Hero Jenkins's Blog, page 2

"Butt-Dialing" vs. the "Booty Call"... not everyone knows the difference!

by Hero JenkinsThere's a common phenomenon with modern mobile phones where the phone dials a number in your contact list all by themselves after being jostled around in your pocket or purse. Some people call this "pocket dialing" but if it happens while your phone in a BACK pocket it's called "butt dialing".When you accidentally “butt dial” someone it’s only natural to exclaim something like: “Oh, Sorry… I butt dialed you." Of course, you assume people know what "butt dialing" means before you say it.My mom is in her eighties and she has never heard of "butt dialing" she has no idea what it is... but she DOES know what a "booty call" is (apparently there was a special report on one of her talk shows recently). The other day my wife had a similar outburst after a "butt dialing" incident and I found myself in a position of having to explain the difference to my mom. Oh boy.
What is your most embarrassing "butt dialing" moment? Leave a comment below.

Layout Contest

I have an artist, Glen Brown from Browntown media, working on a graphic novel version for my new book “A Storm in Memphis”  . 
He is incorporating the images above and has come up with three choices in layouts.

I need input on which layout looks the best. Leave your answer in the comment section below.
Hero Jenkins

Summer Fruit Just Doesn't Taste Right Anymore

by Hero Jenkins
Summertime in southern California used to be a great time to be a kid, especially if you come from a large family. It meant that there were a lot of brothers and sisters and cousins to play with. It also meant that big brother or sister were in charge because the parents usually had to work. It meant that the doors would be flung open and we would be kicked out of the house.
The best part, however, was the abundance of summer fruit. The concept of buying fruit from the store seemed so strange to me because, for a time, we had all the fruit we could eat. Everybody in the neighborhood had fruit trees and almost everyone had to go to work. We thought nothing of hopping fences and helping ourselves. All summer long we ate peaches, plums, apricots, loquats, pomegranates, nectarines and cherries. They were ours for the taking.
But we soon had competition.
Every kid in the neighborhood had the same idea but there were rules, and for a while everything worked out just fine. You didn’t trash the yard or the tree because people would get mad and buy big dogs or put glass or nails on the top of their fences. Or they would prune back the tree so that it bore no fruit at all. You only took what you could eat that day and then you returned the next to get some more. There was plenty of fruit for everyone and it lasted all summer.
That was until a new family moved into the neighborhood. They moved onto our street. I don’t remember their names. We called them the “dirt kids” because they were always dirty. I remember there were a lot of them. There were at least three sets of twins, which was odd, especially in the days before in vitro fertilization. They were like locusts. They would descend upon a tree and eat everything including the leaves. They broke off branches and basically destroyed the tree… it never bore fruit again.
Every summer there were fewer and fewer trees to pick fruit from and the dirt kids were expanding out to a larger radius. Every summer it was a race to get to the fruit trees before the dirt kids could. Which meant we had to eat the fruit while it was still green in most cases. As a result, my taste in fruit hovers somewhere between ripe and almost ripe... bordering on barely ripe and still a little green. To this day I don’t really care for the ripened fruit available in the store; most of it is too sweet or too soft. It just doesn’t taste right.

I guess I'm going to have to plant my own trees and hope that the dirt kids have not had dirt kids of their own!

A Married Man's Brain (survey results)

by Hero Jenkins
Survey Results (see original post and survey)
Survey responders33% female67% male
Women: 63% said sleep on the floor. Of that 37% who said the husband should sleep in the bed 66% were single or divorced.
Men: 47% said sleep on the floor. Of that 53% who said the husband should sleep in the bed 10% were single or divorced.

So the men were almost split with the edge going to men who would sleep in the bed. It didn’t seem to matter if they were married or single. The women on the other hand seemed to lean nearly two to one on the man sleeping on the floor.

A Married Man's Brain

by Hero Jenkins

















I wanted to start this post with a survey. Don't worry, it's a short one (only 3 questions) I will post the results in a couple of days:






***

Is a married man’s brain wired differently than a single man’s? When science evolves further someone should invent a machine that can answer this question. All I have is anecdotal evidence and a theory... nothing concrete, nothing scientific to validate my theory - but I think it is.
Case study #1:
My friend's wife was injured in a car crash that required her to have surgery on her back. As a result of the surgery she had to sleep on a hard surface or else the benefits of the surgery would be minimized if not undone altogether.
Their mattress as it turned out was way too soft. They tried putting a sheet of plywood between the box springs and the mattress but that didn’t work. They tried sleeping on just the box spring alone - that didn’t work either. They went to the local mattress store and even the firmest mattresses available were not firm enough.
Eventually they realized that the only thing firm enough was the floor.  She insisted that her husband sleep in the bed and that she would be fine. “Go ahead honey,” she said as she got her sleeping spot ready on the bedroom floor, "it’s OK… I’ll be fine.”
There was no way he was going to just walk past her laying there on the floor night after night and then crawl into their incredibly comfortable bed. So he made himself a sleeping area right on the floor next to her. Now, when most women hear about this they erupt in a chorus of “Oh, how sweet.”
Well, there may have been some underlying sweetness in his actions but that’s not what was going through his mind. The way he explained it to me was that this move was purely self-preservational. Although she said it was OK, he'd been married long enough to know that in reality it was not. Being a married man myself, I agreed with his logic one hundred percent. But it got me thinking... would all men do the same thing? He had done a survey amongst his friends and family and had a result. When I heard the story I started an informal (and completely unscientific) survey amongst my friends and family.
Women were a hundred percent - they felt that if the wife said it was OK to sleep in the bed that the husband should have slept in the bed. But in almost the same breath, and with a twinkle in their eyes, they announced how sweet his gesture was.
My single male friends were also one hundred percent. They were in total agreement with the women but there was no twinkle in their eye when they reacted to what my friend did… it was something else and it was not polite.
However, when I talked to the MARRIED men things really got interesting. They were all in agreement that they would have slept on the floor, but the reasons varied almost as much as the individuals themselves. Some actually were being sweet but some were worried about resentment or what they called passive retaliation (like hot dog and Top Ramen dinners for life or horrible unthinkable things like: no sex ever again.)

So this is just a theory, but someday science may prove me right. Something happens to a man’s brain when he gets married. It seems to be wired differently than it was before. Perhaps if there was a way to take a picture 'before' and then several years thereafter. They could compare it to the 'never been married brain' and analyze the difference. And in case my wife is reading, “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing honey... I'm just saying it's different.”

The Father/Daughter Dance

by Hero Jenkins
I was dreading the upcoming Father/Daughter Dinner Dance at my daughter’s high school. When I say dread, I’m putting it right up there with root canals and IRS audits; I did NOT want to go. To top it off, I learned that every one of these dances had a theme.
Seriously?
Not only do I have to make a fool of myself on the dance floor (I can’t dance in case you haven’t already guessed) but I have to do it in a costume!
My daughter was a freshman at a new school and she was excited. My wife was giving me one of those 'wife' looks... like: “You know you are going to this thing don’t you?”... “You know you have no choice in the matter right?” My football coach used to look at us and say: “The only way you are allowed to miss practice is if you are dead and someone brings me a note from God." It was one of those looks.
When I was in high school we did dances like "the four corners”, “the bump”, and “the hustle”. I had no idea which dance moves were current so I tuned into MTV and studied them. By the time dance night rolled around I was ready. My daughter was dressed like a rock star with huge glasses, boots, teal blue tights layered by other odd looking clothing that didn’t seem to match, and a plastic guitar. I was her bodyguard with dark shades and a leather coat. (I looked very cool I might add.)
When it came time to show off my moves I strutted out on the dance floor with the confidence of a pro wrestler who had memorized his script.
As it turned out, most of the dances at that time didn’t really require the male to do much. I basically did a two-step and looked cool (something I was already good at) and the women, or in this case my daughter, did all of the work. They also did most of the dancing with their backs to their partner which I thought was odd but whatever.
I did notice one other thing on MTV though. After the female had danced for a while, and if she was dancing well, it was the male’s job to acknowledge this by pretending to fan her to cool her off. So as soon as my daughter turned her back to me, I started fanning her just the way I'd seen on MTV.
Now, those of you who are old enough to have seen “Saturday Night Fever” will know what I’m talking about. (For the rest of you it’s “Step Up” I guess.) Anyway, just like in those movies, everybody moved off to the side and watched us go to work. My daughter had her back to me and she must have had her eyes closed because she really didn’t notice what I was doing until her friends who had all stopped dancing to watch us started screaming.
“Your DAD is SOOOOO COOL!” they shrieked!
When she finally looked back at me (judging by the look on her face) I realized I had done something REALLY dumb. Though I had no clue what.
“DAD! What are you doing!?!”
Before I could react, the song ended and she took my hand and led me back to our table (to a thunderous applause).
“Where did you learn that?!?”
“I watched MTV . . . why?”
“Do you even know what you were doing?”
“I was fanning you... I don’t understand what the problem is. Your friends loved it and all of the other dads are jealous,” I said proudly.
“That dance move is not fanning,” she said through clenched teeth, “that’s SPANKING!”
“Ohhhhhh...”
The only thing that saved me was that the other dads were clueless and their daughters thought it was so cool that they never told anyone what it really meant.

There were other Father/Daughter Dances but we never replicated the “magic” of that first one. It didn’t matter though because I'd already guaranteed my “star” on the dad’s “walk of fame”... which no doubt would have been moved to the “walk of shame” had any of the other dads actually realized what I was doing out there.

Drunk on a Subway Bench

