Wake Me When September Ends

It’s funny what runs through your mind when you hear a song.  Especially a song that you associate with a time in your life that wasn’t very pleasant.

Wake Me When September Ends by Green Day has a special place in my heart.  I’ve been married…twice, divorced once.  I’m one of the two people that you know that got married that it didn’t work out for.  It sucked.  I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone that I know, regardless of whether I like them or not. To this day that life event is still one of the worst things to ever happen to me, and also one of the best all in the same breath.  It forced me to leave behind everything that I knew and called familiar and that scared the hell out of me.

I drove across the country to Green Day’s American Idiot album.  The pain and angst that oozes from their music on that album spoke to my sole.  It fueled me to keep driving away the pain.  I drove to California, and probably listened to that album 10 times over the course of those three days.  Wake Me When September Ends drew me in by the extreme pain Billie Joe exudes.  He’d rather sleep away a month of his life rather than have to deal with the pain.  I felt much the same way.

The meaning the song has to me, and the meaning that the video exhibit are on opposite ends of the spectrum.  They may not even be on the same page, but it's funny how a song means different things to different people.  Now that I’m happily re-mariried to the real love of my life, I don’t listen to this song very often.  When I do, it’s just to remind me of where I’ve been and where I’m going.

Sleigh Ride

One of the odd things about being a former band geek is the little things that you miss about being a band geek.  One of the things that I miss the most is the Christmas music.  In order to be fully prepared for your holiday concert as a band member, you usually started rehearsing Christmas music around Halloween, through the Thanksgiving holiday and then performances ensued during the first few weeks of December.

Funny, but it always put me more in the Christmas spirit.

I have a few songs that still stir my Christmas spirit up, but the one that I always enjoyed performing was always Sleigh Ride.  Hands down my favorite Christmas song.  Maybe it’s the horse whiney the trumpet player always does.  The crack of the whip, the clip clop of the wood blocks the percussionists play and the syncopated off beats that the alto voices play, it all makes it a magical song.

I hope that all of my readers, and most of you I know personally, are celebrating the season with those that you love.  Whether it be your first Christmas together as a new family; your umpteenth Christmas together with your aunts, brothers, cousins, grandparents, parents, sisters and uncles and other extended family; forging ahead as a young professional and celebrating with friends in a new city or you may not have someone to celebrate the season with.  I hope that isn’t the case, but if it is, know that I’ll be thinking of you on Christmas Day.

Because Christmas is the most special time of the year. 

Merry Christmas!

The Calm Before the Storm

So Kiwi and I are in unchartered waters.  Baby Razz is coming right along, but just isn’t quite ready to join us yet.  So we wait.  I feel like a kid at Christmas again, waiting on Santa Claus to come. Waiting is one of the things that I have the most trouble with in my day to day life.  I’ve gotten better over the years, but waiting for anything is still not my forte.

We’ve been trying to take advantage of this remaining “free time”, doing things that we know won’t be possible or easy when Baby Razz joins us.  Movies, going out to eat at restaurants that we enjoy, you know, the usual couple stuff.

I equate this waiting to hurricane preparation.  Regardless of how many batteries you buy, how much plywood you hang or number of sandbags you fill, you know that chaos is going to ensue.  It’s the adrenaline rush at its best.  The preparation excites you, but the unknown of what is on the cusp of happening is what really drives you. 

Raise your morning cup of coffee to the impending chaos.

Just Do It

Three little words that changed a generation.  Some executive marketing professional came up with this slogan to sell shoes, sweatshirts and anything else with a swoosh on it, and it worked to perfection.  By displaying their marketing genius and prowess, they crippled the generation they changed.

Very few people repair things anymore.  Some things it makes sense to just buy a new one, but as a whole in this country, we are too quick to run out and purchase something new as to repair what was broken.

It comes down to a lack of skills.  I went to my local Goodwill Retail Store today just to look around to see if I could save some money.  You know, we have a baby coming any day now and I want to try to do my part.  Anyways, I find this nice dress shirt.  Expensive retail name brand, no holes, no stains, it was even my size.  The only thing I could find wrong with it was it was missing a button...one lousy button.  Now, news flash here,  on most men’s dress shirts the manufacturer sews on at least one, if not two, extra buttons in case one happens to fall off.

Yeah, this shirt still had those buttons on, but presumably had been donated because of the missing button further up the front of the shirt.

