tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36479647439922340882024-03-13T17:29:58.461-04:00An Interdisciplinary LifeFamily, Sports, Politics, Random Rants:
@bertoinpublic,
facebook.com/interdisciplinarylife/Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.comBlogger223125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-67922603447046380452023-07-14T15:36:00.012-04:002023-08-27T21:03:27.831-04:00#40for40Race 2023<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHSA5bLe2i2kOToVBXF4B_ZH5IKEtQ7R0hiCkf_Mpw7hRKShzqb5NGxMiwpf4C13aJ72YuOhrE0NaV6Se0QfcVeMLNOQOBDCS0hMEnxtt6ZyRUs1VCSSM3ZVLjWEzT0wsmYYPIfp4xWf5WKSkpq9iroUSTkvEl_Bw1JJKBqwlXnDLXTnTlc3NkJrc7Dc/s1600/6aHzEy0D.jpg-large.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="40 for 40 logo: A grey background. Centered is a field of vertical rainbow stripes. In front of the stripes are the silhouettes of four runners who appear to be running towards the viewer. Two are male coded, two are female coded." border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHSA5bLe2i2kOToVBXF4B_ZH5IKEtQ7R0hiCkf_Mpw7hRKShzqb5NGxMiwpf4C13aJ72YuOhrE0NaV6Se0QfcVeMLNOQOBDCS0hMEnxtt6ZyRUs1VCSSM3ZVLjWEzT0wsmYYPIfp4xWf5WKSkpq9iroUSTkvEl_Bw1JJKBqwlXnDLXTnTlc3NkJrc7Dc/w546-h308/6aHzEy0D.jpg-large.jpeg" width="546" /></a></div><p>Ugh. It's fully embarrassing that I haven't written anything in a full year. It's been a hell of a year though. Since last July, I have been promoted at work and made significant progress on my dissertation. So I've been writing, just not publicly. T was on Jeopardy! She didn't win, so we're not rich. But I'm not really here to talk about any of that. I'm here to announce the 40 for 40 Race for The 2023! </p><p>I am super excited that Greg, Doug and Lauren (aka the Brothers in Booze Team) are back to support the cause. They were so instrumental last year in getting the word out and hosting the stream. This year, we're all back and hoping to build on last year's awesomeness. </p><p>So, what's the 40 for 40 Race for The? It all started with a writer named John Finkle tweeting that it would be fun to see 40 year old dads compete in a 40 yard dash. I agreed and since <a href="http://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2020/08/running-for-charity-announcing-berto-77.html" target="_blank">I love weird running gimmicks</a>, I decided to do it. I chose my mom's birthday as the date for the race because it felt right to do this in her honor. The more I talked about it, the more I realized that it shouldn't just be dads or just parents or even just running. I didn't want anyone to be left out. So we expanded it women, non-binary folks, childless people and added additional categories. In order to include everyone we also had prizes for the silliest run and for the most creative locomotion. In other words, you don't need to run. Just propel yourself forward 40 yards by some means. </p><p>Last years' live stream was a ton of fun. Surprisingly, I won, barely beating out the aforementioned Mr. Finkle. Together, we raised $1,300 that went out to eight charities chosen by the winning runners and those who donated. Which brings us to the grammar question.</p><p>What is called the 40 for 40 Race for The? The what? Exactly. The what is determined by the race winners. Runners placing 1-3 in the traditional race get to designate a portion of the pot to the charity of their choice. Winners of funniest or most creative runs get to choose charities also. Donors who pick the winning runners also get money donated to the charity of their choice. </p><p>So that's the lowdown. This year's race will take place on Sunday, September 10th, 2023. We are recruiting runners and soliciting donations. Runners can be from anywhere in the world. What we'd like from you is to let us know what time you will be running if you will be live streaming your run or you can record your run to be broadcast during the stream. To register, fill out this Google Form: <a href="https://forms.gle/7v4gavCDQCwLYVHj8" target="_blank">This is the link to the Google Form</a>. To donate, please visit the Go Fund Me: <a href="https://gofund.me/6e6bb89a" target="_blank">This is the link to the Go Fund Me</a>.</p><p>As racers register, I will update this page with their bios.</p><p>Thanks! I can't wait!</p><p><br /></p><p><b>PROFILES:</b></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cH7Nt2BT3gYWlx3N-8xkV_yBdlcxdAKo7QqUMahhI3_3kws0rB7RPml-mM3GqTsxlIEngQ-ogrR-rR0C5OJfRlPe3vSNaeAEf8TAwwp0aRnLhfXCgNsqd-4gyKc7CzCXOmIEoJoBPRObrTsUy_Rb0JPJDwUikoGJNZBHiZVXncyeb0T2-SIKAzimvUA/s1023/IMG_3234.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="768" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cH7Nt2BT3gYWlx3N-8xkV_yBdlcxdAKo7QqUMahhI3_3kws0rB7RPml-mM3GqTsxlIEngQ-ogrR-rR0C5OJfRlPe3vSNaeAEf8TAwwp0aRnLhfXCgNsqd-4gyKc7CzCXOmIEoJoBPRObrTsUy_Rb0JPJDwUikoGJNZBHiZVXncyeb0T2-SIKAzimvUA/w127-h170/IMG_3234.JPG" width="127" /></a></b></div><b>Name:</b> Roberto Santiago<p></p><div><b>Age:</b> 46</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Athletic Bonafides:</b> Played DIII rugby for many years, currently referees rugby, once ran a very slow marathon, still has the same waist size as he did in high school. Winner of 2022 40 for 40 Race.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Charity: </b><a href="https://www.wholewomanshealth.com" target="_blank">Whole Woman's Health</a> (Texas abortion clinic moving to New Mexico)</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH29x0U88k6oiclPTBEJb5HVfReY4sFuQdDbgukwgegb24x_lXNC6pxdamLfYmGZ0goUkpYcSo5SEhDcLDMXObwtaLK5O8VDm6TdPC8PQ9B3-w5xJvw22GRu5D9D1FYEZPeTUFqsvZhP0Y2IN1fx8kFQZELP3ArLWRNSF27JYDgWiud1jEVw35o6ciTDg/s3088/IMG_4740%20-%20Jonathan%20Heisey-Grove.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH29x0U88k6oiclPTBEJb5HVfReY4sFuQdDbgukwgegb24x_lXNC6pxdamLfYmGZ0goUkpYcSo5SEhDcLDMXObwtaLK5O8VDm6TdPC8PQ9B3-w5xJvw22GRu5D9D1FYEZPeTUFqsvZhP0Y2IN1fx8kFQZELP3ArLWRNSF27JYDgWiud1jEVw35o6ciTDg/w127-h169/IMG_4740%20-%20Jonathan%20Heisey-Grove.jpeg" width="127" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">Name: </b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">Jonathan Heisey-Grove (JHG)</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;" /></span><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Age: </b>51</span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Athletic Bonafides:</b> <span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gym rat trying to reclaim my waistline from the ravages of beer and food, & 4x century ride finisher (I.e. avid bike rider)</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Charity: </b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://athomedad.org/fathersovercomingadversityfund/" target="_blank">Fathers Overcoming Adversity Fund</a> (A fund to support fathers and families that have suffered from an unexpected physical injury that impairs the ability of fathers to care for their children. A fund of The National At-Home Dad Network) </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAo-NL1GNPmscSDyLiweSUWjjhC-0BZcmWPxWTx7uQpG31PEDlnVXQw-i682IP7X9Qitw2r60vyoR9nEFav756MKxeA3EnJRS1jopD9ebLOGACldWOts9l_a3BrwgOhzlISISd_i8JdZ0kb1-zBFQOSre3pgZxTP1V23dYbcDrv0KIsiQGAEUzieCKniM/s2048/mikebkarate%20-%20A%20Benton.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAo-NL1GNPmscSDyLiweSUWjjhC-0BZcmWPxWTx7uQpG31PEDlnVXQw-i682IP7X9Qitw2r60vyoR9nEFav756MKxeA3EnJRS1jopD9ebLOGACldWOts9l_a3BrwgOhzlISISd_i8JdZ0kb1-zBFQOSre3pgZxTP1V23dYbcDrv0KIsiQGAEUzieCKniM/w183-h122/mikebkarate%20-%20A%20Benton.jpg" width="183" /></a></div></span><b style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">Name: </b><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">Mike Benton</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;" /><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Age: </b>65</span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Athletic Bonafides:</b> <span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;">4th degree black belt in karate, hates running, but master of the long-distance walk</span></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Charity: </b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.innabah.org/" target="_blank">Camp Innabah and Retreat Center</a></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj4G6YfqZ2lwjAVopIJco1GlHoaKjV5Pd_T4lUtNHrfIUdViVpjFyDD-AUMe2zDD90GOWlgZuY5WN5jwsDLUnKyDLZYL99o514G7THVFQxXmZ6_X9vGGznfGqGpUrJuHNrm536K_MUN3JEXzB3No6N_MvwE3xyruY2EkcZY8NYI57eVG12ykUWL6UuyLA/s4032/IMG_0029%20-%20Joseph%20Fowler.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj4G6YfqZ2lwjAVopIJco1GlHoaKjV5Pd_T4lUtNHrfIUdViVpjFyDD-AUMe2zDD90GOWlgZuY5WN5jwsDLUnKyDLZYL99o514G7THVFQxXmZ6_X9vGGznfGqGpUrJuHNrm536K_MUN3JEXzB3No6N_MvwE3xyruY2EkcZY8NYI57eVG12ykUWL6UuyLA/w139-h186/IMG_0029%20-%20Joseph%20Fowler.jpeg" width="139" /></a></div><b style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><div><b style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><br /></b></div>Name: </b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Joseph Fowler</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;" /></span><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Age: </b>47</span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Athletic Bonafides:</b> <span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Played college Football. Recently did a push-up. Owns running shoes. </span></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Charity: </b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://Www.RMHC.org" target="_blank">RMHC (Ronald McDonald House Charities)</a></span></span></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifORfE9sbA6EgocYiePQxLfSFPAb3vDs3YJwbzGgLUCZTU9Hn1GFFeX8uob2UYXox-RdGg41jtX82VUjzd5wuEX9vUW5aDQrdh5bkiEVK-K_LsDxwauuW8rvJDOiAs5Fi0SdOcHu7wQ1yNus83m3G_Kf7DuXEvJYRVi2yDXe04f_LqnHEgjiq7JML-s0E/s3264/IMG_20230813_195942%20-%20Andy%20Kleiber.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifORfE9sbA6EgocYiePQxLfSFPAb3vDs3YJwbzGgLUCZTU9Hn1GFFeX8uob2UYXox-RdGg41jtX82VUjzd5wuEX9vUW5aDQrdh5bkiEVK-K_LsDxwauuW8rvJDOiAs5Fi0SdOcHu7wQ1yNus83m3G_Kf7DuXEvJYRVi2yDXe04f_LqnHEgjiq7JML-s0E/w141-h188/IMG_20230813_195942%20-%20Andy%20Kleiber.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><br /></b></span></div>Name: </b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Andy Kleiber</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;" /></span><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Age: </b>54</span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Athletic Bonafides:</b> <span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bike as much as possible. Have run 2 marathons. Play ultimate 🥏 on occasion. Regular beer drinker </span></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Charity: </b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://rideforareason.weebly.com/" target="_blank">Ride 4 a Reason </a></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7VFC_k-LUlnUXKzzBGoZc1ZIjE1BD_0cAE5sXja68UIjFk_MnTzY1uGNJlnpSjyPSNpGmrTUxbKfjlJO2ZVsAiOcNQTHpNAwfukRTs_oWT4R20mHOqkr_ZnrVqdaMKo7TNgFqjCfj5lEOBbqmkIdCcrMUX5t-w7kl1mz2eHwVDOR4Afav7D2gVvwqXBc/s3241/4C821274-70E3-4CB3-BFDF-B1F1C36939EC%20-%20Keleigh%20Anders.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2871" data-original-width="3241" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7VFC_k-LUlnUXKzzBGoZc1ZIjE1BD_0cAE5sXja68UIjFk_MnTzY1uGNJlnpSjyPSNpGmrTUxbKfjlJO2ZVsAiOcNQTHpNAwfukRTs_oWT4R20mHOqkr_ZnrVqdaMKo7TNgFqjCfj5lEOBbqmkIdCcrMUX5t-w7kl1mz2eHwVDOR4Afav7D2gVvwqXBc/w219-h194/4C821274-70E3-4CB3-BFDF-B1F1C36939EC%20-%20Keleigh%20Anders.jpeg" width="219" /></a></div><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><div><b style="font-weight: bold;">Name: </b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #202124;">Kel Anders</span></span></div></span><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Age:</b> 44</span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Athletic Bonafides:</b> </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For run day I will be 8 months pregnant as a gestational surrogate (my seventh and final pregnancy). Pretty slow runner even without the current hitchhiker situation, however I do think it could be an entertaining waddle. </span></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Charity: </b><a href="http://randomacts.org" target="_blank">Random Acts</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLdcJ6OnEhjJn0jpEvEdQBLMnkMx6FTuYnpCdO-elGb91Bp0izCXpJsxSArJWgExEOrS-yloE-KH0oiKZTrqcW74k7kuC67UNwzaqVDGPJNZgzuIRhHyYeua7krRynw7Gk_Mw7budShm058JhJxbP_kF7rgOrjFcjsybFsDRNkX5UibWmx1M7Hc8l0d5g/s935/Hat_Headshot%20-%20Doug%20Zeigler.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="933" data-original-width="935" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLdcJ6OnEhjJn0jpEvEdQBLMnkMx6FTuYnpCdO-elGb91Bp0izCXpJsxSArJWgExEOrS-yloE-KH0oiKZTrqcW74k7kuC67UNwzaqVDGPJNZgzuIRhHyYeua7krRynw7Gk_Mw7budShm058JhJxbP_kF7rgOrjFcjsybFsDRNkX5UibWmx1M7Hc8l0d5g/w218-h217/Hat_Headshot%20-%20Doug%20Zeigler.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><b style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><div><b style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><br /></b></div>Name: </b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #202124;">Doug "Dug" Zeigler</span></span><br style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;" /><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Age:</b> 51</span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Athletic Bonafides:</b> <span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Played basketball in HS and DIII in college. Former house dancer</span></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Charity: </b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/the-staff-of-papaaina-lahaina" target="_blank">The Staff of Papa'aina & Pioneer Inn Lahaina</a></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg83fPjw-8MjNRKTqbp5NWZctQDwd-8trFwF7AxQPj3OyCB_WeinHpL9-l7-h13D5YXeZo9qQAxIB8nRkQ7CC3lsPI56yATPbO_ghcaSeCiluKGXTj_ZCwsVUxP2TPqBiLxunDsqTSR1pxV3e5XG9UKu4BTnvSs40bruvjlBZlGyHGmZkZR7nAbe9Hl2Mg/s809/IMG_4121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="809" data-original-width="750" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg83fPjw-8MjNRKTqbp5NWZctQDwd-8trFwF7AxQPj3OyCB_WeinHpL9-l7-h13D5YXeZo9qQAxIB8nRkQ7CC3lsPI56yATPbO_ghcaSeCiluKGXTj_ZCwsVUxP2TPqBiLxunDsqTSR1pxV3e5XG9UKu4BTnvSs40bruvjlBZlGyHGmZkZR7nAbe9Hl2Mg/w217-h233/IMG_4121.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><br /><div><b style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">Name: </b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #202124;">Brandi Thomas</span></span><br style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;" /><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Age:</b> 43</span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Athletic Bonafides:</b> </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ran a 10k in 3rd grade, can bench press 5 lbs., undefeated champ of "Most Tetherballs to the Face" at Saginaw Elementary, thinks cheese is mana from the gods, is lactose intolerant. </span></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><b>Charity: </b></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://Clubemu.org" target="_blank">Club Everyone, Me and U</a></span></span></div></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>You can watch last year's stream below or by following this link: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/live/dL9OoF1MddQ?feature=share" target="_blank">40 for 40 Stream Link</a></div><p><br /></p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dL9OoF1MddQ" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-31582400679147060422022-07-01T18:13:00.018-04:002022-09-06T14:18:28.464-04:00The 40 for 40 Race for The<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNzkNSknuOvedfgbf_HKf6AY40bJbYYoaNiKVdygG_3nbpDbVUGYd7E0sgQo4TDMbo4Z5PlxdzMDgfXE25aV_3I1Ajaha4PO4SXW37N1XNL6P8-e7k3fCaXF69VJ8JoNqK0JvrA6XpkaCuKy5a0DsshIQ5O5Z2f2oRf2gVph4i077ysZt9WdLce1Mt/s1600/IMG_1773.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNzkNSknuOvedfgbf_HKf6AY40bJbYYoaNiKVdygG_3nbpDbVUGYd7E0sgQo4TDMbo4Z5PlxdzMDgfXE25aV_3I1Ajaha4PO4SXW37N1XNL6P8-e7k3fCaXF69VJ8JoNqK0JvrA6XpkaCuKy5a0DsshIQ5O5Z2f2oRf2gVph4i077ysZt9WdLce1Mt/w426-h240/IMG_1773.PNG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Hello, friends! I am writing to introduce you to my next hairbrained charity running event, the 40 for 40 Race for The. "The what," you may ask as you read my apparent nonsense. "The whatever you want." I answer in a way that provides little immediate clarity. Please bear with me just a little and I will explain.<p></p><p>You may recall that at the start of the pandemic, I set up and ran the <a href="http://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2020/08/running-for-charity-announcing-berto-77.html" target="_blank">Berto 77 at Home Marathon</a>. The event was a success. I ran my first ever marathon entirely around my block and I raised $2,400 for my local foodbank. T and the kids also chose charities, gathered pledges and ran laps. Ryu ran 15 miles over the course of the day. It was fun and we helped our community. Now I'm back with another idea.</p><p><b>The 40 for 40 race for The</b></p><p>This time, I want to include as many of you as runners as I can. This event will take place on September 10th, 2022 at locations across the country. The idea is simple, runners 40 years of age or older will run a 40 yard dash. This run will be live streamed for an audience of how ever may people are interested in seeing 40-year-olds run. The top three finishers will have pledge money donated to the charity of their choice. They will also get a nifty medal. The whole thing will be hosted online and live-streamed by our friends Greg and Doug of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/daddyporter" target="_blank">Brothers in Booze</a>.</p><p><b>Ok, where does the money come from? </b></p><p>Great question! We have posted bios for each runner, below. Fans can pledge for the runner they think will win. This pledge is a donation to charity. However, I am working on securing some sort of prize or prize drawing for those who pick the winners. More on that to come. You can pledge on the <a href="https://gofund.me/abac0ec6" target="_blank">Go Fund Me</a> page. I will post runner bios here on the post as they come in.</p><p><b>What do I want from you?</b></p><p>Another great question. I'd like you to consider running, or pledging. I'd like you to follow me on twitter (<a href="https://twitter.com/BertoInPublic" target="_blank">@bertoinpublic</a>) for updates. I'd like you to "Like" the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/40-for-40-Race-for-The-109827605088620" target="_blank">40 for 40 race for The</a> page on Facebook. </p><p>If you want to run, please DM me on Twitter, or post on the 40 for 40 Facebook page!</p><p>If you have any fun corporate connections, please contact me and let's talk about sponsorships. I'd really like to have some prizes donated for the winning pledgers.</p><p><b>All Set?</b></p><p>Please reach out if you have any questions or suggestions.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXJyaxE_D_EIJ8Q1hLFpqOol6pyX3wj-WDG37Thk23Vsiqj-AQ8vXzlZiH-lHTf9O9p7Ldd-Om3vpW6wk3vZ8kkEMdiH9RxZBx1IqLdqguiQY3YeTcDiUAzLcDJsrhtmVDBzeWXnG0Q6YWwYAZihvq6fTMD8s0Tfo_H6qcl_d_u980nSGhblV6SL1q/s468/118703535_10100177257686953_5192387023470840037_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="468" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXJyaxE_D_EIJ8Q1hLFpqOol6pyX3wj-WDG37Thk23Vsiqj-AQ8vXzlZiH-lHTf9O9p7Ldd-Om3vpW6wk3vZ8kkEMdiH9RxZBx1IqLdqguiQY3YeTcDiUAzLcDJsrhtmVDBzeWXnG0Q6YWwYAZihvq6fTMD8s0Tfo_H6qcl_d_u980nSGhblV6SL1q/w405-h305/118703535_10100177257686953_5192387023470840037_n.jpg" width="405" /></a></div><br /><p><b>Runner Bios:</b></p><p>Check out these runners and pledge for ones you think can post the fastest 40 time.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWVEJC-W-ru9_ANX10gjNAeoDsUBPhJfDurCWkT8Yh2_uo73N9ZrCZL3wfwd6Yq5f_1awK_bGrSkxmdjD-b4lq8uVdxdMwpU9YNyQlvk1v-fBRERPXVR_kz2h4weMLo2Fs78xKP8oBvHb72yJ4k3DtZ0fSqbSZoHjOG1PAsnWpBKQmLciSUDwRLCne/s600/10407142_10152826145789889_4258122342453208154_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Berto bing lifted up by two other players jumping to grab a ball during a rugby match" border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="406" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWVEJC-W-ru9_ANX10gjNAeoDsUBPhJfDurCWkT8Yh2_uo73N9ZrCZL3wfwd6Yq5f_1awK_bGrSkxmdjD-b4lq8uVdxdMwpU9YNyQlvk1v-fBRERPXVR_kz2h4weMLo2Fs78xKP8oBvHb72yJ4k3DtZ0fSqbSZoHjOG1PAsnWpBKQmLciSUDwRLCne/w143-h210/10407142_10152826145789889_4258122342453208154_n.jpg" width="143" /></a></div><b>Name:</b> Roberto Santiago<div><br /></div><div><b>Age:</b> 45</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Athletic Bonafides:</b> Played DIII rugby for many years, currently referees rugby, once ran a very slow marathon, still has the same waist size as he did in high school.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Charity: </b><a href="https://www.wholewomanshealth.com" target="_blank">Whole Woman's Health</a> (Texas abortion clinic moving to New Mexico)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUnuqPb_rsPwW8oVM4wziZTXjF4rrG7TGesBmwdJZyQH6YP9_9ksSL-kBRvxZEpyveAt1E_dxJ6AZTVcuGSrhzRXLgNuq_n7spn7AVWePKMyxaQ3QZDWSsqorPAMRn_qYz5NqlXhEnEsqG3frI5i6WYq2mSycdB90tQpjYpGKt5IKe3nxpKGGKNWHL/s555/61056756_977204383403_4559575510937501696_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="555" data-original-width="425" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUnuqPb_rsPwW8oVM4wziZTXjF4rrG7TGesBmwdJZyQH6YP9_9ksSL-kBRvxZEpyveAt1E_dxJ6AZTVcuGSrhzRXLgNuq_n7spn7AVWePKMyxaQ3QZDWSsqorPAMRn_qYz5NqlXhEnEsqG3frI5i6WYq2mSycdB90tQpjYpGKt5IKe3nxpKGGKNWHL/w143-h187/61056756_977204383403_4559575510937501696_n.jpg" width="143" /></a></div><b>Name:</b> Tenysa Santiago<div><br /></div><div><b>Age:</b> 40</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Athletic Bonafides: </b>Distance runner with a marathon and several half-marathons to her credit, once picked up a soccer ball during a match.<br /><div><br /><p><b>Charity: </b><a href="https://www.rit.edu/ntid/das/randleman#giving" target="_blank">The Randleman Program</a></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJB_F60H-Ye5tKFYvEfiUideZ6bSiYHOLLLcZ7DG7tt0DBsO6EL14lNGQJLsGjVt0TkDXkbIDf0vFdHVcysgUc51sW7AYdcDChT0KBDjfwW9S7A3Xg2DBGJVnZQhshNir2GZo6qsmvhxqNl9e7KmGnEmDig32WlyH5-GyoYbAEJ-KMAAz23BW8mQEJ/s2468/FullSizeRender.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2468" data-original-width="1956" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJB_F60H-Ye5tKFYvEfiUideZ6bSiYHOLLLcZ7DG7tt0DBsO6EL14lNGQJLsGjVt0TkDXkbIDf0vFdHVcysgUc51sW7AYdcDChT0KBDjfwW9S7A3Xg2DBGJVnZQhshNir2GZo6qsmvhxqNl9e7KmGnEmDig32WlyH5-GyoYbAEJ-KMAAz23BW8mQEJ/w140-h177/FullSizeRender.jpeg" width="140" /></a></div><b>Name: </b>Kel Anders</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Age: </b>43</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Athletic Bonafides: </b>Recently ran away from a washing machine falling down steps and successfully avoided crushing. Frequently enjoys 1-1.5 miles daily running on what they fondly refer to as “goat trails”. Former 15K runner (before birth of kids #5 & #6). Excellent birth-giving sprinting skills with most rapid birth being 37 minutes start to finish (obviously this skillset will translate to this run). Very competitive and tenacious. But, you know, in a kind way.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Charity: </b><a href="https://www.randomacts.org" target="_blank">Random Acts Inc.</a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sX3aqG__pm37RTLcmFLzo8X22gQMBg_k1n4hTxDwegCpYqQ6Ld5IpKMQk0QV5Mjyn4oooquA-Ny5Cte1-YmAeOeYTjmhbxEOEFKjBknvnomYoObJ6KCp7U6X8JgrwuRcrxQBwSqDdBAHyD7qisorH1lak2F9mBeS4ILbo241r0eMv46kIDJIG4sE/s932/IMG_1595.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="932" data-original-width="750" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sX3aqG__pm37RTLcmFLzo8X22gQMBg_k1n4hTxDwegCpYqQ6Ld5IpKMQk0QV5Mjyn4oooquA-Ny5Cte1-YmAeOeYTjmhbxEOEFKjBknvnomYoObJ6KCp7U6X8JgrwuRcrxQBwSqDdBAHyD7qisorH1lak2F9mBeS4ILbo241r0eMv46kIDJIG4sE/w143-h177/IMG_1595.jpg" width="143" /></a></div><b>Name: </b>Shawn Cochrane</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Age: </b>55 on race day</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Athletic Bonafides: </b>Marathon Runner. Boston Qualifier. XC Coach at Canyon Middle School. USATF Certified Level 1 Track & Field Coach. Runs with the Oakland Track Club<br /><br /><b>Charity: </b>Castro Valley Sports Foundation<br /><div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIQEoSp5NpQGJeix0RLnlRjb31ne4ZVEt0qq79eR1QVQ3jm47l4mESG2JkrpPKAp2Ntpum2vrWWobKAeIsdTv5L5qTBRThX93gl6WC3xR8TuQQhw07KscwS9G4qWEG6hjlJOR7_d-zGE-WwHLW56bsSGjpHraByuUfc69CDF2RESdP69e256--hTP/s731/Photo%201%2040for40.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="731" data-original-width="497" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIQEoSp5NpQGJeix0RLnlRjb31ne4ZVEt0qq79eR1QVQ3jm47l4mESG2JkrpPKAp2Ntpum2vrWWobKAeIsdTv5L5qTBRThX93gl6WC3xR8TuQQhw07KscwS9G4qWEG6hjlJOR7_d-zGE-WwHLW56bsSGjpHraByuUfc69CDF2RESdP69e256--hTP/w140-h200/Photo%201%2040for40.jpg" width="140" /></a></div><b>Name: </b>Shanda Taber</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Age: </b>40</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Athletic Bonafides: </b>Since late 2019 I've been trying to become a runner. I started out only being able to run a half mile to now doing 6-mile average runs. Better at distance than speed, but can move fast if needed. I ran real quick when I was being followed by a bear in Canada. I haven't done any marathons, but I've participated in a few virtual 5Ks and did a terrain race/ mud run before the pandemic. I also walk everywhere so am very used to being physically active. Before running I didn't do a lot of sports, but in my 20s I used to go mountain biking with a group of blind and visually impaired people. We would also go hiking and rock climbing. I'm good at a challenge. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Charity: </b><a href="https://castrovalleysportsfoundation.org" target="_blank">Trust Women (Abortion Rights Organization)</a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5uJoLlGbg2bxk5EU3XP7ramiaoAhNoLjBCv7oMEnw0iAJF95ngGm06cp2C56AbeumN3UVbb7AeYOcawUlIbK4SSja187ABjF67onTDw9pSuiv2SK8071LRaAgb8XWgZkajmVpZCuBTR84SEe18DkX_mqcwWCJCkucJRaiywG_mGiRX-0ZYkXv8LTT/s2592/IMG_20220508_090509696.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5uJoLlGbg2bxk5EU3XP7ramiaoAhNoLjBCv7oMEnw0iAJF95ngGm06cp2C56AbeumN3UVbb7AeYOcawUlIbK4SSja187ABjF67onTDw9pSuiv2SK8071LRaAgb8XWgZkajmVpZCuBTR84SEe18DkX_mqcwWCJCkucJRaiywG_mGiRX-0ZYkXv8LTT/w143-h107/IMG_20220508_090509696.jpg" width="143" /></a></div><b>Name: </b>Dolly Cummings</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Age: </b>63</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Athletic Bonafides: </b>My one and only 5k when I was in my 20s ( we don't have to mention my time, do we?).</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Charity: </b>Camp Bayou Outdoor Learning Center, Ruskin, Fl (<a href="http://campbayou.org/">campbayou.org</a>).</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7457zOX4eD8IB1bpPAgxV_JCMC1IWVn9GAGizfOBHtcCaTVh52Whyp0Y1k667BTKvkGmQ8IlJs23ASOwYXVqds6idy2FfIjRLWKmWsyMj2BMsePMdP4CxnO9Lt-l0wzAhxx2WowtkMlC61tO4GsKc_O1dVi6B8xFCyfv-G3sBexwp7dyJDecvaCnY/s1280/image0.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7457zOX4eD8IB1bpPAgxV_JCMC1IWVn9GAGizfOBHtcCaTVh52Whyp0Y1k667BTKvkGmQ8IlJs23ASOwYXVqds6idy2FfIjRLWKmWsyMj2BMsePMdP4CxnO9Lt-l0wzAhxx2WowtkMlC61tO4GsKc_O1dVi6B8xFCyfv-G3sBexwp7dyJDecvaCnY/w143-h190/image0.jpeg" width="143" /></a></div><b>Name:</b> Victor Aragon<br /><br /><b>Age:</b> 47 <br /><br /><b>Athletic Bonafides: </b>I have completed the Warrior Dash multiple times and ran over 6 Spartan Races. I have run multiple 5Ks and 10ks. I ran the Chicago Marathon 2x. I ran two St. Jude Memphis (Virtual) Half-Marathons.<br /><br /><b>Charity:</b> <a href="http://stjude.org" target="_blank">St. Jude Children’s Hospital </a><br /><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiquVhXBf8Ly1gh2AbDYKR9EfrXtKyLUd-lMrWKkkP6IcJKPGfNAIBvQRJOwfWG7dGTYEXnW4oUG4_OqxZBjpqYFeSOpOUpNY9OkA6yT87UgXl0QC3OMcD6hWn4XkywIe6AftZm0SlMMEBxmaK-e2v9ZImhpdX8FdbxVwBYmkROktihvHE1dFBPlGiB/s635/IMG_B562670D82ED-1.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="635" data-original-width="476" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiquVhXBf8Ly1gh2AbDYKR9EfrXtKyLUd-lMrWKkkP6IcJKPGfNAIBvQRJOwfWG7dGTYEXnW4oUG4_OqxZBjpqYFeSOpOUpNY9OkA6yT87UgXl0QC3OMcD6hWn4XkywIe6AftZm0SlMMEBxmaK-e2v9ZImhpdX8FdbxVwBYmkROktihvHE1dFBPlGiB/w140-h187/IMG_B562670D82ED-1.jpeg" width="140" /></a></div><b>Name: </b>Jonathan Heisey-Grove (JHG)<br /><div><br /></div><div><b>Age: </b>50</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Athletic Bonafides:</b> Four time century ride cyclist who isn’t afraid of a little running!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Charity: </b><a href="https://athomedad.org" target="_blank">National At-Home Dad Network</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZubDVqVIuSMAgMR-BL1tBXrFVAO0K8D_WkJxW_5eS0coi6pu29HfcrLoivYIR5pUGNnKQpOoJeW9iHrLDeYlAFlfaGKXOE_Dv2HDaoM8bTAFp4Qt9f7gHAE_xbetIbp2b2s2UdUa9i3ErSqocvfJhMYwegvVVfTdsBUI61Ac2O94Fnke7U6U2mEEy/s4032/67C2C72B-8EA6-4731-85B7-EBF7F456FA75%20-%20Joseph%20Fowler.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZubDVqVIuSMAgMR-BL1tBXrFVAO0K8D_WkJxW_5eS0coi6pu29HfcrLoivYIR5pUGNnKQpOoJeW9iHrLDeYlAFlfaGKXOE_Dv2HDaoM8bTAFp4Qt9f7gHAE_xbetIbp2b2s2UdUa9i3ErSqocvfJhMYwegvVVfTdsBUI61Ac2O94Fnke7U6U2mEEy/w140-h187/67C2C72B-8EA6-4731-85B7-EBF7F456FA75%20-%20Joseph%20Fowler.jpeg" width="140" /></a></div><b>Name: </b>Joseph Fowler<div><br /></div><div><b>Age: </b>46</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Athletic Bonafides: </b>Played DIII football. Coached college football. Ran some 1/2 marathons. Currently does at least 1 push up a day, if the weather is clear.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Charity: </b><a href="https://rmhc.org/" target="_blank">Ronald McDonald House</a><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxeb2iXMuaqnFFa6JTU1o2qoTl9YzbQs-txw3Bl0ttGZpxjHawiSJXpKsxYa2D7I96ByTiI5CtkUQcQ1fbBJwsHoXPT7hZGqqAU4u3iW0b2jT_8QW7SQUcA75MbimCJZdorhwkcnvh2rKMpHmOdLS2PDMPWa9VKyH3c8Nv2PzKa-lTSaMeYuwT6Jf/s825/DougZeiglerHeadshot%20-%20Doug%20Zeigler.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="825" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxeb2iXMuaqnFFa6JTU1o2qoTl9YzbQs-txw3Bl0ttGZpxjHawiSJXpKsxYa2D7I96ByTiI5CtkUQcQ1fbBJwsHoXPT7hZGqqAU4u3iW0b2jT_8QW7SQUcA75MbimCJZdorhwkcnvh2rKMpHmOdLS2PDMPWa9VKyH3c8Nv2PzKa-lTSaMeYuwT6Jf/w138-h138/DougZeiglerHeadshot%20-%20Doug%20Zeigler.jpg" width="138" /></a></div><div><b>Name: </b>Doug Zeigler<div><br /></div><div><b>Age: </b>50</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Athletic Bonafides: </b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.19999998807907104px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: times;">Played basketball in HS and college. Have been drinking beer for 32 years. Shows how committed I am.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Charity: </b><a href="https://www.thetrevorproject.org/" target="_blank">The Trevor Project</a></div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZRmjjUhLJQZkEFB_sgF46dfpUHTy9XAelidTAcpDraiDsUeNm9oCf1IYePiRDLFQcyIrpst1TE7Hsh-eNbq1nGg1JMqqx65TorB1PICGAARXBUuBYEDjM9UKmA99i-rHWWNKpkpJyCYafWKhcr-bRj_RYvd-U4hIEwhAJ1vmW9Xx8atKrjXeAxg2/s2592/tacoMan%20-%20Andy%20Kleiber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZRmjjUhLJQZkEFB_sgF46dfpUHTy9XAelidTAcpDraiDsUeNm9oCf1IYePiRDLFQcyIrpst1TE7Hsh-eNbq1nGg1JMqqx65TorB1PICGAARXBUuBYEDjM9UKmA99i-rHWWNKpkpJyCYafWKhcr-bRj_RYvd-U4hIEwhAJ1vmW9Xx8atKrjXeAxg2/w134-h179/tacoMan%20-%20Andy%20Kleiber.jpg" width="134" /></a></div><b><div><b><br /></b></div>Name: </b>Andy Kleiber<div><br /></div><div><b>Age: </b>53</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Athletic Bonafides: </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; letter-spacing: 0.2px; orphans: 2; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: times;">Ran a ton in 2021 - now mainly biking and Ultimate Disc</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Charity: </b><a href="https://urbancompassionproject.org/" target="_blank">Urban Parks Clean Up</a></div><div><br /></div>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-84551832920285011262022-05-19T19:44:00.003-04:002022-05-20T17:32:42.394-04:00Mentored by My Trans Kids<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuK-H15xMiUUnEkMKeiPJbuQ_TREVdv29jdS0YmW1w5UoQh48Di41-uvE5FYuLZ38D8i_1xDcFhq2AUDFBLH4Na-_8u7g0JFlE7_2BavUo3yoseKnMvmIwIBfhL3StA1d5M6oD7DIjt-0lhnltzXEUvn-mNlUPoVzdW1h0Cnf6bQZTD5P80okwQ8c/s4032/IMG_1299.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A child with a shaved head wearing a fuzzy blue parka. On the zipper of the parka is a heart shaped rainbow key chain that reads: Queer A F" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuK-H15xMiUUnEkMKeiPJbuQ_TREVdv29jdS0YmW1w5UoQh48Di41-uvE5FYuLZ38D8i_1xDcFhq2AUDFBLH4Na-_8u7g0JFlE7_2BavUo3yoseKnMvmIwIBfhL3StA1d5M6oD7DIjt-0lhnltzXEUvn-mNlUPoVzdW1h0Cnf6bQZTD5P80okwQ8c/w276-h368/IMG_1299.jpg" title="Queer AF" width="276" /></a></div><br /> <span> </span>The other day someone referred to me as a trans-rights activist. I was struck by it because the label really doesn't fit. I can't be an activist, I don't <i>do</i> anything. Mostly, I'm an advocate for my kids. I write blog posts. I talk about them on podcasts. I tweet. A lot. I take little direct action other than signing petitions and voting. None of that makes me an activist. Being an activist means occasionally being a leader. I'm not a leader. I can't be a leader in the fight for transgender rights because I am not transgender. Leadership has to come from within. I'm not an activist, I'm an ally. Even then, my ally-ship starts with my kids and extends out from there. Being an ally, in the philosophy I follow, means being ready to do what is asked and amplifying the message chosen by the real leaders of the movement. It's being ready to respond when called upon to act, not to have a hand in deciding what those actions are. I do my best to listen to what transgender people say about themselves and to what they want me to say about them. Then I do my best to bring that message with me. That's what being an ally means to me.<p></p><p><span> </span>My kids on the other hand, are leaders. Not on a large scale, but they are leaders. Each has taken up advocating for expanded all gender bathrooms at their schools. Lou did it with a petition. Ryu brought the issue to us and helped us communicate with the administration. My kids are happy to talk to anyone who will listen about who they are and what they want from society. I look forward to watching what they accomplish as they get older and start to find their audiences and avenues for engagement. Most of all, right now my kids are leaders and mentors to me. I look to them for guidance on what trans kids want. I look to them when wondering what I should say about a given issue. I use other sources as well, but the kids are right there with me everyday. So I listen to them. </p><p><span> </span>Something they don't know, at least not as well as I do, is how much they've been mentoring me through how they live. I've never questioned my gender. Not in any real sense since I was very young, but I do have a memory it and I sometimes wonder who I'd be if I'd grown up now instead of then. I'll relate an anecdote that won't capture the whole of that feeling, but it's the best I can do 40+ years later. When I was around three years old, I had a very strong desire to be a glamorous woman in a ball gown like Vanna White. I didn't feel like I was the wrong gender. It wasn't something I thought about most of the time. But in very quiet moments, when I was alone, I would think about becoming a glamorous lady. I had one of those tool bench play set with the big, chunky, plastic screws and bolts. I hid the multi-colored hardware behind my bed and after I was tucked in, I would put them on the ends of my fingers to pretend I had long painted nails. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTEVNkrs4WkBhv-uuRK8EUQQgqD0jOlthz0J0D2_a_49ZfYNXjsLnWNbLrzWQFmvGfBhcVydSTmJ5IsXdZexJSl2sLC77Hy73nB3Y0_NqlLTkRRlei5dv1qk_QkIIc3f7l41zprMp0Y_rQLVU8_-WVjcrQbpYOpOZBxPewC-jSpEb_6uHNgTPAhhM/s2904/IMG_1378%202.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="A pair of legs wearing knee length bright yellow socks and white sneakers" border="0" data-original-height="2629" data-original-width="2904" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTEVNkrs4WkBhv-uuRK8EUQQgqD0jOlthz0J0D2_a_49ZfYNXjsLnWNbLrzWQFmvGfBhcVydSTmJ5IsXdZexJSl2sLC77Hy73nB3Y0_NqlLTkRRlei5dv1qk_QkIIc3f7l41zprMp0Y_rQLVU8_-WVjcrQbpYOpOZBxPewC-jSpEb_6uHNgTPAhhM/w235-h213/IMG_1378%202.jpg" width="235" /></a></div><span> </span>I don't know how long I carried on with that. Thinking back as an adult, I can see that I only did these things when I was assuredly alone because I knew it wasn't acceptable. For the rest of my childhood, I wanted to express myself and engage in activities coded as feminine. In gymnastics, I wanted to do floor routines and the uneven bars. Not because they were for girls, but because they seemed the most fun. I didn't want to wear "girls" clothes, but I did want to accessorize and modify my clothes in ways that only girls were allowed to do. I liked wearing long socks up to my knees. I kept wishing I could paint my nails until about third grade. Still, I always felt comfortable as a cis male. I just didn't want to be the kind of cis male I was allowed to be.<span> </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXKiZWmB_v6u6Wc2PP9NX5hOeREW0DyuhMC8tJN2IpeIjawnXVkiCvydXiPE_fvqodVzaz7Xd2855eEdp75Kks7f58d2VR6w7kg5yjT6VwE9akSt0jCcpRZti3ipCVVkczC0tPvZuo2afLunWT8mjDbaa6rw6NdKdjOKHMFhV6yxfRswdUawjRF12/s3088/64428013740__556EBD73-1029-4276-852F-B33F481C314A.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Berto, a 45 year old man wearing a pink shirt and showing off matching pink nails. He is smiling." border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXKiZWmB_v6u6Wc2PP9NX5hOeREW0DyuhMC8tJN2IpeIjawnXVkiCvydXiPE_fvqodVzaz7Xd2855eEdp75Kks7f58d2VR6w7kg5yjT6VwE9akSt0jCcpRZti3ipCVVkczC0tPvZuo2afLunWT8mjDbaa6rw6NdKdjOKHMFhV6yxfRswdUawjRF12/w166-h222/64428013740__556EBD73-1029-4276-852F-B33F481C314A.jpg" width="166" /></a></div><span> </span><div><span> </span>I don't know exactly what my kids feel about their gender. All I have are the clues and artifacts they can express to me using something as imperfect as language. I wonder if what I felt then is at all similar to what they feel now. I wonder who I'd be if I were growing up now, in an environment where I could wear what I want, how I want and not be told, no. My kids are mentors to me. They have no fear expressing themselves through clothes, activities or words. Watching them has nudged me to accept and indulge in some of the things I've always wanted, but was too afraid try. It's still hard, but I sometimes paint my nails. I wear long socks up my knees just for the feel of it and because I like how my calves look. If I could still grow hair, I'd probably grow it out long and have all kinds of fun with it like I did in high school, when I could get away with it just being a punk-grunge, skater thing. <p></p><p><br /></p><p>So yeah, I'm not a trans-rights activist. I'm not leader. Very much the opposite. I'm a follower, and I'm letting my kids lead the way.</p></div>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-85819024928028368092021-10-21T15:52:00.001-04:002021-10-21T19:19:32.939-04:00Review: 100 Questions for Dad<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W63_LrlDamE/YXHEDP4s3LI/AAAAAAAADvM/4rPeTiFWvjI4t82QLM7XGTnQYXJoAkuEACLcBGAsYHQ/s488/100QuestionsforDad.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="488" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W63_LrlDamE/YXHEDP4s3LI/AAAAAAAADvM/4rPeTiFWvjI4t82QLM7XGTnQYXJoAkuEACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/100QuestionsforDad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Apparently, <a href="https://owtk.com" target="_blank">Jeff Bogle</a>'s dad is the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. At least, that was my first thought when I read the first sentence of the introduction to his book, 100 Questions for Dad. "My dad would often talk about playing basketball on the streets of West Philadelphia," should be enough to send any 90s kid into the second stanza of the classic Will Smith <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVH40cnJ0us" target="_blank">theme song</a>. The rest of the introduction will make you feel guilty for humming that tune, though. It's a short and touching story about wishing he'd had a better record of his dad's stories, the ones he'd heard growing up about his dad growing up. <p></p><p><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&sxsrf=AOaemvJypcAtNXexaYu778GZwEj4j2hgfg:1634843837461&q=100+Questions+for+Dad:+A+Journal+to+Inspire+Reflection+and+Connection+Jeff+Bogle&stick=H4sIAAAAAAAAAOPgE-LVT9c3NEwzNouvzEopV4JwCy0qjbPjM4y1pLKTrfST8vOz9RNLSzLyi6xA7GKF_LycykWsAYYGBgqBpanFJZn5ecUKaflFCi6JKVYKjgpe-aVFeYk5CiX5Cp55xQWZRakKQalpOanJIJUKiXkpCs75eXlQrldqWpqCU356TuoOVkYAil0HI5IAAAA&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjGksfxm9zzAhVNUt8KHcU-A6IQmxMoAXoECDEQAw&biw=1436&bih=813&dpr=2" target="_blank">100 Questions for Dad</a> is a guided journal, divided into five sections that aims to provide families with that record. The book starts with the premise that dads are super heroes, and this is a chance for them to record their origin stories. Each section asks the story teller prompts on different topics. From, The Early Years, to Love and Friendship, to Being a Dad, the journal asks fathers to do something they haven't traditionally done, "be as candid as possible and allow yourself the opportunity to be vulnerable."</p><p>The book is interspersed with quotes from authors and notable people, men and women, about their own fathers. Each prompt takes up one page and allows roughly twelve lines to write on. It's nice that the writer is encouraged to keep things succinct. If you pick one up, you won't feel overwhelmed, or struggle to fill a page. The goal is to encourage people to see the value of story telling, in digestible chunks that go deeper than the anecdotes dad tells in the car on long trips.</p><p>One of the striking things about the book is its undeclared but noticeable commitment to inclusion. Bogle said on his <a href="https://dad2.com/2021/10/04/episode-94-tales-from-the-boom-boom-zoom-room/" target="_blank">Dad 2.0 podcast</a> that the book emphasizes, "the importance of father figures, the way I incorporated pronouns, it's for anyone who associates with being a father in any way and what that looks like in your life." The prompts are broad enough that no matter what your life experience or interests, you'll be able to answer every one. For example, Bogle, who has been a music reviewer among his many gigs, wanted to include a question about music. The publisher came back and asked about father figures who may be Deaf or hard of hearing or for whom music isn't otherwise an important part of their lives. Conversations like that led to an effort for the book to open up space for father figures who may use a variety of pronouns or encompass intersectional identities. The music question was changed to a more universal prompt about art in any medium. </p><p>I'm personally excited to continue writing in 100 Questions for Dad and eventually leaving it for my kids to read. I look forward to sharing the stories with them as I write. I look forward to gifting a copy to the dads in my life. Heck, I'd even like to gift a copy to you. Yes, you. If you'd like to win copy of 100 Questions for Dad, just follow the Raffle instructions below. Then go tell your origin story!</p>
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="5ac411c34" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/5ac411c34/" id="rcwidget_btlznpqa" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-11881212161672831732021-08-04T17:56:00.001-04:002021-08-10T14:25:55.574-04:00Micro-Investing: A Better Way to Back a New Business<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qyXAtCyKXhA/YQsKmNRyMEI/AAAAAAAADqU/htArxOkSu1Inz4YSpjg8aWPEzvChIjFygCLcBGAsYHQ/s851/182280532_483854496395919_5647594280154939679_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="224" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qyXAtCyKXhA/YQsKmNRyMEI/AAAAAAAADqU/htArxOkSu1Inz4YSpjg8aWPEzvChIjFygCLcBGAsYHQ/w605-h224/182280532_483854496395919_5647594280154939679_n.jpg" width="605" /></a></div><br />You guys! It's here! A real way to back a business you believing is finally here!<p></p><p>Ok, it's probably been here for a while and I just didn't know it, but I' excited to know about it now and I am going to blab about this for a minute. </p><p>Back in 2018, I wrote a post about <a href="https://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2018/02/stop-panhandling-online.html" target="_blank">online panhandling</a>. It has gone too far and what was being offered was simply not enough. Since then, I've seen more and more disappointing crowd funding offers. Some were for products I really wanted. Then, when I read the fine print of the campaign, it turned out I wouldn't be buying the product at all. I'd be buying a chance to pre-order one if it were manufactured. Dude, no. Here's how that 2018 post closed:</p><blockquote><p>"So I'm begging you. Please. Stop panhandling online.<br /><br />If you're out of work, I'm probably out of work too. You're kid's school needs whatever? So does mine. Someone suddenly died, or was diagnosed with a terrible disease? OK, you got me. I'm in.<br /><br />And hey, for profit endeavors, how about a different model? Why not go back to what crowd funding should be? Call for investors. You need money to develop your game? You need to finish that movie? You think you can build a better mouse trap? Great! Instead of offering me a beer coozy with your logo on it, or a chance to download early, why not offer me a piece of the action? You think you need $10,000 to do your thing? Great, for my $100 I want 1% of the net profits. Maybe I'll get my money back, maybe I won't. But I'll be much more likely to bet on your idea if I'm getting more than a commemorative tote bag. My issue isn't with you asking for money, it's with what you're offering in return."</p></blockquote><p>Is it too much to ask that you fund with pre-orders? Or that you offer more than a chance to maybe buy the thing later? How did the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Personal_seat_license" target="_blank">Personal Seat License</a> model find it's way to silicone augmented cutting boards? What I really wanted was a chance to invest in a new product or business and maybe make a little money. I'm not now, nor will I ever be an angel investor or venture capitalist. I don't have that kind of scratch. Still, I'd love to be able to take a small amount of money and invest in some small businesses or new products. I want to see people succeed, and I want to see a return on my investment. Even if that return is only lunch money, I want to know that it's possible.</p><p>Which brings us to the story of Carter's BBQ.</p><p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ez6jIS1asIU/YQsKmBIMxpI/AAAAAAAADqs/OVoljd0JWoseZGC9nMuxoTqsSZLEylgkACPcBGAYYCw/s1440/157932097_445343076913728_8747784447314271275_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ez6jIS1asIU/YQsKmBIMxpI/AAAAAAAADqs/OVoljd0JWoseZGC9nMuxoTqsSZLEylgkACPcBGAYYCw/s320/157932097_445343076913728_8747784447314271275_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>I met <a href="http://darrenwcarter.com" target="_blank">Darren W. Carter</a> through the blogging community. We hung out at Dad 2.0 conferences. We have an online friendship that's similar to those I have with any of my friends who live across the country. We trash talk sports, we chat about parenting, we share in each other's endeavors. I learned a lot about Darren from his appearance on the <a href="https://dad2.com/2020/10/19/episode-53-darren-w-carter-has-burned-a-lot-of-meat/" target="_blank">Dad 2.0 Podcast</a>. He's had an interesting life and he's done a lot of good in the world. Darren is a mental health advocate, a long time foster and adoptive parent, and a champion BBQer.</p><p>I think it was about a year ago that I saw Darren post online about his BBQ sauce. He was bottling up some sauce to sell and I knew I had to acquire some. I had no idea if it was in stores or if he'd just made it in his kitchen and printed off a label, I wanted it. The truth was something in between. If you <a href="https://www.instagram.com/aninterdisciplinarylife/" target="_blank">follow me on IG</a>, you know that we love to grill here at IDL HQ. Lou constantly asks if we can grill. We even eschewed a turkey this past Thanksgiving, instead going with a smoked duck. We use a lot of BBQ sauce. Typically, we have between three and five bottles of various BBQ sauces in the fridge. So I had to have a bottle of Carter's. Or four. </p><p>I went with four.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wFUITPIvCl0/YQsKmB46TGI/AAAAAAAADqw/AxNSkwUUPiw_l63pbyA8O5V1mNiU-CCvQCPcBGAYYCw/s1440/201800158_4236212786401145_3255128274813493838_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1436" data-original-width="1440" height="267" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wFUITPIvCl0/YQsKmB46TGI/AAAAAAAADqw/AxNSkwUUPiw_l63pbyA8O5V1mNiU-CCvQCPcBGAYYCw/w268-h267/201800158_4236212786401145_3255128274813493838_n.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>The first order came in plastic mason jars and was sealed with saran wrap. When it arrived, I fired up the grill and Carter's immediately became my kids' favorite BBQ sauce. For Lou, it's xyr favorite sauce, period. Xe puts Carters on everything. Lou even brought a bottle to a BBQ at our neighbor's house just in case xe didn't like what they had there. Then, instead of leaving it as a gift, as I suggested, Lou brought it back home. Xe couldn't bear to part with it. Once I knew it was a good product, I dubbed myself Carter's brand ambassador and started to post as much Carter's related content online as I could.<p></p><p>When those four bottles were gone, I ordered four more. This time, they came in fancy squeeze bottles with those foil safety tabs that come on all commercial squeezable condiments. I also ordered a bottle of Carter's dry rub. To my great delight, Darren included an experimental spice blend that hadn't yet come to market. Being an influencer was paying off. In the time between my first order and today, I've been hitting Darren up for grilling tips and watching the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/cartersbbq216/">videos he posts on IG</a>.</p><p>So I love this product, and I admire Darren for the man and the father he is, even if he is a Cavs fan. What happened next will surprise...no one. OK, it surprised me a little bit. <a href="https://fb.watch/7aIndaxfQY/" target="_blank">Carter's posted</a> that they had opened an account with <a href="https://app.honeycombcredit.com/projects/12572-Carter-s-BBQ?fbclid=IwAR2wm1ZUh_WfBIz_6aCXYkcuavy72Q1mo8VjhYfazo008SjV0KS1Cz7SjY4" target="_blank">Honeycomb Credit and they were soliciting investors</a>. Like, real investors who could help grow the business and earn a return. It was exactly what I had been looking for, a chance to invest and help out a friend and a business that I believe in. I talked to T, and we agreed to invest. Yes, I could lose money. I'm not investing an amount that would break me if it doesn't work out. But whether it works or not (I think it will), I'm investing in a small Black owned business, and that makes me happy. It makes me way happier than sending money into a Kickstarter void for a product I might like but may never get, made by people I don't know. I hope more people will see the Carter's Story and take a chance on investing in them. If investing isn't for you, <a href="https://cartersbbqonline.com/shop/" target="_blank">check out their website and buy some sauce</a>.