Hunting for traditions

April 12, 2009


As Sierra has grown, I’ve grown as well.

You’ll have to pardon me for going all Rick Reilly on you. There’s no surprise in the statement I’ve just made. It’s certainly not an original thought.

But when it comes to the traditions that accompany the holidays, it’s true. And it’s even more. I’m not simply growing – I’m rediscovering, finding the joy in holidays and rites of passage that I had long since passed off as child’s play, too old to even consider the enjoyment.

Halloween was this way. Same with Christmas gift opening. And now, Easter egg hunts.

Three times this week, Sierra took part in some version of an Easter egg hunt. Each version, though conducted by different people and stocked with different types of prizes, had one thing in common – eggs left in the open, cordoned off by some invisible pact that they were available only for the smallest children. These eggs, though bright colors and easily discernable from the grass underneath, still went overlooked at times, each kid running right by it as they focused on an egg in the distance. It was all very cute. Naturally.

More than that, it was a lot of fun. For both of us. When had I forgotten about Easter egg hunts?

I once grasped the holidays like there would be no others, and Easter was one of my favorites. I jumped headfirst into the traditions – dyeing eggs, hunting, waiting anxiously until the next morning, the idea of a treat-filled basket second only to the bounty that waited on Christmas.

I had left those traditions behind as I grew older, dissuaded by parents who rightfully assumed I was getting too old and then distanced further as I assumed my own march into adulthood. Other friends – the people that are probably more fun to hang out with than myself – may have continued to hold tight to the youthful charm of these traditions, but I had moved on. I had grown out of it.

But today, I saw those traditions being discovered; the excitement of discovering another egg around the corner, the seemingly constant barrage of candy and snacks, the exhausted fall into drowsiness that accompanies a day of family and friends and food.

I felt as if I was finding something I had lost. With each egg Sierra found, and with each excited squeal, I remembered how much fun life can be.

How the things we do as kids prepare us for the lives we’ll lead as parents. How, despite the time away, growing up is like riding a bike: you never forget how to crack open a plastic egg, and you never forget how to shove so much candy in your mouth you almost choke.

How we never really lose the love of a tradition, even if we no longer take advantage of it.

Tags: Friends, Sierra, Vilhauer |

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On the market

February 16, 2009


On the market

Today, our house went on the market.

I wish it was that simple, though. Because it’s so much more than that.

This is the vessel that our entire married life has been contained within. The only home Sierra has ever known. The house where our lives changed – where sheer longings turned into surprising realities, where we’ve seen friends come and go and pass away.

Which means, in some confusing and over-dramatized way, we’re selling our life. Or, at least, part of it.

We’ve put our house on the market. In doing so, we’ve put our sense of style on the market. Our security. Our cocoon, our safety zone, our base, free from tag, no touch backs and all of that.

We’ve put our view of the perfect life out for everyone to see, to judge and to offer on. It’s like sending a manuscript to a handful of publishers – we’re opening ourselves up for critique, and the person who wants our home the most will make an offer.

I’m happy that we’re doing it. I’m thrilled, actually. It’s exciting, without a doubt. The chance at altering our surroundings is something I look forward to. I’m thrilled with the idea of the hunt, of discovering the perfect new habitat, where both of our kids will roam free, creating the same kind of memories that I created in the homes I grew up in.

But it’s weird to think that Sierra won’t have many memories of this house. And to Baby Boy, this house will simply be an illusion in his parent’s minds – a home in which he was conceived but never stepped foot. It’s the foundation that we clung to as we created a new life for ourselves, a life that made both Sierra and Baby Boy possible, yet it will be like cell theory to the two of them – impossible to imagine, too minute to understand.

I’ll miss this house. At times, I’ll be filled with nostalgia. I know Kerrie feels the same. But it will be short lived. We will turn wherever we land into our home. Just as we’ve done before at this house; just as the lucky owners that follow us will once we leave.

It’s a chapter in our lives that will have passed by – not with painful remembrance, but with fondness. A chapter we can always look back on, proud of what we accomplished.

A chapter in the past, with many left to discover.

Tags: Friends, Isaac, On..., Sierra, Sioux Falls, Vilhauer |

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Season Ticket Review: Two nights of entertaining

January 19, 2009


Skyforce

Game 12 & 13 – Fort Wayne (5-11) at Sioux Falls Skyforce (12-8). January 15 & 16, 2008.

The last Skyforce update came nearly a month and a half ago.

It’s not that we haven’t been going to games this season. It’s just that, you know, we’ve been pretty busy, what with the world continuing to spin despite the continuation of the NBA D-League. Imagine that – even in the wake of a new season, life moves on.

Actually, I should be fair. If we’ve been missing games, it’s our own fault. We can no longer blame Sierra – especially since the advent of her willingness to hang around for the entire contest. To begin the season, we were wary of her attention span, assuming she’d be out around half-time – her natural bedtime. But, thanks to a couple souvenir balls we’ve snatched out of the air, and owing a lot to her advanced patience with daddy’s favorite sport, we’ve gotten to stay longer and longer each game.

