married off. It's too soon to think about such things, but one day she will end up with someone. With each guy she has brought home, I couldn't help but imagine what her being married to him would be like. Most of the time, I haven't liked the future I saw for her. Wanting the best for my daughter, I am happy to see that she has found a quality man. As long as she is with him, she is not with some other random douchebag.

I am not suggesting that she needs to marry Charles. Once again, it is too early for that kind of talk, but it is comforting to see that she recognizes what a good guy he is. I am totally supportive of this relationship, but don't tell him.

When The Cat's Away

For the last year, I have spent a substantial amount of time outside of my house. I seems that I have become very busy. A variety of things call me to leave the comfort of my castle. I have a wide array of ways I make money, and most require me to go somewhere else. I am involved with church activities. I leave to go counsel people. I spend as much time as possible with Red. I assume most people have life events that keep them busy as well, but it seems that I am spending more and more time away from the house.

I am not complaining about my schedule and would not even give this a second thought if it weren't for the fact that I have a teenage daughter. Kirsten has a rich social life and is out of the house doing exciting things almost daily, despite her belief (common to many teenagers) that she has no life or friends. However, even with her busy schedule, she does occasionally find herself at home. Since I am always running as well, she sometimes finds herself at home when I am not there.

Myself, Kyle & Trevor

Kirsten is sixteen, so she is old enough that she does not need me there to tend to her every need. However, I remember being a teenager and having the house to myself. Although, in my situation, it wasn't just me. I had two brothers who were just as willing as me to slightly bend the rules when our parents weren't around.

We lived in a big two-story farmhouse and the second floor was all ours. It had our bedrooms and an extra room which we used for our TV, video games and whatever else we wanted to do. A steadfast rule, usually enforced by our mother, was the prohibition of girls from ever going upstairs.

As a parent, I understand the reasoning behind this rule, but as a teenager, I thought it was unreasonable when my friends came over that we couldn't hang out in the game room upstairs if any of our guests were testicle deficient. This was one example of a rule that was not necessarily followed according to my parents' wishes when they were not in the house. We even allowed girls past the game room if they were willing  begged to see the other rooms. 

Sometime during my teenage years, we got our first satellite dish. It was one of those huge 12 foot monsters that made your house look like an outer space communication center. It had to be rotated to point at the specific satellite you wanted to pull a signal from. This was before the days of scrambled channels and subscription fees. If you owned a dish, you had access to every cable channel.

Obviously, there were channels we were not allowed to watch. I don't just mean HBO or late night Cinemax, but the more adult audience specific channels, like Playboy or Spice. These channels only came on late in the evening, but on the rare occasions that Mom and Dad had gone out and left us at home, you could be certain that the dish would be pointed to receive those channels for at least a portion of the night.

 In addition to these and many other violations of the rules, the worst infraction(s) happened one year when my parents left for vacation and left us at home. I don't remember why we didn't go with them. We always had in the past, but this one was just for them. As an adult, I now understand this decision as well.

As Mom and Dad went through the chores that were to be done each day (feed animals, wash dishes, etc.) and warned us to behave ourselves, we honestly didn't have any devious plans to disobey them. After one of the many times that my mother threatened reminded us, once again, that we had the house to ourselves and we were good boys who knew right from wrong, my father, in his infinite wisdom said, "Denise, once we leave, they're going to do whatever they're going to do." My father was much smarter than I gave him credit for at the time.

Within a few hours after they had left, we began to realize the freedom that had been handed to us. The first incident of that freedom happened when I had done something to my brother Kyle, causing him to chase me through the house. As I jumped into the next room, I closed the door behind me to slow his chase, but he came through the door anyway without taking the time to open it. The door was ripped off its hinges and our chase (for the moment) stopped. Luckily, Kyle is pretty handy and was able to repair the damage and we rehung the door.

