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October 31, 2004: The Home Stretch

It’s 2:49 E.D.T. here, and I should be asleep. But I can’t rest. I can’t resist these thoughts I have. In a couple weeks--maybe less--my wife will give birth to our second child.

Seth’s still in diapers, and this doesn’t seem real. Not much time has passed since we visited King’s Island, and we had yet to conceive our first child.

I hate rollercoasters, and I told my wife I wouldn’t ride one, but she looked sad and lonely standing in the line, and “Top Gun” didn’t look that intimidating. “It’s not one of the scarier coasters,” my wife convinced me. And I told myself that the ride didn’t last longer than a couple minutes--one minute and fifty-two seconds precisely--and how I would have fun sharing the amusement with my wife. So I stepped in line, and I took her hand, and I smiled, and I listened to my wife reassure me about the ride, and where it rose, where it dropped, where it turned, and where it dipped.

I was right about the ride. It lasted one minute and fifty-two seconds. And my continuous scream upon “Top Gun’s” descent clocked in at one minute and forty seconds. I estimate the length of my scream based on my estimate of the time the rollercoaster took to reach its apex, and my wife’s account of the event. I don’t wear a watch, and if I did, it would not have mattered because I had also closed my eyes in the nanosecond before the ride plunged.

Parenting Seth reminds me of my journey on “Top Gun.” In the months preceding his birth, my wife and I imagined his arrival and plotted our parenting strategies. We prepared his room, we read books, we watched documentaries, and we solicited other parents for advice. Although we knew that the unfolding events would not perfectly parallel them as we planned, we believed our preparation would--at the very least--allow us to improvise from changes in the imagined script. But despite the books that told my wife how easy nursing is, it proved difficult for her, and the more difficulty she encountered, the more horrifying parenting an infant became for us. You think you can plan for how you will respond to your two-day old infant’s cries for milk on his first night home from the hospital, but, trust me, it is not as simple as you would believe. (I’m sure some folks will think it’s easy, however, especially considering how many people believe the Bush administration’s lies about the military action in Iraq. Hey, you didn’t think I would forget about the election in two days, now, did you? But I digress.)

We still don’t know when Lydia will arrive. We’ve finished decorating and painting her room, however, and we’ve garnered several lessons about parenting from raising Seth. But how do you raise two children who wear diapers? Especially if you have two children who may share the ability to emit one, continuous, two-minute scream? The prospect scares me almost as much as riding “Top Gun” at King’s Island.

Actually, it doesn’t. And if you think a one minute and fifty-two second scream is ridiculous, watch my reaction if Bush wins this thing again on Tuesday.

October 30, 2004: Halloween 2004

While some parents opted to dress their children in truly warped some interesting and unconventional Halloween costumes this year, my wife and I opted for the more traditional “oatmeal” bear costume for Seth. (It’s denoted “oatmeal” because that’s what the costume’s outer fabric resembles.) In the future, Seth may thank us for not dressing him as a 2004 ballot box--unless, of course, he develops his father’s sense of humor and progressive views on politics.

Decision 2004: Do I venture down the street with dad to collect treats?

(Seth resisted our efforts to walk down the street to collect candy from our neighbors. He allowed me to carry him to three houses before launching into his character of a very angry and unhappy bear who preferred playing in the yard over visiting houses. Seth loved exploring the yard, though!)

Here they are! Seth watches the kids arrive in their costumes. The first hour brought about one hundred trick-or-treaters to our home--and proved that no matter how hard we try, we never can gauge trick-or-treat turnout in our area. Maybe we should ask Zogby for help with our predictions next year.

Seth loves him some dandelions. Picking them kept him busy most of the night.

Do not feed this bear. It’s almost his bedtime!

October 29, 2004: Political Plug

Click here for a West Virginia overview I wrote for The American Street. I’ll post some pictures from Halloween soon.

October 23, 2004: Deadly Oxymoron

The Red Sox beat the New York Yankees, a riot ensues in Boston, and the police shoot “non-lethal” projectiles into the crowd. One of these “non-lethal” projectiles killed a young lady.

I don’t know the exact substance or matter the Boston police used. But to believe any projectile could never pose lethal danger to anyone is to ignore the essence of a projectile: It is a weapon. Under the right conditions, many “non-lethal” objects could pose as dangerous weapons. The casual viewer of “CSI” knows this and understands the lurking threat of a ten-pound frozen turkey to the intruder who unlawfully enters the premises of someone who owns no firearms.

Whether it’s rubber bullets or pepper-gas pellets, anything thrown into a crowd has lethal potential. The dangers inherent in “non-lethal” projectiles are obvious as evidenced by this report.

The mayor of Boston first blamed the sale of liquor for the tragedy. That’s the usual response when riots happen. Blame the alcohol. Then blame those young punks who want to destroy the fabric of the community. But beer didn’t kill that 21-year-old journalism student who was celebrating with her friends; excessive force by the police did.

Calling a weapon “non-lethal” is a disingenous attempt to conceal the unnecessary violence our law enforcement uses against our people.