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Showing posts from 2018

Firm Father or Daddy?

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I've written before that messes are a big part of my life, as I spend much of my day cleaning up all sorts of toys, food, etc. It comes with the territory of kids. But lately I have been finding myself spending a lot of energy trying to make sure the kids don't  make messes in the first place (so I don't have to clean them up, or enforce them cleaning up, which is another beast altogether). Sometimes I worry, however, that I am breeding OCD, type-A people that won't be comfortable with things out of order. This is especially true in our kitchen/dining area, where I have always been pretty adamant about keeping things clean. Yesterday, Waverly was eating lunch and tried to switch chairs. If there is one child I am not  worried about becoming OCD, it's definitely her -- messes are her comfort zone . Well, as she moved from the outside chair to the inside, she accidentally fell between the two and onto the floor. In the process, she flipped over her lunch plate, and

Determined

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I used to be a pretty determined guy on a skateboard. I would try tricks for hours, endless attempts, over and over. Usually my friends would stand on, watching, often video taping the tries . As I've scanned those old clips, I've apologized for making them do that; but at the time, all I wanted was to land that trick. Even though I probably took it too far, I look back on that time as character-developing -- it's good to be persistent, and skateboarding was where I learned that. Now, an older Rick who still skateboards has chilled out a bi t. I've learned that beating my body and getting frustrated over a skateboard trick isn't as important as it used to be. It makes my sessions more relaxing, but sometimes I lament the fervor with which I used to skate. But sometimes this relaxed approach to boardsports goes a little too far. Sometimes you need  to push yourself, and today was one such day. Glove box fix for a broken toe. I broke my toe about a month ago

Soul Session

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Point Dume never disappoints. Even on flat days, the cove is beautiful enough to captivate and inspire. I've only been three times, however, but each one was enjoyable, despite tiny surf the first two. My last surf session was a welcome turnaround, with head-high-plus sets. But sometimes good waves will show you things about yourself you'd rather not see, and on this last Dume day, I had one such session. Usually when I surf I'm the guy on the outside, catching the leftovers. I'm not very competitive, and popular breaks tend to get crowded with people that will jump right in front of you to catch a wave, and then get mad at you for being in their way. I just don't like to deal with that, so I paddle where it looks half-decent and let the current take me where it will. But during this last Point Dume session, something changed. I paddled right to the top of the lineup (This is usually highly offensive in the surf world, but Malibu is its own beast, and there u

Legacy

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I've been thinking more the last couple of years about a legacy , and leaving something that exists beyond myself. This has usually manifested itself in creative projects -- songs and stories I want to write that I hope future generations will enjoy. Naturally, this can be a daunting task, as so much content is created every day that really only the best of the best is ever remembered long term, right? And then I thought about the faraway future, hundreds and thousands of years from now...what art from today, this century, this millennia, will even be around anymore? Little to none. The thought brings the whole house of creation down in a lackluster smash  of futility. Is this desire to create for something beyond me even right? I'm sure it's natural, to want to be remembered for something you did, but is it biblical? -- Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves tre

Sunset Rekindled

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I used to really love surfing where Sunset Blvd  and the Pacific Coast Highway meet. It's a great spot with easy breaking waves, free parking and is easily accessible from town (just a mile or two past Santa Monica). You can get that marvelous Malibu rock break without driving an hour to the pier , or beyond, making it one of my favorites in years past. Though I have often championed the spot, until yesterday, I hadn't surfed there in about five years! The last time I was there was for a failed "sunrise at sunset" surf session we attempted. On that fateful morning, the waves lapped against the rocks at the monstrous height of about twelve inches, so we headed to Dockweiler instead. (I actually wrote about the whole thing in a book chronicling my seven years of falling in love with surfing in Los Angeles. I'm seeking representation/publishing, if you know anyone... wink, wink .) Yesterday I had a couple hours to try and catch a short-term Malibu swell we were g

An Aged Victory

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Here is another post on aging and skateboarding . I hope you're not sick of them, but if you are...deal with it (there is one of those perks to getting older). I recently watched a video on Tony Hawk turning 50 , and performing 50 tricks that he either invented or popularized. Here it is, for your viewing pleasure: The part about this that struck me was when he said he adjusted his skating to keep going. Such a simple concept, but so true, right? If I can't jump down big sets of stairs anymore, but still want to skateboard, find another place to do it. I suppose the first post about this was the baby steps of this transition (though it still didn't end well), and if I'm honest, this has kind of been a long time coming. It is still difficult to see these awesome skate spots and dream up tricks I used to be able to do, and couple probably do again if I wanted to hurt myself, but is that really enjoying the sport, or just prolonging the inevitable? So today I to