Now you may be asking yourself what Nike’s iconic marketing slogan and a shirt that is missing a button from my local Goodwill Store have in common.  Somewhere along the line, someone forgot how or just didn’t care enough to save himself $30 and sew on a button with a .99 cent sewing kit that you can get at your local convenience store.

There is this thing called Google that can pretty much help you figure out how to do most anything you’ll encounter on any given day.  Maybe it’s my work ethic or that I grew up on a farm.  Maybe it’s because I just don’t like asking for help, but I go out of my way to figure out things.  From the kitchen to my car, a sewing issue or a home improvement project, I take pride in rolling up my sleeves and…well, you know, just doing it.

Dream On

Song #3 in my ultimate box set playlist comes to you from 1992, at least that was when i was first introduced. I was a junior in high school and in the midst of forming my complex simplistic music listening habits.  As a 16 year old trumpet player in my high school band, cool points were few and far between.  Awkwardness was a daily visitor in my world.

Aerosmith had released Livin’ On the Edge around that time.  It was one of the hot records of the year, and of course I was a fan.   There was a mother of a fellow band member who was a single mom, full time student that turned out to be a great friend.  She knew and understood the awkward time period that high school and being a teenager presented.

She gave me one of the greatest gifts I have ever received.  Aerosmith’s original 45 self titled album.  There was Steven Tyler in all his 1970’s glory.  Pimply faced, gangly and as awkward as I was.  I was hooked.  Dream On had me enthralled.  I made a cassette tape of that album and wore it out in the tape deck of my car.  I had a ravenous appetite for old school Aerosmith.  Dream On started it all for me.  I’m forever grateful.

The Name Dilemma

So Kiwi and I took a bit of an unorthodox approach to the naming of Razz.  We have already picked out what his God given name will be, we just haven’t released that information to the authorities.  There is so much that goes into the naming of a new person.  Is the name we’ve picked out appropriate for the personality of our son?  Will his name be made fun of by his peers?  Will it properly honor his heritage?  When he is grown up will his name still be accepted as an “adult” name?



Those are some serious issues to tackle in a nine month span of time.  We don’t want to be the parents that you whisper about after you’ve met their twin sons Michael and Jordan.  You have to weigh the family histories, the socially acceptable names of the period and then, finally, personal preference.

So here comes the unorthodox part of our naming process.  Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last twenty years during the month of March, you are aware of the phenomenon of the NCAA Men’s basketball tournament.  Some of you may have even filled out a prediction of the tournament bracket, either in hopes of bragging rights or a big pile of money.  Being the sports minded parents to be that we are, we picked out 64 potential names of our future son, whittled them down to one and presented the bracket to our friends and family as a college fundraiser for Baby Razz.  The results to be released when Baby Razz decides to come to visit and stay a while.

We have had some winners turned in, some off the wall entries and some that were "pretty close" to the actual name.  It's made the naming process fun, but I think that this part of parenthood may be one of the most stressful I've faced to date.

Baby Shower #1

We had our first baby shower a couple of weekends.ago  Our close friends were gracious enough to host it at their house.  It was my first ever baby shower, so I really had nothing to compare it to going in.  I was led to believe that because our shower was co-ed, it was not the “usual” chain of events that happens at your typical baby shower.

Our shower was awesome.  Friends came from as far as four + hours away to attend.  The couple that hosted at their house went over and above with the food and the hospitality.  I feel so blessed to have these friends in my life. 

We have another shower this weekend that is in my wife’s hometown, so I’m going to play my husband card on this one and not attend.  It will be a much more traditional shower in many respects, so my presence would just be awkward.  I should have some extra free time over Thanksgiving, as I don’t participate in Black Friday shopping unless it is done online.

The Iron Bowl will help me to pass the time.

Or I could just write more blog posts.  Happy Thanksgiving!

Flowers on the Wall

This song was recorded well before my time on this earth, but it’s a classic that I think transcends generational gaps.  Originally recorded by The Statler Brothers in 1966, it peaked on the country music charts in the mid sixties at number 2.  Seemingly fitting for such a song that was about the daily task of wasting time, in hopes that someone you cared about would call asking you back, would come in 2^nd to others songs four weeks in a row.  You know, because someone else had better things to do.

Despite my parent’s love of country music, I wasn’t introduced to this song until the fall of 1994.  I was spending that Christmas break from my freshman year of college visiting my extended family. I was staying with my Grandparent’s by day and hanging out with my cousins by night. Riding home with my older cousin who was finishing up her academic career at a much larger and prestigious college than my own one night, she proceeded to tell me of this awesome movie that she had been to see four times before the break from school, and was thinking of going to see it again that week.