by Hero JenkinsAround the time our kids made it to high school my wife and I started taking mini-vacations to New York where we would fly into Manhattan for about three days. We would get a room in a hotel near Times Square, get tickets to whatever Broadway play worth seeing was available, and then we would fly home.There is a ticket booth in Times Square called "TKTS" where we would buy tickets sold on the day of the performance (theaters usually sold unsold seats at discounted rates). Sometimes we got lucky. We saw “Lion King”, “Ragtime”, “Chicago”, and “Miss Saigon” to name a few. However, sometimes the play was not very good... “Aida” comes to mind. It was billed as being on par with The Lion King. It was not. We never saw “Cats” though… those cats kinda creeped me out anyway.One of the highlights of the trip was eating dinner at new restaurants. We found a restaurant called "Jekyll and Hyde" where wannabe actors and crazy people dressed up like characters from the time periods of Jack the Ripper and Jekyll and Hyde. They roamed the restaurant and made sure everybody had a good time by harassing the patrons and behaving oddly. The bathrooms were hidden behind secret passages and bookshelves and unless it was an obvious emergency (you were jumping up and down doing the pee-pee dance) no one would tell you where they were. You had to find them for yourself.Then there was the “Motown Café” where performers who were dressed like the Motown greats performed on a revolving stage made to look like a revolving record. When the mood struck them they would leap off the stage and do all kinds of crazy things: like when singing “Dancing in the Street” by Martha Reeves and the Vandellas, they decided to do just that. Before long the restaurant had emptied out and we were all literally dancing in the street!I believe it was on one of these trips, while we were on our way to one of these dinners, that we encountered an extremely intoxicated man sprawled on a bench near the subway station. He was in his mid-thirties, dressed casually in jeans and a light jacket. To top it off he was wearing a lot of expensive jewelry and a hundred dollar bill was hanging out of his pocket. We were near Central Park which at the time was not the safest place to be.My first instinct is always to help, much to my wife’s dismay. I approached the man and called to him but he seemed to be unconscious. I gave him a shake and asked him if he was okay. He swatted at me and grunted something that I didn't understand. My wife translated.“He said he doesn’t need your help... he says to go away and leave him alone.” I shook him again. He swatted and grunted (again). It was pretty much the same message as before except I was pretty sure he added a few expletives for emphasis.I couldn’t just leave him there! I’m pretty good at spotting crooks and I had seen a couple of them hanging out nearby. They couldn’t have been more obvious if they were wearing striped shirts and ski masks. They were totally eying this guy. I had no doubt they would rob him as soon as we walked away.I tried to get him to sit up but he wouldn’t budge. There was a half consumed bottle of Jack Daniel's in his pocket and he reeked of it. I tried to get his phone number; perhaps I could call someone to come get him. The last thing I wanted to do was leave him where he was, the WAY he was, and then read about his demise in the paper the next day. Even if the best I could do was annoy him, at least he would get moving and get himself away from this obviously dangerous place.So I decided to bother the heck out of him and not let him sleep. I started to give him advice on getting his life together and the dangers of drinking too much. Look at where it had gotten him: he was semi-conscious, spread out on a bench near one of the most dangerous subway stations in town. He grunted and cursed some more . . . my plan was working.It wasn’t until the bushes started shaking (and laughing) that I realized what was actually going on. This guy was an undercover cop! And there were three MORE undercover cops hiding behind that shaking, laughing bush waiting for someone to take this guy's money so they could jump him!They couldn’t hold it in any longer - they were cracking themselves up. Even my wife started laughing! The only two people who didn’t think it was funny was me and the fake drunk guy. He just lay there on the bench, sighed an exasperated sigh, and rolled his eyes.My wife later informed me that they did this kind of thing on “Cops” all the time. How would I know??? I didn’t even WATCH that show!

A Storm in Memphis book trailer

Check out the new trailer for my soon to be released book "A Storm in Memphis"

Hero Jenkins Leave us your eMail and we will notify you when the book is available #af-form-818764379 .af-body .af-textWrap{width:70%;display:block;float:right;} #af-form-818764379 .af-body a{color:#2362A1;text-decoration:underline;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;} #af-form-818764379 .af-body input.text, #af-form-818764379 .af-body textarea{background-color:#EEEEEE;border-color:#AAAAAA;border-width:1px;border-style:solid;color:#555555;text-decoration:none;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;font-family:Georgia, serif;} #af-form-818764379 .af-body input.text:focus, #af-form-818764379 .af-body textarea:focus{background-color:#FFFFFF;border-color:#030303;border-width:1px;border-style:solid;} #af-form-818764379 .af-body label.previewLabel{display:block;float:left;width:25%;text-align:left;color:#000000;text-decoration:none;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;font-family:Georgia, serif;} #af-form-818764379 .af-body{padding-bottom:15px;padding-top:15px;background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:inherit;background-image:none;color:#000000;font-size:14px;font-family:Georgia, serif;} #af-form-818764379 .af-footer{padding-bottom:60px;padding-top:60px;padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;background-color:transparent;background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:bottom center;background-image:url("http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KZOt1TF5PEE..., serif;} #af-form-818764379 .af-header{padding-bottom:20px;padding-top:20px;padding-right:10px;padding-left:10px;background-color:#FFFFFF;background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:top center;background-image:url("http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Td3X6V0YQE..., serif;} #af-form-818764379 .af-quirksMode .bodyText{padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:2px;} #af-form-818764379 .af-quirksMode{padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;} #af-form-818764379 .af-standards .af-element{padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;} #af-form-818764379 .bodyText p{margin:1em 0;} #af-form-818764379 .buttonContainer input.submit{background-image:url("http://forms.aweber.com/images/auto/g... left;background-repeat:repeat-x;background-color:#134679;border:1px solid #134679;color:#FFFFFF;text-decoration:none;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;font-family:Georgia, serif;} #af-form-818764379 .buttonContainer input.submit{width:auto;} #af-form-818764379 .buttonContainer{text-align:right;} #af-form-818764379 body,#af-form-818764379 dl,#af-form-818764379 dt,#af-form-818764379 dd,#af-form-818764379 h1,#af-form-818764379 h2,#af-form-818764379 h3,#af-form-818764379 h4,#af-form-818764379 h5,#af-form-818764379 h6,#af-form-818764379 pre,#af-form-818764379 code,#af-form-818764379 fieldset,#af-form-818764379 legend,#af-form-818764379 blockquote,#af-form-818764379 th,#af-form-818764379 td{float:none;color:inherit;position:static;margin:0;padding:0;} #af-form-818764379 button,#af-form-818764379 input,#af-form-818764379 submit,#af-form-818764379 textarea,#af-form-818764379 select,#af-form-818764379 label,#af-form-818764379 optgroup,#af-form-818764379 option{float:none;position:static;margin:0;} #af-form-818764379 div{margin:0;} #af-form-818764379 fieldset{border:0;} #af-form-818764379 form,#af-form-818764379 textarea,.af-form-wrapper,.af-form-close-button,#af-form-818764379 img{float:none;color:inherit;position:static;background-color:none;border:none;margin:0;padding:0;} #af-form-818764379 input,#af-form-818764379 button,#af-form-818764379 textarea,#af-form-818764379 select{font-size:100%;} #af-form-818764379 p{color:inherit;} #af-form-818764379 select,#af-form-818764379 label,#af-form-818764379 optgroup,#af-form-818764379 option{padding:0;} #af-form-818764379 table{border-collapse:collapse;border-spacing:0;} #af-form-818764379 ul,#af-form-818764379 ol{list-style-image:none;list-style-position:outside;list-style-type:disc;padding-left:40px;} #af-form-818764379,#af-form-818764379 .quirksMode{width:374px;} #af-form-818764379.af-quirksMode{overflow-x:hidden;} #af-form-818764379{background-color:#FFFFFF;border-color:#CFCFCF;border-width:1px;border-style:none;} #af-form-818764379{display:block;} #af-form-818764379{overflow:hidden;} .af-body .af-textWrap{text-align:left;} .af-body input.image{border:none!important;} .af-body input.submit,.af-body input.image,.af-form .af-element input.button{float:none!important;} .af-body input.text{width:100%;float:none;padding:2px!important;} .af-body.af-standards input.submit{padding:4px 12px;} .af-clear{clear:both;} .af-element label{text-align:left;display:block;float:left;} .af-element{padding:5px 0;} .af-form-wrapper{text-indent:0;} .af-form{text-align:left;margin:auto;} .af-header,.af-footer{margin-bottom:0;margin-top:0;padding:10px;} .af-quirksMode .af-element{padding-left:0!important;padding-right:0!important;} .lbl-right .af-element label{text-align:right;} body { }
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Live Your Life With The End In Mind (Part Two)

by Hero Jenkins
Here’s a third rule (and the last rule I will give you): Live your life with the end in mind.
If you asked someone to write their own eulogy what they typically write down is their intentions, not their accomplishments.

A typical mother’s eulogy for herself would go something like this:Here lies __________. She always did what she thought was best for her family because she loved them so much and all she ever wanted was for them to have the best and grow up to be happy and good people.
A typical father’s eulogy would be:Here lies ______. He worked hard, maybe sometimes too much, but all he ever wanted was to provide for his family and make sure they had all that they ever needed to survive.
You see, each side had different priorities and what one side thought was important was not quite as high on the other’s list.
I used this exercise many times with friends or family who found themselves doubting what they were doing with their lives. I told them to sit down and write their own eulogy. Try it. And if you are really bold get one of your parents or your best friend to write it for you. I know it sounds morbid and perhaps it is, but it works. And if you are honest and look at that eulogy and don’t like what you see then make some changes . . . now!
We all get a kick out of watching Ebenezer Scrooge look back on his unfulfilling life of greed during Christmas, but what if the tables were turned? What if your funeral was today? What would it look like?How many people do you think would attend? Who will get up and speak about your time on this earth? What will they say?
"Here lies . . .He was my dad, she was my mom. He was my husband, brother, grandpa. She was my wife, my cousin, my friend."

Now it’s time to write the rest - not with your pen, but with your actions and your deeds... for the rest of your life!#af-form-384748288 .af-body .af-textWrap{width:98%;display:block;float:none;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body .privacyPolicy{color:#2C4F7F;font-size:11px;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body a{color:#2C4E7F;text-decoration:underline;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body input.text, #af-form-384748288 .af-body textarea{background-color:#FFFFFF;border-color:#2C4E7F;border-width:1px;border-style:solid;color:#000000;text-decoration:none;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;font-size:12px;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body input.text:focus, #af-form-384748288 .af-body textarea:focus{background-color:#FFFAD6;border-color:#030303;border-width:1px;border-style:solid;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body label.previewLabel{display:block;float:none;text-align:left;width:auto;color:#000000;text-decoration:none;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;font-size:12px;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body{padding-bottom:15px;padding-top:15px;background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:inherit;background-image:none;color:#2C4F7F;font-size:11px;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-footer{padding-bottom:15px;padding-top:15px;padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;background-color:#2C4E7F;background-repeat:repeat-x;background-position:top;background-image:url("http://forms.aweber.com/images/forms/..., sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-header{padding-bottom:10px;padding-top:10px;padding-right:10px;padding-left:10px;background-color:#2C4E7F;background-repeat:repeat-x;background-position:bottom;background-image:url("http://forms.aweber.com/images/forms/..., sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-quirksMode .bodyText{padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:2px;} #af-form-384748288 .af-quirksMode{padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;} #af-form-384748288 .af-standards .af-element{padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;} #af-form-384748288 .bodyText p{margin:1em 0;} #af-form-384748288 .buttonContainer input.submit{background-color:#2c4e7f;background-image:url("http://forms.aweber.com/images/forms/..., sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .buttonContainer input.submit{width:auto;} #af-form-384748288 .buttonContainer{text-align:right;} #af-form-384748288 body,#af-form-384748288 dl,#af-form-384748288 dt,#af-form-384748288 dd,#af-form-384748288 h1,#af-form-384748288 h2,#af-form-384748288 h3,#af-form-384748288 h4,#af-form-384748288 h5,#af-form-384748288 h6,#af-form-384748288 pre,#af-form-384748288 code,#af-form-384748288 fieldset,#af-form-384748288 legend,#af-form-384748288 blockquote,#af-form-384748288 th,#af-form-384748288 td{float:none;color:inherit;position:static;margin:0;padding:0;} #af-form-384748288 button,#af-form-384748288 input,#af-form-384748288 submit,#af-form-384748288 textarea,#af-form-384748288 select,#af-form-384748288 label,#af-form-384748288 optgroup,#af-form-384748288 option{float:none;position:static;margin:0;} #af-form-384748288 div{margin:0;} #af-form-384748288 fieldset{border:0;} #af-form-384748288 form,#af-form-384748288 textarea,.af-form-wrapper,.af-form-close-button,#af-form-384748288 img{float:none;color:inherit;position:static;background-color:none;border:none;margin:0;padding:0;} #af-form-384748288 input,#af-form-384748288 button,#af-form-384748288 textarea,#af-form-384748288 select{font-size:100%;} #af-form-384748288 p{color:inherit;} #af-form-384748288 select,#af-form-384748288 label,#af-form-384748288 optgroup,#af-form-384748288 option{padding:0;} #af-form-384748288 table{border-collapse:collapse;border-spacing:0;} #af-form-384748288 ul,#af-form-384748288 ol{list-style-image:none;list-style-position:outside;list-style-type:disc;padding-left:40px;} #af-form-384748288,#af-form-384748288 .quirksMode{width:418px;} #af-form-384748288.af-quirksMode{overflow-x:hidden;} #af-form-384748288{background-color:#F0F0F0;border-color:#EEEEEE;border-width:1px;border-style:solid;} #af-form-384748288{display:block;} #af-form-384748288{overflow:hidden;} .af-body .af-textWrap{text-align:left;} .af-body input.image{border:none!important;} .af-body input.submit,.af-body input.image,.af-form .af-element input.button{float:none!important;} .af-body input.text{width:100%;float:none;padding:2px!important;} .af-body.af-standards input.submit{padding:4px 12px;} .af-clear{clear:both;} .af-element label{text-align:left;display:block;float:left;} .af-element{padding:5px 0;} .af-form-wrapper{text-indent:0;} .af-form{text-align:left;margin:auto;} .af-header,.af-footer{margin-bottom:0;margin-top:0;padding:10px;} .af-quirksMode .af-element{padding-left:0!important;padding-right:0!important;} .lbl-right .af-element label{text-align:right;} body { }
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Live Your Life With The End In Mind (Part One)

