Category Archives: Family

Trust

James, my youngest, has been running into one of the great joys of teenagerdom lately. He’s been finding out that sometime you can’t even trust your friends. I won’t go into the details of the situation other than to say that there’s a girl involved but suffice it to say, some of his alleged friends have been taking an great deal of pleasure stabbing him in the back. One ‘friend’ is a weaselly little git with a fair amount of intelligence and the backbone of a pint of cream (thanks Jann Hunter for that WONDERFUL expression). Another ‘friend’ is a lazy asshat that delights in pissing in everyone else’s soup…just because he’s bored. Add to this the fact that the girl is VERY pretty and fairly personable and it’s every man for himself.

Trust is one of those things that James…hell, all of us Coxens…take very seriously. We all feel that if someone is your friend, you have their back and they have yours. Period…end of statement! It’s ‘s a binary solution set. You’re either a friend or you’re not. There is no middle ground.

We also don’t believe in situational ethics or morality. If you say that you’re going to do something, you do it…even if it costs you. If you say something is so, it had better be so. If it’s not, you admit your mistake and accept the consequences…again, regardless of the cost. Because to NOT do that is to violate a trust. It’s dishonorable.

Honor isn’t a word that’s much in fashion these days and I think that’s a bad thing. These days you need a raft of lawyers and a contract longer than the tax code to make sure that something is going to be done. Personally, I’d prefer to be able to trust a man’s word rather than the skillfulness of my lawyer compared to his. There’s a scene in the movie ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ where George M. Cohan and Sam Harris, his partner of many years, are closing down their business. The news men come flocking in to get pictures of them hurling insults and shredded contracts at each other. Instead, they find the two men talking quietly about times gone by. Cohan says, “Here’s the only contract we’ve ever had.” And he and his partner shake hands. That’s trust. That’s friendship.

Maybe I’m a throw-back to an earlier time. Maybe I’m an anachronism. If so, I don’t care. Trust me.

These Are The Days Of Our Lives

Things are starting to get back to normal here at the asylum I call home. Tami has been back to work for a week now and is adjusting pretty well. They’re going to have to adjust her meds a bit since her blood is WAY too thin but from what we hear that’s pretty typical. I’m starting a fairly big project at work evaluating Network Management Systems for use by the different IT groups. Sean has finished up his summer job and James is doing pre-season Soccer workouts.

And yet, the return to normalcy is a surface effect at best. Underneath the facade things have changed and are continuing to change. Tami has had a brush with death and while it’s made her a bit more fearful in some respects, it’s also brought her peace and and closer to God .

Some of you hypothetical readers will take one look at that and think, “Typical. She got a scare and she went all religious.” You’d be wrong. She did have a scare but she hasn’t become hyper-religious. Tami has always believed in a higher power – call it God, Yahweh, Allah, the Great Baboo – doesn’t matter. She just hasn’t gotten along with organized religion. That doesn’t make her an athiest, just religiously unaffiliated.

So the sun shines a little brighter and the flowers smell a little sweeter. And she makes sure she tells God about it and thanks him. I just think it’s a shame that it takes a scare like that to make people appreciate what they have and the beauty of the world around them – and I include myself in that as well. I’m as guilty of it as the next person so I’m trying to follow Tami’s example.

Another sub-surface change is that Sean is going to be heading back to College in a couple of weeks. I’ve already started tensing up for the series of excruciating jerks as the BandAid gets ripped off when he’s gone again. I’m more the ‘one agonizing rip’ kind of guy so it hurts me more when I keep looking around for him and he’s not there (jerk) or we sit down for dinner and there’s only three people (jerk) or…you get the idea.

Yet another change involves James. He just turned 16 with all that entails – he’s more independent, expressing himself more and exploring ideas that more and more don’t come from Mom and Dad. In other words, he’s growing up and becoming a man. Not the man I envisioned when he was born or when he was a little boy but that’s OK. It’s not important that he become what I expect. It’s important that he becomes who he’s supposed to be. And for the record, I like what I see and I’m proud of who he’s becoming.

Finally, there’s me. I’m going to turn 49 in a couple of months which means that 50 is only a year away and retirement only 15 years (or so) beyond that. Yes, I can do basic math. No, I’m not having a mid-life crisis. I have too much fun laughing at other men who do that to ever want to expose myself to my own brand of humor. By the way, the Mazda Miata seems to be the mid-life-crisis-mobile of choice. In an ongoing, informal survey I’m conducting (a semi-accurate count I keep in my head), Miata drivers seem to be split roughly 50-50 between 30-something women and 50-something men. Make of that what you will.

But getting back to what I was talking about…(why do you let me go off on these side tangents, anyway?). With retirement getting closer I’m actually starting to <cue dramatic music> Make Plans For The Future! What, you’re surprised? I’ve always been one to take life as it comes and not worry too much about tomorrow. That’s changing. Not, I think, because the boys are growing up or because Tami had a close call. I think it’s more just because for me at least, it’s time. Boring, maybe but it’s the truth.

And so, with normalcy and change setting in, I’ll leave you with these thoughts from Queen. For Tami.

The change in her is that she has an appreciation of day-to-day life that she didn’t have before. When a Doctor tells you that if something hadn’t been caught for another couple of days, you’d be dead it makes you think. So the sun shines a little brighter and the flowers smell a little sweeter. And she makes sure she tells God about it and thanks him. I just think it’s a shame that it takes a scare like that to make people appreciate what they have and the beauty of the world around them – and I include myself in that as well. I’m as guilty of it as the next person so I’m trying to follow Tami’s example.

Another sub-surface change is that Sean is going to be heading back to College in a couple of weeks. I’ve already started tensing up for the series of excruciating jerks as the BandAid gets ripped off when he’s gone again. I’m more the ‘one agonizing rip’ kind of guy so it hurts me more when I keep looking around for him and he’s not there (jerk) or we sit down for dinner and there’s only three people (jerk) or…you get the idea.

Yet another change involves James. He just turned 16 with all that entails – he’s more independent, expressing himself more and exploring ideas that more and more don’t come from Mom and Dad. In other words, he’s growing up and becoming a man. Not the man I envisioned when he was born or when he was a little boy but that’s OK. It’s not important that he become what I expect. It’s important that he becomes who he’s supposed to be. And for the record, I like what I see and I’m proud of who he’s becoming.

Finally, there’s me. I’m going to turn 49 in a couple of months which means that 50 is only a year away and retirement only 15 years (or so) beyond that. Yes, I can do basic math. No, I’m not having a mid-life crisis. I have too much fun laughing at other men who do that to ever want to expose myself to my own brand of humor. By the way, the Mazda Miata seems to be the mid-life-crisis-mobile of choice. In an ongoing, informal survey I’m conducting (a semi-accurate count I keep in my head), Miata drivers seem to be split roughly 50-50 between 30-something women and 50-something men. Make of that what you will.

But getting back to what I was talking about…(why do you let me go off on these side tangents, anyway?). With retirement getting closer I’m actually starting to <cue dramatic music> Make Plans For The Future! What, you’re surprised? I’ve always been one to take life as it comes and not worry too much about tomorrow. That’s changing. Not, I think, because the boys are growing up or because Tami had a close call. I think it’s more just because for me at least, it’s time. Boring, maybe but it’s the truth.

And so, with normalcy and change setting in, I’ll leave you with these thoughts from Queen.

For Tami.

These Are The Days Of Our Lives
Sometimes I get to feelin'
I was back in the old days - long ago
When we were kids when we were young
Thing seemed so perfect - you know
The days were endless we were crazy we were young
The sun was always shinin - we just lived for fun
Sometimes it seems like lately - I just don't know
The rest of my lifes been just a show
Those were the days of our lives
The bad things in life were so few
Those days are all gone now but one thing is true
When I look and I find I still love you
You cant turn back the clock you cant turn back the tide
Ain't that a shame
I'd like to go back one time on a roller coaster ride
When life was just a game
No use in sitting and thinkin' on what you did
When you can lay back and enjoy it through your kids
Sometimes it seems like lately - I just don't know
Better sit back and go with the flow
Cos these are the days of our lives
They've flown in the swiftness of time
These days are all gone now but some things remain
When I look and I find no change
Those were the days of our lives - yeah
The bad things in life were so few
Those days are all gone now but one things still true
When I look and I find
I still love you
I still love you

Plans are what you make, life is what you get.

Robert Heinlein once said, “Climate is what you expect, weather is what you get.” My version works pretty well, too. I started this blog with the best of intentions, planning on posting at least once a week. It’s now been a little over 2 months since my last post. Not the best track record around. In my own defense, my plans took a back seat to life.

I’ve happily started my new job at Cutco. Unbelievably, this company is everything its reputation makes it out to be and more. They’re very family and community oriented. They work hard to take care of their employees (as I’ve recently had ample evidence of – more later). They make good products and they stand behind them. This is a company where, if you’ve worked there for 15 years, you’re a short timer. I’ve been looking most of my adult life for the company I could work for until I retire (hard to find in the computer biz) and now, coming up on my 49th birthday, I’ve found it. Life was good.

So, I spent the next few weeks getting up to speed on my new job, learning the network and systems, etc. Everything was going well. Tami started a new job at about the same time. Coincidentally, it’s my old job with the Disconnects group at Level 3. She even has my old cubicle. Of course, her old boss was being a real jackass about letting her go. He had let the group attrit down to 2 people from 6 while the work load doubled so Tami wasn’t allowed to just start her new job. She had to ‘transition’ out of the old one which turned out to mean working 1/2 days at one job and 1/2 days at the other. This made training for the new job interesting in a Chinese curse kind of way – especially since the person training her was due to take maternity leave real soon. Needless to say, her stress level was kind of high.

Still, she was doing OK and learning the new job. Dennise had her baby so Tami was on her own but she was still doing well. But the stress was getting to her. She has been under ever increasing stress in her old job because of her let-staffing-drop-by-60%-while-workload-doubles-and-keep-performance-requirements-the-same jackass boss. The new job stress just added to it. On top of that, she had hurt her knee a couple of months ago and it wasn’t getting any better. Her feet were swelling (from sitting all day, we thought) and she couldn’t exercise because of her knee and would get out of breath going up stairs. All this just made everything worse.

Finally, her mother had to go in for surgery. As such things go, it wasn’t too serious but her Mom is 62 so there was something else to worry about. Tami and I had scheduled time off work so that we could go stay with her Mom when she got out of the hospital. We planned (there’s that word again) to drive down Thursday evening so we would be there when her Mom went into surgery Friday morning. We would stay the weekend and drive home Sunday evening. Tami’s Aunt would be there as well and would stay for the rest of the week. That’s what we planned.

Here’s what actually happened. Thursday morning, Tami got up and went to take her shower. She came back a minute later saying that she had gotten halfway down the hall and couldn’t catch her breath. I checked her pulse and breathing to make sure it wasn’t a heart attack (I was an EMT is a former life). Nothing dire was apparent so after talking about it, we chalked it up to a particularly bad anxiety attach (she had been having them off and on for the past few months and we attributed them to work related stress). We thought that worry about her Mom had just turned up the pressure. Anyway, we both went to work.

That evening, we drove 5 hours to West Virginia to Tami’s Mom’s house. Tami was still having anxiety attacks. The next day, more of the same. She would be able to walk about 10-15 feet and then would have to stop and get her breath. After the surgery, it seemed a little better which seemed to strengthen the argument that it was stress related. The next morning, Saturday, July 13th she woke up and her breathing was worse than ever. I drove her over to the Fairmont General Hospital Emergency Room. They very quickly admitted her and the Doctor on duty almost immediately tagged her problem as something more serious than an anxiety attack. He didn’t like her breathing, didn’t like her color, didn’t like her pulse rate, blood pressure and blood oxygen level and remarkably made a tentative diagnosis of pulmonary embolism. The reason I say ‘remarkably’ is because pulmonary embolism is hard to diagnose because it often resembles a heart attack or, you guessed it, an anxiety attack. Regardless, one CAT scan later, his prognosis was confirmed and Tami was off to Intensive Care. Plans, meet Life.

The Doctors at Fairmont General were fantastic. They kept us fully apprised of what was going on, the risks involved, planned treatment, prognosis for recovery…everything. The Nursing staff was just as wonderful – always friendly, smiling, professional, caring. My Mother was a nurse so I know something of what the job entails. It’s not an easy job and maintaining a good attitude is difficult sometimes but essential to giving good patient care. Tami’s nurses were among the best I’ve ever dealt with.

Tami’s prognosis was actually pretty good…once we got her in the hospital. The scary part was that the doctors told us that if we hadn’t brought her in when we did she probably would have been dead within a few days. In fact, the only reason she made it as long as she did is because (we found this out in the ER as well) she was severely anemic. This limited the size of the clots and kept them from killing her outright. This kind of revelation has a tendency to make you forget to breath for a few minutes.

This is where hind-sight kicked in and we realized that pain in her knee was the initial blood clot that started all this. The swollen ankles were a side effect of the clot. The infuriating thing here is that Tami went to our family doctor about her knee and was sent to the local hospital (which shall remain nameless) for a sonogram to see what the problem was. The tech looked right at the clot and never saw it. Fairmont General found it almost immediately. For the record, I will never willing set foot in that nameless hospital again. They’re the closest to our home but they’ve managed to screw up diagnoses and treatment for every member of my family. The took hours to even see one of my sons when I took him to the Emergency room on a Friday night for what we found out was a cracked collar bone (the ER wasn’t even remotely busy that night – we were the only ones there). They mis-read a cardiac stress test on me when they thought they saw something. This resulted in my having to travel to another hospital 3 hours away to get a Cardiac Catheterization done which showed absolutely nothing wrong. They did the same thing with an echocardiogram on my youngest son when he had to get a checkup for Cross Country and Soccer. We ended up taking him to 2 other hospitals. The first one did another echocardiogram and found nothing so they sent us the another hospital. This last one put him on a treadmill for a stress test. End result was that the only person who had ever done better on that test was a professional fire fighter who ran triathlons. I was willing to overlook the botched tests on me and my youngest since the only consequences were more tests (better safe than sorry) – irritating but OK. But when some incompetent imbecile miss-reads results and it almost costs someone their life they’ve gone too far. I don’t blame the Doctor that read the results or our Family Doctor. I blame the brain-dead tech who gave them bad results and the hospital that employs him or her.

Once we got over the shock though we started looking ahead at her recovery. Short term, that meant at least a week in the hospital followed by another couple of weeks at home. This is where we are now. Tami’s out of the hospital, we’ve driven the 5 hours home and she’s following doctor’s orders – resting a lot, light exercise (the only kind she’s capable of right now), monitoring her blood pressure, taking her meds…the list goes on.

Medium term it means getting her blood checked – a lot – to make sure it’s not too thin and making some minor dietary changes. Interestingly enough, we don’t really eat that badly, nutritionally speaking. We’re just too sedentary and our portion size is too big. Which means continuing with the exercise and increasing it as we can. It also means that when she goes back to work next week she can’t sit chained to her desk all day. She has to get up occasionally and walk around for a few minutes.

Long term…WOW. Long term means being thankful to God and appreciating that you actually have a long term to think about. And plan for. It means making the most of each day. It means actually improving out health, not just talking about it.

As for me, I’ve gone back to work. About the time Tami was being moved from Intensive Care to a regular room, I was driving home to get the boys, clear the decks with my new job and cancel about a half-dozen appointments with Doctors, Optometrists, Dentists and Orthodontists (the only one I couldn’t reschedule). We all had checkups scheduled – ironic, ain’t it? I went to work that Monday to clear things up so that I could be away for a few days. My boss (and her boss and his boss) all made a point of letting me know that I was to take as much time as I needed to take care of my family – no muss, no fuss. My job would still be there when I got back. I was speechless. When I got back to work for real this past Tuesday I asked my boss how I needed to handle the fact that I had used up all my available vacation time with this plus a day I didn’t have coming to me. She told me, “You still have your vacation. They wouldn’t do that to you.” Again, I was speechless.

I know that eventually I’ll find something about Cutco that I don’t like – nothing’s perfect – but everything I’ve ever heard about them and now my own experience tell me that I’m working for a wonderful group of people. Tami’s on the mend and the future is bright. We’re all (reasonably) healthy and getting more so. What can I say. Life is good.

Parenthood – Oye Vey!!!

Sean, my eldest, is home for the summer. We’re four again and it feels good. Of course, there are adjustments to make. The tall young man we picked up on Saturday isn’t the same one that we dropped off last fall. Or the same one that came home for Christmas. Or even the same person that was home for Spring Break a few weeks ago. He’s growing into himself and maturing…becoming the man he’s going to be. And I’m pretty pleased with what I’m seeing.

