After a friendly greeting, he told me that he was disappointed in me because a small amount of rust was on the gun when he got it back. On the surface, it is a simple situation. Any mature, responsible person would have responded with a sincere apology and asked what could be done to make it right.

Part of my problem was that I admired Bishop Coulter. He had been my neighbor for years, my Bishop, and had hired me on many occasions to work in his yard or in his business. One of my greatest fears as a teenager was disappointing the adults in my life who were important to me; teachers, parents, and clergy. His words that day sent my mind spinning and my heart racing. It was so upsetting, I even remember fighting back tears as I stood there mumbling who-knows-what back to him. It was like all of the sudden I was only five years old. Yeah, I had issues. I truly was unable to respond and therefore, irresponsible. For years afterwards, every time I saw him I remembered the rusty gun, K-Mart, and how I had let him down. I also figured every time he saw me he was remembering the same thing.

What he must have expected was an expression of remorse and an offer to make it right. I am quite certain the level of remorse I experienced far exceeded what he expected or wanted. The irony is that he saw none of it. In my panic and discomfort I probably avoided eye contact, swallowed several times, and offered what appeared to be a hollow apology before I bolted for the cash register.

The interesting thing to me, as I have looked back, is that I lacked an understanding of my feelings and the courage to face up to a difficult confrontation. It wasn’t that I lacked a desire to be responsible; I lacked the skills to respond. In addition, my unrealistic fears and ridiculous goals of perfection blocked a healthy reaction. I was like a deer in the headlights and ran for the trees.

I made similar blunders with girls I dated in high school and early college. I said things that were not congruent what I wanted. I lacked an understanding of myself and the social skills to communicate. Looking back, I don’t feel stress and anxiety at those situations. I forgive myself, but it took a few years. I was a teenager. Isn’t that what being a teenager is all about? Making mistakes and then spending the rest of our lives learning from them?

I’ve tried to address this concept with my kids. I always hoped they could build stronger emotional skills at earlier ages…and I believe they have. But growth is a personal thing. They are going to struggle and make mistakes during their lives. At least my kids seem more balanced than I was as a dazed and confused teenager. They face up to difficult situations, speak their minds, and make amends when required, for the most part. I’ve had difficult talks with each of them. Discussions I would have rather avoided and that forced me to drum up my own courage as I bought up topics and expressed feelings. I usually feel like bumbling fool, but I push through, they push through, and the end result is generally good. The failure isn’t in the attempt (although sometimes it feels like it). The real failure is in the lack of honest expression.

The correct thing to do in K-Mart would have been to look Bishop Coulter in the eyes and apologize. No beating myself up. No feelings of shame. Just a sincere expression of sorrow backed by the knowledge that everyone is entitled to mistakes. Then an attempt and a willingness to make the sacrifices required of me to make it right. It is so simple, yet was so beyond my capabilities at the time. No tricks or gimmicks, just something I’d call respondability. A combination of responsibility, honesty, and courage.

I may have failed in that moment, years ago, but the experience has helped me time and time again…which I suppose that makes the experience a success. When I encounter times in my life now where I feel like I want to run for the cash register, I try and tap into those core attributes. Am I being responsible, honest, and courageous? Although…sometimes I still feel a bit dazed and confused, it usually helps me navigate through even the toughest situations.

I watch my kids now, particularly my son who gets criticized by his mom and sisters (understandably) because of the time he spends playing computer games (currently Call of Duty 4 and World of Warcraft). I love gaming myself so I’m not so quick to criticize, but I too worry about the impact of him spending so much time on the computer.

Ideally, I prefer a balance for my kids. In addition to playing Ultima on my Atari 800XL, I spent a lot of my childhood playing outside in the wilderness. But my kids are growing up surrounded by highways and houses. They don’t have the miles and miles of open land to explore that I did. And in my small town all my friends were easily reached within a 30 minute. Their friends are separated by miles of heavy traffic. I’m not home during the day to structure their time and drive them around and I don’t have the money to send them to camps and/or enroll them in programs to keep them busy all summer. So where does that leave me? Where does that leave them?

As a parent, the things I struggle the most are those that are different than what I experienced growing up in a small Mormon town in Southern Utah. Now, being an agnostic in Seattle I run into tough spots all the time. I constantly have to remind myself that different is not wrong…even though it can feel wrong to me. It’s wrong because it is scary. It’s scary because I don’t know firsthand where the road is leads. But I look around me and see wonderful people much better adapted that me who took different roads. I know my way is not the only way.