</p><p>Here's more on the Carter's investment story.</p>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BaKFhgFcFVo" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-24436206104547600992021-07-05T19:58:00.003-04:002021-07-05T21:10:56.325-04:00The Ref is Called, "Sir" and Other Ways to Avoid Misgendering People<p><br /></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IAxRDV5FQaE/YOOYxUr5AwI/AAAAAAAADng/_1kLsboKcxEEpwcLZPBksOSL_8zS6GNwACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_5047.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="389" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IAxRDV5FQaE/YOOYxUr5AwI/AAAAAAAADng/_1kLsboKcxEEpwcLZPBksOSL_8zS6GNwACLcBGAsYHQ/w518-h389/IMG_5047.jpg" width="518" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ryu works the sideline.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Being misgendered can suck. I only have a tiny amount of firsthand experience with this, but it's been over a long period of time. People often think that I am a woman when I am on the phone. It's been going on my whole life. I used to think it was because I was kid, but it still happens. It's only really bothered me a couple times and it doesn't come close to being something that causes me to produce more than an unseen eye roll before I correct the person. In this way, I am privileged. Since I've never had to wrestle with society failing to accept my gender, being mistaken for a woman doesn't have the same effect on me that it can have for other people. <p></p><p>Assuming a person's gender isn't something I thought much about until a few years ago. For a long time, I was content to go with whatever I picked up from my perception of a person's markers of <a href="https://genderspectrum.org/articles/understanding-gender" target="_blank">gender expression</a>. These were cues like hair cuts, clothes and accessories. As I've grown in my understanding of gender and the difference between identity and expression, I know that while they are often linked, expression isn't enough to go on. <a href="https://citydadsgroup.com/parenting-transgender-trans-child/" target="_blank">I saw this</a> with my middle child, who came out as non-binary, but hasn't changed much about their personal style. My oldest, also non-binary, hasn't changed their style much either. Both are often misgendered, but in different ways and with different results. </p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BmOrT110qNw/YOOYwgMwGXI/AAAAAAAADn8/BPj8CQbveSkd_Jq8KchHjy8cvNO33tJoACPcBGAYYCw/s651/3F6B3EF7-C6F2-4A0F-8A24-5BECC86E65FE.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="651" height="226" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BmOrT110qNw/YOOYwgMwGXI/AAAAAAAADn8/BPj8CQbveSkd_Jq8KchHjy8cvNO33tJoACPcBGAYYCw/w230-h226/3F6B3EF7-C6F2-4A0F-8A24-5BECC86E65FE.JPG" title="Lou hunting a tackle" width="230" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Lou hunting a tackle</span></td></tr></tbody></table>Most misgendering for my kids comes on the rugby field. Kids play co-ed until middle school, so it's common to have boys and girls and non-binary kids all on teams together. I'll be honest, it can be hard at times to tell who's who. The kids range in age from 7-10 in U10s and from 10-12 in U12 and if you know about kids, you know that the range of sizes and features as kids grow is staggering. Add in the fact that they're all in uniforms and, good luck. Lou's rugby nickname is "Crash," which removes one more societal marker for gender. Even Lou's real name, being non-anglo and uncommon even for its culture of origin, doesn't provide any help for most people. Lou is sporting a door side-shave that has become a common hair style for people of all genders. So Lou is called a girl about 60/40, and both assumptions are wrong.<p></p><p>Ryu is another story. Being our child, Ryu is very slight of build. Their voice is still child-like, having not yet differentiated. They have grown a beautiful golden mane that they wear in a pony tail when playing or refereeing. When in uniform, this is usually the only typical gender marker that people pick up on. The other thing is that when we ref, we often wear pink, which has become <a href="https://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2015/04/pink-is-new-authority.html" target="_blank">popular for rugby referees</a> in the last decade. I've often had coaches tell me how great it is that my daughter is out officiating games. When I tell them, that's not my daughter, they pivot to how great it is that her parents let her come out with me. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-co05zDfHuio/YOOYw_kFMRI/AAAAAAAADoI/DVx2OzKfOZ0gPET11yAUNPC6iu5CJwYkQCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/IMG_4084.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="243" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-co05zDfHuio/YOOYw_kFMRI/AAAAAAAADoI/DVx2OzKfOZ0gPET11yAUNPC6iu5CJwYkQCPcBGAYYCw/w182-h243/IMG_4084.JPG" width="182" /></a></div>I need to find a better way to express this concept.<p></p><p>This came to a head a couple weeks when Ryu was working the sideline at a game. I was working the opposite line, so I didn't hear anything about it until later. When we got home, Ryu reported that the coaches on the far sideline spent the entire game referring to Ryu as, "sweetheart." Ew. First off, don't call anyone you're not already in some kind of relationship with, sweetheart. Gross. Second, don't use a diminutive when talking to a match official. Especially a kid and especially if you think they're a girl. I know it may be hard to have to refer to a child in a way that defer's to their authority over you based on the position they have taken in the match, but you still have to do it. Thirdly, don't assume someone's gender. Finally, rugby has already set up a way to avoid this, the referee is called, "sir."</p><p>The term, sir is use to address all match officials in the sport. It doesn't matter their age. It doesn't matter their gender. It doesn't matter if they are in the middle of the field or on the sideline. The referee is called, sir. This idea is so ingrained in rugby culture that in parts of the mid-west the word is used not only as a title, but as a noun and a verb. As in, "Are you the sir?" and "Are you sirring for us today?" It essentially replaces the word "referee" in some dialects. When called, ma'am, female referees will sometimes correct it to, sir. Here's what I sent to the coaching staff:</p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">"<span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">I'm writing to follow up on one thing and I hope that it comes across in text as being friendly and gentle, which is how I intend it. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">Could you please remind your coaches to refrain from referring to any referee or AR as, "sweetheart?" All match officials, regardless of gender can be addressed as, "</span><span class="il" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">sir</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">." I know for sure that there was no offense intended from the staff. I am certain it was an endearment and not an insult. However, we should generally practice not using diminutives with match officials. More specifically because in this case the term used, generally applied to girls, misgendered the AR. The AR wasn't deeply offended, but did feel uncomfortable and didn't feel able to correct the coaches during the match while also attending to their AR duties. </span></span></p><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">I know that you all have your hearts and minds in the right place, I know you're all top notch. I did want to get us all thinking about how we interact with officials and keeping to the same standards even when the officials are children.</span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">I am always happy to have more conversation about this or any other aspect of officiating. Thank you again for coming down and thank you for all of the energy and effort you've put into helping develop referees this season."</span></div></blockquote><p>The coaches replied and said everything you'd hope one would say in this situation. As time goes on, hopefully the presence of my kids in the league will help bring awareness and maybe even change habits. The thing is, habits are hard to break, even for those of us who think we're thinking about this stuff.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f1B_bhtFXkM/YOObcdsG8zI/AAAAAAAADoY/6FLuVX9k4AMQd8BeW_I93namahzs4ypNwCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/77324314_10157784310999889_3451378407022002176_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f1B_bhtFXkM/YOObcdsG8zI/AAAAAAAADoY/6FLuVX9k4AMQd8BeW_I93namahzs4ypNwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/77324314_10157784310999889_3451378407022002176_n.jpg" /></a></div>I made a mistake recently that showed me how much work I still need to do. We got a new kid at rugby a couple weeks ago, just coming up to us from U8. Slight build, cool undercut hair style, gender neutral name. The second practice the kid was at, they ended up behind me as I was jogging backward and I bowled them over. Another player asked what happened and I said, "He was behind me and I didn't see him and I knocked him over." That's when the other coach started shout-whispering, "<i>she." </i>It took me couple times to figure out what he was saying. "<i>She. SHE." </i>he shout whispered couple more times. Aw crap, I had just misgendered the new kid in nearly the same way it happens to Lou, and for almost the same reasons. I definitely wanted to dig a hole in the turf and bury myself. <p></p><p>I did what most people do. I took the available evidence and made what I thought was a reasonable assumption based on how I think the world is ordered. Except, I'm supposed to know better. I really thought I was past using my perception of gender expression and context to assume a person's gender. I'm not. Even after having conversations with my kids and my wife about paling everyone, they until you know for sure, I made this mistake. This was even after another embarrassing moment that happened when I was picking up my kids on the last day at transgender kids summer camp. I signed one of the kids out and said to the counselor, who I'd had some rough patches with during the week, "Thanks, man." I was mortified. I sincerely do not know this person's gender and it doesn't even matter what their gender is, this is the one place where I really needed to be more careful. "Hey, I didn't mean, man like...it's...I say it to everyone. I didn't mean..." The counselor cut me off/saved me, "It's cool. I get it." Thanks, kid. You're very kind. </p><p>So how can you or I or anyone avoid this? Here are my ideas.</p><p>-Use people's names if you don't know their gender. Read through this post again, there are places where I use names instead of other pronouns. It takes practice and can feel awkward, but it's a good trick and useful for when you're still getting used to someone's pronouns.</p><p>-If you can't smoothly insert their name, or don't know it, use, "they." Yes, for some people, they is their pronoun and for others it isn't and maybe someone who uses something else will take offense. But I think most people will get your intent, see it as a positive and offer you their pronouns. If singular they seems confusing to you, think of the lost item example to see how you probably already use it: "Hey, someone left their sweatshirt here. We should find out who they are and get it back to them." You don't actually say, "Someone left his or her sweatshirt, we should get it back to him or her."</p><p>-Normalize including your pronouns. Even if you're cis, let people know your pronouns. It can function as an invitation for others to also disclose their pronouns and know that they're with someone safe. </p><p>-Don't call people, "man." It's reflexive for those of us who grew up wanting to emulate The Fonz, but its time has passed. It's a hard habit to break, but just break it. A lot of people won't care, but I don't want to be the guy who reawakened someone's trauma with an offhand turn of phrase I cold just as well not say.</p><p>-Remember that most things you say could be said just as well without a gender tag. "Excuse me, miss." Could just be "Excuse me." "Hello, sweetheart," could just be "Hello." "Your son or daughter," could just be "your child." It's really not hard to just stop talking before you say the gendered part.</p><p>Finally, don't let yourself off the hook, but don't beat yourself up. I'm raising these transgender kids, going to workshops, spending time and effort to be the best ally I can be and I still make mistakes. I don't take them lightly. I use each one as an opportunity to remember that I can't be complacent or ever think that I'm done learning and growing. It's OK to be imperfect as long as you keep getting better.</p><p>I probably missed somethings here, so please feel free to correct me in the comments or hit me up on Twitter.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p8F8YacAHXM/YOOYzWzBhoI/AAAAAAAADoM/a0Gzefthqdob2Kq7SQXMCyZV3rSX-S8UwCPcBGAYYCw/s391/IMG_5196.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="391" height="387" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p8F8YacAHXM/YOOYzWzBhoI/AAAAAAAADoM/a0Gzefthqdob2Kq7SQXMCyZV3rSX-S8UwCPcBGAYYCw/w516-h387/IMG_5196.jpg" width="516" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ryu goes to the whistle and admonishes Lou for calling them "princess" during a match.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p> </p>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-45251778840889832362021-02-16T00:15:00.002-05:002021-02-16T00:15:29.391-05:00Podcast Episode 5: Malik from The Real World 10, 20 Years Later<div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rqWZpP71D-w/YCtUJTCS-RI/AAAAAAAADbM/aDJZNitgeoUE8gzYBWWyA0O0Ms3xnSXPgCLcBGAsYHQ/s813/IMG_4611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="813" data-original-width="750" height="428" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rqWZpP71D-w/YCtUJTCS-RI/AAAAAAAADbM/aDJZNitgeoUE8gzYBWWyA0O0Ms3xnSXPgCLcBGAsYHQ/w395-h428/IMG_4611.jpg" width="395" /></a></div><br />I'm a child of the 80s who came of age in the 90s, so it goes without saying that I was obsessed with Mtv. Even in the years before we had cable, I was hooked on it. Every time we went to a house that had cable, I wanted to watch music videos and VJs and music news and Remote Control. This was a boon to my mom because if she took me to a grown up dinner party or some other boring thing, she knew there was a chance I'd sit there watching Dire Straits or Duran Duran for hours.</div><div><br /></div><div>My freshman year of high school, Mtv helped pioneer reality television, airing The Real World in 1991. I watch every episode twice trying to keep up with the network's seemingly random schedule. I loved it. It was weird and contrived but also somehow pure. That lasted about three seasons, before they found ways to push the drama and diminish the reality. Some time after Real World 3 in San Francisco, I stopped watching. Until 2001.</div><div><br /></div><div>For the tenth anniversary of the show, the production headed back to New York and featured a cast member from Berkeley, Ca, Malik Cooper. Malik is one of my best friends and I'll be honest, I was jealous. I had harbored a dream of being on the show back when I was too young to do it, then given up the dream when the show lost its tenuous grip on "reality." Still, when I heard he was going, I was a little bitter.</div><div><br /></div><div>Despite that, I watched every episode I could, considering I didn't have cable. My mom taped the episodes and sent them to me in L.A. where I watched them on my 12-inch TV/VCR all-in-one unit. Fast forward to Christmas break 2020, the season for doing cleaning and organizing projects. I decided to take one more pyrrhic stab at organizing the LEGO bricks in Ryu's room, but I wanted something to watch. The only media device there is an upgraded 32-inch TV/VCR all-in-one. I knew what had to be done, a full Real World season 10 re-watch, with Ryu at my side for most of it. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I didn't expect when I slid that tape in, is that many of the themes of the show were still relevant today. In some ways, that season of the show was more relevant in the winter of 2020 than it was at any time since it aired. The central themes are conversations about race, especially as viewed by people who grew up in different parts of the country. Another theme is gender and gender norms. Watching with my mixed race, transgender kid brought up a lot of interesting questions and conversations. The more I watched, the more I knew I wanted to talk to Malik about what he remembers and what's changed or stayed immutable over the last twenty years. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I called him up and we recorded this episode of the podcast. In it, we talk about race, class, gender and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Miz" target="_blank">The Miz</a>. We talk about his new life as a dad and how to manage all these damn LEGO bricks. We also get to the bottom of an old controversy, what exactly did Malik say about being the only one to go to college?</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe frameborder="0" height="102px" scrolling="no" src="https://anchor.fm/aninterdisciplinarylife/embed/episodes/Talking-The-Real-World-10--20-Years-Later-with-Malik-Cooper-epndhb/a-a4ggck0" width="400px"></iframe></div>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-33815104731344241582020-09-07T19:33:00.001-04:002020-09-07T19:35:12.722-04:00Renaming Berkeley Schools with a Local Focus: A Case for "Carolyn Adams Elementary"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lk73lA62eeo/X1a-8Mk-OtI/AAAAAAAADQU/Hr5Dzaqu3U85EUBK1H0WCtqy-D83YXK6wCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_3841%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1159" data-original-width="2048" height="354" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lk73lA62eeo/X1a-8Mk-OtI/AAAAAAAADQU/Hr5Dzaqu3U85EUBK1H0WCtqy-D83YXK6wCLcBGAsYHQ/w625-h354/IMG_3841%2B2.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><br />We are in a period of national awakening. I don't need to recap the state of the world for you right now. If you're reading this, you know how to spell "interdisciplinary," so I trust that you're up on current events. OK, just incase, heres the scoop: COVID-19, Democracy on the precipice, California on fire and the most widespread movement for social justice since the 1960s. Welcome to 2020. <p></p><p>I wasn't alive in the '60s. I grew up listening to my mom's stories of her adolescence in Berkeley, at the center of the free speech movement. I spent a good part of middle school listening to her old psychedelic rock LPs and studying the civil rights movement, Angela Davis and the Black Panthers, feeling like I had missed out on an period of change so monumental, we'd never see or need its like again. Through the incremental ebb and flow of the '80s and '90s, it seemed like the slow arc of the universe was indeed bending towards justice. </p><p>Then there was Ferguson. Then it was 2016. You know the rest. Hate crimes on the rise. Extreme division between Right and Left with a nearly as wide chasm between Left and Far Left. Then George Floyd. </p><p>I won't say that anything good comes from murder. Martyrs are good for history, but martyrdom sucks for the martyr and their friends, family and community. George Floyd's murder has led to movements as progressive as defunding the police, ripping down of confederate monuments and widespread moves to change the names of buildings and institutions that honor slave owners or secessionists. </p><p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VO4DAbwVKE4/X0QGDmGUDHI/AAAAAAAADN8/CQJ6CVKlQnQ2FhiHC5UZELvMBAxYyryxQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2026/NameCriteriaBUSD.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1122" data-original-width="2026" height="226" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VO4DAbwVKE4/X0QGDmGUDHI/AAAAAAAADN8/CQJ6CVKlQnQ2FhiHC5UZELvMBAxYyryxQCLcBGAsYHQ/w410-h226/NameCriteriaBUSD.jpeg" width="410" /></a>Here in Berkeley, the school board has announced that the district will change the names of two schools, Jefferson and Washington Elementary Schools. As a Washington alumnus, I support the move to change the name of the school. We recently changed a school named for Joseph LeConte, to honor Sylvia Mendez who was instrumental in the movement to integrate schools in California. Before that, we renamed Columbus for Rosa Parks and Garfield Jr High became Martin Luther King. No one here would argue that naming schools for these leaders was a poor choice. Naming buildings and institutions for people whose primary work ended up being on a national or statewide scale is fine. It means we can usually settle on something that most people agree on, and is generally unassailable in the current climate. It's also kind of generic. There are three schools named for Dr. King in the Bay Area. Rosa Parks and almost any nationally recognized figure have schools or other institutions named for them from coast to coast. These are beloved national and state icons, but as we look towards the near future and renaming another school, I would like to propose a different lens through which we select our honoree. </p><p>I am fiercely loyal to my hometown and to the people who live and work here. I was inspired by the decision to rename a portion of Shattuck Ave. after Kala Bagai, a South Asian woman who was driven from her home in South Berkeley by racist neighbors in 1915. Bagai's story resonates with me. My mother was <a href="http://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2015/04/how-i-became-mexican-by-chiori-santiago.html" target="_blank">brought to South Berkeley from Pakistan</a> in 1957. My family is also Asian, though unlike Bagai, my grandmother was Nisei, Japanese-American. Also unlike Bagai, my family was <i>only</i> allowed to move to South Berkeley. We have been here in one way or another ever since. What stood out for me about the naming of Kala Bagai Way is summed up well in <a href="https://www.berkeleyside.com/2020/07/22/berkeley-ca-racism-housing-discrimination-south-asian" target="_blank">this Berkeleyside story</a> from July, 2020. </p><blockquote>"[Berkeleyans] have been pushing for Bagai not for the usual reasons — because of what she accomplished in Berkeley, or because she live [sic] here a long time. She wasn’t wealthy or well-known. She didn’t win awards or hold political office — the reasons why most people get streets named after them.<br /><br />Rather, Bagai was an early immigrant from what is now Pakistan and the racism she experienced at the hands of Berkeley homeowners is a history all residents should know."</blockquote><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3hKBHxj7JLs/X05T6CsU3aI/AAAAAAAADPQ/9sximeyWQq8Bl8akiaPw8BPmgPRENcvOACLcBGAsYHQ/s1107/fullsizeoutput_4f1.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1107" data-original-width="645" height="329" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3hKBHxj7JLs/X05T6CsU3aI/AAAAAAAADPQ/9sximeyWQq8Bl8akiaPw8BPmgPRENcvOACLcBGAsYHQ/w192-h329/fullsizeoutput_4f1.jpeg" width="192" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Carolyn Miyakawa at Cal</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>When I heard that the district was planning to rename Washington, I knew who they should name it for: not someone who did their work in another state, not someone who changed lives in Southern California, but someone who lived and worked and changed lives here in Berkeley. That person is Carolyn Adams. Mrs. Adams, a second generation Japanese-American born Carolyn Miyakawa, was living in Sacramento when the Japanese military bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1942. She was sent, with her family, to the <a href="https://www.sfgate.com/bayarea/nevius/article/Reunion-bridges-time-and-war-Separated-in-WWII-2632733.php" target="_blank">Tule Lake internment camp</a>. After leaving camp for Boulder, Colorado, Mrs. Adams returned to California to attend U.C. Berkeley. She met her husband and became a teacher here in BUSD, where she taught for 31 years at Whittier, Jefferson, and, for most of her career, Washington. When she wasn't teaching, she tutored neighborhood kids, including another famous Washington: Claudell, who would go on to star athletically for Berkeley High and the Oakland A's. </p><p>Honoring Mrs. Adams would fulfill all of the district's published criteria for renaming. Her story of losing her home while being put in camp, then getting out and coming back to California to become a teacher, is inspiring and educational. Her name will endure and stand the test of time. Her name and reputation are pristine. Her story fits perfectly with BUSD's values of equity, inclusion, social justice, and diversity. The name would have strong ties to the community, history, and BUSD. I cannot think of a name that could better exemplify excellence and a right to public education than naming a school for a teacher who taught there and whose kids attended school there. Carolyn Adams is a member of a group that is underrepresented in BUSD. Berkeley does not currently have a school named for an Asian American person. Finally, the name is certainly not widely known or in use elsewhere. </p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NOLhFU1_0L8/X05UdUC8bmI/AAAAAAAADPY/8Xgp_2-9Tr4Rqmwlw0qWdkbW1s5DC7beACLcBGAsYHQ/s1280/IMG_1985%2B%25281%2529.