by Hero Jenkins
Are you doing enough for your kids to make sure they grow up to be happy and healthy? Are you a good husband or wife? Do you call your mom, brother, or best friend as often as you should? I have three simple rules that should banish these thoughts forever.
Rule Number One (It’s a simple rule in concept, but admittedly more difficult to put in practice): Do as much as you can - while you can. Bear in mind that even then you won’t be completely satisfied you've done enough.
I know I may be comparing apples and oranges here but I want to make a point. One of the most memorable scenes in any movie I have ever seen comes at the end of Schindler’s List. Oskar Schindler (played by Liam Neeson), a man who saved more than eleven hundred Jews from the concentration camps, realizes that although he had done a lot... he could have done more. Through his tears he rips off his gold lapel pin and says, "...two people..." if only he'd sold it to save two more people.
I know a few parents who are like that. It doesn’t matter how much they did for their kids, they always feel that they could have done more and they're probably right. There is always more. Perhaps you could have gone without sleep and devoted every waking moment to them or never left them with a sitter while you had some alone-time with your spouse.
It’s called regret (or guilt) over having a life while at the same time having kids. Get over it. It’s a trap; everything always looks easier in hindsight. Don’t get me wrong; there is a balance to be struck. It might be more helpful to think about what would have happened if you HADN'T taken just a little time for yourself and then lost your mind. Where would you and the kids be then?
Rule Number Two: Don’t expect your kids or your loved one to acknowledge how much you've sacrificed for them. At least not right away. If you do something for someone you love do it because they are someone you love and do it without the expectation that they will ever say thank you. (You’ll live longer . . . trust me.)There was a period of time when both of my parents worked and my older sister was responsible for keeping an eye on us. My brother and I are only a couple years apart and we were terrors. We weren’t bad, just active and quite a handful. My older sister kept us safe, kept us fed, and even took us to the library, which is where I assume I developed my love for books. But we were young and didn’t even notice her sacrifices till much later in life.
So it has taken 50 years . . . Thank you, sis! (better late than never... Right?)
Our kids had a list of gripes about the way they were being raised, while they were being raised. They couldn’t understand why they had to do homework and get jobs when they were old enough. My wife had a strict rule: If you signed up for something be it soccer or glee club, you had to finish. They couldn’t stay all night at a friend’s house unless we met the parents (here’s a clue, when that’s a deal breaker, you know something was up.) Like I said, they had gripes . . . until, that is, they went away to college and found out how some of their peers were raised. Suddenly we didn’t look so bad.

