My l’il anthropologist

So, yesterday I was watching the Travel Channel – one of those shows about a tribe in Brazil or somewhere that starts with the “Warning: Indigenous Nudity” message.  The group in question was completely naked, except for huge wooden lip plugs, and feather headdresses glued to the foreheads of the women.

About halfway through, the LittleDoo wakes up from his nap and wanders downstairs.  He sits down and watches the show with me, not saying a word.  This is highly unusual – unless Special Agent Oso is on, he always wants me to turn on one of his shows.

After it ends, we had this conversation:

Me: What did you think of the show?

Boo: It was good.

Me: What did you think about the people?

Boo: They were big.

Me: ?

Boo: Big enough to go outside yif no shoes on.

Then, later on, discussing things further with Mama:

Mama: Why do you think they were naky [trans. "Naked"]?

Boo: Maybe they wanted some sun.

Dealbreakers

I have been filling out a lot of those stupid “Top 5″ things on Facebook lately, as I spend a lot of time late at night with a baby on my lap in front of the computer.  It got me to trying to think of an all time top five – things that are the absolute, undeniable best things for their given category.  The Wife and I play these sorts of hypothetical games a lot, and here is what we came up with.

The rules:

To qualify, each selection must be the number one possibility in its category, and number two can’t even be close.  No one with a brain could possibly make a reasonable case for something else to compete for the top spot.  This eliminates a lot of stuff – for example, The Wife and I agree that Annie Proulx writes the best short stories, but I wouldn’t throw rocks at someone who made a case for Jhumpa Lahiri.  These things are the unqualified and unarguable greatest ever.  Not agreeing is akin to still having a “W” sticker on your car – it tells me everything I need to know about you. [If you disagree with any of these choices, best not to let me know.  I'll fight you.  Dirty.  With broken bottles.]

1.  Cuisine – Mexican food

This one was easy, to the point where it seems redundant to even mention it.  Chips and salsa by themselves defeat every other type of cuisine.  Guacamole, carne asada, taquitos, enchiladas, street tacos, menudo, posole, burritos, fajitas… it’s all here.  Wash it all  down with a couple of Pacificos or a margarita.  I’m partial to Cali-Mex, but every regional variation is great. From Rick Bayless to your abuelita to Del Taco to Little League snack bar nachos, Mexican reigns supreme.

2.  Morning Beverage – Coffee

Nothing without caffeine is even worth mentioning, so you can keep your fresh squeezed OJ.  A good hot cup of regular American coffee is the only way to go.  Ideally, the coffee should be freshly ground, and if you’re feeling jazzy you could even make it in a french press.  In a pinch though, AM/PM coffee will do the trick.  Cream and/or sugar is acceptable (if you’re a wuss), but for heaven’s sake leave out those abominable flavored creamers, or worse, flavored beans.  Don’t be bringing your Starbucks crap in here either – lattes are fine and all but they are no comparison, and Starbucks can’t brew a decent cup of regular coffee any more than I can fart the national anthem.  Energy drinks are for low-pants wearing no ‘counts who hang out in front of the Palm Market.

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The smell of coffee  is almost enough by itself.  When you mix in the fact that it is the perfect complement to any and all breakfast foods, as well as a perfectly acceptable stand-alone experience, it is clearly the only possible choice.

3.  Music – The Rolling Stones

If you know me at all, you saw this one coming.  It’s all about the Stones.  The greatest rock band of all time.  The Beatles are great and all, but John and Paul can’t hold Mick and Keef’s jocks. They peaked between 1968-1972, and the albums they recorded in this period are the finest examples of straight up rock ‘n’ roll, blues rock, and country rock ever produced.

4.  TV Show – The Office (UK)

We had to discuss this one for a bit, but before long the answer was obvious.  If you haven’t seen this yet, do yourself a favor and check it out, especially if you’re a fan of the American version.  You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll cheer, you’ll be glad you don’t live in Slough.  Funny and poignant, too good to miss.  If you rent the series, be absolutely sure to get the Christmas special that ends the series.

5.  Comic Book Series – Sandman

Alan Moore is overrated.  There, I said it.  Neil Gaiman’s Sandman is hands down the best ongoing comic series ever written.  Seventy-some-odd issues of genius. With its goth stylings, brooding main character, and Shakespearian aspirations, it ought to be insufferable and pretentious.  It isn’t.  It is simply a great read from beginning to end, and unlike anything else in any medium.

