kwundrow

Just My Cup of Tea

Posted on June 3, 2022 by kwundrow

I returned last week from my fortieth Indy 500 weekend. My daughters and I went down on Friday evening and joined a group of twenty plus people who get together once a year to attend the Greatest Spectacle in Motor Racing. We make a weekend out of the adventure: golf on Saturday, nice dinner out in an accommodating restaurant that has to be able to handle our rather raucous group, and of course there’s the race. We load our bus early Sunday morning, head south to the track and after sufficient tailgating, we enter the track. We are greeted by four-hundred thousand of our race friends and settle in to watch thirty-three cars, aka rockets, average 225 mph as they circle the two and a half mile oval for two-hundred laps.

When I explain how I spent my Memorial Day weekend, I get one of two responses. The first, “that sounds incredible.” The second response, much more forcible, “I just don’t get it, that sounds really boring.” Now I am not about to tell people they are not entitled to their opinions, but a little consideration might be in order. We are all unique and our tastes in entertainment are no different.

If you told me you spent the weekend pitching a tent and then sleeping on the ground as critters scampered about, inches away, separated from you and your person by a thin piece of nylon, I might ask you why. Hotels have such nice amenities and a free buffet breakfast. Or say you spent your one free evening at the theater watching ballet or Shakespeare. Sorry, not my cup of tea. Sci Fi flick on the big screen, now that I’d spend my evening on.

I am a speed junkie with a hunger for adventure. When it comes to being with people, the bigger the crowd the better, and again I can hear the judgement as you are reading this. I have a huge case of FOMO (fear of missing out) and love being part of a party. Put that all together and how could I resist cars going so fast you can barely see them as they pass all the while watching it with a record setting crowd. Throw in the party atmosphere, reunion with friends, and just the shear size and scope of the adventure and, well, the Indy 500 is my cup of tea.

Let’s agree to disagree. You go camping and I won’t question your love of sleeping on the ground and cooking your breakfast over a smokey campfire as long as you let me love a seemingly boring weekend at the races. After all, one man’s cup of whatever just may be another man’s cup of tea.

When is Enough, Enough?

Posted on May 26, 2022 by kwundrow

I want two things to be clear. First, I waited three days to write this so that some of the shock and anger I am feeling could at least be focused. Second, I grew up in a family where my sister and father were hunters. I later married into a family where everyone hunts. This is not a blog about why every gun should be removed. There are guns that are appropriate for hunting. Assault rifles are not. Especially assault rifles in the hands of teens, in the hands of people who would do evil, in the hands of an unbalanced individual. Assault rifles should be restricted to trained law enforcement, the military, and other protective service individuals.

Three days ago the unthinkable happened again. This time it was in an elementary school. Nineteen children, innocent children with families that loved them, with the potential for bright futures in front of them, who were dropped off at school never to come home again. We can focus on the action of one seriously unbalanced individual or we can look at the ease with which he obtained his weapon of choice along with an inexcusable amount of ammunition. We can also focus on the gun, without which we wouldn’t be having this dialogue. We would be blissfully ignoring the warning signs once again, all the while believing that the thoughts and prayers of our politicians would be the solution to our pandemic of gun violence.

I am not naïve. I know that criminals will find the guns. I know that criminals will break the laws. That is what makes them criminals. But does that justify us doing nothing? Does that allow politicians to trot out the second amendment every time some responsible law maker tries to pass meaningful, responsible legislation to at least make it harder to get the guns? If we are hiding behind the second amendment, let’s consider what the founding fathers were really trying to define. Is a teen with an assault rifle a standing militia? I am tired of the politicians who immediately claim that gun legislation implies that we are taking all the guns or that we are going after the responsible gun owner who legally owns and uses a gun for sport of hunting. We the people are simply asking that we make sure that a gun owner goes through the proper background check, that they are asked to wait a couple of days to get that legally obtained gun, that assault rifles, high capacity ammunition magazines, that bump stocks and ghost guns are banned from ownership by the general public. Why is that so difficult? Why is that so threatening?

When is enough enough? I cannot accept that the solution to school shootings is to arm teachers, turn schools into armed bunkers, to train students how to fend off a shooter or to have children practice shooter drills in their schools. Aren’t we admitting that it is easier to lay the responsibility on the victim than to limit the ability of the shooter to make them victims. Thoughts and prayers are a nice gesture, but if not followed up with action, they are at best an act of empathy but at worst a cover for the cowardice by those that can to do something, but choose to do nothing.

