Knowing What Is Best: The Value of Another's Perspective (Life Changing Moments Series)

The following story from Kelly Williamson is one that speaks to me personally, though I'll refrain from giving away her story since she does an excellent job of presenting it herself. Kelly is an assistant principal at an elementary school, a new position she took after teaching for 10 years. She's always loved to write, and for much of her life considered writing a hobby, working on short stories, picture books, and personal narratives for her own enjoyment. As a teacher, she shared much of her writing with her students. She's always had the philosphy that a writing teacher has to be a writer first and use that material as a way to exemplify the process for students. Kelly's family is currently dealing with the effects of her mother's sudden mental breakdown and refusal to seek treatment. Her mother's complete change in personality has been a tragic loss, and this experience has drawn Kelly into writing with a passion greater than she's ever felt. Learn more about Kelly via her blog, http://kellyannwilliamson.blogspot.com/.

Kelly Williamson, mother/daughter

Christmas morning at our house has always been joyful, even when my husband and I were first starting out and had little extra to spend. For me, it’s never been about the gifts but having time to enjoy and appreciate special moments with family. The anticipation of seeing my children walk into the living room to gaze at the wonders Santa has left usually causes me to lose sleep on Christmas Eve. This year, I lost sleep, but more because of a painful realization that this Christmas was going to be difficult. Waking up that morning, I had no idea how right I was to dread the events about to play out.

Several days before Christmas, my mother was hospitalized in a mental health facility for the second time in as many months. The pain of that reality consumed my family in the days leading up to the holiday, but we were all doing our best to preserve what we could for the sake of my two children. They would miss the big turkey dinner at my parent’s house and all the festivity that went with it. The day would not be the same, but we had to try. My mother had made it clear: She did not want to see any of us, but we had a plan, and we were ready to put on brave faces for the sake of the kids. Then, the phone rang.

A Decision to Make
The sound of my mother’s voice was comforting, though her words were agonizing, “I know I said I didn’t want to see you today, but this is my favorite holiday. Can you come see me? I want to see the kids.”

My husband was in the shower, readying himself for the day, when she called. “Who was that on the phone?”

I explained to him that she had called and wanted us to bring the kids to see her. I told him how she had a room set aside for the visit. He looked down at the floor, and I knew I was asking too much, yet there I stood, asking. As he looked me in the eyes, I could see the mix of emotions he felt at that moment. It was hard for him to see me in such pain, and he had done everything in his power to help me through this tragedy, but this was more than he could give.

“I cannot let you bring the kids there. That is not a place for them, and certainly not on Christmas Day. You can go, but the kids are staying with me.”

Giant tears rolled down my cheeks, raw from the sheer amount of time spent crying over the last several weeks, but I knew he was right. I had never been inside the hospital, and I had no idea what to expect. I was apprehensive about going myself, afraid of what I’d see. My head knew he was right, though my heart was torn apart.

We plodded our way through the day, making a few stops before ending up at my sister’s house for dinner. Dad wasn’t going to join us for dinner or presents; it was too painful for him, but he’d be there later so we could ride to the hospital together. My daughter, old and perceptive enough to get the gist of what was going on, asked if she could come with us to visit. I hugged her and told her she couldn’t, and as I peered over her shoulder, my sister nodded in agreement.

I could feel my heart pounding as I saw Dad’s headlights pull into my sister’s driveway. I once again approached my husband, asking if he was sure the kids shouldn’t go; it was Christmas, there was a room set aside. He was steadfast in his position, and I did not push.

As Dad came into the house, his face revealed the kind of day he’d had. “Ready?”

We grabbed our coats from the closet, and I had trouble making eye-contact. I knew he was wondering, and I didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Are the kids coming?”

“No. It’s not the place for them.”

“Okay, let’s get going. She’s expecting us.”

No Turning Back
As we drove, the car was mostly silent. At one point, my dad asked how the kids were doing. My sister mentioned how my daughter had wanted to come with us. My dad replied that we probably should have let her come, and my heart splintered into pieces. As we pulled into the parking lot, I was second-guessing my decision. Should I have tried harder to convince my husband? I felt paralyzed in the car, but I managed my way into the building, my heart beating out of control.

The buzzer sounded, and I saw her through the narrow window in the door, hair done up and wearing a festive red sweater. She smiled when she saw us, but I could see the look of concern as she came closer to the door.

“Where are the kids?” Her face was distraught. “Are they coming?”

“No, Mom, they aren’t coming. It’s been a rough day on them. They don’t understand what’s going on.”

She stormed down the hall and around the corner to the community room, where she sat at the head of a long table. We took seats around her and tried to make small talk, but she wouldn’t look at us. She was rummaging through a bag, pulling out papers and making piles on the table. She started talking about this being yet another disappointment, and we should not have even come. We tried to engage her, but she wanted nothing to do with us. She told us to leave, and my dad and sister led the way toward the exit. I lagged behind as she packed up her papers. I wanted to explain to her why I couldn’t bring them, that I was sorry she was struggling, but she brushed by without a glance in my direction. She escorted us to the door, and I had broken down at that point. Finally, she looked directly into my eyes.

