Are You There Rich? It's Me, Mortality.

I try not to think about death too much.

I particularly try not to think about my own death. The idea of my own death frightens me. I'm not really afraid of the process of death itself, or any pain that might be associated with my death. I'm just afraid of what will happen after I die, or more accurately, what won't happen.

There was a time when I could comfort myself with the thought of an afterlife, but I think that time has passed. I still consider myself to be religious, and I very much want there to be a God and an afterlife, but I'm also a pessimist. I hope there's a God, and I hope's there a place for me in Heaven some day, but I'd be less than honest if I told you I was counting on it. I've discussed my faith in this space before, so if you've been reading this blog you kinda already know that my faith has been on shaky ground for a while now. I think one of the main reasons I've held on to my faith as long as I have ( and still have lots of HOPE that there is an afterlife ), is that I just can't imagine not existing. The idea of not existing really frightens me, so I spend most of my life just pretending that I'll always be around. However, every once in a while something happens that reminds me that I'm not immortal.

This time I was reminded by my glasses, or rather my need to get stronger glasses. I'm getting more far-sighted each year. I'm writing this blog post without my glasses on, but I don't think I'll be able to use a computer without glasses for much longer. I pretty much do all my newspaper and magazine reading with glasses on these days ( I got new reading glasses a week ago, and they make a HUGE difference ), and I'm probably going to start using glasses to write code at work ( I use a relatively large font at work, but I'm beginning to notice some eye strain. ).

So, my new glasses are great and all ( It's really nice to be able to see stuff without straining my eyes ), but they are also a reminder that there are some parts of the aging process I really can't control.

I think I've been fooling myself regarding the aging process for a while now. I've been blessed with a naturally youthful appearance, and I've been luck enough to avoid most of the typical aches and pains of middle age. I've got all my hair, barely any wrinkles, and I work out enough that I'm in far better shape than most 18-year-olds ( Yes, I have balky knees, but my knees have been giving me trouble since I've been 16. Thus, while my occasional knee problems are annoying, they don't really make me feel old ). However, there's really nothing I can do about they fact that my eyeballs are elongating. There's nothing I can do about the fact that whatever tissues were holding my eyes in their original shape are now slowly breaking down. Whether I like it or not, and whether I choose to accept it or not, my body is aging. I've definitely aging, and aging only leads to one thing. The Reaper may be pretty far down the road, but he's definitely coming for me.

OK, I'm not even going to try and gracefully segue from the topic above to a new topic. I'm just going to stop. If I keep writing about *that* topic, I'm going to drive myself nuts. I'll just finish by saying that I love life, and I love my life.

Carpe diem, folks. Carpe diem.

Rich

The Sequence

I gave my 6-old son Michael a sequence problem today. I asked him to give me the next number in the sequence ...

1, 4, 9, 16, 25, ...

He didn't have any problem coming up with the solution to that one. Before I could ask him a more challenging question, he decided to give me a sequence problem of his own. Michael asked me to give him the next number in the sequence below:

8, 7, 9, 5, 13, -3, 29, ...

I didn't find the question above too hard, but I challenge anyone else to find a 6-year old who can solve the puzzle above, much less design a puzzle like the one above.

Rich

Hoop it up

A few happy basketball thoughts while I try to get over the fact that LeBron isn't coming to the New York Knicks ...

About a month ago, we decided to get the boys a basketball hoop. Michael had already taken two basketball classes at the local YMCA, and we figured he'd enjoy a hoop of his own ( Of course, Peter's going to enjoy it too, but he'll probably needs about another year of maturity before he'll be ready to learn how to dribble and shoot. At this point, he gets a little frustrated when he tries to play, and doesn't really take instruction well. ).

