As a kid, I remember spending most of my summers whining to my mother, “I’m bored. There’s nothing to do around here. Can we please do something?”
To which she replied, “Go outside and find something to do.”
“Ugghhh. You always say that. Outside is boring, too,” I would reply.
My boredom stemmed from the fact that we lived in the country, miles away from any people my own age, and playing with my younger sister was torture. And since we didn’t have rattlesnakes, bears, mountain cliffs and raging rapids where we lived, outside was, frankly, kind of boring.
Going to a friend’s house or having one over was bliss, for a little while at least until that got boring, too, as it always did. For some reason, we’d eventually get bored with everything we were doing, and then our collective boredom was more boring than our individual boredom. This massive boredom usually led to fighting, which made things less boring, but the hostility was worse than the boredom, so a world of summer fun became even more distant.
Although I occasionally hear the same whining now from my 6-year-old son, Braden, it’s not as prevalent because his summer has been full of fun activities.
Most of these fun activities take place at his daycare, Canaland Christian Day Care in Stevens Point, through its “Camp Summer Fun” program. Designed for children entering first grade and up, Camp Summer Fun has been loaded with field trips, physical and brain activities, and the opportunity for kids to interact with each other.
Field trips have been taken to the Mead Wildlife Center, the Appleton Children’s Museum, a zoo in Madison, Noah’s Ark in Wisconsin Dells, the Rudolph Cheese Factory and plenty of other places throughout the state.
Twice a week they go swimming, which is a priority for most children, as it was for me growing up. We lived a half mile from the White River near Neshkoro, and we’d spend hours every day in it, alleviating some of our boredom. Jumping off the bridge into the shallow waters is something I would never allow Braden to do today, at any age, but what my parents didn’t know back then never worried them.
The kids have so much fun at Camp Summer Fun, Braden often expresses disappointment when it’s a weekend day and he has to stay home. “Home is so boring. I want to go to Camp Summer Fun.”
“Well, go outside and do something,” I’ll tell him.
“Ugghhh. You always say that. Outside is so boring.”
What goes around, comes around, I guess.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, Aug. 12, 2011.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Dean Ziegler is one Stevens Point resident people should know
Who is Dean Ziegler? And why should we care?
Dean Ziegler is an insurance salesman who likes to party and have fun, but deep down he’s got a sad heart because his wife just left him.
We should care because he’s from Stevens Point and he’s a major character in an excellent new film, “Cedar Rapids.”
Perfectly played by John C. Reilly, Ziegler is the guy Tim Lippe (played by Ed Helms), another insurance salesman, is told to avoid at a regional conference in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. It’s clear why Lippe is given this advice, as Ziegler is the only one there who doesn’t suck up to Orin Helgesson (Kurtwood Smith), the president of the insurance accreditation firm in charge of awarding the coveted “Two Diamonds” award at the conference.
Ziegler moons Helgesson, tells him he’s a hypocrite and drives him crazy every chance he gets. At first it embarrasses the high-strung Lippe, but the more he gets to know Ziegler, the more he realizes Ziegler is the most real person at the conference.
And being real is something Lippe comes to realize is more important than any award could ever mean.
The only references to Stevens Point in the film are the two times characters point out that Ziegler is from Stevens Point. It makes sense, especially given the number of insurance salesmen and people involved in the insurance industry that live here.
And Ziegler doesn’t seem out of place being from Stevens Point. He’s got a perfect Wisconsin accent (John C. Reilly is a Chicago native), and his party-hard ways would seem normal in many local taverns on a Friday or Saturday night.
More importantly, he’s got a big heart, even if it’s really sad. The people he likes, he cares for immensely. He knows Lippe is high-strung, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to get him to open up and live life a little.
Although we never learn why his wife left him within the last year, viewers will probably pick up quite easily that his carefree ways probably contributed to the end of the relationship. He’s sad about it, though, as evidenced by a scene in which he stares in bed one night at a photo of the two together.
If Ziegler were a real person who did live in Stevens Point, my guess is he would live in a downtown apartment after his divorce, mainly so he could have easy access to the bars at night. A big fan of chicken wings, I would assume he’d spend a lot of time at Graffiti’s, which does offer excellent boneless wings, although I could be wrong because he does seem like someone who might like bones in his wings.
He probably would play softball in a Thursday night league, and he’d have a YMCA membership that he rarely uses.
His friends are probably mostly married, so he doesn’t hang out with many of them and instead latches onto the people he does know when he’s out. They don’t mind, though, because he’s kind of fun and always makes the evening more interesting.
At work, he probably gets a number of disagreements with the boss, but they keep him around because he’s a hard worker and makes a lot of sales. He’ll never move up at work, but he doesn’t care.
If he has kids, he cares for them deeply but he’s not the best dad. He can’t relate to them, so he lets them do whatever they want, which is another reason his wife left him.
