One week to go...

I am having total knee replacement next week.  I've gone through all the pre-op meetings and prep.  I am not at peace with the idea but I am determined to go through with it.  I have thought about cancelling the surgery.  But I have also gone five years now, maybe more, thinking that I need this done.

I worry about the recovery and the time to full function, or what they define as full function following the surgery.  I worry less about pain management; apparently pain management is the most worrisome factor for most who undergo the surgery.  I handle strong medication well and we have "prepared" the house as much as needed.

I don't look forward to the "end" of  recovery as much as I thought I would.  In the past, looking forward through both of my ACL reconstructions, I fervently anticipated the end-result of surgery as it meant a return to pre-injury activities.  The surgery I am about to undergo is different from ACL reconstruction.  The end-state is freedom to undertake a certain level of activity that might be dramatically different from that from which I am presently limited, but only by my pain tolerance.

In other words, I can go out and run 10K today if I desire but I typically do not because I do not enjoy the day of pain that would surely follow even if I treated myself acutely beforehand.  After knee replacement, I will never run another ten feet.  Ever again.  Even though the point of joint replacement is to gain freedom from osteoarthritic pain.  The replacement prosthetic, even in these modern times, is still not considered a lifetime device.  And so patients are strongly cautioned from certain activities that could damage the device, cause the need for surgical revision of the altered joint, or both of these things!

And so I rationalize where once I looked forward.  I hate the walk up the beach from the water's edge after a surf.  Walking in the sand is too trying with my arthritic knee.  The surgery, after recovery, will spare me that agony.  Walking in the woods is hardly pleasant when you have to watch every step and the focus takes away from larger enjoyment of the outdoors.  The surgery, after recovery, will enable me to get into the beautiful mountains that define this region of the country, and spend a day walking uphill without the prospect of a post-hike cocktail of ibuprofen and ice.

As so continues the countdown.

Seattle is so dang groovy

Look. I'm a 50 year old white guy. Should I like this stuff? Well I don't like it. I love it.


Mash Hall Hi Fivin My Cousin



Brothers from Another Molly Moons



SOTA ExtraHellaDope

Baseball 2012: The Most Valuable Player

I am a sopping wet fan of Mike Trout.  To me he's the picture of everything good in a baseball player.

Dirty and hungry for more
In baseball, the dirty uniform can say more about a player's character than any of the old or new performance statistics.  That uniform speaks to hard play, determination, and competitive desire; and not every player is willing to get dirty.  These palpable factors go beyond reflecting on individual performance as they influence and even lift the play of the team.  And there is no doubt that Trout lifted his team from a strikingly moribund start, liberating several superstar veterans from self-imposed, self-pressurized slow starts.  As a result, his team was a viable contender for much of the season.


There is no doubt that my feelings about Trout are prejudiced by my love for my son and the way he too plays baseball.  Although I am loathe to actually compare Jacob to Mike, the general tell-tales are present.  The dirty uniform.  The ever-present smile, even when he's pitching; despite telling him it might benefit him to be a bit more intimidating on the mound, his smile never undermines his performance.  The happy-go-lucky bounce on the practice field, even in the face of the tough-love coaching he gets in his travel program.  The hustle on the field and the discipline to put in the work to improve one's game when off the field. 

Jacob getting dirty at Shortstop at 11U

In Jacob, these are natural behaviors that come unforced.  He's played this way since he insisted I let him join a YMCA t-ball team before his 4th birthday.  His passion and dedication took him from being an unknown 9U player in a new league, to making his first of several all-star teams, to getting selected by his present program and improving each year therein.  He's not a kid that has ever made anyone say "wow" walking onto the field.  But he's always made informed observers and kind parents alike say "wow" when coming off the field.

And so you have my utterly personal, daddy-ball rationale for loving Mike Trout.  The young man is no surprising high achiever as he was drafted in the first round of MLB's annual amateur player draft.  But it's notable that this 21 year old kid was drafted behind 26 other players, none of whom provided anywhere near the same value to their team this year.

There are all manner of more technical arguments that are and will be levied in the next few days and weeks both for and against Trout as MVP.  Unfortunately, those arguments will break down along simplistic lines depending whether the arguer is adherent to so-called "old" or "new" baseball statistics.  The conversation will miss the point but the media will perpetuate it because the adherents are passionate and the discussion drives page-views and cable TV watchers.

