G'day

In my profile on Facebook there are six children listed as mine. I specify that only two of them are my biological children. The other four are children I have helped raise but with whom I have very limited contact or in the case of the two youngest girls – no contact at all.

One of the most discomforting things about Facebook is that, depending on its useage, it can render important relationships trivial; easily stripping words of their meaning. Unlike business networking sites like Linked-in, for example, where business contacts are labelled connections; on Facebook, the merest of acquaintances can be a friend, sibling or parent if the user wishes them to be.

So when I listed these children as mine I was very cautious for two reasons – I no longer lay claim to the title of parent, a word that should be considered a verb more than a noun (if you aren’t actively parenting then you aren’t actually a parent) and I have no wish to offend the biological parents of these children.

I do however love these children, who have become estranged from me, as my own. And like all declarations of true love – I am happy to shout it from the rooftops.

Shoshana

Aaaaaaaah Shoshie. I’m a little saddened I didn’t get to talk at Shoshie’s Bat Mitzvah like I did at J’s (Shosh’s brother) Bar Mitzvah,  but you know, they were probably right in Shoshana’s case, my speech like this posting, would have seemed more like a Celebrity Roast than a tribute. Let me start this right and say that Shosh has grown up to be an absolutely wonderful woman. She really has blossomed. I can apply almost as many positive adjectives as I know to Shosh’s character and be spot-on with them.  She is smart, caring, loving, generous, beautiful, sensitive… oh gosh…  she’s really just a sweetheart… But that wasn’t always the case.

When Deb (my ex-wife) and I went to the interview for me to get my Green Card , I recall them asking how I was getting along with the kids, and I said, well Jacobs’s a piece of cake, we just got along from day one… Shosh, on the other hand… is going to be a challenge.

If Jacob was the energizer bunny Shosh was the off-the-scale destructo tornado. The most willful, conniving, bad-tempered crazy child ever. We would have to stand at the door and hold it closed whenever she was in time-out, which was frequently. We even considered buying an external lock for her bedroom door… I kid you not.  She went way over the top with everything; not only would she willfully disobey any requests, she would taunt you about it, she had tantrums that were so wild­­­­; (Shosh I ask to bear all this in mind when you’re baby-sitting your two younger brothers!); tantrums that were so out-of-control that we’d have to pick her up and man-handle her into her bedroom. Have you ever seen the cartoon character Taz? That was Shosh.  She tested me in every way possible, she would do mean things just to get at me, she would hit punch and scream she would deliberately cause friction between her dad, her mom and me …just for fun, my goodness did I have to earn her trust.

Don't be fooled by that smile :)

Here’s where I take my hat off to Deb. Shosh could easily have been a relationship destroyer – she did everything she could to make it as difficult as possible for us, but Deb stood by me one hundred percent. I know from experience in another relationship how difficult that can be and know how crucial it is to the success of the relationship – Deb always backed me up all the way and never questioned my motives, everything was always out in the open and I’m very grateful for that. She really paved the way for the relationship Shosh and I have today, which is nowhere near as close as I’d like it to be, but is loving nevertheless.

I remember always thinking to myself that Shosh needs consistency – always be consistent, when she is nasty and cruel, be kind and patient in return. Keep giving to her and she will come around. Now, I wasn’t always successful, there were definitely times when I lost my temper (and I had to have a time-out) but generally speaking she got the best part of me. I think there were two main turning points in the relationship I have with Shosh.  After about three years of living together and Shosh being an absolute biatch… I’d finally had it, I can’t recall the exact incident, it was probably something trivial, but it was enough that it was the last straw for me. It happened one morning, I was driving J and Shosh to school immediately after the incident,  as I drove I was looking in the rear vision mirror at Shosh and said “ I love you very much, and I always want to do what is right for you but you’re always so nasty and mean to me,” I was near tears, “but I can’t do it anymore Shosh, I’m not going to keep being nice to you and care for you if you’re going to treat me this way. If you treat me badly I’m going to treat you badly. I don’t want to, I love you. But I can’t be treated like this anymore.” Shosh said nothing, got out at the turnaround and marched off to school. I wasn’t hopeful. But I thought the time was right, that she needed to be called out – sometimes you just have to take risks and I know this was a big one, but we knew each other pretty well by then…. and she knew I’d never be mean to her , she just needed to know how upset I was.

Well, from that day to this, Shosh has been nothing short of angelic with me. Talk about doing a one-eighty!  Im so unbelievably happy she chose to hang in there with me, those years of patience and caring have really paid off for us. What it comes down to, is that you really have to earn your stripes with Shosh, she’s not going to lie down, give you her heart and wish for the best; its an excellent quality to have. Very sensible.  In the years following we developed a strong loving relationship …which brings me to the second turning point : she would let me sit for hours with her when in her young schooling years she had trouble reading. She’d still throw every excuse in the world to get out of doing it, but in the end she stuck with it. Through all the tears and frustration we pushed our way through didn’t we baby?

Shosh J Me and Baxter

Through all of my challenges of late Shosh has been the one most consistent with me. I’m not saying she took my side in the war, hmmm …. lets just call her Switzerland. She’s always been kind to me and always has a smile for me, and I can’t tell her how much that has meant some days.

What a young lady she has turned out to be…quite extraordinary, its hard to believe now but Shosh struggled academically when she was younger. That willpower of hers is amazing, to get  to where she is now is remarkable : from remedial reader and struggled with math too (if I remember rightly) to honors list. She is an incredible girl! Its so hard to imagine that Shosh was ever a difficult child, to know her now you wouldn’t even think it possible – she just doesn’t have that in her anymore  – thank God! I can’t begin to say how grateful I am that she’s around. She is fabulous with her brothers and I can tell you, they, like me, love her with all their hearts. I know she will be loyal and selfless to all who are lucky enough to call her friend. She is funny and always happy, such a joy in these times. Recently she has shown a natural bent for poetry – keep going Shosh its good stuff – really.

I miss seeing you daily and wish things could be different. Let’s try to make time and see each other more? You are a ray of sunshine. I love you very much.

In my profile on Facebook there are six children listed as mine. I specify that only two of them are my biological children. The other four are children I have helped raise but with whom I have very limited contact or in the case of the two youngest girls – no contact at all.

One of the most discomforting things about Facebook is that, depending on its useage, it can render important relationships trivial; easily stripping words of their meaning. Unlike business networking sites like Linked-in, for example, where business contacts are labelled connections; on Facebook, the merest of acquaintances can be a friend, sibling or parent if the user wishes them to be.

So when I listed these children as mine I was very cautious for two reasons – I no longer lay claim to the title of parent, a word that should be considered a verb more than a noun (if you aren’t actively parenting then you aren’t actually a parent) and I have no wish to offend the biological parents of these children.

I do however love these children, who have become estranged from me, as my own. And like all declarations of true love – I am happy to shout it from the rooftops.

Jacob

Hairy J - loved it when he had the hairbear bunch look

Help! Help! Its The Hair Bear Bunch

I have a son whose full name is J. David Houghton. That’s David, or Baby David if you prefer. To me, there is only one J – the chubby-faced, tear-away child I met at a Starbucks nearly eleven years ago. J was the happiest child I have ever met , he was nearly never without that huge face-covering smile of his. From morning to night for over six years that smile lit up my life… well… if I could get him to stand still for long enough to see it. If there was ever a child that should have been born with a sign – a huge neon sign with lettering in ultra-violet multi-coloured, chasing LEDs – that read ADHD tied around their neck it was J.  The masters of understatement in Early Childhood Land might have called him an “on-the-go” child. “On-the-go” my bum; he was the frickin’ energizer bunny on speed. One of those child leashes that are seldom seen in today’s politically correct world would never have held J – his energy demanded an elephant gauge chain somehow surgically implanted. He made Roger Rabbit look like a morphine-addled geriatric. You get the picture. . He was the child that demanded to be thrown in the air, to be chased, to be joined outside to kick or throw the ball . We were always at the park playing together – that was J. That boy bounced, jumped, scrambled, flipped, clambered, spun, kicked and ran, especially ran, his way through his early years.

One Hanukkah, Deb (his Mom) and I bought J an electric scooter – he became a child possessed. He rode that thing from dusk til dawn in the freezing weather, nothing, not frostbite, hunger or sleep deprivation stopped that boy from riding it. For a while there I swear he dreamt that scooter. His energy and passion were boundless.

Hammy Jacob

On a family day out at Bumbershoot one year, it was J who asked to be taken into the mosh pit of the packed evening concert. I’m guessing there were about 25,000 people there.  He was the only six year old in the mosh-pit. He was the only one under eighteen in there. His mom was reluctant at first but she eventually allowed him to be hoisted up onto my shoulders. As we walked into the crowd he wrapped his arms tightly around my face so I could only just see, his little body trembling with both fear and anticipation. Well, once he felt safe, it didn’t take long for him to realize he had the best “seat” in the house and perched up there he could see the band! J began bouncing around like a jack-rabbit no-doubt mimicking the thrashing teenagers, whilst keeping time by drumming his hands on my head, his screams and laughter ringing in my ears. We stayed there for ages and when we did return he convinced his sister to try it – he’d loved it so much. She became the only four year old in the mosh-pit… and she loved it just as much. There was a small downside to our partying, both of them did ask on the way home why girls were throwing underwear on the stage – I’ve news for you, there’s no good answer for that question.

Likewise it was J who took me to school one day. Not on a parent’s career day. No, of course not.  I was his show-and-tell Australian. I took along maps and some books on native animals but mostly what the class wanted was to hear me talk. This was all very passé to J, but he was very happy and proud anyway.