Ziegler is a complicated character, making it appropriate he’s from Stevens Point. We may seem like simple folk here, but we’re anything but. And maybe that’s one great reason to live here.
“Cedar Rapids” is available on DVD, following a limited theatrical release earlier this year.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, Aug. 5, 2011.
Dean Ziegler is an insurance salesman who likes to party and have fun, but deep down he’s got a sad heart because his wife just left him.
We should care because he’s from Stevens Point and he’s a major character in an excellent new film, “Cedar Rapids.”
Perfectly played by John C. Reilly, Ziegler is the guy Tim Lippe (played by Ed Helms), another insurance salesman, is told to avoid at a regional conference in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. It’s clear why Lippe is given this advice, as Ziegler is the only one there who doesn’t suck up to Orin Helgesson (Kurtwood Smith), the president of the insurance accreditation firm in charge of awarding the coveted “Two Diamonds” award at the conference.
Ziegler moons Helgesson, tells him he’s a hypocrite and drives him crazy every chance he gets. At first it embarrasses the high-strung Lippe, but the more he gets to know Ziegler, the more he realizes Ziegler is the most real person at the conference.
And being real is something Lippe comes to realize is more important than any award could ever mean.
The only references to Stevens Point in the film are the two times characters point out that Ziegler is from Stevens Point. It makes sense, especially given the number of insurance salesmen and people involved in the insurance industry that live here.
And Ziegler doesn’t seem out of place being from Stevens Point. He’s got a perfect Wisconsin accent (John C. Reilly is a Chicago native), and his party-hard ways would seem normal in many local taverns on a Friday or Saturday night.
More importantly, he’s got a big heart, even if it’s really sad. The people he likes, he cares for immensely. He knows Lippe is high-strung, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to get him to open up and live life a little.
Although we never learn why his wife left him within the last year, viewers will probably pick up quite easily that his carefree ways probably contributed to the end of the relationship. He’s sad about it, though, as evidenced by a scene in which he stares in bed one night at a photo of the two together.
If Ziegler were a real person who did live in Stevens Point, my guess is he would live in a downtown apartment after his divorce, mainly so he could have easy access to the bars at night. A big fan of chicken wings, I would assume he’d spend a lot of time at Graffiti’s, which does offer excellent boneless wings, although I could be wrong because he does seem like someone who might like bones in his wings.
He probably would play softball in a Thursday night league, and he’d have a YMCA membership that he rarely uses.
His friends are probably mostly married, so he doesn’t hang out with many of them and instead latches onto the people he does know when he’s out. They don’t mind, though, because he’s kind of fun and always makes the evening more interesting.
At work, he probably gets a number of disagreements with the boss, but they keep him around because he’s a hard worker and makes a lot of sales. He’ll never move up at work, but he doesn’t care.
If he has kids, he cares for them deeply but he’s not the best dad. He can’t relate to them, so he lets them do whatever they want, which is another reason his wife left him.
Ziegler is a complicated character, making it appropriate he’s from Stevens Point. We may seem like simple folk here, but we’re anything but. And maybe that’s one great reason to live here.
“Cedar Rapids” is available on DVD, following a limited theatrical release earlier this year.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, Aug. 5, 2011.
Colonoscopies are no laughing matter
I prefer to keep this column light-hearted, but this week I’m addressing a serious topic in which I want to avoid being funny, despite the fact the subject matter often opens itself to bathroom humor, literally.
The subject: colonoscopies.
I had one two weeks ago, several days after some blood issues prompted me to visit Urgent Care at Ministry St. Michael’s Hospital in Stevens Point.
My father-in-law died one month ago, at the still young age of 57, following a two-year battle with colon cancer. Despite the fact he had a family history of colon cancer – his father dying from it in 2003 – he refused to get one once he reached his 50s. I’m not sure why he refused to do so, but I know it was his biggest regret in life, and in his final years he told many others to make sure they get a colonoscopy once they reach the right age.
I’m still 14 years away from 50, but because of the blood issues the examining doctor didn’t have an answer for, I was scheduled for one later in the week. Although nervous about it, my father-in-law’s experience left no doubt as to what I needed to do.
The day before the procedure, I had to drink a number of laxative-type drinks that emptied my system. It was not a pleasant experience, but far more people go through worse ones than I did sitting on a toilet most of the evening.
The only difficulty I had the day of the procedure was producing a ripe vein for the nurses to give me an IV. They tried for 40 minutes until they found one, during a time in which I nearly fainted once. They said men often do, as they don’t like the thought of needles.
After being wheeled into the procedure room, the doctor explained a little about what he was going to do. I’ll admit the only thing I really cared to listen about was the fact that I was going to be given medication that would put me out for the procedure. After being given the medication, the next thing I remember was being told I could get dressed.
