Wally Backman

Over on Facebook, I recently came across a fan page for Wally Backman, the firebrand utility player who showed that utility guys could be impact players. He's got a World Series ring, to prove it.

• Wally is my direct connection to the major leagues.
• Wally was my grandparents' next-door neighbor in rural Beaverton, Oregon when we were kids.
• Wally taught me to throw and to hit.
• Wally must have been all of 14 or 15 at the time.

The fan page for Wally is a campaign to get him the Manager's job for the Mets. He had a near-miss with the Diamondbacks a handful of years ago, and I think he's the right guy for the Mets at this particular time.

There. I said it. This I believe. Others will have a myriad of opinions. I don't care. I will not be swayed with your separate analysis. If the others had taken the time to teach me the game, and THEN gone on to show they knew what they were talking about, I might be inclined to listen.

In the meantime, just this once, this highly analytic fan is going to go with his heart, letting his emotions carry the way, and supporting an imperfect-but-catalytic man toward a higher achievement.

Go, Wally, Go. An emotional, imperfect Man? Yup. We all are. It's those emotions that make you right for the job. You're not running for President, you're a potential candidate for a job as Manager of the F'in' Mets. Baseball Managers need to be firebrands. I wish you the very best luck, sir.

And thank you for teaching a punk eight year old how to handle a ball. I may not play, but I'm the guy in the stands who quietly keeps score...and by the third inning, people next to me are asking questions. By the Fifth inning, the answers have become a running color commentary from the score book. Your place in baseball is glorious; mine is miniscule. But we both share a love for the game. AND, I can honestly say that the 14 year old Wally taught me to love the game.

Thank you, sir, thank you.

R Takes Responsibility - UPDATE

As I approached home last night, after a long drive from work, and approached the turn onto our street, I saw a tall young man running toward me on the opposite side of the intersection. As he rounded the corner onto my street in front of me, I recognized him as my son. I often see my son run in a plodding, I-don't-want-to-do-this way. This time, he was running with great long strides like a distance runner. He was also carrying a bucket.

When I got parked in the driveway, R was putting the bucket away in the garage. He was beaming with a clear sense of self-satisfaction. Seems his business had a really good first day of operations.

Three hours of weeding work for his first customer netted him a check for $30, and two hours more work. It also netted R a happy and satisfied customer. And if that weren't enough, R also acquired a second customer with a weeding project. This second customer has already pre-paid R for two hours of weeding work.

The result? R has earned $70 of the $95 required to pay back his lawn mower in just three days. The irony was very clear to R -- he's almost paid off his lawn mower, but has yet to even USE his lawn mower!

He was dirty from the work, AND he was happy. He's off to the beach for some one-on-one time with the grandparents. His customers are pleased, Mom is pleased and proud.

There will be challenging days, and failures. Just not today. And that's good. A thanks to God and the Concourse for watching over R's first forays into teenage-type maturity.

R Starts Taking On Responsibility

My son is still squirrelly, but he's also developing a longer-range view of things. I see progress in his ability to focus himself, though he still backslides (with amazing ease, sometimes) into six-year-old silliness. It is clear that he attempts to get himself into a more mature carriage. I saw him handle Boy Scout merit badges in such a way that I really had to do nothing but spend time with him; he knew where to be and when to be there. He knew what he had to do. He just needed someone nearby...like training wheels that the young beginner no longer leans upon...

I should also point out that R has been off prescription ADD meds for over a month now. Yes, he's a bit more squirrelly. But he's also eating like mad (3x the calories he used to eat), sleeping well, and thinking pretty clearly overall. It will be interesting to see how he feels/thinks/behaves when he goes back on ADD meds for school.

This ballooning thing is getting serious. R is taking it very seriously. For example, R has just started a lawnmowing business to help finance his pilot training. This has pretty much become his own idea. We *may* have planted the seed, but he took full ownership of the idea over the weekend.

To the point that yesterday he bought a power lawn mower of his own, using his own money. It's a simple little Murray push mower. The wheels are adjustable; it's a rear-bagger; it has a kill switch bale on the handle. It's got a red deck, and its in good shape. He paid $95 of his own money for it, and knows that he has to pay ALL that back before he can even think about spending his profits. His mom and he brought it home in the Odyssey, and he - beaming with pride - immediately mowed the front yard to show us all how well it works. I felt pretty comfortable with his choice. The mower is in good shape, and requires that the bag be in place to operate - that keeps his feet from getting under the back of the deck. Good thinking.

Mom bought him a 'log book' to track his jobs and customers. He'll be able to write down the work he did, and use that to bill his customers.

A little while later, R and I worked out a sales pitch. We outlined his script, and rehearsed a couple times. It was simple and to-the-point:

"Hi. My name is ________, and I live here in the neighborhood. I'm starting a lawn mowing business to earn money for my Hot Air Balloon Pilot's License. Can I mow your lawn for you?"

I helped him understand that the customer's response will be either "No thanks!" or they'll ask a question. We thought up the ten most likely questions and wrote down the answer he should give. Prepared for most anything, we took our sales pitch door-to-door in the neighborhood.

And, as is the way of the world, even though he was well prepared, success threw him something he hadn't even considered. Of five houses tried, four weren't home. At the one house with someone home, they hired him to do the lawn AND to do some large-scale weeding.

The sales pitch was perfect. When R said what he was earning the money for, the lady smiled a big happy smile and said, "I've been in a hot air balloon before! It's wonderful. You want to be a pilot? That's great. Now, how much will it cost for you to mow my lawn right over there?"

The coolest part was seeing R recognize that she responded with a question, and that he had a potential sale. Instead of his usual tensing at the question, he relaxed instead. He knew he had a probable customer and that the hardest part was over. I really enjoyed seeing him figure out the good news.

After the lawn discussion, the new customer looked carefully a R and asked "do you think you could do some weeding?" Ah-hah! Off-menu work. We hadn't considered diversifying into weeds yet!

There was some give-and-take on the weeding job. It's a big job - probably 4-6 hours for him. BUT, he knows he's earning money and that he's paying for his flight lessons starting in August, 2011. AND he knows that the more he earns now, the easier it'll be in the long run.

So we wrapped up our door-to-door work once we had this customer in place. R has a big job to do over this week, AND one ongoing customer to figure out the weekly mowing schedule. I suggested he make a flyer with R's sales pitch, and use that as a leave-behind when no one is home. He thought that was a great idea. So we headed home. When we got there, we found M sitting at the kitchen table - get this - making a flyer for Ryne to use advertising his lawn mowing service! Nobody had said anything to her about it; she was just helping out!

Later that evening, after dinner, I checked in on R. He was in his room, using his computer. He showed me what he was doing - creating a 'visit card' as his leave-behind when he mows someone's lawn and they aren't home. Again, I told him that would be a good idea ... he ran with it and took his own initiative to make it happen.

On the ride back from summer camp. one of the boys in the senior patrol rode with us. This young man is nearly finished with his Eagle work. He also started in the troop as squirrelly as R has been. And yet, he's grown up to be a well-regarded and consistent young leader. Over a root beer float at the A&W, this young man explained to R that he is now in the 'middle'. He's not one of the younger scouts either by experience or by rank. He can lead the younger scouts and show them the proper way. Then, this young man dropped the bomb on R. He told R that virtually the entire Senior Patrol will be gone in the next 12 months... and that leaves R among the oldest scouts in the troop. The suggestion was that R should start to learn from the older scouts now, so he has techniques in place before they are all gone. This was a wake up call for R. I could tell his gears were spinning on this, and recognizing the truth in it.

He's stepping up with a lawn mower. He's refining his demeanor for ballooning. He's coming to realize that he's next in line in the Troop. He's growing in responsibility.

Whether he likes it or not...something tells me he'll like it as soon as he masters it.

Boy Scout Summer Camp

Short and sweet:

Camp Makualla Review

Good:

• Four merit badges for R.
• An opportunity to try the rock climbing wall even though he's technically underage.
• The food, all things considered

• The environs. Crescent Lake reminds me of old Spirit Lake
• Camp was very engaging for all the boys.

Bad;

• Bugs. Mosquitoes by the gross. And they were persistent. They'd figured out that there was blood behind that bug spray so they pushed right on through. Relentless.
• Some apparent, but unprovable, favoritism in the camp-wide competitions. Troop 22 should have placed high in the overall competition, but the camp staff seemed to enforce a "out of council" penalty. Rules and conditions often emerged after the competition, citing rules that weren't made clear at the BEGINNING.
• Staff all on the same page regarding competitions and schedules. There's still some inconsistency in the execution of the programs

M's Teeth are Moving

I'll post a new photo to the blog later today, when I can take a snapshot. Here's the deal, in LESS THAN 14 DAYS, M's wayward front tooth is pointed correctly. Her smile is COMPLETELY different.