You know, I could tell hundreds of stories about J , about the day he nearly got run over; about his forays into fencing and soccer and baseball and dance (nice tights dude); about his very brief flirtation with cricket (the sport); about me throwing the baseball too hard (sorry J) ..hey but now you can catch just about anything huh? about our family trips to Ohio,San Diego and Italy; about school dances, events and trips when I chaperoned; about the day we caught the fly-ball at Safeco and watched Lou throw a classic wobbly; about how we used to sneak into the seats above first base; about how proud I was at parent/teacher meetings (J always got a good report); about my one and only baseball card, which was given to me by J – my Edgar is still treasured; about how honored and touched I was to be invited to speak at his Bar Mitzvah; about his many, many wonderful qualities his intelligence, his persistence – go the Tuba, his generosity and kind nature.

The cricket phase

But what I really want to say to J is how much of a hole there is in my life since we’ve not seen each other over the past four years. I miss you. I’m sorry that relationship breakdowns suck so much. I’m sorry I’ve been all over the place. I’m sorry that I wasn’t always there for you. You are very important to me and I love you. And I hope that before you leave the nest and begin your adult life we can see each other sometimes and you can tell me what’s happening with you.

When J and I met for the very first time at Starbucks he ran at me and leapt on me giving me the biggest bear-hug and smack on the lips. We loved each other from word go.

Me and my boys – hopefully we are all Forever guys.

Those of you who are long time readers of this blog will know that it is little more than my personal diary, but it didn’t start out that way. It began as a journal of sorts about the making of a web-vid comedy series I had written – hence the name of the blog. From day one I wanted this to be as forthright as I could make it, boasting that I wouldn’t censor any relevant detail from the record (which of course is not possible – even language choices are a form of censorship) however my intentions were good. The series didn’t end up coming together as fast as I had anticipated and there were a few casualties along the way. Rather than call it quits, give up on the project and walk away I chose to continue writing down my thoughts.

The question for myself became: why continue using this medium? It’s just as easy to write freehand in a notebook that could be kept for my own cathartic purposes. Writing about intensely personal issues/feelings and broadcasting them via the internet is not easy besides which its an incredibly arrogant act – I mean who the hell wants to read my story anyway?  Its not as though I’m writing about a privileged life here. This aint no “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous”. Its been a notably shitty few years for me, which have featured –– business failure, long periods of unemployment, physical injury, betrayal, bouts of depression, relationship breakdowns, loss of loved ones, financial disaster (pending foreclosure and bankruptcy) and emotional instability; its been a right bowl of cherries.

In truth, I considered packing the blog in, I was beginning to depress myself, never mind the poor bastards who had the misfortune of reading my misery. Then quite a while back I began talking with D – a guy I’d known from days long ago when I used to work at The Tube Club in Brisbane. I was seventeen and a student at UQ. We didn’t really know each other back then, I knew of D, he was a regular at the club and good mates with a bloke who used to work at the club with me. D told me he had started to read the blog as he had an interest in film making, but continued to read as the subject matter evolved to include my personal hardships. He told me of his own personal trials and said he thought it important for guys like us (with a tendency towards melancholia) to have an outlet. Then he said the all-important phrase “…your blog helped me.”

From that day the blog has taken on new meaning for me. I suppose it’s a source of empathy for those who, like me, have been down on their luck recently; but as importantly my wish is that it becomes a source of hope for those people too. We’re all in this together, those who aren’t making ends meet, who are out of work, who are in pain, the injured, the heartbroken, the seemingly beyond help.

I searched online to find a similar blog, and didn’t really find one. There are heaps of self-improvement blogs and life-hacking sites that range from everyday solutions to the mystical. They tend to place the burden of responsibility directly on the shoulders of the individual, and while this is partially valid, its not always helpful to someone whose situation seems overwhelming or whose difficulties have arisen due to a drastic change in circumstances.

There was no blog I could find that consisted of the simple stories of a man trying to get by. And there are millions of us! Guys in their middle-age who need to re-train because the job they’d always done no longer exists. There are entire industries that no longer exist. Guys for whom facing themselves in the mirror each morning is a challenge or finding the motivation to complete another 10 job applications is daunting. Guys who’ve lost face, family, friends and loved ones because of a world wide disaster – its a  travesty that the destruction of peoples lives can be diminished to a three letter acronym –  GEC (Global Economic Crisis)

Men aren’t generally good at the self-help group thing, we’re happy to join interest groups and clubs; but asking us to admit to a problem? Nuh-uh.

So here it is I’m laying it all out on a plate. You’ll get it all – my bad days and good, my loves and loathing’s, my reminiscences and plans for the future, my successes and failures.

I have no clue how many people read this blog… Ive never tracked any stats at all, I haven’t even set it up properly so people can subscribe or make comments. All I know is that you’re reading, for whatever reason, and I’m glad you are. Thanks.