Rival Gates's Blog, page 78

Hand Sanitizer

So my twelve year old daughter comes walking by me and I smell something very fragrant. I thought it was perfume. “She seems a little young to be wearing that?” I thought. So I asked her what fragrance she was wearing. She smiled and said it was hand sanitizer. After a moment of embarrassment I thought about it. Hand sanitizer is everywhere. They have it at grocery stores so you can wipe down your cart. They have it at gas stations so you can get rid of the smell of gas. They have it in doctor’s offices in case you come up against a germ they didn’t catch when they wiped down the furniture with sanitary wipes earlier. Even in my daughter’s back to school list, it said to bring hand sanitizer. What is going on? We have become a nation of germ crazy people. Everywhere you go they have hand sanitizer. We never had it when I was growing up. Somehow I survived and if you’re reading this, you did too. Then my doctor told me those products kill most germs but don’t usually affect viruses. Isn’t that the big argument in favor of hand sanitizer? I have also read that lack of exposure to germs makes people less tolerant of them and therefore, more susceptible to illness. I’m not against being clean. Wash your hands. Great idea. But the hand sanitizer is just too out of control. It makes you wonder how we lived without it. I guess it’s still better than my daughter wearing perfume already.

The Coach Purse

I try to be a thoughtful husband. I always remember birthdays, holidays and anniversaries. This year my anniversary came up in August and I could not think of a gift idea for the life of me. I tried for over a month but I had either already given it or it was not of interest to her. So I bit the bullet and asked her what to get. She responded by saying, “Don’t worry about it. I bought myself a Coach purse you can give me.” So I asked what a Coach purse was and I was told it was just a purse. Then I asked how much “I” spent and she said, “It was on sale.” When you aren’t given a number, it is never good! So I examined my “gift” and found it to be a rather ordinary looking purse. There was nothing special about it that differentiated it from any other purse besides all the repeats of the letter C on it. That led me to ask, “You already have a bunch of purses. You can’t even use all the ones you have now. Why do you need another one?” Her response shocked me. She said, “Everyone else had one and I felt left out.” Wow! It was like middle school all over again. I was looking at this from a utilitarian point of view when it was clearly an issue of peer pressure. In the end, the purse made her happy and that was the goal of the gift. So I decided to let it be. Then I went to the store and noticed something. Nearly every woman there had a Coach purse! One even had a Coach wallet. A family with twins went by with their double stroller and they had a Coach Diaper bag! Can I buy stock in this company? They absolutely rule the market place. There were more women carrying something Coach than wearing blue jeans. Easily 75% of the women had something Coach. It was not an isolated occurrence. Every store or mall I visited was the same way. Finally I talked to one of the women and mentioned I had bought my wife one. Then I asked her what was so special about them and her answer was, “Everyone has one. I figured I should too.” The practical part of me was floored. It was one of the most incredible examples of group-think I had ever seen. Remember back in school when everyone wore a certain brand of shoes and so you wanted them too in order to fit in? The same was true of jeans and other apparel. I thought those days were over but it would seem that meeting status quo is still relevant, particularly for women. With men the best example I could come up with was having the right car. Even that, however, is varied based on the person or demographic. The Coach purse was a universal necessity that transgressed all social classes. The sad part of it all is that in a year or so there will be some other brand that everyone has to have and there will be an expensive purse in my closet waiting for the trip to Goodwill. I wonder if women dislike feeling obliged to buy the latest trend or they look forward to it? And who starts these trends, anyway? Maybe I can convince them to carry around my book. LOL