In those days, all movies had a soundtrack, and that soundtrack was coordinated with the release of the movie.  This may still happen in the world of today, but it really doesn’t seem as big a deal as it was back then.  On this soundtrack was Flowers on the Wall by the Statler Brothers.  The movie, as most of you well know, is Pulp Fiction.  Ground breaking stuff at the time, it is still one of my favorite movies of all time.

The song is the response of the song writer to someone he cares about very much that doesn’t care for the song writer anymore.  You still care for someone, but they want nothing to do with you, but you still make yourself available just in case they still might be interested.  Flowers on the Wall just details the extent to which people will go to make themselves available just in case. Counting flowers on the wall, that don’t bother me at all.  Playing solitare till dawn, with a deck of 51.  Smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo.  I’ve never seen an episode of Captain Kangaroo or played solitare without a full deck of cards.  I would venture to say that if it weren’t for Microsoft, most people today wouldn’t know much of anything about the card game of solitare. 

I think we have all felt that way about someone at some point in our lives.  Maybe I like this song because I’ve felt that way about certain people I’ve had relationships with.  Maybe I like this song because of the “don’t tell me attitude” that is a byproduct of the main point of the song.  Maybe, I like this song  just because I like it…

Get Busy With the Cheese

I'm overweight, I'll go ahead and spare y'all the suspense. I'm one of the millions of Americans that falls into that category. Part of my reasoning behind that revelation is that I wanted to write tonight about one of my favorite things in the world. 

Cheese.

There aren't many things in this world that adding cheese to will mess up. There are a plethora of cheeses in the world, more than I have carnal knowledge of I'm ashamed to say. Example numero uno. Whomever came up with, stumbled upon by accident or tinkered with a recipe long enough to develop the cheese danish is a genius. We should bestow upon that individual the Nobel Peace Prize. It combines, sweetness with cheese, and for breakfast no less. I don't eat them very often, but dang it, I love them.

Burger King and Waffle House have developed sales strategies behind cheese. Want a Whopper with cheese? That'll be an extra 50 cents from the price of a regular Whopper. Whopper with cheese sounds awesome. Whopper without cheese? I'll pass. Actually, I'd rather not eat at BK if cheese isn't an option.  Scattered, smothered and covered just isn't the same if the covering isn't cheese.

 If Bubba from Forrest Gump were from Wisconsin instead of down there on the gulf with all them shrimps, he'd still be talking about cheese...cheeseburger, grilled cheese, broccoli & cheese sauce, cheese cake...

I don't know what it is with me and cheese, but I can make a meal from it. I'm not talking cheese and crackers, I'm talking straight up cheese. Give me a block of muenster and a knife and I'm good. kid Kiwi, my wife, about her French diet, not to be confused with the one featured here. Sometimes she eats Brie and an apple or pear for a meal. I hope that my son can curb his cheese cravings better than his old man. When we come to the fight about he has to eat his vegetables though, I know what secret weapon I'm pulling out of the refrigerator.

What's your favorite cheese or cheese dish?  Let me know and I'll give you an unorthodox shout out in my next post.

~ Baseball IronDad

Music is a Part of My Life

Music is a part of my life.

Some people turn on the radio and that cures their music fix for the day, week or month, while others take it so far as to have their music on demand at any time via a personal mp3 player, iPod, smartphone, CD’s, or maybe even their record collection. I know many individuals that fall into the latter category. I am one of those individuals. Give me my iPod, a grocery list and I’ll go to Wal-Mart and block out the world all to my own personal soundtrack, while returning with everything on the list.

But music used to play a much larger role in my life. I grew up in a family setting that encouraged participation in many different forms of music. I was a band geek in high school. I was the little boy that was forced to take piano lessons in the 2nd grade. Some of my music experiences were great. I used to hold concerts on the picnic table in our backyard. I could sing to my heart’s content at church. My freshman year of college, I was a music major. I was that into music.

I didn’t end up with a degree in music, but I did get a minor in it. I can read sheet music, string tabulature, know the difference between bass and treble clefs, and tempo and volume markings. While I do not perform music on a regular basis anymore, I do enjoy experiencing music in it’s many different genre’s daily. My iPod is chocked full of many different choices of music. Alternative, Big Band, Bluegrass, Classical, Country, Rock, Blues, Jazz, R & B, Rap, Southern Rock and Swing music all are played regularly on my personal music player.