WWPD?

I have been trying to be a better man lately.  This is not easy, especially considering what a poor job I have made of it for so long.

It starts with the deceptively difficult question of just what exactly a man is supposed to be.  Trying to figure out what I am even trying for is half the battle.

Inevitably, every man looks first to his father as the example of and standard to which a man is held, for better or worse.  It has been shocking to me in the last several months to realize just how much I have emulated my own father’s example, without even realizing it.  He has many admirable qualities, of course, but these are not the ones I am talking about.  I am like him in ways I never thought possible, and knowing this is profoundly humbling.  I have also, of course, managed to make more than my fair share of original mistakes.

I think that this is a common problem for the men of my generation, many of whom were raised by their moms and then drifted into a sort of extended adolescence in their twenties.  We were so hellbent on avoiding our father’s example of getting married, banging out a few kids, getting a job you hate in order to support them, and then going through a bitter divorce (all before the age of thirty) that we instead chose to do nothing at all.  Oh sure, we might have got a degree or two, or even gotten married, but we have had a really hard time committing to the idea of adulthood.  Rather than attempt to be better men than our fathers, and to learn from their mistakes, we have decided to skip the concept of manhood altogether and to remain boys, eschewing both responsibility and the dignity that comes with it.

I’ve had enough of that crap, and I know that my wife has.

This has led me to cast about in search of better role models.  I mean, I do what I can to figure this stuff out on my own, but it would be nice to have a guide to fall back on.  I don’t know any men that aren’t at least as screwed up as I am, so my friends and family are out.  Politicians, sports figures, rock stars?  Not so much.  Our favorite cultural archetypes are either emotionally retarded lunks like the dad from The Wonder Years or whining, codependent weasels, like the protagonist from Everybody Loves Raymond.  I don’t want to be either of those guys.  Can’t we come up with something better than that?

I am a Christian, and so the example of Jesus seems the obvious place to start.  This has been very helpful, but there are a couple of problems here.  For one thing, Jesus was not, at least in the literal, human sense, a husband or a father.  So, no direct example there.  Also, being as He was perfect, He didn’t have to spend a lot of time trying to make up for His mistakes.  There’s lots of good theoretical stuff from Him and the apostles (the book of James is an especial favorite), but somehow I feel like I sometimes need something even more obvious, less abstract, to wrap my head around.  There is a tremendous amount of guidance with the overall themes, but not nearly as much in the way of case-specific examples.  I believe that the truths are universal, but something not set in the middle east 2000 years ago might be easier to digest.

So I figured I should look to heroes of fiction, who will represent ideals better than regular mortals ever could anyway.  That’s their whole point, isn’t it?  I tried to think of men from books or the movies who embody what it is that I am after.  Liam Neeson’s portrayal of the title character in Rob Roy has always been right up there for me, but again, this is a bit on the impractical side.  I don’t often find myself in situations that call for sword fighting, and have never had occasion to hide in a rotted cow carcass.

Thinking hard on this, I eventually came up with Charles “Pa” Ingalls, as depicted by Michael Landon on Little House on the Prairie (you know you watched it during summer vacation when you were a kid – admit it already).  Not the real guy, or the actor portraying him, but the character.  Pa is, to my way of thinking, pretty much the perfect example of what a man is supposed to be.  The ideal husband and father, in just about every way.  Nothing is more important to him than his family, and he demonstrates his love for them in everything he does.  Hard working, faithful, loving.  Gentle, but willing to fight to protect his family.  Filled with dignity, but totally lacking in pride.  A man of faith, and a source of strength to those around him.  He is not controlled or crippled by his fears or doubts.  Fair in business, but not to be taken advantage of.  A man of honor, whose word is his bond.  Pa would never break a promise.  Slow to anger, but unafraid to stand up for what is right.  Speaks his mind when needed, but never hurts unnecessarily.  Never shies away from doing what needs to be done, no matter how unpleasant.  He never complains, not because he doesn’t suffer, but because he is deeply satisfied with his lot in life.

Maybe other people have a different ideal or concept of what a man is supposed to be, but I am happy with Pa.  This is a character whose example I can strive to be man enough to follow.  It has actually been very helpful to me to think about how he might handle any moral or masculine quandry that I find myself in.  Guidance from channel 5…?  Whatever.  Call it sad or ridiculous, but I’ll take it.  I need any help I can get.  What Would Pa Do?