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="1280" height="197" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NOLhFU1_0L8/X05UdUC8bmI/AAAAAAAADPY/8Xgp_2-9Tr4Rqmwlw0qWdkbW1s5DC7beACLcBGAsYHQ/w263-h197/IMG_1985%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="263" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Mrs. Adams with family at their home in Berkeley</span> </td></tr></tbody></table> I'll digress to tell my Carolyn Adams story. When I came back to Washington for third grade, I registered late and didn't have a classroom assignment. I don't know what was going on behind the scenes; maybe no one wanted me. I know that I paced the hallway outside the main office for three days. It has to be the most bored I've ever been in my life. Some time on that third day, Mrs. Adams noticed me. I remember her walking by because she seemed really tall for an Asian woman. My mom was 5'2" and my grandmother was shorter than that. I don't know how tall Mrs. Adams is, but she seemed like a superhero-sized Japanese woman, and she would become my savior. As I heard it later, she went into the office and asked who that boy was and why he wasn't in class. She asked if I was Japanese. I don't think the people in the office knew, but she insisted that I be placed in her class right away. I don't know if the part about her asking if I was Japanese is true, or something my grandmother added in. I don't think it mattered: I think she would have taken me anyway. One thing that may have played into the question is that the class that year included a kid from Japan who didn't speak much English and another kid whose family had moved from Japan a few years earlier. The three of us became fast friends, and after he moved back to Japan, Mineo and I kept up a pen pal relationship for many years. <p></p><p>I wasn't an easy kid, but Mrs. Adams never let me know that. I know it now because I'm an adult, and I'm <i>me. </i>I carry the scars of my life and can see myself with greater perspective now. When I was a student and a person still growing into who I would become, Mrs. Adams meant everything to me. She never made me feel like anything other than strong and capable and smart. She was the first person outside my family who made me feel like she truly believed in me. She was the first person in the school district who made me feel seen and valued. She had the same expectations for every student. Even as tracking and shifting standards and expectations wound their way through each iteration of the curriculum, she always believed that every kid could succeed and meet those standards if you gave them a chance and met them where they were. Whenever I felt like I couldn't make it through BUSD, I thought about how good I felt in her class and I'd remember that I could be successful. </p><p>Mrs. Adams came to my wedding even though we hadn't been in touch for years. My wife and I were recently going through things from my mom's memorial and found a card from Mrs. Adams. I don't think these things make me special. I'd be shocked if she hadn't kept up with many students over the years. After retiring, Mrs. Adams stayed dedicated to educating the next generation on speaking tours, teaching kids about Japanese internment during WWII. She worked with the Berkeley Japanese American Citizens League to establish the Carolyn Adams Family Scholarship, given to graduating high school seniors in the Bay Area. She is now living in the East Bay, enjoying time with her son and grandchildren. </p><p>A lot of ink has been spilled this year thanking teachers for their work during the pandemic. For years we have held teachers' appreciation days and given gifts at the end of the year. We both laud and lament the educators who purchase their own supplies and work long hours to make sure kids don't get left behind. Yet how many of our schools or lasting monuments honor the people who do the work within the walls? It's a fine thing to honor well-known activists or historical figures, but how can we say we value teachers and then pass over them when dedicating the buildings in which they teach? Naming a school for one of its most dedicated denizens would be an honor not only for Carolyn Adams, but for all the teachers past and present who have dedicated their lives to teaching us, our kids, and for some of us, our parents. It is time to name a Berkeley school for a Berkeley teacher: for someone who lived here, raised kids here, had an impact here. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. </p><p>When the time comes, I hope that you will join me in supporting renaming Washington as Carolyn Adams Elementary. </p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qidxn_NUlL8/X05QtKsmPiI/AAAAAAAADO0/S96OhImxwU8RCkkSQFjvmlimd_7sutl0wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1632/IMG_5796.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Six people standing on the beach with the ocean behind them. Front row left to right Mrs. Adams, older Japanese woman. Three young women. Middle aged woman. Behind them, Carolyn's son John Adams" border="0" data-original-height="1224" data-original-width="1632" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qidxn_NUlL8/X05QtKsmPiI/AAAAAAAADO0/S96OhImxwU8RCkkSQFjvmlimd_7sutl0wCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/IMG_5796.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Carolyn Adams with her son John and family.</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-42545332353339314052020-08-16T23:02:00.000-04:002020-08-16T23:02:35.121-04:00Running for Charity: Announcing the Berto 77 At Home Marathon<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ASIfX64krok/XzntkjzaA7I/AAAAAAAADMI/9SI9A1Krrm4xkPWjqnjLcwsrhOzEHsN6ACLcBGAsYHQ/s960/10356756_10152826098729889_6093223179362113545_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Berto wearing a blue jersey with a white number 14 on the back running during a rugby match being pursued by opponents in yellow jerseys" border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="408" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ASIfX64krok/XzntkjzaA7I/AAAAAAAADMI/9SI9A1Krrm4xkPWjqnjLcwsrhOzEHsN6ACLcBGAsYHQ/w615-h408/10356756_10152826098729889_6093223179362113545_n.jpg" title="I've done most of my running in cleats" width="615" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I've done most of my running in cleats</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>I'm not really a runner. I've run as part of my fitness routine over the years, but I'm not a <i>runner.</i> I know this because I've been around runners. T has run several half marathons and one full marathon. Our former roommate, Jay, used to run 50 and 100 mile ultra marathons. I've tried to keep up with them here and there over the years, but they definitely outclass me. I've always been athletic. Heck, now that extreme sports are considered sports, I guess I've always been an athlete thanks to my many years skateboarding. But even when I was running regularly, I've never been a runner. The farthest I've ever run is 13 miles while training for a marathon. On that one, my knee gave out and I had to call T to bring me home. Right after that, my mom died and I never seriously considered a marathon again, but I also never gave up on the idea. </p><p></p><p>For a long time, my idea was to go down to the local high school track around my birthday some year with a bunch of water and try to run it there. The thing is, that also always seemed like too much effort. I never know when the track is open or available. I definitely don't want to do it with people there watching. Yikes, no thank you. So, it never happened. </p><p>And then...2020.</p><p>So it's been a crap year for everyone. We were getting through it OK until I lost my steady job. So now I'm home a lot more hoping to pick up freelance work. In the meantime, I may as well chase a dream.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sQ9j23RjdiE/XznuTC24P2I/AAAAAAAADMU/zxqXs4pOvyEwO5CJTyNmRMOHIaTc7e22QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1440/116640376_3318893241466442_6260775954470796308_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1399" data-original-width="1440" height="205" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sQ9j23RjdiE/XznuTC24P2I/AAAAAAAADMU/zxqXs4pOvyEwO5CJTyNmRMOHIaTc7e22QCLcBGAsYHQ/w210-h205/116640376_3318893241466442_6260775954470796308_o.jpg" title="A casual masked run with Yo" width="210" /></a></div>I started running with Yo a couple months ago to distract xir from causing a ruckus while T tried to attend virtual church. Xe is a surprisingly enthusiastic runner for a five-year-old. Xe recently did 2+ miles with me, going around and around our block. I'd taken to running around the block some mornings before work and I knew that once around was almost exactly .34 miles. I did some quick math and figured that if I ran around my block 77 times, I'd complete a marathon.<p></p><p>77 times seems doable. For one, I'll have a great support system right there in front of my house. The kids can set me up with water and there's a bathroom that I know and trust. Second, I'll have a cheering section rooting my on every 1/3 of a mile. They can even join me on the course for a lap or two. Best of all, I'll never be more than .17 miles from home. I could blow out my knee and still crawl home if I had to. Or maybe Yo could pull me back home in the Radio Flyer. The thing is, I think I can do it. There's no time limit, I can't get kicked off the course, I'm not trying to qualify for anything. I just want to get it done so I can say I did it. </p><p>Then I had another thought...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LhGb1J4z7KM/XznutqS76MI/AAAAAAAADMc/6fVedIO62EYxISIToBoiooyj83KMinGYgCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/60573321_2372238599465249_7818920982353018880_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="210" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LhGb1J4z7KM/XznutqS76MI/AAAAAAAADMc/6fVedIO62EYxISIToBoiooyj83KMinGYgCLcBGAsYHQ/w210-h210/60573321_2372238599465249_7818920982353018880_n.jpg" title="Bay to Breakers 2019" width="210" /></a></div>Of course I was going to hype this up on the blog and social media. It's a fun, quirky idea. Maybe people will get a kick out of it. If I'm going to write about it and Tweet about it, why not try to make it bigger than myself? So I decided to do this for charity. T and the kids jumped on board and now we're all going to be running some part of it. Each member of the family has picked a cause they want to raise money for. While I am committing to running all 77 laps, the others will do as much as they can (or want). We're going to livestream the event to create engagement and so donors can track our progress in real time. So with that, the <a href="https://twitter.com/search?q=%23B77AtHome&src=typed_query" target="_blank">#B77AtHome</a> Marathon has come to be. We will run on September 27th, 2020, starting at 8:00am. You can find all the details on how to pledge on the <a href="https://go.rallyup.com/b77athome/Campaign" target="_blank">Berto 77 At Home Marathon home page</a>.<p></p>I will be running in support of the <a href="https://www.accfb.org" target="_blank">Alameda County Community Food Bank</a>. This is the charity most often suggested by my followers on social media. Food banks are being heavily utilized during the pandemic as people struggle with finding steady income. I wanted to raise money for a place that would have an immediate impact on people's lives. T has chosen the <a href="https://ellabakercenter.org">Ella Baker Center for Human Rights</a>, which works in the East Bay "to break the cycles of incarceration and poverty once and for all." Buddy will be running for <a href="https://www.thecampindigo.org/">Camp Indigo</a>, a summer camp for transgender and gender diverse youth. Lou will be supporting <a href="https://berkeleyhumane.org/">Berkeley Humane</a>, where we adopted our dog, Saracen. Yo will harken back to xir preschool walk-a-thon days in support of the Center for Early Intervention on Deafness (<a href="https://www.ceid.org/">CEID</a>), where Yo attended day care. <br /><br />So if you can donate an amount per lap (each lap is about .34 miles), please do. Or, if you'd like to come by to cheer, drive by to cheer, or maybe even join us for a socially distanced lap, please do. There will be more info at the blog <a href="https://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/">An Interdisciplinary Life</a>, on Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/BertoInPublic">@bertoinpublic</a>, and on IG: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/aninterdisciplinarylife/">@aninterdisciplinarylife</a>. We will try to live stream the day as much as possible through the event website and on Facebook Live so you can see us go.<br /><br />Thanks! <br />-Berto<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P3omdZnIZIg/XznvFy8pFFI/AAAAAAAADMo/hn9xifryTMYJmdr4kTK7EHmVVU-89p62gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1440/60386978_2372238689465240_2174811266479030272_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P3omdZnIZIg/XznvFy8pFFI/AAAAAAAADMo/hn9xifryTMYJmdr4kTK7EHmVVU-89p62gCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/60386978_2372238689465240_2174811266479030272_o.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A couple pics from when we ran Bay to Breakers<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div></div>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-57848530907790389772020-08-03T16:00:00.002-04:002020-08-03T16:01:46.789-04:00Talking to Teachers About Social Justice and Returning to School During Covid-19<iframe frameborder="0" height="102px" scrolling="no" src="https://anchor.fm/aninterdisciplinarylife/embed/episodes/Talking-to-Teachers-About-Social-Justice-and-Returning-to-School-During-Covid-19-eh8jqo/a-a2pqjah" width="400px"></iframe><div><br /></div><div>We are all concerned about what the fall semester is going to look like. We are concerned about our kids and their educational and social development. We are also worried that if kids don't go back to school, we can't go back to work. Then what? Foreclosure? Eviction? Who knows. What is clear, is that it isn't safe to reopen schools. We've already seen that camps and schools that have gone back to "normal" have seen outbreaks and re-closures.</div><div><br /></div><div>What we sometimes forget, is that teachers working from home also have kids who will be there with them. For teachers who have young kids, this means trying to work with our kids and their own. So what do teachers want, fear and expect for the coming semester?</div><div><br /></div>In this episode, I talk to three teachers about going back to school in a time of social upheaval and Covid-19. Berkeley Unified School District teachers, Leah Alcala, Michael Hammond and Shoshana O'Keefe share a unique set of perspectives, in that they teach and have kids in the same school district they themselves attended. They share their thoughts on teaching and parenting during this period of social justice awareness and Covid-19 that are applicable to parents and educators across the country.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-53083470010661827252020-07-28T15:47:00.003-04:002020-07-29T12:12:04.793-04:00Social Awareness: How much? How Soon? Too Much?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IUmSAgUXvsg/XyB5wnsJLLI/AAAAAAAADKM/T0xvY4i5dMIaIROBUeAGFBoPOiK1i8_lgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_3537.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IUmSAgUXvsg/XyB5wnsJLLI/AAAAAAAADKM/T0xvY4i5dMIaIROBUeAGFBoPOiK1i8_lgCLcBGAsYHQ/w625-h469/IMG_3537.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><br /></div>I've been reading through old posts of mine on the <a href="https://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/p/politics.html" target="_blank">topics of social justice</a> and taking action. I grew up going to protests and being politically active. My parents talked to me about the world, or at least that's what I remember. When I was in first grade, my friend and I woke up early one Saturday and hand made as many flyers as we could with a six-year-old's attention span. Then we put 8.5 x 11 "Ronald Reagan Sucks" leaflets in all the mailboxes on our block. As an adult, I would refer to this as "canvassing for Mondale."<br />
<br />
When I reached 5th grade, I really was canvassing. I spent two years working on the GE boycott with I.N.F.A.C.T. I spent two years setting up an ironing board, selling buttons, collecting signatures. I even flew out to a GE shareholders meeting in Milwaukee for a direct action. I spoke to the city council about making Oakland a nuclear free zone. I joined an environmental group that held a lot of meetings and a couple retreats and ended up hosting an arts event for kids in San Francisco, but I'm not sure we did anything for the environment.<br />
<br />
By the time I got to high school, I was burnt out on political movements. I became a typical Gen X cynic. I marched against the first Iraq war and Prop 187, but if I'm being honest, I was just happy to be ditching class. Rodney King, OJ, I stayed home. I voted. I kept myself abreast of what was going on in the world, but I didn't get <i>involved</i> outside of going to a couple protests against police brutality in 2002 where I got hit by a rubber bullet and faced down police that charged the crowd on horseback. I'll admit, that felt pretty badass.<br />
<br />
When we had kids we half made a decision to not shield them from the world or our lives. The other half is that I think we just can't help ourselves. T and I are not the quiet, reserved, stoic type of people. We talk a lot. Like, a lot. People used to remark that our kids were "so verbal." Well yeah, mom and dad never shut up so they hear a lot of words, and a great many of those words are about politics.<br />I've always struggled with finding the line between making sure my kids know about the world and about our lives so they won't be surprised by things that happen, and telling them more than their developing minds are ready to process. I don't know what the bigger trauma could be, the shock of having things happen without warning, or the anxiety of knowing too many possibilities.<div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GuS-LB4E3tI/VU6_m876T6I/AAAAAAAAAt0/JT2Dd2mbnu4P1HmTf68h3MyBZOGB-oNWwCPcBGAYYCw/s960/11150699_10153269698839889_7320493307916400306_n.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="205" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GuS-LB4E3tI/VU6_m876T6I/AAAAAAAAAt0/JT2Dd2mbnu4P1HmTf68h3MyBZOGB-oNWwCPcBGAYYCw/w154-h205/11150699_10153269698839889_7320493307916400306_n.jpg" width="154" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font size="2">Lou, 2015</font><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>We took the kids to Obama's second inauguration in 2013. We thought it was an important moment. Buddy was four, Lou was two. Neither of them remember it. The next year, we <a href="http://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2015/03/why-i-went-to-ferguson.html" target="_blank">went to Ferguson</a>. Buddy was five, Lou was three. They don't remember that either. In 2015, it was the <a href="http://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2015/05/mothers-day-of-action.html" target="_blank">Million Moms March in D.C.</a> Each of these included conversations about why we were going, the precipitating events and the desired outcomes. We talked about race. We talked about policing. I taught them the things I had been taught about how to survive encounters with law enforcement, even after I realized that their inherited genetic whiteness would make these lessons moot.<br /><br />
Then came the 2016 election and the beginning of years of having to explain new uncomfortable things to the kids about racism and sexism and homophobia and hate crimes. There were marches for women and pride and detention centers. During this, maybe bolstered by it and our discussions of marriage equality, Lou came out as transgender. If this is the one benefit of over sharing with the kids, it'll all be worth it.<br /><br />
Now it's 2020 and we're in the middle of a pandemic and a period of civil unrest. T is back to taking to the streets every night to protest. Lou is back to making protest signs. Xe has a strong sense of right and wrong and all xe wants in the world is for people to be fair. Xe thirsts for justice, which makes sense as xir survival depends on a just and fair world. So we've talked about George Floyd. Just like we talked about Tamir Rice and Sandra Bland and Trayvon Martin and Philando Castille and so many others. Lou was excited to be able to ride in the Oakland Car Caravan protest. Everything seemed fine until that night. After the kids were in bed, T commented that maybe we've told them too much. She said that Lou and Yo now hated the police and were afraid of them and were afraid for us. They were afraid the police would kill us. They were worried about T going out to protest. Not long after, Lou emerged from xir bedroom unable to sleep, wracked with anxiety over police brutality. A few weeks later, a Black Lives Matter protest passed by the busy cross street near our house. The kids wanted to go down to the corner to hold signs and show support. As the main body of the march drew closer, police officers positioned themselves to block cross traffic ahead of the marchers. They were keeping the marchers safe. When Lou saw the police blocking our street on either side of the route, xe turned pale and started to retreat back to our house. Xe was convinced the police were there to hurt people. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K7HL9AIWwJw/XyB5wXvDOJI/AAAAAAAADKs/2oPKzqn5W0MbJtwSak2PebZQwqlEUGq6wCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/IMG_3519.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K7HL9AIWwJw/XyB5wXvDOJI/AAAAAAAADKs/2oPKzqn5W0MbJtwSak2PebZQwqlEUGq6wCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_3519.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I'm wary of most police officers, but I can't bring myself to hate the police as a whole. I spent the spring of 2017 trying to become a police officer. While I acknowledge the systemic problems of policing as a whole, though I have been a victim of police violence, I just can't hate everyone who wears the uniform. This inability to hate doesn't stop me from being wary of any individual officer. I still do all the things I was taught growing up to make sure I get through police encounters alive. I support Black Lives Matter and I'm terrified of the Thin Blue Line crowd. I also don't want my kids, who by the privilege of their complexions will never need to fear a routine stop, to hate the police or fear them to point where they won't ask for help when they need it. I do want them to understand when to call the police and when to just leave things be. I want them to understand everything that calling the police really means and everything that could result. I don't want them to come to me at 25, seeing an unjust world and telling me, "Daddy, did you even know this stuff happens?" And I would have answer, "Yes." Because if I know then why wouldn't I tell them. If not to keep them safe, then to raise conscious, aware white looking secretly Latino-Asian allies?<br />
