Super Powers

One of my favorite superheroes has powers that do not include leaping tall buildings, propelling a canoe quickly and precisely through rapids that would terrify the average mortal, or launching heavy objects further than the average mortal.  Her powers in the cerebral realm, include the ability to perform mental tasks exceeding the average mortal. 
She demonstrated those powers this past Saturday at a Science Olympiad event held at Booth Middle School.  Ordinary sixth grade mortals were at home watching Phenius and Ferb like me.  She loves that academic stuff.  She in fact recently was overheard saying, "I wonder what it's like to not make all A's." 
That's quite a different attitude from her oldest brother Benn.  In middle school his attitude was that any grade higher than an 89.5 demonstrated waisted effort.  Brother Davis followed Benn to middle school and elevated that attitude to an art form.  In his academic philosophy any grade that rounded up to more than a C was waisted effort.  I think I caught him once putting forth extra effort to pull down and average that somehow edged up into the B range.
Speaking of my other two superheroes, Davis recently demonstrated his vulnerability by having to deal with an anatomical malady.  He called and said he has a "Pilo-something Cyst."  "Pile of what cyst," I asked?  He said that was close and I should google or you tube it, but not too close to meal time.  Turns out it was a Pilonidal Cyst and I'll spare you details as they are just as gross as my initial mispronunciation might bring to mind if your imagination is as twisted as mine.  He did however heroically endure lancing the cyst without anesthesia while lying on a table in the track training room, a table whose edges under his hands turned to pil-o-sawdust on the floor.
I should get back to the cerebral hero however.  She had a really good day at Science Olympiad.  It was a lot like a track meet where there are no big sweaty guys growling as they heave heavy objects.  It was a lot like a canoe race where there is no danger of cracking your boat or face on a rock or getting caught in a hydraulic.  Okay, no, it was nothing like either of those except in that it was intense competition but of a vastly different kind performed by a mostly different kind of kid. 
Addie, in fact, is very like her brothers in her competitiveness.  She is not prone to scream intensely and gutturally during Science Olympiad competition like Davis has done at times throwing shot put.  She does approach the academic intensity with which Benn studies currents and flows and surges and pole hieghts and placement and stroke placement and rock locations, but she doesn't end up wet. 
Like the boys, she does love to win.  And she did.  She came home with three ribbons.  I won't claim of course that she was the only kid to do very well that morning, but that doesn't matter.  I saw the movie and know that there is more than one Green Lantern in the universe.  That makes him no less a superhero and applies to her as well.  He had a cool ring, which is not bad.  I'll bet he didn't have three ribbons.      

A Taste of Champaign

We visited the storage facility this weekend to check on the spare emergency child.  Everything was fine.  I understand why the University of Illinois is such a good storage facility.  It's too cold for anything to spoil.  When we descended below the clouds on arrival looking out the window gave the appearance of landing in my freezer, except that there's no room for a runway in my freezer.  I struggle to find room for a new carton of ice cream in my freezer.  That is unless I throw away one of the old partially eaten cartons of ice cream with freezer burn.  That would be a breach of family tradition, so I just continue to struggle.
Oh, back to landing in the freezer, the difference was that when we landed we found out that our freezer is actually warmer than it was that day in Illinois.  The rental car started.  Midwesterners clearly know more about winterizing a car than I do.  Had it been my car we might have just waited till Spring. 
We dropped our bags at the hotel and picked up Davis just outside the storage unit on the way to find something to eat.  Davis had eaten but the rest of us were hungry.  Just between us, I am the only member of our immediate family who is even remotely pleasant when hungry.  I think the appropriate term for angry about being hungry is hangry.
When we parked at the restaurant we took the time to hug quickly and briefly before going inside(remember the temperature).  Davis gave Marsha and Addie "pick up" hugs.  It's been a while since little boy Davis was able to get a pick up hug so I stepped up.  I wasn't able to bounce him or swing him like a few years ago and frankly my back might need some time before I step up again.  Once inside we ate.  We talked.  We made sure Davis wasn't getting dusty or mildewed in storage.  We checked Davis over for freezer burn, and we made plans for what all we'd do over the next two days before putting him back in storage for a few more weeks.
Guess what happened shortly after Davis finished throwing in the track meet.  Even though I'm a technology guy, this kind of stuff still amazes me.  We were sitting in the bleachers in Illinois and Benn called from Australia.  While I talked to him on my phone we all started walking to a nearby stairwell and Marsha downloaded Skype to her i-phone.  Once in the stairwell the whole family Skyped from opposite sides of the planet and a difference of roughly 70 degrees in temperature.  I was afraid it wouldn't work at first, not because of the technology.  I work with that stuff all the time and know that it's just magic.  What I was afraid wouldn't work was fitting a majestic Fraker head into that itty bitty i-phone screen.  Yes the kids are headsize gifted too.  When the four of us stand together we look like Mt. Frakemore.  On the plus side, Marsha never lacks for shade when she's with one of us.  We just stood a little further from the phone and it all worked out.
We're home now and back in the routine.  We miss Davis already and even with the magic of Skype we never really stopped missing Benn.  It was great to spend time with Davis and have an awesome trans-global family talk except for those darn noisy birds in the tree Benn was under.  We didn't have any problem with birds in the freezer.  By the way Benn posted a new blog too at paddlinglife.net with some great pictures from Bailey.