That was a FAST start, I must say...

First Ascent

If you've never seen a woman in her forties do the "happy dance" with the same purity of emotion as a four year old, then you've never really lived.

I, and a small group of friends, got to see that today.

The Typhoon is spinning off in differing directions for the next week. The parents will split time at Boy Scout Summer camp, while R attends all week. M will attend her ballet intensives, and spend some time at the beach with grandparents. I'll hold down the fort for the first half of the week.

So, when the call came to do a little balloon crew work on Friday morning, we made our schedules fit and showed up. Turns out there was a surprise in store for C, R and M.

This time, we had trouble getting out the door. Nobody except Dad seemed 'able' to get out of bed at the 4am time required. Good thing we pre-planned and everyone had effectively slept in their crew clothes. We got out late, but not as late as it could have been. Two cars down to Woodburn so I could go directly to work afterwards, and we got there only a few minutes late.

As we pulled in to the launch site, we got our first surprise. There, sitting at the launch site, were TWO trailers - Pacific High's trailer (whom we were expecting) and the Floatin' On Air rig of the Rafns. A closer look while we drove by and parked, showed that both the elder and younger Rafns were there. As were a small crew - including Terri from my work - just starting to roll out the Pacific High balloon.

W parked, joined in, and got the update. Pacific High was flying a commerical flight for a family from New Orleans; Floatin' on Air was running a tandem check-test on their new balloon, Morning Melody. So we helped Pacific High get airborne, then we turned our attentions to Morning Melody. I must say it was excellent practice to setup and launch two balloons back-to-back... good repetition for procedures.

As we got Morning Melody ready to launch, J (the younger Rafn and the obvious pilot for this morning's flight) announced that he was ready. Then, he said the fateful words:

"c, R, M... you ready to get in the basket?" The reaction was a moment of stunned surprise for those named.

"You... you mean I get to FLY with you???!?!?!" C blurted.

That's when the happy dance took place.

Then she forgot to breathe.

AND she started to well up with tears of joy.

T Rafn stepped up to her and gently said, "Breathe. Remember to breathe. And no tears. Stop that right now." C made a big effort to calm down a bit, and asked in a desperate voice for her camera, which was in the car. The camera was retrieved and all were loaded into the basket with Jesse.

Launch was gentle and smooth... a couple burns to to heat the envelope, and the balloon lifted with the fluid majesty and graceful bulk of a frolickiing grey whale.

My job? Drive a chase vehicle. I didn't have to be lead chase, but I had the Pacific High rig at my disposal. T led the way. It was a picture-perfect flight. Winds were steady but slow. The balloons drifted along at about 4 mph all the way. Winds at different altitiudes give steerage to both the right and the left of the ideal landing spot, a small private airstrip just north of Keizer. As a result, both balloons landed in the same 10 yard by 10 yard corner of the airstrip.

Ground crew had a leisurely drive to the airfield, and spent about half an hour sitting in lawn chairs, watching the balloons proceed at a pace barely faster than a stroll. On the route, we called up on the radios for a status check. T asked how the Typhoon passengers were doing.

"I don't think I've EVER seen a happier person" replied J, the pilot, "Be sure to tell N that he's going to need to free up a LOT of money to keep his family in balloon equipment." The laughter in the chase vehicles was enormous,to say the least.

So there we were, on the air field, watching the balloons coming in, like planes on final approach at PDX. Except SllloooooWWWWWWeeeeerrrrrrrrrrr. As the balloons came in, they held a line just west of the air field, then negotiated a left turn as they came to ground through the west-to-east winds on the surface. Gentle bumps and they were down.

Ground crew completely packed up the Pacific High balloon while Morning Melody made its final approach. We had the gear in the trailer just as Morning Melody touched down. Jesse was smiling. The Typhoon? Beaming. Radiant. Resplendent, Glowing. How do I possibly describe? My lovely wife was transported. My often-unfocused son had a laser-locked look in his eye. M? situationally aware as she always is, she had the contentment of a super-cool experience.

In the chase vehicle, heading back, the Typhoon traveled with the Rafns. We debriefed a little. When asked if they still wanted to pilot for themselves, both C and R responded with an emphatic yes. The kind of yes you punctuate by hammering the table with your shoe. THAT kind of yes.

So, working at the edges of my own knowledge, I asked R about J's flying techniques, R could point out in detail how J both followed the techniques in the manual, and how he deviated. R also pointed out that J tended to 'contour fly', which called for a closer touch and varied technique. That's when J offered up that R would begin with lots of straight-and-level flying and proper handbook technique. J was already instructing. And R was COMPLETELY listening, with his ears, brain and whole heart.

