Another 9/11 Milestone

Like most people, 9/11 represents a demarcation of personal history. There is life before 9/11 (youth, young adulthood, early career experiences, innocence, ignorance) and life after 9/11 (endless war, fear, anger, sadness, revelation). 

For context, on 9/11/01 I was a young teacher, working a split assignment between a middle and high school in rural Iowa. 

I left the classroom TV on that day, my students saw everything as it happened. 

I was with 8th graders when the second tower was hit, I was with sophomores and juniors when the towers collapsed. I always wonder if showing the horror as it unfolded was the right choice, if I had been a more experienced teacher would I have left the TV on? Not sure, but not one parent complained.

My personal memories of that day are still tough to talk about, as I watched America under attack I was simultaneously trying to reconcile my own fears while attempting to educate and comfort kids. Since that day, I have valued the discussions I have had with students each anniversary, even if their experience that day was only as a child.

Fast forward to now. I am currently a high school teacher in suburban San Diego County. A significant portion of my school’s population either immigrated from Iraq or have family who did so. 

I knew that if I taught long enough I would come to a point where my students had either no recollection of that day or were born after 9/11. It dawned on me as I started to write up a 9/11 discussion prompt this morning that day was today.

Today’s discussion with students who were at most a couple years old on 9/11 went extremely well. Students understood the significance of the day, they could easily make connections to how 9/11 has impacted their lives. Most importantly, they knew the day mattered even if they didn’t have personal emotional memories of it. 

They also asked a lot of questions. 

The most common was, “why did the US decide to attack Iraq?” It was a question that I don’t remember being asked a lot by previous classes WITH memories of that day. It’s a tough one to answer (see George W Bush’s legacy) and requires a much longer blog post, but what I can post here is that at the time right after 9/11 war with Iraq seemed like the right idea for most Americans based on the "facts"given to us by our government ….and that became probably the best “teachable moment” I have ever been able to give students during one of these 9/11 discussions, that just because a war seems like a good idea at the time, doesn’t mean it will always be so. I know this is overly simplistic, but it doesn’t make it any less true. 

Anecdotally it seems that kids who lived the 9/11 experience were focused, like me, on emotional memories. Conversely, students who didn’t have memories of that day were more focused on the “why” of the later wars and looked at it analytically. This isn’t an earth shattering revelation, but for some reason their thoughtful questions gave me some hope that maybe younger generations might be learning something from the decisions made in the emotional climate after 9/11. 

Over the past 16 years I have  taught a lot of kids. Some of my students after graduating went to fight in the wars that came about after 9/11, while some students who sit in my classroom today fled those wars and came to America to be safe. I am thankful for both....

While not as dramatic as the 9/11 of 16 years ago, today still was a significant milestone in my life. I hope that each year I can help kids understand the significance of 9/11, I also hope that they will continue to ask the tough questions about the decisions that came afterwards. 

To all my students, former and current, thank you for being part of the discussion. 

Typical Friday Night Riding Solo With 3 Kids Under the Age of 7

(Dedicated to those who have lived this, and to those who might be considering having multiple kids)

I had the night off from calling football, my wife was out with friends- so I got this brilliant idea to take all three kids out to a game. Some of my favorite memories as a kid involve me and my dad heading out to a high school game under the lights and I wanted to share this experience with my kids.

We ended up leaving the house late because my middle child couldn't find his shoes. His inability to find shoes is right up there with death and taxes, its something you can count on. Eventually my shoeless child miraculously found something to cover his feet with and we head out. Before we go to the game we have to first stop at a large chain store to get my youngest a better car seat (safety first). You would think that I would be a car seat aficionado by now, but I did not fully realize that I actually had to first assemble the seat before use.  I am not a big directions reader, so I start trying to cram the pieces together while my 3 extremely excited kids attempt to wriggle out of the car to dodge traffic in the parking lot.   

Seat construction complete, we are now able to  safely drive to the game. When we arrive there's only 5 minutes left in the half and our team is already down 21-0. The field is (no exaggeration) a mile away from where we parked.

As we start our forced march to the  stadium I started mentally preparing myself for the typical trash talk from the home team, and wonder how to explain to my kids what the phrase "you suck" means. About half-way, 2 of my 3 kids start melting down for various mysterious reasons that defy logic, while the other kid finds a plastic football and is jumping for joy. As the mini-meltdowns continue, I start processing options, and before I know what I am saying I blurt out -"Who wants ice cream instead?" The 2 kids who had been crying scream YES! The once happy kid with newfound football starts to cry. We pack back up, get to store to get ice cream and now my middle child (the one with the tendency to lose shoes) needs to use the public bathroom (you can imagine my joy). After the bathroom break, ice cream selections were made. As we near the check-out my oldest declares has now has to use the bathroom. I choose to ignore, acting like I didn't hear him (this will seem terrible to the parenting neophyte, but he is a habitual pee-false-alarmer). At this point I am hoping to check out, get to the car, and arrive home without having to go back into the biohazard that is this store's bathroom. Unfortunately, the guy ahead of me in line is buying about $300 in booze, and also arguing over the price. The stalled grocery store check out experience is absolutely the death knell for parents. Right there in front of your child's eye is a veritable smorgasbord of a kid's desire. Candy, fidget spinners, magazines with covers that illicit uncomfortable questions (see Cosmo, health magazines with half nude people smiling while holding bowls of quinoa, etc.). Somehow we escape with no extra purchases and no tears.