Of course, getting the hoop, and getting the hoop ready were two different things. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the most mechanical person in the world ( Well, I do understand all the mechanical principals ( After all, I do have a Master's Degree in Mechanical Engineering ), but I'm really all thumbs when it comes to working with tools. ), so putting this thing together took the bulk of a Saturday ( It also didn't help that the parts in the box didn't match the list of parts in the instructions. I eventually figured out that a 5/16 inch nylock nut was missing from the set of nuts in the box ( There was some completely random nut of a different size in its place. ) After doing some research into what a nylock nut actually was and figuring out where I could get one, I went out and bought the nylock nut the same day.). However, getting that hoop together was definitely worth the effort. Michael was SOOOOO excited when he saw the hoop. He immediately wanted to head outside to play. He stayed outside until he hit 100 shots ( He kept a running count as he hit each shot. ).



Here's Michael with the hoop on the day I put it together ( Note: I set it up at the minimum height of 7.5 feet. It's important to keep the height of the hoop low when kids are first learning. Not only does it help their confidence, but it gets them into the habit of shooting with proper form rather than heaving the ball a basket that's way too high for them to reach easily. Speaking of proper form, take a look at the photo below. ).


I know it's a little bit blurry, but just take a look at that perfect form. Gee, it looks like the guy who taught that kid how to shoot really knew what he was doing.

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( Pausing to pat myself on the back repeatedly. )

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You can't imagine how gratifying it is to watch your kid enjoy a hoop, a bike, or any other kind of "some assembly required" toy, knowing that your own sweat and effort went into putting the toy together.

It all felt even more gratifying at 6 AM the next morning. Michael crawled into bed next to me and asked when we could go outside to shoot baskets. He's been shooting hoops at every opportunity ever since.

About a week ago, I thought it would be good for his basketball development to play a game with me. Of course, we wouldn't play a real competitive game, but I though it might be good practice for him took take shots and play defense with a least a tiny bit of pressure. So, I had to set up the rules of the game in such a way that we could "compete" to the extent that it wouldn't be completely obvious to him that I was throwing the game ( BTW, whenever either of my sons gets good enough to legitimately beat me at something, it will be one of the proudest days of my life. ). So, I set up the games with the following rules:

1) I couldn't steal the ball from him.

2) I couldn't raise my hands above my shoulders to block any of his shots.

3) I had to make all my baskets on the bounce. Any "shot" of mine wouldn't count unless it hit

the ground first - thus Micheal had ample opportunity to block all my shots.

4) All my shots would be worth 2 points, but Michael could get 3 points for a shot if he was shooting from more than about 5 feet away.

Making baskets on one bounce was actually a little harder than I thought it would be ( It's been more than 20 years since I used to win games of HORSE shooting shots like that. ), so we actually played to a legitimate 0-0 tie for a while. However, I eventually got the hang of hitting bounce shots again, and I found that he really couldn't get his shots off quick enough to keep me from blocking them or severely altering them, even if I didn't raise my hands above my shoulders. So, at that point, I had to engage in the subtle art of throwing a game to your kid without letting your kid know you are throwing the game.

It's not quite as easy as you might think. I imagine the techniques I used were similar to the techniques used by crooked college basketball players involved in the point shaving scandals of the 1950's. You need to miss shots by just a *little* bit, and be just a half-step slow on defense. You need to do just enough to lose the game.

I tried to make the game as close and dramatic as I could. We were playing to 15, and I got the game to the point where I had a 14-12 lead and the ball. I dribbled the ball a few times and then directed a bounce shot directly into Michael chest as he stood just outside the 3 point line. As he turned to take his shoot, I moved towards him and swiped my hand towards his shooting hand a split second after he let his shot go. I then looked up a prayed the shot would go in ...

SWISH! ( Well actually, more like THUNK, BOUNCE, THUNK, BOUNCE, SWISH, but the important thing is that the shot did go in. ).

Michael 15, Daddy 14. Game over, smiles all around. I gave him a high-five and a hug and we headed inside to have some ice cream.

It's nice to be a Dad! :)

Rich