Tree Envy

I have taken an accounting of my neighborhood and it is official. My house sits on the only lot without a tree on it. That may not sound like a big deal but I have some serious tree envy. The area where we live is recently developed. We built here because of its location near schools and our inability to find a standing house we liked. I have tried buying trees in the past. The first one died within one year. That was quite disappointing when you consider it cost several hundred dollars to buy and nearly as much to have planted. We watered it, buried spikes of some sort of nutritional stuff, kept the dog away, but it still died. My daughters even bought the little “Pine Tree in a Box” kits and tried growing their trees in clay pots, but they did not make it either. We bought another and tried again. After reading the instruction pamphlet carefully, we (I mean my wife) watered it on a regular schedule and again put fertilizer spikes around it in the ground. We watched it daily. The leaves stayed on through the spring…into the summer and finally dropped in the fall. Yes! Victory! We managed not to kill a tree! A general feeling of contentment settled over us that winter as the snow covered the ground. Then spring arrived. There were no buds on the tree in March but it was still kind of early. April came and the neighbors’ trees showed signs of life, but ours remained dormant. Maybe it was a late blooming breed? May came and it still looked like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree two weeks after the Christmas Play. It was bear with no signs of life. I called the nursery where we bought it and they suggested pruning off braches that looked dead to allow the others to grow. With hack saw in hand I approached the tree. All the limbs looked dead. So I cut off the most brittle one and watched. Weeks went by and everyone else had leaves. We did not. I cut off two more branches. After waiting again nothing happened. I called the nursery and one of their experts came out. After a full fifteen seconds he informed me that my tree was dead. How could I have lost her? She was doing so well last year? Her little leaves were blowing in the wind as her branches swayed. The nice man from the nursery was consoling me by saying that sometimes these things just happen and there is no explanation. So now we sit on a grassy lot without a tree. I tell myself that it’s not a big deal. Why do I need a tree anyway? So what if everyone else has one has one. It just makes extra work in the fall with leaves to rake. At least no one can sue me because they get in an accident saying they couldn’t see the oncoming car because of my tree. In spite of these feelings, however, I look out my window and see the leaves changing color all around me and my yard is like a giant rolling golf course. Maybe one day we’ll try again, but we just are so afraid of losing another one. In the meantime, people are driving by thinking, “Why don’t they get a tree. Everyone else has one.”

Fear of Loss

When I was in college I took a course on persuasion and one of the facts I have held onto is this: People are four times more likely to do something to avoid pain than to gain pleasure. If you think about it, the statement is true. I don’t pay my bills every month because it makes me feel so good. I do it so I don’t have late fees or get harassing phone calls at my home. My annual flu shot is not something that brings me joy. Of course there are things I do to gain pleasure. When you think about it, though, the heart of what motivates people to do things is fear. Even in dating, there is certainly a desire for pleasure but there is also the fear of being alone. Fear and fear of loss in particular is a powerful motivator. That brings me to my point. Why do people love to gamble? I am not talking about buying a lottery ticket when the jackpot reaches some record number or the ones who set $20 aside to “entertain” themselves at slots. I’m talking about people who lose their life’s savings and more in casinos and betting. For me, the fear of loss over my money more than compensates for that desire for gain. I work hard for my money and cannot stand to lose it for a thrill. Have you ever torn your room apart looking for some money you know you had on a table or in some jeans? Then multiply that amount. Gambling simply makes no sense to me. Every game in a casino has the odds in favor of the house. Still people ignore the fear of loss and gamble away even though they know they are likely to lose their money. And when they occasionally win, what do they usually turn around and do? They bet it again. Then the house wins back what you have just won. Few people walk out of the casinos on top in the money department. For these people the only thing I can figure is that their desire for gain somehow overwhelms their fear of loss. Somehow that fear is not as strong in them. Perhaps their losses have not adversely affected their quality of life. Perhaps the thrill of possibly winning is intoxicating and blocks out all other thought. Whatever the reason, I believe the fear of loss catches up with these people eventually and they feel a crash. When there are no more chips and the bank account is dry, it has to hit home. I have seen lives ruined by gambling and it is a shame. This is not a blog to degrade anyone who gambles. I just don’t see the great thrill it provides. Heck, I’m still looking for the money I lost in my room!