I could write about any of my children, they all demonstrate incredible talent and dedication. This time I am going to focus on my son and the hours upon hours he spends playing video games. I think most people look at this behavior (and my allowing him to do it) with a stern frown. But, I’m not so quick to judge. I’m not saying it is an ideal situation, but under the circumstances I not going to condemn it just because it is different that how I grew up. Here are a few positive structural points:

• I know where he is all day and don’t have to worry.
• He is online with his friends, talking and interacting with them constantly.
• He’s not out getting into trouble or hanging with rough kids.
• In this rough economy, $16.95 per month for a WOW account is a steal for what I’m getting.

But life is more than structure and other factors must be considered. I would never go along with an ideal structure without considering the social, moral, mental, or spiritual cost. I love my son, I want the best life for him and I worry about how he is being molded internally by spending so much time playing games. But, there are several issues regarding him specifically that make me feel a lot better about it and seem to suggest that it is more about circumstance than a complete addiction to gaming.

• He loves the outdoors and is eager to go camping with us and doesn’t seem to struggle to have fun when we he is away from electronics.
• He gets his daily jobs done on a fairly regular basis.
• When he has opportunities to go do things with his friends, he takes advantage of them.
• He loves to spend time with his younger cousins (hold them, joke with them, and play games with them).
• Most of the time, he will break away from playing to watch a movie, play a board game, or spend some time with company that comes to visit.
• His grades are good during the school year.
• He is in good health and not overweight.
• He manages himself online with regards to who he meets and chats with (and I can monitor this).

Now, I’m not saying this is the ideal situation, but, maybe it’s not as bad as a lot of people think. There is solid research coming in that has begun to point out the educational value of games like World of Warcraft (click here for an example). The learning from these games could cover volumes and is not the purpose of this article but studies have shown extensive educational benefits that reach far beyond what was ever imagined.

But like anything in life, there are drawbacks (especially at the extreme). These games are addictive and have caused grades to plummet, relationships to crumble, and the loss of other hobbies and interests. I also worry about how he will be to launch into the real world, eventually. What about work ethic? What about a passion for education?

As I have been reading “Authentic Happiness” by Martin Selingman (for the second time, it’s a great book), I do see some similarities between the state of “flow” and what occurs while playing these games. Flow is when you lose yourself in a project. You lose track of time and you are engrossed in a task where your skills are matched to your challenges. Flow is a good thing and something we all hopefully experience often. When I watch Curtis playing Call of Duty, there are certainly extreme skills involved (I dare any of you to try and play against him). There is persistence (trying over and over again to win despite setbacks and losses). And anyone who has kids playing video games knows that loss of time is almost guaranteed. In addition, there is a social aspect that requires him to find ways to work with groups of friends and/or strangers to accomplish various tasks.

I do, however, suspect there can be a fine line between flow and addiction. This must be watched closely and managed. However, I wonder if the negative feedback that kids so often hear from playing these games isn’t doing more damage than the actual game playing.

How does a child who is told he is wasting all his time, never going to learn the value of work, and lazy react when something he is passionate about is attacked? My guess isn’t that he’s going to agree and willingly decide to walk away from such activities to pursue a more noble life. Instead, he will dig deeper into his gaming, now, subconsciously starting to believe he is wasting time, never going to learn the value of work, and is lazy.

These labels cause more harm than the behavior itself. Yet the irony is that when I see Curtis playing these games, I see fierce determination, extreme dedication, project management skills, social development, passion, and…get ready for this…hard work.

Before you criticize my entire post as merely an attempt to justify my parenting and my own love for computer gaming, let me just say that you are probably right…but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. I think my idea has validity.

Sitting in front of a computer for hours on end thinking, cursing, re-thinking, and solving problems is what both Curti and I do all day. Sometimes the tasks are intense, others boring and mundane. But we point, click, and churn away. He is doing it in a pretend world with virtual rewards, I am doing it for a paycheck. Instead of pointing out the negative to him, I want to make sure he understands the good things he is learning and label the productive aspects of his behavior with positive terminology that will build him instead of tearing him down. And I don’t just say that to put a spin on a “negative thing.” I don’t deny there aren’t negative angles to spending so much time playing computer games. But given the circumstance, his state of mind, the research, and what I have seen…I truly see a lot of positive aspects of this situation.

In addition helping our kids keep one foot in reality by watching their health/weight, grades, and interaction with family and friends, this is the message I think we should be sending to our young gamers.

You are learning to be dedicated and passionate, the same skills you will need to succeed in your career. You know how to focus and work hard to accomplish a difficult objective. You know how to accept defeat, learn from mistakes, and keep trying again until you succeed. You have learned that hard work will reward you and that by dedicating yourself to an objective, you achieve it. You have learned that when you don’t know how to do something you can research, ask, experiment and try repeatedly until you uncover the solution. You have seen the effects of acting foolish and of being cautious and careful. You have seen the importance of planning, coordinating, and working as a team. You have learned how dangerous it is to team up with somebody who is selfish and greedy (no matter how skilled they are). You know how to seek out people who will sacrifice themselves when necessary for the good of the whole. You know when you must do that yourself and you know when you shouldn’t.

These are important skills that can make you successful in life. Remember that. Just like you can reach your goals in virtual worlds, you can reach lofty goals and success in the real world. Clicking repeatedly for hours on end on monster after monster isn’t so different than the many repeated mundane tasks we face every day. The key difference is that the payoff and rewards come quicker in the gaming world. Real life moves at a slower pace when it comes to dishing out the treasure, but the important thing to always remember is that it does, nonetheless, come. Sometimes you will fail, others times succeed. But as you have learned, if you keep trying…you will ultimately get the reward. All of these skills you have learned can vault you ahead and help you accomplishing great things in the real world rather than seducing you forever into fantasy. You have the skills. You have the dedication. When life is hard and you feel discouraged, remember that you have already proven yourself in the virtual trainer…the world of gaming. You did it there, you can do it here. You do have the skills, you know how to work hard, and success is yours for the taking.

I know you love playing games, so enjoy yourself as long as you (insert your own list here):

1. Keep your Grades Up
2. Spend time with the Family
3. Get some Exercise
4. Do your chores
5. Behave appropriately Online

I was taught to obey God and Country, and I did. I followed rules to the T, for the most part (hmmm, to the T ‘for the most part?’). So I wasn’t perfect, but still, I followed rules, I feared rules, I lived by rules.

Back then, I adhered for two main reasons; God and my parents (I didn’t want to disappoint either of them). I didn’t question; I didn’t second guess; I accepted and lived them. I believed God was at the helm and of course, whatever he said I should do…obviously I should do.

Fast forward through me disappointing my parents in the biggest way ever (leaving the church). Now I no longer worry about letting God or my parents down yet for some reason, I still try and adhere to the laws of the land. I don’t speed…well rarely speed (and extreme speeding for me is 8 mph over). In fact, I still live many of the Mormon teachings even though I am no longer active with the church because I believe certain principals make my life better.

When my daughter had her learners permit, I wouldn’t budge from the strict rules for a new driver even though she and her mother hassled me for it. “But why dad, it’s only one mile, I won’t get pulled over, let me just drive my friend home.” And from my ex: “Just let her drive Jordan home, what is your problem…why do you always have to follow rules?”

Part of me agreed with them, what was the big deal? Why do I get so hung up on rules? Especially when I know that I don’t always follow the rules. One night at 2am I waited for a stop light for way longer than a working system would keep me at an intersection. I finally just ran it. That was breaking the law. Where exactly does my double standard draw lines? I try to follow them all. Even the laws I disagree with or think are just plain stupid. Why? Because as a society, we have to conform to our mutually agreed upon code in order to exist peacefully.

There are a lot of rules I believe are important. Chances are that you don’t feel the same set of laws I think are critical, are all as important as I do. Throw more people in the mix and it gets even worse. In the end, we have millions of people whose opinion on ethics, standards, and beliefs is as wide as the Mississippi. If we each take it upon ourselves to break the rules we don’t think are important, we step towards anarchy.

My good buddy and I had a big debate about this topic last fall when UW was penalized for celebrating in the end zone. It was minor, yes. But according to the rule, there was an infraction. And they had been warned before the game that any end zone celebration would be enforced. In my opinion it was a stupid rule, but, it was still a rule and had to be enforced. The rule should be changed, not ignored because it’s lame. The minute we let everyone start breaking rules they feel aren’t important, the system loses stability. No rule, even the most extreme, are agreed on by everyone. I don’t want to turn the interpretation of laws to individuals. Sure, a lot of the times it doesn’t really matter in the end…but then, a lot of times it does.

People disobey rules all the time because they feel the law doesn’t apply to them. We won’t ever get away from that. Our society, however, would be much better if everyone did follow laws and not let their own opinions and feelings dictate which rules they break and which ones they keep.

Imagine if a thief, murderer, or child abuser with this attitude: “Well, I think I should be able to (insert crime here), but I won’t because as a society we have established laws against it…so instead, I will lobby to have the law changed.” Yes, it’s a ridiculous example, but it summarizes my point. People who break laws obviously have rationalized that for whatever reason, the laws don’t apply to them. If I expect them to follow the laws, despite their own thoughts on which rules are right or wrong, I have to follow the same guideline.

That is why I am, generally, a stickler when it comes to following rules (even the stupid ones that don’t seem to be a big deal). And again, I’m not perfect it and have broken laws. My daughter caught me rolling slowly through a stop sign recently. I’m a hypocrite; I can’t follow my own advice. But I do try and I know it frustrates people around me sometimes. But I believe it’s important unless you have an extreme socially acceptable reason not to (my son was dying in the back seat and we broke the speed limit and ran a few stop signs rushing to the hospital). But I know even that is left up to individual interpretation, which is what I’d prefer to avoid.

Rules help with parenting too. We set up a structure, agree to live by a code, and then if a rule is broken we know the consequence (I’m sorry, you can’t have a friend over cause you chose not to do your jobs…but do you want to shoot some hoops with me?). I don’t have to be mean, I don’t have to get angry, it’s the structure that enforces the consequence. But that is a whole ‘nuther article.

This viewpoint doesn’t apply in all environments. If we lived in an oppressed society I would probably be writing stuff that would get me thrown in jail by encouraging people to break the chains binding us. But we don’t. We are quite free here in the USA and most places in the world. Life is rather decent, and we have a lot of good around us. My advice is, follow the rules. If you don’t like them, lobby to change them or move somewhere where what you want to do is legal. This philosophy isn’t without flaws, but I think it would lead to the best overall environment for a civilized, democratic society.If you think I’m way off base here, let me know. I’d like to know your take on it.

The marriage stayed in tact four more years after writing this entry. The aftermath and confusion of my divorce twisted my body, mind, and soul in ways that changed me forever. My life now, with a woman that is truly an ideal match for me, is like a calm peaceful morning following a night of thunder and lightning so close you can smell the burnt air. That storm ripped my house apart and I thought my life was destroyed. Now five years later, a new home stands testament to the healing power of Father Time.

My Crucible (November of 2000)

I look for a reason. Unsuccessful, I fall back asleep, wake up an hour later, and try again. Getting out of bed is the toughest part of my day. My job starts in the afternoon, kids are at school, and I only work three hours a day. I could sleep almost all day if I wanted.

I’m not tired, I’m empty. Crack open my chest you’ll find an empty hole. My belly button to my throat is an empty cavity where my spine dangles like the root of a tree searching for nourishment. There is nothing to feed it.

As a lifeless drone, I do the bare minimum required to survive. It’s not a good place to be. I don’t complain or try to change, I just tolerate life. It’s what I’ve done for over thirty years but it’s starting to bug me now.

It’s not that I don’t have plenty of opportunities to fill my soul. Nourishment is plentiful; my kids, a job I almost enjoy, music, writing, photography, rock climbing…plenty of passion. Well, there could be at least. So why am I so empty?

By the time I was 13 and without even knowing what happened, I embraced a belief that a woman contained the key to my happiness. She would fill my chest with happiness, passion, and pleasure. It wasn’t a conscious choice, but rather a gradual dependence formed by years of social programming.

I watched TV and saw movies where women made men happy. I saw how men gave anything for the pleasures offered by beautiful women. Large breasts, a slim figure, beautiful hair, and inviting eyes were the secret formula for happiness. The media sold it and my hormones bought it.