With my clothes back on, the doctor told me he removed several polyps from my colon, but the cause of my blood issues was a colon infection. Colon infections occur when hard-to-digest food in the stomach and colon can’t break down and it remains there. I’m not sure what I ate to cause it, but I’m sure it wasn’t that good going down.
The doctor said the polyps will be tested for cancer and I will be notified a week later with the results.
One week later, I received a letter stating the polyps were noncancerous adenomatous polyps. These polyps grow slowly over three to 10 years, and they can become cancerous. Because I now have a history of them, I’m required to return for another colonoscopy in five years and then again in another five years, which means I will have three of them before turning 50.
Although the polyps only had a possibility of becoming cancerous, a big part of me believes my father-in-law may have saved my life in the future by sending a colon infection my way to force me to get a colonoscopy. Without it, I would have gone 14 years before my first one, which may have been too late.
Nothing like getting a probe from above to maybe save my life. Alright, I had to throw at least one colonoscopy joke in there to be at least a little funny. But seriously, if you’re 50 or older and haven’t had one, do so now. And if you suspect something may be wrong, don’t hesitate. I knew someone who would have very much liked me giving this advice.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, July 29, 2011.
The subject: colonoscopies.
I had one two weeks ago, several days after some blood issues prompted me to visit Urgent Care at Ministry St. Michael’s Hospital in Stevens Point.
My father-in-law died one month ago, at the still young age of 57, following a two-year battle with colon cancer. Despite the fact he had a family history of colon cancer – his father dying from it in 2003 – he refused to get one once he reached his 50s. I’m not sure why he refused to do so, but I know it was his biggest regret in life, and in his final years he told many others to make sure they get a colonoscopy once they reach the right age.
I’m still 14 years away from 50, but because of the blood issues the examining doctor didn’t have an answer for, I was scheduled for one later in the week. Although nervous about it, my father-in-law’s experience left no doubt as to what I needed to do.
The day before the procedure, I had to drink a number of laxative-type drinks that emptied my system. It was not a pleasant experience, but far more people go through worse ones than I did sitting on a toilet most of the evening.
The only difficulty I had the day of the procedure was producing a ripe vein for the nurses to give me an IV. They tried for 40 minutes until they found one, during a time in which I nearly fainted once. They said men often do, as they don’t like the thought of needles.
After being wheeled into the procedure room, the doctor explained a little about what he was going to do. I’ll admit the only thing I really cared to listen about was the fact that I was going to be given medication that would put me out for the procedure. After being given the medication, the next thing I remember was being told I could get dressed.
With my clothes back on, the doctor told me he removed several polyps from my colon, but the cause of my blood issues was a colon infection. Colon infections occur when hard-to-digest food in the stomach and colon can’t break down and it remains there. I’m not sure what I ate to cause it, but I’m sure it wasn’t that good going down.
The doctor said the polyps will be tested for cancer and I will be notified a week later with the results.
One week later, I received a letter stating the polyps were noncancerous adenomatous polyps. These polyps grow slowly over three to 10 years, and they can become cancerous. Because I now have a history of them, I’m required to return for another colonoscopy in five years and then again in another five years, which means I will have three of them before turning 50.
Although the polyps only had a possibility of becoming cancerous, a big part of me believes my father-in-law may have saved my life in the future by sending a colon infection my way to force me to get a colonoscopy. Without it, I would have gone 14 years before my first one, which may have been too late.
Nothing like getting a probe from above to maybe save my life. Alright, I had to throw at least one colonoscopy joke in there to be at least a little funny. But seriously, if you’re 50 or older and haven’t had one, do so now. And if you suspect something may be wrong, don’t hesitate. I knew someone who would have very much liked me giving this advice.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, July 29, 2011.
Groundhogs, snakes, birds and toads – oh my
Saturday was wildlife day at the Steuck household, as it was full of snakes, birds, toads and groundhogs.
Since moving in more than a month ago, I’ve been waiting for the wildlife. Although the house is in the city, it’s on the edge of town and is surrounded by plenty of natural landscape. Several years ago, before we built the house, neighbors spotted a bear on our property, and I have heard from others that cougars and wolves have been spotted in the area. But, other than a whole slew of birds who like to wake me up too early in the morning, the wildlife has been quiet.
That is until Saturday when all the animals decided they wanted to live in our yard, and in one case, in our house.
It started with the groundhog. While putting dishes away, my wife, Jenny, looked out the kitchen window and spotted a small brown animal on a rock ledge behind the house. Our son, Braden, and I looked out and spotted it, too. My wife initially thought it was a beaver, but I knew right away it was a groundhog, or a woodchuck as it is also commonly known.
I don’t know much about groundhogs, except that my dad used to shoot them when he spotted them on our property. He said they are a nuisance and didn’t want them there. I don’t have a gun, and even if I did, I could never bring myself to shoot it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s fun to watch it from our window. At one point while watching it, we thought we spotted a baby, but neither of us could confirm for sure that’s what we saw.