“Thanks for ruining my Christmas, Kelly.”

With that the doors opened, and some EMT’s rolled past us with a disheveled man strapped to a gurney, obviously a new admission to the unit. The doors closed behind us, and I wanted to rush back. Why was seeing me not enough? Couldn’t she see that the kids didn’t belong in a place like this? Instead, I crumbled in the elevator, sobbing harder than I had in years.

It Was the Right Choice
That was over four months ago, and I will say that it took me a long time to get over what happened on Christmas Day. Being in the position of having to choose between your mother and your children is an impossible one, but we all thank our lucky stars that my husband had the clarity of mind to make the right decision. I was so emotionally involved that I was not capable of making the best decision.

She wanted them there, and if it had been up to me they would have gone, and that would have been wrong. An environment like that is highly unpredictable, and they could have seen or heard things that could have been frightening. They would have seen a man strapped to a gurney. On Christmas Day. I would have regretted that decision.

In life, when things get emotionally charged, there is no substitute for the perspective of someone less involved. Emotions can cloud our judgment, they can prevent us from seeing clearly and making wise judgments. From this devastating situation I have taken this lesson, it will guide my way into the uncertain future, and for that I will be eternally grateful.

*****

If you think you have a great life changing moment to share (and you probably have several), click here to learn how to get the conversation started. I'm sure if you think it's important, I may too.

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Check out previous posts from the Life Changing Moments Series:

• Is This Really What You Want: Or Unbecoming a Shark.
• You Look Like Your Mama Mated With a Rhino.
• Why I Give Back to Writers.

When Everything Changed (Blissfully Series)

Throughout 2012, I'll be sharing stories about myself on Sundays as part of this Blissfully series. My life has already had its share of good and bad moments, but these are the ones I consider the most important.

Happy sad house fire

I have to confess: I've been coming up with excuses not to write this post for the past few weeks. My life, my perspective on life is a good one, but it hinges on a set of dark events in a relationship that I'd never wish on another person.

Relationships are funny in that they can seem to be traveling along one trajectory for the longest time. Then without warning, that trajectory can suddenly and permanently change--for better or worse.

I mentioned in an earlier post how I was always a happy child. I'd run up to strangers in public and give them hugs. I always smiled (still do, in fact). And I attribute this happiness to my home life.

My brothers and I would sleep together in the same room and bathe together in the same tub. We'd cuddle with our parents on the couch. Our parents--both of them--would tuck us in and hug and kiss us good night.

We were all so affectionate that I'm not even sure when the lines started getting crossed. Instead of taking baths with my brothers, I was taking them alone with my father--unaware there was anything weird about that arrangement.

I was around six years old when I started becoming aware. That's when my father took it upon himself to teach me a new sort of kiss in which he'd put his tongue--huge and warm--into my mouth, and I was supposed to do the same back to him.

"It's called a French kiss," he said, "and you need to put it in my mouth longer. Like this."

That's when everything started to change, and something new and strange began to dominate my life. And it's when I started keeping a secret that would not be told for nine long--and lonely--years.

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Check out these other posts from the Blissfully series:

• The Good Side of My Father.
• I Began as Eyelashes Blocking the Sun.
• The Strangers Who Watched Me.

Secret to Good Parenting #1: Have Fun!

As a parent of five, I often stress myself out over whether I'm doing a good job with my boys and girl. At times, it feels like my primary job descriptions are "breaker up of fights" and "clean up your room proclaimer," not to mention "lord of get your homework done already."

Yeah, there are times when I feel like a real downer, though I realize the importance of not always giving in to what the boys want. But that's the real problem of being a parent: trying to walk the fine line of teaching values and still being someone the kids love to be around.

Robert Lee Brewer, after taking a pie
in the face at a Cub Scout pack meeting.

So I've tried adding other descriptions to my job as father, such as "taker of pies in the face" and "tickler of ribs." When the situation gets too edgy in the Brewer household, it's time to play a game or take a walk outside. Or it's time to read a book.

After all, it is important to teach values and life lessons, but it's also just as important to build loving memories and traditions that can be passed on to the next generation--as long as that next generation doesn't happen any time soon.

Remember: Goggles make a whip cream
pie in the face much more enjoyable.

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Check out previous Not Bob posts:

• When I Learned to Actively Pursue Happiness.
• You Look Like Your Mama Mated With a Rhino.
• The Golden Rule to Everything.

I Began as Eyelashes Blocking the Sun (Blissfully Series)

Welcome to the Blissfully series of blog posts I'm doing for 2012. Every Sunday, I'll be sharing a personal post about my past. The title of the series is taken from the song "The View," by Modest Mouse: "And if it takes shit to make bliss, then I feel pretty blissfully." I've had some good moments and some bad moments, and the Blissfully series will share the ones I consider the most important to my life.

