Change Is Inevitable

I think Mother Nature must be going through menopause.

Hot flashes one day, cold flashes the next; and the gusty winds and thunderstorms.

But this morning the air is still and the sky is blue. And the sun light is bright with a slight tint of orangey yellow.

And it's chilly.

The dew that dropped out of the sky has coated everything on the ground with a thick coat of wet.

Even though I pulled out my heavy black woolen sweater from the closet that stores winter coats, I'm still chilled by the slight breeze as I sit on the back deck by the still waters of the swimming pool.

I guess it's time to consider that summer is over and fall is starting.

It's time to close this swimming pool down. It's time to give it one final vacuum, empty the water to the half-way point, poor in the winter doses of chemicals, and put the black tarp on.

But not yet, at least not today.

We still have ball practices to attend, and the Major Leagues still have two weeks of the regular season left. But then, ball always starts before the pool opens and ends long after the pool is closed.

Many have told me that they feel ripped off by the summer we had this year. Too cool, too wet they all say. But I disagree.

This has been a fantastic summer.

There's a humming bird hovering next to a bush of blue flowers in the garden, sipping the dewy nectar that lies on the tiny petals, oblivious to the fact that it's forty seven degrees outside. But he is in the sunshine while I sit here in the shade.

I wonder if he thinks the summer was too short.

Maybe.

The trees don't think so. For all the maples that I see in my surroundings, only one has leaves starting to turn orange and red. And he always starts early, as though in a rush to be first. The first with leaves in spring, and the first to change colors and fall in autumn.

The impatient one, while the rest still stand high and sturdy with lush green leaves in no hurry to see the season end.

It is still summer you know.

My eldest daughter Alannah has ball practice shortly at noon. Still a practice / tryout of sorts for a new team with another club called the Wildcats, having been cut from the next age group up at the Turtle Club. The experience left me questioning the concept of loyalty – and how do I convince her to hold the value true when the club she was so loyal too was not loyal back to her in return.

But you have to earn your spot to make the team. And this year the competition came from every nook and cranny of our peninsula of a county nested between the great lakes St. Claire and Erie. I watched most every moment of those practices, and I thought Alannah did terrific.

But I must have misjudged her competition.

Last year, my youngest Ashley-Rae missed the cut to play on the same team Alannah did. She spent the summer watching from the side with me, and together we went through house league and all stars. And together we had a ball. Now this year, she made the team that Alannah grew too old to play for anymore. She won her spot in convincing fashion. And so as a family we now get to remain with the other families who will still travel together next year from tournament to tournament, while we make new friends on the new team that Alannah seems certain to earn a spot on. Families from a different club who may not hold the Turtle Club in as high esteem as we do, out of loyalty.

Next year we will be both inside – and on the outside looking in. On both sides of the window.

Alannah's new team does look like it will be very strong though. I haven't seen a single weak player on the team. And two of her old team mates from Turtle Club will be there to, both Lilly and Rachael suffered the same breakdown in what they presumed to be a two-way commitment.

I'm very proud of my two girls – both equally – as they grow up with fast pitch softball as one of their anchor points in their development into young ladies. In fact I am very proud of all the girls I have had the pleasure to manage and coach this year – and those that I simply rooted for on Alannah's team.

There isn't a bad apple in the whole group.

And so, with Ashley's experience of being cut behind her, and now Alannah, the older sister, just learning the experience now – and moving on with a maturity that inspires me, I reconsider my position and understand that relationships, be them with people or with organizations, are more often than not fleeting. They are ever-changing, growing like the huge maples that grow around my yard.

And some change colors early, while others stay green as long as they can.

It's been a fantastic summer for me and my family. Travelling to play ball and watching them step up to each challenge and conquer their own self-doubts. Both Alannah and Ashley-Rae grew up a good bit this year in the most positive ways any father could ask for.

And now they are confident in their own abilities and in each other's as well. They know how to face obstacles, how to meet challenges, and how to succeed.

It's been a fantastic summer.

Reading Green Eggs and Ham

One of my favorite books of all time is by Dr. Seuss.

'Green Eggs and Ham' is a book of pure genius.

I had bought our copy for my youngest daughter Ashley-Rae's birthday when she was no more than two. I had bought it to read to Ashley and Alannah at bed time. And frankly I bought it more for my own selfish pleasure because I enjoy reading that book out loud. The rhythmic cadence, and the opportunity to inflect cartoon-like exaggerated emotion as the main character is persistently harassed by Sam-I-Am to eat that plate of green eggs and ham, chasing him across the country side by car and train, and finally into the bottom of the sea to finally achieve his objective.

It's simply a lesson in persistence.

Last night at bed time, I let Ashley-Rae – who is now more than 2 – she is now five, pick the story of her choice from volumes piled high and wide across her personal library of beaten up story books. And low and behold, she pulls out the orange covered "Green Eggs and Ham" book.

I opened it up to read. But then I stopped.

Ashley-Rae had proven she can read certain words and such before. But sometimes you did not know if she simply memorized the words of the story and recounted her memory back to you, or if she was truly reading.

"You read this time", I said as I held the book for her and put my finger under each word.

"Sam-I-am", she started. "That Sam-I-am, that Sam-I-am, I do not like that Sam I-am".

I knew Ashley-Rae was indeed reading to me as she paused for a second on each word to figure it out.

As we went along, she stumbled on a few, such as "would" or "could", but she figured them out and carried on.

And that is the beauty of this book. A beauty that was, until that experience last night, lost on me. Dr. Seuss was such a genius because he would introduce a new word or two every page. Then he would repeat that word over and over again so that the word becomes known – learned – by the new reader.

"Would you, could you in the rain? Would you could you on a train? "

Halfway through the book, Ashley-Rae had learned a wealth of new words that she knew as soon as she saw them. But the genius of Dr. Seuss is even more dazzling by the way he takes what would normally be such a mundane, monotonous method, and he makes it fun.

Giggly.

Ashley-Rae ended her reading - "Thank you, thank you, Sam-I-am". Ashley turned to look at me with the realization that she had just read a complete book, a literary masterpiece in my mind, from cover-to-cover.

All by herself.

And that beautiful little smile poked up from the sides of her mouth, her eyes got real big, and she gave me a great big daddy hug. Then she scrambled out of bed, and all around the remaining corners of the house to tell Mommy, Alannah, and the Grandma what she had just accomplished.

And I know that she now has the confidence to do it over and over again. She will pick up books to read so as not to look at the pictures, but to actually read the words. And Ashley-Rae will now like reading. She will enjoy it.

I have always known that there is no more fun book to read aloud that 'Green Eggs and Ham'. But until last night I did not understand the true genius behind the book, or the reason that educators herald the book as a treasure.

But now I do.

And Ashley-Rae has been given the greatest gift in the world. The confidence and desire to read.

And that is the best gift I could ever receive.

Thank you Dr. Seuss.