What better thing to write about than the birth of my new nephew!! Yesterday the world welcomes into it Eli Lange Stamps!  Great job Matt & Althea!  Ya did good little sis.  Now the real work begins :=)

In the house I grew up in the single dominating feature was the backyard. Large looming oak trees (3) and a deep expanse of grass that seemed to go on forever to my young eyes.

Other notable features included a sandbox on the far back/right corner, this was also the location of the occasional compost bin back when leaf pickup was a thing of the future.

At one point there was a large strawberry patch, grape vines and an assortment of fruit trees that I can’t recall ever eating. The garden held a special spot in the back/left side of the lawn. A wooden privacy fence kept kids and neighbors out, but all too often became something that I would fall off.

I loved that backyard, I would spend endless hours out there playing under the oak tree canopy that kept the yard shady on even the hottest day.

Although many things changes in that backyard, one thing remained constant — my Father’s riding lawnmower.

The yard was a little less than a quarter acre in size, big enough to warrant the need for a riding mower. Mowing that lawn was something my Father always took very seriously.

As a result, the lawn was impeccable. I suspect that the riding mower played a large part in that equation of excellence. Over the years he had a number of different makes and models. Names like Snapper, Simplicity and TORO were well known in our house.

When I bought my first house my Dad gave me the old Snapper trim mower. It didn’t matter to me that it was only 12 or 14 inches wide (can’t recall), it was a great mower that had been part of the Lange lawn tradition.

It was a sad day when it died, but a self propelled TORO push mower took its place. The TORO has done a decent enough job, being a mulcher it tends to get bogged down in certain shade areas, but all in all it works pretty decent.

My lawn is marginal at best. But that is about to change. On a recent call from by Dad:

Steve, I’ve decided to buy a new Simplicity mower.

What?? I think, he just bought that zero turn radius TORO less than four years ago. I ask what was wrong with it.

Oh nothing, I just don’t really care for it and want to go back to a Simplicity.

Okay, that I can understand — when he bought the TORO initially I was somewhat surprised that he went with a zero turn radius mower, it does have a learning curve. What he said next shocked me.

“Do you think you would want my old mower? They won’t give me squat on a trade in.”

“Of course I would love to have it!” I exclaimed.

At this point Karin starts to look at me funny, no doubt wondering what hair-brain thing I have just agreed to take as I shower him with thank yous.

So I have a riding lawnmower being delivered on this Saturday morning. My Dad even paid to have it delivered and like a typical parent refused to let me pay for the delivery.

This may sound crazy, and the thought of having a riding mower on with a lawn my size seems excessive at best — but I think my lawn is on the brink of a major change for the better. I am looking forward to see if this mower is its ticket to excellence.

The weather yesterday was craptacular, it started weepy and ended up humid.  Great start, great finish.  Its amazing how much the upcoming weather means to at the end of the week.  At the beginning I could care less, good or bad I am still looking down the upcoming work week with quiet resignation.

Around Thursday the weather radar starts to come online and by Friday it takes on a much more significant importance.

“Check weather.com and see what the weather is going to be like tomorrow.” Karin asked in a casually last night.

I happily fired up FireFox and silently hoped the news would continue to look good.  I don’t mind crappy weather, but I find myself still in Spring fever mode.

As I read off the predicted weather we both begin to think about what we want to do around the yard the next day.  Our yard is for lack of better words, a blank canvas, a stock carbon copy of so many other homes.

The backyard is barren of any trees, the front has the typical builder evergreens that no one in their right mind would never plant intentionally. Our two improvements are flower boxes and a fence.  I know what you are thinking — “Wheee!”

We feel the same way.  It doesn’t help of course that neither Karin and I are huge garden people.  I would like to be, but so far it just hasn’t panned out.  Our motivation at this point is almost embarrassment over the lack of change from when we moved in.

The general talk and plan we decided on was to get some flowers for the planters and plants for the side of the house.  I recently acquired a spade and am looking forward to laying out a curving spline with the hose to create some sort of bed on the side of the house.

Sounds like a great plan, somewhere in there we were also trying to plan a dinner party at a great German restaurant called the Bavarian Lodge in Lisle, IL — Karin was going to try and work in an early movie with her friend, my neighbor and I were going to talk seriously about fence staining, and on top of all that Maverick wanted to play catch with the football.

