The Weekend Eudemon

A much abbreviated Weekend Eudemon this week. My wife and I are dealing with dueling croup banjoes. Max (turned two on August 1) and Tess (seven months) both have it. One cries, gets the other going, the first cries more. There's no cure for croup. You just open windows and run humidifiers and, when things get real bad with the hoarse and tortured crying, stick your head in the oven and scream.

This follows, fortunately, a pleasant night at the drinking club with my parents. The Fall color is cresting in southern Michigan, so it was a nice evening to sit between two inland lakes and drink from tall pilsners.

We left Alex (12) in charge of the children (less Tess). It's nice to feel the slow, though limited, liberation. We love our home and the fourteen little legs that run around it, but it's nice to get out without drawing up a flowchart for the evening: "Call babysitter A; arrange pick-up time. If A isn't available, call . . . Have dinner ready before babysitter arrives . . .". I'm actually getting moments lately to talk with my wife. Her name is "Marie." I remembered it quickly after she reminded me.

Things are going well at TDE. Visitors are fairly static--averaging in the low 500s every day. My stat software doesn't tell me how many of those are repeat visitors during the day, but if a person logs on twice in quick succession, it counts as only one visit.

Please spread the news about TDE by forwarding the URL to friends and family.

May an Indian summer warm your path this coming week.

Malcolm's Messages (What's this?)
Chapter 4: Malcolm and the Children (continued)

But then Malcolm's face lightened and he addressed the first little girl in a softer tone.

"So, your daddy is an accountant, a daddy, and a husband. What else does he do?"

"He plays golf!" the little girl exclaimed.

"Ah, the Stick Game. I like the Stick Game. Does he play much?"

"A lot," the girl said.

And Malcolm was sad, but then the girl continued.

"I have two older brothers, and he takes them with him. I'm too little, but when I get bigger, he said he'd take me, too."

"Ah," Malcolm said, laughing. "Perfect. You see the Stick Game ties into being a daddy, which connects to being a good husband, and all of them–in a way your eyes cannot see–make him a better accountant. So, he's an accountant, a husband, a daddy, and a golfer. And I bet he is good at all of them."

The little girl nodded with a smile.

"I once knew a daddy who loved to read, but his sons loved sports. The daddy could not play sports because he was partly blind. He did not play with his sons much and that seemed sad. But he was always there, reading, while they played, sometimes watching the best he could. And when his sons came to him, he would always put his book down to talk with them. And sometimes they would ask him about his books, and he would offer to read to them. Sometimes he showed them good books and they would read them, and then they would talk about the books. And his sons continued to love sports, but they eventually learned to love reading even more. More important, they learned to love good books, which is something rare and precious these days."

Here Malcolm turned away from the crowd, for the water of gratitude and memory filled his eyes. He stood for a few moments, staring at the sky. He then quickly returned to the assembly.

"The thing is, that daddy was able to tie his good reading into being a good daddy. He didn't cater to sons' obsession with sports, but neither did he hinder it. He merely offered them a better alternative and as a result, the boys grew to love reading more than they loved sports.

"For here's the thing, Trophies: Everyone has lots of jobs. This girl's daddy is an accountant, a husband, a daddy, and a golfer. I bet he's other things, too. Like maybe a lawn keeper or something like that.

"And I bet this girl's daddy worked hard to become an accountant. In fact, I bet he worked hard just trying to figure out whether he should be an accountant. When he went to the learning place, he probably didn't know what he wanted to do for a career, but he agonized over it and finally decided to be an accountant.

"I bet he did the same thing when trying to decide whether to marry her mommy. That's a hard thing to do, asking someone to marry you.

"He probably thought hard about having children, too, though that's something that naturally comes with getting married, so he kind of made that decision when he asked his wife to marry him," Malcolm said jokingly.

"But what of the Stick Game? Did he agonize over that? Probably not. It's probably something he fell into, something he just decided to try.

"And that is sometimes a problem. You see, we need to make careful choices in our lives, and I fear too many people choose carefully for the first twenty or thirty years of their lives–deciding on where to learn, what to study, what paying job to get, what person to marry–then they stop questioning what is best. And that is a sad thing. For the first jobs–husband, daddy, accountant–are merely the framework. They are important, but they are not all there is to life. The framework should be filled out with other good things, and in order to know what is truly good, you must know about the Great Things and be ready for them when they come to you. By excessively filling the framework with the Stick Game and other superficial things, too many adults are unable to recognize the Great Things."

Here Malcolm wanted to warn the children about double agents and the Wicked Gnome who shoots the charioteer, but he did not want to scare them, so he finished by merely saying, "Choosing any job, no matter at what level of your life, is not as easy as flushing your toilet."

And the children laughed.