A responsible congress would have, should have, already come together at the very least to talk about what could be done or at best, would already be voting on legislation to start the solution moving forward. But of course that hasn’t happened. We are told that to ask for legislation is politicizing the situation. That our second amendment rights are being taken away. That we don’t understand the problem. This is what I understand, you were elected to pass laws that would keep us safe, that you were elected to tackle the problems even if you think they are complicated, that you were elected to serve, not to spend your time trying to figure out how to keep yourself in office. If you want to stay in office, then serve, and if the solution takes compromise, then sit down together and talk. Stop playing the party line, stop serving the NRA and start serving the people who elected you.

I will end this with a challenge. I have already donated to an organization that will fight for responsible gun legislation, education, and support for the survivors and families of loved ones lost to gun violence. That is only a start. I will also vote and I will cast that vote for politicians who can answer this simple question correctly, “Will you vote for responsible gun legislation?” Yes or no. No double speak, no skirting the issue. Just yes or no.

Will you join me? Actions do speak louder than words. We need to act and we need to ask others to take action as well, especially our elected leaders who we entrusted with the power to do something about it. After all, enough is enough!

We Wouldn’t be Fathers Without Mothers

Posted on May 8, 2022 by kwundrow

As my wife would say, everything’s not about you. And making sure we don’t miss the point, it is Mother’s Day today. Father’s, your day is coming. Today is mother’s day and I will be the first to tell you how much you are appreciated. You are often the glue that holds the family together. You are the car pool driver, the nurse, the comforter, and the support network your children need. And you hold one other very important role, you are the sole reason we are fathers.

Okay fathers, we may think we are the important person in the family, but our role doesn’t exist without mothers. Without mothers, we would have no to do lists to get done. There would be no one in the passenger seat to tell me all the driving mistakes and laws I am breaking. There would be no one to tell me to get directions. No one to repeat all the directions my navigator is already telling me, by the way, thank you whoever that alluring voice is in my navigator. There would be no one to be the person I always told my child to go ask for permission. No one to remind me it’s not all about me.

Without mother’s, or even surrogate mothers, we would never get to be fathers. I would never get to hold the child she gave me in labor, that she carried for nine months, that she nurtured long before I even met them. I would never have gotten to play catch with, to sing Karaoke with, to yell support to her as I watched from the bleachers, or to put my arm around her as she sobbed after a rejection or just a bad game, all the while telling her life wasn’t always going to be fair. To answer the hard questions and sometimes the really tough ones, or just to worry about her on every date and every new boyfriend.

Today is a day to honor mothers. If you needed another reason to appreciate her, I hope this message gave you one. You just wouldn’t be a father if not for a mother.

Too Much of a Good Thing?

Posted on April 5, 2022 by kwundrow

Can you really have too much of a good thing. Let’s take ice cream. I will unashamedly admit that on more than one occasion I have literally licked the bottom of the bowl and it may not have even been mine.

For the past three weeks, we have been at a condo we rented on the gulf in Florida. Every day has been sunny with temps in the 80’s. When we weren’t basking in the pool just outside of our lanai, we were at the beach, with our toes in the water. And every evening, ah, the sunsets.

Sunsets on the ocean are spectacular. Weather permitting, and it was, the sun arcs toward the water’s edge in a blazing orb that gradually deepens in color from bright white to blazing yellow and eventually to deepening shades of orange. As the outer rim touches the ocean’s edge, the march below the waves accelerates, or so it seems, and in a matter of minutes, its gone. As the last sliver of the sun disappears, the skies light up in an explosion of deep oranges and soft reds, but not before this halo of light seems to erupt into the dusk sky. The strange thing is that no two sunsets are ever exactly the same and no matter how many photos you have snapped, you find yourself taking one more.

