Teaching a 4-year-old to Ski

On Sunday of this past weekend, Devon and I took Devon's Nephew, Cameron, on his first ski trip. Being a relatively good skier myself, and recalling that when I was 6 or 7 or 8 (or however old) I picked up skiing pretty quickly - with my black skin-tight pants with hot pink shin pads, I figured that after maybe a half day, Cameron would be able to get down the bunny hill. Things did not go as planned.

The night before heading out, I called a friend who is a ski instructor (Darren Levitt, who's father has seen Aimee Welsh almost naked) to ask for some tips on how to teach a 4-year old to ski. He gave me a couple of ideas, but stressed most of all two things: the day would be about familiarizing Cameron with ski equipment, and that the goal really is to show Cameron a good time on the mountain.

We got to blue-hills ski mountain on Sunday of President's day weekend. On top of this, Groupon, apparently, offered a deal for a reduced price rental and lift ticket package over this weekend. This was mistake number one -- crowds.

Lines actually moved pretty quickly and after about $180 bucks (rental equipment and lift tickets for Me, Devon, and Cameron) and 30-45 minutes, we were ready to hit the slopes. First victory of the day, Cameron loved ski boots. He had no complaints that his feet hurt, no complaints about cold feet, and loved walking in the boots. Considering how well it went with the ski boots I figured maybe this wouldn't be so tough after all.

The success with the ski boots was quickly negated by the crowds at the mountain. The Bunny hill was packed like Geppetto's (Union College bar, you'll recall it was very crowded) on a Saturday Night. There was no room to do the little exercises that Darren suggested. Darren suggested that Cameron begin with one ski: he should try to turn around in a circle in the direction of the inside edge of the ski he clicked into -- apparently this uses the muscle required for ski turning. Cameron got his ski on with no problem. Devon and I decided to try Simon Says to eventually get him to spin. Cameron was not interested. Darren also suggested that, with one ski on, Cameron should use the ski like a scooter, and to begin to feel what it is like to slide. Devon and I decided to try "red-light, green-light", which lasted for less 15 seconds. Cameron was not interested in our games. He was interested in 1) looking around at everyone else, 2) putting both of his skis on, and 3) hitting ice chunks with the single ski pole we rented. Of these things, he was by far the most interested in #3.

Since Cameron was not interested in the lesson ideas, and seemed to be interested in trying to ski (when we finally got the ski pole from him), Devon and I gave up and decided to just try to teach him to ski. We hiked over to a part of a beginner slope - way off to the side - that was pretty empty and, after taking a break and making snow angels, eating skittles, and hitting things with the ski pole, tried to teach him to ski.

I'll spare you most the details, but apart from being able to click into his bindings, it didn't' work. If we tried to hold him up, he'd stop trying to stand and would just let his legs dangle. If we sort of let him go, he tried to move his skis as if he was walking (which, I guess, is natural for someone who's never done this) and then would immediately fall. Then we tried to have him lean on a ski pole, which Devon and I held, parallel to the ground, at around his waist height while standing next to him. He just kept sliding underneath it. He couldn't even stand, but would end in that awkward position that only kids can get into where your back is laying on the tails of your skis.

We took another break, and sat and watched other people ski, and then ate more skittles. After a little while, Cameron agreed to try skiing again but we had identical results. Eventually, Cameron said he wanted to go home. This was after about 45 minutes on the mountain (and $180) in. I asked him to try one more time, he agreed, but it just wasn't happening. He never cried, he never whined, but he also never really got it. After giving it one more shot, Cameron lay on the tails of his skis and looked done. So we stopped. We returned our gear, threw out our never-used lift tickets, and went to get lunch.

Cameron was in great spirits at lunch. I think he was just happy to be off the mountain. He ate almost an entire short stack of chocolate chip pancakes, a ton of french fries, and a giant glass of chocolate milk. Then Devon and I brought him back to the house and read him a book called Marvin the Farting Dog - he loved it, and insisted we read it to him 4 times consecutively. He also laid giant farts while we read him the book about a farting dog. Then he watched this show called Calliou until his mom came.

I mention all of this for a couple of reasons:
1) I learned a lot of practical lessons about teaching very young kids to ski: don't buy a lift ticket on your first day, don't go on a crowded holiday weekend; ski school might be a better invention than chap-stick on a string.
2) I learned a lot of lessons about 4-year-olds: the shortness of their attention span, their inability to grasp the concept of "center of gravity"
3) Hanging out with Cameron exhausted Devon and I...

