T.T.T.

On By scottpetersenIn T.T.T., Tickle Tolerance TestLeave a comment

When our daughter Lauren was little, my great friend David devised a challenging “test” for Lauren and his son Dave. It was called the “Tickle Tolerance Test.”

The object was for the little one to lay on the ground face up. While far above, a father’s wiggling finger would begin its descent. Right towards Lauren or Dave’s tummy. Now the finger never touched Lauren or Dave. It would just descend. Slowly. Wigglingly. The wiggling finger rarely got within a foot or two before the giggling and squeals of laughter began. If anyone could stifle their laughter until the wiggling finger got within an inch or two of the tummy, the little one would get a treat. But no one survived – or passed – the Tickle Tolerance Test.

I have begun the Tickle Tolerance Test with Eve.  And – as expected – the laughter begins when my wiggling finger is far over my head.  Beginning its descent.  Heck – I’m not sure I could pass the Tickle Tolerance Test. . . . .

Hakuna Matata

On By scottpetersenIn Hakuna MatataLeave a comment

It’s in the Bible – “Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you.  He will never let the righteous fall.” (Psalm 55:22).  And Proverbs 12:25 “An anxious heart weighs a man down but a kind word cheers him up.”  And then there’s John 14:27 – “Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”  This is good counsel for all.  The message?  Don’t worry.   

Numerous sages have offered comment on the subject as well – “Do not anticipate trouble or worry about what may never happen.  Keep in the sunlight” (Benjamin Franklin).  “Drag your thoughts away from your troubles.  By the ears.  By the heels.  Or any other way you can manage it” (Mark Twain).  “Sorrow looks back.  Worry looks around.  Faith looks up” (Ralph Waldo Emerson).   “You’re only here for a short visit.  Don’t hurry.  Don’t worry.  And be sure to smell the flowers along the way” (Walter Hagen).       

 While there is wisdom in the aforesaid quotations, there may be a better way to say it.  “Hakuna Matata” (Swahili for “there’s no problem“).  “Hakuna Matata” is a song title in Disney’s The Lion King.  My granddaughter associates me with Pumbaa (to be “silly” in Swahili) – the odoriferous warthog who “sings” the song.  But listen to his message.  Watch for 3 minutes and 49 seconds.  You’ll smile.  Promise.   Oh watch it.     

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xB5ceAruYrI

Run Over

On By scottpetersenIn The man who picks up penniesLeave a comment

My parents taught me early to keep my eyes open.  And to watch for coins on the street or sidewalk.  In my post of August 2, 2012, I spoke of picking up pennies, nickels, dimes, dollar bills — whatever (cell phones, wallets, fine jewelry – some mighty fine).   I still do. My eyes are glued to the ground.  And yes – I still pick up pennies.  All monetary finds go into a bowl for a year-end charitable donation.  It’s become a game.  Kind’ve a personal challenge.  To see what I can find.         

Every day I catch the train and go downtown to my office. Every day I walk across the train tracks. And as I do, I slow. Looking. I have never put a coin on the railroad tracks (to do so would probably invite a SWAT team invasion). But I do look for those errant “run over” coins that have been placed on the tracks — and lost — by others. Over the years, I have acquired a nice collection.  Nineteen flattened coins to be precise.  A few quarters.  Dimes.  Nickels.  Pennies.  Each one I’m sure has a story.  Just as each lost coin has a story.  The good thing is that if I ever run low on cash, I can always take these run over coins to the bank and trade them in for unscathed versions.  One dollar and thirty-six cents by my count.     

The Story of my Day

On By scottpetersenIn The story of my day1 Comment

My granddaughter Eve is 2 years 11 months old. As I’ve mentioned before, she is an avid “reader.” And listener. She loves books and stories. Last weekend, Donna and I were babysitting.  Eve and I played kitchen (I pretended to eat – and be enthusiastic about – wooden food – oh that’s delicious – yum yum).  And then we spent time building blocks (confusing for me as Eve has a unique perspective on how blocks should be arranged).  Anyway, shortly before noon, Eve asked if I would read her some stories. Are you kidding? I’d love to!

So Eve grabbed a couple of favorites and we read. Then I thought I’ll tell a story. So I began telling the story of a little girl named “Eve.” And I simply retraced her entire day (awoke cheerfully at 5:00 a.m. saying “it’s morning!”; was led back to bed to “sleep a little more“; up again at 6:45 a.m.; bathroom; downstairs for breakfast; then off to school; and on and on).  When I couldn’t “remember” the names of her friends at school – hmmm. . . what were their names – she chimed in with the details.  Well Eve was mesmerized.  She listened intently.  Hands clasped behind her head.  Enjoying immensely hearing “Popi” tell the story of her day (though nowhere near the enjoyment that I had from telling it).  As Eve’s “day” wound to a close, I was paid a great compliment.  She asked me to tell the story “again.” 

 

All Noise

On By scottpetersenIn Illinois gets an FLeave a comment

Kevin Peraino’s recent book Lincoln in the World has a wonderful quote on page 44: 

“The curmudgeonly former president [John Quincy Adams, then serving in the House of Representatives] had little patience for the rowdy new brand of expansionism embodied in ‘Mr. Polk’s War.’  In the House chamber one day, legislators cheerfully debated among themselves about the correct pronunciation of the word ‘Illinois.’  Overhearing the conversation, Adams snapped that judging ‘from the character of the representatives in this congress from that state, I should decide unhesitatingly that the proper pronunciation was ‘All Noise.'” 

Things have not changed much since JQ’s time.  Today, Illinois is dead last of all states in recovering from the Great Recession.  Illinois has the worst unfunded pension debt ($110 billion) of any state.  The worst S&P bond rating of any state ($187 billion shortfall).  The highest borrowing cost of any state.  The most unpaid bills.  The only state – with California – that gets an “F” for being business friendly.  It has among the highest state taxes (which are going up).  Jobs are leaving Illinois at the rate of a thousand a day.  Businesses are leaving in droves.  As are citizens.  Food stamp growth has outpaced new jobs 2 to 1 in the last four years.  Chicago’s population today is less than it was in 1920.  Regulations are suffocating and inconsistent.  The State has been run by a buffoon and some hoodlums.  On Election Day, a new Governor was elected.  A glimmer of hope for Illinois?  Not if Mike Madigan can help it. . . .

  

Thanksgiving

On By scottpetersenIn Happy Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving is an attitudeLeave a comment

In my post of November 11, 2011, I mentioned an occasion when I was asked what my “favorite day” is. And I replied “Thanksgiving.”   It’s a long weekend.  Family time.  Detroit Lions on t.v. (yawn).  Christmas is on the way.  Well, it’s another November. Three years later.  Wow!  The days go slow and the years go fast.  Faster it seems every year. 

My best wishes to you for a wonderful, happy and blessed Thanksgiving weekend.  The Bears are playing the Detroit Lions so I may have to stay awake . . . zzzzzzzz. . . .

What keeps you awake at Night?

On By scottpetersenIn Trouble sleeping?, What keeps you awake at night?Leave a comment

In my posts of March 19, 2012, and March 23, 2014, I talked about the RH’s remedies for falling (back) to sleep. The one point that I overlooked – and did not discuss – is the issue of “thinking.” What do you think about that keeps you awake at night?

I like most readers will wake up at night and think.  And worry.  I think about work.  What I have to do.  I think about and worry about family.  I think of aches.  Pains.  Problems.  Of family.  Friends.  Me.  I keep a pad of paper by the bed so that if I wake up thinking O’m’gosh – I forgot to . . . . . . .  I can lean over and write it down.  Of course in the morning, I look at what I wrote at 3:00 a.m. and it reads something like “xpoWm snork xipsdf glub greschhleb.”   What the %&*@x! was I trying to remember?

There’s something else that keeps me awake at night.  Maybe it’s just me.  It’s whether I am living up to my potential as a person.  Accomplishing the most I can with my time.  And talent(s).  Doing things that matter.  Being the best father.  Grandfather.  Husband.  Friend.  Attorney.  It’s not a “bucket list” (I really do not like that term as for many it applies to travel and “experience” rather than achievement).  

In the 7th game of the 2006 National League Championship Series,  no one will forget – that Carlos Beltran of the Mets stood there and took a called third strike with the bases loaded and two out.  And the Cards won the Pennant.  When things are drawing to a close, I don’t want to be accused of standing there.  Taking a called third strike.  Having regret about not trying to hit a home run or even a bunt single. Maybe it’s just me.       

Patrol Boys

On By scottpetersenIn Patrol Boys, Protecting versus insulating childrenLeave a comment

When I was in 6th and 7th grade, I was a “patrol boy.”  I was given a white Sam Brown belt (a 3″ white belt with an angled strap from one hip to the opposite shoulder). And I was given power. I was the capo di tutti capi (or one of them) for Lincoln School in Mt. Prospect.  Donna was a patrol girl back in Rye, NY. 

I stood at the street corner. When kids wanted to cross the street,  I would thrust my arms out to the sides (“don’t go“).  When traffic slowed, I would step into the street and shove my arm into the air – stop! And cars would slow and stop.  It’s a patrol boy.  Kids would cross. I would step back and motion the drivers with an “as you were” wave.  6th grade.

Today, you see crossing guards who are older than dirt.   Some look old enough to be my grandfather (or grandmother).  Now that’s old.  Not as nimble as a patrol boy.  They wear iridescent vests, reflective hats, and they carry a monster “STOP” sign.  A few look like they’re geared up for a SWAT team.  I remember seeing one old guy wearing a helmet. 

I always wondered why the patrol boy era came to an end. Probably lawyers. And parents who worry about giving their child authority. Autonomy. Power.  Risk.  I frankly think it would be great if we could resume the patrol boy (and girl) era. Think about the sense of responsibility. Confidence. Growing up.  Yes – I know it’s a different time.  But it’s still the old protecting versus insulating children (see my offering of  11/21/13).   We want to give children wings.  And roots.   

Forbidden Cities

On By scottpetersenIn Islam, Mecca, MedinaLeave a comment

All people – of all faiths – are welcomed into the Vatican — the Holy See of Catholicism. All may tour Jerusalem – the Divine City of Judaism.  All may visit Nazareth, the birthplace of Jesus.  Lumbini, Nepal, the birthplace of Siddhartha Gautama is open to visitors.  The red carpet is out in Tokyo (and Edo’s Shinto shrines), the Seven Holy Towns (of Hinduism), Salt Lake City (home to the Mormon faith) and a host of other countries, cities and locales which are relevant to a particular religion or faith.

But heaven help you (no pun intended) if you try to enter the cities of Medina or Mecca in Saudi Arabia. You are carded at the door. And if you are not a Muslim, you are not welcome. If you try to get in, you will be booted out. Physically.  Why?  Because the Koran dictates:  “O ye who believe!  The idolaters are unclean.  So let them not come near the Inviolable Place of Worship. . . . ” (Surra 9:28).   And so based on this centuries-old Scripture, Muslims deny entrance to “Scott” “Donna” “Abigail” or “Rex.”  Expressways have checkpoints – much like toll booths – where your credentials are examined.  If you are “unclean,” you’re shown the bypass that takes you well out of your way — and far away from Medina or Mecca. 

Christianity and Judaism take a major beating these days from our government and our (allegedly) mainstream media.  A crèche or menorah?  Puh-lease!  Are you a radical?  But just try and object to highly controversial Islamic practices, suffocating prejudice against women or demands for Sharia law in increasing locales in America – and the pinheads will condemn your speech as “discriminatory.”  Or worse.  And I’m the one who is unclean. . . . .