The little piece of tape that connects a father and son

It's been at least 20 years, but that little piece of tape is still stuck just inside the top drawer of my desk.
It's brittle and yellowish now, but somehow it's still stuck there, right where I put it years ago, sometime after my oldest son went in for surgery on his wrist.
Because I'm a father, not a mother, I can't remember when it happened, nor do I recall all the specifics of it, like how old he was or how long the surgery lasted. But I do remember him going into the hospital that day.

Do something nice for someone, evebody wins

Because I tend to watch a lot of sports on television, I see a great many commercials. Now, like many of you, I often get up to grab a snack or, um, visit the little room down the hall during those breaks in the action. Sometimes, though, I just sit there watching and waiting for the game to come back on.
Hey, I'm a guy. I'm not that complicated. If the game's on, I'm not hungry or I don't need to, you know, visit the little room down the hall, I'll just sit there with a stupid look on my face, thinking about, well, nothing in particular.
The other day I was cemented to my easy chair and saw a commercial for an insurance company (what are the chances, right?) . I'm guessing you've seen it, too. It's not the one with that goofy chick, Flo, or the one with the talking lizard (I know, I know, it's not a lizard). It was a serious one that shows a woman witnessing someone doing a good deed for her. Then she, in turn, does a good deed for someone else, who does a good deed for someone else ... and so on, and so on.
I think they call that "paying it forward."

Advice for new parents: Don't stress out over that fussing baby

As a young father, the thought of going out to dinner with my child in tow was enough to make me lose my appetite. I mean, it really made me cringe.
Of course it was a chore to haul around his extra supplies: diaper bag, the baby blue coat we used to cram him into, the hat we'd put on his head, the car seat, etc. But the most unnerving thing about taking him to a restaurant was the threat of him fussing and ultimately disrupting everybody around us.
Like most parents, we usually got a babysitter, but on those occasions when we couldn't find one, we'd bring him along with us. As I recall, he was usually a pretty good baby. But I distinctly remember a few occasions when he got upset, began crying and ruined the experience. One of us would have to take him out and the other, feeling guilty, would usually follow (because who wants to sit there and eat alone, anyway).
Okay, now you're asking, why am I broaching this subject? I mean, I'm the guy who blogs about being a middle-aged father whose kids are all but grown up, why am I writing about fussing babies in restaurants?

The thin line between Smartphones and dumb people

My cell phone isn't very smart. In fact, it's pretty dumb.
On the other hand, "dumb" doesn't necessarily mean "useless," so I suppose I'll keep on using my Samsung Whatever It's Called and I'll keep on giving my upgrades to my wife and kids. After all, it still makes and receives calls; it sends and receives texts and it even flips up and turns into a keyboard, so texting is that much easier.
Basically, it's got everything I need, or more importantly, it lacks all the bells and whistles I don't need.
Fair warning, folks: here's the part of the blog where I lapse into old man mode. Continue reading at your own risk.

Sometimes what happens in Vegas is a story worth telling

They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but I'm here to blow the lid off that notion. The fact is, a funny experience happened to me in Las Vegas several years ago and I've told the story about a million times.
Of course I've never told it here, so maybe it doesn't count.
Here's what happened:
Many years ago (I honestly can't remember the year) I took a work trip to Vegas. If memory serves (and these days it doesn't) I was there to cover a college basketball tournament of some sort.
Anyway, while I was there I bumped into a couple of kids from one of the schools playing in the tournament. They were student journalists working for the campus newspaper and it was obvious they were thrilled to be on a roadtrip to Vegas.

Welcome to the Father of Twins Club

One of the last things I want to do here in my blog is mix my work life with my real life. Admittedly, my work life as a sportswriter is a lot of fun and I know a great many people who'd love to have my job. However, I've made a conscious effort to keep that part of my life out of my blog, partly because I enjoy using this place to write about the ups and downs of being a middle-aged husband, father, son, brother and friend. Also, it's not appropriate for me to share information I gather at work here in my personal blog.
Okay, we're clear on all that, right?

Turn off the music and talk to your kid? Sometimes it's better to just "Let It Be"

So, the other day I decided to take my teenage son, Mr. Smarty Pants, with me on a work assignment. During the 30 minute drive, I put my iPod on a 60s/70s music mix I'd created a long time ago.
Now, I realize this doesn't look good. A good father is a good communicator, after all. And with 30 uninterrupted minutes to spend together, I probably should have used the time to have a nice heart-to-heart chat with my boy.
In theory, that's what I should have done.
In practice, I think the music was every bit as rewarding.
See, young Mr. Smarty Pants is the youngest in our family and as such, he's been influenced from many different directions.

Warning: Mothers and practical jokes don't always mix

Someday he'll learn it's never a good idea to poke at a sick mother bear; but for the time being our little teenage cub thinks he's pretty funny.
Of coruse since he's really not that much different than I was at the same age, I had to chuckle at my son's silly antics earlier this evening.
Here's what happened: