Who Said You Could Drink That?

I’ve been trying to work off the lazy days of summer by getting my boys up early a couple of mornings each week to run at the local track.  I’d love to tell you they greet those days with enthusiasm, but why lie?

“I’m telling you I had Bolt’s time beat until my hammy gave out…”

I hope to benefit by doing the same things I ask them to do.  That includes doing sprints, which apparently for a middle-ager isn’t too smart.

You see, one morning not too long ago while slightly ahead of Usain Bolt’s record 50 meter split time I felt a strong pull in this little muscle called a hamstring.  Apparently, it’s kind of important for running…and getting around on your feet in general.

I’ve been dealing with it ever since.  As a result, rather than covering the track like a middle-aged Ferrari I’ve been lapping it like a medieval-aged donkey cart.

As luck would have it, fellow hockey dad and proud Canadian, Andrew Clark, presented me with an opportunity to take our troops on an expedition to what he said was “the fountain of youth” that was purported to even have hidden gems at the bottom of it.  Wherever it was, no matter how far, my hamstring and I committed right then and there.

Reporting for duty, Sir!

It was at that point he revealed it was a two-day hike that would cover over 16 miles through a dense forest teeming with bears, Copperhead snakes and plenty of poison ivy.

It was shortly after that I sent word out to our Dads’ Bucket List crew about this wonderful opportunity and got exactly zero takers.

And so, the renegotiation began.

He caved immediately when I suggested that a shorter hike would allow for more time at camp to enjoy gourmet cuisine and plentiful amounts of cold beer.  What can I say, I speak Canadian.

Let the whining begin!

Our intrepid crew of 16 met mid-morning on a dusty, deserted forestry service road near the Tennessee-Georgia border.  Once we dropped supplies and fueled up with lunch, it was off in search of said fountain and gems.

Two minutes in we got our first “how much longer?” inquiry.  Surprisingly it was from a dad, Pilot Robin, who’s apparently used to machines taking him places rather than humping it with his own two feet.

We endured several more queries from him before finally making it to this awesome waterfall that flows into a small pooling area where we could wade into the chilly, invigorating water.

Captain Clark delivered us to the fountain of youth

Led by Clark and his adventurous son, every dad made it along the rock wall and through the rapid falls from one side to the other.  As each dad came out he was greeted with a high-five and a hug.  I’ll be honest, it felt like a rite of passage.  And it was a bonding moment for six guys that, other than me, didn’t really know each other.

It was a great time at the falls.  We stayed just long enough for Cousin Mike to ensure that each kid had contacted Giardia before heading back to camp.

Who’s not having any fun?

Once there, we settled into camp life.  Kids played, explored and listened to Knoxville Pete’s dissertation about why Charmin is a superior alternative to pinecones.

The other dads attended to our specialty areas. That’s to say our buddy, Vince Ho, took over as kung fu master of the grill while the rest of us got lazy by the cooler while needling each other.

We capped a full day with roasting marshmallows and campfire stories.

“Ok, before I start, everybody promise not to tell mom…”

The following morning we packed up camp, hiked back to our cars and dads who were mostly strangers to each other just over 24 hours ago all hugged it out with promises of doing it again soon.  We then hit the open road.

The scorecard on the trip back looked something like this: 3 bee stings, 2 knife wounds, 1 live rat that found its way into a car, 2 cases of trench foot, 1 broken slingshot and 5 hangovers.  But hey, no fatalities!

Once home, my boys and I told my wife all about our weekend.  We had lots of laughs to share with her and she said, “Well, it sounds like it was a great trip.”  Indeed it was.

Kung fu master of the grill

She asked me later, “Not knowing each other, were you worried that all the dads wouldn’t get along?”  Her question gave me pause and I thought about it a fair bit.

It could have been a Lord of the Flies moment.  But it wasn’t at all.

You see, we may not have found the actual fountain of youth or any minerals of value, but during our weekend in the woods we discovered new friendships.  And in life, those are the real hidden gems.

Go. See. Be. Do.

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Admit It. We Know You Did It!

Bo, just be sure to hold on with two hands

Lately, I’ve found myself talking more frequently to my boys about personal accountability.  You know, things like owning their mistakes and taking responsibility for their actions.  I’ll admit, my efforts getting through to them are having mixed results.

Consider this recent exchange while I was driving:

Me:  “Guys, I noticed that my laptop now has a crack in it.  I want to remind you that when you’re carrying one of the computers that you need to be careful and carry it with both hands. “
Boys:  (silence)
Me:  “I don’t know who did it so I’m not blaming anybody, but please be careful.”
Younger Son: “It wasn’t me! When I dropped the computer it didn’t break.”
Me, Wife & Older Son:  (stunned silence from his admission of guilt followed by laughter)
Wife:  (laughing) “Bo!”


His unwitting admission took away any mystery about how it got cracked.  So you see, sometimes admitting what you’ve done really isn’t that tough to do.

Flip it around though, and think about admitting things you haven’t done that you wish you had.  That list!  Wow.  Now, that list of regrets leads to deep introspection and some soul-searching.

Hey hey, looks like we made it!

On a lighter note, I have to admit that until recently I’d never been to a top series NASCAR race.  As a transplant to the deep South nearly 25 years ago, that’s borderline sacrilegious. Well, Southern sinner no more because our most recent outing took our Dads’ Bucket List crew into the belly of the beast – a trip to Talladega Superspeedway.

I rode co-pilot with Special K who took the cover off his baby parked in the garage so we could ride in style.  I can confirm there’s no more fitting way to match the power and energy of a race at Talladega then rolling to the track in the family minivan.

Upon arrival, we had our minions set up to take part in a driver meet ‘n greet with 7-time NASCAR Cup Series champion, Jimmie Johnson.  Once there, he answered a question from each of the roughly 25 kids present.  His answers weren’t canned, but sincere.  He signed autographs and talked about his job.  It was easy to see why he’s a star.

Our crew’s questions couldn’t trip up a pro like Jimmie Johnson

From there, it was on to some tailgating, people watching and then the race itself.  None of it disappointed.  The sound and energy of the cars is something that needs to be experienced.  If there’s a sport that has actual feel, auto racing is it.

Before, during and even after the race we spent our gas money home on a bunch of Jimmie Johnson die-cast cars for the kids.  It wasn’t long before one of them threw out the line, “ok, my johnson versus your johnson.” And the hilarity ensued from there. Fortunately that ongoing punchline provided enough fuel to get us all the way back to Atlanta.

Through the laughs, I thought about how Jimmie told us he got into auto racing.  His words stuck with me.

“I grew up going to races with my dad – the biggest race fan on the planet. We traveled all over California going to tracks. I loved going to the races with him. I turned it into a career.”

Kings for another day

If asked, I’m guessing his father has no regrets about all the time he spent at racetracks with his son.

And so I often wonder, will I have regrets about things I didn’t do with my kids?  At this point, I have no idea. But I’m doing my best to make that list as short as possible.

Go. See. Be. Do.

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Why do they say ‘Heads Up’ when I say ‘Duck!’?

I’m often amazed at how people can see the same thing very differently.  Consider for a minute the difference in perspective between parent and child.

Just the other day I said to my boys, “You guys don’t eat enough fruits and vegetables.”

Not your average band of kale eaters

“Yeah we do. We had french fries for lunch AND dinner,” was their response.

I jabbed back that I meant like leafy green vegetables while they counterpunched with a reminder that their Big Macs had shredded lettuce on it. These point counterpoints usually go the full fifteen rounds with no winner declared.

As you can see, their skills of persuasion while not great are offset by the perseverance of sticking to a point of view.  Hopefully that trait will serve them well in life even if it means having to purchase two seats on a plane because they each weigh 500 pounds.

And so it’s with this theme of perspective that we planned our latest outing of the Dads’ Bucket List crew to attend a minor league hockey game on a night that a portion of ticket sales would go towards funding cancer research.

As we lined up who was going, it was interesting to get perspectives on who was excited about what:

‘Will there be fights?’, ‘How cold will the beer be?’ and ‘You think we’ll see a fight?’ were the common questions from the dads.

‘Can we drive the Zamboni?’, ‘Can I order a Coke every time the ref blows his whistle?’ and ‘Does cotton candy count as a vegetable?’ were common questions from the kids.

Connor McMahon, one tough hombre

As for me, while I was interested in catching up with friends and enjoying the action, I was really looking forward to supporting a young hockey player who was being honored at the game.

Connor McMahon is a 15-year-old goalie who has already been diagnosed and beaten cancer three times.  I know hockey players are tough, but that’s next level stuff.

My wife met Connor and his family several years back and she has chronicled his battle through several stories on TV, one of which was shown at the game.  I’ve also met Connor’s dad, Don, and even did a little coaching with him when our youngest sons played at the same rink a few years back.

As a result, I’ve been taken with Connor’s story.  Maybe it’s because he’s a hockey goalie like I was as a kid.  Maybe it’s how well he’s played a tough hand.  And maybe it’s that he’s somebody’s son and the realization that any family is vulnerable.

Heneghan’s new hairdo. Good look or bad? Depends on your perspective…

I’m glad he’s winning the fight and was happy we were able to marshal a solid group of nearly 40 people to join us to hear his story, support the cause and enjoy the action on the ice.

On the way home with my youngest sound asleep in the back seat, I considered some of the stuff that’s been on my plate along with Connor’s journey and I was reminded of the title of  Richard Carlson’s book, “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff…and it’s all Small Stuff.”

Even the leafy green vegetables.

Go. See. Be. Do.

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“What’s Our Vector, Victor?”

Like any imaginative kid, my boys picture themselves as movie characters.  My youngest with his glasses and guile thinks he can channel the wizardry of Harry Potter.  And when his other side kicks in I could swear he’s Mr. Hyde.

Crew ready for takeoff! "We have clearance, Clarence."

Crew ready for takeoff! “We have clearance, Clarence.”

My oldest summons his inner Avenger and imagines he can shoot arrows like Hawkeye.

Similarly when I was around their ages, Robin Hood was my favorite archer and do-gooder, even if he was an animated fox.

As I grew older, on-screen character portrayals were replaced by an ability to memorize great movie lines.  This skill lives on today with movies I haven’t seen in close to 40 years.  Can you imagine how useful this memorization ability would have been if I’d extended it to something useful, like say, the periodic table?

You see, I may not be able to remember how many proteins are in Boron, but I could tell you the nickname Bill Murray gave Rudy in the 1979 comedy Meatballs.

And so it is that our latest outing of the Dads’ Bucket List crew would rekindle memories  and quotes from the 1980 classic – Airplane.  “Surely you can’t be serious?  I am serious…and don’t call me Shirley.”

Harry Potter at the controls.

Harry Potter at the controls.

Our experience was hosted by Special K, who set up an opportunity for our posse to see what it’s like to pilot a plane.  He planned a day for the kids to get behind the controls of a real flight simulator at Atlanta’s Hartsfield Jackson Airport.

The sim lessons were conducted by ExpressJet pilot Dave Lin, who graciously showed up in full effect early on a Sunday wearing his pilot’s suit.

Each child was able to sit in the copilot’s chair as Dave let him or her take off and land from the airport of their choosing.  The kids flew from locales like Atlanta, Zurich and many places in between.

Despite different personalities and high energy levels, Dave was the steady teacher throughout. As one dad rightly pointed out, “the man has the patience of Job.”  He was incredible and made sure every kid’s experience was uniquely personal.

As I watched one of my boys at the controls, I caught myself thinking, “is this something he could actually do for a career one day?”.  It’s the kind of thought I expect to encounter more and more in the coming years.

Dave Lin and the crew, "the man has the patience of Job"

Dave Lin and the crew, “the man has the patience of Job”

Maybe one of them will become a pilot.  Then again, maybe he’ll settle for being a wizard.