Later that afternoon, while in the garage, I spotted a bird in the rafters. Finally having a garage now to allow our cars to avoid becoming encased in the byproducts of birds, I wasn’t about to allow it to do so now. I tried shooing it out, and I could tell it wanted to get out, but it didn’t know how. The garage door below the rafters prevented it from seeing its escape route. I tried for five minutes to get it out, even at one point going outside, lying on my stomach and calling it to hopefully see the exit.
At this point, Jenny came out and told me to let the bird rest awhile, as it’s probably getting tired of flying around hopelessly in the garage. As long as we were outside, she said we should walk around the lawn to come up with ideas on landscaping. As we were walking in front of the house, she spotted a grass snake on our front porch with a toad in its mouth. Basically, it was one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.
She didn’t think so, jumping back about five feet and instructing me to get rid of it.
My first instinct, though, was to get Braden who was in the house. “Come outside and see something cool,” I told him walking past the snake and into the house. He ran out and agreed with me, immediately wanting to call his grandmother to let her know what he was seeing. It’s kind of torture on his part, because he knows his grandmother is deathly afraid of snakes.
I knew I had to get rid of the snake when it took its prey and started going under our house. Like the unwanted bird, we did not want a slithery unwanted reptilian houseguest. I grabbed it by its tail and held it at arm’s length, knowing it wouldn’t be able to reach me if it tried to bite. It’s first reaction was to let go of the toad and come after me. I couldn’t blame it, as who would want me holding it by its rear.
I went across the street and let it go in some high grass near a neighborhood park. Jenny said I shouldn’t have put it there, but it seemed the only logical place to go if she didn’t want it back on our property.
Maybe the bird was frightened by the snake, too, as it finally left after I put the garage door down halfway in an attempt to let it see the exit.
The toad the snake attempted to eat was probably the same toad I told Braden to release after he caught it when we first moved in. To convince him to let it go, I told him it was our “Guard Toad” and that it would guard our house from any bad things. I guess we better find another toad now.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, July 22, 2011.
Since moving in more than a month ago, I’ve been waiting for the wildlife. Although the house is in the city, it’s on the edge of town and is surrounded by plenty of natural landscape. Several years ago, before we built the house, neighbors spotted a bear on our property, and I have heard from others that cougars and wolves have been spotted in the area. But, other than a whole slew of birds who like to wake me up too early in the morning, the wildlife has been quiet.
That is until Saturday when all the animals decided they wanted to live in our yard, and in one case, in our house.
It started with the groundhog. While putting dishes away, my wife, Jenny, looked out the kitchen window and spotted a small brown animal on a rock ledge behind the house. Our son, Braden, and I looked out and spotted it, too. My wife initially thought it was a beaver, but I knew right away it was a groundhog, or a woodchuck as it is also commonly known.
I don’t know much about groundhogs, except that my dad used to shoot them when he spotted them on our property. He said they are a nuisance and didn’t want them there. I don’t have a gun, and even if I did, I could never bring myself to shoot it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s fun to watch it from our window. At one point while watching it, we thought we spotted a baby, but neither of us could confirm for sure that’s what we saw.
Later that afternoon, while in the garage, I spotted a bird in the rafters. Finally having a garage now to allow our cars to avoid becoming encased in the byproducts of birds, I wasn’t about to allow it to do so now. I tried shooing it out, and I could tell it wanted to get out, but it didn’t know how. The garage door below the rafters prevented it from seeing its escape route. I tried for five minutes to get it out, even at one point going outside, lying on my stomach and calling it to hopefully see the exit.
At this point, Jenny came out and told me to let the bird rest awhile, as it’s probably getting tired of flying around hopelessly in the garage. As long as we were outside, she said we should walk around the lawn to come up with ideas on landscaping. As we were walking in front of the house, she spotted a grass snake on our front porch with a toad in its mouth. Basically, it was one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.
She didn’t think so, jumping back about five feet and instructing me to get rid of it.
My first instinct, though, was to get Braden who was in the house. “Come outside and see something cool,” I told him walking past the snake and into the house. He ran out and agreed with me, immediately wanting to call his grandmother to let her know what he was seeing. It’s kind of torture on his part, because he knows his grandmother is deathly afraid of snakes.
I knew I had to get rid of the snake when it took its prey and started going under our house. Like the unwanted bird, we did not want a slithery unwanted reptilian houseguest. I grabbed it by its tail and held it at arm’s length, knowing it wouldn’t be able to reach me if it tried to bite. It’s first reaction was to let go of the toad and come after me. I couldn’t blame it, as who would want me holding it by its rear.
I went across the street and let it go in some high grass near a neighborhood park. Jenny said I shouldn’t have put it there, but it seemed the only logical place to go if she didn’t want it back on our property.