I have some of Terri's photos posted to the family facebook page; others to follow when I get my hands on C's photos.

The Rite of Writing Right

Fourth of July Weekend -- we've got a bit of a rhythm going. It's a busy rhythm, but it's a rhythm nonetheless.

R is working on his writing, and adapting to life without ADD meds. He's taking some naturopathic substances, but generally going without hardcore meds. It's been pretty okay, all things considered. He's squirrelly, but he's ALSO very present more attentive, and highly interactive. He's also just a wee bit more impulsive in the sense that he acts annoyingly, but he's actually aware of this trend and how others respond. So he's working on it. Paradoxically, he writes more prolifically when he's not on his meds. I have to consider that for some time...

R is dancing at ballet intensives three days a week. Then she works on her writing, too. I don't ask her to write; she just writes as it is. She picked her own project - a fictional story about a nine year old girl and her pet cat. This dynamic duo are secret superheroes with incredible ninja powers. The story will be all their amazing adventures together.

C has been painting tables. Some for our personal use and decoration. At least one for sale. She's been writing some, too. Specifically, ad copy for her items for sale.

All-in-all, there's a lot of writing going on in the house. This has the effect of subconsciously helping R realize that writing is a normal daily process. But it does have some unintended side-effects.

Like yesterday, July 5th. I was sitting in the living room toward the end of the afternoon. Dinner was cooking away in the oven, and all family members were nearby. C was in the home office, near the front door, writing on her laptop. M was at the kitchen nook table, writing a story on her laptop. R was lounging on the living room loveseat, just across from me, writing on HIS laptop. Me? I'm trying to read the Balloon Pilot Handbook.

An important detail to this story is to point out that I'm a pretty darned good speller. The rest of my family? Not so much. R and M are about age appropriate; C is admittedly weak at spelling, but that doesn't stop a good writer. So it doesn't stop her. Anyway, about every two minutes, M would call out, "Dad, how do you spell _____". And I'd answer by spelling the word for her. R, was doing exactly the same thing - every couple minutes, he'd ask for help spelling a word, and I'd help. Well, darned if C wasn't playing the same game. Except, in her case, the questions were more along the lines of "Hey, N, the sentence is 'don't put it there'... which spelling of 'there' do I use?"

Three writers each asking one spelling question of ME every couple minutes.... that pretty much averaged out to me spending 20 seconds out of every 40 answering their question and spelling the word.

From the office....."Hey, N? do I apostrophize ....."

"yes, in that instance you use an apostrophe.", then I glance down at my page to relocate my spot.

Then, from the loveseat ... "how do you spell 'species'?"

"S-P-E-C-I-E-S.", then I try to find my place again.

Then, from the kitchen nook .... "Dad, if declawed is a word, then is reclawed?"

"hmm... spell it R-E-dash-C-L-A-W-E-D." look for my place....

Then, from the love seat ... "how do I spell 'biosphere'?"

"B-I-O-S-P" he cuts me off..

"Right That's how I spelled it, but the spell checker doesn't like it."

"Oh, that's okay. 'biosphere' may not be in the dictionary for your word processor yet."

"Oh, Okay." he responds as I glance back at my page. My eyes don't even get focused before I hear from the office, ... "do you spell 'tempera paint' T-E-M-P-U-R-A?"

"No, not unless you're dipping it in rice flour and deep-frying it."

and around and around it went. I read the same page 20 times.

After a good 45 minutes of this, I lovingly but firmly said out-loud to all my family members:

"Okay. I'm glad to help with spelling, but I've done nothing but answer spelling questions in turn for 45 minutes. It's time for my family members to stop leaning on Dad as the spelling crutch. I can help, but this has been ridiculous."

There were sheepish looks on the two kids, and a sheepishly nervous chuckle from the office, as the three realized what they'd been doing. They must have all realized that they needed to pay Dad back, because almost simultaneously, they all said:

"hey, do you want to read what I've written so far?"

I wasn't that upset... my family was writing. All of them. Writing their own things. R had no problem staying on task because he was surrounded by writing. I think he sensed that others help each other write, and that - in its own way - writing can be a social activity.

We broke up the writing workshop and quickly shared each others work. A spirit of collaboration popped up from that. Again, the boy struggling to write saw that we could all contribute to making our respective writing better.

That was a much-needed lesson. For us all.