The Test Child

I heard on the news the other day that the average size of the American family has decreased to an all-time low and that population predictions have had to be revised. Quite frankly, the issue doesn’t affect me one way or another. This is not an attempt to influence personal decisions. What was disturbing about it was the fact that so many families out there will only have one child on which to learn. Let’s face it. The first child is the test child. They are the ones you test out all the latest potty training techniques on and try all the stuff in the parenting books. You accidently put their clothes on backward because you don’t know any better. If they drop their pacifier, you sterilize it before putting it back in the child’s mouth. As they mature, they are grounded for the smallest infractions against your rules. You go to every parent/teacher conference if for no other reason than to hear the teacher start off with compliments about your child. You record sporting events or dance recitals from terrible angles where you can’t see anything. Next, you check the sand in the playground for “items” that shouldn’t be there before letting them play. (I saw one parent with a metal detector) Then you watch your child like you’re the FBI as they frolic and watch for strange looking people hanging around. You overprotect. It’s not wrong, it’s nature. This is your first go around with this whole child thing and you want to get it right. By child number 2 the world has changed. Potty training is a matter of will power from the parent and embarrassment from the child. You ignore the parenting books because most of their “techniques” don’t work on your children. When they drop the pacifier, you rinse it off and give it back to them. The clothing issue was solved long ago unless you have a child of the opposite sex. Then you are still in for the “Why did you send your child to daycare with their clothes on backward?” letter. You ease up on the grounding after you realize all it did was make your child never want to tell you what they did wrong. As for the parent/teacher meetings; if the grades are good, you’re good to go. Someone points out that you can BUY a copy of the recital recorded by professionals where you can sort of see your child. As for the playground, you now have an older sibling to take them to the park and play with them. The strange people you watched turn out to be your neighbors watching you! You forget about the sand because you remember your own childhood. There was a stainless steel slide that was about 120 degrees in the sun that you raced up, burning your hands along the way. Then you slid down to the end which was as sharp as a razor and took several layers of skin off your back. In the end you landed in gravel! And after that harrowing experience, what did you do? Did you run to your parent or sibling? No. You raced back to the ladder to do it all again. If you are reading this, somehow you managed to survive. There’s nothing wrong with small families. If that’s what you’re comfortable with or are able to have, great. It’s just that you’ve already done the hard part. You took your lumps. With the second kid onward you can finally set the cruise control and enjoy being a parent.

The Evil Genius of Disney Channel

It started off innocently enough. My son was watching Lizzy McGwire on Disney channel. (He was mesmerized by her early on but didn’t know why) Then he added another show and another, then movies and specials until my television had been taken over by Disney programing. It was evil genius. Disney has so much money that they do not even have to run commercials for other products. Their commercials were music videos for their stars and extended ads for their own shows. My son didn’t even have a break to go to the bathroom. But, hey, they still have to show the occasional public service ad, right? They sure do, but they do it Disney style. They have neat sounding things like “Friends for Change” where we can all save the planet by pitching in to clean up just like the stars of their shows are doing in the ad. That, of course, reminds you to watch their shows. And their movies have their own actors in them which in turn make you want to watch their shows even more. Then my son outgrew Disney channel and Hillary Duff moved on to life after Disney. I thought life would improve. In stepped my oldest daughter and Hannah Montana. My wife watched the show once and said, “So basically all you need is fake blond hair and you can be a star in America.” Talk about hitting the nail on the head. My youngest daughter emulated her sister and was soon watching that and High School Musical (a movie in which there isn’t even a musical. Figure that one out.) Camp Rock and anything else with the Jonas Brothers in it. On Halloween one year I went all over town trying to find a blond wig so one of my daughters could dress as Hannah. Then they fought over who was going to dress up like her. I handed out candy that year and I swear every other girl had that same blond wig and outfit. Disney knows how to market. Before Hannah could fade away, Demi Lavato and Selena Gomez became the rage. Wizards of Waverly Place cashed in on the Harry Potter craze in the Disney way…shows, merchandise and music. It is like pre-puberty crack. Time had been measured not in minutes or days but shows. “Tomorrow night is the High School Musical sing along night” Really? I thought it was Saturday. The oldest daughter outgrew it but the youngest one is still hooked. And Disney stars need not worry about exposure after Disney is through with them. They either have a meltdown or go on “Dancing with the Stars” on ABC which is owned by…Disney! The day will come, my friends, when you’ll be watching your favorite show and realize that person you’re watching used to be on Disney Channel. They are taking over. They can’t be stopped. On a happier note, it beats watching “Teen Mom” on MTV with them and having the conversations that would follow.

