A Few Good Memes

We rode to the library this afternoon (only about 1.5 miles) to return some books and donate some old VHS and DVD movies. This is my recumbent bike with Ian’s trail-a-bike connected to one of the seatposts and Emma’s baby trailer connected to the trail-a-bike.

Yep, we got drenched later by that rain cloud in the background. It was a fun adventure.

On the other hand, maybe the Zen Master just wasn’t paying attention, spilled the tea, and made up some psychobabble to compensate.

“Ive been to hell. I spell it…i spell it DMV
Anyone thats been there knows
precisely what I mean
Stood there and Ive waited
and choked back the urge to scream
And if I had my druthers
I’d screw a chimpanzee-call it pointless”
- Primus, DMV

Indiana now has these “In God We Trust” license plates. They’ve had them since the beginning of the year. Seeing them around town, I’ve had a bit of trouble with the idea that separation is accomplished via a couple of steel bolts. Wouldn’t that be the fastening of church and state? But hey, if people want to profess their love of God on their cars, well, it’s free speech, right? There’s just one hitch. To get any other custom plate in Indiana, you pay $40. Custom plates like Support Our Troops, Purple Heart, the Boy Scouts, and the Colts football team. That $40 goes toward a $15 administration fee and a $25 donation to the organization you want to support. The God plates, however, are free. The $15 fee is waived. With a manufacturing cost of $3.69 a plate and almost a half million of them out there now, that means Indiana taxpayers have paid about $1.8 million to Trust God. Sounds to me like Indiana’s legislators have quite clearly made a law respecting an establishment of religion. Perhaps Rep. Woody Burton was too busy keeping my gay friends away from the altar to have read the damn constitution.

I was down at the BMV this morning to get plates for Hotaru (and found my personalized plate with her name won’t be here for just over a year). They were definitely promoting the God plate. I was shown the regular plate, the God plate, and no other custom plates. The ACLU is suing the BMV over this bit of political theatre. Good for them. I should send them a few bucks. When will these legislators either a) stop wasting our money passing these laws promoting their favorite religion? or b) just come out and try to repeal the first amendment outright?

I suggested to the editor of our paper this morning that perhaps they could continue to waive the fee if they also offered “In Krishna We Trust”, “In Allah We Trust”, and “Are You Kidding Me?” plates. I’d pay $15 for one of those.

One of my favorite stories concerns a Buddhist scholar and a Zen Master. The scholar had an extensive background in Buddhist Studies and was an expert on the Nirvana Sutra. He came to study with the master and after making the customary bows, asked her to teach him Zen. Then, he began to talk about his extensive doctrinal background and rambled on and on about the many sutras he had studied.

The master listened patiently and then began to make tea. When it was ready, she poured the tea into the scholar’s cup until it began to overflow and run all over the floor. The scholar saw what was happening and shouted, “Stop, stop! The cup is full; you can’t get anymore in.”

The master stopped pouring and said: “You are like this cup; you are full of ideas about Buddha’s Way. You come and ask for teaching, but your cup is full; I can’t put anything in. Before I can teach you, you’ll have to empty your cup.”¹

This is where I am right now. Patience is not one of my strong suits at all. But I’m learning that you can’t over-fertilize and over-water your garden or you’ll kill the seedlings that are just trying their damndest to poke their heads out of the soil. I sang “The Garden Song” with my kids and my good friends Michael and Denise yesterday at church (along with having played an African guy catching frogs in a puppet show, doing my best Nelson Mandela accent). The song was a great meditation on patience. “Inch by inch, row by row, gonna make this garden grow.”

Also, please go check out The Aftermath of Unicorns and Rainbows. Sam left a comment here a bit ago and I went to check out who she is. She’s a high schooler who lost half her family in the 9/11 attacks. She’s living with her aunt and her siblings in a pretty tough situation. I ended up reading her entire blog. I’m at the point where I’m reluctant to add anyone else to my blogroll since I’m not keeping up on the ones already there very well, but this was a slam dunk to add. Her writing is frank, heartfelt, vulnerable, and full of the hope of a teenager. It’s stunning, really.

This week I’m going to try and be mindful of keeping my cup empty.

¹I’d heard this story some time back, but would like to thank The Nebraska Zen Center for publishing it so I could find it and excerpt it here.

young-jase2

Originally uploaded by Jason Dufair.

