Graduation

Its June and everyone talks about graduation in June, so why should I be any different? Yesterday I talked about matriculation, so it only makes sense that I bring up the subject of graduation today. I'll start with junior high. 

As a kid, I was a decent student. I got a lot of A's and B's and an occasional C. Towards the end of my eighth grade year, my dad wanted to motivate me to get straight A's. He knew I really wanted a mountain bike, so he used that as a motivation tool. If I could get straight A's at the end of eighth grade, he would buy me the bike I wanted as a graduation gift. 

I worked hard and pulled off all A's...almost. I was taking the advanced math class that year, so it was a little harder than the regular class. When report cards came around, I looked at the big fat B with disgust. I showed it to my dad who came up with a compromise. He told me that he would pay for half the bike, but I'd have to pay for the other. The bike I wanted cost about $500, so that meant that the one B in math cost me $250, but I worked hard for about six weeks and earned the money and bought the bike before we left for our annual camping trip to Lake Almanor. 

A few years later when my older brother graduated from high school, my parents bought him a ring. As my turn to graduate came along, my mom asked me if I wanted a ring as well. I told her that I didn't see a whole lot of usefulness in a ring and that I'd prefer something more useful. My parents came through on that one. As I unwrapped my graduation gift I found something far better than a ring. I found wrenches. Lots of wrenches. A whole set of useful socket wrenches. I felt so sorry for my brother at that moment. I could just imagine him trying to tighten a bolt with that lousy ring. 

Then came college. Shortly after I got married in the middle of my senior year, my beloved mountain bike got stolen. Sure I'd had it for nearly ten years by that point, but it was still as awesome as it had been on day one. My wife and I actually graduated on the same day, so we had a dual party that afternoon, just before my little sister rushed off to her senior prom. The gift this time was wrapped under a blanket in the living room of my parents house. 

When I pulled the blanket off, there was a new bike, with even more modern bells and whistles than the previous one. That one lasted another ten years until I inadvertently left the garage door open one night and someone else mistakenly thought that my bike was theirs. 

Even though both mountain bikes are now gone, I still enjoy riding my bike. Last summer I bought a new one and now I ride it all the time. As for the wrenches. They're still in my garage and get used every time I find a bolt that needs tightening or loosening. One of these days I'll have to ask my brothers what ever happened to their rings. 

Matriculation

Matriculation is not a word you hear everyday, unless, of course, you grew up with my dad. My dad is notorious for his use of words like matriculate and ubiquitous. As a matter of fact, on more than one occasion I caught him reading the dictionary just to learn new words to confuse us with. Needless to say, we had opportunities to celebrate things during our growing up years that other kids may not have celebrated simply because our dad knew that there was a word for such an event. Matriculation was one of those events that occurred every summer in our home. 

To matriculate, for those of you who haven't yet clicked over to Dictionary.com, typically refers to enrolling in college or a specific course of study, but it can also mean to reach an academic standard. In the setting of the American school system, that standard is the completion of a grade level. Dad was always careful to distinguish between graduation and matriculation. Graduation was something that occurred at the end of junior high or high school. All other grades culminated in a matriculation. 

Fortunately, there were lots of opportunities to matriculate during our educational careers, so we had plenty of chances to capitalize on those events. The whole matriculation tradition began the summer after I finished second grade. Somehow I had managed to figure out all the borrowing and carrying and was being passed on to third grade. My younger brother was moving up to second and my older brother was moving on to fourth grade. It was at the start of this summer that Dad thought it would be a good idea to get us our first matriculation gift. 

I remember that night quite vividly. The gift was in a long narrow box and we were clueless. When we opened it, we found a blue canvas bag with more blue canvas inside. Still clueless. "It's a tent," Dad said. "Let's set it up." So we did. I can't remember exactly how we did it because this was an old-fashioned Boy Scout-type tent that had to be staked to the ground in order to be set up. Since we were on the green shag carpet next to the yellow floral couch in the living room, I'm not sure how we pulled it off, but we did.

I remember climbing inside that tiny blue tent that night with my brothers and playing in it right there in the living room, completely clueless about the fact that in a matter of weeks the three of us would be sleeping inside it up in the mountains as the adults sat around a camp fire telling stories about the last time a bear came into camp. 

That summer was the first time my family went on vacation to Lake Almanor in Northern California. It's been about thirty years since that matriculation gift and camping trip and the tradition continues today, only now I'm the dad and my kids are in the tent. 

Soft Spot

Everyone has a soft spot. We all have something that we can't resist. For me, it's hamburgers, especially from In-N-Out. I consider myself quite lucky actually. My weakness only costs a couple of bucks so I can afford to give in every once in a while. For others their weakness might be chocolate or even seeking thrills. When a soft spot involves years of commitment following each indulgence, you have to be careful.