But those that really "observe" baseball when they watch it will know.  I count myself in that group.  The folks arguing against Trout will resort to what I believe is an utterly intellectually lazy assertion that attaining the Triple Crown of baseball is so rare that it makes the Triple Crown winner the MVP by default.  In trying to start a discussion on the topic after hearing a local talk radio host predictably take that stance, I wrote the following on Facebook:

The Triple Crown of baseball is based on high achievement in three statistical categories, one of which is as reliant on the performance of other teammates as it is the hitter himself. It does not measure defensive ability and in fact ignores how many runs the hitter gave back to the other team while playing in the field. Both of these facts, while not diminishing the accomplishment of winning the Triple Crown, completely undermine it as an element to be considered (let alone a determinative factor) when deciding on MLB's most valuable player. The fact that this year a Triple Crown winner will also be voted the MVP demonstrates yet again the utter laziness of those in the 4th Estate that cover the sport (and thus vote on the matter). Mike Trout is so clearly the MVP this year that I think we're going to have to redefine the criteria for the award if he doesn't win it. There, I said it.

The Triple Crown is rare but is a simple matter of assembling three old counting statistics to indicate supremacy: batting average, total home runs, and total runs batted-in.  Rarity here does not automatically connote value the way it might in a market.  But romantic linkage to a baseball era in which Carl Yastzremski last won the honor 45 years ago appears to have overwhelmed the logical reasoning abilities of most of the commentators who sputter they just cannot believe anyone could see it any other way.

Not content to leave well enough alone, I added the following on Facebook:

Not sure why this Triple Crown stuff matters to me so much. Probably because my son's game is (dare I say it) far more like Mike Trout's than Miguel Cabrera's. Hustle, dirty uniforms, good defense, and lifting your teammates will always be more valuable traits than individual counting statistics to me. That and the folks arguing the opposite are so freaking intellectually lazy. Then again, sports talking heads have never been a bastion of critical thinking.

There's not much more to say at this point.  My point of view is a minority one.  Not many will even read this and fewer still will be interested enough to engage the conversation.  But it's nice to have the opportunity in this day and age to put this out there.  And if you happen to be a college baseball recruiter, my son just might be ready for you in a couple of years.  That is, if you value a smiling, hard working kid in a dirty uniform.

ExtraHellaDope

Seattle hip hop has plenty of flavor, including Fresh Espresso.  The question for these guys is dope or not dope?  I've heard this group derided as "hipster hop."  I'm no hipster but I kinda like it.

Ready to fly on the streets...

You know you wouldn't have heard it if you hadn't come here first!

The Lows of Joyous Chaos

Yesterday, I tried to summarize a few observations following my son's first month of high school.  That he chose to apply to an all-boys high school in downtown Seattle certainly added a major wrinkle to this step in his education.  I think had he simply ascended to the public school serving our neighborhood, as did his friends from middle school, we might be seeing fewer of the sorts of challenges he grapples with now at his new school.

I already mentioned a few of the structural challenges presented by attending his school; commuting, lack of familiarity of place, and a general lack of familiarity with the student body.  He is also challenged in class, mostly by his need for better time management, and from a general lack of familiarity with the stylistic demands of writing real papers and handing-in clean homework.  Notice that I do not believe he has much actual difficulty with the subject matter.  Nevertheless, his present challenges and his behavioral responses to them give him enough with which to contend.

But what of my role in the lows of having a freshman boy?  My main weakness as a dad resides in modelling poor responses to tough moments he experiences.  So when he reacts to unfamiliar demands in school work, he tends to hide his weakness either by seeking out mom, or by blustering his way through work with poor effort just to "get it done."  I am certain he wants to avoid generating my usual, overtly dismissive response to any display of inadequacy on his part.

He knows I can't stand even casual statements like, "this doesn't make sense."  Because of course it makes sense so what's the problem?   My responses are strong and quick and no doubt affect my son like so many bites from a snake.  These reactions reflect my most contemptuous personality trait.  Although I care not to psychoanalyze myself in these musings, I'm sure I could use some counseling and personality work.  More on that some other time perhaps.

As you might imagine, under the load of several honors classes, a really foreign language, playing in the school band and drumline, a new sport (to go with the old one), new classmates, and a commute, the kid has a lot to manage.  He doesn't need my crap.  And although I can help on any of his school subjects (including Japanese), he needs more than my help.  He needs me to respond in an appropriately fatherly way, with abundant patience, and toughness in reserve.  When he gets stupid while working with us on an assignment, I need to offer him pathways through problems rather than remonstrating in response.  "But this is so easy!" I'll whine.  Maybe for him it's not.