Robert Lee Brewer (Painting by Didi Menendez)

The world began for me--my first memory--as black lines and sunshine. For the longest time, I thought I was viewing gigantic blades of grass. It wasn't until I was much older that I could appreciate the length of my own eyelashes. Instead of viewing Whitman's leaves of grass, I realized I began as eyelashes blocking the sun.

For years and years, I misinterpreted my own first memory. As such, take these memories for the faulty and flimsy things they are. I promise I will do my best to accurately capture the various important moments of my life. When possible, I'll try to protect the identities of the folks involved--though there will be moments when that is impossible. (Sorry in advance, identities I can't protect.)

Whether by grass or eyelashes, I've always considered the black lines and sunshine memory a comforting one, though I could understand it being interpreted as scary for others. Maybe that's why I was always known as a happy kid. My mom used to tell me how I would run up to strangers in public and give them hugs. Even now, I receive feedback from people on how I always seem to be smiling. It's just part of my DNA to look on the bright side of things.

Unfortunately, this series of posts will not just be a collection of hugs and sunshine. In fact, some posts may even have a little note at the beginning to warn of graphic content. That said, I do think everything that happens--the good, the bad, and the in between--is supposed to happen. So I may have made it through some bad moments, but there aren't any black clouds hanging over me. They made me who I am.

But my life (and this series) is not just a collection of bad news. There will be good posts to balance out the bad. I'm going to attempt to go in chronological order. I'm going to attempt to be accurate. I'm going to attempt not to hit my head anymore.

This post began with my first memory, and I shared my mom's memory of me running up to hug strangers (kids, do not follow my example). I'll end this post with another shared memory. It's about when I got a scar over my right eye. It's harder to see now than when I was a child, when it was very obvious.

The story goes like this: My father was driving with my brother David and I in our unsecured car seats, and he got into a wreck. My unsecured seat flew face first into the dashboard. Apparently, face covered in blood, I kept just touching the blood and looking at my fingers without crying. Meanwhile, David dangled upside down bawling away.

As a child hearing this story, I always used it as proof that I was somehow tougher than other people. It's a perfect example of what doesn't kill you makes you psychologically stronger. Of course, I'm now smart enough to know the only reason I wasn't crying is that I probably suffered a concussion. David reacted appropriately.

Anyway, there's the truth of what happened, and there's the truth according to us. History--even a personal history--is a complicated journey. I hope you enjoy the ride.

*****

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Learn more about me and my peeps in these posts:

• My Father is Running for President.
• How to Pack for a Hurricane Chase.
• Confession of a Man With a Moustache.

My Father is Running for President (in New Hampshire anyway)

So a little earlier this year, I learned that my father was trying to drum up some money to get on the Republican primary ballot in New Hampshire. Then, I learned he did register. Earlier today, my brother sent a bunch of links (included below) that covered a debate with the lesser known candidates.

Timothy Brewer, Republican primary candidate
and my father. Credit: Marc Nozell.

My brain has been trying to process the best way to handle this information on my blog for a while now, but I don't think there is a best way. In 2012, I'll be sharing personal stories on Sundays throughout the year. Some of those will involve my father--just as some of my poetry has involved my father--and that will probably help add context to our relationship.

In the meantime, enjoy these links about Republican primary candidate Timothy Brewer:

• Lesser known candidates in the spotlight. AP story on BostonHerald.com. My father's name is Timothy Brewer--just in case the last name wasn't a good enough clue.
• Lesser-Known Candidates Square Off In Manchester. WMUR-New Hampshire has some video from the event. At least my father is not wearing a boot on his head.
• There are other candidates to choose. 6abc.com (in Philly) gives my father the lead in this piece on the December 19 debate.
• Dayton area man running for president. This piece ran in the Dayton Daily News, which was the paper I grew up reading for stat lines and commentary on Cincy sports teams. Oh yeah, and the comics.
• Timothy Brewer on large field of candidates. In this video, my father dodges his question and sticks to his primary message about orbs, Jesus, and the afterlife.
• Lesser Known Presidential Candidates Make Their Case in New Hampshire. WBIN-TV spot features my father around the 42-second mark. He's one of 40 Republican candidates in the New Hampshire primary.
• Part 1 Lesser-Known Candidates Form 12-19-11. This is one part of the debate. The rest is there for those who are interested. My father makes his 2-minute intro starting around the 8-minute mark. As my brother observed, he brought his Santa Claus hat with him--but probably decided against wearing it when he saw the guy with a boot on his head.

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Check out previous Not Bob posts:

• Most Popular NOT BOB Posts for Writers in 2011.
• 6 Tips for Writers to Own New Facebook Timelines.
• Confession of a Man With a Moustache.

The Meaning of Baptism for Our Family

(Note: This post is a little different for me. While I do get personal on here, I don't normally talk much about my religion or faith--and I don't anticipate that changing anytime soon. My philosophy is that everyone has their own path to follow, and this is mine. So please read this post with an open mind and heart, or don't read it at all.)

