Wednesday, May 31, 2006

First Grade Education


First Grade Education 2
Originally uploaded by lorenzodom

Last Sunday, my six-year old and I sat down to play an innocent game of Scrabble.

Thinking I had the upper hand as an adult with years of experience and a more extensive vocabulary, I gave him home court advantage and told him to go first.

Smiling, he throws me a curve ball and puts down S - E - X.

Shocked, I laugh and ask, "Where did you learn that word?"

Smiling bigger then ever he blurts out, "Skateboard Camp!"

I roll my eyes in response, not sure what I should think and then place my word extending left from the e: D - A - T - E.

Enzo once again proceeded to surprise me with his next word, S - I - N.

The congruency of the words and their meanings was all-too uncanny and laden with significance, especially considering that a six-year old still had another good ten years or so before he would truly understand the weight of these words and their overlapping inferences.

More importantly though, I thought about how at this sprite age he was safe from having to deal with the guilt associated with the social phenomena that was being played out upon the board.

Or was he? At what age should this sort of education begin? Intuitively and based on my own personal coming-of-age experience I feel that it is not until mid-adolescence that I will need to teach my boys about the birds and the bees. God knows that I was kept in the dark until high school and it seemed to keep me out of trouble, for the most part.

Alas, knowing as I do know, knowing that perhaps there is no God, knowing that religion was merely an easy and good way to bat down the primal urges and keep my libido in check, what moral course do I take with my own children?

This question is especially pertinent since our oldest is already a budding scientist. He just finished an anatomy class at Montclair State University for gifted children and has taken other likewise designed science courses there for the last couple of years including rocket science, engineering (invention convention) and basic chemistry.

Hence, therein lies my dilemma, for how can I encourage his scientific curiosity when I also feel that I must still hide some of the basic information about how we function, what motivates us, and how we come and came into being, in order to protect him from our innate proclivity to err.

It is a delicate balance to say the least, and it is not always easy to straddle between playing the fool who sees no evil, hears no evil and speaks no evil; and the all-knowing father who wants his little boy to be fully aware and endowed with the knowledge that will enable his fullest intellectual potential.

That said, upon pondering the issue of timeliness and our little lad’s education, I realized that albeit I was not hitting home runs until I was sixteen, I did begin to pique at a relatively early age, as one particular piece of confessional verse attests: My First Pique.

Thus, at the same age as Enzo, I was already motivated to leer and stare and wonder, as little boys do when the ballyhoo begins down under. So, even though at this innocent age I may not have had all the right words with which to reference my first intimate experiences—something was indeed happening. And even though ultimately my parents did not sit me down to explain things, I discern that I was still quite fortunate to not have made any critical missteps along the way due to my ignorance.

That said, our precocious little boy apparently enjoys looking at my big Taschen picture book—The Great American Pin-Up. His mother said she found him one afternoon about a year ago carrying it around with him wherever he went.

We decided to put it on the top shelf—high and out-of-reach, much like modern-day morals.

Wednesday, March 1, 2006

Poets Who Know It

Poets Who Know It 8

lorenzo makes his poetry debut:
Thrusday, March 2, 2006 at Stolen Thursdays at the den of cin. .

See fliers in this set for more information.

Also, in appreciation of all the support from my flickr friends, I would like to share Three Tomes of Verse:
A Letter to A Muse
Poetic Parities
Autres, Others and Otras

Monday, November 21, 2005

Lorenzo, Almost 40


Lorenzo, Almost 40
Originally uploaded by lorenzodom

Almost 40

A year and a day away from the Big 4-O, today I am taking it slow, playing hooky, taking a day off from work to celebrate my birthday a day early with my boys.

I took a few pictures this morning of them and of us together, and then decided to turn the camera on me.

Call it hubris, call it vanity, call it extra-intro spection, call it the man and his camera, that lover I have lived, eaten and practically slept with every day and every night for the last 10 months. It has been a wonderful affair thus far.

So tomorrow is “the birthday,” and a year from then I’ll turn forty. I guess that would officially make me middle-aged. So, what does it all mean? Must I berate myself for not being more accomplished, for not fulfilling all my dreams?

Regardless of these token sentiments that I’m supposed to drag myself through eventually, I actually had an epiphany of the opposite sort last night as I was slowing down and getting ready to go to bed.

Traditionally, much like I recall my father did, I have long belittled my birthday by relaying that I didn’t want to make a fuss. A small dinner with the family has sufficed for the last fifteen years or so. I really can’t remember the last birthday party had for me.

But last night I realized something very important. I was feeling happy to be alive, happy to be thriving on the brink of my middle years, and so it occurred to me that birthdays are much more than just blowing out candles, much more than just breaking open boxes and tearing apart yards of colorful paper, much more than getting drunk and being with family and friends to celebrate your personal holiday.

No, what I realized in full-force last night was that birthdays are meant to acknowledge and toast the birth of another wonderful life, another person who in full bloom, whom as a happy soul, can make the world a better place, if only with a positive attitude and a smile.

Hence, I’ve decided to actually wile away a day by celebrating my birthday this year - if only by making it known, if only by acknowledging how I’ve grown over these almost forty years and how with a bright disposition I’ve tried my best not to let time wear me down.

*

post-scripte/correction: someone pointed out that i calculated wrong - i'm actually going to be 38, not 39 as i had thought. oh well, guess i am getting old after all.

p.p.s. If only as a note of amusement, this particular foto was taken in the men's room at IHop (The International House of Pancakes). Being a liberal arts major with an unusual major, international cultural studies, i was often tormented with the question, "So what are you going to do with that (degree)?" One of my good friends, Adam, surmised that I would end up working at IHop.

Alas, I never found employement there, but it has long been one of my favorite cheap places to eat.

Anyway, the boys and I went there for my birthday breakfast, we shared multi-grain, buttermilk and pumpkin pancakes all topped with fresh whipped cream and boysenberry syrup. Upon making a trip to the restroom I discovered this exquisite strip of tile and immediately knew I had to take some photos against it.

this foto has been cited at: cleveland rocks. richmond sucks.

for a full list of cited fotos click HERE.