Maybe the bird was frightened by the snake, too, as it finally left after I put the garage door down halfway in an attempt to let it see the exit.
The toad the snake attempted to eat was probably the same toad I told Braden to release after he caught it when we first moved in. To convince him to let it go, I told him it was our “Guard Toad” and that it would guard our house from any bad things. I guess we better find another toad now.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, July 22, 2011.
Experienced father can offer good advice for new mother
My sister-in-law Abby is a big girl now, or she better be, as she delivered my second nephew, and third godson, Steven Bradley Schleicher, on Friday, July 8.
Named after his father, Steven, and his late grandfather, Bradley, the little guy weighed 8.5 pounds and was 21.5 inches long – small measurements that come with big responsibilities. As the father of a 6-year-old, I have some advice for her in this new endeavor.
Grandmas like to help, so let them. They’ll continually ask if you need any help and after awhile you’ll start feeling guilty that you’re taking advantage of them. Ignore this guilt, because they truly love helping you and spending time with the new grandchild. They’ve learned from all of the mistakes they made in raising their own children, and now want to show you how to properly be a parent.
Learn from their examples, but expect to make plenty of your own mistakes. Human nature practically dictates that we goof things up, even when it’s spelled out clearly and laid out right in front of us in an easy how-to guide that could ensure success.
One example: when your nephew, Braden, was a youngster, your sister and I said we’ll never take him to McDonalds. The food is unhealthy, and we don’t want him growing up to become a fat fast-food junkie. For a long time, we successfully avoided the place. And then one day, against our better judgment, we took him there. And now, every time we drive past some golden arches, we hear “Let’s go to McDonalds.” Ugghhh. I think the Happy Meal toys hooked him.
Enjoy the fact that he’s not mobile and can’t speak while you can, because once he moves and speaks, life will never be quiet again. I remember anxiously waiting for Braden to learn how to crawl and then walk, and waiting for him to say his first words, thinking he’ll be so much cooler to me once he did those things. Little did I know that he’ll never stop moving and he’ll never stop talking once he learns them.
Memories are short, so take lots of photos and videos, but don’t forget to write down the funny things they do. My long-term memory is garbage, so I’m thankful for the hundreds of photos we took as Braden was growing up. We’ve taken some video, but probably should have taken more.
Most people probably don’t think about putting the funny things to paper, but fortunately for your sister and me, and probably unfortunately for Braden, I’ve practically documented everything he’s ever done in this column, or on the “What did you expect…” page on the inside back cover. Reading about my kid has probably annoyed a lot of people over the years, but generally I hear from a lot more people that they like reading about my family because it reminds them of theirs. You’ll be amazed at how some of the seemingly personal occurrences are much more universal than you think.
My last piece of advice is to learn how to hold your ground. Kids, even at infant age, learn quickly that crying and throwing a tantrum is the easiest way to get what they want. It’s tough saying no, especially when you know that it’ll be easier on you if you give in. But it won’t, because the next time he’ll cry harder and throw a bigger tantrum. With Braden, I feel fortunate because we seldom gave in to him, so his tantrums are usually contained quickly. Nonetheless, he still throws them and occasionally we give in out of his sheer tenacity.
Some day, and maybe you can be the one, some parent is going to make it through his or her child’s younger years without giving in, and that child may grow up to be the most thoughtful, unselfish adult that has ever existed. And maybe that child could become a great president who solves many of the growing problems facing the world.
I know it’s wishful thinking, but every parent has hopes their kid will become president someday. I do, and there is no reason you shouldn’t expect it. So maybe that’s my really my last piece of advice: expect your kid to become president.
As a side note, take advantage of aunts and uncles – who miss having babies around – as babysitters. And call your sister for advice. She’s got plenty to give.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, July 15, 2011.
Named after his father, Steven, and his late grandfather, Bradley, the little guy weighed 8.5 pounds and was 21.5 inches long – small measurements that come with big responsibilities. As the father of a 6-year-old, I have some advice for her in this new endeavor.
Grandmas like to help, so let them. They’ll continually ask if you need any help and after awhile you’ll start feeling guilty that you’re taking advantage of them. Ignore this guilt, because they truly love helping you and spending time with the new grandchild. They’ve learned from all of the mistakes they made in raising their own children, and now want to show you how to properly be a parent.
Learn from their examples, but expect to make plenty of your own mistakes. Human nature practically dictates that we goof things up, even when it’s spelled out clearly and laid out right in front of us in an easy how-to guide that could ensure success.
One example: when your nephew, Braden, was a youngster, your sister and I said we’ll never take him to McDonalds. The food is unhealthy, and we don’t want him growing up to become a fat fast-food junkie. For a long time, we successfully avoided the place. And then one day, against our better judgment, we took him there. And now, every time we drive past some golden arches, we hear “Let’s go to McDonalds.” Ugghhh. I think the Happy Meal toys hooked him.