In addition, my religion taught that marriage would give additional meaning and purpose to my life. Women were a one stop solution to the meaning of life. But there was a catch with religion: sexual desires are good only in the confines as marriage. Not a bad thing in itself, but the guilt from my lusting poisoned my youth.

By eighth grade this programming controlled my life. I would only find happiness when a girl accepted and loved me. But, I was such evil person because of my carnal desires and constant disappointments to God, my parents, and myself. My self-esteem was a mess. I spent my pathetic teenage years dreaming and wishing for a girlfriend yet lacking the confidence to barely even talk to girls. I had moments of elation and some fun relationships, but for the most part, my dependence on them got in the way and messed things up.

Acquiring a girlfriend and managing my sexual desires became a juggling act: a cycle of passion, masturbation, guilt, self-flagellation, depression, and back to passion. It was a thorny complex cycle. My soul screamed for happiness, my body screamed for pleasure, and the two blurred together offering women as the solution. But to form the pure and wholesome relationship required for true happiness component, I had to bury my evil sexual desires. I worked hard on this one (see the above cycle/juggling act) and held on because I believed the nightmare condition would all end once I was married. At that point it would all come together; happiness, meaning, and pleasure. I tried to be a perfect little Mormon boy and later considered careers based on money rather than something I enjoyed.

Marriage and the introduction of sex medicated me for a time. It kept me numb to the fact that I wasn’t living my own life or following my own dreams. As long as I had my fix, I kept going. When the sex frequency took a nose dive after the first year, my world spun. Start juggling again, this time on a spinning merry-go-round. Now, after ten years of marriage we teeter on the brink of divorce. I’ve spent my whole life leaning on admiration and sexual gratification from women, a rickety old crutch to begin with, and it is being taken away. Now I’m empty. I don’t have the love and admiration of the women I married, I am sexually frustrated, and I’ve realized my life-long scripts are bullshit.

I’m in a tough spot. I don’t like relying on women for validation, meaning, and pleasure. Thirty years of programming doesn’t just flush down the toilet. It takes work to clean up a mess like this. I’m so used to relying on women I don’t know how to take responsibility for my own happiness. The thought scares the hell out of me. Somehow, though, I’ll have to learn to fill my own tank. It’s the way it should be because I know happiness can only come from within; through self-love, service, creativity, honesty, spirituality, intimacy…I know where I need to be but don’t know how to get there.

I’m not alone with this. Sex sells because people like me buy in to the fact that it’ll bring happiness. I can understand why even the president of the United States would risk everything for a blowjob. Sex, money, drugs, and power are where men look, typically. We all have our periods of vainly searching for happiness in places where it can’t be found. The lessons we learn from media, religion, social influence, and even parents aren’t always the most effective ways to live.

So what now? I can’t say. There is no easy answer. For me, it’s one day at a time and courage to look in a new places for happiness. It’s scary, but I’ll get rid of my addiction to women. I’m determined to be happy independent of my sexual and emotional issues with women.

It’s a shame too, because I love to learn and took classes that challenged me and that I would have enjoyed had I let go and freed myself to suck in knowledge. This behavior followed me through my first two years of College. Professor Allen Payne finally destroyed it.

Dr. Payne taught a literature class that I loved. He introduced me to my favorite short story of all time, St. Emmanuel the Good Martyr by Unamuno. Halfway through the quarter our class ended up talking about grades. He tried to tell us grades weren’t the most important thing and I was one of the students that argued back, grades were everything. He tried to convince us that what we learned was the most important and our priority should not be on grades but on knowledge. I told him I’d take an A rather than a B even if it meant I learned less. Grades meant scholarships. Grades meant graduate school. Grades meant success.

He thought for a minute and said, “Fine. I’m going to do an experiment. I want you all to focus on learning rather than grades. Do that and at the end of the quarter if you aren’t getting an A and want one, come and ask me. I’ll give it to you.”

At the time, it didn’t mean anything to me because I was getting an A. But when finals rolled around and I found myself swamped with all my procrastinated studying, I knew could blow off that class. I didn’t plan on doing it, at least consciously, but in the end I spent my time studying for my other classes and didn’t study for Dr. Payne’s class. I took the final and wrote on the bottom of the page, “I want to take you up on your offer, please give me an A.” I figured I’d dropped to a B+.

