One great thing is that, when I'm dead and gone, my books with all if my notes scribbled in the margins will remain. Whether anyone has second-hand stories about me, or whether I am completely forgotten, my children, my grandchildren, and hopefully my great-grandchildren will know what I read and what I thought about those works. In those pages they will get to know a man that no one else has ever had the privrledge of knowing. 

So today Julian tells me, "Look daddy, my skin is so soft."  Problem is, he wasn't touching his leg. 

Oddly, I keep getting advertisements popping up web pages wanting me to meet Jewish singles. I have no problem with Jews (although I am an atheist), but the whole dating thing is just annoying. I find it hilarious that I am being targeted as being religious. I find it ridiculous that I am being targeted as single. 

I prefer to look at the world, and ever-increasingly the universe, through the lense of curiosity and inquiry. Dogma has no place in my life. Surely, dogma only finds comfort with the spineless and feeble-minded. Stay away from  it at all costs; instead, search and search with the understanding that you will merely come to greater understanding as your questions become more profound. Embrace the small surprises that you come across through your research, and never falter in your constant love of knowledge about the world. 

As a father, I want what is best for my children. As a husband, I want what is best for my wife. As a teacher, I want what is best for my students. And as an individual, I want what is best for me. Unfortunately, these four ideals seldom coexist in harmony. 

I like beer. In fact, unlike it much that I've begun brewing my own. Maya thinks I'm crazy and Jukian likes the tubing. So basically, I have a more typical child who understands that too much beer is bad, and an autistic child who doesn't even consider the beer; he just likes the pipes. I don't knowing that is good or bad. I just know that friends seem to like the beer. I like making the beer. I like sharing the beer. I like drinking the beer. After all, it helps me deal with my kids and our broken stuff. 

This week I have learned that I don't like people coming into our house and breaking our stuff. It is a valuable lesson that I am trying to deal with in a way that doesn't make me out to be a jerk because I don't want a bunch of broken stuff (that was recently very good stuff) strewn throughout my house. 

1976

I have find memories of the summer of 1976. I was five, and life was rather carefree, for the most part. I would visit my dad every other weekend, and I was with my mother the rest of the time. I loved baseball. I played with my little brother, who was only a year and a half old. I remember the smell of the smokehouse nearby and the taste of A&W root beer floats. I doubt that I ever actually had one, but memory can make you believe the least likely things. I remember that time as being happy, or should I say that I choose to believe that it was a happy time, even though I know that is only part of the story.