We hadn't planned on having a party, but as our friends learned that our house was adult free, it happened. I don't want to try to sound like a victim. We welcomed the idea, even if we hadn't thought of it. I will give the details of this party in my next post. Too much happened to try to include it all here.

Now that's
a knife!

Two days before the party, we were playing a game in the front yard. Both of my brothers, Kyle and Trevor were standing with a dozen other teens, beers in hand, playing a game of chicken.

Chicken is a very simple game. Two people stand facing each other about three feet apart. One person throws a bowie knife at the feet of the other, trying to get as close as possible without actually making contact. Extra respect is given to the person who can penetrate the side of the shoe and still not contact the foot. A participant immediately loses if he actually hits the other person or moves his foot when the other person throws. This is called being a 'chicken' and removes you from the game for someone else to take your place.

After going several rounds and the knife getting closer and closer to their feet, they began to raise the stakes, both to scare the other person and to impress the people watching. Kyle started throwing the knife with an underhand toss rather than throwing it straight down between Trevor's feet. This was especially difficult since the blade has to stick in order to get the scoring point, but he was doing it successfully each time.

Trevor did not appreciate this technique since Kyle had to toss the knife up causing it to come close to Trevor's body and sometimes even his face before it would drop and sink into the dirt. However, that was part of the strategy designed to get the other person to move. After Trevor demanded he change his method several times, Kyle performed a beautifully executed low toss, which caused the blade to come up just under Trevor's groin. Trevor did not move.

Trevor bent down to pull the knife out of the ground. When he stood up, he had a smirk on his face and we all saw the look in his eye. We all knew what was about to happen.

Kyle stared hard at Trevor and through his teeth whispered, "You son of a bitch."

Trevor smiled as he raised his arm. He quickly let it drop and sank the blade in the center of Kyle's foot.

Kyle let out a howl, but stood his ground. He then looked at the crowd and yelled, "Did I move? I stayed still, right?"

Several members of the awestruck crowd agreed that he had not moved. He then pulled out the blade, handed it to Trevor and said, "You lose."

He ran into the house to patch up his new injury and we could already hear the blood sloshing in his boots as he moved. After a few minutes, I went in to check on him and was appalled to discover the trail of blood across the carpet and spray of blood on the bathroom wall from when he had swung his leg up into the sink.

I yelled, "Look at this mess!"

Kyle retorted, "Look at my foot!"

I looked at the bloody mess of the sink and the crimson settling into the carpet. "Uh, yeah. That looks awful...look at this mess!"

While Kyle tended to his foot, Trevor and I started cleaning up the blood before it dried hoping that would keep it from staining the carpet.

Now that I am a parent, every time I come home after my daughter has been home without me, I check the 'recently viewed' list on Netflix, examine the condition of the door jambs and demand to see her feet. I have explained that these inspections are for her own protection and necessary precautions for me to perform as a responsible parent, but she doesn't seem to understand. I don't tell her why I am checking because I don't want to give her any ideas.

So far, all inspections have been to my satisfaction proving that my daughter has never tried anything. Hopefully, she never will.

Mother's Day

I hope that everyone had a wonderful Mother's Day and were able to show your mother how much you appreciate her.  My mother is on a trip to see her mother, so I called her this morning to wish her a Happy Mother's Day.

Knowing that I had no Mother's Day plans after church, I grabbed some of the kids running around and asked about their plans for day today.

My daughter is the one that says she will not be doing anything with her mother today. She did spend time with her mom. I guess she just didn't know she would at the time.

 

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!

90%

 

Stuntman Training #3 - Creative Uses for Living Room Furniture

I mentioned briefly in previous posts that I used to work with a Halloween Haunted Hayride. So many great (or terrible, depends on how you look at it) things happened during these hayrides that I will never run out of posts to write concerning them. Before I tell this story, let me explain how this hayride works.

Let me 'splain.
No, there is too much.
Let me sum up.