Man Card

Leaving the Gym tonight I heard a man and woman talking about plans.  I think he was asking her out.  She asked if there was some sports event going on.  I don't know why she asked but he didn't answer.  She pressed it and he had to answer that he thought there was a football game.  I hated to call him out while he was trying to get a date, but I said, "Yeah it's the BCS National Championship Game."  He tried to rally by saying, "Oh yeah.  I know that.  There's an SEC team in that?"  I said, "Dude, give me the card."  He said, "What?"  "Stop pretending and hand over your man card now.  You can have this back when you can either tell me the score and some highlights, or man up and admit that you really don't care."
I say all that knowing that Benn is in Australia with probably no idea that the game is even happening.  You tell me though.  You think you want to pull the man card from the guy in the picture below?  Not me.  We don't watch football games together, but he'll never pretend.  Davis and I do football.  We're texting about this game as I type and watch.  Since he was just a little guy Benn has earned his man card in lots of other ways.  He was as early as 5 years old there with me in one, "place we don't tell Mom about."  He's been there with me in a few of those since then.
Saturday was a pretty eventful day.  I went to throwing practice.  I spent the practice trying to learn a skill that I'm not very good at.  Mike, the coach, commented that Tom's going to be sore tomorrow.  I said he clearly doesn't understand yet what it means to be 53.  Tom's sore everyday.  Then I went to Addie's basketball game.  Addie is a pretty good player.  It's not her best thing.  Athletically her best thing ii swimming, but she likes basketball and is on a pretty good team.  They were undefeated, but the team they played Saturday had a Heisman Trophy candidate who more or less beat us single handedly.  After the game we went for pizza with Kate's mom and Dave.  Remember Kate is in France.  Brigette, yes she has her own name, and Marsha and I commizerated because it had been so long since we had heard from our globe-trotting kids.  Dave said that after going five days without hearing from Kate, Brigette is ready to call the State Department.  I understand.  Sometimes it's just not enough to track bank account withdrawels.  Now and then you want to hear breathing and know that it's coming from your kid.
Low and behold when we got home, Benn and Bailey Skyped us.  Benn has been training with an international variety of friends, and Italian, a Frenchman, a Canadian and our buddy Jim from the US.  Jim was also with me once in one of those places we don't tell Mom about.  He's not just a good slalom racer and training partner for Benn.  He's a one time member of the Tom Fraker rescue team and another guy who's man card never in jeopardy.
At any rate training seems to be going well.  Bailey seems to be having a good time.  Marsha and Addie and I had a great time talking to Benn and Bailey and they took a day off to go to the beach with two car loads of slalom people. 
I also got an email from Benn today.  Guess what.  He's reading this blog.  I'm reading his too.   He's posting probably a couple of times a month with pictures by Bailey on a blog at paddlinglife.net.  Bailey too is struggling with limited internet access to post a photo blog on her site baileygarrot.com.  That should give you something to check into if you're man enough to admit that you're not into this game. 