Yesterday, I mentioned that 2011 brought a few firsts in my life. I also mentioned that another first would happen today, and here's what happened: Tammy, Reese, Will, Hannah, and I were all baptised together as a family and individually as Christians.

After being members of the Duluth First United Methodist Church for around a year now, Tammy and I decided the time was right to express our faith through baptism. As one of the sacraments given to the church by Jesus Christ, baptism is an essential to salvation for Methodists, though people are not saved by baptism alone.

Growing Up Outside the Church
I grew up outside the church with a few connections on the inside. My grandparents would take us from time to time. A couple friends across the street would bring us along a couple times while we were in elementary school. I remember going to Sunday school and then sneaking off to get candy at a nearby gas station.

As I grew older, I only seemed to move even further from God. I remember having conversations in which I argued against the possibility of God in high school. In college, I seemed to only find more ammunition in my campaign against God and Christianity in particular. I remember even thinking that organized religions were the same as faceless corporations that are riddled with greed and corruption.

Then Something Changed
My first wife has grandparents who are members of the Methodist church in Southwest Ohio. I can say with certainty that Ann and Freeman James of Lindenwald United Methodist Church played an important role in my faith journey. In fact, they still do.

They encouraged me to get out to church and invited me to attend an Alpha Course program with them that lasted 3 months. I took this course in early 2003, so it took these early seeds--when my mind and heart was open--to make me question my worldviews over the next eight years.

Or maybe I should say that even with these early seeds, it took me more than eight years to get where I am today.

So What Happened After That Course?
Within two years of taking the course, my first wife and I separated (with the intention of getting divorced), I found myself in significant debt, and I had to move into my father's house. Plus, I felt like a horrible father (because of the impending divorce) and a failure in many ways.

It's times like these that you really have to dig deep into yourself, and I found myself starting to write poetry with abandon--in a way I had not since my college days. I started running and filling my spare time with work. There were days that I felt like the world was going to end, and there were days that felt like they had unlimited potential. I was all over the place.

Around three years after the separation, Tammy and I started getting involved. Much like myself, she'd grown up around but not exactly in the Baptist church. Neither of us had been baptised or attended with any regularity.

Then Things Got Serious
Actually, that's an inside joke between Tammy and I, but we did get serious enough to meet each other in Ohio (where I lived) and Georgia (where she lived)--and Tennessee (where my grandma lives). When we met in Tennessee, we went to my grandma's little Baptist church next to the lake, and we've been there a few times since.

When we decided to get married on 8/8/08, we asked my grandma's boyfriend to marry us (and last year, he married my brother David and my sister-in-law) in Tennessee. He had a talk with us before and after the ceremony about the faith element involved in marriage, and I think that meant a lot to both of us.

Will dressed for his baptism.

So over the next couple years, Tammy and I talked about checking out a church, but it's scary. Especially for me, I almost felt like it was too late for me to join a church, because I wasn't baptised. Though part of my brain knew this was wrong, another part just felt like I had to be raised in the church to be a part of the church.

Duluth First United Methodist Church
I first started going to DFUMC on Monday nights--not for church, but for Cub Scouts. Last year, Reese started Cub Scouts, and I volunteered to be the den leader for Den 2 of Pack 420. I'm on my second year now, and it's been a fun experience. But it was this initial involvement with the church building that eventually prompted Tammy and I to try attending a few services.

It didn't take long for Tammy and I to decide that we liked the atmosphere, the people, and the leaders of DFUMC. One thing I appreciate about the Methodist church in general is that it's very open and inclusive. This church in particular seemed (and still seems) even more so. So we joined the church last December.

Hannah excited for her baptism too!

Since we've been members, we've continued with Cub Scouts; we took a United Methodism 101 course that helped us learn more about the history, beliefs, and structure of the Methodist church; we enrolled Will in a Christian Beginnings preschool class (which he loves!); and this morning, we were baptised!

We've had a great year of growth as a family and as Christians, and we intend to continue our development together as a family. Baptism is only one rung in the ladder, but it's an important enough one that I felt it was worth sharing.

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Check out previous Not Bob posts:

• Confession of a Man With a Moustache.
• My New Weekend Routine.
• Every Day Matters: The Importance of Living Every Day Like It's Your Last.

What Happens When Thanksgiving Plans Are Blown Up

Some of you may have noticed a slight decrease in posting the past few days. That's about the only thing that's gone according to plan for me this week of the turkey.

Getting a Christmas tree was about all that went to plan this week.

Now, don't get me wrong. I had an excellent week filled with food, family, and tradition. However, most everything happened in a different way than I expected.