I felt bad about it. I respected and admired Dr. Payne and knew this would let him down. I felt like I was one of his best students and I was being a schmuck. But the A was more important. We got our tests back and he’d written on it, “if you want the A, you’ll have to come and talk to me.” Exactly what I did not want to do. But again, I needed it…so I did.

I sat down with him and he told me he really didn’t expect anyone to take him up on the offer but that two of us had. (Ironically, I met the other girl in a totally different circumstance years later…we talked, found out we were both in that class, and then confessed we’d each taken the A.) He asked me if it was really that important. I stuck to my guns. Yes it was.

The next year a strange thing happened, something changed in my need for A’s. Inside, I knew I’d sold myself out for a grade and that it was the wrong choice. (You’ll see this theme in my short story “The Prostitute”). It wasn’t who I wanted to be. I was saying and doing things that weren’t congruent with who I wanted to be. I knew learning was the objective but getting bad grades was not only embarrassing, it let people down. I had tried to cheat the system and focused on what would convince people I was something that I was not. Somehow what happened with Dr. Payne brought this out in me and I was able to grow because of it. My need for good grades dropped considerably, as did my GPA (although not so considerably). I spent more time researching things that interested me, whether they impacted my report card or not.

Years later, I took a job at that same college and paid another visit to Dr. Payne. I reminded him of the incident; sure he was still disappointed in my choice. He couldn’t remember the experiment at all. But he did say it was a very successful experiment and he was thrilled at the impact it had on me. I felt forgiven. He also said he still used my analysis on “St. Emmanual the Good Martyr” in class and even gave me a copy of it.

This experience rippled through my life and has impacted many of my choices such as my struggles with religion, relationships, and frank discussions with employers. I’ve tried to be congruent with who I really am, even when it has meant making difficult choices. I don’t always make the best choices and still sometimes sell myself out, but most of the time I feel like I’m improving. I can say that my total focus is less on the grade that it used to be. My rating in society that is based on money, my job, my sex appeal (or lack thereof) means much less than it used to be. I’m more willing to take risks by being honest in relationships than I was in the past. In terms of career and how the world might rate me, I’m definatly not getting straight A’s. I haven’t seen my latest report card from my family, those grades matter to me, but outside that I’m rather content with a B GPA. If I keep working on it, maybe in ten years I’ll even be okay with C’s.

Two years ago his friend was making 90K a year as an civil engineer and life was good. Then his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. Then the business folded and he found himself unemployed. To keep treatment for his wife, they have to come up with $1100 per month for COBRA insurance. They can’t switch insurance companies because nobody wants to pick up a client with terminal cancer. Things are not looking good for his wife, the Doctors are close to giving her X amount of days. He is still looking for work despite dropping his target salary to less than half of what he previously earned. They have five kids ranging from 9-19, the oldest of which is on a two year mission for his church.

I’ve heard a lot of hardship stories, but it that one hits pretty deep.

During the course of the conversation, I made the comment that I really only needed $30,000 a year to survive and didn’t care so much about money beyond that. I was more interested in a job that let me spend time with my family than one that promised promotions and big money. Apparently, my comment sparked several debates with the upper managers and they threatened to let me go. Ironically, however, they promoted me and I became one of them.

His argument was that employees who didn’t feel pressured for financial reasons were a weakness. The company lacked the leverage and power to control them in a way that was best for business. Employees can’t say “no” to a request to work the weekend or to attend a week-long conference, right? Well, when they aren’t leveraged they can. Although I said yes most of the time, there were some no’s…because they didn’t have the control. I didn’t feel locked into my job and I knew I’d be fine without it.

It takes some planning to be able to pull this off I have a few suggestions that can make it easier. First, a good degree and strong resume (makes finding new jobs much easier). Second, make less money than you are worth (then you never feel pressured to stay). Third, keep your financial obligations to a minimum (stay away from credit cards, drive a used car, keep expenses down, and read this book).

The big drawback is you probably won’t ever drive a Ferrari, live on the lake, or have a closet full of designer clothes. In addition, a lot of people might see you as a loser. But if you’re like me, the time spent with family, hiking, camping, writing, taking pictures, or playing video games (where you can drive as many Ferrari’s as you want) is well worth it.