<br />It took some convincing, but Lou was persuaded to stay on the corner with us. I wanted xir to understand a couple things. First, that the police were not there to hurt people. Second, that there are things are worth standing up for, even when there's danger. I admit, that's a hard line to figure out. Whether to stand in the face of oppressive force, how much and for how long is dependent on so many factors I couldn't begin to try to explain them. I don't want T or the kids to stubbornly allow themselves to be beaten or gassed or worse. I also want them to start developing a sense for when to stay and when to leave. I want them to recognize danger rather than presume it (or on the other side, presume safety when it isn't real). I want them to be brave without being foolish. I want them to be cautious without being afraid. I want them to understand the world so they're not surprised by it. <div><br /></div><div>The thing I'm still not sure of is how much, how soon?</div></div>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-80139028976442201792020-07-12T23:45:00.002-04:002020-07-29T13:07:31.180-04:00Five People, Four Sets of Pronouns: Introducing the IDL Podcast<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ggEqJuktDf4" width="560"></iframe><br /><br /><div>Hello Friends,<div><br /></div><div>Today's post is a short one because I'm hoping you'll give a listen to my first ever podcast episode. It's an interesting one, if for no other reason than because Buddy decides it's time to start using their real name. Many of you have gotten to know me in real life, or in closer online conversations and friendships and know who the kids are. Even for others, the identities of my kids is at best, a loosely guarded secret. After all, once you start <a href="https://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2020/06/i-thought-i-wasnt-ready-october-was.html" target="_blank">doing TV interviews</a> the jig is pretty much up. Still, I have tried to afford them some shred of anonymity so that at least their peers won't find them through lazy googling. Then they signed their names on the information for the protest they organized and things have progressed from there. </div><div><br /></div><div>One of the other tipping points, and the reason I decided now was a good time to launch the podcast is that Buddy recently came to us with big news. They came out as being non-binary. It was an emotional night for us, many tears were shed in relief that Buddy was finally living out as the person they really are. As I walked Buddy to bed at the end of the evening, they looked at me and said, "Well this is blog post."</div><div><br /></div><div>I wasn't sure what to say to that. Did Buddy want it to be, or not? Did I want to write about this? I understood the comment, I write about these kinds of things. But for this, it felt like it wasn't my story to tell. As the kids grow up, they take more ownership of their identities in the world. They'll tell me to post or not post pictures I take. I've started asking them about what I can write about, and what they'd rather keep in the family. I knew I wanted Buddy's story out there. I thought it was important, not just for us, but maybe in the wider conversation on trans issues and the emergence of more trans youths. Still, I didn't feel like it was something for me to write about. Buddy's 11, they can tell this story better than I can. So I asked the kids if they wanted to do it as an interview so they could tell their stories in their own words. They both agreed, and I can't imagine a better way to launch a podcast than to talk to these two wonderful kids about a topic this personal. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, the title of this post! Right. Buddy is using they/them pronouns. Yo has decided to use xe/xir like Lou. Though we're not sure of Yo's motivation, we're going with it. T and I are using our cis gender pronouns. So we now have five people using four sets of pronouns. We're constantly correcting each other since we're all still getting used to Buddy and Yo's. It feels right. Everyone is happy. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you as always for reading, and I hope you'll give this a listen.</div><iframe frameborder="0" height="102px" scrolling="no" src="https://anchor.fm/aninterdisciplinarylife/embed" width="400px"></iframe></div>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-54213124055812892852020-07-10T17:03:00.001-04:002020-07-10T17:03:48.704-04:00My Fears and Hopes of 2016 Have Been Realized<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eVRS5nVgT2o/WCTCmL38S8I/AAAAAAAABZY/pGZsw8PHuyETDBJLt-wJoyRdlXM7Rk9ngCK4BGAsYHg/s960/14991810_10154682951724889_6806283107234901261_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="469" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eVRS5nVgT2o/WCTCmL38S8I/AAAAAAAABZY/pGZsw8PHuyETDBJLt-wJoyRdlXM7Rk9ngCK4BGAsYHg/w625-h469/14991810_10154682951724889_6806283107234901261_n.jpg" width="625" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font size="2">Our house on 11/09/2016</font><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">January, 2017 was a fraught and uncertain time in a way that seems almost quaint now. I kind of miss it. Looking back, it's like starting up a movie where you know how it's going to end, but you're watching anyway to see how they get there. I didn't exactly keep a diary of my thoughts at the time, but I did write a post about <a href="http://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2016/11/i-did-not-vote-for-first-woman.html" target="_blank">having to teach the morning after the election</a> with a bad emotional (and admittedly, physical) hangover. I also contributed to a <a href="https://dads4change.com/2017/01/hopesandfears/" target="_blank">collection of short essays</a> for <a href="https://dads4change.com/" target="_blank">Dads 4 Change</a>. The editors at D4C asked us to write about our fears and hopes for the coming presidential term. I had a lot of fears and not much hope. Here's a excerpt of what I said:</div><blockquote>"Like many Americans I worry about losing the progress made over the last eight years. I worry about the dismantling of our regulatory institutions, like the EPA, Department of Education, HUD, the SEC. I worry that this whole administration will be a boondoggle that strip mines the country for the benefit of the 1%. I’ve never had much faith in our intelligence agencies, but the new president seems intent on blinding them. Those are the concrete fears of today.</blockquote><blockquote>I hope that the Black Lives Matter sign in our yard, and seeing mommy interpreting at protests inspires my kids to avoid the apathy that cost us the last election. The one thing that could come from this is that they are turned into activists, that they feel compelled to be a part of the political process, that they never think that their vote doesn’t count. I cling to the idea that they will be the ones to help drag the country back out into the light."</blockquote><div>You can read through the piece and those written by other dads and see that none of us were off base. What we feared came to pass. The country is divided. Hate crime has been on a steady rise. Kids are in cages. Intelligence and watch dog agencies have been dismantled. The country has erupted in protests over police brutality. There's also some kind of contagion loose, but I haven't had time to read up on that one. 2020 has seen all the sins of "but her emails," and over indulgent faith in polling come to a head. There isn't a single worry we had that hasn't become a reality in one way or another. It's numbing and enraging all at once.</div><div><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xnUxlv-iAO4/VQyBvgS7FpI/AAAAAAAAAdY/OtmSQckx4cIXOif_k56inIilZ1ef2h_6gCK4BGAsYHg/s2048/photo%2B3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="205" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xnUxlv-iAO4/VQyBvgS7FpI/AAAAAAAAAdY/OtmSQckx4cIXOif_k56inIilZ1ef2h_6gCK4BGAsYHg/w154-h205/photo%2B3.JPG" width="154" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font size="2">Lou in Ferguson (2014)</font><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div>The thing is, as we enter the latter half of what could be the last year of this particular madness, the hope has begun to manifest as well. T has continued to march. When the George Floyd protests took off, T was out there every night. She believed that she needed to put herself out there as a white body on the front lines to face down the police who might do harm to BIPOC protestors. Her aim was to shield them and I admired her even as I feared for her safety. They needed her, she needed to be there in that way, but we need her too. I need her to make it home. </div><div><br /></div><div>Seeing her example has also inspired the kids. They want to march. They make signs. They talk to us about justice. We've had a couple large marches go past our house. The kids were desperate to join in. I was concerned about Covid and even though everyone we saw had masks and was distancing as much as possible, it took a lot of asking before we relented. Then the kids went to a nearby action that had been organized by other kids. It was small and from what I heard, went about as you would expect a kid led protest to go. They marched circles around the park and made some speeches that were difficult to hear. But they had the experience of getting people together, taking collective action and getting their message out to the world. Buddy and Lou were inspired and decided to plan their own protest. </div><div><br /></div><div>T helped them with supplies and guided them through thinking out what they would need. The kids planned the theme, Black Lives Matter with a focus on LGBTQ+ and people with disabilities. They planned the route, the program and looked up who to invite. The kids wrote a solicitation inviting people to participate, speak, donate supplies and act as medics and marshals. Reading their email made cry.</div><blockquote>"Hello, <br /><br />We are two kids ages 9 and 11, and we are organizing a protest. We are hoping to show people that the current system of how we treat Black and Brown people is not okay, and that police brutality needs to be stopped. We especially want to call attention to queer people of color and disabled people of color.<br /><br />We were wondering if you could provide some help with making sure we have the resources to do so. We're not sure how large this protest will be, but we want to be ready for a large event. We will need food (small portable snacks), water, and hand sanitizer. If we find that we have more supplies than are needed, we will give the rest to a shelter and/or another protest in the future. It would also help if we had some volunteer marshals to help organize. <br /><br />We would also be very grateful if you would like to send a speaker to be part of this event. It will take place at (Time, Place, Route). We are hoping to have a short rally with speakers at both ends of the march. We will be providing ASL interpreting and there will be easy access for wheelchairs.<br /><br />We're very thankful that you are taking this into consideration. <br /><br />Sincerely,<br />Buddy (they/them) and Lou (xe/xir)"<br /></blockquote><div>This email encapsulates all the hopes I had for them. They're aware and active. They want to be involved. They want to lead. They want to focus on specific communities within the larger movement. This is key. It's not "All Lives Matter," it's "These lives within the greater set of Black Lives will get particular focus today." It's notable because it brings in and includes LQBTQ+ and disabled BIPOC communities into the movement. It's uniting rather than dividing. They made sure to include interpreters, and a route that is accessible to people with mobility issues. They already understand inclusion and intersectionality better than I did when I was 30. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xE0AWw9wI1U/XwjVsr791wI/AAAAAAAADHA/JzypwfxHt_01i2vMqILMf0Jm7d1Dzt8VwCK4BGAsYHg/s1440/83363728_3184592831563151_2238724226441404877_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xE0AWw9wI1U/XwjVsr791wI/AAAAAAAADHA/JzypwfxHt_01i2vMqILMf0Jm7d1Dzt8VwCK4BGAsYHg/s320/83363728_3184592831563151_2238724226441404877_o.jpg" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>The part that really got me was the signature. They signed it with their pronouns. They are so comfortable with who they are that they're not afraid of putting it right out there in a cold call solicitation. Whether they planned it or not, including the pronouns is also a final way of telling the reader, "You're safe here. You're safe with us." It's such a beautiful and subtle touch, it's probably the part of this that hits me the hardest. These are good kids.</div><div><br /></div><div>The march was yesterday. The solicitation worked. People donated masks and supplies. They had volunteer interpreters and some marshals. T and I helped with publicity. It helps that I run Facebook groups and twitter accounts with over 10K followers. Our city council member came and said a few words. I'm not great at estimating crowds, but I'd say they drew 50-100 people. I'm proud of the kids for putting in the effort. As much as I'd like to see them rewarded with a big turn out, I know that they'll learn things from this that we may not have taught them otherwise. In taking on this project, they are learning to write professional emails, to engage with stakeholders, to research local organizations and how to plan with diversity and inclusion as foundational pieces rather than last minute add-ons. Most important, they saw something wrong in their community and they took action. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have hope.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kyIaucEPW2o/XwjXYQvQffI/AAAAAAAADHo/9qdi5OGjYk0TMKrrYbiHsOZAvXitrXfEwCK4BGAsYHg/s1334/IMG_3570.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1334" height="354" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kyIaucEPW2o/XwjXYQvQffI/AAAAAAAADHo/9qdi5OGjYk0TMKrrYbiHsOZAvXitrXfEwCK4BGAsYHg/w626-h354/IMG_3570.PNG" width="626" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-91153780570713630822020-06-29T17:16:00.009-04:002020-07-26T03:19:28.926-04:00"I Thought I Wasn't Ready," A Busy Month on the Gender Front<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-66v0oHxbhIY/XvpJseCwXlI/AAAAAAAADFE/SYQ2GWyL8l09T9_013hayqKOxBJm2Rw_QCK4BGAsYHg/s270/2019_fall_mfa_brachman.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="A child looking up while having face paint applied to their nose" border="0" data-original-height="152" data-original-width="270" height="375" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-66v0oHxbhIY/XvpJseCwXlI/AAAAAAAADFE/SYQ2GWyL8l09T9_013hayqKOxBJm2Rw_QCK4BGAsYHg/w666-h375/2019_fall_mfa_brachman.png" width="666" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font size="2">(Note: "xe/xir" are non-binary pronouns preferred by my child.)</font></td></tr></tbody></table><div></div><div><br /></div><div>October-November, 2019 was a busy couple months for us. The Washington Nationals went on an improbable run to a World Series title and our family was suddenly in the middle of participating in a lot of media. T, Buddy and I were interviewed for a CBS News documentary on raising boys and the "new masculinity." CBS cold called me after a producer read <a href="https://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2018/01/let-them-be-friends.html" target="_blank">this post</a> I'd written about encouraging platonic friendships between kids of different genders. Though our best material didn't make it in, we did make the final cut. You can <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/news/raising-boys-toxic-masculinity-cbsn-documentary/" target="_blank">watch the documentary here</a>, but it isn't captioned. Or you can view <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/video/raising-boys-as-society-redefines-masculinity/" target="_blank">this captioned clip</a> of me and T. The show ended up being about aggression, while T and I talked a lot more about gender relations and presentation. I understand they had to choose a direction due to time, but I do think that discussing how gender norms are pushed on kids and how that relates to their behavior as adults deserves a platform.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oCVcn6lrkbw/XvpRF6FfWlI/AAAAAAAADFg/dXCmuQSHWa0DMnd_dTjLuRxIgl6Ox0SNgCK4BGAsYHg/s4032/IMG_2122.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oCVcn6lrkbw/XvpRF6FfWlI/AAAAAAAADFg/dXCmuQSHWa0DMnd_dTjLuRxIgl6Ox0SNgCK4BGAsYHg/w401-h300/IMG_2122.jpg" width="401" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font size="2">Buddy taking a turn in front of the camera</font><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div>During this same time period, Lou was asked to participate in a documentary about coming out as a transgender child. <a href="https://collab.sundance.org/people/Aurora-Brachman-1583571740" target="_blank">Aurora Brachman</a> is a filmmaker studying at Stanford University. She came to our house for two days of filming and once more to interview Lou. Aurora is a wonderful person and a good film maker. She put all of us at ease and was able to get Lou to be xir natural self. The filming was tough on Lou at times. One session happened in our tiny bathroom on Halloween. Lou did xir best, but after a while xe really wanted to go out trick or treating instead of continuing to film. Aurora filmed and interviewed several other transgender kids in the area so when she shared the final film with us, I was surprised that Lou ended up providing all of the narration. I'm biased, but watching Lou tell xir story in xir own words makes me cry every time. I deal with the day-to-day kid who has tantrums and leaves messes and makes excuses. I forget that there's this beautiful, insightful story teller inside the nine-year-old whirlwind.</div><div><br /></div><div>We couldn't say a lot about the documentary, "I Thought I Wasn't Ready," until now because it wasn't publicly available. It was submitted to Sundance and is now <a href="https://collab.sundance.org/catalog/I-Thought-I-Wasn-t-Ready-2020-03-07-012440" target="_blank">posted to their website</a>. I'd love for you to follow the link and check it out if you are a hearing person. However, that version is not captioned. With Aurora's permission I created a captioned version, which I can send you upon request. If you do not need captions, I encourage you to follow the Sundance link so they can capture people's interest in the film.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm very proud to be parenting these kids. They continue to grow and develop into very cool people despite my many mistakes as a father. One thing I feel we've done right has been creating an environment where they can be themselves. Gender, gender norms and ideas about gender presentation are changing. These kids will be prepared for that new reality as society realizes and accepts that gender goes far beyond the binary.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can hear the kids talk more about their journeys in their own words on the debut episode of the Interdisciplinary Life podcast: <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><iframe src="https://anchor.fm/aninterdisciplinarylife/embed/episodes/Talking-to-Kids-About-Their-Coming-Out-Stories-egllug/a-a2mg46t" height="102px" width="400px" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"></iframe>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-23898045260448895152020-06-21T21:18:00.000-04:002020-06-21T21:18:09.641-04:00A Father's Day Trip to the Backyard Cafe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x8567YK94F0/XvAEHB8V1UI/AAAAAAAADCM/mpXjZWghhZ4dTPGSDD3nLw72d9CsfTjvgCK4BGAsYHg/s4032/IMG_3436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="469" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x8567YK94F0/XvAEHB8V1UI/AAAAAAAADCM/mpXjZWghhZ4dTPGSDD3nLw72d9CsfTjvgCK4BGAsYHg/w625-h469/IMG_3436.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Holy molé, two posts in a week. Lucky us. This Father's Day was such a treat, I felt compelled to share. It really started about a month ago when T asked if I wanted to have Father's Day early. I was happy to oblige and was gifted with an AppleTV HD. We had a first generation AppleTV that was working fine, this new one is amazing. It's really really cool. The biggest change is the ability to download new apps, which the first generation lacked. Hello Sling and Disney+! So that's been cool. We've had a ton of fun with family movie nights. <div><br /></div><div>But that's not what I came to talk about. You may remember a couple years ago, I wrote about the opening of <a href="http://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2018/07/review-backyard-cafe.html" target="_blank">The Backyard Cafe</a>. In the intervening years, it has morphed into the Backyard Mall offering <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BmtIbP7hT-D/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link">hair</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BmtIUjbh2yH/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link">nails</a> among other services. This Father's Day I had a chance to return to the Cafe for two meals. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t6bdfF9qiMQ/XvAEHqKguNI/AAAAAAAADCs/ptiSIpzPLyg294gXBCmdCpuqFgdi2zwRACK4BGAsYHg/s2100/IMG_3446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1574" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t6bdfF9qiMQ/XvAEHqKguNI/AAAAAAAADCs/ptiSIpzPLyg294gXBCmdCpuqFgdi2zwRACK4BGAsYHg/s320/IMG_3446.jpg" /></a></div></div><div>The staff did a great job with the menus and even had a special place card for me. I have to say, the quality has gone way way up since the last time I was there. This time, the only mishap occurred before I got there. It seems the cook made a pot of coffee without checking to see if there was already coffee in the pot. Other than that, everything was perfect. The bacon was crisp. The eggs over easy were perfect, which isn't easy. The potatoes came out on time and were cooked all the way through. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was so impressed, I went back for lunch. The chef surprised me with an blast from the past favorite. </div><div><br /></div><div>I spent four years during high school and college working at the Togo's deli across the street from the university. While I was there, I started getting creative with ingredients for my meals. As a broke student, I definitely took advantage of working at a place where I could get free or discounted food that I could make myself. My finest creation was, The Bertissimo. In Togo's parlance, the base of it was #24, turkey and avocado. On top of that, I added provolone, bacon and BBQ beef. Then all the veggies and a bit of mayo. I haven't had one in 20 years. Until today.</div><div><br /></div><div>Buddy, remembered me talking about it and had gathered the ingredients. When I sat down for lunch, there before me was a reasonable facsimile of my original creation. It was on T's home made sourdough instead of the sandwich rolls we used back in the day, and the bacon wasn't pre-cooked from a box. So it was probably better than what I used to make. The real treat about it was the thought and effort that went into it. My little pre-teen boy loves and pays attention to what I say so much, he remembered a sandwich recipe I told him about in passing several years ago and made it for me. Sure, he doesn't listen to anything else I say, but this was still pretty special. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gm6c8f65JkE/XvAFIZ48HiI/AAAAAAAADDA/9xyD7S2FU70CE8oXwQUmSNje5OAc5UTswCK4BGAsYHg/s3824/IMG_3437%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2866" data-original-width="3824" height="469" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gm6c8f65JkE/XvAFIZ48HiI/AAAAAAAADDA/9xyD7S2FU70CE8oXwQUmSNje5OAc5UTswCK4BGAsYHg/w625-h469/IMG_3437%2B2.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>It was a really great day. It was something I didn't realize I needed so badly during this pandemic and time of social upheaval. I really do feel appreciated far beyond the superficial Hallmark banality I typically associate with these holidays. T's contributions were subtle and necessary, but allowed the kids' contributions to shine through. After lunch, we played Rock Band as a family and just hung out. It was everything I could ask for as a dad.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YjIilTsw0Z4/XvAEH8xeg5I/AAAAAAAADCs/99F-TsILOmYvnxJcMnrym7ZzGGquLZeNwCK4BGAsYHg/s4032/IMG_3449.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="469" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YjIilTsw0Z4/XvAEH8xeg5I/AAAAAAAADCs/99F-TsILOmYvnxJcMnrym7ZzGGquLZeNwCK4BGAsYHg/w626-h469/IMG_3449.jpg" width="626" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bike riding and hair styling in the front yard of the Backyard Cafe<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-61055752101261500752020-06-19T16:57:00.000-04:002020-06-19T17:22:17.082-04:00Kids, Your Dad is a Gosh Darn Hero<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nOfNiTgCr3c/Xu0TlFpNuVI/AAAAAAAADAI/pwQDRIEsCjAh1rLMfNLkYr6Y_v9BtY3iwCK4BGAsYHg/s4032/IMG_3431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="469" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nOfNiTgCr3c/Xu0TlFpNuVI/AAAAAAAADAI/pwQDRIEsCjAh1rLMfNLkYr6Y_v9BtY3iwCK4BGAsYHg/w625-h469/IMG_3431.jpg" width="625" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font size="2">I wish I had a more dramatic picture, but I was busy being a hero.</font><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>I don't usually do a Father's Day post, but I guess I'm doing it this year because I'm feeling awfully fathery this morning. I've written a little bit about how I sometimes feel inadequate as a parent because I haven't taught my kids enough practical skills. They can barely swim. Aside from the 5 year old, they learned to ride bikes late and she only learned because the other kids did it first. I've lamented about the deterioration of my own hands-on skills. After taking wood working and working on construction sites as an adolescent, I convinced myself over the years that I didn't know how to perform basic repairs. I've recently been reversing that trend and engaging with the kids on home maintenance projects. We've been repairing windows, painting the exterior and caulking the tub. It feels good. I finally feel like the kind of dad I want to be.</div><div><br /></div><div>Which brings us to last night.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dvcQ7d9czDI/Xu0YMwDPPKI/AAAAAAAADBI/YnyWVL9hOFM5OXLkEQrGg4HiPsCx0M-FgCK4BGAsYHg/s750/IMG_3433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="750" height="211" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dvcQ7d9czDI/Xu0YMwDPPKI/AAAAAAAADBI/YnyWVL9hOFM5OXLkEQrGg4HiPsCx0M-FgCK4BGAsYHg/w256-h211/IMG_3433.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font size="2">It was a lush yard</font><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><br /></div><div>Last night, I finally got the chance to do something really dadly.</div><div><br /></div><div>This morning, at about 2:00am I heard someone coming up my front stairs. Yesterday, the neighborhood email list had been full of conversation about a mysterious series of occurrences where someone was knocking on doors and ringing doorbells in the middle of the night. When the knock and ring came, I sprang into action, convinced I was about to confront the Midnight Ringer. When I opened the door, there stood my neighbor from two doors down. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Charles? You're the Midnight Ringer?" Before the thought was fully formed, he yelled, "Your back yard is on fire!"</div><div><br /></div><div>I sprinted to the back of the house. I could see the orange glow through the kitchen window. I reached for the phone, "Alice called 911," he offered out helpfully. It didn't register. </div><div><br /></div><div>"911 what's you emergency?</div><div><br /></div><div>"My back yard is on fire"</div><div><br /></div><div>"The whole yard, sir?</div><div><br /></div><div>"No, uh mostly the fence. It's my neighbor's shed that's really on fire, but its in my yard too."</div><div><br /></div><div>I stood at the back door momentarily stunned by the flames that looked like something out of a movie. The corner of the shed that abuts my fence in the yard behind my yard was engulfed in flames. I say shed, but it used to be a horse stable and had recently been converted to an outdoor covered patio. The fence that separates the yards was on fire about a third of the way along its length. I could smell apples on our tree being roasted.