This is one of the primary roles of a boy's parents according to therapist and gender-learning expert, Michael Gurian.  Gurian is the author of several fine books on boy-learning including the influential volume, The Wonder of Boys which I bought when Jacob was only a year or two.  I never finished the book until the end of last year, having learned during our due diligence that Jacob's high school is a Gurian Model school integrating an intentional (rather than default) boy-centered curriculum and classroom.  In fact, our learning about Gurian and his theories on boy-learning was a central motivator for allowing Jacob to apply there.

One of the central tenets in The Wonder of Boys is that boys are better taught (and thus raised) as members of overlapping, sequentially larger communities starting with the nuclear family, but surrounded by larger elements including classrooms, sports teams, and eventually the community in which the family resides.  By extension, modelling poor behavior at the most familiar level, can undermine the overall structure on which the boy should otherwise rely.  Think, "if my dad's a dick, why should I listen to my coach/teacher/spiritual leader?"  Or for that matter, other authoritative figures including community leaders and police.

So last night, while expressing displeasure at the hasty and lackadaisical attention my bright boy gave what should have been a quick but thoughtful essay, I acted up only to reinforce poor response to a moment of difficulty.  I've done this before and hate myself for it. I ruined a teachable moment overcome and angered unecessarily by what appeared to me to be his indifference to the assignment.  Not only did he not learn, but he did not reengage, and the rest of his workload was hindered.

It's almost funny, in re-reading my thoughts here now, that the problems I focus on are mine and not his.  Fortunately, my (far-more-well-grounded-than-I) wife knew enough to say that this was just a weak moment for each of us.  There will be such moments.  There will also be great ones.  Which I hope to write about next.

The Perfection of Joyous Chaos

Jacob's now experienced his first full month of high school.  Academics, athletics, social activities, commuting...the whole nine.  And mom and I have been riding shotgun like a hilarious posse trying keep our robust, little gun-slinger on mission.  There have already been a series of highs and lows in every regard.  As one of my Facebook acquaintances said, himself a recent high school grad and now a freshman collegiate baseball player, "Tell him to buckle up; it's a heckuva ride."

 Jacob's school is a private, boys-only high school located in downtown Seattle.  The school's academic and athletic reputations attract student-athletes from around Puget Sound.  The school's location means almost the entire student body commutes.  Jacob commutes with mom, whose professional office is located in Seattle's Central Business District (the "CBD") about eight or nine long blocks from the school.  While he's lucky he's spared a long ride in on Metro or Light Rail, his participation in band requires his presence during zero period starting at 7:05.  Surprisingly, the early hour has not proven as difficult as I expected.

What has taken some getting used to is his self-management.  Or lack thereof.  He has no extraordinary problem in this regard, but as I am growing to understand, 14 year-old boys cannot be expected to fully manage themselves.  Said another way, only an extraordinary kid could remember to assemble and pack the car with his full football kit on Monday mornings, remember and complete every piece of homework assigned from three honors courses and Japanese language (itself something of an "honors" class), prepare and study for every test, practice drums 30 minutes a day, continue little bits of his arm rehab from this summer, attend football practice three days a week, play a game on Thursday, play in the drum line on Friday for the Varsity games, and practice with his high-commitment travel baseball program on Saturday and Sunday.

Yes, he loses track of things here and there.  Yes, he was stressed out when having been a bit too choosy (as his friends said), he did not have a homecoming date until it was too late.  And yes, he probably harbors some small bit of resentment that he can't just take the skateboard outside when he wants and kick off a few ollies with the neighborhood kids.  But holy crap if he isn't proud as heck of how he's integrating into this school, with it's burgeoning brotherhood and forward-looking approach to giving these boys an opportunity to become young men while preparing them for college and life thereafter.

Although identifying life lessons in a kid's experience can run toward the cliche, he knows he has to be more attentive to the manner in which teachers assign outside work.  Mom and I have the benefit of the school's online resources such as "Powerschool" and individual teacher websites which track class work and student individual progress.  And with his own "office" and computer now available to him at home, he can always log on himself.

But knowing that he is in transition has given me, the dad, the room to recognize that the pressure of instant high achievement is unrealistic and pronouncements of unrealistic expectations are counterproductive. He's got a lot on his plate and I do not need to make what for him could be joyous imperfection into a source of serious personal stress. He's not performing perfectly.  But he's doing great.  He's growing up differently than I did; not better or worse.  Just differently.  And so far, I am growing to understand that's perfectly fine .