 

A Tale of Two Travelers

I work for an airline.  That means my family can fly when seats are available.  I have one son who spent his high school years traveling the country to compete in track meets, and now attends college a short plane ride from home.  I have another son who for most of a decade has traveled the world to compete in slalom canoe.  For me, "will he win" is the second most stressful question of any trip.  The first is, "will he get on the flight."  We fly stand-by.  If the plane is full we stand and say by.  Even though both sons have been stranded, spent the night in airports, missed flights, stayed extra days on trips and just aborted trips altogether, Benn and Davis manage the process, with which they are both so experienced, in very different ways. I'll demonstrate with stories of their most recent flying experiences.

Davis called me on Dec 20th and said, "How does the last flight of the day look tomorrow?"  He asked about one, not flights, not days, just that one.  It looked fine.  Naturally it would look fine for Davis.  As is his habit he left at what I would call the last possible minute for the airport.  He called me from his truck to tell me it wouldn't start.  At first it was turning over but now just clicking.  I told him his battery was dead.  He decided to call a friend with jumper cables to get him started.   He decided Future Davis could worry about the battery after Christmas.  When the truck cranked he first noticed that the dome light came on, left on from the previous night.  He second noticed that the gas tank was empty, also left so from last night.  Of course he already knew then that he would leave at the last possible minute and have to fill it anyway, but no big deal.  He's Davis.  Now after waiting and jumping his truck well beyond the last possible minute, he still had to get gas.  His friend followed him to be sure it cranked again. 
A few minutes later Davis called again and said he was on the way.  "How's the flight look?  I think I can make it if I hurry."  I said, "The flight looks soon, but there are still seats.  I'm going to hang up so you can focus on not getting pulled over.  That kind of ticket won't help you get on the flight."  He said, "Wait!  I forgot my confirmation number."  I knew that already.  He is Davis and that's what he does.  I had it in my hand, and texted it to him, because I am Tom and that's what I do.  He texted a few minutes later and said, "I got my ticket."  I replied that I hoped he meant a seat.  He had arrived at the very small Bloomington, IL airport and charmed the ticket agent into letting him check a bag, just a tiny bit late, smiled at her again while she, the same one, worked the departure gate, and waved at her as she threw his bag through the cargo door of the aircraft.  I told you its a small airport, but I do think a couple of other people work there too.  Davis made it home on a smile and a prayer due in no part to his own diligence.  The smile was his.  The prayer was mine.

I didn't set out to be that guy who has the confirmation number ready, who worries his kids onto flights.  It's not Davis's fault I'm that way.  I suppose its mine but I never once said as a kid, "I want to be that guy."  I wanted to be a superhero.  In the third grade I wanted to be super strong and to be super fast and to be able to fly.  I turned out to be that guy who sits at home and frets about his kids getting on the flight.

So by contrast Benn asked in November, "How do flights from Atlanta to Sydney look near New Years Eve or New Years day?  He figured those would be easy travel days.  Being that guy I checked them weekly and then daily till Dec 30th.  Suddenly there were large numbers of other stand-by travelers also on the flights and most with higher priority than his.  And his girlfriend Bailey was trying to go with him with a lower priority than his.  None of that made me feel better and it stressed Benn completely.  He could still get on but barely and he was worried about it.  He had been beaten into diligence by years of disappointments, set-backs and various stressful travel occurrences.  Davis wouldn't recognize a beating if it... well beat him. 
At any rate Benn suggested I look at earlier flights that day.  Some of me was wearing off on him.  Sure enough those large numbers of stand-bys grew geometrically on the earlier flights and would roll to his.  He would not get on.  He decided to go for the first flight of the day, good training from Dad.  Bailey came over and we got up to leave for the airport at 5AM.  I prepared him for the worst and even gave him a pre-scouted list of alternative routes if he didn't get on.  He appreciated it, but he was already in that stressful frame of mind.  We made it to the airport early.  He had his confirmation number, and Bailey's.  By the time I got back home I logged onto the system and saw that Benn had a seat but Bailey looked to be number 14 waiting for 5 seats.  Remember diligence though.  That's why you go for the first flight of the day.  People "no show."  Both Benn and Bailey eventually got seat assignments and experience finally told Benn he could relax.
If experience knows what's good for it, it won't tell him that again.  When he ran his boarding pass through the scanner it failed.  He somehow disappeared from the list.  Software bug?  Gate agent error?  Or just another beating?  In the last minute frenzy of boarding, last minute passengers running to the gate to find boarding complete and doors closing, nobody fixed it.  Benn didn't get on. 
He spent a few brief minutes being devastated and telling Bailey via cell phone that he'd get there.  Then the mental and physical training of an elite athlete paid off.  He focused.  The next flight was about to start boarding on concourse A.  Benn was on concourse E.  Have you been to the Atlanta airport.  A and E are in different counties, the National Weather Service issues different weather forecasts for them, they are...  What I'm trying to say is it was really far.  Benn ran.  I was still that guy and still checking.  I texted him his seat assignment for the next flight before he even got to the gate.  Yes.  He made it and got a seat and is in Australia now for warm weather winter training. 

