How Mr. Rocca led to my participation in a Book challenge

Book and I decided to try to read 24 books this year. It's been a fun project. I just finished number 15 tonight. Pursuing this goal got me thinking about a time when I didn't read much.

Way back in the summer of my eighth-grade year, the first teacher to really believe in me (Mr. Rocca) suggested that I go into the honors program for 9th grade. The only catch was that I would have to read 3 books over the summer and write reports on each of them.

Like a lazy bum, I spent most of my summer dreading the assignment and reading nothing. I tried to finish one book with less than a month before classes for high school would begin. I actually took the easy road and simply called the school and changed my schedule to be in regular English class instead of AP.

Problem solved.

I reveled in those last few weeks of summer... and spent the rest of my high school career regretting the decision and trying to make up for it. In fact, for awhile, I even developed a bit of a complex toward AP.

All because I was too lazy to do what many people do for FUN over the course of an entire summer. The "regular class" allowed me to read some very good books and I really ate those books up. I was determined to make the very most out of the class. After all, education is what you make of it.

Even after college, I still didn't read much for pleasure. I did it occasionally, but not often. Of course, I read all my assignments in college, so to do more was just too repetitive.

During the three years between my graduation from CU and my entrance into law school, I only read a few books, but they were extremely meaningful to me. "A Brave New World," by Aldous Huxley struck me particularly. It's concept of "Soma" inspired me to learn German.

I describe the book as similar to George Orwell's book 1984 if that book were about social interactions as opposed to politics.

Soma was a pill that put people into a catatonic, but satisfied state. The description reminded me of exactly how I must look when I watch TV. Jen had recommended the book, so I told her of a plan to see if I could learn a new language with the time I would otherwise have spent watching television. That became a bit of an obsession, but that's another story. Law school was on the horizon and I needed an excuse to escape distraction, so giving up cable was the obvious choice.

Needless to say, I did very little pleasure reading in law school. My eyeballs would have probably shut down. I like to read, but my eyes aren't made of steel and I was anal about reading my assignments.

For about a year after I experienced the bar exam, I avoided all unnecessary reading. (Seriously, that exam is life-alteratingly crappy... it's effects linger and I will never take it again, so let's say I won't be leaving the state anytime soon).

Once the post-bar shock wore off, my path was finally clear. I now can't read enough. This book challenge has been just that, but it has been fun and definitely worth it (even if I've had to suffer through a few badly-chosen books).

My final thought, though, goes back to Mr. Rocca. I "woke up" school-wise in 8th grade. Partly, that was his doing. When my submission for a writing contest was a tongue-in-cheek critique of the awful school lunch food just to be funny and goof around, he went out of his way to find me.

He found me after school in a common area and said how he had specifically looked for my paper thinking it would be a contender for the prize. He said he wished I had taken it seriously and expressed actual disappointment that I did not.

Mr. Rocca had an Afro hairstyle and was often the butt of jokes as a result. His positive approach and Mr. Rogers sweaters were also fodder for middle-school students. But, Mr. Rocca walked the walk. He also required payment of $0.10 per use of the word "ain't."

When I showed up to school wearing a Bart Simpson T-shirt that said "Underachiever and Proud of it," he pulled me aside. Again, he did not take me to task harshly. He said that he would not require me to turn it inside out as some schools had at the time, but that he was disappointed that I would choose to identify myself that way. My protests were heard, but he simply stated that I had a choice about which direction to take and that choices set a direction.

In all honesty, I was actually just a really big fan of the Simpsons and I still do not believe I had internalized it, but his message struck me. And, I could really see the very genuine concern in his eyes. Both his Simpsons critique and his disappointment regarding my writing assignment remain as vivid as if I were watching him live on television right now.

I am not even sure of his first name anymore (it's been almost 20 years), but I want to thank Mr. Rocca for believing in me, for being honest and for leveling with me.

He is one of many who have helped me put on my boots. Sometimes all it takes is acceptance of an outstretched hand. I wish I could find him today so I can thank him. Time to run a google search.

I was lucky to have had his influence just as I learned how to listen.

You are invited

We will be hosting a Barack Obama Unite for Change House Party on Saturday, July 12, 2008 at 6:30 p.m. at our house. If you need directions, just get a hold of either of us. We will be providing food for all who show up, so come hungry.

The purpose of the gathering is to organize local support. An Obama campaign organizer will be here and he will provide any information you may desire to get involved, volunteer, spread the word or just get fired up.

It's all about grass roots efforts, and we are glad to get involved. We hope to have 20 people show up. If you plan to show up, please RSVP to us or on the comments section of this post to let us know.

This is an important election, and it's time to get involved. Please join our family for this fun and important gathering. We hope to see many people there!

Yours,


Joe, Jen and Jacob

Weekend with Jacob

My dad died four years ago tonight. Right near Father's Day. For the past three Father's Days, I've had a little distraction to keep me thinking positive during that holiday.

I will always be a little sad on Father's Day, and I'll never forget going through that first Father's Day after dad died in shock just a day or two before the funeral. But, ever since 2006, I have enjoyed the holiday as the daddy and it's nice.

This year Jen and I took Jacob to the zoo. He loved watching the monkeys. We had a nice relaxing day (as much as possible for a trip to the zoo on a holiday weekend). We got to see a Tiger come right up to the window. Jacob was fascinated, and a little scared. That was Saturday. On Sunday, I just relaxed and played with the little guy.

Tonight, I took some pictures of us after a particularly rough game of "ball." "Ball" really has no rules. We just play with the ball. The one's with him in red are from tonight.

Jacob makes Father's Day special.

"He's calling us home"

I have been walking on air all day today.

I can't explain how happy it makes me to know now that Barack Obama will run his next election to become our nation's president. I don't even refer to him as the Democratic nominee because he is more than a Democrat. He is the best candidate I have known in my lifetime and the most inspirational political figure I have experienced. Obama transcends party affiliation. He is simply an American running for president.

Do yourself a favor and watch the speech here in its entirety. If you do not feel compelled to strive for a higher standard after watching this speech, you need to check your pulse.

Someone told me not long ago that Barack Obama is calling us home. I wasn't sure what that meant at first, but I have figured it out. He is calling us to our better selves. He is calling us back to our roots and to our highest principals.

No more torture, no more preemptive wars, no more lies. There was a time when we considered ourselves better than all that. There was a time when we stood in the face of fear and maintained all that made us good. There was a time when we never compromised our principals.

Barack Obama reminds us that we have not gone anywhere and that we can once again recall that spirit and be that beacon on the hill. I talked to a new acquaintance I met on Facebook.com. He lives in Canada and, from our conversation, indicated that the rest of the world has been waiting for us to come home as well.

I was proud to tell him to just be patient because we are on our way back!

I am also so very proud to know that little people like me have made this campaign a success. Me, some of my friends and family, and countless others out there have teamed up to neutralize the very rich in this nation. We, the little people, more than 1.5 million strong, have contributed to his campaign.

For once, the masses have forced the establishment to listen. I could not be more satisfied. In a way, I feel like I own a small piece of this movement along with millions of others from all walks of life. Overwhelmingly, Obama donors give less than $200.00. I own 1/1.5m th of the campaign (give or take) and I cherish it.

After so many years talking about doom and fear, it's nice to be told what is possible. It's nice to be held to a higher standard.

Life just feels good today.

Memorial Day

I have a bunch of pictures on my hard drive. When the computer goes to screen-saver mode, I enjoy watching family photos from way back flash across my screen. On this Memorial Day, those pictures were particularly helpful as a reminder of all the family members who I miss so much.

Dean E. Findley (pictured right)

My grandfather served in the Pacific on the USS Brown in World War II. My most vivid memories of my grandfather was an interview I conducted with him in his basement for a class project.

My assignment for history class was to interview a WWII veteran if any were living in my family. I did not know it at the time, but I was lucky to get the interview when I did. He died in 1993, and I did the interview with him either that same year or 1992. I had never asked him about his service until that assignment, and I will always be grateful to my then-teacher for assigning the task.

He talked about his most vivid memories, including when he was "down below" at the same time a torpedo hit the ship. Obviously, the torpedo was a dud or I might not be here. He told about the looks on the faces of his shipmates when he came back "top side." I remember him saying that they looked at him like he was a ghost.

He talked as openly for my project as he ever had about anything, and I will always treasure the memory. Without that assignment, I might never have created such a memory. I can still see him sitting in the very dim basement and answering my questions one at a time. I did not feel like he particularly enjoyed talking about his experience, but he answered all my questions and remained patient.

The diary he kept during the war has now been transcribed and published. It sits on my bookshelf at work.

I also remember that he taught me how to drive. When I misjudged the turn-radius on the Suburban near the old dog track and went into a shallow ditch, he calmly said, "OK, now put it in reverse."

Eddie and Mollie Renz

My great-grandparents, pictured above with me in 1978, were a few of the many native Germans who lived in Russia and later migrated to this part of Colorado. Eddie loved to paint, and his paintings decorate every wall on my dad's side of the family. Three of his paintings hang in my office at work, and I type this post under one of his larger paintings.

Eddie was a train engineer and painted in his spare time. He sold many paintings and tried to teach me, my brother and many of our cousins how. He also played a mean accordion and loved a good polka.

I interviewed Mollie for an article I published in the high school newspaper about Loveland's history before the Civil Rights movement. She was my first-hand source about the existence of signs threatening blacks not to "let the sun set on you in Loveland." She was a remarkable person who survived the Great Depression. She told me she "never spent a dime." And, she really didn't. Anytime she found a dime, it went into a jar. At the end of the year, that jar went to the bank.

When I first learned how to drive, I went to pick her up for a visit to show off my skills. I inadvertently turned without the necessary green arrow and nearly got us both killed. She scolded me and I felt horrible. But, satisfied that it was a mistake of nerves, she promised not to tell anyone. She then let me drive her home at the end of the visit and told me not to worry because she trusted I would get her home safe.

She knitted all the time and donated her handiwork to the needy and to her eventual Great-great-grandchildren. When Jen and I brought Jacob home from the hospital, he wore a little hat and blanket she made for my eventual child before I had even met Jen.

Jen took a strong liking to my great-grandmother. We were both very honored to have her at the wedding and we both miss her today. Jen never got to meet Eddie, but I know she would have loved his unique sense of humor.

John McCarthy (pictured below giving my mother away to marriage)

Grandpa "Man," as he was known, was a veteran of the CIA and the Air Force. I interviewed him for an article I did for a special Veterans Day issue of the Longmont Daily Times-Call. He was in the room as a Captain for one of the very first attempts to negotiate with Ho Chi Mihn before US involvement in Vietnam escalated.

My mother told innumerable stories about his Christmas cheer, his playful nature, and his stern mannerisms regarding dating. I did not often visit him because of distance, but every phone call ended with advice that I "stand closer to my razor." Phone calls were always enjoyable because he stressed the importance of cheerfulness in life.

He showed me a telegram he received from President Kennedy for his performance at Patterson Air Base during the Cuban Missile Crisis. He also showed me a "pen gun" that was used in the 50s.

When we were kids, he made sure we knew he was the "King of the Leprechauns," and kept us on the lookout for them in his yard.

Dad

To most others he was Dr. Findley, but he was always just Dad to me. I've already written about all the accomplishments, so I'll just focus today on the little memories I cherish. He's the one who most insisted that I take the time to visit family members and to maintain those relationships.

I remember endless baseball, lacrosse, football, soccer and basketball games together.

I remember going to get a twist cone after every little league game I played, his shouts from the sidelines when I played soccer, and more games of catch in the backyard than I can count.

When I was very young, we played as if some of my action figures would be swimming around his rocking chair as he watched Wall Street Week. He took me to get autographs of players from different teams at training camps in San Diego, Virginia and Denver.

He watched the Muppet Show with me and, I think, enjoyed it every bit as much as I did. He played video games with me, watched movies with me and even quizzed me on which composer created which masterpiece of classical music.

He left us entirely too early.

This list is not exhaustive, but I had a special relationship with everyone described here. I spent much of today thinking about how each one of them contributed to the world and, more specifically, to my life.

I miss them all terribly, but I rejoice in their memories. I also look forward to teaching Jacob about each of them and the lessons they taught me.

The People are Speaking!!

Are you listening?



No amount of organizing could ever coax 75,000 people to a political rally. Something special is happening in this country.



Yes he can!

Media Matters

I have a nasty habit of obsessively watching political news and commentary. Beyond the obvious side-effects of being a boring party-goer or the source of eye-rolling, I'm convinced 24-hour news cycle makes us all a little more petty and unreasonably outraged.

My first post on this blog was about how upset I was about the never-ending focus of mass media on celebrity news. Such sensationalism has lately leaked its way into the political news arena, especially in a presidential election year. But, with the 24-hour news cycle, nothing escapes exaggeration. I know even colonial-era papers were vicious, but this is ridiculous.

Just one example is the enormous amount of time pundits spent on which one of three U.S. Senators / Millionaires running for President was "elitist." One comment about bitterness turned into a 2-week marathon of opinion and general droning-on. They even drone on about how long the networks have... well, droned on. "This story has now lasted three news-cycles!!" they report.

Sometimes I long for the days when people waited for the newspaper delivery to get their news.

Pundits and talking-heads obviously contribute when they bring knowledgeable and well-reasoned information to the subject. I love that kind of analysis. But, when networks have 24-hours of programming to fill, not everyone given a forum for opinion should necessarily be heard. There are entirely too many "experts" eating up too many "segments" to allow for focused analysis.

When that trend is married to the insect-level attention spans encouraged by those very networks, context of any potential controversy splats into the speeding windshield of mass media.

The sound-bite nature of news forces candidates or other news-makers to resort to sound-bite defenses to sound-bite attacks -- effectively stripping our political discourse of substance and making headlines over trifles. That may work for viewers who pay attention until the next commercial break, but for those of us political junkies who live and die with elections, it's madness.

An example: Barack Obama responded to the "bitter" backlash immediately, explained the context, expressed regret that it wasn't more clearly delivered and moved on. The story, however, did not. After being pummelled for being an "elitist," Obama finally stemmed the tide by resorting to a sound-bite retort. By responding that Hillary Clinton was "talking like she is Annie Oakley," he received the kind of smirky-newscaster-introductions to reports of his words necessary to counter the smirky-newscaster-introductions to reports of Clinton's attacks.

"Today, Barack Obama slammed Hillary Clinton by accusing her of 'talking like she is Annie Oakley and packing a six-shooter..." (Insert smirk).

It's junk because it's just a game of "gotcha." It's also petty and irrelevant to the presidential debate. Heck, it's downright demeaning to the presidential debate. An honest explanation should have been enough, but only a zinger changed the topic.

I was a member of the media once upon a time. One of my degrees was in journalism. I understand how difficult that job can be and how frustrating it can be to write with authority on a new subject. The problem, however, is less a product of poor journalism than of over-saturation. I also understand the problem of filling a minimum space.

After a certain point, any media pays a price of quality to achieve quantity.

My point is simply to encourage anyone -- voters, interested observers or anyone else -- to cut through the trash and look at the topic in question with your own common sense. Ask yourself whether something of substance lies buried under the zingers, one-liners and snippets.

Like, for example, whether a charge of "elitism" or any other trumped-up accusation even matters. After all, it takes an "elite-minded" person to believe he or she is the most qualified out of 300 million Americans to lead this nation.