In the end though, apparently, Cameron said he wanted to try skiing again. I guess he also fell asleep hard at like 7:00pm and slept through the entire night. So, even though no skiing took place, I think the day was a success.

The New Yorker on Larsson

Check out a recent article in The New Yorker about the Millenium Trilogy. 

http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/atlarge/2011/01/10/110110crat_atlarge_acocella

It's ostensibly about why the trilogy is popular, but I don't think the article is quite so specific; there's a bunch of interesting discussion of Larsson's background, the editing and production of the novels (in Swedish and translated) and the movies.  When the author does "review" the novels, he claims the novels (or, at least, Dragon Tattoo), which were revised through editing and translation, "should have been revised more."  He calls them "staggeringly boring," violative of "logic and consistency" and "banal."  And, "the dialogue could not be worse."

For some reason, each of these complaints is exactly why I liked the novels.  Am I just tired of the sublime?

Gilead

As you know, I'm not finished.  But, barring some incredible turn of events (or, more appropriately, the occurrence of any even whatsoever), I don't think it's important that I'm not finished.  Unlike any book I've read, at least that I can recall, I don't care what happens in the third I have left to read and I think this is part of the reason that I haven't finished.  I'm not anxious to find out what will happen next or how the story will conclude.  In a certain way, I'd rather that I never finish.  But in another way, I'm not sure I'll ever be finished reading Gilead, even after I read the last page.  I'll just start again, looking forward to discovering what I missed the first time and reconsidering my earlier reactions to the things I didn't miss.

There have been many since, but one of my favorite sentences from the book is: "A man can know his father, or his son, and there might still be nothing between them but loyalty and love and mutual incomprehension."  As both a father and a son, I am struck by both the meaning that sentence has as it relates to my relationship with my dad and the fear that "incomprehension" will be a part of my relationship with Cameron.  I don't know if incomprehension is necessarily a bad thing, and I suppose I may learn, but it certainly isn't a goal.

There are so many other passages that I'd love to discuss - only a few of them relate to fatherhood - and I'd be interested to know whether you guys would like to use this blog as a forum for exploring the meaning of some of them.  I think it might be one way of making the discussion more frequent.  Post a passage and provide initial thoughts in a blog entry and then use the comments function to discuss that particular passage?  And while I think there's a lot of ground to cover with Gilead, we can continue it with future books.

A few other things to get out:

• If you don't read The Daily Dish, a blog on The Atlantic by Andrew Sullivan, I recommend it to both of you.  News, politics, opinion.
• To follow up on some earlier entries, I still haven't seen the third Larsson movie.  I liked the second just as much as the first and I've heard great things about the third.
• Do we all agree on BC in 2013 (without wives) and Brazil in 2014 (with wives)?  Aimee and I would also be interested in an earlier "with wives" trip to somewhere warm.

I know I had more to talk about.  I'll add in the comments.

Hope you're both well.

Underpants = Crime-fighters

Last night I spoke to Max about a funny exchange I heard on a podcast, in which underpants - tighty whitey's - are referred to as 'crime-fighters'. When I heard this, I began to laugh uncontrollably. The last time I laughed that hard, Max and I were in the Columbus Airport after the first time we visited Chris in Columbus. We were sitting, waiting for our airplanes, and one of us mentioned Xander the Butt-Commander. We started thinking about the idea of a butt-commander and we laughed really hard. As I explain below, I think the idea of calling underpants, 'crime-fighters' is just as funny.

Here's the actual exchange from the Podcast:

Kevin Smith: Do you still have crispy bacon strips in your underwear?
Jason Mews (Jay): No, no, because I don't wear tighty whitey's like when I was an f'ing child
Kevin Smith: What, you're not allowed to wear them as an adult; crime-fighters?
Jason Mews: I can't wear white f'ing crime-fighters
Kevin Smith: It sounds like the only reason you won't wear them is because you'll have'em F'ing stained

The absurdity of calling underpants, crime-fighters is exactly as absurd as the idea of a someone becoming a designated butt commander. The more you think about it the funnier it gets. For example:
1) Like we said last night, every time you pull up your underpants it's like you are going to fight crime
2) Standing there in only crime-fighters with you hands on your hips
3) The absurdity of thinking that, for a really long time now, a major staple of super hero outfits is that they wear colored underpants on top of their uniform -- this is a really funny one to me... And, like 99% of all superheros do this. Don't they realize?
4) Crime-fighters, on Crime Fighters, are purely aesthetic. No functionality. What a weird choice of costume...
5) How anytime a kid wants to dress as a superhero, he puts his underpants on over his sweatpants. You know you did it.
6) Do crime fighters wear two pairs of crime-fighters at once?
7) The idea of putting underpants on over pants in general
8) The idea of one of us - dressing as a kid dressing as a superhero - putting our underpants on over jeans or something - imagine if you did this and went to work. I dare you.

I could think about this all day. This morning, in the shower, I started cracking up laughing at all the funny connections between crime-fighters and underpants. Also, it was hysterical when, last night, on the phone, as we discussed this topic, we started to call underpants crime fighters -- we discussed wearing crime-fighters. And now, there is no going back. They just are crime-fighters. I am wearing black ones right now.

I have to stop. Tell me this is funny to you as well...

The Author Who Avoided Pretty

I'm surprised at the popularity of the Stieg Larsson "The Girl..." novels.  Not because they're not good, well written stories.  In fact, I'm surprised at their popularity because they're extremely well written in the sense that he avoids the use of adverbs and adjectives in presenting the narrative.  Larsson tells you, simply and often straight from the character, what's happening and why and doesn't prettify it with unnecessary descriptive words or phrases.  In doing so, he has given the reader more freedom in imagining the Sweden that shaped Lisbeth Salander's life.  And with that freedom, we, the readers, don't prettify the characters or the setting, leaving us with an experience that seems more real (which is also why I like the Swedish "Dragon Tattoo" movie and its casting so much and am already disappointed with the American remake, without even seeing it or the beautiful actors that will cannibalize Larsson's reality).

I think you have to say that the first book of the trilogy tells the best story, if only because it presents the culimination of the history presented in the following two books, even though the second and third move Salander's story forward in time, as well.  Much of the second and third are an explanation for what happened in the first book, in which you have already learned from Larsson's writing as much as you will from the back-story he tells in the second two.  It makes me wonder how it would have worked if he had told Salander's story chronologically, beginning with the history of the Sapo and Salachenko's arrival - presenting the story chronologically might be the only acceptable reason for a Hollywood remake with James Bond and Kate Mara's sister.  I'll only end up seeing the remake(s) to confirm my disdain.

Anyway - I think we need to figure out some time in our book schedule for Chris to read these Larsson novels.  I look forward to thoughts on my commentary from Josh, at least.

Racialism

Are any of ya'll even remotely interested in LeBron's claim that racialism impacted the coverage of "the Decision?"

I actually think he has a valid point, though it seems odd to even mention it after the fact. Any racialism in the coverage of "the Decision" is the same racialism involved in the way all sports are covered. There's no way he shouldn't have seen or anticipated that middle class white people might not react well to the Decision (and the way he decided it).

Here's the question: Was LeBron just casually and honestly answering a reporter's question, or is this something that he is bothered by and failed to properly predict? I think he was just answering a reporter's question. I think the fact that this comment makes headlines is because, ironically, basketball coverage really is pretty racialist.

On the other hand, if he made his comment because he's bothered by this, he's a little crazy.

The Strain

I finished The Strain yesterday, and to be honest, I am not looking forward to The Fall.

I think for a 14 hour round trip to Annapolis, this was a good book on tape. I didn't have to think too much about what was going on in the story, but it kept me engaged. I am not sure that reading The Fall will do it for me, I don't feel invested in any of the characters (I don't care what happens).

Fellow bloggers, please let me know what I am missing (or just tell me to realign my expectations).

Book Review: Love is Mixtape: Life and Loss, One Tape at a Time, Rob Sheffield

I periodically argue with my friends (and co-bloggers) Max and Chris, about whether music can be objectively good, or whether music quality is something entirely subjective. Chris and I tend to argue not so much in favor of the objective goodness of the music we like, but against any notion of objective quality in the music we don’t like. Max, on the other hand, takes a less hard-line approach, and also has, though only in a couple cases, questionable taste in music. Of course, the argument is more entertaining than anything else – no one seems to be swaying anyone else’s opinion or even trying to – but fundamentally the argument raises a good question.

Personally, I hate the song “I Love the Way you Love Me”, by Faith Hill. I think the song is bad because the lyrics demonstrate an insultingly low level of creativity; the rhymes in the ballad don’t rhyme; and though they generally follow a simple, ringtone-annoying tune, the content of the lyrics really don’t make sense.

To wit:

If I could grant

You one wish

I wish you could see the way you kiss.

Explication is not necessary. On any level, is this good?

Rob Sheffield knows a lot about music, he really likes it and he listens to a lot of it. Rob Sheffield grew up on music, professionally critiques music for Rolling Stone magazine, and recalls the music playing during the most significant moments of his life – including the mixtape he was listening to around the time, at 30 or so years old, when his wife died. In Love is a Mixtape, Rob describes this tragedy.

Chuck Klosterman, a guy whose essays I like, wrote a blurb indicting that Love is a Mixtape is the best book about music that he’s ever read. The problem is the book is not really about music at all. Well, I guess it is about music and it isn’t. The book tells Rob’s story – it’s compelling, and interesting, and tragic, and profound in a lot of ways. Having recently gotten married myself, I’m really glad I read it. Among other things, what was probably cathartic for Rob to write around 10 years after the fact helped me gain perspective on the good fortune I possess in my life.

And yet, the songlists for 22 mixtapes drive the story. For each tape, the author lists all the songs on side A, and then all the songs on side B. After, often, the author describes what he liked about these songs and how they ended up on the mixtape. Invariably however, the organization of the mixtape and the reasons for its composition blend into the narrative of the author/Rob’s life.

Though it’s not the main idea of the story, in his book the author re-frames our debate on whether music is objectively good or bad. Regardless of the quality of a given song, Love is a Mixtape shows, like a lot of other forms of art, the ability for music to punctuate moments in your life. Whether a song is good or bad is not as important as what you were doing, or who you were with, or what was happening when you were listening to a given song. The entire flavor of a song can also change by taking the song from its original album, and placing it on a mixtape with other songs similarly swiped and reorganized.

Rob’s story is tragic, but in a lot of ways he is a character with whom I can identify. He was about my age when his wife died, he has about my level of education, and he likes a lot of the same music I like. Apart from his story however, what’s interesting to me are the musical recommendations I took from this book. The author listens to a wide variety of music and puts on his mixtapes everything from 60’s rock-a-billy, to soul, to indie, to top 40. Yet, Love is a Mixtape seldom delves into intricate detail of the music itself – lyrics, meter, tone, rhythm. Rather, from the narrative of a moment in the author’s life and the way he felt about what he was listening to, for reasons entirely personal, I began to wonder if I’d also like that song. The objective goodness or badness of music didn’t persuade me. I was persuaded by the way the song impacted the quality of the author’s experience, and how the author’s experience changed the quality of what he was listening to.

A couple of year’s back I was in Florida for Chris’s wedding. Apart from losing a pretty big round of credit card roulette on Friday night, the weekend was very enjoyable – many old friends were around in a beautiful location to celebrate a close friend getting married. On the way to the wedding I believe, I was sitting in the back seat of a rental car, whose front seat occupants were Max and his wife Aimee. I don’t recall who was driving, but I do recall we were in a great mood, it was a beautiful day, but we couldn’t find a radio station we liked. Part of the reason we couldn’t find a good radio station was because no matter what song came on, I claimed I could come up with songs, on the spot, that were better than whatever was on the radio. After one particularly dreadful song, I came up with a masterpiece: I like ham, I like cheese, put it all together that’s how I feel about you baby.[1] This song was our anthem for the rest of the weekend and Max, Aimee, and I still sing it to this day.

The song I bested puts a smile on my face to this day as well: Eeewww I love the way you, love the way you love me…

[1] The refrain also works as follows: I like ham, I like cheese, put it in a sandwhich that’s how I feel about you baby.

Success it Never Came

Pavement taunted us with “Here” as the final encore, but it was not that kind of night. This was a much louder show than what we saw at pitchfork, this may have to do with being indoors, but the feeling from the band was just different (better). I am not sure who was playing the second percussion kit, but it based on what I have heard of him, it could have been Gary Young. This guy was a maniac, screaming into his microphone, running around the stage, and at one point breaking shit (I think we would agree that this guy does not use shaped skis).

They played a lot of the hits, “Shady Lane”, “Trigger Cut” (one of my favorites), “Frontwards” (another favorite), and the expected songs form Crooked Rain.

I would have liked to seen, “I love Perth”, and “Here” as well as “Zurich is Stained” would have been nice for Jen. But I did think it was cool that they played “Date with Ikea” S.M. did not seem too engaged during it, but Spiral Stairs must have felt good that one of the encores was his song.

I forget what they played after the “Here” tease, but it was a rocker, and a fitting end to a loud night of music. If you are going to see them, bring some earplugs.

One thing that was similar to the Chicago experience, I am exhausted today.

Down the Fall Line

Here we go.  Dropping in...