Enjoy the fact that he’s not mobile and can’t speak while you can, because once he moves and speaks, life will never be quiet again. I remember anxiously waiting for Braden to learn how to crawl and then walk, and waiting for him to say his first words, thinking he’ll be so much cooler to me once he did those things. Little did I know that he’ll never stop moving and he’ll never stop talking once he learns them.
Memories are short, so take lots of photos and videos, but don’t forget to write down the funny things they do. My long-term memory is garbage, so I’m thankful for the hundreds of photos we took as Braden was growing up. We’ve taken some video, but probably should have taken more.
Most people probably don’t think about putting the funny things to paper, but fortunately for your sister and me, and probably unfortunately for Braden, I’ve practically documented everything he’s ever done in this column, or on the “What did you expect…” page on the inside back cover. Reading about my kid has probably annoyed a lot of people over the years, but generally I hear from a lot more people that they like reading about my family because it reminds them of theirs. You’ll be amazed at how some of the seemingly personal occurrences are much more universal than you think.
My last piece of advice is to learn how to hold your ground. Kids, even at infant age, learn quickly that crying and throwing a tantrum is the easiest way to get what they want. It’s tough saying no, especially when you know that it’ll be easier on you if you give in. But it won’t, because the next time he’ll cry harder and throw a bigger tantrum. With Braden, I feel fortunate because we seldom gave in to him, so his tantrums are usually contained quickly. Nonetheless, he still throws them and occasionally we give in out of his sheer tenacity.
Some day, and maybe you can be the one, some parent is going to make it through his or her child’s younger years without giving in, and that child may grow up to be the most thoughtful, unselfish adult that has ever existed. And maybe that child could become a great president who solves many of the growing problems facing the world.
I know it’s wishful thinking, but every parent has hopes their kid will become president someday. I do, and there is no reason you shouldn’t expect it. So maybe that’s my really my last piece of advice: expect your kid to become president.
As a side note, take advantage of aunts and uncles – who miss having babies around – as babysitters. And call your sister for advice. She’s got plenty to give.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, July 15, 2011.
Stevens Point Fourth of July festivities bring out loads of good, just touch of bad
By JENNIFER STEUCKMy husband, Scott, the usual columnist here, and I were discussing the Fourth of July activities that took place in Stevens Point this past weekend. Those discussions, and perhaps a bit of writer’s block, prompted Scott to ask me to share some of those thoughts with you via his column.
Having lived in the greater Stevens Point area for three years, I’ve only ever attended Riverfront Rendezvous for the Friday night main stage performance. Typically, we travel to our hometown of Wautoma and spend Independence Day there. This year, though, we decided to take in the full extent of the Stevens Point festivities.
On Friday night, we attended Riverfront Rendezvous, mainly because Scott wanted to see Cory Chisel, the opening act. Having never heard him before, I was pleasantly surprised and enjoyed his performance very much. Scott and I often differ on musical tastes, so this was a nice reprieve.
Having only recently begun working in Stevens Point, I was pleased to run into several people I know, including my new co-worker, Cheri, and her friends, Tracy and Jennifer, who demonstrated the fine art of making your way to the stage during the Toad the Wet Sprocket performance. Typically, when I’ve attended local events in the past, my husband runs into several people he knows, while I watch from the sidelines knowing few people locally until recently.
On Sunday night, we attended the fantastic firework display with our friends, Brian and Johanna Sloss, and their children. I’ve always been a fan of fireworks and truly enjoyed the display… with the exception of the trees blocking some of our view from our spot on Water Street. I guess that’s what you get for parking your blanket closer to accessible side-street parking than at Pfiffner Park.
On Monday, we attended the parade downtown. I was pleased to see the attention to detail that the city places on promoting safety at such an event. The rope barricades were a nice touch, and made me feel more secure as a parent with having my fearless 6-year-old running loose. When he was a toddler, I had one of those kid leashes that looked like an animal backpack with a long tail. I admit that I used it. But I always knew where my child was. I really wish I could have one of those now. When he’s a teenager, he’ll probably despise me for the pictures of him on his kid leash.
There were two incidents during the entire weekend that didn’t sit well with me. While at the parade, a local politician’s aides were handing out fliers. Perfectly fine. In fact, I encourage that. However, one of those aides, and I won’t give away any names, handed my son a stack of pamphlets and told him to pass them around. I can assure you, that regardless of my political affiliations – I did vote for this person in the last election – I promptly trashed those items.
I feel it was rather inappropriate and presumptuous of the aide to request my son to pass them around. At 6, he has no concept of politics, and certainly no affiliations. I would advise any politicians, aides or volunteers who are reading this to reconsider if they are thinking about asking a child to assist them with their political literature.