Redemption

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Years ago I had a memorable session on Black Friday. It was an unexpected huge day at Dockweiler, with offshore winds that blew back white caps like snow flurries. The water was glassy and it rained, the gentle rolling clouds only adding to the epic waves we were riding. I faced fears that day, though unfortunately, I caved when the big ones came. That session has always stuck out in my mind, and every Black Friday , I find myself wondering if it will ever return. Another epic session, another chance at redemption. Well, this must be the year, because yesterday, I had one such session. Los Angeles has been mostly flat the last several weeks, but like a Thanksgiving gift, we are receiving a nice little swell, directly hitting the Angelino shores. My brother-in-law was in town, and he is always down for a surf, so I know I had an extra reason to paddle out. (A couple springs ago, while we were in Charleston, SC, he came down to visit and got me out in very  cold, sloppy surf for two d

Band Aid

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My kids really love getting band aids. Maybe it's an art thing, or something sort of elusive but still somewhat attainable, that attracts them to band aids, but the whole thing is kind of ridiculous to me. When we found My Little Pony  bandages at the dollar store, it was a practically a race for whoever could get hurt first to claim one. Every "booboo" is a chance, even if it doesn't warrant one, and trust me: most of them don't deserve the prize. They often come to me with bruises and claim a band aid will make them feel better. Usually I say no, I need to see blood (too morbid?). I should probably just give it to them, but I don't want them to be too sensitive to pain, since they will likely be pro skateboarders , and need to get used to getting hurt. What I end up coming back to is that they should be happy when they don't need a band aid -- it means they didn't get hurt! This doesn't register, and today the band aid dance reminded me of this

Whippershappers

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I'm pretty good at being an  old man . Maybe better than being a young one, some would say. What I mean is, things like getting going slow, waking up early, enjoying a scotch on the rocks and watching  The Andy Griffith Show  come naturally to me.  They always have. I used to love piddling around with my Grandfather, lazily going to lunch or shopping for cars (which he would take months to purchase, to the chagrin of the salesmen he made sure to spend  lots  of time talking to). Those were great relationship-building days, by the way, which I think a slower life lends itself well to. The thing is, though, I'm not really old. I'm only 32. But since  moving to a big city , and experiencing a different slice of life out here, I am finding new ways to feel old. Things move faster here, which is a given -- I can deal with that. I still drive slow and consider it my mission to slow this city down. People are more career-focused -- I've been there and can relate. They often

Old

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I wrote recently about my struggles as an aging skateboarder. Tonight I went out for my first session since the one that inspired that post, and was dismayed to find a new thing to feel old about... There is always a certain hesitation when approaching a new skatepark -- Is it built well? What kind of skaters frequent it? Are they nice? Will I be disturbing the homeless man living behind the quarter pipe if I skate too early? Tonight I tried Hazard Skatepark in east Los Angeles, and felt that familiar anxiety as I walked up. It was moderately populated, and had a very unique layout. But I immediately felt different in a few ways, all leading up to one blaring observation -- I'm kind of old. I wear a helmet most of the time now, mostly because I have two kids and my wife reminds me that I need to be a good example for them (as well as keep my brain intact). This headpiece right away sets me apart from about 99% of skaters at the typical skatepark in Los Angeles, because most

Surfing Will Show You

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I used to write about surfing  often, because I think there are so many life lessons buried within the sport. The ocean is so big and you are just a small speck, trying to enjoy and appreciate its bounty -- it's ripe for existential thought. (I'm actually writing a book on it. If you'd like to take a look at the current draft, let me know.) But sometimes these lessons are things you may rather not know about yourself. They say marriage is a mirror , revealing both the good and the bad, and even a choppy ocean can reflect just as well sometimes. Since moving back to California, my surf days have increased four-fold, and on a recent trip to a Malibu break, I was having a pretty decent day with a couple friends. The waves were 4-6 feet, but the swell was weak, and so the waves were only mediocre. I had caught a few, and a little set was rolling in. As the wall built and darkened, it looked to me like a closeout. "Take it, Mitchell," I told my friend, in what coul

Skating on Borrowed Time...