I’m not the best employee, I admit it. I honestly don’t know if I’d hire myself or not. Actually, if I was hiring a photographer or writer, I’d hire myself in a heartbeat. And if you need one, you should hire me to. You’ll get your money’s worth. The real question is this: should a business really have the leverage my former boss wanted or is there something to be said for a free-thinking employee who has a life outside of work? On the one hand, you can’t order them around like a dictator. But on the other, maybe you don’t have to worry so much about them flipping out, harassing co-workers, inviting lawsuits, embarrassing clients, or going AWOL.

Years later, at that same job, I told my new boss that I was tired of working for the man. He was an awesome boss, I hope he didn’t take it personally…he wasn’t the man I was talking about. I didn’t have another job lined up, I hadn’t been looking, and I knew I was breaking a golden rule by being honest with my employer. But he asked where my passion had gone and I honestly told him it was gone forever. Given, I had just gone through a tough divorce and my life had been turned upside-down, but it felt awesome to say exactly what was on my mind.

He didn’t fire me, in fact he encouraged me to stay. But I left five weeks later, took four months off, and wrote my first novel. Then I found a job that paid more, was only an hour of commuting each day (instead of three), and had double the vacation time. Oh, and was for a non-profit company (no more making the rich man richer).

My future? I don’t know. But I do know I’ll pay the bills one way or another…things just always work out if you structure it right. Sure, I fall way short of my potential. I know it and so do countless others who have told me as much. But that’s only when you measure potential in terms of career. Just ask my kids and their friends how I measure up as a father. In that area, I’m not so shabby. And who knows, maybe someday I’ll sell one of my novels or break open my photography. Until then, I’ll keep plugging away as best I can.

I loved summer as a kid; I dread it as a parent. At least the out of school part. Not because I don’t want the kids to have fun and get a break from school, it’s because they get so freakin’ bored and I feel responsible. I don’t remember being bored as a kid. Was I? It seems like my kids are constantly bored and I’m trying to figure out what I’m doing wrong as a parent.

I grew up in a small town surrounded by friends. There was hill after hill of Utah wilderness to explore right out of my front door. My kids live in the middle of suburbia and spend most of their time stuck indoors because of the rain and houses that fill the horizon in every direction. In addition, I don’t know many of my neighbors…there aren’t five kids of assorted ages in almost every house in the neighborhood. As a kid, I played constantly…basketball, football, rode bikes in the hills, had dirt clod wars, hunted with bb guns, and even some Dungeons and Dragons. Sometimes we’d even pack up supplies and as many as ten kids (ages 6-13) would hike several miles out of town, make a fire, cook dinner, and sleep under the stars. Just us kids.

The unknown is scary and I’m surrounded by it. I don’t know some of my kids friends. And although I know their closest ones, I don’t know most of their parents. I worry when my kids are with people I don’t know well or roam the streets like I used to roam the wilderness. My kids don’t have the foundation of religion that I did, which was pretty much the core of my life until my mid-twenties. Is it possible to raise good kids without religion? Well, my mother and father-in-law raised an incredible daughter, so I know it’s possible. And right now I have awesome children, ask anyone. But all of this is unknown to me. I’m not on familiar turf at all.

Even Ivins, Utah, where I grew up, isn’t the same anymore. Moving back there wouldn’t help. Back then, everyone knew everyone. Literally. I was thinking the other day how I’m tied to all the kids I grew up with, even the ones that didn’t like me. We all have a common bond, growing up in that small town. It’s something that can’t be explained. But what will my kids have? Will they remember a long drawn out boring childhood? Where I have fond memories will their minds be filled with sludge and misery?

The kids just spent 4 nights with me out of town on a business trip. They had a computer, movies, board games, a swimming pool, a mall across the street (but no money), books, cell phones, and TV…and they were bored out of their minds. It’s the same story at home. They get so bored. Maybe I would have been bored too as a kid with electronic entertainment everywhere I turned. Maybe it has trained them to need a constant blitzing of flashing lights that never really satisfies. I loved the computer we finally got when I was in High School, an Atari 800XL (after years of begging and pleading). But I had a lot more to go with it.

Raising families in the city isn’t anything new, it’s just new to me. I need to do a better job of it. I don’t want my kids to be bored, but maybe the game consoles, computers, TV’s, stereos, movies, and MP3 players I bought them to help remove boredom, have made it worse. Maybe they have an inner need to explore the wilderness that no amount of Halo can replace. I wish they could. I wish they had friends in every direction, like I did. Maybe I need to stop worrying about it and let them negotiate their own boredom.