</div><div><br /></div><div>I rousted myself from my stupor and ran to turn on our hose. I didn't want to wait for help as I realized that fire along the fence could get to my shed and then my next door neighbor's house. The neighbor on my left also has a garage that sits next to the burning barn. So, I faced the flames with my little garden hose expecting the water to turn to entirely ineffective steam. I was right. It was a futile gesture, at first. When I changed the hose nozzle from mist to stream, I was able to start putting down the flames. </div><div><br /></div><div>Honestly, it felt kinda badass. </div><div><br /></div><div>That's when I heard T yelling to the kids, "Get out! Get out! No that way, away from daddy. Go to the front." Sure, she was 100% correct from a safety perspective, though standing there on top of our garden box with my hose, I didn't think there was any imminent danger. My thought was, "But I want them to see their father being cool," though I didn't have the time or the inclination to really argue with her. </div><div><br /></div><div>By the time the firefighters came from two blocks away, I had things on my corner of the barn pretty well in hand. That is to say, it wasn't spreading but I was sure glad they came in to really get the deep soak that would ensure that there were no invisible embers that could reignite. They also put out the far side of the barn that I couldn't effectively reach with my little garden hose. For the next 90 minutes or so we chatted with the firefighters, the neighbors and each other. The kids made tea before going back to bed. We all forgot about distancing and masks for a minute as we assessed whether the remaining smoke was more embers in the wall, or just steam. (It was embers, they cut out a good section of the cross beams to quell it.) Yo got a fist bump from a firefighter. I asked if the foam they used was safe for our vegetable garden and they assured me it was basically dish soap.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r4D-10261Lo/Xu0TlUeT4_I/AAAAAAAADAg/ctOGzdEtQsAl1X5fKmdzbPNwz9e2lbYZACK4BGAsYHg/s4032/IMG_2747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="192" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r4D-10261Lo/Xu0TlUeT4_I/AAAAAAAADAg/ctOGzdEtQsAl1X5fKmdzbPNwz9e2lbYZACK4BGAsYHg/w256-h192/IMG_2747.JPG" width="256" /></a></div>As 4:00am rolled around, things were settling back down. The firefighters left. I secretly wanted some kind of "attaboy" or recognition for holding things down until they got there, but none came. Yes, inside I am still a 12-year-old hoping for affirmation from the people I wanted to be when I grew up. I did get a lot of thanks from my neighbors on each side for helping to save their yards. I in turn thanked Charles for knocking on the door. Though they didn't watch it all go down, I do think the kids see me as being a little more capable as a protector. I feel a little more capable too. Even though I spent many years training as a first responder, I still carry doubt about what I'll do when faced with an emergency. I feel better about myself this morning than I did at bed time last night. When we all got up in the morning I extolled the kids on how their dad saved the entire neighborhood.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, if only I could crack the case of the Midnight Ringer...</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cGA8SujA9k8/Xu0TqMagYVI/AAAAAAAADAg/akKHtuvxe5wRG9H7b6uYQJjqfCBkR_NxgCK4BGAsYHg/s960/104410971_10100162012827773_1511207573037264405_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="469" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cGA8SujA9k8/Xu0TqMagYVI/AAAAAAAADAg/akKHtuvxe5wRG9H7b6uYQJjqfCBkR_NxgCK4BGAsYHg/w625-h469/104410971_10100162012827773_1511207573037264405_n.jpg" width="625" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font size="2"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Chillin'</div></font></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-27702593473706011462020-04-29T20:48:00.000-04:002020-04-29T20:48:50.017-04:00Obligatory Covid-19 Post, with Dancing (Video)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hi! How's it going? Did you miss me? It's OK, you don't have to pretend. I know we've all had a lot on our minds. I've been doing a bunch of writing, just not here. I've been trying to work on my </span>dissertation<span style="font-family: inherit;"> and right now, I feel guilty writing anything that isn't my lit review.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, Covid huh? Pretty wild </span>amirite?<br />
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Look, I don't have a topical post. I have no tips on how to work from home. I have no listicle of fun ways to home school your kids. I have no creative dinner ideas for the things you were planning on giving to the next canned food drive. (OK, I do have some of those, it's how I met my wife. But that's for a different time.)<br />
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What I do have is a fun thing my wife did for a friend of ours. Quick digression: In an earlier social post about this, I referred to our friend as "T's friend." It wasn't until the next day that I realized how oddly distancing that was. I've known her for at least 10 years now. I think subconsciously, I didn't want to presume a relationship with someone so cool, even though she's never been anything but totally friendly toward me. So yeah, she's our friend.<br />
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Our friend is now a 20 year cancer survivor. They couldn't have a party, so her wife took her on a driving tour of their favorite spots including stops in front of the homes of friends and family so they could wish her a happy anniversary. Of course, I was the dumbass who called out "Happy birthday" from my porch.<br />
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But anyway, T took this occasion to put together a dance number, because it's a fun tribute and let's face it, we have the time. So T designed the choreography, taught it to us, got costumes together and made everyone's day. She also made a video.<br />
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So yeah, there's a ton of videos out there of people doing things to pass the time. This is kinda one of those. It's also a tribute to our friend who not only lived, but has lived a life of service to others that has brought a lot of good into the world.<br />
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How do we help get each other through this time of social distancing and holding every single interaction on Zoom? You gotta have faith.<br />
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<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/t2Yk9zxXGNM" width="560"></iframe>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-11701832136965238492020-02-11T18:30:00.000-05:002020-02-11T18:30:08.519-05:00Co-Ed Slumber Parties: Fresh From City Dads Group<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old School Slumber Party Crew</td></tr>
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My oldest is now 10. Last year, or maybe it was two years ago, he went to a sleepover birthday party, as kids do. At the time, I didn't think anything of the fact that it was a co-ed invite list. I think my oldest son may have been the only boy invited, I'm not sure because I didn't care enough to examine who was there when I dropped off or picked up. After the party ended, I forgot it had even happened. A few months ago, I was at another party where the topic of "that party with the boy sleeping over" came up. The parents I talked to were sagely nodding to each other, relieved that one girl just went for the movie and didn’t sleep over. According to the group wisdom, her parents had done well. "Uh, yeah." I said, "That one boy there was my son."<br />
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What happened next? How do I feel about topic? Please head on over to City Dads Group to read more, <a href="https://citydadsgroup.com/blog/mixed-gender-sleepovers/" target="_blank">Mixed Gender Sleepovers: Cause for Scandal or Celebration of Diversity</a>.<br />
<br />Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-32967626106019928182020-01-28T15:29:00.000-05:002020-01-28T23:52:02.393-05:00Kobe Bryant and Teaching Consent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nEJcgE-gh_o/XjCZH9nfX3I/AAAAAAAAC2M/2CM3gQHfZZUyuPiiSr5kDg6UFk5oTphKgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/29542004_1806642036024911_3267374138001111574_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nEJcgE-gh_o/XjCZH9nfX3I/AAAAAAAAC2M/2CM3gQHfZZUyuPiiSr5kDg6UFk5oTphKgCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/29542004_1806642036024911_3267374138001111574_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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When I heard Sunday that Kobe Bryant had died, I was surprised. Of course I was, it's surprising when you hear that a person younger than yourself has suddenly died. Beyond that, I felt...nothing. This was also surprising. I was in the middle of helping coach at a youth rugby tournament so at first I chalked it up to that. During a break in the tournament I thought about it again. I'm not really into celebrity news outside of whatever it is people do when they're doing whatever it is they're famous for. So while I love say, Steph Curry as a Warrior, I don't know a ton about him off the court. So at that moment I chalked my lack of feelings on Kobe to my general apathy towards celebrity news in general. When the tournament was over and the kids and I were getting in the car, I reexamined my feelings and I still felt nothing. Why?<br />
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Why wasn't I upset?<br />
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I had been a huge Kobe fan between 2000 and 2003. If you know anything about Kobe, you know what happened in 2003. I was living in DC at the time and saving up for a sweet, crisp white Kobe Bryant jersey, which was a significant expense for a broke grad student. Then the news hit that Kobe had been accused of raping a woman in Colorado. After that, I always appreciated Kobe as a great basketball player, but I was no longer a fan.<br />
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In the years since his retirement Kobe had an impressive second act as a content creator. I never watched any of his work, not out of disdain or a sense of morality, but just because there's a lot of content out there to watch and it didn't interest me enough to seek it out.<br />
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Now he's gone.<br />
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When I mentioned his death to my wife, T was even less interested. Her thoughts were squarely with his victim. We agreed that it was a notable cultural event and that we were sad for everyone on board. They were all family and friend and co-worker and mentor to someone. There were kids, which is always sad. But that it was Kobe isn't any more sad than if it was anyone else.<br />
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It came up again over dinner. I don't remember how.<br />
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We have been deliberate in teaching our children about consent. We started with each of them from the time they were able to express a simple yes/no preference. We ask them if we can pick them up. We ask if we can hug or kiss them. We allow them the space to say, no. The goal of this with little kids is to teach them that they have bodily autonomy in their interpersonal relationships. They don't owe anyone physical affection, not even their closest relatives. We are not a physically distant family. We are very snuggly. My 10y/o son will still curl up on the couch with me to read or watch tv. My 8y/o still wants to be carried and tucked in. My 4y/o is basically glued to my wife every waking moment and asks me to lie down with her sometimes at bedtime. We're an affectionate crew, but always with consent.<br />
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Our conversation at dinner was the first time I remember us ever talking about consent in the context of sex or adult physical intimacy. I don't remember what prompted it, but one of the kids asked, "What's wrong with Kobe Bryant?" I guess you don't really plan for these conversations, because we tried to skirt the issue, hoping they would drop it quickly. They didn't.<br />
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"He hurt at least one person very badly." (Silently hoping they drop it.)<br />
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"What did he do?"<br />
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"He touched a woman in ways she did not want be touched."<br />
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"Like what?"<br />
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And there we were. My kids have known about the existence of sex for a long time. The older two were in the room when the youngest was born. They know where babies come from, though I don't think they know all the mechanics of how they get there. They know about sperm and egg and which party contributes each one. They understand most of the biological facts of procreation, but I don't know if we've ever really talked about sex outside of procreation. It was a little disorienting that Kobe Bryant's death had me charging into this discussion with my kids.<br />
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We covered everything you might want a young person entering adolescence to know about consent in an intimate relationship. We talked about peer pressure and coercion. Emphasized that they don't owe their bodies to anyone, no matter how nice the other person has been. We told them that there's no point where they can't say, "stop." It doesn't matter if you've been dating, kissing, or moved on to something more, you can always say, "stop" and expect your partner to stop. Using ourselves as examples, we showed that no matter how much you believe that the person in front of you is the only person for you, there is always someone else who will love you the way you deserve. They were a little surprised that T and I had dated more than a couple other people before we met, though they knew I had been married once before. The point was that the fear of losing someone shouldn't be the driver for doing things you don't want to do. Anyone who makes you feel that way is proving to you that there's someone better out there. The bottom line is that your body is yours. Anyone making you feel otherwise through word or deed is someone you should consider removing from your life. You don't need to acquiesce or compromise.<br />
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It was a good talk. One that I'm glad we were able to have and will have again. The fact is, no amount of teaching consent will prevent what happened to that 19 year old woman in Colorado. She did exactly what we told our kids to do. She said no. She tried to leave. She made her unwillingness known. She was raped anyway. That's not her fault. Understanding consent isn't magic armor that will keep you from all harm. I only hope that it can be a tool that keeps people from the less visible harms that come into too many relationships.<br />
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Kobe Bryant is dead and feel terrible for his family, his friends, and even his fans. They lost someone dear to them. For me, his legacy will be in continuing to try to protect my kids from people who commit similar, silent, deniable crimes against vulnerable partners, and to make sure my son grows up to be a better man.<br />
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More Commentary on Wrestling with Kobe's Legacy:<br />
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<a href="https://jill.substack.com/p/kobe-bryant-and-complicated-legacies" target="_blank">Kobe Bryant and Complicated Legacies </a><br />
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<a href="https://slate.com/culture/2020/01/kobe-bryant-rape-allegation-coverage.html" target="_blank">It's Not "Too Soon" to Talk About the Kobe Bryant Rape Case</a><br />
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<br />Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-91554977818236795972019-12-30T11:16:00.000-05:002019-12-30T11:55:19.989-05:00Recipe Post: Bacon Explosion and a Decade as "The Bacon Guy."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eSBIRSASP40/XgkWuwcOyEI/AAAAAAAACys/YKaJucPMyokHOO230GK8mKOpsNB1eYh6QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="842" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eSBIRSASP40/XgkWuwcOyEI/AAAAAAAACys/YKaJucPMyokHOO230GK8mKOpsNB1eYh6QCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_2417.jpg" width="356" /></a></div>
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I read or heard once that every crew has "the ___ guy." I guess maybe this applies to all male or maybe mixed gender crews. I'll admit, I don't know as much about all female crews but I imagine there's a similar concept at play. There's the "fedora guy," the "indecisive guy," the "quiet guy," etc. Of course, these are just examples of types, your crew may not have a quiet guy or whatever. During my youth, I was the "funny guy." Then about 10 years ago, I somehow became the "bacon guy." I'm not sure how it happened but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bacon_Explosion" target="_blank">Bacon Explosion</a>. The thing is, I don't remember if I came the Bacon Guy because of the recipe or if I was sent the recipe because I was the bacon guy. What I do know is that for years my friends would send me bacon memes and bacon photos and bacon recipes on social media. They would also give me bacon ephemera on holidays or just randomly. Bacon chocolate, bacon mints, bacon body wash, I got it all. It was fun, and it was all somehow tied to the Bacon Explosion.<br />
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<a href="https://nationaltoday.com/december-holidays/" target="_blank">December is full of holidays</a>. I learned about a ton of them at my kids' holiday show at our local theme park. One of them is today, December 30th, which is <a href="https://nationaltoday.com/national-bacon-day/" target="_blank">National Bacon Day</a>, another in the long line of National Days. (Seriously, it seems like National Bike to Work Day happens 4-6 times/year). You may be thinking, "He's writing about another National -insert food- holiday? Didn't he just do this?" Well, yes. It's fun and I need a break from the more serious stuff so bear with me, OK? Thanks. After all, if you remember my old <a href="https://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2017/08/sahdkitchen-healthy-taco-meat.html" target="_blank">SAHD Kitchen</a> posts, cooking posts aren't off brand for me. I promise I'll have something more uh...meaty coming up next month. (Get it? Meaty? Get it?) Besides, I couldn't pass up a chance to write about bacon. I'm the Bacon Guy.<br />
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The Bacon Explosion was invented by <a href="http://www.bbqaddicts.com/recipes/pork/bacon-explosion/" target="_blank">BBQ Addicts</a> back in 2008. I don't remember how it came to mu attention. I remember someone sending it to me and saying I should give it a try. Or maybe I heard about it on NPR. Who knows. What is clear is that I had to try it.<br />
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I made my first Bacon Explosion for the 2009 Super Bowl. It was clear right away that I'd have to improvise some things as I did not have a smoker, which is called for in the original recipe, and that's what I want to focus on for you here today. If you just wanted to make a bacon explosion, you could find the steps on the BBQ Addicts site. I want to offer you something else. After making these in my kitchen for ten years, I would like to share some tweaks to the original recipe that work for the typical home cook. So I'll document my latest attempt and let you know where my approach differs from the original recipe.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j2b0ueqW2h0/XgkCypZIudI/AAAAAAAACws/SWx0JKMrye4BUT8WkybgtBmwKr1dgsvGACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2399%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="239" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j2b0ueqW2h0/XgkCypZIudI/AAAAAAAACws/SWx0JKMrye4BUT8WkybgtBmwKr1dgsvGACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2399%2B2.jpg" width="320" /></a>What you'll need:<br />
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2 pounds of your favorite bacon<br />
1 pound of uncased sausage<br />
BBQ rub<br />
BBQ sauce<br />
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Baking sheet, deep is better<br />
Rack for over the baking sheet.<br />
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Prep time: About an hour<br />
Cook time: About 3 hours<br />
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<b>Step 1: </b>Lay down a bacon weave. The original recipe says 5x5 for the weave. I say just make a square and don't worry about how many slices that is.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rzjy1mUUhKA/XgkDzvMpTBI/AAAAAAAACw4/2I8a4e-w9UMjprWWb1RBPtLh4xRL4ZFygCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2400%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rzjy1mUUhKA/XgkDzvMpTBI/AAAAAAAACw4/2I8a4e-w9UMjprWWb1RBPtLh4xRL4ZFygCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2400%2B2.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zNTdi6WwZFk/XgkCR3CBJ7I/AAAAAAAACwQ/5PmWaZudo9EIriVnYODxY2Fg-jC-U5gAgCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zNTdi6WwZFk/XgkCR3CBJ7I/AAAAAAAACwQ/5PmWaZudo9EIriVnYODxY2Fg-jC-U5gAgCEwYBhgL/s320/IMG_2401.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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The first difference between my approach and the original is in the bacon. The original calls for only thick cut bacon. What I've found is that it's better if you use regular thin bacon for the outer weave. Because you slow cook it, the inside of the weave doesn't cook the same way you might be used to for bacon. It's cooked, but it's more like ham than bacon and thicker bacon cooks even less evenly on the inside of the weave. So I prefer thin bacon for the weave. It gives a better texture.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lRaHvt1__ZQ/XgkCTE2maNI/AAAAAAAACwU/vBRo8ReXo90n9yHD5CGOEju-ls4riZeVACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lRaHvt1__ZQ/XgkCTE2maNI/AAAAAAAACwU/vBRo8ReXo90n9yHD5CGOEju-ls4riZeVACEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_2402.jpg" width="200" /></a><b>Step 2:</b> Dust your weave with some of your rub.<br />
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A sweeter rub is nice as it counter points the saltiness of the bacon. If you don't have rub, you can make your own or use other spices. In a pinch, I've used Old Bay or a mix of paprika, chili powder or other things. I've never tried brown sugar, but I bet that would be good too.<br />
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<b>Step 3:</b> Add sausage layer over the weave.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vX8Xs_vV9Fc/XgkGedKA1RI/AAAAAAAACxE/HZ1bYI0UOp4SqBOOpHW0oXK2rAqdC7K3gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2403%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vX8Xs_vV9Fc/XgkGedKA1RI/AAAAAAAACxE/HZ1bYI0UOp4SqBOOpHW0oXK2rAqdC7K3gCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/IMG_2403%2B2.jpg" width="200" /></a>This is another place where I deviate from the original. BBQ Addicts wants two pounds of sausage. For me, that much sausage causes the sausage to dominate the dish and takes away from the bacon. This is a bacon recipe. We want bacon to be the primary experience, so I only use one pound of sausage. I used to buy cased sausage and cut the casing off. Lately I've been buying uncased sausage. You can use whatever you like. I like using Italian, but if you want more of a breakfast taste you could use breakfast sausage. Spread the sausage all the way out to the edges.<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GALAssoX9ds/XgkI6eYfP_I/AAAAAAAACxc/AnKz_ID_EkIGw_Ybeyox_4ARhgdEtdKTgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2407%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GALAssoX9ds/XgkI6eYfP_I/AAAAAAAACxc/AnKz_ID_EkIGw_Ybeyox_4ARhgdEtdKTgCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/IMG_2407%2B2.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<b>Step 4:</b> This isn't really step 4, it's more of a concurrent step if you can swing it. You want to cook up the rest of your pound-plus of bacon. Cook it up how you like it. I like mine crispy. Take all that yummy bacon and crumble a layer over your sausage. Remember to only snack on bacon from the plate. Once you put it on the sausage, it's on raw pork and you can't eat it until after it's all cooked. Next, drizzle your favorite BBQ sauce over the crumbled bacon layer.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fAjfHNmZqjo/XgkKgaxddHI/AAAAAAAACxo/6FO1teZJ5AgPEfrV9QhYADSvVrUCFPbVgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fAjfHNmZqjo/XgkKgaxddHI/AAAAAAAACxo/6FO1teZJ5AgPEfrV9QhYADSvVrUCFPbVgCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/IMG_2416.JPG" width="150" /></a><b></b><br />
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<b>Step 5: </b>From the top, carefully but firmly roll the sausage layer towards you, rolling up the crumbled bacon in the sausage. This will give you a pinwheel of bacon and sausage. Make sure you roll it tight, take your time.<br />