Davis is back at school.  The return for Davis was less eventful.  That's because I was there to organize and drive.  Neither Benn or Davis has to fly again for a while.  I can relax.  I don't worry about them while they are away.  They are big boys and make good decisions.  I just worry about them while they travel.  Will they get on the flight?  If I had my way back in the third grade I would now be able to pick them up with my super strength and fly them where they need to be and do so very fast.  Oh well.   Instead I'll just wait for Benn's next beating and see what I can do to help.

Where's Davis

I had a significant personal achievement last night.  At the gym I did essentially the same workout as Davis.  I suppose I should define “essentially”.  What I mean by that is that I lifted the same weight that he lifted and for the same number of repetitions.  I’m kind of proud of that.  It doesn’t even matter to me that me that I was doing squats and he was doing bench.  At my age you have to take pride where you can get it.  Addie just spanked me mercilessly in a game of Wii Tennis and I need this one right now, okay?

Okay if you don’t get the difference, squat is lifting with your legs and bench is with your arms and chest.  So Davis…  I suppose some readers might not know who Davis is.  Davis is our spare emergency child.  We keep him stored in another state in case something happens and we need a replacement for one of the main kids.  Somebody recently said that Davis is handsome like me, implying that we look alike, and I suppose implying a bit more than that.  Davis gave that a big thumbs down.  Everything about Davis is big, including his thumbs.

When that “handsome like me” kind of thing happens, Davis usually claims to be adopted.  He may actually have something there.  I suppose it’s possible for some people to perceive that Davis looks like me.  I, on the other hand, actually see a pretty strong resemblance between Davis and a famous TV personality.  I’ve attached a couple of pictures as evidence.  See if you can tell which one is the Jack Links Beef Jerky Spokes…. What is the right term here?  Spokesquatch?  Maybe it would be easier if I said see if you can guess which one is Davis.

I used to spend a lot more time with Davis before we sent him to storage in Illinois.  In fact it is from spending time with Davis that I picked up my current hobby.  I think I mentioned that I am learning to throw the hammer.  Addie swims and wants me to do that with her, but picture me in a Speedo.  Now wipe that image forever from your mind, and never let me see that look in your eyes.  There are things a man in his 50's shouldn't wear.  I don't have to wear those things to throw hammer. 

I can’t say that men in their 50’s are exactly flocking to The Hammer Throw in spite of the more favorable wardrobe options.  I do have some company.  By some standards it’s catching on.  Here, in fact, are some things less common than men in their 50’s who throw the hammer; men who have given birth, men who understand women and Christmas presents I have given Marsha that were just the right thing.  Statistically speaking I suppose I am somewhat rare, say one in…How many 50-something men are there in Georgia?

I like throwing the hammer even though it’s so unusual.  I must admit that I rarely tell people I throw, but only for fear of having to demonstrate in public.  The Hammer throw keeps me in some semblance of shape, allows me to learn a new skill, and gives me a way to stay connected to the spare emergency child while he’s away in storage. 

Davis and I once threw in the same meet, in fact, sort of in the same flight.  We were throwing the weight, which is the indoor version of the hammer, shorter and heavier so it doesn’t go as far.  We were only sort of in the same flight because we weren’t exactly throwing the same weight.  His was the version for college age and open competitors.  I was throwing the version for real men with life experience and maturity beyond 50 years.  Translated that means his was 35 pounds and mine was 25 pounds.  I was ahead of him briefly, just before he took his first throw.

It doesn’t bother me that Davis threw further than me that one time.  I’m bigger than that.  I don’t have a problem with llll….loooo…finishing second to my kids whether it’s Wii Tennis or throwing heavy stuff.  Or actually I should say that I wouldn’t mind if I ever did finish second to one of them.  After all, we really aren’t competing against each other.  I compete in a different age group when it’s convenient to me.  Sometimes I compete in a different species group, reference the pictures.

another story

Before I get to another story, as previously promised, I have to give a quick thank you.  After reading my previous post, a great friend quickly dropped off a health enhancing gift for me.  It's cranberry apple granola.  Yes, fiber.  Some genius in Ely, MN found my life calling before I did.  It's not so much the product as the brilliant name they gave it that excites me.  Well, actually I had the product for breakfast this morning which did lead to a different kind of excitement.  But the name!  Think of the name you would give cranberry apple granola.  That's it!  They named it Crapola!  How cool is that?  It's brilliant.  I'd love to be a distributor of Crapola.  On second thought, most of the people I work with would say I am already.

So anyway back to my safety.  Lots of people have asked me how Benn got to be a good Whitewater Slalom paddler.  I'd love to take credit but too many people know otherwise.  I made the mistake of getting in a boat and trying it myself.  Even worse, I did it in public. 

Instead of just driving him to practice and races when he was too young to do so himself, I decided to get a boat and prove my prowess.  I did stay in very good shape.  My arms and shoulders got stronger.  I learned to hold my breath a long time, but only those of us who were upside down a lot needed that skill.  I became tolerant of being cold and wet.  I learned all the jargon.  In fact only a few things about the sport really escaped me.  Those few things I never quite mastered included waves, holes, drops, fast moving currents, gates and precision paddling.  Other than that I pretty much had it dialed in.  Oh yeah, and speed, I never quite mastered speed, but really that was only because those other things kept getting in the way. 

I was more of an endurance guy.  Endurance is key in paddling.  Once while returning from a race in Colorado, I drove ten straight hours with only one break for gas and bio-requirements.   Benn slept.  We weren't talking much because he had just gotten a ticket driving in Oklahoma. 

I did have some career highlights though other than endurance driving.  I was nearly a human highlight film.  I only missed it by two words.  I was more of a human depth gauge.  Refer back to aforementioned breath holding.  Highlights: 1) I once got pinned, flipped, washed under a rock and fortunately out the other side.  2) I missed a move so badly that I ended up cartwheeling end over end in a hydraulic between gates 8 and 10.  You won't see that in the Olympics.  3)  I was once pinned so long between two rocks that I delayed the race.  It was US Nationals.  It was on local TV.  I never saw the video, but I picture myself like the Nascar wreck that everybody tunes in for.

Constantly delivering that level of entertainment value takes a toll on an athlete.  Even Brett Favre may really have to stop one day.  That's not why I retired though.  Benn got older and moved out.  He stopped getting so many tickets and drives for himself, but that's still not why I retired.  For a while after he moved out I continued to answer the call on occasion.  He called me once to run a creek after work that he and Jim knew was high from the rain.  They spent so long rescuing me from a big keeper hydraulic I was stuck in that we finished the second half of the creek in the dark.  I didn't get as many calls after that, but that's still not why I retired.

Remember from above my great friend?  She has a daughter named Kate.  I met Kate when she was probably 14.  Kate had very little paddling experience but wanted to learn.  Who could better teach her what not to do?  I started training with Kate.  She had some actually good coaches as well, but I was her partner.  We practiced, trained and even traveled to some races together.  It was during that time that I did something Benn never did.  I won the illusive Alabama Cup; a series or three citizen races.  Maybe not as spectacular as going to the Olympics or cartwheeling in mid-race, but a good thing nevertheless.  I don't think Benn ever actually competed in all three races the same year which is a requirement to win the cup but that's beside the point.  He never won the cup.  I did.