Finally on Barnes & Noble!

Today’s blog is short and sweet. You can look at it as making up for all the long ones I have written. After months of trying, my book, “Quest for the Red Sapphire” is listed on Barnesandnoble.com. Soon it should be on even more sites after it makes the rounds. Along with its current position on Amazon.com this gives me broad exposure. That is the name of the game in this business and I am thrilled. Having books in the store is a whole other beast but I am working on it. Sample chapters as always are available on my web site, Rivalgates.com. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine my book would be on Barnes and Noble’s web site. It is truly an honor. To those who have never read my book, read the samples and see what you think. If you like it, then give it a shot. I have received great feedback so far and it pleases me to share my story with others. Today is a great day.

Songs That Trigger Memories

It’s strange how songs can take you to a certain place and time in your memory. I believe they are what Tony Robbins would call “Anchors”. When I hear “7 Bridges Road” by the Eagles I remember learning to drive with my late mother. She had an amazing voice and had studied voice in University. Aside from singing it with me, she would break down the harmonies into what range each person had. We would drive for 4 or 5 hours at a time and always stop for a treat along the way. Whenever I hear that song I think of those times. Being a youngest child I never felt particularly special to my father. We had a cottage on Lake Erie when I was growing up and one time I was allowed to travel alone with him in his T-top mustang down to the lake. The sun was shining, the engine roared, the scenery was majestic and for once I felt like the special one. Just a boy still, I rode in the front seat with my hand out the window. He played a Roger Whittaker tape for me and we sang the song “Mamie Blue” over and over again. That song and that memory are still special to us both. When my youngest daughter was born I was told by my work that I could have no time off and in fact had to be at work at 8 AM or forfeit my job. Being the considerate daughter she was, she was born during the night and I stayed up with my wife until it was time to leave her at the hospital and go to work. When I turned on the car the Phil Collins song, “You’ll be in my Heart” from the movie Tarzan was playing. I sat and listened to it with my little girl in mind and the words fit perfectly. After that it became her song. When she cried in the car we would all sing it and she would be quiet. Even now, when she’s down I will sing it to her. When I would clean house I always blared music. It seemed to make the time pass more quickly. When my son Kevin was little he always wanted my attention when I was vacuuming. Then the R.E.M. song “What’s the Frequency Kenneth” came on. I stopped cleaning and picked him up. He placed his arms around my neck as I danced around and sang “What’s the Frequency Kevin”. Kevin would add the “uh-huh” part to the song. We laughed and danced. I wonder if he still remembers that almost twenty years later? In college I worked night security in the dorms. One night a girl came down to the study hall from her room and sat down at the piano. She proceeded to play the piano piece for the Journey song “Faithfully”. She repeated it over and over in perfect synchronization with the song in my head and began to cry more and more. With no one near the desk, I walked into the study hall and asked if she was alright. Through her weeping she answered that she was fine and that the song helped her work through difficult moments in her life. She played for half an hour and then returned to bed. To this day I hear that piece and wonder what had her so sad. Finally, when my world would come crashing down as a boy I would curl up in a corner of my room and cry. My Mother would enter and hug me. Then she would sing the Carpenters, “Close To You” as she stroked my hair. She never had to say anything else, but I instantly felt special again. I miss her so. Songs can be very powerful and moving. Tell me of a song that holds a special place for you.