I thankfully prioritized correctly and went to play catch, but after about ten minutes Mav had had enough.  I however was just starting to enjoy the warm sun and cool breeze.  Then I had an idea.

A memory really of a kite that Grandma Betty bought for Maverick last year gathering dust in our office closet.  The wind was perfect and with an open space walking distance away, I knew what would be next on our agenda.

Bringing down the kite I was happily surprised to see that it was of decent quality.  Nylon, stitched and sporting a twenty dollar price tag.  A dragon kit, with a long tail.  Sweet!  In no time we had it in the air and soaring well over our heads.

Despite Maverick’s concerns I decided to let the line out to really get it some altitude.  It flew like a champ — Rock solid to be exact.  No threat of crash and burn here.  I so wanted to lie down and stare up into the azure sky and watch it fly but the fiery eye in the sky was exactly where the kite was flying and it was brutally strong.

It’s been probably 17 years since I really have flown a kite like that.  Sure I’ve helped Maverick with crappy inexpensive kites here and there but they have stayed well under 20-30 feet so I don’t really consider them to be real kite flying attempts.  I had forgotten how peaceful flying a kit can be.  I will have to do it again soon, preferably next time later in the day when the Sun won’t thwart my relaxation attempts.

Buried treasure has enthralled the human spirit since the beginning of time.  As a species we like to get something for nothing, we like to find things that are hidden, and we get excited by the very thought of finding something secret, something special.  Its hardwired into us at some molecular level.

History is full of examples, adventure seekers, some with lofty ideas, others with avarice infused spirits.  Treasure seekers, one and all.  Maybe it was god they were after — maybe it was land.  Either way, resistance was futile.

And so it was for me this last Sunday.  Keeping a six and a half year old boy entertained can be harder than you think when you eliminate television, video games and the computer. Eventually you know that at some point you will hear those words you dread…

“I’m bored Dad.  There is nothing to do.”

Ugg.  That’s right — Ugg.  Next to the often chanted “Are we there yet?” the boredom line is second on the list of patience building phrases our little bundles of joy utter that drive us crazy.

Well today I was ahead of the curve — I was ready.  I patiently waited for the statement to come, patience.. patience.  Now, you have to understand, as Father’s we are in a great many respects, nothing more than big kids (just ask our wives).  As such we like sit back and savor the sweet glow of delight that happens when we truly surprise another family member.

“Dad… I’m bored.  There is nothing to do.” Maverick said.  The time had come.

“Bored you say huh?  Hmmm… Well, its a nice day out, grab your shoes we are going on a hunt for Buried Treasure!” I say with giddy delight.

Its at this point during the flurry of excitement that I let my son know we are going to try our hands at Geo-caching.  Geo-caching is basically a big game of hide and seek.  Players take a container of some sort and hide it in random location.

To the rest of the world — they are no wiser.  To the geocacher with the caches longitude and latitude location, it offers a way to live out a Father and Son’s Buried Treasure Adventure.  When a cache is found, the log book is signed, a treasure is taken out and replaced by another.  Pretty cool concept to be honest.

So off we went, with what I thought was my elite entry level Garmin Nuvi automobile GPS.  You could feel the excitement in the air as we  reached our first destination.  With GPS held in front we navigated to our destination and… could not find the cache.

After consulting with my engineer friend Paul, I quickly learned that the automobile GPS devices are not really the best choice for geocaching.  Crap, there goes that budding activity.  But like so many other times, Paul has a unit that will fit the bill that he said I can borrow.

Until then, Maverick and I will be thinking of buried treasure and the adventures to come as Father & Son.

Never in my life have I been more excited about the changing of the Presidential guard. “Out with the old, in with the new!” I hear myself chanting in my head.

In reality I wonder if “new” is ever obtainable in American Presidential elections? I’d like to believe that it is, but the fact of the matter is that the entrenched machinery of the government and the special interest groups have a tendency to grind away political idealism and such the fervor of change right out of the Presidency.

Or like in the case of George W. Bush, political and social pressures ripped away the thin veneer of sanity to reveal something darker and more frightening underneath.

Whatever the case, whomever is elected President in 2008 has a monumental task of repairing public opinion at home and abroad of the Unites States, and in particular in its government. Between the war and the economy, we have to consolidate and refocus on our own problems and our own borders before we implode.

