Tag Archives: Family

Basic Function, Larger Purpose

18 Thursday Oct 2018

Posted by in Family, Gender Identity, Sexuality

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Here’s a thought. Female breasts are there to feed babies.

Yeah I know, we (men, mostly) have put more significance into breasts other than their biological purpose. Because of their purpose, they help define femininity. That’s not a bad thing.

Part of our dystopic thinking has us alienate ourselves from the natural world, such as the purposes of our physical bodies. We exist, in part, in no way solely and totally,  to survive and perpetuate our species and our cultures and communities. It follows that men and women have roles that the sexes dictate. Now I know women can do more than bear children and breast-feed. I know that men can do more than donate sperm in the facilitation of conception. I also know that families are the basic social unit and exist in order that children may survive and flourish.

Oddly enough, I feel that I have to apologize for the way things are, that I must acknowledge the validity of every variant from that “traditional” norm. Now I know that same sex partners are doing as good a job of raising children as heterosexual couples. But ultimately there has to be a point of departure. Making every bond and friendship, the equivalent of a family, no matter how valuable or tenuous they may be, distorts and devalues the family. They are, ultimately, artificial constructs. Families exist because individual identities become subservient to the larger paradigm of family. husband/wife, father/mother.

This is not to discount our individuality, our own uniqueness as persons. But there is a place and a time for the ego to submerge.

Father’s Day

18 Monday Jun 2018

Posted by in Catholic Life, Family

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Today is a big day for me, what with me being a father and all. I’m at the stage of life where no ties, tobacco pipes, fishing lures, golf balls, or single malt Scotch whisky are wanted, needed, or desired. In my earlier post, Cast Iron Pleasures, I extolled the praises of my wife’s gift.

Today was a day of resting. #1 Son is in the final stages of moving to Church Hill, an historic Richmond neighborhood. So a visit would have been a strain. #2 Son wanted to take me to a cool restaurant, Indian Fields Tavern, located in a converted farmhouse on Rte 5, Charles City County. This is the back road to Williamsburg, that bicyclists and motorcyclists use for the excursion. It is a cool place. I was gratified to know that #2 son enjoys this restaurant and this rather quaint road as much as I do.

It is tempting to fill the post with a long digression on the historic significance of #1 son’s new residence and #2 son’s discovery of an area important in both the Colonial era and the American Civil War, but I will save that.

What’s on my mind is how my wife’s job on the late shift at Target (a good place to work, btw) turns my sleep schedule all askew. Today I missed Mass. I just was too tired, even to go to the late afternoon Mass. So I did a bit of contemplation at home.

I had worked out (swimming) five days in a row, so I needed a day’s rest. All in all, this Father’s Day was good.

The Present

14 Wednesday Dec 2016

Posted by in cooking, Exercise/ Fitness, food, Health Issues

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“Each new day is a gift. That’s why they call it The Present.”  So states a bit of 12-Step folk wisdom that is annoyingly accurate.

It’s been kind of painful around here, physical pain. I have some back pain that will not seem to abate. A trip to the orthopedic surgeon revealed no changes at the surgical site. Ergo, what I am experiencing is muscle pain.  That’s nice.  I guess.  So I’m back to swimming and walking and doing all the stuff I normally do, with no expectation that the pain is going to go away. Fair enough. As long as I know nothing is getting worse, I can live with the pain.

We don’t do any decorating for Christmas.  Being married to a person who has no commitment to organizing or cleaning means that the clutter  is the Decor.  Throwing a marriage away for slovenliness of the dwelling seems like a crappy reason to walk though.

Cooking is the general activity  for me around here. I fix dinner every night and groove on being a House Husband.  I did turnips Monday, for the first time in eons. I just peeled them, cut them up, boiled and mashed them with some dill weed and poppy seed.  Yummy.  I made salmon cakes with canned red salmon,  the kind they call “Sockeye”. I just added cracker meal, celery, dill weed and an egg and formed them in patties.  I fried them in my Scanpan nonstick skillet until golden brown.  The pan requires no added fat and they browned beautifully  Again Yummy.

I had a cooked sweet potato in the fridge and resolved to make a sweet potato pie with a Graham cracker crust.  Pulling out the trusty Betty Crocker Cookbook, going to page 331 were the directions. Simple and delicious.  I mean that.

I shared all this bounty with my stepmother.  That was the most satisfying aspect of the whole experience.

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Thanksgiving-Thanks Given

26 Saturday Nov 2016

Posted by in Love and stuff, Uncategorized

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The whole family, minus my niece, her husband and 13 month old daughter gathered at my sister’s for the Thanksgiving meal. Niece and Family were in North Carolina at her husband’s parents, who wanted their chance to spoil their granddaughter. 

We filled three tables. Dining outside was not a problem; the weather was that nice. I ate one plate of food , and felt good that I didn’t gorge myself. #2 son CD’s dog stayed at my house in his crate. He is a powerful pup and Mrs CorC? is fearful he might jump on me and reinjure my back. I appreciate her fear, but I will take the risk. Dog love is a wonderful thing.

I have that malaise again, where I have little enthusiasm for much of anything. I’m thinking my mojo will be working again soon. At least I hope so. 

I am blessed to have the people in my life that I have. 

The Breakup And The Surprise Meeting

18 Friday Nov 2016

Posted by in Adult Children, Depression, Love and stuff, Smartphones

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I finally broke it off. With Facebook.  I had had enough of the politics, the misinformation presented as fact, the snarky remarks from and at the people who don’t agree with the poster.  I let it get to me and decided I did not need Facebook.  I don’t need to seek the approval of total strangers  and to look for the “like” on a post as if it meant something more than mild agreement. So I deactivated my account. The next day I had a session with my counselor. He’s worked with me for almost 2 years.  I told him of the breakup and he thought it was a good idea.  He shared I’m not alone; that FB is crazy-making for a lot of  his clients.

So after my session, when we agreed that my hyperactive stomach may not be all nerves, I was on my way to the store to buy some omeprazole to handle the physical problems of hyperacidity.  On the way to the pharmacy, I realized I needed to stop by the auto repair shop to see if some knobs for Mrs CorC?’s Honda that my mechanic had ordered had come in. As I pulled in, whom should I see there but RBA, my elder son!  I did not recognize him at first, because I wasn’t expecting to see him there. He was supposed to be in Hickory, North Carolina where he was transferred about four months ago.  His wife told me a couple weeks earlier that he was negotiating a move back here. Evidently, he had accomplished it very recently.

Had anyone told me forty years ago, when RBA was an infant, that seeing my adult children would make my day, I would have looked at them in disbelief.  But it’s true. When RBA or CD come over, or even if I see them by chance, I am floating on air.  A lot of my sadness clears up.  The issues that dog me, e.g. no sexual intimacy in my marriage, fade to the background.

Mrs CorC? came home. We went out for dinner.  I read when I got home.  I purposely left the smartphone downstairs to keep it from tempting me when confronted with boredom when I went upstairs to listen to the Ten O’Clock News news, silently wanting it to end.  The hard truth is that the smartphone within easy reach has morphed into kind of a cyber-cigarette, to calm my nerves, to keep me from truly being with people.  I guess being secondary in a relationship to a tiny little computer just might generate a resentment or two.

With any luck, I will grow up before I die.

Drama Management

24 Thursday Mar 2016

Posted by in Big Business, Health Issues

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My hunch is that we all go through  the same things. I don’t care how you label yourself. You Tough Guys/Bitches can hide behind your personas  for only so long before you break down too.  Our loved ones are our loved ones and we care. Big insensitive and indifferent corporate bureaucracies will always procrastinate in their favor.

Right now, I’m working on one biggie, two medium-sized and and one small nagging chronic dramas.  First, my wife has a hard knot on the right side of her neck, where fluid accumulates when she chews and swallows. I don’t know what the Hell it is but I don’t like it.

“Do you think it’s cancer?” she asked me, as if I were an oncologist. The little voice in the back of my head is saying, “I wouldn’t rule it out”, but I can’t say that. She sees a dentist this afternoon and a doctor tomorrow morning. The dentist can rule out a tooth issue. The doctor can maybe do a needle biopsy and get an answer, but I think he’s going to order a CT scan, which means more worrying. I lost a dear cousin to head and neck cancer four years ago. We shall see.

Dramas #2 and #3 involve those perennial nemeses, insurance companies. We have the health/medical insurer who is denying a claim, pending I show medical necessity for  wisdom tooth extractions done under general anesthesia in a hospital OR.   My oral surgeon, highly respected by his peers, deemed it necessary and I have his notes. I’m waiting for the policy exclusion clause from my dental insurance policy, a group plan to be furnished by my employer, since I don’t have a copy of the policy. Once I get the documentation, the appeal should work in my favor.  It just means the insurance carrier can hold on to the money a little longer, collect interest on the reserve and leave the hospital and anesthesiologist standing there with open palms, as if they have no expenses to pay of their own.

Drama #3 involves the long term disability carrier who hasn’t paid on my disability claim since it began in November. I had been unable to work for the last six months previous to back surgery because I had a rotator cuff repair and my back pain, necessitating the surgery made work impossible.  I can’t work now because I had a spinal fusion the week before Thanksgiving. This procedure has a high probability of failure if it doesn’t heal properly and completely, so I am not rushing back to work where any bend, lift or twist could send me back to where I was before the surgery took place.  Pretending to be a fabulously wealthy billionaire who can live off his investments is fun, but I live in the Real World in Anytown, USA.  I complained to the Bureau of Insurance yesterday and the insurance carrier promised they would deal with my claim today. We shall see.

Drama #4 is the continuing saga of Number Two Son, an Asperger’s syndrome patient, who hasn’t quite figured out that his father wants to know that he is safe, healthy and relatively happy. This would require a regular phone call or text, letting me know where he is and that he’s doing OK.  The Prophet Elijah could fly across the heavens in a chariot of fire before he calls.  So Easter is coming up, a family time and word from him would be nice.

I’m praying my wife’s neck knot is no biggie, the insurance companies will pay their respective claims and my son will call or text or visit.

Stay tuned.