The Original Plan

• Thursday (11/17): Drive up to Ohio, possibly stop in at the new Cincy office, and stay the night at my grandfather's house.
• Friday (11/18): Go in to work at new Cincy office before having off-site meeting. Then, pick up my Ohio boys (Ben and Jonah) to head down to Georgia.
• Saturday (11/19): Have fun!
• Sunday (11/20): Go to church before Foster family Thanksgiving (done in advance).
• Monday (11/21): PTO day. Have fun!
• Tuesday (11/22): Pack for trip to Ohio for Brewer family Thanksgiving.
• Wednesday (11/23): Hit road for Ohio in early morning hours. When in Ohio, get groceries for Thanksgiving.
• Thursday (11/24): Brewer family Thanksgiving extravaganza!
• Friday (11/25): Visit National Museum of the US Air Force in Dayton, Ohio.
• Saturday (11/26): Take Ben and Jonah to their home before joining my brothers to watch the Ohio State-Michigan game, then head back to Georgia with Tammy, Reese, Will, and Hannah.
• Sunday (11/27): Go to church and get a Christmas tree to decorate.

What Happened...
The first change in schedule was actually a nice surprise. The Friday meeting was cancelled, which did a few things. First, it allowed me to get more actual work done before taking my PTO. Second, it allowed Ben and Jonah time to attend their cousins' (Noah and Preston) birthday party on Saturday afternoon while I drove up from Georgia during the day. Third, it gave Ben and Jonah a little extra time to fully recover from a stomach bug they suffered through earlier in the week. Win-win-win!

The one downside of this change is that we didn't make it in until very early on Sunday morning, so we were too exhausted to make it into church on that morning. That was a bummer, but we still made it to the Foster family Thanksgiving at my father-in-law's house. Great food and times! Plus, my mother-in-law offered to take Ben, Jonah, and Reese out (with their cousin Sean) to watch a movie, which helped open up time for me to pack for Ohio. Score!

The only thing that I thought could go wrong is that my brother Simon, the storm chaser, might not make it in time. He has a big heart, but he's not the most reliable person, especially when it comes to dealing with time. He's always at least a day later than he says. He agreed to help us get everyone up to Ohio without Tammy and I having to use both our cars, so I gave him a call on Sunday, and he said he'd be over on Monday or Tuesday. Good enough.

My brother Simon, the storm chaser, has a big heart...and axes.

On Monday, the boys and I had fun playing board games and such. We even got out to Chick-Fil-A so the boys could eat some nuggets and fries and run themselves ragged on the indoor playground. On Tuesday, we did some of the same. Plus, the older boys got out with their grandma and cousin to watch Puss in Boots.

Also on Tuesday, I called Simon in the morning to just ask when he thought he might be heading over. After all, the plan was to leave at 5 a.m. on Wednesday morning. He said he wasn't sure, but he was just going to help hang some Christmas lights and be over. Around 5 p.m., I was getting a little anxious (because it's a 4-hour drive), so I just called to check on him. "Taking a shower, then hitting the road. Don't worry." Around 8 p.m.--worried--I call again. "I'm packing up my car. Then, I'll be on my way." So yeah, like 9 p.m., he finally gives me a call that he's leaving. Sigh.

As needlessly frustrating as that situation turned out to be, I started to relax some. Simon wasn't going to make it over until Wednesday, but at least it would be before 5 a.m. That meant we'd at least be able to get up to Ohio at a decent time to do all our Thanksgiving grocery shopping. Everything from here on out would go according to plan, right?

Not So Fast...
Between 9 p.m. (when Simon left the Knoxville area) and 1 a.m. (when Simon arrived in the ATL area), Will puked not once but twice. Then, he puked again between 1 a.m. and 5 a.m., and Reese puked a few times for good measure. Apparently, the stomach bug Ben and Jonah had survived in Ohio struck in Georgia.

Tammy and I were forced to make a hard decision to send Simon up to Ohio by himself. Boy, did I feel bad about get frustrated with him about not showing up at a decent time only to make him drive down to Georgia for nothing. Plus, we were going to miss out on the first big Brewer family get together in a few years (one that I put some effort into helping organize too). Oh well, these things happen.

The bug passed quickly in both Will and Reese, and we had a great day on Wednesday despite it all. Plus, we got way too much food for our big Thanksgiving feast. It would still be a Brewer Thanksgiving--just a smaller sample size.

Thanksgiving
Tammy and I worked together to cook a ham, make fried taters, a Jello-strawberry-cream cheese-pretzel "salad," corn pudding, sweet potatoes (with marshmallows), stuffing, pie, and more by exactly noon. We all gathered around two tables slid together, held hands and prayed. Then, we all started eating until our bellies were beyond full.

Takes more than a stomach bug to keep us down on Thanksgiving!

After a little cleaning and lounging, we got out to a park before heading over to Tammy's mom's house (like me, her parents are divorced and re-married) for a Thanksgiving get together. From her mom's house, we continued our annual tradition of watching the tree lighting in the Lawrenceville square. Then, we booked it home in time for the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special. Life was great.

For the bedtime movie, Tammy and I decided to let the boys watch Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Sure, it's rated R, but that's really only for one specific scene, and it's not like they don't all already know that word. The boys loved the movie (a rare Thanksgiving movie), but they all fell asleep before the end, which was a good thing, because...