As I said, we were here for three weeks. Our first week was shared with my daughter, her husband and our two grandchildren. To say the energy of two young grandchildren kept us busy would be an understatement. Daily trips down to the surf, hours of swimming in the complex’s pool and long walks down the beach shelling, the sport of finding the best seashells, filled our days from dawn to the evening sunset. Sadly, they had to go home at the end of that first week leaving my wife I to keep each other entertained. Near the end of week two and missing our grandchildren, my wife asked the question, was three weeks too long? Were we in fact ready to go home? As the question hung there and the sun began its descent to the ocean, the answer was obvious. Were we in a hurry to return home where spring was waging a losing battle to push away winter? Where it had snowed the day before and temps still hovered near freezing?

Let’s not be hasty. We deserve a few more days of falling asleep to the sounds of the surf rolling onto the beach. To walk with sand tickling our toes. To just gaze out at the ocean as sail boats go by first following the wind and then alternately tacking against it. To catch a few more amazing sunsets. And there you have it, you really can’t get too much of a good thing.

I’ll have to wrap this up. The sun is dipping toward the ocean and I can hear the mellow sounds of the conch shells beckoning me out to watch.

Not Yet !

Posted on March 11, 2022 by kwundrow

What is it about packing that makes my blood run cold? We are set to leave for our next vacation Sunday morning, just two days from now. Truthfully, I should currently be packing, but I have chosen to write about why I’m not packing instead. My wife and travel mate, Deb, was packed a full two weeks ago, but I just can’t seem to start. It’s not that I am not looking forward to the trip, I am in fact really excited to get away. But none the nonetheless, my habit of packing procrastination is on high alert, sort of def con 3.

I have created an entire handbook full of reasons for not packing ahead of time. What if before we leave, I need one of the pieces of clothing I packed? What will the weather be where we are going? God knows you can’t trust a forecast more than a day out. What am I going to do with those last-minute items? I would have to unpack just to get them in the ideal position within my suitcase. And what if TSA makes a new requirement I will have to pass? My list is limitless and the bottom line is that there is always tomorrow.

My m. o. has always been to pack about one hour before we leave. Much to my wife’s chagrin, she has been repeatedly unsuccessful in trying to change me. Even so, she has never had to leave without me, close calls a few times, but I’ve always come through. There was that one time. We had a 6:00 am flight to catch which meant pickup by our Uber driver at 4:00 am. My wife likes to have a full hour getting ready in the morning, so our wake-up alarm was set for 2:45 am. Plenty of time for me to dress AND to pack. Everything should have worked except for one tiny hitch; daylight savings time began that morning. The result, a record setting run for both of us. My wife showered and dressed while I literally threw everything into my suitcase all in 15 minutes. This experience should have been a wakeup call, no pun intended, but instead, became my new benchmark.

The art of packing is just that, an art. Some, like my wife, view it as a planning activity. Others a means of extending their vacation anticipation period. I view it as a track meet. Sort of a 100-yard dash at most. It’s not just a question of whether I can finish the race, but how fast can I do it. I have been looking forward to this trip ever since we made those first plans, but the packing, that’s another thing.

Fear not. We leave at 7:00 am Sunday morning, plenty of time to pack that suitcase. Though I will surely be seeing the sun rise that morning, I promised Deb, my suitcase will be in the car by the deadline. Am I packed? ……………. Not yet.

I Didn’t Do Anything

Posted on March 6, 2022 by kwundrow

I lead a comfortable life. I am able to be charitable, to travel freely, and to not struggle with the necessities of life. I believe that I have been successful in work and life. Recently, I tried to look back on the things that I have accomplished and came to the realization that there wasn’t a single one that I could identify as something I did alone. That the accomplishment was mine and mine alone. What I actually came to realize was that those things were always accomplished through the combined efforts of the people I have surrounded myself with.

Throughout my life I have always had people I could lean on for support. When I was young, it was coaches, teachers, and my dad. As I aged and entered the workforce, my support network were co-workers more experienced than me, and mentors so willing to lend advice. Multiple co-teachers were there to assist in the projects I was developing, to give advice and at time to be my promotors. In my years as a teacher, I had invaluable teaching assistants to ease the burden of my often overloaded classroom. When I entered the private sector, I had experienced co-workers who shared their knowledge and skill with me while assisting in the plans I was developing for my clients. At work I was surrounded by an incredible support staff who took my ideas and strategies and did the paperwork to make them working plans. And in my personal life, I had my partner in marriage to do the social and family planning that kept me on track and motivated. As she would tell you, without her it is doubtful that I would have ever showed up anywhere on time or possibly not at all.