Alas someone much wiser than I told me that my posts are too long and I should limit them to between 500 and 800. So you will have to hear the rest of the story tomorrow.#af-form-384748288 .af-body .af-textWrap{width:98%;display:block;float:none;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body .privacyPolicy{color:#2C4F7F;font-size:11px;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body a{color:#2C4E7F;text-decoration:underline;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body input.text, #af-form-384748288 .af-body textarea{background-color:#FFFFFF;border-color:#2C4E7F;border-width:1px;border-style:solid;color:#000000;text-decoration:none;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;font-size:12px;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body input.text:focus, #af-form-384748288 .af-body textarea:focus{background-color:#FFFAD6;border-color:#030303;border-width:1px;border-style:solid;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body label.previewLabel{display:block;float:none;text-align:left;width:auto;color:#000000;text-decoration:none;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;font-size:12px;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-body{padding-bottom:15px;padding-top:15px;background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:inherit;background-image:none;color:#2C4F7F;font-size:11px;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-footer{padding-bottom:15px;padding-top:15px;padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;background-color:#2C4E7F;background-repeat:repeat-x;background-position:top;background-image:url("http://forms.aweber.com/images/forms/..., sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-header{padding-bottom:10px;padding-top:10px;padding-right:10px;padding-left:10px;background-color:#2C4E7F;background-repeat:repeat-x;background-position:bottom;background-image:url("http://forms.aweber.com/images/forms/..., sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .af-quirksMode .bodyText{padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:2px;} #af-form-384748288 .af-quirksMode{padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;} #af-form-384748288 .af-standards .af-element{padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;} #af-form-384748288 .bodyText p{margin:1em 0;} #af-form-384748288 .buttonContainer input.submit{background-color:#2c4e7f;background-image:url("http://forms.aweber.com/images/forms/..., sans-serif;} #af-form-384748288 .buttonContainer input.submit{width:auto;} #af-form-384748288 .buttonContainer{text-align:right;} #af-form-384748288 body,#af-form-384748288 dl,#af-form-384748288 dt,#af-form-384748288 dd,#af-form-384748288 h1,#af-form-384748288 h2,#af-form-384748288 h3,#af-form-384748288 h4,#af-form-384748288 h5,#af-form-384748288 h6,#af-form-384748288 pre,#af-form-384748288 code,#af-form-384748288 fieldset,#af-form-384748288 legend,#af-form-384748288 blockquote,#af-form-384748288 th,#af-form-384748288 td{float:none;color:inherit;position:static;margin:0;padding:0;} #af-form-384748288 button,#af-form-384748288 input,#af-form-384748288 submit,#af-form-384748288 textarea,#af-form-384748288 select,#af-form-384748288 label,#af-form-384748288 optgroup,#af-form-384748288 option{float:none;position:static;margin:0;} #af-form-384748288 div{margin:0;} #af-form-384748288 fieldset{border:0;} #af-form-384748288 form,#af-form-384748288 textarea,.af-form-wrapper,.af-form-close-button,#af-form-384748288 img{float:none;color:inherit;position:static;background-color:none;border:none;margin:0;padding:0;} #af-form-384748288 input,#af-form-384748288 button,#af-form-384748288 textarea,#af-form-384748288 select{font-size:100%;} #af-form-384748288 p{color:inherit;} #af-form-384748288 select,#af-form-384748288 label,#af-form-384748288 optgroup,#af-form-384748288 option{padding:0;} #af-form-384748288 table{border-collapse:collapse;border-spacing:0;} #af-form-384748288 ul,#af-form-384748288 ol{list-style-image:none;list-style-position:outside;list-style-type:disc;padding-left:40px;} #af-form-384748288,#af-form-384748288 .quirksMode{width:418px;} #af-form-384748288.af-quirksMode{overflow-x:hidden;} #af-form-384748288{background-color:#F0F0F0;border-color:#EEEEEE;border-width:1px;border-style:solid;} #af-form-384748288{display:block;} #af-form-384748288{overflow:hidden;} .af-body .af-textWrap{text-align:left;} .af-body input.image{border:none!important;} .af-body input.submit,.af-body input.image,.af-form .af-element input.button{float:none!important;} .af-body input.text{width:100%;float:none;padding:2px!important;} .af-body.af-standards input.submit{padding:4px 12px;} .af-clear{clear:both;} .af-element label{text-align:left;display:block;float:left;} .af-element{padding:5px 0;} .af-form-wrapper{text-indent:0;} .af-form{text-align:left;margin:auto;} .af-header,.af-footer{margin-bottom:0;margin-top:0;padding:10px;} .af-quirksMode .af-element{padding-left:0!important;padding-right:0!important;} .lbl-right .af-element label{text-align:right;} body { }
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