My 20th year high school reunion is coming up soon. The guy organizing it asked for photos for a slideshow and DVD, so I finally got around to scanning a few photos and sending them to him (I guess there are some advantages to having sick kids that are just resting and watching the tube). Click on the photo for more blasts from the past.

So I’ve decided to go from toe-in-the-water-guy-who-might-like-to-date to, well, something more intentional. When I lost Anna, I really lamented the fact that I’ll never again have the person I spent my 20s (and 2/3 of my 30s) with. The person who’s bike was under the greyhound with mine as we spontaneously headed off to Martha’s Vineyard for the weekend. The person who I bought my first house with, a cute 1920s Arts and Crafts with 9 foot ceilings and dark cherry trim everywhere and lots of charm (if not lots of heat nor lots of convenient parking). The person I built so many shared friendships with. The person I integrated families with. The person I got to share the excitement and terror of having my first child with. And the joy of my second child. And the surprise of my third child The person I took care of through 17 months of terminal illness. I lost a lot.

But lately, I’m also seeing an enormous opportunity. A chance to do it all again. Lord knows I made my share of mistakes with Anna. Way more than my share. We had a good marriage. We were strong and committed for life. We weathered some storms that we saw tear some of our friends’ and family members’ marriages to pieces. I think a lot about the mistakes I made. But here I sit, looking at the possibility of Marriage 2.0. So many people wonder what they would do if they had it to do again. And I, by way of having won the shit lottery, do.

Here I am in my mid-to-late 30s and I have so much to offer. I don’t have to practice on anyone. I have a pretty good sense of who I am. I have a good career and financial security. I’m a romantic dreamer who hasn’t forgotten my wide-eyed 20s; who has become a responsible adult and parent with my priorities in the right place. I’m in good health and good shape. I’ve finally figured out how to eat healthy in a real way (and have now lost 43 pounds and counting doing so). I’m finding a balance between attending to the mundane and the shiney. I love my kids and being a parent. I could easily love someone else’s kids and treat them as my own. I would love for my kids to have a loving, strong, thoughtful, witty, self-assured woman in their daily lives who truly loves them. I would love to have someone to build and share wisdom with as our kids grow and have their own struggles.

What I long for, in every cell of my body, is to have someone to love unconditionally and to be loved in the same way. I suppose it sounds a bit corny or unrealistic, but I don’t think so. Life is suffering. Marriage is hard. Parenting is hard. But that sure doesn’t preclude having a love so deep it leaves you without words. And it doesn’t preclude being a romantic flirt even as the days, weeks, months, years roll by. Joy in spite of everything.

I did go on another date this week - coffee with someone I met on match.com. Hers was the only profile out of hundreds I’d viewed that I was inclined to pursue. I won’t say much in the interest of privacy and discretion. We had a nice time and I think there’s a lot of promise. It’s early with a lot of unknowns. If logistics allow, we’re going out again next week.

Some lyrics that have spoken to me lately on this subject (poor pronouns notwithstanding):

“I’m going to find myself a girl
Who can show me what laughter means
And well fill in the missing colors
In each others paint-by-number dreams
And then well put our dark glasses on
And well make love until our strength is gone
And when the morning light comes streaming in
We’ll get up and do it again” - Jackson Browne, The Pretender

“Stars look down and laugh at me
I ought to take a bow
Don’t have to tell them life’s hard sometimes
There’s one falling now
Nobody’s here beside me
I can talk about it to
All the ways I want you” - Bruce Cockburn, All the Ways I Want You

“Baby if you need me
Like I know I need you
There’s just one thing
I’ll ask you to do
Take my hand and lead me
To the hole in your garden wall
And pull me through” - Jackson Browne, Your Bright Baby Blues

Whee! Karrie nominated me for Hottest Daddy Blogger over at the Blogger’s Choice awards. Thanks, Karrie! Flattery will get you everywhere I’m not much for awards, per se. I don’t watch the Grammys, Emmys, nor the Oscars. I used to look forward to the MTV VMAs, but only because I wanted to see what antics those ke-razy rockstars would be up to. I think that show jumped the shark with the Guns ‘N’ Roses reunion. Haven’t watched it since. But I am indeed truly honored that Karrie would nominate me, Eden would comment (thanks, Eden!) and 10 people would vote. I blog for my own sake, both to get it out of me, and to enjoy and grow from the conversations that ensue. It really is its own reward. Except that you all had better get your asses over there and vote for me so I win!