As a regular part of my blog I’m going to take you through the soundtrack of my life. Think of it as a multi-disk box set. Different forms of music have meant different things to me at different points in my life. That goes for pretty much everyone I guess. My goal is to provide you a song, and the reasons that I’m highlighting the song, once a week from here on out. The next 52 weeks will encompass a myriad of songs and why they mean something to me.

So, without further ado, the song of the week for week 1 is How Bout’ You by Eric Church. Mr. Church is a son of the south, and he has a reverence for hard work, perseverance, and tradition. What he sings about in How Bout’ You really speaks to me because he recognizes that where he is from has made him who he is. It had formed him into this hard working, blue collar Patriot that represents many in America that don’t necessarily have a voice outside of him.

I really think that Eric Church may be the Johnny Cash of our generation. He incorporates instruments in his performance ensemble that few country stars of the past ten years have dared to include, namely the banjo. How Bout’ You opens with a strong intro of a rolling banjo that sets the tone for the rest of the song. The reason that I think Eric Church may be our generation's Man in Black is because he writes music about topics that aren't necessarily popular, but they mean something to him, and you can hear it in his music.  His songs are heartfelt, and sung with truck loads of conviction.

References to honesty and truthfulness in deals with a handshake, and the show of respect for both parents and country, are things that both Eric Church and I still strongly believe in. I’m in my mid 30’s, and I still say yes ma’am and yes sir to most everyone I interact with. I feel for you if I see you at a sporting event and you fail to remove your hat, or pause your phone conversation, during the National Anthem, because I will say something to you. That’s just who I am, because where I come from, that’s what they still do.

Peas & Carrots

My wife and I have been married just a little over a year.  In that time, we’ve experienced a few things that we both felt compelled to do in this life.  Fenway Park was one of them.  After our wedding night we flew to Boston, MA and spent three glorious days touring the city.  We really didn’t have much of a plan, which you may find to be amazing, but we didn’t.  Simply put, we woke up and let the day take us newlyweds where it may.

Some days it took us to very historic places, Fenway Park for example.  Boston is chocked full of history, much of it of the colonial nature.  To stroll the same streets that Paul Revere once frequented, and eat at the oldest operating restaurant in America were treats that history buffs should do at least once.  I love history, especially United States history, and three days in Boston was quite simply nothing more than a tease.

I could spend years in Boston and New England and still not get to see everything I wanted to take in.  Some of the highlights of our trip included Quincy Market, Faneuil Hall, Fenway Park, the North End neighborhood, and a stroll that took us to the USS Constitution (which was ironically closed the day we went) and a trip long, intimate knowledge of the MBTA subway system.  We even kept our Charlie Cards from the trip.

While walking around Boston though, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat like Forrest Gump.  I’d finally found my Jenny.  My wife, we’ll call her Kiwi from now on…she and I have a bit more conventional relationship than Forrest and Jenny did, but you get the point.  I look at Kiwi the way Forrest looks at Jenny.  She can plan all kinds of things for me and I don’t care, because I’m with my Jenny.  I’m much like Forrest in that I’m just happy to be included in Kiwi’s party.

The cool thing about Forrest is that he lives this awesome life that he doesn’t realize happens around him, because he’s so focused on the love of his life. 

I’m proud to admit that Forrest Gump is one of my heroes.

Enough Said!

Parenting 111

I will be the first to admit that I have about .2% experience when it comes to being a parent, and especially one that doles out the discipline around the house.  But, given my past history for practical jokes and "unique" management methods, Razz better watch it around the house.

Don't assume that I do not know how to sew.

Special thanks to http://www.thechive.com/ for the use of the images. Happy Thursday!

The Listening Express

I’m a listener.  I like to listen for different things in my daily life.  I often listen to National Public Radio to make myself learn something that day.  I have this habit that I picked up from my Granny of recanting stories or news that I have knowledge of to ones that I love. 

My Granny has been practicing this tactic on my Poppa for years now.  She will read the newspaper to him after he had read what he cares to glean from the latest newsprint offerings.  He smiles, goes about his routine and allows Granny to read him a story that he’s already probably read.  I think he views this as a way to spend time with the woman he loves while she gets to do one of her most favorite activities…reading.