Upon pulling out of the parking lot I make one of the most critical parenting error you can make...the "hey look at that" suggestion, while not considering that not all your kids saw it.  I merely pointed out as we are leaving the cool dog a woman was walking, 2 of 3 kids agree that the dog was intact cool...the third claims he can't see dog and starts crying and demands we drive after lady so he can see it.

We finally arrive at home and eat ice cream, everyone is happy! Whoops, our failed football journey, shopping spree and drive  have put us perilously close to bedtime. As the kids lick the remaining ice cream from their bowls I exclaim, "BEDTIME!".... Kids are now all crying. The great news is they eventually cried themselves to sleep.

There is no real purpose to this blog post, I assume if you made it this far you either have kids and have lived this or don't have kids and are celebrating the fact you don't. I have next Friday off too, maybe we will actually make it to the game next week...better start looking for my kid's shoes right now!

The following is one of the oddest and most reluctant real estate pitches you will ever read. It should be made clear, I don’t expect any sympathy for my plight, after all I have been spoiled to have had such a great place to grow up in and return to….but honey stop the car, this house is a great deal!

 I never intended to move away from Iowa for “good.”

Back in 2003 I loaded up a trailer of my possessions and headed to California to experience new adventures with my fellow Midwestern refugee friends in the Golden State. I figured I would see the sites, work a bit, and head back to the Midwest when I got “old” ….you know like in my 30’s. I assumed someday I would purchase my parents home, raise a family, get active in my hometown community and maybe even get involved in politics (I was an extreme idealist). What I didn’t plan on was meeting the woman of my dreams in California…. the rest is as they say…history.

Now married to my native San Diegan wife (sounds so exotic) and raising two young boys in Southern California, I take my family back to my childhood acreage on the outskirts of Sioux City several times each year. I feel it is important that my boys experience at least a little bit of the magic and beauty I enjoyed growing up in such a beautiful place. 

People who don’t think “beautiful” when they think of Iowa have never been to Iowa. 

I have a fairly remarkable memory (good thing I had a great childhood). Like a lot of people, my memories tend to be paired with sensory things like music, smells, and visual cues. A pop song from the 80’s, no matter how good or bad, might trigger a memory of a childhood event where I heard that song. Even for things like toys, clothing, etc.  I can often remember the day I received them or the circumstances surrounding their aquisition. Sometimes my vivid recollections of the past frustrate family members who wish some memories would just fade away. The memories that I am most fond of from my life often center around my childhood home. My parents bought the house and surrounding eleven-acre property from the bank right before I entered kindergarten. I remember my mom and dad saying they got a great deal on this brand new house because the developer, who had hoped to build a housing development, had “lost his shirt” and was forced into bankruptcy.  In one of our first visits to our new home I opened a drawer and found an old shirt. I recall clearly how proud I was when I triumphantly declared to my parents that I had found that man’s shirt! That was just the first of many memories that were forged during my time in this house.  As you might imagine, my memory makes it tough to part with things. After all, I am not just parting with just a “thing”, but a memory (special thanks to my wife, she keeps me from hoarding).

Fast forward 35 years and my parents have decided that they no longer need a large two story house with 11 acres of hills and trees to maintain. My mom will finally get her wish, this fall she will get to live on a paved road in town, and both my parents will no longer have to deal with the constant upkeep required for an acreage. I am happy for them and the new experiences they will have, but now I find myself trying to box up a childhood and reconcile the many memories tied up in that home and land.

I have friends who moved so often growing up that no one home ever seemed like “home.” For me, I have spent the past 35 years either living or returning to one address. No matter where my mail was going or where I lived….this was my only real home.  Even now when I walk around the house I remember so vividly events from the past 30 plus years. Birthdays, Christmases, phone calls from friends, parties, bad times, great times, mediocre times, first experiences, and sad experiences, every part of the house has significance. For example, when I walk into the front door and go up our steps I remember coming home in middle school and being greeted with the news my grandfather had passed away. When I walk through the kitchen I remember the time as a 5 year old I tried out a new word I had recently heard in front of the family as they ate dinner (the word was bastard, and I had no idea what it meant…. you can imagine the surprise). In the garage, I can still see clearly the crepe paper hanging from a middle school party I threw in hopes of impressing one of the many young ladies I was interested in (the song “Hungry Eyes” always makes me cringe when I hear it, not just because it’s a crappy song, but  also because of the memories of failure that accompany it.).

The reality is that the house will go up for sale in a few weeks. Even though I have worked tirelessly to persuade my wife that it is in fact a very smart idea to pay a mortgage on a home we actually don’t live in (this argument I feel is extremely valid), I have failed to change her mind, and unless someone from the Siouxland community steps forward and provides me with an awesome job that allows me to broadcast sports, record voiceovers, and teach while earning enough money to fly my wife back to San Diego monthly the future of the house will not include my family.

I have surrendered to the idea that I will have to learn to deal with not having a museum of memories to return to, but I am hopeful that my childhood home can be a magical place for another child out there or for parents who desire a great place to raise a family. So if you know someone who wants a large house and land** with plenty of room for adventure please let me know…..I would be more than happy to show them around my childhood, I mean the house.

It does appear I am now gone for good.....(or at least my childhood is) 

*For my non-Midwestern friends, our property was just an acreage, not a farm with a 1,000+ acres of crops, livestock, tractors, etc.. ….In relative terms to the farm belt, 11 acres is fairly small.

**The plan is to only sell the house and half the property, my parents will retain half of the land.