I suppose a lot of moms have a soft spot for thier kids, so my wife is really quite normal in that area, but let's take a look at this mathematically and see where it leads. Start with a soft spot for her kids, multiply that by five, then add pets and what do you get? Now do you see where this is going?

Last October we ended up with two new cats and fish all in the same day. For the past eight months the cats and the fish have coexisted somewhat peacefully. Sure the cats like to drink the water from the fish bowl and taunt the little guy from time to time, but there has yet to be any real harm. This friendly banter, however, makes my wife nervous. Recently Mommy started complaining that the fish bowl was big and didn't really have a place where it belonged so she came up with a plan. After I had committed myself to blowing up the inflatable swimming pool and watching the younger kids in it, Mommy said, "I'm taking Zach and Maddie to the store to get a new fish bowl."

That sounded innocent enough, except for the fact that she was going to a pet store and I would be powerless to stop her. "Oh no," I thought to myself. "This will not end well." As I sat on the couch in the garage watching the kids swimming in the driveway like the good Southern California redneck that I am, I thought of something that I needed to ask my son, so I called my wife's phone and asked to speak to him.

Guess what Little Miss Soft Spot said to me as soon as she answered? "Can we get an aquarium and a bunch of fish? They're on sale."

"Ahhhhhhhh!" my inner voice silently screamed as the outer voice simply said, "No."

Fortunately she kinda listened. Instead of buying a huge aquarium she decided to scale back, but still insisted that Zach's Beta fish, Arrow, needed a companion. Betas have to be alone since they tend to fight with each other, but fortunately, someone in the land of pet inventions came up with a little fish bowl that is divided into two sections so you can have two Betas. What good is a two part fish bowl with only one fish?

For the most part disaster was averted, but not entirely. Now we have two dogs, two cats, two fish, and a hamster. Since the first fish was already named Arrow, Maddie named her new fish Bow. Now we have a Bow and Arrow sitting on our mantle. Who else can make that claim?

Summer Bucket List

Like many terms in the English language, bucket list has lost much of its original meaning. The term first came about as a reference to all the things one would like to do before kicking the bucket. Simply put, once your bucket list is done, you're ready to die. 

Given this, you can see why I was a bit disturbed when my daughter posted her summer bucket list on the refrigerator a few weeks ago. Summer "to do" list would be fine, but "bucket" list, I'm not so sure I like the sound of that. Despite the misnomer, she at least set some goals and has targets to aim for, so I can't complain about that. Being the great dad that I am, I helped her reach four out of five of her said objectives before Memorial Day. Let's take a look at her plans.

1. Ride Horses. Done. We signed her up for weekly horseback riding lessons. As a matter of fact she has already been on a trail ride and is preparing for her first riding competition next weekend. Remember the story about the helmets at dinner?

2. Go swimming. Two weekends in a row we went to Grandma and Grandpa's house and the kids spent about four hours straight in the pool. I'd call that one done too.

3. Visit my cousins. This one is a gray area. We saw several cousins at Grandma and Grandpa's house, but I found out after the fact that these were the wrong cousins and the wrong house. What she really wanted to do was visit my brother and his kids five hundred miles away. Technically she has visited cousins, so we could cross it off, but I think she would be a little upset about that. We've scheduled a trip for later in the summer. 

4. Go to "Bask and Robbins." I assume this means that she wants ice cream, which we've given her. She knows we don't like to pay for overpriced ice cream, but she does have a gift certificate, so we should be able to accommodate her before the summer ends. 

5. Go camping. This one is a done deal. A few weeks ago my parent's church had an overnight campout at the church. We showed up with our trailer, stayed the night, and went home. I think we can count that, but we'll do better next month. We have a few trips planned for later, so she'll be able to cross that one off as well. 

As for my own list, I plan to write everyday. Actually, I'm aiming for five times a week on this blog and completing a book. It's an ambitious goal, but so far I've kept up with the blog and have the first 3,000 words done on a book. We'll see if I can get it all done before school starts. 

Gorgeous

Advertisers will stop at nothing to get you to buy their products. I've seen ads ranging from funny to scandalous to downright wrong in an attempt to get me to run out to the nearest store and buy something I don't need. The other day I saw one that caught my attention, though it still failed to entice me. 

Apparently McDonalds has some new tortilla wrapped chicken and veggie thing that is designed to make you think you are eating something healthy at a fast food restaurant. What caught my attention was the way they described it. When I heard the phrase "gorgeous fresh vegetables" it got me thinking. Here I am a thirty something year old father of five and all this time I thought the word gorgeous was something that was primarily used to describe a woman. I'd be wiling to stretch it to finely restored classic car as well or even a bouquet of flowers, but veggies? 