Lots of other cool bloggers over there too. Pretty much everyone in my “blogfriends” group in my blogroll. Go vote for all of them too. Early and often.

I just read a great interview with one of my favorite novelists of all time - Tom Robbins. He said his personal motto has always been “Joy in spite of everything.” That so resonates with me. It’s always been my personal motto, too. I just never knew it until now.

The events of the last few days and a good dose of Jackson Browne lyrics are reminding me I have so much to unlearn. More on that later.

Alyssa and I watched Little Miss Sunshine. She really enjoyed it. I cringed, remembering just how many adult themes there are in that movie. But I enjoyed it anyway. We talked about those themes throughout the movie, i.e. “I really like the grandfather’s character. Too bad he chose to do drugs.” During the actual beauty pageant at the end of the movie, she looked at the contestants (other than Olive) and was saying things like “They look so fake!”

During our Friday lunch the next day, I asked Alyssa if the movie made her want to be in a beauty pageant more, less, or about the same. “Less.” Body language indicated that was about all she wanted to talk about it. Good enough for me. I think a bullet has been sufficiently dodged. None too soon, either. My friend Liz pointed out to me that many of these things are pyramid schemes that play heavily on kids’ and parents’ insecurities.

By the way, she said her favorite character in the movie was Dwayne (the brother). How he held to his convictions via a vow of silence. How he set a goal and didn’t let anything get in his way. That’s my Alyssa, for sure. I think she wants to read Nietzsche now.

Alyssa got a letter in the mail this weekend addressed to “The Daughter of Anna Dufair”. It appeared to be hand addressed. She opened it up and it turned out to be an invitation for her to be in a beauty contest. Yep. A beauty contest. Being reflexively repelled by the idea of Alyssa going the JonBenet route and living with the illusion that my kids just naturally absorb my generally progressive values by osmosis, I assumed she’d look at it and it would go in the recycle bin. Imagine my sheer joy when she announces that she wants to participate in said beauty contest.

Now, I’m not the type to just outright ban something that doesn’t put my kids in immediate danger. I think it creates the Salman Rushdie effect. I’d rather discuss, investigate, and gently guide them toward the only right way of doing things: my way. So I decided it was time to take this as a learning opportunity. Sometimes life’s gifts come in unexpected packages.

I’m about as informed on beauty pageants as I am on, say, the Lvov-Sandomierz Offensive. So I read the pamphlet. It’s cleverly engineered to pull at every insecurity a girl can have. Make friends! (You don’t have many now, do you?) Show your pride! (You’re not one of those insecure girls, are you?) Get ahead in life! (Or are you a loser?) They even play lip service to the deepest fear of every progressive parent: No makeup allowed on participants under 12! Except that every photo of every child of every age in the pamphlet was wearing makeup. And the entry fee is a mere $440. They provide many helpful hints on how to raise that entry fee. Ask local businesses to sponsor you, for example. They neglected to mention a plea to the blogosphere.

What I’d like to do is have Alyssa come to the type of understanding that Amanda Angelotti did when she re-entered the pageant world after a progressive-politics epiphany in late high school: “And I remembered the subtle dishonesty of it all.” I guess that’s the rub. Subtlety is a bit lost on 9 year olds. So I’ve decided to take the Zen approach and counter subtle with subtle. We got a copy of Little Miss Sunshine, the best movie I’ve seen in quite a while. There’s plenty of swearing and other adult themes in it, so we’re watching it together and talking about it. Hopefully the vapidity of the average contestant will impress upon her and demotivate.

She said she wants to be in the spotlight and to hear her name called. That’s pretty understandable, for sure. I’ve encouraged her to get involved in community theatre in the past. Perhaps it’s time to push that one again. Dear readers, I’m open to other suggestions of how to navigate these piranha-infested waters with a minimum of blood loss. Where’s Anna when I need her?

If all else fails, I guess we’re going to have to work something up for “Superfreak”.

(Seconds, mere seconds after the beauty pageant discussion wraps up, “Dad, is the tooth fairy real?”)