The Daddy Daughter Dance

I was looking at a display case in my house and saw picture after picture taken by professional photographers from past Daddy-Daughter Dances. I have two beautiful daughters. The dance has been held every year around Valentine’s Day. My oldest daughter is nearly five years older than her sister and a middle child to boot. She would look forward to this for months. It was her time to feel special and appreciated. I always seemed to have a hard time getting off work in time and then hurrying home. Then I would get my suit on and get ready to go. Meanwhile my date for the evening had been ready for hours and had eaten. She knew I would never get off in time to keep my promise about going out to dinner beforehand. After a couple of poorly lit photos at the door, we would leave. The doorway to the dance was always backed up with couples waiting for their photo to be taken. You would think one time a photographer could have said, “Hey, the wind messed up your hair!” But no, never a word was said and I looked goofy year after year while my daughter looked angelic. Entering the ballroom (otherwise known as the cafeteria on school days) there was a mirrored ball on the ceiling and candy hearts in dishes on the red plastic covered folding tables. By the time I had fetched us each a cup of punch, my disciplined daughter had already picked a place at a table. We would sit for a few minutes as the girls met in an ever growing crowd on the floor and talked about their dresses and whatever else young girls talk about. My daughter would sigh and look at me with her big brown eyes and smile. I would pat her on the hand and tell her to join her friends. I didn’t need to say that twice. Soon she was gone and I was alone. After a while I had the routine down. I would talk to the other dad’s. There was the one who was a police officer, the salesman, the part time drag racer, the railroad worker and a host of others. We all swapped stories and tried to keep ourselves busy as the girls mostly danced together. One dance it was nearly impossible to get out of was the Chicken Dance. Whoever came up with it must have had a strange sense of humor. I saw a video once of us doing it and I must say, I am glad it never went viral! Soon my daughter would come back to leave her shoes at the table and I would join her for slow dances. She loved it when I would twirl her; even if it didn’t fit in with the dance. When the dance ended, my date did not. I said we could go anywhere she wanted to finish our date. She always chose the Starbucks inside the Barnes and Noble bookstore. I am not a coffee drinker and she was a little young but we discovered Starbuck makes the best hot chocolate in the world. Two $5 rice crispy treats later we were ready to look at books. She headed to Young Adult and I went to Fantasy/Science Fiction. We always seemed to leave with something new. Her last dance was my youngest daughter’s first. My youngest daughter liked the hot chocolate but it wasn’t her idea of fun. The next year it was just my youngest daughter and me. After the dance she wanted to go to the frozen yogurt shop where I would tell her she could have as much frozen yogurt and toppings as she could eat. She took full advantage of that. Suddenly the rice crispy treats didn’t seem so expensive. It didn’t matter, though. For that night my daughter was a princess and in all good stories, the princess gets what she wants. Now the dances are done. The girls are older, and I have a cabinet of photos in which my ties are crooked every time. I miss those times. Now they only live on the wall and in my memory.

The Trouble With Parking Lots

There is something I have never understood…parking lots. By definition, they are a place to park cars. If only it were that simple. It seems like people enter parking lots in their cars and totally forget the rules of the road. They speed down the lanes and risk accidents in order to secure a parking spot 4 places closer to the door of the retail establishment. Stop signs are treated as suggestions. And what is with the angled lines in the parking slots. Nothing is more frustrating than looking for a spot at a busy mall only to find it is in a lane going the other way. Then you have to drive around and try to claim it before someone else does. Some people turn it into a race. It’s just a parking spot. Why can’t all the lines be straight like they used to be, anyway? Wasn’t that a happier time? You could come from the left or you could come from the right. Either way you came, you could pull into the spot. That brings up the next problem: people who either do not know how to park or simply do not care. Take for example, the person with the shiny car or truck who parks in the middle of two spots. What that person is saying is, “Hey, my vehicle is so precious that I am willing to waste space in order for no one to touch it.” Don’t you just hope a bird leaves a big fat dropping on the windshield of that vehicle? I can’t be the only one to think this. When did parking become so difficult? One person can’t stay in the lines so everyone else must park at the edge of their spot on down the row. Once you make it into your slot, there always seems to be a bumper hanging in your area or worse, the dreaded trailer hitch sticking out a foot and a half from their truck. When you pull in, you can’t see it any more over your own hood. So all you can do is pull in the least amount possible and pray that hunk of metal doesn’t go through your grill. I’m surprised more accidents between cars and people don’t happen. People in parking lots act oblivious to the danger around them. They walk out in front of you and just expect that you will see them. Well, what if you are searching for a parking spot and you don’t see them? These pedestrians act like they are unable to be harmed. News flash: If a car and a person collide, the car always wins. Then you try to leave and your reverse lights are on. The same people walk behind your car like cattle wandering in a meadow. Can they not see the lights? A driver can’t see the person until they are in the rearview mirror and by then it could be too late. It makes you want to get back on the open road where there is at least the semblance of order.