Words of the Week

A reminder of why we watch the Olympics, of what the Games are supposed to mean.

It happened again Sunday. There the athletes were, smaller and more real suddenly, snapping pictures like tourists, waving to cameras -- "Hi, Mom!" -- milling aimlessly, mashed together in the most accomplished mosh pit in history. Canadians, Americans, Russians, Finns: all the stiffness, posing, pre-competition jitters was gone, dissolved in a moment of pure fun. There's nothing else like it in sports.

- S.L. Price on SI.com

Dad Disease

Has this ever happened to you?

You are in the grocery store, looking for baking powder, yet all you see is baking soda. You look up and down each aisle twice before your 5-year-old son finally finds it for you.

Has this ever happened to you?

You are making a sandwich for lunch. You find the ham and the cheese, but you can't find the smoked turkey. You tear through the refrigerator, ripping through packages of shredded cheese, Parmesan and pepperoni, all in a futile search. Finally, you give up, curse your fate and blame an in-law to be named later. Then you realize the smoked turkey was in your hands the whole time, right under the bag of ham. You try to play it off, but your wife rolls her eyes, shakes her head and, if lucky, offers an insightful comment, such as "You're as bad as the kids" or "Really! Did you even look first?"

I admit it: These stories, or something close to them, have happened to me. I suffer from Dad Disease, an affliction that more than 85.2 million fathers in North America deal with every day. Dad Disease causes forgetfulness, numbness and numerous, though fortunately odorless, brain farts.

Yes, you remembered to take out the garbage. Yes, you successfully dropped the kids off at school. Yes, you remembered to feed the cat. But have you ever tried to find the Cayenne pepper? I don't know  about you, but there are a lot of spices in our kitchen cabinet.

Dad Disease does not discriminate, and it's roots are genetic, environmental and downright innate. Dad Disease does not improve with time, and eventually leads to forgetting important dates, such as your anniversary and wife's birthday. 

There is a simple cure, though. It takes just a minute of your time, and you don't even have to leave the comfort of your own home.

Unfortunately, I've forgotten it.

Sharing a Childhood Passion

Old Wahoo rediscovered his baseball card collection last week as I tried to help the kids with a school project, and I reveled in my sports geek-dom. I found all kinds of cool stuff, from 7-11 Slurpee Discs (like this) to my favorite, a John Riggins football card (the one pictured at left).

It was hard to stay focused, but I had a job to do. The kindergartner had to complete a 100th day of school poster that included 100 items of any type. Not wanting to cut out 100 pictures of cats or some other animal, I suggested using 100 baseball cards. I knew gluing the cards on poster board would ruin the value of the cards, but considering most are worth only a couple of cents (if that), I figured it would be a good way to share something I enjoyed when I was a kid.

The kindergartner was lukewarm to the idea, but the second-grader thought it was great. He and I crawled into the back of the attic, and knelt in the corner with a flashlight, flipping through card after card (I even think I hurt my knee a little bit). We found all types of cards, including many that I forgot I had, such as Olympic champions, baseball legends and old basketball stars. We also discovered a bunch of Star Wars cards from the early 1980s, and fortunately that struck a chord with the kindergartner, who agreed to use those for his poster.

I was glad to help him with his project, but I was more excited that the second-grader enjoyed looking at the cards with me. After all, I saved the cards with the idea that I could share them with my children, and it was nice to share a passion with your children without forcing it on them.

Words of the Week

We watched a feature on the 30th anniversary of the Miracle on Ice with the kids yesterday. I still get chills whenever I hear this call.

"Do you believe in miracles? Yes!"

- Al Michaels, calling the end of Team USA's victory over the USSR in 1980

Happy Blogday

Old Wahoo celebrates the first anniversary of the blog this week, and I would like to thank everyone for reading and participating in what has become an enjoyable outlet for me.

In my first posting a year ago, I tried to outline what I hoped to accomplish with the blog.

With the good times and the bad times in mind, I'm looking to remember the fun, find ways to solve problems and learn from the experiences of others. 

I'm not sure I've always stayed focused - in fact, I know I've wandered off topic a number of times - but the blog has given me a creative outlet that I look forward to every day. I've enjoyed hearing from others, and I thank everyone for their comments, time and help.

The Moose Sings

The Moose made Mrs. Wahoo proud by singing - unprompted - the chorus to "Walk Through the Fire" from the Buffy musical. Of course, Buffy is the all-time favorite show in the Old Wahoo household (or at least the part the Nielsen ratings measure), and Mrs. Wahoo laughed like a happy woman. (I'm not sure Grandma Wahoo will be as appreciative).

Words of the Week

Abraham Lincoln raised four sons and somehow managed to keep his sense of humor.*

"I have three walnuts and each wants two."

- Abraham Lincoln (from Carl Sandburg's biography)

*Unfortunately, Lincoln's personal life also was filled with tragedy. Only one of his sons reached adulthood.