Whatever career they end up choosing, I’ll be sure to grab some popcorn and tune in for their premieres.  Because, who knows, maybe they’ll offer a couple great lines along the way.  And if so, I’m gonna do my best to remember them.

Go. See. Be. Do.

Be sure to keep up with Dads’ Bucket List by “liking” our Facebook page.

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“I Double Dog Dare You”

Peer pressure is one of those behavioral concepts that never seems to have any positives associated with it.

I mean when was the last time a parent encouraged a child to give into the urges of his friends when it was against his better judgment?  “That’s right, Billy, that curfew your mother and I set is only meant as a guideline.  Heck, if you and your friends plan to steal cars tonight, then by all means, don’t bother being home on time.”

Our Crew of Gearheads

Our Crew of Gearheads

But on the other hand, if you’re a glass is half full type, peer pressure is actually a really great way to lead a life that others are sure to talk about.

“Mom, what’s it like to spend eight years in a Turkish prison?”

“I don’t know dear, but that boy Billy who moved back in with his parents down the street just got out of one so maybe you should go ask him.”

There’s no two ways about it, peer pressure can never be good can it?

While you ponder that question, I’m going to give you a little recap of the latest outing of our Dads’ Bucket List crew where we took part in a great American pastime that was born out of bad judgment – Friday night drag racing.

"Oh come on, Dad. Live a little!"

“Oh come on, Dad. Live a little!”

That’s right, we decided to let our kids see the flame of an overheated engine block on the family sedan with 23 months of payments still left on it.

From the moment we arrived at Atlanta Motor Speedway, we could smell that familiar race exhaust and feel the energy of the evening’s activity as cars lined up on the infield to get in their practice runs.  We were all buzzing about what we were going to witness.

But, in order to make this a truly worthy Dads’ Bucket List outing, we needed one of our own to heed the call, get on the starting line and actually race.

He's Going the Distance

He’s Going the Distance

And so, here’s where we come back to this concept of peer pressure.  You see, that afternoon our only driving hopeful, Andrew Ziffer (a.k.a. The Ziff), left a voice message with a bunch of vagaries about being tired, having a headache, feeling bloated and being woefully shy of funds to cover the entry fee.

Without getting into every detail, let’s just say that over the next several hours I beat him down with peer pressure.

And guess what?

At approximately 9:13pm on a warm, breezy night south of Atlanta he put on a helmet, drove his Corvette out onto the track, spun his tires to heat them up, then revved his engine to the red line.  And then?

The Ziff and his #1 Fan!

The Ziff and his #1 Fan!

Then he RACED!

And we high-fived.  We jumped up and down.  We looked at each other and shook our heads with perplexity. “Did he actually do that? Yes! You bet he did.”

So, I ask yet again, peer pressure can never be good can it?

Well, let’s just say The Ziff, his daughter Rachel and all of us there to witness it will not soon forget the night he went drag racing on behalf of our Dads’ Bucket List crew.

Go. See. Be. Do.


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Whaddya Mean You’ve Never Tried Sushi?

I’m often amazed at what becomes popular.

The music of Beck, flat bill ball caps, Bill Maher and texting instead of talking are just a few that come to mind.

For whatever reason, it’s tough to nail down what’s going to strike a chord with people.  All you have to do is look at the graveyard of “the next big thing” (think Zima, Ishtar, and the XFL) to see it’s not so easy to predict.

Mission Control Ready for Launch

Mission Control Ready for Launch

And that’s pretty much the case when planning what’s next for the Dads’ Bucket List crew.  Although, I’ll admit sometimes what gets dads off the sofa really surprises me.

And so it was the case with our latest outing where we intended to get the kiddos outfitted with sunburns and heatstroke as we blasted model rockets way up into the atmosphere on a hot summer day.

We got lots of takers immediately and given that I never did it when I was a kid, I was up for something new.

That's some fine craftsmanship blasting up there!

Good grief that’s some fine craftsmanship blasting up there!

The first order of business after ordering the rockets was to actually build them.  How hard could it be putting together a couple of tubes topped with a rocket cone? Um, let’s just say that on my scale of 1 to 10, it graded out a 12!

The instructions were a hybrid of images inspired by a cubist Picasso and instructions dictated by Yoda. My kids got a lot of earmuff moments over several days of building, disassembly and re-assembly.

On launch day we gathered at the hottest spot we could find on planet earth so we could deliver on our heatstroke agenda item.  Once there, it became launch central as dads and kids set up rockets on pads and began countdowns to launch.

Dads or kids had more fun? Your call

Dads or kids had more fun? You make the call.

It was cool to see how excited everybody got each time one went up.  The kids loved to chase them down as the parachutes deployed and the dads loved seeing their labor wasn’t in vain.

The only problems we encountered were when winds blew some of the rockets into the treetops.  Several dads fought back tears as they saw hours of time drift into the high branches. One dad even drove all the way home only to return with a mishmash recovery tool of two duct taped mop shafts mounted to a golf ball retriever.

Oy vay!  Lucky for the astronauts of Apollo 13 he wasn’t at mission control during their little episode.

We had several people join us at the last minute and lots of onloookers who stopped to check out the action.  Testaments to how popular the idea of spaceflight was with everybody.

We have liftoff!

We have liftoff!

I still contend the simplicity of packing a cooler with your favorite cold beverages on a hot day was the primary selling point.

Whatever it was, we hit a moonshot with this outing.  Even if none of us can explain exactly why.

Go. See. Be. Do.


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“Oh Come On, Admit It. You Use Facebook Too!”

It’s not something I’m necessarily proud of, but I’ll admit I use Bragbook. I mean Facebook.

It’s a gas to stay connected with “friends” from different phases of life. Even those I never actually met.


It’s not my salad, but it’ll have to do

The site always delivers essential information.  Who wouldn’t be interested to see a photo of the salad my 4th grade hockey teammate just ate?

Without Facebook how would I have seen that video of a dog in Japan chase its tail for 3 minutes if not for my old dental hygienist sharing it on her timeline?

Seriously though, I think what I enjoy most are the pictures with friends of my youth posing with their kids. So many times, I find myself shaking my head incredulously muttering, “that guy is responsible for raising another human being?” And the reality is every time I’m in a similar photo somebody in cyberspace shakes his or her head and mutters the same.

It’s likely I’ll be posting some Facebook photos soon because my oldest son and I are off on a little travel adventure.

It came about when I borrowed an idea from my buddy, Phil Cecil, who told me when each of his five kids turned ten he took them on a father-son/daughter trip.  I loved the idea immediately and my wife encouraged me to do the same when my kids turned that age.

Just like an Aussie the little man got right into the mix of some rugby union action

Just like an Aussie the little man got right into the mix of some rugby union action

And so that’s what led me to typing this entry at exactly 2:39AM local time on our first night in Sydney, Australia where I’ve been wide awake for over an hour.

In addition, to experiencing the beautiful city, its people and their culture the trip provides an opportunity to have conversations with my son about topics like decision-making, being authentic and finding your passions. I hope they’ll be talks he’ll remember and maybe even serve him well in life.

The important thing is that I want them to be conversations. Not lectures. We both get more out of them that way.

And so far, our trip to Sydney is off to a great start.  I connected with a college buddy, Mark Cashion, who lives here with his Australian wife, two sons the same ages as mine and their dishlicker (Aussie slang for dog) named Storm.

The Cashions and us. You can always spot the Aussies in a crowd, no?

The Cashions and us. You can always spot the Aussies in a crowd, no?

We’re staying with them our first night.  They’ve got a great thing going, which is awesome to see.  It’s also provided a window into how parenting is done Down Under.  My initial take? It’s the same art no matter where you live – you just do the best you can and regardless you love them unconditionally.

So during our Sydney stay we’ll be experiencing lots of sites, sampling the fare and interacting with the locals. And who knows, if the mood strikes I may get on Facebook to post a picture of my salad or maybe even a short video of an Aussie dishlicker chasing its tail for a minute or two.

Go. See. Be. Do.

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