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<b>Step 6: </b>Roll the sausage tube back up in the weave. Here, you don't want much overlap for the reason I mentioned above. Any bacon in the weave that isn't expose to the outside won't cook up the way you want. You just want enough overlap to keep it closed up at the seam. If you end up with an extra apron, cut it off and enjoy your bonus bacon snack. BBQ Addicts says to do another layer of rubin the outside of the weave, which is good, but I usually forget and I don't think it changes all that much. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eqxLfkVrCsE/XgkLlqugEkI/AAAAAAAACx0/SeTo8d3ApfkHSseqDpwegtyVB4AiCVXIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2408%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="1600" height="298" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eqxLfkVrCsE/XgkLlqugEkI/AAAAAAAACx0/SeTo8d3ApfkHSseqDpwegtyVB4AiCVXIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/IMG_2408%2B2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trim the extra and cook it up as a snack</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f-jipJGyHMg/XgkCWiFehXI/AAAAAAAACwg/qxPi6iZAiaQBB1Sss77kGTpwU8v0uu0CgCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f-jipJGyHMg/XgkCWiFehXI/AAAAAAAACwg/qxPi6iZAiaQBB1Sss77kGTpwU8v0uu0CgCEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_2410.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not quite ready</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Now you're ready to get cooking. The original wants you to put it in a smoker at 225 for about 2 and a half hours. I didn't have a smoker so I had to use my oven. I still set it to 225. In order to get some air flow and to allow the grease to drip off, you want to put it on a rack over a deep baking sheet. Bake it for an hour, then flip it over. After the second hour, check it for an internal temperature of at least 160. I usually need to flip it again and give it another 30-40 minutes. Once you get to 160 you're ready for the last step.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WG45nRKq20Y/XgkCXNvKZUI/AAAAAAAACwk/jEuqCZZ7k1c9XV2XnQ8h3LeCHuAEnCxDwCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WG45nRKq20Y/XgkCXNvKZUI/AAAAAAAACwk/jEuqCZZ7k1c9XV2XnQ8h3LeCHuAEnCxDwCEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_2411.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The original recipe wants you to get to an internal temp of 165. That's where they end the cooking. For me, the weave is still not cooked to where I like it at this point. So when I get to 160, I turn the oven to broil. If you have two broil settings you can do about 5 minutes on each side on low broil. If you only have a high broil setting then go for 2 minutes on each side or until the outer layer looks how you want it.<br />
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Last, baste the whole thing in BBQ sauce and you're ready to serve. Go ahead and treat yourself to the crispy end, it's the best slice.<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jUKc1Ss0cDo/XgkR7i4fqLI/AAAAAAAACyA/w0MmDQDfFSQVNZG5dOeJjx29NQO29e4lgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/71845_10151428361369889_2107655892_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jUKc1Ss0cDo/XgkR7i4fqLI/AAAAAAAACyA/w0MmDQDfFSQVNZG5dOeJjx29NQO29e4lgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/71845_10151428361369889_2107655892_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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So there it is, a decade of tweaking and improving on the ultimate BBQ-bacon recipe. I've brought these to every super bowl party I've attended in the last ten years. My cousin used to insist that I bring one to Thanksgiving each year. It's made me a hit at workplace parties. I'm the Bacon Guy.<br />
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I've also experimented with it in various ways (pics and serving suggestions below). I made little ones that I called bacon grenades. I made on with turkey bacon and chicken sausage for my wife who doesn't eat mammals. I tried a cheeseburger explosion with ground beef and cheese in the middle, but at 225 the cheese didn't melt right and I hadn't thought of adding the broiler step. I want to revisit that one.<br />
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However you make it, I hope you enjoy it.<br />
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You can make any day a holiday, give your office or classroom something to celebrate, or just enjoy yourself by checking out every National Day at the <a href="https://nationaltoday.com/december-holidays/" target="_blank">National Today website</a>.<br />
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More pics and serving suggestions:<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tLnpXuFLRek/XgkVi_2dbhI/AAAAAAAACyY/NwJh4L_Baio9fZX96IouKyoHpjyFRYFpQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/64575_10151458817264889_26040612_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tLnpXuFLRek/XgkVi_2dbhI/AAAAAAAACyY/NwJh4L_Baio9fZX96IouKyoHpjyFRYFpQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/64575_10151458817264889_26040612_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For breakfast</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bZYPPNq4K64/XgkVio2Cz7I/AAAAAAAACyU/zOg_weS2zns-t4YH7zMFJ1A4y99bTP5gwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/1379717_10152029735594889_836480112_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bZYPPNq4K64/XgkVio2Cz7I/AAAAAAAACyU/zOg_weS2zns-t4YH7zMFJ1A4y99bTP5gwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1379717_10152029735594889_836480112_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turkey bacon explosion</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uknjfXmCzE0/XgkVilMBcpI/AAAAAAAACyM/EQXlXY3WON8wZT6H34BKLUMfWPEbZ-YrwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/1930175_73446449888_4985362_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="270" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uknjfXmCzE0/XgkVilMBcpI/AAAAAAAACyM/EQXlXY3WON8wZT6H34BKLUMfWPEbZ-YrwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1930175_73446449888_4985362_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bacon grenades</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VsqtaV1QIjQ/XgkViq_al1I/AAAAAAAACyQ/gslRe3mS0SoJ0qmf9jBKZx-rW_wgO5aHACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/10448826_10152461558124889_4037322415010096505_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VsqtaV1QIjQ/XgkViq_al1I/AAAAAAAACyQ/gslRe3mS0SoJ0qmf9jBKZx-rW_wgO5aHACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/10448826_10152461558124889_4037322415010096505_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As a burrito</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-24005950127671980812019-11-28T21:57:00.000-05:002019-11-28T22:05:12.526-05:00National Men Make Dinner Day: Non-Traditional Thanksgiving Tradition (Making Sushi)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DSdwQwY8Qxw/VRlik3bF0ZI/AAAAAAAAAh4/LYUg79V4CZgJJY8FnYexgDqIXiSt_quqACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/10898247_693018149893_5324503453002041334_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DSdwQwY8Qxw/VRlik3bF0ZI/AAAAAAAAAh4/LYUg79V4CZgJJY8FnYexgDqIXiSt_quqACPcBGAYYCw/s320/10898247_693018149893_5324503453002041334_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to make dinner</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://nationaltoday.com/national-men-make-dinner-day/" target="_blank">National Men Make Dinner Day</a> happened on November 1st. I'm conflicted. I make dinner roughly half the time at my house, down from 99% of the time back when I was a stay at home dad. So from that angle, I can't fathom that we need such a 1950s Mad Men era holiday.<br />
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I can imagine Don Draper doing his Don Draper incredulous squint and saying, "What's next, National Women Go to Work Day?" Then Peggy gives him a scornful look, Pete says something about how his wife would be a disaster in a workplace and only women who can't catch a man end up working, Harry chuckles, Peggy gives a short feminist speech that leaves everyone silent until Don comes around and supports her.<br />
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I think I'm off on a tangent.<br />
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Sorry.<br />
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The other side of this is that it wouldn't exist if it wasn't needed. Even though the country is trending towards men holding up more of their end at home, it looks like many aren't making dinner. So anything that gets guys cooking is probably a good thing. So National Men Make Dinner Day is a thing, and it's not my place to go against the grain of a National Day of things. So, I set about planning on making a dinner. The problem was, I didn't know about National Men Make Dinner Day until a few days after November 1st.<br />
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Lucky for me, I was nudged to write something about it anyway. So here we are at the meat of the matter. Making dinner. But what? Something mom used to make? Sure. OK. The thing is, I felt like for this illustrious day dedicated to men who maybe don't cook all that often, I should try something new. I learned how to cook from my abuelita, my step-dad and my mom. So I knew how to make all the primary dishes they made. What could I make that would be a new challenge?<br />
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Then came Thanksgiving.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CdQFd5pHXMI/XeByBrAmWUI/AAAAAAAACsk/q-mvhY0QmtMvu2Dw4OXFndVWjhFEkOAAACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CdQFd5pHXMI/XeByBrAmWUI/AAAAAAAACsk/q-mvhY0QmtMvu2Dw4OXFndVWjhFEkOAAACEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_2234.jpg" width="150" /></a>All our plans with family fell through and neither T or I really felt like cooking a whole meal. I've done Thanksgiving dinner before, so I didn't think that was going to get me material. Then T had a great idea, Kidsgiving. The kids would plan the menu and cook the meal (with some guidance from the adults). The kids gave me the master stroke, they decided that for Thanksgiving, they wanted to make sushi. I was in. I've never made sushi. I'm Japanese. Mom made sushi. Grandma made sushi. I never made it. Sushi. For Thanksgiving. Let's go.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Ii3r6gRtfM/XeByBl13QmI/AAAAAAAACsc/J8FyO2NgTEcxnQe23XerdNwm9nebQFpKACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Ii3r6gRtfM/XeByBl13QmI/AAAAAAAACsc/J8FyO2NgTEcxnQe23XerdNwm9nebQFpKACEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_2236.jpg" width="150" /></a>We made a pot of sticky rice the night before and stuck it in the fridge. We picked up some sashimi grade salmon, an avocado, a cucumber and some nori. That's what I wanted. The kids decided to make tuna salad. In a roll. T looked it up, apparently it's a thing they do in Japan. Like how people here will put hot dogs and chili into a tortilla and call it a burrito. T made a test batch the night before. It was...fine. I left the tuna making to Lou, who's a pro at tuna.<br />
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I've never used a sushi roller before. I have made burritos. So like, I'm all set, right? No. But there are similarities.<br />
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There are two main styles we wanted to try to replicate. They have real Japanese names (Uramaki and Futomaki) but we called them rice on the outside and rice on the inside. We made one of each style for each filling. I'll go through some of the steps below, but I will tell you this isn't a recipe or guide. It's documenting an attempt.<br />
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<b>Uramaki:</b><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XgZ6OVW1DZQ/XeByEPTH0qI/AAAAAAAACss/F6BTuGjcyhQqkQOq9XmFKRNY83ZUXiZEQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XgZ6OVW1DZQ/XeByEPTH0qI/AAAAAAAACss/F6BTuGjcyhQqkQOq9XmFKRNY83ZUXiZEQCEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_2244.jpg" width="150" /></a>Making rolls is a great way to start learning to make sushi. Let's be real, you're not making it as much ass assembling it. In that way, it is a lot like making burritos. A good burrito is all about making the fillings well and then hoping it all stays inside the tortilla. For sushi rolls, you have to make sure you get the rice right, some vinegar in the rice cooker does the trick. Don't ask me how much, look it up. All I can tell you is, some.<br />
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For all rolls, cover your sushi roller with plastic wrap. keep a small bowl of water near by to keep your fingers damp, which helps keep the rice from sticking to you. The plastic wrap can be used to keep your sushi wrapped and for storage if you plan to eat it later rather than right away.<br />
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For the filling, we cut the cucumber, avocado and salmon into thins strips.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tQ9LxJhupck/XeByDpOldHI/AAAAAAAACsk/8P_dX-D_p5skwf2wVN18nklR2fv8lQuuwCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tQ9LxJhupck/XeByDpOldHI/AAAAAAAACsk/8P_dX-D_p5skwf2wVN18nklR2fv8lQuuwCEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_2243.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ms6A4pmjpHo/XeByEhzi1eI/AAAAAAAACsw/jt0aWrtw6dIQa9PgsMKxYKAkNCv6X3QqwCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ms6A4pmjpHo/XeByEhzi1eI/AAAAAAAACsw/jt0aWrtw6dIQa9PgsMKxYKAkNCv6X3QqwCEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_2247.jpg" width="150" /></a>For uramaki (rice on the outside) you use a half sheet of nori. Cover it completely with rice, then add toppings if you want. We put on sesame seeds.<br />
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Next you flip over the nori and put in your fillings. Here we have the raw salmon, avocado and cucumber.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KdUyQYOw_nc/XeByEo_aDWI/AAAAAAAACss/DXTqQkUJ_v8qhiomutoDdyPUN6zndu2hwCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KdUyQYOw_nc/XeByEo_aDWI/AAAAAAAACss/DXTqQkUJ_v8qhiomutoDdyPUN6zndu2hwCEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_2246.jpg" width="150" /></a>Next comes the rolling, and like the burrito, it's the hardest part. You need to roll it tight and you need to try to get it to stay rolled. We got better over the course of the four rolls, but we never got great at it.<br />
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I found that the uramaki keeps its shape the best because you're not relying on the nori to stay rolled up on its own.<br />
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<b>Futomaki:</b><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C82dTiJEsJY/XeByDTY4RjI/AAAAAAAACsk/_hXxadmAWNIZ6wS-lvr-Rv-wWkT5xNengCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C82dTiJEsJY/XeByDTY4RjI/AAAAAAAACsk/_hXxadmAWNIZ6wS-lvr-Rv-wWkT5xNengCEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_2239.jpg" width="150" /></a>This one was harder to get right. The basics are the same as the uramaki, but without flipping the nori. It's also thicker and more prone to having the filling squish out when you roll it. For the futomaki (rice on the outside), you just put everything down on the same side. Instead of spreading the rice to the edges, you leave about an inch of bare nori at the top. People who have made hand rolled cigarettes will recognize why we're leaving that inch up top. Once all your fillings are in, roll it like you did the uramaki, but you will likely have to pause to make sure you don't roll your bamboo roller into the sushi. That makes the technique a little different. when you reach the last inch, use your water to dampen the nori and seal it up. Our wraps weren't really tight enough and trying to re-roll them made things worse, not better. Still they looked nice on the plate before I cut them.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o1rF7rIO-xw/XeByFrjuEpI/AAAAAAAACss/ete7pnsLJUIaFGDNJu0mgJspMJOLRjz6ACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o1rF7rIO-xw/XeByFrjuEpI/AAAAAAAACss/ete7pnsLJUIaFGDNJu0mgJspMJOLRjz6ACEwYBhgL/s640/IMG_2251.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j8Iugdprfzs/XeByFkNodKI/AAAAAAAACsw/AALhnDSiOAoswvcxgQb7OXihW81yVEEuQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j8Iugdprfzs/XeByFkNodKI/AAAAAAAACsw/AALhnDSiOAoswvcxgQb7OXihW81yVEEuQCEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_2253.jpg" width="200" /></a>You can see, I tried making one with salmon on the outside like one often sees. It worked out pretty well. Cutting them into slices was tough until I remembered we had been given a sushi knife for Christmas a couple years ago, but had never used it. Having a fresh, sharp knife helped, but the lack of structural integrity of the rolls was clearly evident. They fell apart, especially the futomaki. But they were delicious.<br />
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So maybe I didn't make a whole dinner here. It could have been. There was enough to make a meal. This was a side dish for Japanese-American Thanksgiving. My mom, who for many years tried to convince us to BBQ a salmon rather than make turkey, would have been proud. She also would have teased me for not following directions. I'm excited to try it again. So men, get out there and make dinner.<br />
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Want to know what National Whatever Day we're celebrating every day? Check out <a href="https://nationaltoday.com/" target="_blank">National Today</a> and find something to celebrate every day.Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-74389292240283823132019-11-15T16:39:00.000-05:002019-11-15T17:51:13.423-05:00Myles Garrett Fight a Teachable Moment<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gN9SptiFEG0" width="560"></iframe><br />
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My kids go to bed around 8:00pm. Occasionally they are allowed to stay up later depending on what's going on that night, a school event or a World Series game or what have you. Once they're in bed, we expect them to stay there unless they have to attend to some bodily function. Other reasons for getting up are generally met with skepticism and encouragement to get some rest.<br />
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Last night was a little different. I was happy when Buddy emerged from his room shortly after lights out complaining of an itchy foot. Something was unfolding on Thursday Night Football that I thought would be immediately applicable to his life.<br />
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Buddy has had the typical struggles at school with conflict resolution. Nothing extreme. Just the normal things you might expect from boys in public school, at least from my experience. Lately he's been dealing with some bullying and some peer pressure about "snitching." We've always told him to find an adult rather than get in a fight. Sadly, that message hasn't always been reinforced by the adults around him when he has sought their help. Instead, he has often been left to fend for himself, and then gotten reprimanded for his actions. Though all of that, we have encouraged him to find ways to avoid fighting. Specifically, we want him to extract himself from conflict as soon as he recognizes it. Argument getting heated? Walk away. Someone looking like they want to fight? Walk away. Someone getting physical? Defend yourself to the extent necessary to safely get away. The theme is that you are going to face points in any conflict where you can end it by disengaging and walking away instead of risking making things worse.<br />
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The problem is, he's a kid so it's hard for him to remember these things in the moment. Let's be real, a lot of adults, when faced with fight or flight, don't make the decision we'd all prefer. Add in the school environment and it becomes very difficult for kids to avoid conflict when it's thrust upon them.<br />
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The other factor is that while I don't want him fighting, I do think he's a allowed to defend himself and I don't want to hear complaints about how he does it. I have long held the belief that if you pick a fight with someone, you don't get to complain about their response. If there's an outcome to the fight that you feel would go too far, don't start the fight. I was one of the few people who wrote defending <a href="http://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2009/09/instant-reaction.html" target="_blank">LeGarrette Blount back in in 2009</a>. Don't bully people. Don't tease them every day until they explode. If you do, you need to accept that one day things may go very badly for you. I don't mean school shooters or anything that extreme, that's a whole other level that is way more layered than what I'm addressing here. I mean more the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvijyBIgazE" target="_blank">A Christmas Story</a> type of bullying and response.<br />
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So that's the background for last night when we saw a football fight unlike anything most of us have ever seen. I want to be clear, Myles Garrett should be suspended for at least the rest of this season and maybe more. When he is eligible, reinstatement should come with conditions like having taken and passed anger management training. What he did was inexcusable. At the same time, Mason Rudolph needs to take accountability for his part in the melee. It was Rupdolph who first went after Garrett's head and helmet, and it was Rudolph who pursued Garrett at a point where the fight could have been over.<br />
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It's this last point that I went over with Buddy. That there were several points during the altercation where each party faced a decision to let it end, or to keep fighting. In each instance, they made the wrong choice. Here's a breakdown of what I told him and how I think this fight provides a good teachable moment on de-escalation.<br />
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<b>Moment 1: The Tackle</b><br />
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It's not really a dirty tackle, but it continues on past the quarterback releasing the ball. He's not injured and it's a tackle, not a high impact hit. It's not late, Garrett simply finishes the play. You can see why Rudolph might be annoyed, but there's nothing to get super angry about. It seems like Rudolph's reaction has more to do with previous hits to Steelers players and Rudolph's own frustration with throwing four interceptions. It could have been over right here with no fight at all, but Rudolph lost his cool.<br />
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<b>Moment 2: Rudolph's Poor Choice</b><br />
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So the tackle is over and Mason Rudolph, with less than 30 seconds left in the game, has a choice. He can get up and maybe voice his displeasure at the tackle, letting the clock run and mercifully ending the game, or trying to rip Garrett's helmet off. He goes for the latter. This is a bad idea for many reasons. One of those reasons is that Garrett is much bigger an much more used to hitting people than is Rudolph.<br />
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<b>Moment 3: Garrett Retaliates</b><br />
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At this point Garrett is able to extract himself with head and helmet still attached to his shoulders. Unscathed, Garrett could have gotten up, done a little dance or whatever defensive players like to do after getting to the QB and let the clock run out. Instead, Garrett decides to show Rudolph how pulling off a helmet should go. He picks Rudolph up by the face mask, then throws him back down and comes away with the helmet.<br />
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<b>Moment 4: Rudolph the Helmetless QB Can't Take a Hint</b><br />
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At this point the scuffle is effectively broken up. #66 David DeCastro and #71 Matt Feiler have Garrett locked up and are between him and Rudolph. Rudolph is again faced with a choice. Because the ball was thrown across the field and because Garrett's retaliation was so visible, there's a chance Rudolph's initial action went unnoticed, or will be overlooked. If he stops now, it's a penalty against Cleveland or at worst, offsetting penalties and the game likely ends on the next play. Instead, having a bad day in which he could not prove his skill throwing a football, he decides to prove he's a tough guy. Again, this is a monumentally bad idea for several reasons, not the least of which is that he's deciding to go after the much bigger man who just tackled him and then won the ensuing helmet-pull-off competition. It also misses an opportunity to end the altercation before it gets worse for everyone. This is the big point here. Each of these moments are opportunities to end things before they get worse.<br />
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<b>Moment 5: Garrett Does the Unthinkable</b><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DXrcCzfnQjg/Xc73PsV1zsI/AAAAAAAACqM/YPc5CZ-W8NcfJnmPFv1tTc6m0ZrQlFB_gCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_2182.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1334" height="223" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DXrcCzfnQjg/Xc73PsV1zsI/AAAAAAAACqM/YPc5CZ-W8NcfJnmPFv1tTc6m0ZrQlFB_gCEwYBhgL/s400/IMG_2182.PNG" width="400" /></a>Fueled by anger and frustration, and perhaps emboldened by the two 300 pound men between him and his target, Rudolph decides to go after Garrett. Maybe he just wants to talk. Garrett is now faced with his own decision. He could drop the helmet and walk away. He could throw the helmet down field like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfLLDY8OdzM" target="_blank">Kyle Turley</a>. He could have done literally anything other than what he did and this story might be over in 24-hours. Instead, he decides to use the helmet as a weapon and club Rudolph in the head. It's completely over the top. It's completely uncalled for. It's shocking. But it's not a complete surprise given how things had been escalating. I'll emphasize again, there's no way Garrett should have swung that helmet. There's no defense for it. At the same time, both players had multiple opportunities to walk away. By not taking those opportunities, they both bear some responsibility for what happened.<br />