As The Movie Ended...
Tammy let me know that she now had the stomach bug the boys all carried. Then, we discovered that Hannah--without fussing at all--had puked too. Suddenly, it was almost midnight on Thanksgiving, and I was the only one to not experience this stomach bug. I felt like a marked man and was sure my time would come soon enough. Around 4 a.m. on Friday morning, it did.

Tammy and I suffered a great deal with this stomach bug on Friday. Kids seem to churn through these things in hours; parents work in days. Tammy and I could barely do anything all day, so with four boys and a baby girl in the house that surely spelled disaster, right? Surprisingly, no.

I'd have to say that Friday (11/25/11) will always be one of the days that I feel most proud of my boys. When I had trouble getting out of bed, they said they understood. If I heard one of them start to argue, I could hear the others start to make peace (instead of the usual fights). When it became obvious we wouldn't be able to get out and cut down a Christmas tree like we planned, none of them complained and said they understood. There were a ton of "I love you, Dad"s and they even asked if I needed anything throughout the day. I felt so bad that I was sick on Ben and Jonah's last day in Georgia, but I was also so proud of them. They really rose to the occasion.

Then Saturday...
I woke up early and hit the road with Ben and Jonah. We made great time up to Ohio. I dropped them off with their mom and headed back to Georgia. Since I was popping ibuprofen and Imodium AD, nothing too dramatic happened during the trip--and I actually made record time for me (only 18 hours!).

On Sunday...
We finally did something according to the Original Plan. We went to church and got a Christmas tree to decorate. Then, we decorated the tree while watching Christmas movies and shows we own on DVD. And so ends another Thanksgiving week.

I know I already had a thankful post this week, but I just want to really emphasize how lucky, blessed, and thankful I feel every day to have such an amazing wife, incredible boys (all four of them), and precious little girl (Hannah). Even when our plans are blown to smithereens, we find ways to make the most of what we got, and that's truly wonderful to experience.

*****

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*****

Check out previous Not Bob posts:

• Every Day Matters: The Importance of Living Every Day Like It's Your Last.
• Confession of a Man With a Moustache.
• The Golden Rule to Everything.

Road Trip

I officially started a week-long vacation last night for the Thanksgiving holiday week. This morning, I'm up early and getting ready to hit the road. Of course, I'm also stalling a little too. Soooo... before I hit the road, I thought I'd share some good travel music.

On the Road Again, by Willie Nelson. Too obvious? Impossible on a road trip.

She's a Lady, by Tom Jones. Good road music has to be upbeat and energetic and remind one of home. This song always reminds me of Tammy.

Tennessee River, by Alabama. This is a Brewer family staple on the road and even more so on a trip that will actually take me over the Tennessee River.

Suspicious Minds, by Elvis Presley. This is a great upbeat song that coincidentally is the prompt for today's 2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge on my Poetic Asides blog.

Evacuate the Dancefloor, by Cascada. It's energetic pop songs like these that keep me awake and focused on the road when it gets close (and beyond) the witching hour.

Anyway, this is my brief list of travel music. Do you have any road songs you typically play on trips?

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Plus, check out previous Not Bob posts:

• Stepping Into the Dark.
• My New Weekend Routine.
• Confessions of a Man With a Moustache.

Remembering 9/11 From the Midwest

I remember September 11, 2001, as the day that I started listening to talk radio. Up until that day, I always listened to music--unless I was listening to the Reds or Ohio State football. In fact, I'm sure I was clicking between music stations that morning during my 90-minute drive into work.

The New York City skyline as I grew up picturing it.

It was a Tuesday morning after all, and I always took advantage of our flex time to beat the Cincinnati traffic in the morning and evening by getting in at 7 a.m. and leaving by 3:30 p.m. There's something very quiet and productive about getting into the office 2 hours before most of your co-workers. I'm 100% sure that on that day nearly all my work was done by 9:30.

I didn't watch the clock, but maybe a little after 9 that morning is when I first heard about a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. Since I wasn't involved in the discussion, I just immediately assumed that they were talking about a small Cessna or something. After all, those little planes seem to crash every so often. No one stopped by my cube, so I just kept working under that assumption.

Maybe around 9:20 or so, I first heard the word "attack," but again, I was safely tucked away in my cube. So I jumped on CNN's website, and this is when I knew something weird was happening, because the site would not load. I tried a few other news websites, but they weren't loading either. My guess has always been that the traffic volume was crashing the sites. Eventually, I tried ESPN, and there were the Twin Towers with smoke billowing out. For the rest of my work day, ESPN is where I got my news on the attacks.

The last moments of the Twin Towers.

The rest of the work day was a blur. Somebody found a TV that I didn't watch. Video didn't stream online back then. So I actually did not see anything in motion until I got home that evening. However, rumors were in motion all day. First, New York was attacked and the Pentagon. Pennsylvania was attacked. People started claiming that attacks were under way in Florida and California. Of course, not everything panned out, but our world suddenly seemed more vulnerable.

