I hate politics...

                          We were watching this mornings news, before the bus came to transport my two eldest McMonkeys to the primate cages of our local scholastic zoo, and the pundits were talking about refugees and places like Belgium and that New Year's Eve fiasco, earlier this year. 

                                                Soon, questions came my way.

                            It was kind of nice speaking with people that have no preconceived notions or prejudices on political issues, but equally difficult to express the depth of sadness I feel in realizing that the only ones who seem to have that now, are pre adolescent kids...

                               I struggle to present facts to my children like the real, old school journalists used to do.

                                                       "Just the facts, ma'am..."

                                                       Not tainted by my prejudices...

                                                       

                                                         Oh, how I hate politics.

                 

                                     I have my views. They are the views of a fifty something -year old blue collar white male, raised in a conservative Catholic, two parent household, in upstate New York.

                                      They have been shaped by many hard lessons of rebellion, defeat and the consequences thereof. Some were tempered in the military and others in back alleys...

                                 Most have been compared and questioned, set beside my Christian Faith, which is my end all- yardstick of right and wrong...

                                                 So of course, I am  extremely biased...

                                    Sheepishly, I find myself admitting that I don't know what side of this earthly election I should stand on. I compare what I see and hear on all of the cable channels and find every single one of them lacking...

                                      Do I vote for someone that is anti abortion, who coldly turns away starving and victimized children? Do I align myself with those who would help the poor, but may turn out to be terrible stewards of our countries assets? Someone who supports on demand abortion?

                                Or someone politically qualified, but having no respect or trust from the military they would command?

                                      How does a Christian approach such a debacle?

                               Do we climb into our pristine bubbles and ignore our civic responsibility, abstaining from the entire circus? 

                                                                    Can we?

                                                             Can we, please???

                                                                I'm thinking not...

                                               What I find myself looking for in all of these candidates, is the kind of humility that would leave them open to hearing a whispering God.

                                      I'm not looking for strength or unbridled arrogance; not back room savvy or a warriors might. All I am looking for is a person that may have a smidgen of doubt about the illusion of their own infallibility...

                                       Still teachable, I think are the words I'm looking for...     

                                           Maybe I'm just looking for the one with the best heart. The one who empathizes and advocates for the people that Jesus did, when He walked this little round ball...

                                       I'm guessing that is pretty naive, in a world like this; years ago, I would have laughed at anyone using such considerations. Today, not so much...

                                            I want to elect somebody reachable.

                          Not by me or by lobbyists. Not even by our populaces culture; simply reachable to an ego crushing Gods nudges and gentle direction...

                                          That's the guy ( or gal ) that I'm looking for...

                                                               I hate politics.

                                                            It gives me no hope. 

                         People though, reachable people, help me to think that maybe we can listen...

                                             Listening precedes understanding.

                                              Understanding precedes Wisdom.

                                                                  Wisdom...

                                       Let's just say this country can surely use that...

                                              

A Grand Dads View...

                                          Had a few interesting moments recently...

                            My middle McMonkey, our little lawyer, came home with a baby to care for. 

                                Not a real baby mind you; but a plastic computerized simulation, of sorts. It cried at different moments and needed to have its diaper changed or be fed or be burped; the most gratifying part of this whole experiment was the fact that my middle bub had to try all three of these responses to get this " baby" to stop screaming, and often, it did not respond logically...

                                                       Much like a real baby.

                                         Whithin moments of the initial cry, Stephen was loudly panicking, asking for help in changing a diaper. I laughed as I repressed the first time I ever had to care for an infant alone, and chose not to remember the complete terror that engulfed me as that door shut and I was left irrevocably and singly responsible for a few hours, with my very own child...

                                             It turns out, as he tersely explained, that I could not assist him, even if I had wanted to. The school had strapped an RFID chipped tamper resistant bracelet on my bubs wrist to insure HE was the only person the baby would respond to...

                                      Quickly he learned to leave the " onesie" unsnapped for easy access of diaper changes. Bent over the carrier and holding a fake bottle, he complained in excessive decibels about how long it took to feed this infant.

         " Did I really take this long to eat ?!? It's been over three minutes"!!!

                              My favorite part was when he was trying to change a diaper and couldn't get the Velcro to stick, while trying get the exact time written down on his log sheet, along with the reason for crying and how he got the baby to stop, all while this plastic doll was wailing...

                                          Baby quiet, logs filled, he went onto his iPad.

                              Moments later the baby was hungry and he tried feeding it with one hand and playing Madden 25 with the other. Eventually he managed to finagle a precarious setup without even the use of duct tape, supporting the bottle on the dolls tummy, so he would not need to handle it himself. 

                                For one instant, he had that look of a proud dad...

                                                 Been there, done that.

                              

                            Baby quiet for another hour and a half, Stephen began to get spoiled.

                    Soon he was changing and feeding, burping and feeding this silicon minded, baby formed scholastic lesson again...

                          " I hate how it makes that sound when it eats. It drives me crazy"...

                                          I'm thinking " It's eating, not crying and programmed to sleep for over an hour. That is parent heaven"

                                                    But I didn't say that...

                                                          Yes I did...

                    

                       My Wonderful Wife and I eerily reminisced about those long past continuous and successive nights of nearly constant colicky crying, and being completely unable to stop the cause, or even console our cantankerous bundle of discontent. We looked into each other's eyes and saw the relief that those days are gone and done, and that somehow, together we all made it thru...

                       As we turned our heads back towards present day parenting, for one brief moment, we caught sight of each other's eyes again. It was nearly imperceptible , but it was there, in both of us....

                                    An inexplicable and strange sadness of missing it...

                                Somewhere between The Big Bang Theory and NCIS, my son did something out of character. He picked up the baby, cradled it in his arms and fed it like a regular person would...

          He ignored the programmed feeding sounds and for twenty or thirty minutes looked like any dad might, sitting in a recliner, feeding his baby and watching TV... 

                              

                                               This time, I didn't say anything.

                             This in no way adequately prepares teens for raising children. I could, and did recite a litany of issues, like the doll only reacts from 3:00 pm to 10:00 pm, will quiet down after being fed, burped and changed and no one has to deal with projectile vomit or explosive poo...

                              The fact is, nothing can prepare anyone for taking care of a child. It is by nature, sink or swim, a pool filled with infinite screw ups and virtually no guarantees.

                                              Actually, there is only one guarantee...

                       Sometimes you are going to mess it up. Sometimes, and probably often...

                                         

                                           You bumble on forward, simply trying...

                         

                                  Anybody, any book or talk show host that says diffently is either lying or just trying to make a quick buck. We read all the books, saw all the doctors and tried every single suggestion that would not put either us, or our children into harms way...

                                          

                                         The problem is that babies do not listen, pay attention to, or even acknowledge any of these " experts".

                                        The real ones, much like the fake ones, have their own programming. 

               Not only do you not get the manual, but you are not even informed of the "programming language" they have been indoctrinated in. It is entirely up to you to " figure them out", how they like to be held, the speed they want to be rocked and what foods, from day to day and meal to meal, that they will choose to eat...

                            By no illusion am I thinking this little experiment has remotely taught my McMonkey about the finer insanities of raising infants...

                                       But for a few moments, I did see him contentedly cradling a fake baby in his arm, feeding non existent formula, while distractingly watching TV , like a real dad.

                                         

                                                         That was kind of neat...