Very Manly, I Must Say.

Men, hide your women. Women – go into your homes and lock the doors. I am feeling virile.

Let me explain – I’m not necessarily the typical guy that you see pictured on Father’s day cards — I don’t own power tools, I don’t eat red meat (I don’t even own a barbecue), and I feel great indifference towards cars.

All that changed last Friday. My family and I were on the way to my sister-in-law’s house for the Sabbath when, all of a sudden, the car started making noises. At first, I thought it was another car on the road but then realized it was our own Honda Accord that was experiencing a malfunction.

When we got to our destination, I got down and looked under the car. That’s right, I did – damn it! Okay, so I was still in my suit and put a towel under me, but I still had a faint smell of grease on me afterward.

The next night, along with my brother-in-law, nephew, and I jacked up the car and took a look underneath. There was not much we could do. However,I had  to fix the car so that we could get home safely. So, I did. My fix — which included duct tape, McGyver-style — lasted until about two minutes into the drive home.

The next morning we were supposed to go to a pool party at my brother’s house, several hours away. After some research (thanks to my wife and Google) we determined that the culprit was the heat shield, and that it could be safely removed. So, once again I jacked up the car (on my own, thank you very much) and — with the proper tools — I removed the part.

I saved the day. My family and I were able to go on our road trip. Pretty manly, I’d say.

But wait, there’s more.

This past week, I got a power tool for father’s day. I really wanted it too. I now am the proud owner of a weed whacker. I look forward to using it and whacking some weeds. They’ll know whose boss after I’m done.

Then, there was yesterday. My neighbor and I rented a power washer. There was no stopping me. I cranked that sucker up so that the dirt and mold that had invaded the siding of my house didn’t stand a chance. No sir, not on my watch they didn’t. I pushed into bushes and climbed the ladder all in the name of cleansing my home. I even washed the car and cleaned up the oils that formed on the side walk. This is my castle, damn it.

I insisted my boys take a turn using the power washer despite their fear of the noise it was making and the vibration. After all, one day they will be men too, and I must prepare them.

So, how do I top off this manly feeling? I was thinking of grilling up a steak and watching Gladiator. Unga Bunga!

No Need to Yell

We all have different ways of handling anger.  At least part of the way we handle our anger is dependent upon how we are feeling at the moment. I am generally a calm person. However, if I am in an annoyed – kids kept me up, train was late, students were rude – mood, I can be cranky.

The other day, my children and I were in a parking lot as my older son had just completed a Karate lesson. The boys and I walked back to the parking lot, got in the car, and began sorting out snacks (they are ravenous at that hour). As they were finally content, I checked the mirrors and readied to back up and go home. All of a sudden, someone started banging on the front passenger door. “What the heck?” I wondered to myself. I looked up and saw an older gentlemen flailing his arms. He along with his wife were clearly angry at something. He was blabbering on in what I perceived to be Russian (there is a large Russian population in my town). In a moment, I realized he was not pontificating about the pros and cons of another Putin presidency but instead there was a scratch on his car. Clearly, he felt that the scratch was caused by my or my children’s negligence.

While I was not sure that my boys or I had caused the scratch, I apologized. He mimicked, “Sorry, sorry.” What did this man want? I asked him and at some point he told me to pull my car up. What? There was a brick wall in front of us and besides, what was the point of that request? I refused. He continued yelling and went and stood behind my car. Was he going to scratch up my car with his key, hold me there? I had no idea. I asked him, “What are you doing?” After a minute or so, he moved away. As I left, I apologized again and he was still yelling.

On the ride home, I asked the children if they remembered hitting the door by accident. While they said no, I reminded them to be very careful when getting out of the car. Even if they had hit the car, by that point, they probably would have been afraid to admit it. I tried to explain that the man was acting crazy because he was upset. When we are upset, we do not act reasonable. If you want something, you have to talk in a reasonable manner. My younger son brought up the incident throughout the rest of the day; as we were reading together at night, he said once more, “You shouldn’t yell, right daddy? You shouldn’t act crazy.” “Yes, that’s right,” I assured him. “We get angry but yelling does not accomplish anything.” Ironically, yelling makes the words louder but not more clear.

We try and teach our children the right way to handle things. Sometimes, those messages come through more clearly than others.