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Sometimes I feel like I'm skating on borrowed time. I am 32 (and a half) now, and it is beginning to feel a little too old to skate. But how could this be?! Skateboarding has been such a huge part of my life, and still brings me so much joy; but there is this one thing that has been just getting to me lately about the sport...I keep getting hurt! Three years ago I made a pretty good skate video that I'm still proud of. I pushed myself and learned a lot of new tricks. I was progressing at a sport most kids drop after high school...into my thirties! Even after the movie was finished, I kept skating and shooting, preparing for the next video. Then we moved, and my recreational life slowed down. I started working a lot, skating when I could, usually at the school I grew up skating , piddling around on ledges and manual pads. But then I broke my arm -- my first broken bone after fifteen years of skateboarding! The recovery was speedy thanks to some faith-filled prayer, and I w

Nice Things

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I resigned the notion of owning nice things a while ago...kids just destroy stuff. They can't help it. Not that I am just letting them galavant around the house with tennis racquets in their hands while I listlessly watch on. But something in their nature is destructive. Maybe it is the fact that they don't understand monetary value, or perhaps they just don't have full control of their bodies yet. I don't fault them for it, but I try hard to pad the damage as much as I can. Here is a good example: Today we were walking to a park and Waverly stepped on my sandal. It broke. It was just an accident and may have broken tomorrow with someone else, but for some reason it broke when she  stepped on it. Yeah, my sandals are a few years old and maybe this was just coincidental, but have you ever known anyone in life that this kind of thing just happens to? Like they throw a rock and it breaks a window, even if the nearest window is in the opposite direction? I have, and I

At the Show

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Like many folks, I spent most of my middle and high school years listening to punk music . Christian punk music, really. Most people grow out of this phase and get into hippie jam bands or classic rock in college, and then move on to country or pop or something as they mature. My musical tastes have matured, but I'm just not one to leave a musical genre behind, and so I still listen to punk and ska like when I was a kid. (The one exception to this is rap-rock ...I've pretty much abandoned that short-lived phase of my life.) And so when Slick Shoes , one of my high school favorites, announced that they were recording a live record nearby, I had to go. The problem was, only about two of my friends still listen to this stuff, and they live out of the state. So I had to go alone. Now, maybe this isn't really a big deal, but it's just more fun to go things with other people, you know? Even something like watching a movie -- where you don't talk to anyone for most of i

Homemaker

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I became a stay-at-home dad back in 2014, when our daughter Ellie was born. I worked for a few months and then got a job as a property manager, where I could work from home and take care of our baby girl. It suits me well, but to be honest, it was an adjustment, mostly because of societal norms. Being the only guy at the park, surrounded by female nannies and moms is difficult. Watching my friends succeed at work or in their businesses can be even more trying. At first I really struggled with my role in the family as a provider, not financially (though I have always worked freelance or part-time), but in other ways. Kids need a dad who is there and available, for fun, education, trauma. An emotionally available father is a powerful and rare thing I think, not because dads don't desire it, but because it is considered odd. I went back to work for a year to give Katie the experience I had, but could never make enough for our family to live well. Talk about a blow to your masculine

Privilege

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We recently moved to a very "urban" part of town, and I am constantly struck by how privileged I was growing up. It has been hitting me more and more, which is one of the reasons we wanted to raise our kids in the big city -- they need to see something other than middle-class white their whole lives. The process has been difficult in ways, and uncomfortable, but I think the benefits outweigh the struggle. First, homelessness is rampant in Los Angeles. Tents are everywhere and our kids ask about them. "Are they camping in the park?" they ask. "They live there," I respond, prompting a gratefulness for our cozy apartment with a solid roof over our heads. At a recent trip to the DMV , a homeless man walked right up to the trashcan and pulled out a quarter-eaten hot dog, taking a few bites before walking away. I can't imagine that being a reality in my life, but it is to a lot of people, and we need to know that and relate to them in some way. Second,

How to Take Your Kids to the DMV

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One of the most difficult parts of stay-at-home life is taking your kids on normal errands. Going to the grocery store or Target are big productions, as opposed to single life, when you just went when you wanted, ran in and got out before your meter ran out of time. Now it takes about 15-20 minutes just to get the kids in the car, making sure you have water, snacks and diapers. You search for that cool shopping cart that looks like a race car and has two seats for both kids, otherwise one has to walk, which is another thing to think about while shopping. You pray the whole time that no one has to go to the bathroom, because that is not only an interruption, but getting a shopping cart in the stall and keeping your youngest from playing with the toilets are no easy task... And so you can imagine that a more difficult task, something arduous for even a single person with loads of time on his or her hands, is nearly impossible with kids. Well, recently we moved to a new state and had t