Unfortunately, this added attention has come as the team began its decline. We began the season with a 9-2 record, losing only the season opener vs. Iowa and a lopsided contest in Austin that sparked a 9-game Toros winning streak.

But then Christmas happened – a two-point loss to Dakota at home – and then 3-6 happened.

And that’s the story of the first half of the season. After 20 games, the Skyforce were a disappointing 12-8. Looking for a spark, they sent longtime guard Carl Elliot to the Fort Wayne Mad Ants for longer-time-guard David Bailey. Things seemed as though they’d be okay – after all, we had a weekend home series against the last place Mad Ants, and we just brought back one of the most popular players of recent memory – a player who, theoretically, new the opponent about as well as you possibly could.

At both games, we were joined by company. We were surprised to see our friends Eric and Tony at the Thursday game, and just the next day we invited more friends (Jim and Mel, Sara and Ryan) to join us.

It was a different feeling to have friends at the game. For so long, we have simply made the Skyforce our little thing – never making the connection between the pastime and the friends we’d visit after the games. The Skyforce are our vice, and by having friends at the game it felt as if we were entertaining – as if we were responsible for how the team played. After years of being a hardcore fan, we found ourselves passing that fanhood on.

What’s refreshing is that our friends look at the game from a different angle. To them, it’s still fresh and somewhat exciting. They question the conventions, and they ask about things we’ve long held as truth.

We talked about half-time shows. We answered questions about the league itself, and about the team, and about the NBA affiliate system and how NBA players are sent down and D-League players called up. We went through the subtle nuances of the league and discussed the mundane nature of the Arena’s pretzels. We were Skyforce experts, and, while we might not be proud of that fact, it was fun to inform instead of grumble silently.

It was like rediscovering the game we had become so numb to, looking at them from a fan’s perspective, and not from the chiseled glasses of a bitter, long suffering cynic.

“So, who’s the go to guy,” Eric asked on Thursday.

This question stopped me. I was stunned, actually, that I couldn’t think of an answer. I didn’t know, I said. The Skyforce have never really had a go to guy. It changes daily, the team turning toward whoever had the hot hand.

On both nights, it turned out to be Frank Williams, averaging 26 points over the two contests. Newcomer/old favorite David Bailey poured in a few of his own, sure, but it was Frank – seemingly absent from the games we had attended previously – who put the team on his back and charged forward.

He was really the only consistent bright spot. As is the team’s custom, we took a lead into the half both nights, and, as is our habit, we promptly lost it in the 3rd quarter both times. The refs could be to blame – both nights saw an attempted comeback thwarted by tic-tac fouls called by a greenhorn ref – a ref who called loose in the beginning and tight near the end (the exact opposite of what you’d expect). But really, it was Carl Elliot who took the wind out of our sails, leading the Mad Ants to two straight wins on the road, sending our record to 12-10, lovingly giving us a little payback for sending him to one of the worst teams in the league.

It was the Carl Elliot we had ourselves enjoyed. And while both nights were cold, and much quieter than usual, we were torched by a Mad Ants team that simply wanted to win a lot more than we did.

It wasn’t the best face to show a set of visitors. But we couldn’t take it personally. After all – we’re merely visitors as well: visitors that show up more often than most, often leave early, and occasionally consider ourselves proud fans – fans that always end up looking on the bright side, who always enjoy the game for what it is.

It’s simply basketball. And it’s for all of us to share.

Thursday: Skyforce 127, Fort Wayne 131.
Friday: Skyforce 115, Fort Wayne 124.

Tags: Basketball, Friends, Sioux Falls, Sioux Falls Skyforce, Sports |

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On searching for dignity

January 14, 2009


Television news is in search of ratings. More than anything.

It’s not about journalistic integrity, or a dedication to informing the community. It’s ratings, only, above all, without question. It’s programming, not journalism; entertainment, not scholarship.

I often forget this fact until it’s thrown in my lap.

Yesterday, a friend was arrested for intentional damage to property and aggravated assault. (Not a close friend, but a friend all the same.) I don’t know the details any more than anyone else. I do know that is a good guy.

I also know that he has had mental health problems in his past. Reportedly, they seemed to have begun developing again.

The offenses are indefensible. He walked through his neighborhood and struck at windows with a shovel. Eventually, he threatened a human being. No motive, no cause. Just a mixed up mind, I suspect.

But the coverage by a local station was even more indefensible.

“Neighbors say they’ve had a few interactions with the suspect, just to know he was a little off…”

“It’s really weird that the one [neighbor] I happened to meet ends up being the crazy one.”

“Definitely get to know your neighbors. Too bad you can’t get a background check on them beforehand.”

Snickers. The slo-mo perp walk. Obviously biased interviews. Just another story about another crazy guy, so let’s see what we’ve got for weather!

Whether it’s the Wheel of Justice or a habit of trivializing tragedy to point out fault, the heavy handed holier-than-thou approach that local television news programs take when reporting is contrary to the very core of good journalism.

Of treating every story with dignity. Every person with decency. Every news item with respect.

It’s all part of the news cycle on television, keeping us up to date on the ridiculousness of life, looking for the angle in every story whether or not it’s decent to do so, chuckling along as they shake their heads, saying, “Life might suck, but at least you’re not as screwed up as THAT guy.”

It’s all a big joke, until you realize it’s someone you know.

Today, the Argus Leader printed their version of the story. Just the fact. No assumption. No cute cracks about crazy people.

Because cute cracks about crazy people don’t belong in journalism.

Print may be dying, but I’ll take its dignity over television’s sensationalism any day.

“I believe that the journalism which succeeds the best-and best deserves success-fears God and honors man … seeks to give every man a chance, and as far as law, an honest wage and recognition of human brotherhood can make it so, an equal chance … is a journalism of humanity, of and for today’s world.”
-Walter Williams

Tags: Friends, Journalism, On..., Sioux Falls, Television |

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Merry Christmas, everyone

December 25, 2008


The gifts have been opened, their paper thrashed and bows left abandoned.

The basketball games have begun. The fudge has nearly disappeared. The food is starting to wind its way into our minds and Sierra is finally taking a nap.

We’re happy to have our family together, and we’re happy to have the house picked up.

Most of all, we’re happy it’s Christmas – we’re happy to have this excuse to simply be together. An excuse we don’t need, but gladly accept.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Don’t shoot your eye out.

Tags: Friends, Vilhauer |

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Falling off the hobby horse

August 14, 2008


Every few months, a bubble occurs at work. It tends to show up after a few days of downtime, when scratching together a few hours of billable time seems impossible. It comes on suddenly, with a flurry of meetings. My desk begins to pile up. My life turns up another gear. Everything is due tomorrow, and the end is nowhere in sight. It bleeds into my free time; free time that may already be stretched by prior engagements and home projects and an ever-growing pile of mind-numbing DVRed programs.

That’s the nature of the business. I grumble. But I also bask in the glow of vocation, knowing that someone depends on me for his or her words, plans and ideas. That I get paid to do something I enjoy, something I should stay quiet about lest they realize what they’re paying me to do.

But man, it sure wreaks havoc on my hobbies.

As words flow toward one end, the means to keep up with the hobby side of writing dries up; the paths diverted. What was once fun becomes work. A source of pride becomes an millstone, hanging from my neck. Taunting me with its demise.

Because with the important things claiming their share of my life’s time, my hobbies fall back a bit. I am afforded no more time to write on my own. And newer, shinier hobbies show up, too. I sometimes think my computer keyboard is jealous of our new camera. Of each new book. Of the Olympics and, in the past, the NBA Finals.

And from there, things deteriorate. Out of practice, or with my ideas used up elsewhere, it feels like something is stuck, like writer’s block has set in, or that my thoughts have been stuck in my head too long, are no longer timely or spontaneous or fresh. This leads to abandonment, of ditching a great outlet because of the convincing nature of busyness.

In this way, work can get in the way of our hobbies. And sometimes, that’s bound to happen. But without that outlet, what do we have?

So I think a little harder. I glance at the screen a few times, scanning the page for something I’ve forgotten. Then I start typing. For me. For my sanity.

And to remember that our hobbies are crucial. Make time for them. Take a few minutes and do something you truly enjoy, for yourself, for those you care about, anything that gives you the feeling of artistic merit or release, even if that release comes from creating a small city out of model trains or playing an artful game of Madden 2005 or writing or designing your own site or crocheting rabbit-shaped stuffed animals or decorating the house. Even at work. During break. That taking 15 minutes out of your work day to do something fun is more productive than stewing over your work.

Remember that, above all else, hobbies are for us to unwind. That they’ll always be there when you come back. That they don’t understand the meaning of time. Most importantly, remember that our hobbies may not give us the support we need to live comfortably, but they certainly make life a lot more enjoyable.

Tags: Blogging, Books, Career, Friends, Meta, Photography, Television, Vilhauer, Writing |

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Loving the fourth

July 4, 2008


We walked down the street this morning. In near silence. With only birds and our own footsteps serving as a soundtrack. Cars had nearly disappeared from the landscape, the only transportation an occasional stroller or bicycle. Even the busiest of streets was vacated, with an expanse of space spanning its width where vehicles usually crowded.

We wondered, where is everyone?

Easy. They’re at the lake. They’re in their backyard. They’re with family, friends, scattered throughout the state, the nation, anywhere but Sioux Falls, anywhere but the place they typically call home, in an effort to run away from the approaching heat and savor the three day weekend.

They’re at the grocery store. They’re buying beer and chicken and chips and condiments. They’re sitting back in a lawn chair. They’re hiding the firecrackers as a police officer slowly rolls by, though what they don’t realize is that the police officer doesn’t give a damn as long as no one gets hurt.

I’m not jingoistic America monster, my friends. But this is the Fourth of July. The summer’s first real getaway. Memorial Day signifies the arrival of summer. Labor Day promises a bluster of fall. But the Fourth of July? It’s pure. Pure heat. Pure relaxation. Beers and grills and water and a whole bunch of nothing.

Everyone is out. Living life. And loving it.

So what are you doing at the computer screen?

Tags: Food, Friends, Sioux Falls, Vilhauer |

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