Have a look at this site when you have some time, it offers a pretty decent way to compare the candidates and see their relative information.

I have come to a conclusion. As conclusions go, it’s not or gasp inspiring or earth shattering, but it is never the less a pretty decent conclusion. So what is it? Rather than let it continue to annoy you like a gnat or itch you cannot scratch I’ll just come out and say it — Alcohol is the Great Communicator.

Huh? Well its simple really. Some people are born communicators, its in their blood and even if you wanted to shut them up, you would fail miserably. Others it can be like pulling teeth. My German side of the family (Father) is notorious for never talking with each other.

I don’t think its a conscious decision on their part, I think it just never crosses their minds, like its something burned into their genetic code. My wife’s side of the family (Mother) are just as bad.

For a long time we have tried to come up with ways to get them talking. Everything from gentle nudging to open confrontation (which often didn’t go as planned). Recently at my wife’s family Christmas, alcohol was applied like never before. And not just any alcohol, but bourbon!

The sweet burn of burbon trickled down our throats and warmed our bellies, and loosened our collective lips. People started talking, really talking, and some interesting things were learned which might not have been said without that key element — Bourbon.

I have my family Christmas coming up in a few weeks, in addition to the presents and food items we will be bringing, something extra will be coming, I’ll let you guess what it will be.

Reuters report that talk show host Oprah Winfrey has officially given Barack Obama the official “Oprah’s Favorite Things” stamp of approval during a campaign rally at William Brice Stadium in Columbia, South Carolina.

This leads me to ask a question that needs to be asked — do we really need Oprah to give her seal of approval to Obama? The mere fact that she has, gives me pause for concern.

I like Obama, he is from my home state, and appears to be a class act, someone with a good head on his shoulders. What has me concerned is his relative lack of experience in the global political arena.

Oprah urges votes to consider Obama’s “life experience” instead of focusing on the amount of time he has spent “in the hallways of government.”

WTF? Seriously. WTF?

By those standards Mother Theresa would have been the best candidate for President for the last forty years. We are talking about the Presidency here. Life experience can go only so far. Despite what Oprah might want us to believe, past political experience in the national and international arena is pretty damn important for our President to have.

Maybe I should be happy about Oprah’s endorsement. The way things were looking I was going to more than likely vote for Obama anyway, like I stated earlier, I like him.

With the global voting apathy that plagues the United States if Oprah can get the untold masses off their collective asses to vote, well that is something at least.

I personally would rather see a voting enforcement system put in place. On election days all cable and internet access is cutoff. To get it turned back on all a person has to do is go vote. Upon voting they are issued a code and an 800 number that they can call from their home phone to reactivate the internet and cable TV access.

Maybe then we would have a president elected truly by the people, not by a small percentage of the total people who actually voted. And look at it this way, the same segment Oprah is looking to lure in would still go out and vote, after all being able to watch Oprah would be on the line.

On my way to and from work I listen almost exclusively to National Public Radio. NPR has camps of people who either like it, or think its just another example of a pinko commie liberal media outlet, I find it to be a decent source for news when I am driving.

Every day I listen to updates on topics such as the sub-prime mortgage situation, the suspension of the constitution in Pakistan and the war on Iraq.

In short — things that matter. Things that are important. I guess having these topics swirling around my head is too much for my brain, they seem to consume my celebrity awe.

Take this latest Britney Spears incident reported by TMZ. Why is it any surprise to us that she is a terrible mother, a white trash has been with a drinking and drug problem. Why does the train wreck that is her life continue to collectively enthrall us as a society?

From Fox News…Britney Spears blew a red light at a notoriously dangerous Los Angeles intersection Thursday night, with her two young sons in the back and a court-
appointed monitor crouched down in the front, TMZ reported.Spears approached the light slowly on Coldwater Canyon in Los Angeles, then raised her cell phone to her face before driving into the intersection as someone outside the car screams, “Red light, red light!”Spears then turns left onto Mulholland Drive, managing to miss oncoming traffic, TMZ reported.

Take away the “celebrity” status and you have a person that would otherwise be in jail. But add that celebrity status and oh my god how line up to kiss her ass.

What interests me most about this story is the court-appointed monitor. Why was he/she crouched down in the front seat?

What ultimately will this monitor do — put the nail in the coffin of Britney Spears or kow-tow yet again to the celebrity status?

Either way she might want to revise her “Oops! I did it again” lyrics to “Oops! I fucked up again”. Its a recurring theme for her, and something a fitting theme song for this sad, sad excuse for a mother, pop star, human…

Lucky for me, thoughts of Britney will be banished from my thoughts on my way home by the comforting/pinko commentary (I’ll let you decide which) of NPR.

To atheist Rob Sherman, its not enough to strike the word “God” from the public school system, books, pledges and architecture. Sherman has a bigger goal — the removal of all potential for “thoughts” about God.

At issue is the Illinois “Moment of Silence” law, or the (105 ILCS 20/) Silent Reflection and Student Prayer Act. as it is formally known. The law allows for an observance of a brief period of silence by all pupils in the classroom at the beginning of the school day.

The law specifically states that it is not to be conducted as a religious exercise, but rather an opportunity for silent prayer or reflection on the anticipated activities of the day.

And there is the rub, one word… prayer. Sherman seems fixated on the religious meaning of the word while overlooking the fact that it also has a secular meaning. A prayer can be defined as an earnest or urgent request or as an appeal for help.

Thankfully we don’t live in the Orwellian society of Sherman’s dreams where thoughts can be controlled and suppressed. Students are free to think about God, on the taxpayer’s dime no less, and this possibility for religious thought is enough to push atheists like Sherman into a state of secular zealotry.

Sherman himself describes the Act as using “legal trickery” to deny the obvious. Despite the fact that the Act clearly states that the period is not to be conducted as a religious exercise. Sherman insists that it is in fact a religious exercise.

I personally find it amusing that a man who has used legal loopholes and trickery in the past to force his beliefs on the public (Note to Sherman: before you say that you haven’t used legal loopholes, I just want to let you know that I am “insisting” that you did, so it must be the case despite what you say) is now cry foul when the same tactics are used to defuse his arguments.

Whats good for the goose is apparently not good for the gander. I would suggest that Sherman pray for a miracle. At this point this is really the only hope I can see him having of succeeding in his quest. Sadly, as an atheist Sherman, like his lawsuit doesn’t have a prayer.

As a writer, its important to know your strengths and weaknesses. Being aware of these flaws only helps to make your writing better, and to avoid the inevitable pitfalls that one can find themselves in because of them.

Take me for instance. Prone to spelling errors and questionable use of grammar, I know that I am a multi-edit type of person. Sometimes my writing makes the first cut, sometimes the 5th. Generally speaking though, two to three edits seems to be my norm.

I have also learned from painful example that when I attempt to be funny, witty, or sarcastic I usually end up looking like an asshat. So is something I try to avoid.

My wife recently brought to my attention an article that appeared in the Daily Southtown titled “Foreign orphans better than ours“. It had surfaced on an international adoption group that my wife started and had caused quite the stir. No doubt Mr. Kadner’s intention.

Adoption is an emotion soaked experience, it doesn’t matter if it is domestic or international. Here in th states the public is largely uninformed about the adoption process, costs and reasons that people turn to adoption.

I keep going back and forth trying to decide if Kadner was attempting to write something satirical, trying to be funny or just clueless. I’ve always considered writing effective if it makes me think about something, generally speaking I like those thoughts to be about the topic being written and not about the mental state of the writer.

Kadner’s rant supposes that American orphan’s are somehow lesser in quality than international orphans. Horse puckey. What he fails to realize is that people turn to international adoptions because of a desire for structure, order and assured end results — A Baby.

Domestic adoptions of young children are subjective, an applicant family needs to be chosen by a birth mother. We personally have know people who waited over a year to be chosen, only to turn to international adoption for some semblance of a structured timetable.

Add to that the fact that almost a third of birth mothers change their minds and decide to keep the baby. Good for them, bad for the family that has become emotionally invested and wasted what could amount to years of their time.

Many adoptive families have already gone through years of heartbreak prior to starting the adoption process. These are people who desperately want to be parents, to raise a baby. Its an amazing experience, why is that so hard for Kadner to understand?

In the end, Kadner comes off looking like an uneducated bush league writer trying to be witty, and funny and failing miserably. His choice to people and topic to address could only be worse if he had targeted the handicapped or mentally ill. Oh well, I suppose he always has next week.