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: