For those of you out there who think you’ve seen everything on the Internet, have you ever pondered the existence of cats that look like Hitler?
We went off today on a seemingly innocuous bike trip to a local park. The park is about 6 miles away, and as a round trip, it was a reasonable ride for my boys, especially since they haven’t been out much this year. When you get to the park, there is a fairly steep windy trail from the bike path down into the park. It’s a good 50 feet of elevation, and the path winds back and forth like a mountain switchback road. And off the one side of the trail is a fairly steep drop down to a wooded tree line.
So I lead the pack down the trail, followed by my older son, followed by Evel Knievel. Evel manages the first turn and heads into turn two, toward the drop off. At this point he’s sporting no brakes, no common sense, and a perverse lack of respect for the laws of physics. I glance back just in time to see him kick out of turn two and vanish from sight over the drop off. I don’t hear a sound, not a crash, not a scream, nothing.
I drop my bike and run back along the tree line toward where he vanished. I’m calling to him. I don’t see a thing. I can’t hear anything except my older son running behind me muttering, “This can’t be good.” Finally I come to a break in the brush at the tree line. Just in the woods I can see his bike, so I run toward it. As I get closer, it’s apparent he’s under the bike. His eyes are open, but still not a sound. But the good news is that he also does not appear to be in any anatomically improbable positions.
I pull the bike out and he begins to get up, always a good sign. And further assessment says he seems to be fine except a few decent scrapes on his legs and a grass stain on a favorite shirt. Well that’s a relief. We head to a nearby picnic table to pull ourselves together a bit. I grab an ice pack from my cooler and he puts it on his scraped leg. I comment that it’s a good thing he had his helmet on. He snaps back that he didn’t hit his head!! “Oh,” I say as I pick dirt and plants from the helmet vents and run my fingers over the fresh scratches.
But now for the big test. We’re still six miles from home. A point he’s apparently pondering as he asks how we’re going to get there now. So I ask if he thinks he can ride. He’s not too sure, but I point out that he’s not limping when he walks. The skin is tender, but beyond that he seems fine. He’s thinking about it. I assure him that we’ll take it at his pace, and we can stop if we need to. Effecting a rescue isn’t going to be any harder or easier at any point between here and home.
I wasn’t really sure what the outcome was going to be. To his credit, he decided he was going to try. And darned if he didn’t make it all the way back. I was really proud of him. It would have been easy to have bagged it at that point and just refused to try. But he sucked it up, got back on the horse, and played through the pain. He may not think so right now, but he got a lot stronger today.
I’m taking the assist on that as my Father’s Day gift.
Sherry Argov has a new book titled, “Why Men Marry Bitches: A Woman’s Guide to Winning Her Man’s Heart.” My initial reaction was that maybe they do, but they don’t stay married to them. The author is right, men tend not to respect weak needy women. While being served a cold beer by your babe in lingerie is a great fantasy moment now and again. It gets tired (or so I would suspect) on a daily basis. Women who exude confidence and are able to manage their own lives are absolutely sexier.
However, American Heritage Dictionary defines “bitch” as a “woman considered to be lewd, spiteful, or overbearing.” The notion of “confidence” doesn’t seem to appear anywhere. And this is concerning because (and I’ll be so bold as to speak for all men here) naked with beer has a hell of a lot more appeal than spiteful and overbearing – any day, in any quantity.
In reading the review further though, I think the title is mostly designed to grab your attention from the bookshelf at Barnes & Noble. Argov is advocating that women not be bitchy in the conventional sense. Rather she has redefined it to be women simply being less malleable, true to themselves, and in charge of their own lives. But she doesn’t seem to go so far as to suggest that women become shrews. Pfewww…
The book is clearly written to encourage the passive needy bride wannabes to grow a little spine. But I also think the book, “Why Men Divorce Bitches” should really be her next effort to balance this out. There are certainly more than a few women out there who’ve over-mastered the bitchy angle. I believe that for women, finding the balance between being confident and assertive and being aggressive and overbearing is a challenge. Our culture offers them a pretty narrow line to walk. In many ways, I think the struggle men find in balancing being sensitive without being wimpy is a similar tight rope to tread.
One quote in particular bears note. It is attributed to Sophia Loren. She said, “Beauty is how you feel inside, and it reflects in your eyes. It is not something physical.” I couldn’t agree more. And remember, that beauty reflecting through your eyes is perfectly complimented by garters and a cold lager – at least every now and again.
There was a big family gathering over the weekend, which gave my boys a chance to bond with their younger cousins. My nephew Brian was paticularly absorbed with the older boys, and if the prospect of my kids as role models doesn’t frighten you enough, read what my sister sent along from the aftermath.
I have to tell you what Brian said last night. He was running around with a balloon from the party pretending it was a kite like the one Tyler and Doug were flying at the park. He stops, looks at me tells me that he is going to be Tyler. He takes off running and yells ” I just want to see this damn kite crash”. Then he stops and gives me this big grin and says ” I know I can’t say that Mom, but I’m Tyler right now”
You have to give the boy credit for thinking before he speaks. It was one of those moments where it was hard not to laugh.