On being a grownup

When I got to my boss’ house this morning, he was eating grocery store bakery cookies for breakfast. He grinned at me, and said “I promised myself when I was a kid that when I grew up I would eat cookies for breakfast. And now I’m doing it.” He was pretty pleased with himself. It got me thinking about what exactly it means to be a grownup.

You see, it has become increasingly apparent to me, at age 31, that I am now an official grownup. Embarrassing, I know- I really wasn’t comfortable with the idea until pretty recently. It all started several years back, when I finally wore out my favorite pair of camouflage pants. I was grumbling that I needed to go to M&I Army Surplus to get a new pair (I hate spending money on clothes, and it takes me about six months of muttering before I will finally give in) when The Wife (then The Girlfriend) asked me if I didn’t think I was getting a little too old for the army surplus pants. To my shock and horror, I realized she was right.

Now, many years later, I am married, a parent, nearly a homeowner (I hope), and have a graduate degree with the student loans to prove it. I am graying at the temples (and elsewhere), a phenomenon that I describe as “badger-head”, but which actually looks kind of like this:

...or so I hope.

Anyway, by just about any definition of the word, I am officially an adult. Not even a “young adult” anymore, having moved out of my twenties and into what are supposedly my “prime earning years.” (Still waiting for that to start. You’d think I would have that whole what-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up thing sorted out by now.) This realization still kind of freaks me out. To some extent, that is the reason I started this blog – to reflect on the pleasures and strangeness of adulthood as I experience and embrace it.

Here are three things that suck about being an adult, in no particular order:

You look like a dumbass if you wear a baseball cap backwards all the time. This is something I have always done, and you can get away with it up to a certain point, but eventually it just makes you look like a jerk. As much as I like to wear my baseball cap backwards, I really don’t want to be “Backwards Baseball Cap Guy.” I might as well get a mini-monster truck, barbwire arm band tattoos, sport a goatee, chew tobacco, and pick up a couple of DUIs. That’s what Backwards Baseball Cap Guy would do. That, and get into fistfights at Hooters.

You still have to go to work when you’re sick. And now that they changed the formula for DayQuil, (damn you, tweakers!) you really have to just suffer through it. I think that this may be the single worst thing about being a grownup – the world does not stop, or even slow down for you when you’ve got a head cold. You just have to be miserable and suffer through it.

You have to buy tires. Just when you think you might be able to squeeze out a little wiggle room in this month’s budget, you have to drop over $500 on tires. Paying for car maintenance stinks. You don’t even get anything tangible for your money, just the same old car on the road.

“Blah.” said Toad. (Alas for you if you don’t get that reference)

Three random things that rule about being an adult:

Naps are as rare and as glorious as a trip to Disneyland was when you were a kid. Pure heaven.

You really do get to eat cookies, or Western Bacon Cheeseburgers, or whatever for breakfast.

Hearing a loud and happy cry of “DADDY!” and the sound of little feet tearing across the carpet towards the front door before you’ve even got your key out of the lock. Nothing in the world beats getting tackled by your three-year-old after a long day at work. That sounds so cliche, but is absolutely true.

I invite anybody reading this to come up with your own additional lists of three in the comments.

The Secret of Blog (with apologies to Mrs. Brisby)

I have finally figured out the reason for this whole blogging phenomenon- it is the perfect thing to do when you know you should be doing something else.

Normally, like many people, when I have a paper due or have to get my taxes finished or call my grandparents or rescue a super-intelligent colony of rodents from diesel-powered farm equipment or whatever, I look for something “productive” that I can do instead. I typically start sorting things on my bookshelves (I do love to sort things) or organizing my garage. If I am really desperate, I might clean the kitchen.

This type of activity seems somehow morally superior to classic procrastination activities like watching Night Court reruns, checking Craigslist for left-handed guitars I can’t afford (or play), or researching backup second basemen for the Chicago White Sox.

The great thing about blogging is that it feels like you are doing something (at least marginally) useful, but requires no more effort than playing Knights of the Old Republic II on your X-Box.

I suspect that when I no longer have papers I should be grading (Tuesday afternoon at 2:00PM is the deadline), my blogging output will diminish considerably. Unless I have something else to do.

 

Thank goodness that they didn’t have a T-1 connection in the rosebush along with the Christmas lights.