When I left work, I remember walking out to my car in a surreal fog. Everything was so perfect outside, but I almost felt lost or out of place. I turned on the radio and that's when it started. I felt the need to know what was happening, and that's when I located NPR. It would be months before I started listening to music on the radio again.

On my 90-minute drive home through the city, then through the suburbs, and ultimately through Ohio farm country, I just kept looking up at the sky. It was blue. No birds. No clouds. No planes. It's like everything was grounded for the day.

At the time, my first wife and I were staying at her parent's house while our house was being built on the other side of the lake. (We'd move in a few weeks later.) When I got inside, I finally saw footage of the planes crashing into the towers. I watched it over and over again. I watched them fall down. I watched people jump. I watched people run. I watched people walk around in a daze.

My first born son, Ben, was two months old. He spent the first two weeks of his life in ICU, and now I wondered what kind of world I'd brought him into. We were under attack, and it seemed like only the beginning. Then, a huge explosion outside shook me to life.

My father-in-law, an ex-Marine, and I looked at each other and ran outside. Our neighborhood was filled with propane tanks, and my first thought was that one had exploded. We were under attack. I felt my stomach sink and thought, Here we go.

But when we got outside, I didn't see any smoke or fires. I didn't see men with guns and bombs strapped to their chests. I didn't see anything. Then, my father-in-law nudged me and nodded up. There were two jets speeding across the empty blue sky.

We'd heard a sonic boom when they broke the sound barrier. That was the end of our excitement for the day. I admit I had trouble getting to sleep that night. I kept imagining that terrorists would start the second wave at any moment.

Over the coming weeks and months, I saw all the vulnerable spots and targets that I would hit if I were a terrorist. I didn't feel safe on bridges or near the GE factory. The sky suddenly seemed more ominous. The world around me was the same as it had always been, but everything had somehow changed.

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These are my memories of 9/11/01. If you wish, you can share your memories below. Or check out these places that are sharing thoughts on a day when so much changed for so many:

• Poetic Asides. On my poetry blog, I've invited poets (after the suggestion of Bruce Niedt) to share poems they've written about 9/11 (old or new). 
• Writer's Digest with Brian Klems. Brian shared his story of that day. He and his future wife were working and living in Chicago at the time.
• Let's Keep Rolling. Rick Reilly of ESPN remembers Flight 93 (the one that ended up in a field in Pennsylvania).

I'll probably add more links as well throughout the weekend. If you know of any, please send me an e-mail or leave a comment below.

How to Pack for a Hurricane Chase

(NOTE: If you're not a trained chaser or meteorologist, do not think you can start chasing hurricanes--even if you're an amateur tornado chaser. Hurricanes are incredibly dangerous and bring a whole slew of risk factors that are often not present with twisters--from insane flooding to crazy police officers in dump trucks. This post is meant for fun and education, not to inspire a bunch of newbies to get themselves injured or killed.)

It's official. We're in the peak of hurricane season for 2011, which means my brother Simon (known as "Crazy Uncle Simon" to my kids) has been monitoring the National Hurricane Center website (among others) and analyzing models over the Atlantic and Gulf. As some of you may know, he's one of the main chasers on The Weather Channel's Storm Riders show.

Because of the track Hurricane Irene took recently, I got to spend a little time with my little brother as his crew used Atlanta, Georgia, as their meeting spot. If you'll remember, Irene was originally tracking to hit anywhere from southern Florida to completely missing the East Coast. They ended up catching the hurricane, which Simon said was more like a tropical storm, when it hit North Carolina.

Anyway, while he was here, he educated me on the gear he uses to chase hurricanes. He's developed his gear list over several years of chasing and many lessons learned in the process.

First, you need something to transport everyone and everything. Like an SUV.

Quick lesson learned: Simon and fellow famous chaser Reed Timmer were locked up in a jail in Slidell, LA, during Hurricane Katrina after being mistaken as looters. The experience nearly cost Simon and Jim their lives in a couple different ways. Ever since, Simon attaches emergency lights to his vehicles during hurricanes.

These are weather vane/anemometers. They measure the direction and speed of the wind and are essential to understanding what the hurricane is doing on the ground.

Storm chasers have to carry a big ax (or two)...

...and a chainsaw. Another lesson learned: In previous storms, Simon has had chases stalled or ended by debris, such as fallen trees, blocking the road. Axes and chainsaws help cut and remove the obstacles.

When you're dealing with hurricanes, you have to be prepared for high winds and projectiles. Goggles are an essential for protecting your eyes.

Similarly, helmets protect the noggin. And now, Simon (and fellow chaser Juston Drake) have camera mounts to provide a more personal view of the chase while they are out in the elements.

Also, bug spray. Believe it or not, storm chasers are not immune to bug bites!

The chasers are not the only ones who need protection. As you might've noticed, a lot of the gear is kept in plastic containers. Also, here are some camera casings for the storm footage that's caught.

No big project is possible without duct tape.

Or a lot of string!

Flashlights are an essential for any kind of trip. However, they can be life saver during storms which can make it pitch black even in the middle of the day.