Can vegetables be described using the same word I used to describe my wife on our wedding day? That seems a little off balance to me. If veggies are gorgeous, what's to stop me from saying to my wife, "Honey, you look like broccoli today" or "You're a slice of cucumber on a bed of lettuce"? I just don't think she'd melt in my arms upon hearing those words. How can I, in good conscious, describe my wife, whom I love, using the same word that is used to describe vegetable, which I tolerate? Veggies can have something like succulent, but not gorgeous. 

If we have to share words, I'd be okay with sharing gorgeous with a few select cars. Most men by nature don't crave veggies and spend hours enjoying them. Many men, however, appreciate a fine automobile, so to use the same word to describe a car and a wife seems more appropriate than sharing such a beautiful word with the vegetable world. 

I know for me that I'd much rather be described as a Corvette than a cabbage and I'm sure my wife would agree. 

This Post is Brought to You By...

Minor league baseball is known for adding a little creativity to the game. They don't change the rules at all, but the teams tend to do a lot to get the fans more interested in coming back to the ballpark night after night. Since they offer so many promotional deals, people tend to come to the games without knowing much, if anything, about the team or the players, but they still have a great time just watching the game and all the antics that take place between innings. 

Last night our family went to one of these games. The kids had earned several gift cards to In-N-Out so we stopped there for some real food on the way. Since I had six free tickets to the game, the whole evening was quite inexpensive. Keep in mind that these teams have to make money somehow and they didn't make much off us last night. That's where the classic advertising dollar becomes so powerful. 

It was the bottom of the third or fourth inning and the Lake Elsinore Storm were up to bat. Some guy named Number 12 was up and hit a hard shot to shallow right field for a base hit. After him a guy named Number 14 came up. He got a base hit as well. Both of those guys had practiced playing baseball for years to be able to get those hits. They had invested hours and hours of their lives perfecting a game they loved. The least you can do is to say their names over the PA system and give them credit for all of that hard work. Not in minor league baseball. After the second hit, the announcer said, "And those back-to-back singles are brought to you by Lake Elsinore Acupuncture and Chiropractic." 

Gee, I thought they were brought to me by Number 12 and Number 14. Some chiropractor who has probably never even hit a fastball or worn a baseball uniform just got credit for not one, but two base hits in a game he probably wasn't even watching. 

Such is the nature of the beast in the minors. You play as hard as you can and put up with all the hype in hopes that one day you will make it to the big leagues where you get your name on the back of your shirt (unless you're a Yankee) and a little recognition for what you do. Until then, its all about some chiropractor paying money so he can take credit for your success. 

I'm sure the kids will remember the night well. Not for the baseball, but for the bunny that danced after every run and the big green dog that hyped up the crowd as often as possible. 

Kid Talk

We have a strange way of naming things in the English language. Some of our terms make perfect sense while others can leave you scratching your head if you really think about the words. Take the term "lickity-split," for example. If you go lickity-split, do you really have to use your tongue? Or do you have to cut something in half? Neither, really. It just means to go quickly, but it doesn't make any sense if you stop and think about the words. 

So, if lickity-split means to go fast, how would you say to go slow? What's the natural opposite of lickity? If you lick ice cream, you have to do it fast before it melts, but you want to chew your steak carefully and slowly. Does that mean the opposite of lick is chew? If that's the case then "chewity-fix" is probably the opposite of "lickity-split." Not so. The really opposite of lickity-split is actually lollygag. Don't even get me started on that one. 

It's no wonder, then, that kids get confused by this crazy language from time to time. I could see the confusion on my daughter's face the other night at dinner. She has the world's best quizzical look when she is pondering something confusing, so you know you're about to get a doozy of a question when the look appears. The other night she raised the left side of her mouth, squinted her eye, wrinkled her nose and randomly asked, "Why don't parents who are brother and sister just call the other kids 'kid-in-law?'" 

It took me a second to digest the question, especially since there was no context for it in our conversation, but what she was really asking is "Why don't you call your brother-in-law's kids your kids-in-law?"  It was a really good question if you stop and think about it. The term kid-in-law is all-inclusive of nieces and nephews. Instead of me having to say that I have 17 nieces and nephews, I could simply say I have 17 kids-in-law. (This could come in really handy when you're typing and you spell niece wrong every time anyway.) 

With our family getting so large, its getting harder and harder to keep track of everyone anyway, and I'm all for finding ways to simplify family connections. So if any of my kids-in-law are reading this, keep in mind that someday when you glance through the online dictionary using your Google glasses and stumble across the word kid-in-law, you are the the reason a new phrase has entered the English language.