My point is that what we accomplish in life is always a collaborative effort. We are never alone if we know where to look. That said, it is so important for us to acknowledge those people in life who are part of our team. I ask people to avoid using the word “just” when they describe what they do. Who was the most important person in a successful, possibly life saving, surgery? Was it the surgeon, or was it the nurse who prepped the patient? Or, was it the person who collected the garbage outside of the surgeon’s home so that he could concentrate on the surgery and not whether the trash was picked up? I would contend that each person involved at any level in the process, shares in the success of the outcome.

I am the cumulative result of all of the people in my life who shared in the process that has led to my successes. Hopefully at least a few of them are reading this and know that they are appreciated and loved for the impact they have had on my life and the things we have done, together. I didn’t do anything, alone.

Let Them Soar

Posted on February 13, 2022 by kwundrow

Watching the Olympics this past week, I couldn’t help but be drawn in by the athletes’ personal stories. One in particular stuck with me. The athlete was an alpine skier and as the story went, his parents had him on his first set of skis before he could walk. They of course had been professional skiers and wanted their son to have every chance to become one as well.

It is said we live vicariously through our children. In some cases this means having them grow up just like us, same goals, same passions. In some cases, we want them to succeed where we failed. In either case, the parent is projecting their expectations unto the child. Don’t misread this, I will be the first to tell you that without expectations, their is no roadmap to success. Expectations create our goals. The question is whose expectations should they be?

When we realize we are about to have a child, we hope for three very basic things. We hope that our child will be born with ten toes and ten fingers, meaning healthy. Good health will give them that head start. The second hope is that they will grow up to be independent, free thinking individuals, able to make the important life decisions they will inevitably face. Our third hope is that they will be successful, and here the seed of expectations is planted. Every parent describes success in their terms. One parent will hope that their child will some day become President of the United States, another the next Warren Buffet, yet another a professional athlete, maybe even an Olympian. Whether it is the arts, athletics, business, or politics, we can’t help but start to set expectations. The problem here is that these expectations are ours when they need to be theirs.

I am as guilty as the next person. The minute my daughter picked up a golf club,

I expected to one day see her in the US Open. The second my youngest daughter grabbed a microphone, I just knew she would be the next Shania Twain. I couldn’t even wait to buy her that first guitar. It is next to impossible to not set these expectations for our children. After all, it is born out of our love for them. But if we truly love them, is it living up to our expectations that matters.

Let’s go back to my Olympians. I don’t believe that when that toddler was set upon his first set of skis that he expected to be one day screaming down a mountain in China seeking a gold medal. I suspect that somewhere along the way, it might have become a dream of his. Somewhere that dream developed into a dedication to improving his skills as a skier. Through hard work and determination, his dream became an expectation. But that expectation was the product of a dream and it was his expectation. He earned the right to that expectation.

As parents we need to understand the difference between expectation and a dream. Our expectations for our children, if improperly placed may just be the worst thing we can do for them. We need to let them discover their passions independently and then we need to let them dream. Let their dreams become their expectations. Only then will we get to watch them have the success we had hoped for.

We have a role in our child’s future, and that role is to be their supporter, their nurturer, their biggest fan. If we let them dream their dreams, if we let them soar, who knows, they just may become an Olympian.

The Life of Riley

Posted on February 12, 2022 by kwundrow

Ah retirement, or at least the concept of it. Now a days no one really retires. We just become a different kind of busy. I chose volunteering, someone else might pick a part time job, which by the way is what a lot of volunteering turns into these days. It started out as promising to show up a few days a week, but as they figured out how smart all that experience seem to make you coupled with an insane work ethic, and well, there you have it. “I’m sort of retired” becomes your standard reply to “What are you doing these days?”

For me, I was always only sort of retired. I jumped into volunteering for a nonprofit almost immediately after turning in my retirement notice. That was coupled with my seeming inability to walk away from a seasonal teaching job that had consumed the last twenty years of my career and has now morphed into it’s fifth last year of doing it. I am trying to determine if they are that desperate or I am that good, pretty sure it’s desperation. Either way, I have been cajoled into contracting a year at a time for the last five years. But there is light at the end of the tunnel, a very long tunnel. I am slowing down and finding other things to occupy my time. I am in short heading towards the “actually, pretty much, retired” phase.