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After all this, Rudolph's teammates subdued Garrett by punching him in and near the face mask several times, pinning him to the ground and then kicking and punching him in the head. Rudolph continued to half heartedly pursue the scuffle until being knocked down again by one of Garrett's teammates. Garrett, his teammate and the Steelers player who kicked Garrett in the head have <a href="https://www.espn.com/nfl/story/_/id/28087446/browns-myles-garrett-suspended-indefinitely-steelers-maurkice-pouncey-gets-3-game-ban" target="_blank">all been suspended</a>. Garrett is out for at least the rest of the season and possibly longer. For now, Rudolph has escaped a suspension but is likely to be fined.<br />
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As a parent, the lesson here is that in any conflict there are always opportunities to walk away. There is almost always an out. It may not feel great in the moment. You might feel like you're being a punk or losing face. Those are temporary feelings. If you can look past the moment and think even briefly about the possible consequences of your next action, you'll be able to avoid a lot of potential trouble. Continuing to fight in that moment rarely leads to a real win, but could end up with long term negative consequences.<br />
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I was satisfied that I had an opportunity to share this lesson with my son in that moment. I hope he can use it today at school. I want him to understand and recognize all the times he doesn't have to fight. Part of that is to keep him safe and on the right side of society. Part of it so I know I can back him up and trust him when he feels like does have to fight, though I hope that never happens.<br />
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As is often the case, after he went back to bed I realized that the same lesson applies to all of us in all of our relationships, that I need to apply this same lesson when I'm frustrated with a kid who won't clean up or is refusing to brush their teeth. I need to be able to see where I'm letting my bad day or my need to be in charge lead me down a destructive path. There's no chance of me hitting them, but I don't want to say things or behave in ways that could damage our relationship long term.<br />
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Myles Garrett's actions last night were terrible, but hopefully it's something we can all learn from.Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-38368832657449250232019-09-30T19:20:00.002-04:002021-09-24T16:38:30.576-04:00Home Sweet Homefield<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It a dump. It's a sewer. It's old. It's ugly. It's cramped. There's an infield on the football field. There's football lines in the outfield.<br />
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The complaints about the Oakland Alameda County Ring Central MacAfee Network Associates O Dot Coliseum are numerous and well known. It was one of the last cookie cutter stadiums of the 1960s. Built to house multiple sports, it's the last multi-use facility still home to both a major league baseball team and an NFL football team. The football team that shall not be named is leaving next year, but the stadium will remain largely the same, still encumbered but the monstrosity in center field that ruined the park's aesthetic and its wind patterns. The A's, the buildings last tenant, have done a lot to improve the park over the last couple years, but the reputation remains.<br />
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I remember the Coli the way it was. I'll never forget walking across the bridge from the train the first time. I was somewhere between 4 and 5 years old. Before the monstrosity, there was just a simple chainlink fence across center field. To prevent people from watching for free, the fence had those long plastic slats pushed through the chainlink so that you could only see the field if you walked by really fast. The effect was similar to a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zoetrope" target="_blank">Zoetrope</a>. You could see the players warming up on the field but the frame rate was so slow that they looked like films of ball players from the 1920s.<br />
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That fence was a time machine connecting baseball's past with its present in the mind of a small boy.<br />
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It was magic.<br />
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That was 1981 and I've been coming to the grey lady ever since. After my dad left, I went with my mom during the heady and wonderful Haas years. I fell in love with Mac, Canseco and Walt Weiss. I was crazy about Rickey. I liked that Carney Lansford looked like an actual carney. I always wanted a batting helmet with a huge jaw guard like Terry Steinbach wore. I remember that my biggest take away from the 1989 World Series is that its existence likely saved my mom from being on the collapsed Cypress Freeway the day of the earthquake. She had elected to work late in San Francisco to avoid traffic. Like a great many others who made the same choice, baseball may have literally saved their lives.<br />
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My mom wasn't really a fan. She took me to games because it was something to do. She liked going, but didn't know anything about the game. I remember throwing a tantrum one time on the train because there were no seats. I don't know why I was so worked up. Even in the moment I couldn't figure out why I was so desperate for a seat near a window, but I also couldn't stop myself. Being a kid can be really weird. I did not get a malt cup that day, and I learned to stand on the train in silence.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5UpqNyczVLw/XZKJi3YSQyI/AAAAAAAACkc/omyT3Idvo2UbXey5TjbC_SfmlfY1bxhkwCEwYBhgL/s1600/70315262_10157539471129889_7196281403107966976_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5UpqNyczVLw/XZKJi3YSQyI/AAAAAAAACkc/omyT3Idvo2UbXey5TjbC_SfmlfY1bxhkwCEwYBhgL/s320/70315262_10157539471129889_7196281403107966976_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>My grandmother was the opposite of my mom. She was a fan, knew all the players, looked up the box scores each day and listened to games on the radio, but she never went. She would get free tickets at the senior center and give them me and my best friend. She'd drop us off at the gate with $5 each for malts and a soda. Then he and I, all of 10 and 8 years of age, would go in and spend four hours on our own. We would sit in the nearly empty third deck and when the soda was gone and the ice was gone and the sun was beating down, we'd fill the cups up with water from the fountain, return to our seats and dump 32oz over our heads. We never thought to try to move down to better seats. Grandma would listen on the radio and at the bottom of the 8th, she'd drive back to the Coli to pick us up. It wasn't until 2001 when my grandmother finally attended her first game since the Charlie Finley era. We put her in the wheel chair and pushed her up to the 300s for game 3 of the 2001 ALDS. <a href="https://www.foxsports.com/mlb/story/derek-jeter-flip-new-york-yankees-oakland-as-alds-101316" target="_blank">The Jeter Flip Game</a>. As 45,000 people went from manic frenzy to dead silent I told her, "Well grandma, you picked a hell of a game to come out to. People are going to talk about that forever."<br />
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When I was a 19 year old college student looking for a way to connect with my 6 year old brother, I brought him to baseball games. It became our thing and for years we never missed an opening day. Our best year, we made it to over 40 ball games. During that time the coliseum was my refuge. When I had an afternoon to myself, or if I needed to escape and be alone, I'd head to a game. It was a great place to be anonymously social. You could almost always find someone to chat with, or you could sit with your headphones on and listen to Bill and Ken describe the action. I got to know the some of the vendors, particularly Joyce who ran the Pyramid Ales stand on the main concourse. I worked for Pyramid at the time, so I always liked chatting with Joyce and grabbing a familiar beer.<br />
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Much later, I started bringing my family to games. When I was teaching and had summers off we made a habit of attending a couple games every home stand. It got to the point where my kids felt so at home, they'd run off as soon as we got through the gates. It took a few talking to's and a few tears for them to understand that even though it was familiar, it was still a big public place full of people we don't know. But I was thrilled that they felt so welcome and at ease in this place I'd been frequenting since I was their age. They love game days. Some of it is the baseball. Some of it is being together as a family. A lot of it is knowing that "ballpark rules" apply and they're going to get some kind of treat, usually a malt cup or cotton candy.<br />
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We got season tickets this year. <a href="https://www.sfchronicle.com/sports/article/Will-A-s-innovative-access-program-help-fill-up-13149792.php" target="_blank">It's the first time I've had season tickets to anything</a>. It's been everything I'd hoped. We had a great time going to games and the A's made the playoffs. On Wednesday, Buddy and I will attend the first home playoff game I've been to since Jeremy didn't slide. I wish I could have captured his reaction when I told him. He has no idea that the coliseum is ragged. He's been to a few stadiums, but he's never complained about Oakland. All he sees are the improvements and the opportunity to hang out with his friends and family.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-liVNYR3jE38/XZKJgttDFWI/AAAAAAAACkg/9Mx2wHOktWgyZFinjjLA-uRtmZityTokACEwYBhgL/s1600/19601577_10155477361214889_7163227209569006860_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-liVNYR3jE38/XZKJgttDFWI/AAAAAAAACkg/9Mx2wHOktWgyZFinjjLA-uRtmZityTokACEwYBhgL/s200/19601577_10155477361214889_7163227209569006860_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>My house is 96 years old. The floors need work. The water pressure is unreliable. There's mold on the back wall. The windows all need to be replaced. It's a mess because we have three kids and two old dogs and two working parents and everything that comes with all of that. It's not a beautiful house, but it's the one I want to live in because it's home. The Coli was built in 1966 and it still works for me. I know there's fans who feel differently. The team wants a new stadium and they're working on getting one, though that's a whole other ordeal. For teams, stadiums are less about places to play and more about real estate development in the surrounding area. The players probably want a new home. I hear the locker rooms and training rooms are the really out dated parts of the building. I've only seen glimpses, but it does seem a bit dreary.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SwjS5bHKEHQ/XZKJiUSe35I/AAAAAAAACkg/ZJ8HTrsx_BIZ4tfPqQrT-ZyE2m9W4kgDQCEwYBhgL/s1600/70311530_10157539449749889_2310252626366693376_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="868" data-original-width="960" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SwjS5bHKEHQ/XZKJiUSe35I/AAAAAAAACkg/ZJ8HTrsx_BIZ4tfPqQrT-ZyE2m9W4kgDQCEwYBhgL/s200/70311530_10157539449749889_2310252626366693376_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>I want the players to be happy. I want my fellow fans to be happy.<br />
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For me though, I don't need a new stadium. I've been to a lot of parks. Some major league, some minor league. They all have basically the same plastic seats and the same types of concessions. The prices vary, but the views are largely the same. Once I sit down, I could be anywhere and the surrounding structure fades into the background. Whenever the new place is built, I'm sure I'll enjoy it. I'll go to the park and marvel at its newness and its amenities. I'll look forward to seeing the fans with whom I've developed friendships. I'll sing the songs and drink the beer and hope I still get to see Joyce. It will be nice, but it won't be home. Home will always be that dingy old concrete mausoleum where I was allowed to run free and then eventually let my kids do the same.<br />
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If home is where the heart is, then mine will always reside at 7000 Coliseum Way, just over the BART bridge. Where you can forever enjoy "beer while you're walkin', beer while you're talkin'," and it always smells like bacon wrapped sausage.<br />
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</div>Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-1384452171862872452019-06-26T18:43:00.000-04:002019-06-26T20:58:08.041-04:00It's OK to Love a Sports Writer<span id="goog_982687027"></span><span id="goog_982687028"></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I couldn't find a relevant banner photo, so I'm using this one because we look happy.</td></tr>
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I had a cool experience recently. My sports fan alter ego on Twitter (<a href="https://twitter.com/RallyLamb" target="_blank">@RallyLamb</a>) has been slowly picking up traction. I set up the account because I wanted to interact with local sports fans, but I didn't want those of you who follow me for my writing on parenting to suddenly get hit with 100 hot takes per game for 162 baseball games. On a summer evening last year, I got an alert that made my heart jump a bit. My favorite sports writer, Susan Slusser followed me. Look, it’s a small thing, but it’s one of the reasons I do any of this. I don’t make much money from writing. I started because I just needed to do it, it’s my heritage. Later, as I gained a small audience I was motivated by the opportunities I had to <a href="https://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2018/02/hanging-with-ronnie-lott-and-von-miller.html" target="_blank">meet cool people</a> and <a href="https://www.aninterdisciplinarylife.com/2016/02/chasing-your-dreams.html" target="_blank">do cool stuff</a>. Being followed by a writer I’ve been reading for over twenty years, less than four months into creating this account, was pretty cool. Then I saw that I had a DM, “Hi there, I’m looking for people to talk to for a story on the new ticket strategy and liked your response - would you be ok with a quick interview by phone?”<br />
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Dude! <a href="https://twitter.com/susanslusser" target="_blank">Susan Slusser</a> wanted to talk to me for a story! I was in the driveway at the time and my wife came out to the front porch like, “Hey, why are you dancing?” Uh, because I’m going to get to talk to Susan Slusser, that’s why. (I had also gotten an RT from Dan Szymborski at the same moment so I was definitely winning Twitter that day.)<br />
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I forget how long it was until we did the interview. I know I spent the whole time rehearsing and editing my fan boy speech. I wanted to let her know how much her writing had meant to me over the years. How much I appreciated her work during the Twitter era, during most of which I was an out of market fan and relied on her reporting as my lifeline to the team. Once the interview was done, I half asked/half warned her that I was going to geek out for second. I told her about how much I respected her work and her career, she had also been president of the Baseball Writers Association of America (the people who vote on the Hall of Fame). I worry now that maybe I was being presumptuous of her experience, because I talked about how part of my admiration was due to my mom having been a journalist and knowing what she went through and how much harder I thought that might be in sports. I talked about how I thought it was super cool that my home team had four women covering them regularly (shout out Ann Killion, Melissa Lockard and Jane Lee). Maybe I over did it on the rah-rah women in sports feminism, but I was feeling it and I didn’t know if I’d ever have another chance to let her know how cool she is.<br />
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I guess I did OK as an interview subject. Susan (I call her that because according to my son, we are now close personal friends) sent me a message to let me know I’d be featured in the article. I was happy, but didn’t expect <a href="https://www.sfchronicle.com/sports/article/Will-A-s-innovative-access-program-help-fill-up-13149792.php" target="_blank">the first sentence to read</a>, “As a sign-language interpreter and teacher with three children, Roberto Santiago figured season tickets for a sports team would be out of his reach.” So yeah, that was really cool. <br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3647964743992234088" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3647964743992234088" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Over the course of the season we tried to find a time to meet in person, but it never worked out. After all, when she’s at the game, she’s at work. It’s hard to visit anyone at work and I never wanted to be a bother. We were finally able to make it happen this season. Again, I didn’t want to bother her, or act like she owed me her time so I waited until I had a copy of <a href="https://www.ebbooksellers.com/event/susan-slusser-ken-korach-if-these-walls-could-talk" target="_blank">her recent book</a> so that when I reached out, I could at least show that I was supporting the cause. Yes, it’s still asking for her time while she’s working, but at least it’s a conversation starter.<br />
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She came down to the concourse to meet Buddy and I between innings. She was gracious and just as cool as she seems. I grew up around notable people, mostly writers and musicians, but I still get a little giddy meeting someone for the first time after reading them for so long. It was after this meeting that my son went on a routine about how we were all now totes BFFs and we should expect Susan at pizza night. He’s hilarious that way.<br />
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One thing that stands out for me in this experience is how we see sports writers and how they see themselves. Along with the book, I asked Susan to sign a baseball. She said she doesn’t like signing balls, that it seems weird because she doesn’t play. She agreed to sign for me because I’d also had the book. (See, I knew having the book as an opener was a good call). Throughout this whole experience, I kept thinking about the Seinfeld episode where George is asked who he reads.<br />
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<b>Mr. Lippman</b>: Who do you read?<br />
<b>George</b>: I like Mike Lupica.<br />
<b>Mr. Lippman</b>: Mike Lupica?</blockquote>
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<b>George</b>: He’s a sports writer for the Daily News. I find him very insightful…</blockquote>
<b>Mr. Lippman</b>: No, no, no. I mean authors.<br />
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I always loved this scene because of how it depicts the difference between what “literary” people consider writing, and what people who read consider writing. My favorite “authors” are mostly academics. Have you read any <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dorothy_E._Smith" target="_blank">Dorothy Smith</a> or <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Labov" target="_blank">William Labov</a>? They rule. But if you ask me who I like to read, it’s a lot of sports writers. I’m super into Bill Barnwell. I really like reading Zach Lowe’s breakdowns of specific plays. I am dependent on Susan Slusser to keep me connected to the A’s. This was especially true when I lived in D.C. The A’s don’t get a ton of national attention even when they’re good, so it was Slusser and SFGate.com that kept me up on my home team. Most years I’d send a tweet to her at the end of the season thanking her for helping us transplanted fans stay abreast.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-10ipWCvDcFQ/XRPxY9J_7tI/AAAAAAAACdc/NzmVhR-Vpm4p11NaQ51nqBOyt5TWI079ACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_1378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-10ipWCvDcFQ/XRPxY9J_7tI/AAAAAAAACdc/NzmVhR-Vpm4p11NaQ51nqBOyt5TWI079ACEwYBhgL/s200/IMG_1378.jpg" width="150" /></a>So right, she doesn’t play. She’s never taken a swing or recorded an out for the team. But to us fans, she’s as much the face or voice of the team as any player or manager. Really, she’s been even more a part of our experience of the team than any of the PsTBNL or managers who are hired to be fired. Slusser has been with us for twenty years. Can we say that about anyone associated with team other than Ken Korach or Billy Beane? Sure, the reporter isn’t the story. It’s only recently that journalists have become personalities, and even then that’s mostly screamers on TV. So no, we don’t know Susan Slusser outside of the glimpses we get through social media. We know a hell of a lot about the A’s because of her reporting, and I think it’s folly to try to completely separate the story form the story teller. In many ways, Susan Slusser<i> is</i> the A’s for us because she’s the source of most of our information about what’s happening with the team. So for me, meeting her was just as exciting as meeting any player past or present. <br />
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Susan Slusser is one of my favorite writers, and that’s as legit as anything else. <br />
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Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3647964743992234088.post-28125181105450512862019-06-14T12:36:00.002-04:002019-06-14T12:37:12.175-04:00Dignity in Defeat: Beyond Sports Hot Takes<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D2RX11-vy6Y/XQPKxSGFCCI/AAAAAAAACb4/nsJJLkQT9VM7UH5unIkcyx6pafWkrxYuQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_8441.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D2RX11-vy6Y/XQPKxSGFCCI/AAAAAAAACb4/nsJJLkQT9VM7UH5unIkcyx6pafWkrxYuQCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_8441.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Graphic courtesy of <a href="https://www.peopleschoiceprinting.com/" target="_blank">People's Choice Printing</a></td></tr>
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9.6 Seconds</div>
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That’s how much time was left on the clock when the Warriors called their last time out. Somehow, someway they had managed to force a turnover down just one point with the season on the line. As they huddled up to discuss what might be the game’s final play, I looked at my son and thought about what I wanted him to know in that moment.</div>
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It had been a tough series for the Warriors. Kevin Durant, one of the best players in the game had played only 12 minutes in 5 gam<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">es and was out again, this time for good. Klay Thompson, the cool hand Splash Brother who had put up 30 points was out with a serious knee injury. Gritty big man Kevon Looney had played three games with torn cartilage in his ribs. But here they were, with a chance to win or go home and the best shooter in the world at the ready.</span></div>
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On the broadcast they put up a graphic showing that Curry was 0 for his life on game winning shots in the last :20 of regulation. Winning this game was less than certain. If they lost, how could I soften the blow for my son?</div>
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He looked panic stricken. “Hey, Bud.” I said, “Isn’t this cool?” I was channeling Joe Montana during the last time out of the 1981 NFC Championship game. He looked unsure. “I mean look, no matter what happens on the next play, we’ve seen an amazing series. And this is what sports fandom is about. It’s not just about the plays or the wins and losses, it’s about right now. It’s the anticipation of this moment, not knowing what will happen. It’s about possibly seeing something amazing, and hoping for a miracle. Think about how you feel right now, the tingle. We might be about to see an amazing shot that sends us to game 7. Or we might see the season end with a clank. But whichever it is, we get this moment right now.”</div>
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And it’s true. Being a fan means experiencing more disappointment then elation over a lifetime. Your team can’t win a championship every year. In every season there’s 29 to 31 fan bases that don’t get what they hoped for. But winning really isn’t everything. The chance to see something inspiring is what makes even the losses worth watching. Sports isn’t just Twitter hot takes and bragging rights. It’s about having 9.6 seconds to dream of the impossible.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">IDL and Lou at a Warriors game in November 2018</td></tr>
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Bertohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08798563985886520384noreply@blogger.com0