My second concern took place when two sets of parents sitting to the left of me got into a rather vehement argument over candy. Yes. Parents, arguing over candy. From what I could tell, one set of parents accused the other set of parents of taking candy from their child. The other set of parents responded, using some very inappropriate words in a very loud voice. You can likely imagine what those words were, without me spelling them out.
I’ll admit that I’ve been known to use a curse word or two. And truthfully, I recognize it for the dirty habit it is, and am trying to break that bad habit. As you can imagine, when frustrated, you may hear the words sugar and fudge come out of my mouth in an angry tone…if you happen to be there, please forgive me. I’m trying desperately to replace much worse words.
This parental “exchange” got me to thinking about the holiday, and all that it stands for. How we as Americans are guaranteed the right to speak our minds as a part of the First Amendment. I think this is wonderful. However, I do wish that others would remember when invoking their First Amendment right, that just because they want to say it, doesn’t mean I want to listen to them, and I certainly do not want my child to.
Editor’s note: Jennifer Steuck is the wife of Scott Steuck, the Portage County Gazette managing editor who normally writes this column. He didn’t have much to say, so he thought he’d turn the space over to Jennifer, who always has plenty to say.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, July 8, 2011.
Having lived in the greater Stevens Point area for three years, I’ve only ever attended Riverfront Rendezvous for the Friday night main stage performance. Typically, we travel to our hometown of Wautoma and spend Independence Day there. This year, though, we decided to take in the full extent of the Stevens Point festivities.
On Friday night, we attended Riverfront Rendezvous, mainly because Scott wanted to see Cory Chisel, the opening act. Having never heard him before, I was pleasantly surprised and enjoyed his performance very much. Scott and I often differ on musical tastes, so this was a nice reprieve.
Having only recently begun working in Stevens Point, I was pleased to run into several people I know, including my new co-worker, Cheri, and her friends, Tracy and Jennifer, who demonstrated the fine art of making your way to the stage during the Toad the Wet Sprocket performance. Typically, when I’ve attended local events in the past, my husband runs into several people he knows, while I watch from the sidelines knowing few people locally until recently.
On Sunday night, we attended the fantastic firework display with our friends, Brian and Johanna Sloss, and their children. I’ve always been a fan of fireworks and truly enjoyed the display… with the exception of the trees blocking some of our view from our spot on Water Street. I guess that’s what you get for parking your blanket closer to accessible side-street parking than at Pfiffner Park.
On Monday, we attended the parade downtown. I was pleased to see the attention to detail that the city places on promoting safety at such an event. The rope barricades were a nice touch, and made me feel more secure as a parent with having my fearless 6-year-old running loose. When he was a toddler, I had one of those kid leashes that looked like an animal backpack with a long tail. I admit that I used it. But I always knew where my child was. I really wish I could have one of those now. When he’s a teenager, he’ll probably despise me for the pictures of him on his kid leash.
There were two incidents during the entire weekend that didn’t sit well with me. While at the parade, a local politician’s aides were handing out fliers. Perfectly fine. In fact, I encourage that. However, one of those aides, and I won’t give away any names, handed my son a stack of pamphlets and told him to pass them around. I can assure you, that regardless of my political affiliations – I did vote for this person in the last election – I promptly trashed those items.
I feel it was rather inappropriate and presumptuous of the aide to request my son to pass them around. At 6, he has no concept of politics, and certainly no affiliations. I would advise any politicians, aides or volunteers who are reading this to reconsider if they are thinking about asking a child to assist them with their political literature.
My second concern took place when two sets of parents sitting to the left of me got into a rather vehement argument over candy. Yes. Parents, arguing over candy. From what I could tell, one set of parents accused the other set of parents of taking candy from their child. The other set of parents responded, using some very inappropriate words in a very loud voice. You can likely imagine what those words were, without me spelling them out.
I’ll admit that I’ve been known to use a curse word or two. And truthfully, I recognize it for the dirty habit it is, and am trying to break that bad habit. As you can imagine, when frustrated, you may hear the words sugar and fudge come out of my mouth in an angry tone…if you happen to be there, please forgive me. I’m trying desperately to replace much worse words.
This parental “exchange” got me to thinking about the holiday, and all that it stands for. How we as Americans are guaranteed the right to speak our minds as a part of the First Amendment. I think this is wonderful. However, I do wish that others would remember when invoking their First Amendment right, that just because they want to say it, doesn’t mean I want to listen to them, and I certainly do not want my child to.
Editor’s note: Jennifer Steuck is the wife of Scott Steuck, the Portage County Gazette managing editor who normally writes this column. He didn’t have much to say, so he thought he’d turn the space over to Jennifer, who always has plenty to say.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, July 8, 2011.
Festivus will continue in wake of great man’s death
Although we never actually used a Festivus pole and celebrated the fictitious Seinfeld television show holiday, my father-in-law, Bradley Drews, and I always joked around that we would. After all, who wouldn’t want to celebrate a holiday that features the “Airing of Grievances” and “Feats of Strength”?