Every year, the local Jaycees host a Haunted Hayride for the public. It is a huge money maker for the yearly Jaycees budget. They pull hay wagons through the woods and actors are set up in various scenes throughout the trail to scare the people who paid money to have their dates jump into their arms or see their children cry. It is great fun. However, the real fun was had by the volunteer actors out in the woods.

The Jaycees organize this event by getting local farmers to provide and drive tractors with wagons to pull people. They man a concession stand and sell tickets. They have guys working security to make sure no one wanders into the woods during this time and they have people monitoring the crowd. These tasks use up all of their manpower, so the scary scenes in the woods are provided by locals who volunteer to participate. About 150 people are in the various scenes scattered throughout the trail.

The locals volunteering to build and maintain a scene are not caring benefactors wanting to give back to the community. They are almost always local 15 to 25 year olds who see this as an opportunity to hang out in the woods dressed in crazy costumes, drink insane amounts of alcohol and act like idiots.

The volunteers are assigned their area and given access to it a week before the hayride. That time is used to build their scene, dig fire pits or do whatever needs to be done to have it completed before the following weekend. I have had a scene with my brothers or friends four different years. It was during one of these weekends that I wrote about setting my brother on fire for the amazement of the customers. However, this story does not involve me.

This was just too much fun.

My youngest brother, Trevor, had a scene with his friends on this particular year. After a weekend of debauchery, extreme drunkenness, running naked through the woods and hitting on girls in neighboring scenes, it was now Sunday and time to clean up their area.

After filling in their fire pit, collecting all the empty beer cans and loading everything into their vehicles, they were left with the old couch they had dragged out there. It had worked great for their scene, but no one wanted it now. It was old and moldy, but they couldn't leave it there. However, the vehicles were full, there was no place to put it and no one wanted to come back once they left.

Pay attention, kids!

Still being legally inebriated after the weekend events, they hatched a plan. They strapped a chain around the ends of the couch and decided to drag it out.

Illinois state law prohibits open alcohol containers inside a moving vehicle, so my brother and his friend Chet decided to ride on the couch, which would allow them to continue to drink. We will overlook the fact that they were all underage and the legality of dragging a couch down the road behind a truck. Give them a break, they had been drinking for three whole days.

Maneuvering out of the wooded area proved to be a challenge, but they eventually reached the road. Once on the road, the coach moved rather smoothly. Since the couch was positioned backwards, Trevor and Chet enjoyed the looks they were getting from passing motorists as they continued down the road unaware that the driver was experimenting with how fast the couch could go before there would be a problem.

Trevor first became aware of their high rate of speed when one of the legs came loose as the truck approached 30 mph. Once the leg came off, sparks started flying from the corner. Trevor and Chet turned around to yell to the driver to slow down. He was either unable to hear them or refused to respond, but he continued to accelerate.  They began to yell louder when they saw the railroad tracks quickly approaching.

Most couches are not equipped
with seat belts

Seconds after the truck passed over the tracks, the back of the couch caught the first track. The road had been smooth up to this point, but this small gap caused the couch to flip.

Trevor and Chet were launched into the air as the tumbling couch came apart beneath them. The fold-out bed inside was exposed and Trevor landed on the springs with a shower of sparks. Chet landed on the road and skidded off into a ditch.

Trevor, knowing that he was moving too fast to escape without injury held on to the quickly disintegrating bed frame while blinded by the sparks flying everywhere. This wild ride continued until the drunken driver attempted a sharp curve causing the coach to swing wide, hit the ditch and break loose from the chain. The final resting place was a mess of wires, springs and shredded upholstery with Trevor entangled in it all.

Once the dust cleared and Trevor was removed from the mess, it was discovered that he only had minor scrapes and bruises, but he was pretty shaken up. Once they found Chet, they drank a beer to celebrate what had just been survived.

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For other failed stuntman stories, check out the following links:
Don't Try This at Home
This Is Why My Body Is Falling Apart Today
Stuntman Training #1
Stuntman Training #2 - Playing with Fire