Rudeness and Respect

Just thinking about a few things.

I talked with one of my players the other evening, helping him with a bit of homework. We talked about various things, particularly about attitudes. He mentioned a particular person and what he said to him, saying "You know, Coach has worked hard to get where he's at. You should respect what he does for us and the help that he gives." I had a difficult time keeping a steady voice the remainder of our conversation. Needless to say, I'm proud to see how much this young man has grown in the five-plus years I've known him.

That conversation made me remember a time when I lacked a great amount of respect to people beyond my scope of concern. I was about ten years old and visiting a friend's house across town . We were in his room and his "most annoying" sister came in and bugged us. Me, actually. It wasn't that she was doing anything wrong or truly annoying. It was simply a boys/no girls thing and I (yes, me) did not want her in the room. I was blatanly rude to her. What strikes me most about this whole incident was that her brother, my playmate, jumped my ass fierce about being rude to her. He poignantly pointed out, "She's my sister; you need to be nice to her or you have to leave." I'm sure his words weren't quite that eloquent, but no cussing or harsh tones. Just a straight forward demand for mutual respect. I remember that lesson quite well and it serves me in good stead.

Kim, sorry for being an ass to you then. I know I'm just beyond that line of not unlikeable now, but I never really got to apologize.

Cheers to you and your big brother.

State of Denial

Wow. I think the picture says it all.



I actually got to listen to the second half of President Bush's State of the Union address. Quite interesting, I listened as much for the information (more on this...) and for the fact that this was his last one.



I really think Bill Day nailed it with this one. As much as I want to support our president (regardless of who it may be at the given moment), I think it's important that we understand their responsibility and the nature and reality of our current state.

Tiger's Roar

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a Tiger Woods fan.

I like him for more reasons than one. Let's see, he and I are both half-Thai (our moms!). He and I are both December babies. We both like golf. The similarities end there pretty much. Oh, he and I have dark hair. That's it.

Tiger just won his 62nd PGA tournament, tying him with Arnold Palmer on the all time list. Twenty more and he can surpass Sam Snead's 82 wins.

Is he that good? Damn right. Could he be better? Yes. And for that, it proves how good he is.

Of course, in the game, you drive it to the fairway, hit your approach onto the green and one- or two-putt for birdie or par. Tiger? Well, for not hitting into the fairway as often as he should, he still laps the competition. If you've never hit a golf ball from the rough, try it. Now, get your ball to stick the green. Under PGA conditions. With the entire hold stacked four deep with spectators. For a million dollar check. That's when reality hits. I'm still waiting for Tiger to repeat his Tiger Slam, holding all four trophys at one time.

Perhaps someone will mention, "Well, if Tiger is so good, then how come he doesn't talk more with the press?" I think that stars of any venue, whether it be sports, acting, singing, or any other notoriety, should be courteous to their fan base and supportive of the press that feeds that base. I also can only imagine how difficult it could be with the current state of the paparazzi and how any and everything is blown up to effect drama. While I would love to read more about Tiger, or even just watch an interview with him, I understand his take on the media's sometimes motives about creating drama.

Oh well. Keep up the good work Tiger.

Simplest of Things

Today, my 7-year-old and I had a bit of a father-son day. How nice it was.

It's not often I go into the city, so doing so can be a treat. On this particular occasion, it was a student holiday so my son and I had the day to make whatever we wanted to. Earlier in the week, I made an eye appointment and from there, the fates would draw us.

Dylan was especially attentive and inquisitive in the optometrist's office. Before Dr. Nguyen came into the room, he and I literally examined the various tools used to examine the eyes and ascertain the needed prescription. He would ask about a tools function, and I would do my best to describe it.

Our next stop was to feed our hedonistic and machismo-driven male selves, Best Buy. I love going there, and to have my son ask to go there is a guilty pleasure "Sure son. We can do that."
We didn't spend too much money, but picking up both copies of Star Wars: Clone Wars was especially sweet. Report cards came out this week; having an A average has it's rewards.

Following that digital high, we went to feed our stomachs. The Longhorn Cafe, a local joint, has a really nice atmosphere and great food. Not too pricey, but fair for the quality of eats. Check it out.

Stuffed with good eats and unable to take a nap, we ventured onwards. To sum it up, we did stop at another electronics store, bought some glow in the dark paint, and picked up a snack and drinks.

Why is this worth writing about? Most of the time, we do things as a family. Often, expecially this time of the year, I'm quite occupied (mentally and physically) with coaching duties and work. That's not fair for my family, especially my growing boys. A day like today really renews our bonds, but more so puts into perspective what my priorities are and what they should be.

How often do we become precoccupied with "important" things? How much does it cost to take a quick trip to the ice cream shop, the park, or even a leisurely drive around the neighborhood? I'm sure anyone can spout off some quote of X dollars, but what do you get in return? The simplest things in life can't be priced.

You child's laughter at one of your cheesiest jokes, a tight squeeze of the hands and you walk across the street or parking lot, a sincere "Thank you, Daddy", a nuzzle in the tummy of your infant child to evoke a gaggle of giggles. Days like today happen often, but I'm guilty of not taking advantage of them. Go hug your special ones; tell the ones that matter "Thanks" and that you love them. Make that call that you've been putting off for two weeks. Now is the best time. It always is.

How to Play "Let's Go Band" in the Middle of the Street - Chapter 1: The Introduction

Do you remember when...?

It's so easy for most people to finish that statement and drift away into Reminisce Cove. You think about all those little [insert plural noun] that would always [insert colorful verb], and how [insert "crazy" person] would just [insert another colorful verb]. I don't think that it matters much if you grew up in a city or small town, there are always instances that form those memories. I'd bet that any person could write a million pages just on their youth and how it helped shaped who they became.

For me, I'm thinking about the first time I met him. I'd seen him in Mrs. Hastedt's class many times. He only sat a few desks away, with his light orange colored plastic clamshell box. Totally different from what the rest of us had: hard cardboard boxes that tore after two weeks. We really didn't talk much that year, or even the next few years after. It wasn't until Mrs. Stevens' class that our friendship would begin.

Mrs. Stevens' is perhaps the most pivotal teacher in my life. I'm sure most everyone has one of those. If you don't, I'm truly sorry. She was able to convey to me so many lessons in life and academia that it would truly cloud your mind with curiosity and drive. Perhaps I also liked her class as I shared it with a number of others, who like me, had similar study habits: smart students who truly disliked and were too good for homework. It seemed as if Sugie, ReShawn, Kris, and I would always not have our homework. And would you know it? Mrs. Stevens always found time to call our parents and let them know of our transgressions.

It was one day early in the school year that Kris and I just were talking about nothing in particular. As our time ran out, we wanted to continue it after school. As I didn't have to be home at any particular time, I decided to walk with Kris to his house. A nice walk, we talked about pretty much everything important to us at that time: bands and music, Band class, girls, candy, and water guns. We made an obligatory pit stop at Winn's and continued onward. What struck me most was arriving at his house: he had a really cool looking Frankenstein monster bust on the porch. Super cool! As we approached, his mother was waiting. She had a bit of a scowl on her face, and after talking briefly with Kris, looked to me and said, "David, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to go home. Kris is still grounded, and he should have told you. Maybe you can come over again some other time." Dejected, I began the long walk back to my house.

Next time: Love for Guns