I've started reading books again, which is a good thing

For many years I described myself as a reader. Which was fine if you ignore the fact I wasn't doing much actual reading.

I was more of an "intended reader." I wanted to read books, but I never made much time for it.

All of that has changed over the last 12 months. It started last fall with me (finally) establishing and maintaining a morning Bible reading routine and has expanded to include the array of non-fiction books I keep in my home office.

More specifically, non-fiction history books. And even more specifically, books about World War I and historically related subjects.

I don't solely read WW1 books, of course – I'm currently working through a biography of Calvin Coolidge – but I do read a lot of them.

My Great War library expanded exponentially when my friend Bill Ross started giving me boxes of books. He knows where my historical interests lay, and he has generously given of his own extensive library to bolster mine.

The problem is, it's going to take years and years to read all of the books he has sent my way. Then again, there is no deadline for getting through them short of my own demise, which I presume to be many years down the line.

So, one at a time, I'm happily reading my way through the list.

If you're a reader or wanna-be reader, I recommend the Goodreads app. It allows you to post the books you're reading, the ones you want to read, and reviews of the ones you've finished. More interestingly, it also connects you with friends, family and other like-minded readers to see what's on their bedside tables at any given time.

Reading is inherently a solitary pursuit, but I think it's more enjoyable when you introduce a social aspect to it.

Unfortunately, I've found exactly one person who wants to start a World War I book club.

And that person is me.

I'll keep searching.

And reading.

Say the things you mean to say, do the things you mean to do

Today's post was supposed to have been of the type that normally appears in this space: Silly, maybe slightly funny, but ultimately inconsequential. That is, after all, what we do here three days a week.

But then I realized it felt inappropriate to post anything that wasn't somewhat serious and heartfelt less than 24 hours after Terry and I lost the last of our parents.

My father-in-law Tom passed away yesterday quite unexpectedly. He certainly wasn't in the best of health in recent years, but to the end he was stubborn enough and certainly robust enough to be driving himself around and doing the things he wanted to do, if maybe a bit slower than he used to.

How he died doesn't really matter, though suffice it to say his heart (which was always three sizes bigger than anyone else's) finally gave out.

My own heart aches for my wife and her siblings, and for my kids. Even if they and their grandfather didn't always see eye to eye on everything – really, what combination of humans ever do? – they knew he loved them. They knew he was goofy Grandpa Ross, always ready with a laugh, a corny joke and a loving greeting.

The only point to make today is one you already know, but one that often escapes our notice until a loved one is suddenly gone.

It is this: Do not hesitate to tell the people you care about that you care about them. Do not delay doing the things with them you mean to do. Do not let them leave this life with any doubt that they had a wonderfully positive effect on you.

You don't need me to tell you this, but I tell you anyway because I need to hear it more than anyone else. Once someone is gone, they're gone. The only chance you have is right now. In this life, tomorrow is never, ever guaranteed.

That's all. It's not new, it's not groundbreaking, but it's true.

I promise I'll try my best not to forget it. I hope you will, too.

(For what it's worth, I appreciate you coming here and reading these posts. Just in case I forgot to tell you before.)

Years later, I still find myself doing The Baby Bounce

A couple of months ago we attended one of several graduation parties on our summer calendar. After polishing off the obligatory plate of grad party chicken and potato salad, I offered to hold a young mother's baby so she could sit down and eat in peace.

I have been on both sides of this equation. There was a time when our greatest desire was for someone at a family get-together to walk up and offer to hold whichever small/infant child we had at the time.

Having two hands available for eating is a treat only parents of young ones can truly appreciate.

I walked around the party chatting up various guests while holding the baby, who was getting tired and was thus a little fussy. Immediately, without even thinking about it, I went into Bounce Mode.

Moms and dads know what I'm talking about. You start bouncing up and down lightly on your toes in an attempt to lull the little one to sleep.

I had probably been bouncing for 5 or 10 minutes before I even realized I was doing it.

I'm not sure I did it well (he never did go to sleep while I was holding him), but I can tell you there was a time when I was a master of the Bounce. Back when Terry was having biennial babies, I could be counted on to put them to sleep almost every time no matter how unhappy they were.

I always said it was because I was so boring they just couldn't keep their eyes open. But I think it had something to do with the consistent rhythm of my bouncing. I just had the knack for it.

Nowadays I'm out of practice, naturally, but it was good to see that vestige of early fatherhood rising subconsciously to the surface.

It will come in handy when we have grandchildren.

Or maybe my retirement gig will be hiring myself out to frazzled young parents to have a moment to themselves while I gently bounce their babies to Dreamland.

I could make a fortune.

Do you have a hard time remembering how old you are?

I ask because I don't. I never have to stop and think, "Wait, am I 52? 53? 54?"

I just know I'm 53.

I notice a lot of people have to give it real thought when asked their age. It may take them a good 5-10 seconds before they can confidently offer an answer.

In their defense, if you're in the "lower-middle" and "upper-middle" parts of a particular decade, those years and birthdays do tend to run together. By that I mean, for example, when you're in the 52-54 or 56-58 age ranges.

Those particular years are, for practical purposes, all essentially the same.

But you know right away when you're a "milestone" age like 20, 30, 40, 50, etc. And you can usually remember if you've turned the "1" number (21, 31, 41, 51, etc.) in the last 12 months OR if you're in the final year before a milestone (19, 29, 39, 49, etc.)

But those other ages? Yeah, they go by so quickly they can be difficult to keep track of.

As I said, though, this is never a problem for me. I can rattle off my current age at a moment's notice even despite my wife's attempts to throw me off.

Terry is about 7 1/2 months older than me. We were born the same year, she in March and me in November. It is her policy, when she turns a certain age, that I am immediately that same age. In her mind, there is no time lag between us.

So for instance, if the calendar suggests that on March 18th (her birthday) she turns 40 years old and I remain 39, Terry sees things differently. To her, we are both instantly 40, birth certificates be damned.

I am so used to hearing this from her that I will admit an occasional fraction-of-a-second hesitation in declaring my age to anyone who asks. But it's so slight you wouldn't notice, and thus I claim no real trouble in remembering how old I am.

For now, that is. Try me again in 30 or 40 years. By that time, it will be sufficient if I know my first name and can come within a decade, plus or minus, of my age.

There comes a time in life when it's all about the little victories.

I know nothing of 90s pop culture because it was a blur of a decade for me

This picture was actually taken in September 2000 when Melanie was born. She turns 23 tomorrow. Happy early birthday, Mel!

Lately I've been seeing a lot of my younger friends writing nostalgically about the 1990s, and I laugh for two reasons:

(1) I remember 10-15 years ago posting fondly about my memories of the 80s and having people who graduated in the 60s and 70s chuckle because to them I was just a young'un and the 80s weren't that long ago. These 90s kids are pretty much right on schedule with their walks down Memory Lane.

(2) I retain very little of the period from, say, 1994 to 2000 because Terry and I spent those years having babies.

Well, to be accurate, Terry was the one having the babies. I was largely the one paying for them and spending my evenings and weekends changing diapers, setting up and taking down playpens, trying to get various infants to sleep, etc.

There's so much about the 90s that is simply a faint memory, and in many cases not even that.

For me, it was the decade when I got married, bought a house and started cranking out offspring.

For many others my age and somewhat younger, it was a decade of clubbing, ripped jeans and music I either don't remember or never liked in the first place.

Our experiences were, to put it mildly, a little different.

Now we're to the point that the 90s are three decades in the past and the subject of trivia questions I can't necessarily answer. I remember trying to pay attention to current events and popular culture of the time, but the only things that stick with me are the music of Raffi, the smell of baby spit-up, and Terry's frequent visits to the OB-GYN.

For a guy who graduated in 1988, I feel about 100 years old.

How to buy "5 Kids, 1 Wife" the paperback, the eBook, and the audiobook

If you are interested in obtaining a copy (paperback, Kindle, audiobook) of my book – which like this blog is titled "5 Kids, 1 Wife" – you have some options:

AMAZON: If you were to ask, I would say this is my preferred way for you to buy the book, as I can track sales and associated royalties most easily through Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing platform. This is the book's Amazon page, which contains links to buy it in paperback, Kindle/eBook, and audiobook formats.

BARNES & NOBLE: On the other hand, I am certainly not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If you want to get your copy from B&N, by all means, have at it. As of January 2025, however, they have apparently stopped selling the paperback version and only offer the eBook version for $4.99.

CLEVELAND PUBLIC LIBRARY: I was pleased to see my friends at the Wickliffe Public Library have five copies of the book in their collection. The call number is 248 TEN. If you are in the Northeast Ohio area and want to have the book delivered to your local CPL branch for borrowing, here's the online catalog link where you can do that.

CUYAHOGA COUNTY PUBLIC LIBRARY: Only one copy in circulation here, but it's usually available. Here's the catalog link.

OTHER WAYS TO GET THE AUDIOBOOK:

• Audible
• Apple Books (or use the Books app on your iPhone)

As always, thank you for reading/listening, and thank you for considering a book purchase to support this labor of love I call my blog.

Scott

I didn't think I was addicted to coffee until I realized I was addicted to coffee

I may be taking the word "addiction" too lightly here, in which case I apologize to those suffering or recovering from addictions to truly harmful substances.

It's just that I've only recently come to recognize how much I rely on my morning cup of coffee (not to mention my mid-morning, late-morning and early-afternoon cups of coffee...and sometimes, when it's that kind of day, my mid-afternoon cup of coffee).

If "addiction" isn't the right word, I would say "dependence" is.

When I walk into the office each day, the first thing I do is ensure that my early-arriving co-worker Dave has made a pot of coffee. If he hasn't, I drop everything and get the coffee maker going.

When we go on vacation, the detail in which I take keenest interest is how – and how often – we can get coffee.

My last few jobs, while I didn't ask about it during the interview process, I was always quick to check with a new co-worker on the office coffee situation.

I can get through a day without coffee, but it's not very fun. All day there's a gnawing craving for just one cup of the sweet brown bean liquid. Just one.

I wonder whether it's the coffee I crave or the caffeine that powers it. On days I don't meet my normal coffee quota, I don't feel especially tired. I just get antsy, to the point that I wonder whether caffeine is more of a relaxant for me than a stimulant.

In any event, I don't like being this reliant on any substance. Until I turned 40 years old, I could take or leave coffee. After that point, it was like a switch flipped and it became an indispensable part of my daily diet.

This all worries me so much you won't be surprised to hear I'm headed to the kitchen for a cup of joe. You know, just to calm myself down.