And in Simon's line of work, he doesn't want to be caught without power for his flashlights or video cameras. So they pack extra batteries.

Maybe one of the most important "extras" they pack is a lot of water. The possibility of being stranded in a hurricane is higher than in most other situations. So having plenty of fresh water can be a life saver.

There are a few items of gear that a storm chaser doesn't want to break out. As in the movie Jaws, a storm chaser hopes to never have to resort to using a life jacket. But it pays to have one for a worst case scenario.

One more worst case scenario: The inflatable life raft. When Simon and Reed were stranded in Slidell, they had to wait for a boat to collect them well after the storm had passed. Lesson learned for any future possible stranded situations.

Finally, towels aren't going to save your life; but after dealing with a heck of a lot of water and wind, they'll help you feel more comfortable after the chasing is over.

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Want to learn more about Simon?
Check out his Stormgasm site, which has been around about as long as he's been chasing (with the rest of the Stormgasm crew). Besides that, be sure to keep an eye on The Weather Channel dial to catch the next Storm Riders episode!

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Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, Google+, and Tumblr. Also, sign up for e-mail updates over on the right.

And while you're at it, check out this blog post in which I use my brother Simon's passion for weather as an example of how writers should pursue their writing dreams.

I Hate Bad News (Giving and Receiving)

As an editor and as a parent (and heck, as a human being), I'm often forced into the role of delivering bad news. In my role as an editor, I often have to reject submissions or point out problems in submitted manuscripts. As a parent, I have to sometimes explain to my children that we still haven't won the lottery, so I can't buy everything that they happen to see at the store or think they absolutely need this very moment.

Plus, I've had my share of bad news as well. I mean, I was once a child who needed things all the time, and I'm a poet who would like (but doesn't have) a 100% acceptance rate, and I have dozens of ex-girlfriends and even an ex-wife. There's a lot of bad news that's been delivered to me over the years.

And I admit it: I don't like giving or receiving bad news. Not one bit. But it's something all of us have to face--unless we want to walk around with our ears plugged and our eyes closed, which is actually quite dangerous.

Giving Bad News
I've learned a thing or two about giving bad news over the years, and there's one way to immediately cut down on the amount of bad news you have to share: Don't promise anything that you're not 100% you can fulfill. There's a wide gap between wanting something to happen and knowing it will happen.

As a parent, don't tell your kids you'll take them to the playground unless or until you know you're going for sure. That way, they're not disappointed if something else comes up, and they'll be pleasantly surprised once you're on your way over there.

As an employee, don't tell your co-workers or boss that you're definitely going to finish a project early--unless you are 100% sure it's going to happen. After all, there's nothing worse than having to continuously extend deadlines on something you promised would be done a week or month (or more) earlier.

That said, sometimes you can't avoid delivering bad news. Here are some tips for doling it out:

• Get straight to the bad news. Don't beat around the bush or build an elaborate back story. Doing so will only make your audience anxious or impatient.
• Stop with the bad news. Don't keep going over the bad news or trying to make the news softer. The more you keep talking (or writing) the worse you make the bad news.
• Make yourself available for questions. Instead of going on and on after delivering the bad news, just say that you're open to answering any questions. Depending on the bad news you're delivering, you may get a million questions or zero. Either way, you've made yourself available.

Receiving Bad News
Whether it's a partner breaking up with you, a boss firing you, an editor rejecting you, a salesperson telling you they're out of stock on PS3s, thank the person for being straight forward enough to deliver the bad news. Believe me, in most cases, they feel as bad or worse than you do. I mean, just think of when you've had to deliver bad news.

Once you've given yourself a little venting or "figuring things out" time, try these tips for getting past the bad news:

• Remember that you're still alive. Even if your bad news is a doctor telling you that you've got terminal cancer, you can at least be happy that you've still got another day to enjoy life.
• Don't give in to the dark side. Star Wars fans know exactly what I mean. For everyone else, don't let your anger or hurt turn you into an ugly person (and I'm not talking physically ugly, but emotionally ugly). Bad news happens, but don't use it as an excuse to be mean, spiteful, or lazy.
• Search for a positive. Death in the family? Use it to feel thankful for the time you had with that person and to appreciate your own life and the lives of those around you. Broken relationship or lost job? It obviously wasn't meant to be. Don't dwell on something that wasn't meant to be; find what is.

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Listen, I don't like bad news. But it's essential to making us who we are. If you can master this art--or at least learn how to survive it--then you're doing better than most. And by better, I mean that you'll be happier than most, because people who avoid bad news aren't happy; they're just hiding.

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Connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, and Google+.

And don't forget to comment below if you have anything to add or debate in this post.

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Want to learn more on the subject of communicating and handling bad news? Check these out:

• How to Break Bad News: A Guide for Health Care Professionals, by Robert Buckman and Yvonne Kason
• Love Leadership: The New Way to Lead in a Fear-Based World, by John Hope Bryant
• Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion, by Robert B. Cialdini