Oh, he’s not there yet but he’s well on the way. And Tami and I get to go through the bittersweet period of adjustment that comes from looking for our boy and seeing a man. She put if perfectly earlier this evening when she said, “We’re not the center of his life anymore but he’s still the center of ours.”

Ahhh, the joys of parenthood. We raise them, teach them, help them grow, all the while hoping beyond hope that we’re not making too many mistakes and that we won’t do something so horribly wrong that it’ll end up crippling them emotionally or intellectually. We spend sleepless nights worrying about…everything. We hug them when we can, spank them when they need it, bandage their skinned knees and send them back out to get more. We teach them how to drive and then pray more earnestly than we have in years the first time they go out solo. And then we pray more each time after that.

We try so hard to guide them and help them grow up straight and strong and we get so wrapped up in their lives that it comes as a major shock when we look up and see that our work is almost done. It amazes us that our children have gone and grown up on us seemingly overnight – Sean is 19 now but still sometimes I hear his voice behind me and I turn around looking for the 12 or 13 year old boy and am surprised when I end up having to look up at him.

Worst of all, it’s truly painful to realize that, even though they still love us and (we hope and pray) they always will, they don’t NEED us anymore. At least not like they used to. But we still need them. That’s the part that really hurts. That’s the part that’s not fair. DAMN IT, they’re not supposed to grow up that fast. Didn’t he just start Junior High School a few months ago? And he was going to his first High School Dance just a few weeks ago. He can’t be 19. I still have so much to tell him. And I still haven’t spend enough time with him. He’s still just a boy. Except, he isn’t.

He’s a tall, straight, honest young man that I’d be proud to call friend…if I weren’t so insufferably prouder to be able to call him ‘Son’. He’s everything I’ve always hoped he’d be at 19 – except for maybe the long hair…and the tattoos…and the piercings. But those are window dressing. I may tease him about them but they don’t change how I feel about him. ‘course, if he ever comes home with gauges in his earlobes I’m gettin’ the pliers.

Jokes aside, I am proud of him and who he’s become…and who he’s still becoming. We don’t agree on everything but that’s OK. Tami and I have raised our sons to think for themselves and make up their own minds. We’ve never required them to agree with everything we say and to believe everything we believe. We do require that they be respectful of us – even when they disagree with us.

When you get down to it, Tami and I never had that many rules. I’ve never really tried writing them down before and I don’t recall us ever discussing them in any organized, “this is what we’ll required of our children” fashion so maybe I should make a stab at putting them down once and for all. So here goes…John and Tami’s rules for our children.

We require that our children treat everyone with the respect they are due – and this includes the respect your give yourself. This means treating everyone with respect. If someone proves unworthy of that respect at a later date, the fault is theirs, not yours. Of course, if the person that proves themselves unworthy of respect is you then you have a real problem on your hands. So make sure that it doesn’t happen.

We require that our children mind their manners and be aware that what passes for good manners at home may not be good manners out in public. This one starts out with the parents making it crystal clear what is and is not considered good manners both at home and in public and being consistent with those standards.

We require that our children take responsibility for their own actions. If you screwed up, then YOU screwed up, not someone else. If you got bad grades because you didn’t study, the fault is yours, not your teachers, not the kids being loud and distracting at the back of the class.

We require that our children be honest. This does not mean that we require them to be little Polly Purebred, never tell a lie, brutally honest at all times with everybody prigs. It means that, if you’re asked a question, you answer it honestly – even if it gets you in trouble. If you give your word, you keep it – even if it hurts.

We require that our children try their best and put forth their best effort at all times. Everyone has days when they don’t feel like putting out the effort – maybe you’re tired, maybe you’re sick, maybe it’s just one of those days. None of that matters. You still do the best you can do knowing that your best on those days isn’t as good as your best when you’re really on your game. The important thing isn’t whether or not you’re as good today as you were yesterday or whether you’re going to be better tomorrow. The important thing is, regardless of how you feel, you do your best. Anything else is cheating yourself.

Of course, that’s the easy part. The hard part is the rules for ourselves.

Hug your child…a lot. Every living thing needs physical contact. A hug conveys love, solace, comfort, stability, friendship, strength, sharing…the list goes on. Robert Heinlein once said, “Touch is the most fundamental sense. A baby experiences it, all over, before he is born and long before he learns to use sight, hearing, or taste, and no human ever ceases to need it. Keep your children short on pocket money but long on hugs.” Ladies and Gentlemen, this is wisdom.

Say, “I love you!”…a lot. And do this out in public, not just at home. And don’t be shy about expecting the same in return. Children need to understand that love is there to be shared everywhere, not just at home. One of the things that I’m proudest of as a parent is that both of my sons will hug me in public, in front of their friends and tell me that they love me without any hint of embarrassment. I’ve always been careful not to do anything that might embarrass them – no yelling “I love you” as I drop them off at school. But I’m also never been shy about going up to them and hugging them and telling them, “I love you. And I am so proud of you.”

Be consistent with your rules. NEVER punish for something one time and let it slide the next time – even…or especially when you’re tired, cranky, out of sorts, don’t feel like it or can’t be bothered right now. Children need consistency. Not so much because it’s easier to learn the rules that way – it is but that’s not the main reason. Children need consistency so they’ll feel secure in their place in the world. That security is the foundation for the rest of their lives. If they get punished for doing something one time and don’t get punished the next time, they don’t know where they stand. The ground under their feet shifts. Don’t do that to them. Being a child is hard enough without that. A corollary of this is if you have to change the rules, explain why you’re changing them…and be aware that the explanation will probably include the words, “I was wrong”.

Never reward what’s expected. If your child acts the way you want them to act, that’s what’s expected and that’s not deserving of a reward. If your child exceeds your expectations – even a little bit – reward them. But be consistent with the rewards.

Never reward a child with money or gifts. Reward a child with hugs. Tell them you’re proud of them. Brag about their achievements to your family and single them out for praise and attention. But don’t raise them to expect a financial windfall whenever they do well. The world doesn’t work that way and you’ll be doing them an incredible disservice.

Never compare one child to another. Never say things like, “Why can’t you make good grades like your brother?” Every child is different with different strengths and weaknesses. One of my sons is dyslexic. The other isn’t. One gets C’s and B’s and the other is on the Honor Roll. Expecting the same grades out of both of them is unreasonable. Instead, I expect something much more important from both of them. I expect them to do their absolute best. If the best a child can do in a given subject is a C-, then expect that C- and don’t be satisfied with a D+. More importantly, don’t let your child be satisfied with it either. And praise and reward that child as much for the C- as you do other child for making the Honor Roll.

Never bribe a child to get them to behave. Once you do this, you’re stuck with it and the bribes never stop…and always get bigger.

Did I mention being consistent?

Be careful what you promise a child because even if you forget, they won’t. And it won’t matter to the child if you shouldn’t have promised because it isn’t good for them or they’re too little or it’s too late or it’s a school night. All the child will understand is that you lied.

Don’t be perfect. Three little words but they cover a whole lot of ground including but not limited to:

Admit when you’re wrong. Then make it right.

Admit it if you don’t know something. Then go find out.

Fight with your spouse in front of your children. Then make up in front of them. Before you start heating up the tar, let me explain. Children need to understand that there are good ways and bad ways to fight or disagree. They also need to understand that, even if you and your spouse fight, you still love each other and you’re both willing to compromise – that sometimes one of you wins and sometime the other one does – and that no one holds a grudge. And that regardless of who wins, life and your marriage… and the childs family goes on. Of course, if you and your spouse can’t fight fair or can’t not hold a grudge then I’d recommend that you seek marriage counseling…and that you tell your child what you’re doing and why.

Punish immediately. Never say, “When you get home you’re getting a spanking!” If the child deserves a spanking, do it then. If that means you have to leave wherever you are then leave. But never delay punishment. It’s cruel.

Let your child see your emotions. Let them see joy. Let them see love. Let them see heartache. Let them see anger. And let them see you handle your emotions in a good way.

And finally – be consistent.

By the way, I should mention that these rules are really for small children. Everything here is subject to change as children grow – except the part about how you should always be consistent. And the part about the hugs. And saying, “I love you.” Those never change.