Aubree wants to get into piano lessons, Curti into guitar and Mikayla has a soccer camp coming up…those are good things. My parents may come up for a week, their Aunt Misty is moving up…so there is hope for the summer. I think the core issue is that raising my kids in a completely different environment that I knew is really scary. But I love them, we spend time together and they are good kids. We really are doing fine. Now if we can just somehow slide through these last few years clean, it’ll be okay. When I hear about the troubles some have with teenagers and I look at my own…I know I’m blessed. Maybe I’m forgetting my own rough times. Now that I think about it, most of the fun times I remember were younger years, before fourteen. Although I don’t remember being bored, I know I was depressed a lot from 15-17…maybe it’s the almost the same thing. And I turned okay, for the most part. I’m sure my own troubles at that age make it extra scary to watch them go through these years. Teenage years are tough, so many changes and adjustments. Even so, I hate to see them so bored!

I want to know the rest of the story…to the point that my mind starts to create it. Perhaps one of the most charismatic, intelligent, and innovative human beings ever to walk this earth will never be known. We love stories about heroes who have saved the world…just look at our movies, novels, and legends. But outside of theology, there hasn’t ever been one soul responsible for saving the world from destruction. No Superman, James Bond, or Austin Powers. No one person can take credit for saving us all…right?

What if 70,000 years ago a sole man or woman inspired a people beaten by poverty, hunger, disease, and war to radically change their ideals. This person not only introduced complex unorthodox solutions to our demoralized ancestors, he or she also organized and rallied them to action. This hero inspired confidence like rain brings life to the desert, and we flourished and changed. On the brink of destruction, we altered our course and pushed into uncharted territory. Now look at us…maybe he or she is turning in their grave.

At the very least, it makes for an interesting story. I’ll put it on the list of novels that I’d like to someday write…

Harry Gorman not only had one of the best jobs I can imagine, he lived in the neighborhood of my dreams. Harry, Martha (his wife), and Captain (their dog) lived for many years in the African Bush. He was the caretaker on a large plot of land smack dab in the middle of Sabi Sands, one of the private game reserves in the Kruger National Park. But instead of a game reserve, this rugged landscape was the private retreat for a wealthy Australian who occasionally came and stayed in his modest home overlooking the savanna. The Gorman’s lived a mile or so away in their own simple, yet cozy, home.

Harry invited me on several occasions to come and stay in his guesthouse, a small rondoval a stones throw from his front door (in the picture). Days with Harry were filled with simple African meals cooked by his wife, drives looking for game in his landrover, and long conversations under the stars as lions roared in the distance. I would say this is my favorite place in the world, but it only lives in memory. Cancer took the Australian and his kids sold the land, a commercial outfit came in and built luxury accommodations to attract tourists, and Martha passed away. The last I heard of Harry was in a letter from his daughter. He wasn’t doing well and living in a rest home somewhere in Johannesburg. That was several years ago.

The best part of spending time with the Gorman’s was hearing them rattle off simple day to day events. Where I might complain about the garbage man showing up late, Martha griped about the Rhino’s eating her cabbage. At the breakfast table she might say something like, “make sure you look around before you go outside this morning, there was a lion out there last night.” Just hearing her say that was as exciting as seeing the lion for myself.

I can only imagine what his life in the African Bush must have been like, day in and day out. In total I only spent a few weeks with them, yet even in that short time experienced some pretty amazing things. One night a Leopard killed an impala ten feet from where I was sleeping, right out my window. A gunshot one Sunday afternoon jolted me out of a nap to find a dead puff adder right outside my front door. When I imagine living a lifetime in that atmosphere I can’t help but fall into a blissful daydream. I loved his stories. On my last trip I recorded him telling some of them, like the time Captain got in a fight with a leopard and when their maid spent a night in a tree surrounded by lions. Once a spitting cobra got in the house and for several days they couldn’t find it.

Maybe I’ll write some of them and post them, along with pictures if I can dig them up. Every time I stayed with Harry I awed that such a place even existed. The sad thing for Harry and Martha is that even in heaven, I can’t imagine they could find a better place than where they spent their life together for so many years here on earth. I hope they went right back home. And I hope someday I can be right there with them again.