So what do retired people really do with all that time. The answer is a little of this and a little of that. When truly enjoying the art of retirement, you can actually answer the question “What are you doing today?” with “Nothing.” If reminded that you did that yesterday, just reply “But I wasn’t finished.” On those days when all I have scheduled is nothing, my day starts when I wake up. Follow that up with a couple slow savored cups of coffee, a perusing of the newspaper, including a few puzzles, and then a discussion about what’s for lunch while discussing what’s for dinner.

Alright, I exaggerate. Retirement, other than our Covid-19 quarantine period when the previous statement was pretty accurate, HAS been the life of Riley. I have traveled, albeit for the most part by car, to several of my bucket list destinations. (for reference see a few of my blogs, “The Call of the Road”, “Steel City”, “We’ve Reached Atlanta”) I even got out west for a ski trip with several friends half my age, I think they felt a need for adult supervision and truthfully, their selection might have been poorly thought out. The body may be old but someone needs to explain that to my head and heart.

I think that the best part of retirement has to be the lack of a hard and fast time frame. You get to go to bed when you want to and if you feel like it, get up in time for sunrise or sleep in if you don’t. When traveling, unless you have those required boarding times hanging over your head, you can take your time. You can even stay a few days longer or just stop to visit old friends along the way. You will get home when you are ready to be home. The freedom of not having to look at your watch to be sure you are where you have to be when you need to be, is freeing. My watch is used more to see how many steps I got in than to tell me the time of day. My activity choices now revolve around whether it’s light outside or dark.

Case in point. Today is one of those glorious nothing on my schedule days. I have found time to savor my coffee, listen to some music, do a little fiction reading, get my Valentine’s obligation done, and even write this piece. My only questionable act so far, I reserve the right for one or two more, was to take a walk around the block. Why is that questionable? It is five degrees outside and that might be tolerable for a polar bear, but there’s also the infamous windchill making it feel like seven below. I am going to tell you that the difference is negligible since five degrees is cold, period. But, it was necessary, or so says my doctor who has prescribed it. Did she know it was going to be this cold and why wasn’t she out walking with me? I guess she was hanging out at the emergency room waiting for them to bring me in frozen. But the good news is that this too shall pass. A week from today, my wife and I will be headed to much warmer climes where we will replace today’s ice under our feet with white sand and surf. I think I can already feel it oozing up between my toes.

Ah, the Life of Riley.

If Only I Were a Car

Posted on January 18, 2022 by kwundrow

As a guy, I have always been prone to getting attached to my cars. Before you question that statement, just consider that men approach cars so differently than women. We give them feminine names. We care for them as if they were are pets. We even speak of them in sexual connotations, just don’t ask me to get into specifics on that one. Men know what I mean. But even with all this said, I have always espoused to a set belief when it came to cars. I would date my car for two to three years, five years tops if I was really in love with her, and then I would trade her in for a slightly newer model with fewer miles and that shiny sexier frame and then start up a new love affair.

If only I were a car. If that were true, I could trade myself in for a newer model with a few less years on it, hell, maybe a lot fewer years on it. As I approach my next birthday, a birthday as yet not named, my body is showing signs of the well driven years I have put on her. Oh, she still tries to have that new car smell and sure, she shines up real nice when we are going out on the town, but truth be told, she lacks some of that get up and go she had when I first started driving her. She’s a little slower out of the gate in the morning and her tires are looking worn. Don’t get me wrong, I suspect she still has some good years left in her, but you know, if only I could trade her in.

When I posed this idea to my wife, she immediately wanted to know how many models I was planning on stepping up and just how low a number of years was I considering? I assured her I was intending to be reasonable, maybe a couple of model years up and oh maybe somewhere between thirty-five to forty years on her. Not too surprisingly, after visualizing the new me, she was all in.

Now, if only I were a car,

	collectordevotedly79… on Grownup Questions
	kwundrow on My Cancer Journey: Finally,…
	kwundrow on My Cancer Journey: Finally,…
	sigler6973 on My Cancer Journey: Finally,…
	Bruce Coulter on My Cancer Journey: Finally,…

kenisms

Wanderings of my mind.

Author: kwundrow

Too Much of a Good Thing?

Not Yet !

The Life of Riley

If Only I Were a Car

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: