Ode to My Dad

I know I'm late with this, but better late then never..... :)


Before there was Google, there was my dad; a walking, talking fount of knowledge, who knew everything about anything. And because of this my dad has taught me many things in this life such as....

1. Big words

My dad's vocabulary is immense, and he never watered things down for us kids, so we learned all sorts of scientific terms before entering first-grade. However, I'm going to have to admit that my favorite vocabulary lessons were tied to insult wars with my brothers.

"Dad, I’ve called him a neanderthal, amoeba, and protozoa. I need a new one."

"How about a nudibranch?"

"Right, Rob you’re a……wait, dad, what’s a nudibranch?"

"A sea slug."

"Rob you’re SUCH a nudibranch."

2. If you can do it yourself, then you should

It is thanks to my dad that I know how to install dry-wall, own a drill, and will usually try to fix things myself before calling the landlord or even the attractive neighbor (who I will always call before the landlord). Growing up if there was a project that needed doing--finishing the basement, fixing the car, installing the air-conditioner--my dad would enlist one or more of us to help. This went for more unusual projects too like the summer he helped the scouts in the neighborhood make their own kayaks out of wood, canvas, and a lot of oil-based paint. Since I was the same age as the scouts, I may have been a little more willing to help with this particular project. :)

See they even floated

3. Don't forget to laugh

My dad taught me how to laugh. Infact I have his laugh. It’s one of those laughs that comes from your toes, resonates through your entire body, and makes everyone in the movie theater turn around a look at you.

And there was a plethora of opportunities to hone my laughing skills growing up thanks to my dad’s teasings, the occasional tickle-torture, his silly sayings (I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m just glad elephants don’t swear), and his tendency to hum non-existent tunes. I am a firm believer that a family that laughs together stays together, and based on that, my family is stuck with each other for forever. :)

4. Clothing is mandatory, fashion is optional

For much of my childhood my dad's standard outfit consisted of green jeans and a button up short-sleeved shirt complete with pocket protector filled with mechanical pencils and a fountain pen. His hair was always a tidy buzz cut, not because of any military service but because it was easier (though I also think he liked that it intimidated any would-be suitors for my sisters and myself). But from my dad's sense of style, I learned that it didn't matter what you wear or what hairstyle you sport; just find something that's right for you and wear it proud. It also helps if you scowl at any would be scoffers. :)

Dad demonstrating a picture perfect scowl

So in honor of Father's Day I wanted to thank you, Dad. Thank you for teaching me to think, learn, and laugh. I couldn't have made it to adulthood without you. :)

Mono e Mono

Mononucleosis: (aka Mono, The Kissing Disease) Most commonly found in the high school and college student populations. Notoriously spread through mouth to mouth, saliva swapping.

So why am I blogging about it? Because I am currently the proprietor of Hotel Mono. You heard me right. I have finally caught the stupid disease that should have come and gone over a decade ago.

What causes Mono? That would be this little cutie:

The Epstein-Barr Virus

I actually own this giant plush microbe, so I suppose you could say I've had mono for quite awhile. I just had evaded infection until now.

The symptoms are varied, but one of the more common and annoying is the sore throat. It feels like I've gargled a mixture that's equal parts sand, rock salt, vinegar, and cactus prickles. This morning I foolishly examined my throat in a magnified mirror with a flashlight; I saw something like this:


It's as bad as it looks, and that's what finally got me to go to the doctor. I had my fingers crossed for strep, but alas, it turns out crossing one's fingers doesn't do much.

When the Doc looked in my mouth, all he could say was "Wow." Then he checked the lymph nodes in my neck; every last one of them was inflamed. Huh, I guess that's why my neck had been stiff for the last couple weeks.

Then there is that famous symptom, extreme fatigue. I should want to spend days, weeks, and years in bed, but I haven't cared much for sleep. In fact, I haven't cared much about anything. My fatigue has been more emotional than anything, leaving me with a low-grade depression. There's nothing worse than knowing you are fully capable and functional, yet completely apathetic to doing anything. Fortunately this symptom is subsiding.

The bad news is that there isn't much you can do for mono; it will run it's course in about 4 weeks. The good news is that I believe the symptoms, in their entirety, have been evident for about 2.5 weeks. So now all I have to do is sleep, drink fluids, take Advil for the swelling, and avoid kissing anyone. And if any prospective dates are reading this post right now, I won't have to worry about that last one.

Sadest Way to Lose a Friend

It was an ill-fated friendship; I'll give you that. Considering the amount of arguing we've done about religion over the last few months, I suppose it was bound to end this way, but it seems like such a ridiculous reason to end a friendship. Would you end a friendship because the other person refuses to see God, his scriptures, and his plan for the universe the same way you do? Neither would I. But there are others who feel like those are grounds for an old fashioned friendship execution.

Religion for me is a deeply personal thing. I believe what I believe, and it is founded upon my relationship with God. If any person is truly interested in knowing more about it, I would gladly expound upon it. Conversely if a person prefers to hear nothing about my beliefs, I will gladly keep them to myself. Because of this, I don't generally argue about religion. I just find it pointless, like a hamster wheel race to the death.

As I witnessed this terminal friendship gasp for one last breath during the final cardiac arrest, I felt helpless. What could I do? Deny my beliefs? Even to salvage a friendship? Alas, I could not. To deny my belief, is to deny a fundamental part of who I am.

I suppose I should feel fortunate. Just a few generations back my ancestors were chased from city to city and state to state, suffering death, torture, and prison for their beliefs. All I have to suffer is the unfortunate demise of a friendship. Yet somehow that doesn't make it less sucky. All the same, I respect each person's freedom to worship as they will, and if my friend feels that his belief precludes us from being friends, I must respect it and simply walk away, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.