Anyways, I practice the same tactic on my wife.  I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  Instead of reading aloud from the newspaper to my spouse, I recant stories that I’ve heard on NPR to her.  Sometimes, you can feel her groan when my opening statement starts our with “Today, on NPR I heard this story about…”  She never makes a sound, but you can hear her eyes roll from across the room.

I love the variety of subject matter that NPR provides.  As a matter of fact, just this morning I heard a story that scientists in the Amazon are finding, on average, a new species of animal once every three days.  In the year 2011, this is unprecedented ground science is covering!  Did ABC News cover the story?

They even cover sports!  Tonight is the start of the World Series.  American League vs. National League.  Texas vs. California.  Rangers vs. Giants.  There are so many subplots to this series it’s hard to figure out where to start.  We’ve got an All-Star slugger that is a recovering drug addict battling daily in his struggle with sobriety, an All-Star pitcher that has admitted to using and liking the wacky weed (sub plot to a sub plot, marijuana legalization is on the ballot in the state his team resides, making him a poster boy of sorts for Proposition 19) Both teams have had image and PR problems with steroid use amongst current and former players.  The Texas Rangers have never played in the World Series before tonight's game. The Rangers front office is led by one of the most feared pitchers in the history of the game, Nolan Ryan, who is a native of Texas and also a former player with the franchise.  Think it can’t get any more dramatic? Think again.  Something will happen, it always does.  It’s the World Series.

Planners of the Apes

My wife is a planner. That's just who she is. She has a plan for even the most simplistic of tasks. Let me be the first person to tell you that I am very lucky to even be in the same room with her, let alone have the privilege of being her husband. Usually within 15 minutes of us being up and moving around first thing in the morning, she asks the question: so what's your plan for today?

Some days I have one. Most days I don't. I'm a pretty laid back guy and usually roll with the punches of what comes at me in life and rarely does that mean that I have a plan for the day.

On days that I have a plan, it's all about checking stuff off the list. Clean the bathroom, check. Go to the grocery store, check. Take the guest bedroom to storage, check. Paint the old guest bedroom new nursery colors, check.

On days that I don't have a “plan”, per se, I still have a checklist, but it's only in my head. Sleep in, check. Go out to breakfast for over easy eggs, check. Figure out what time my team is playing their football game, check. Figure out what other football game I can try to convince my wife that we should watch because we have a connection to that school, check. You get the picture...

With Baby Razz on the way my planning has become more methodical. Yes, I called him Baby Razz. Raspberries are some of my most favorite fruits in the world. Growing up on a secluded farm wild raspberries were everywhere and I could eat my weight in them right off the briar if given the chance. When my wife was reading “What to Expect When You're Expecting” at the end of certain chapters it would say Week 8 – Your baby is the size of a Lima Bean (think of different small objects, and they compared your future child to it). Well, one day the comparison was to a raspberry. Bingo, our child had his first name of his life.

To get me back on subject though...planning for a baby takes much more diligence and daily planning. There are grandparent visits to arrange, doctors visits to attend, feeding and sleeping schedules to adhere to...there is much to incorporate into a day of a life of a child.  To paraphrase Crash Davis, "we're dealing with a lot of stuff here!"  Maybe my wife is subconsciously testing me...maybe she is trying to find a way to brighten my day (she often does) or maybe, just maybe....she is just being her.

IronDad Debut

So, depending on your beliefs and views, I may already be a father.  I may not be.  I definitely do not feel like a father yet because I haven't been thrown up on, changed a blowout diaper or gone 24 hours with little to no sleep because of my child's sleeping (or lack thereof) habits.  That being said, I can't wait to experience all of those things and those that are unknown to me.

I'm also trying to balance and further a career in the wonderful world of sports.  It's not as glamorous as it sounds.  There is no typical day in a career in sports, and often the hours are long and no one says thank you.  Regardless, I still love to know that my hard work gives someone the chance to see the wonderful game of baseball, or the ballpark that I call my second home, for the first time.

This journal will encompass many different things.  Not all will be about sports, not all will be about my humdrum life, not all will be about my new son.  I cannot promise that the content will ever be entertaining, insightful or pertinent, but it will be honest.

The reason I chose Baseball IronDad as my blog name is that I have worked for five seasons in baseball and have not missed a game.  My work ethic will not allow it.  So 300 games into my career and I haven't missed a start, I'm going to introduce bath time, car seats, daily bodily functions and sleep deprivation into my routine.


Bring it.