Kate won the cup.  Only two or maybe three years after she started paddling, and in fact the year after I won the cup, the greatest victory of my slalom career, Kate beat me like a rented mule.  Then she slept while I drove all the way home.  That's why I retired.  I was no longer a champion.  I was again an endurance driver.  Kate is in college now, studying in France this year, and still loves me dearly, or so I will remind her when she comes home.  Do you suppose Kate's mom after all these years is finally trying to give me back the crapola that Kate beat out of me? 

whether you wanted it or not

In case you don't remember, which will encompass the vast majority of people, none of whom will actually come to this site, I blogged my way to China and back when Benn went to the Olympics in 2008.  All of the people who were devoted followers of that blog have asked me occasionally since I stopped, if I was ever going to blog again.  Well the answer for both of you is finally, whether you wanted it or not, yes.

So why is the title unrelated to the Olympics?  Well I am a regular person and there's no guarantee at this point that I'll be in London.  London 2012 is a long road from here in many ways.  Don't worry.  There is plenty to talk about that is related to the Olympics; especially opportunities for me to spend money to give at least one family member a chance to get there.  I'll talk about that stuff.  I won't promise to recycle old jokes like "five ring fever" and "MOO."  But surely I can keep two people on the hook without cheesy joke recycling. 

In the mean time, can you stand it if I talk about some regular stuff?  Like what happened today?  I felt pretty crummy all weekend.  You see I have taken up throwing the Hammer and Weight like my other son, Davis does.  It's a violently strenuous activity that I have no business doing, so of course I'm doing it, duh.   And of course I have developed a problem with my neck and shoulders.  In my defense it's safer than when I paddled Whitewater Slalom with Benn, but that's another story. 

This story finds me grumpy, irritable, rude and even mean at work.  Few people noticed the difference, but I decided to call the Chiropractor.  On the way to the Chiropractor I noticed I also felt feverish and related it to the lower left side abdominal pain I had experienced for two days.  I made it in to see two Doctors in one day for separate maladies.  They both said the same thing.  They said it with a straight face, which hurt even worse.  I should perhaps lower my expectations of forever being able to jump in and do whatever activities my kids choose to do.  I forgave them since they really don't know me very well.

The Chiropractor looked at ex rays and seemed to be wondering how that neck held up a head the size of mine.  He actually asked if I had ever had a serious neck injury. I said, "Dude, what do you expect?  It's been holding up this majestic sized head for 53 years."   He treated me and wants me to come back in a couple of days.  Since my wife and son think he's a bone and joint magician I'll go again.  I did promise to tone down the lifting and throwing violence for this week.  We'll see how that goes.

The other doctor lost me when she started talking about something to do with diving and tickling.  I have never combined those activities, so I waited patiently for the antibiotic prescription I knew would come soon and kill my fever.  Then she mentioned my Colonoscopy from earlier this year.  Nothing gets a man's attention like talking about Colonoscopy.  Well one thing does but not the same way.  Anyway I started paying attention.  After picking up my two, yes two antibiotics, I googled Diverticulitis.  Truthfully, I googled Diver and google knew how to spell the rest.  Essentially it sounds like I need more fiber in my diet and I'll be fine. 

That's okay for me.  I like Raisin Bran, but I feel for those around me.  Fiber turns me into a serious crop duster.  Not a familiar term for you?  Have you ever been walking through Walmart and suddenly wondered if a kid nearby didn't quite make it the 400 yards to the one restroom in eight acres of merchandise?  Chances are it wasn't a kid and you were crop dusted.  Seriously, do I need to explain that further?  Ask a kid what I mean.  And yes Walmart is probably the most common place for crop dusting of this sort.

So now it should be easier for you picture me involved in all the activities I expect to blog about over the next few months.  I suppose I could have started with something a little more flattering for me, but that's way harder to come up with, and what the heck.  As you read this blog, I'll be the stiff necked crop duster in each story.