Festivus can only end when the head of the household is wrestled to the floor and pinned during the “Feats of Strength.” If we had celebrated the holiday, this would have meant wrestling my father-in-law, or Grandpa as we preferred to call him, to the floor and pinning him. If we had tried, though, we would have failed, because Grandpa was a big man, both in physical appearance and in importance. As a result, Festivus would have continued indefinitely.
But Grandpa is no longer with us, as his nearly two-year battle with colon cancer ended this week. His death leaves everyone who knew him sad, because of his larger-than-life status and the joy he brought to them with his dry sense of humor, his help-everyone attitude and his ability to make people feel good about themselves. But making people sad is the last thing he would have wanted, so I’m going to make sure the Festivus holiday we unofficially celebrated just by joking around about it does continue indefinitely.
While accompanying him during his final days, as countless people came to say goodbyes, many stories were shared about him. These stories amazed me, because looking at my own life I have only a few that could be compared to his many – some I have only because he was involved with them.
In one of his stories as a boy, he convinced his younger brother that the boy was Batman. While doing the Batman song, he told his younger brother to jump off the roof of the house and employ his Batman gliding abilities. The boy did so, quickly falling to the ground and breaking his arm.
Many years later, with three girls of his own, he convinced one of their friends – a city girl visiting their country home – that the dinner he was making was going to be good, because the roadkill he was using was fresh. I understand the look of horror on her face was priceless.
Another time, while fishing with his brother-in-law, a man who thought he was the ultimate fisherman, Grandpa quietly taunted him with each big fish he reeled in as his brother-in-law failed to generate even a bite. Grandpa believed this type of teasing was great, but only if it could be backed up with actions and not just words, as he proved over and over again that day.
One of my favorite stories is the time he went through a fast food drive-through and talked as though he was “breaking up,” much like the fast food workers sound through the junky speaker systems they have to use. He and the guy he was with were apparently laughing so hard about this they could hardly place their order.
Plenty of his stories involve my son, his grandson Braden. When Braden dropped a hat light he had gotten him into a river, Grandpa knew he needed to rescue it. On his way down the riverbank, he slid into a pile of mud, messing himself enough that Grandma said he needed to take his clothes off before getting into her vehicle. So, on the way back, he rode in the vehicle wearing nothing but his underwear. The picture she snapped of this spectacle was made even more hilarious by the smirk under his big moustache, a moustache he was never without and that he told his daughters when they were younger he had because he had no upper lip.
At his favorite place, his cottage on Spring Lake near Wautoma, he had a big treasure chest, which he convinced Braden he got after battling pirates on the lake and beating them in a sword battle. Braden loves telling this story to everyone who asks.
Once at the lake, he planted a fake skeleton on the bottom of the lake, proudly boating people over it and telling them to look at it, often causing them to gasp in semi-horror until realizing it wasn’t real.
I could fill this entire newspaper with more stories, as they are truly endless. Before he left us, he said if we need some good stories about him we should just call one of his friends who apparently have many more that will make us laugh for years to come.
But Grandpa wasn’t all funny stories. Simply put, he was the greatest man I’ve ever known. His actions in helping others made him a loud presence, despite his tendency to be quieter than most people. I can’t count the number of times I saw him helping others – even when he wasn’t physically up to it – and making sure their needs were met before his.
When my own father died when I was 21, I didn’t know how to deal with it. I shut down and didn’t talk about it. It wasn’t until I met Jenny, my wife, and he became involved in my life that I opened up again. He knew I needed that father figure, and he quickly became it. As a result, I became the son he didn’t have, although I didn’t have any of the know-how skills he had an abundance of.
There’s an expression that suggests women marry guys just like their fathers. I might disagree with this, and say guys marry women with fathers just like them. I only hope I can be half the man he was.
In the “Airing of Grievances” during Festivus, people are supposed to let it all out and tell others how they’ve disappointed that person over the past year. With Grandpa, though, that’s something we could never have done because disappointing others is something he didn’t do. It’s a model we all hope to live up to as we continue our lives and remember how valuable he was to us.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, July 1, 2011.
Festivus can only end when the head of the household is wrestled to the floor and pinned during the “Feats of Strength.” If we had celebrated the holiday, this would have meant wrestling my father-in-law, or Grandpa as we preferred to call him, to the floor and pinning him. If we had tried, though, we would have failed, because Grandpa was a big man, both in physical appearance and in importance. As a result, Festivus would have continued indefinitely.
But Grandpa is no longer with us, as his nearly two-year battle with colon cancer ended this week. His death leaves everyone who knew him sad, because of his larger-than-life status and the joy he brought to them with his dry sense of humor, his help-everyone attitude and his ability to make people feel good about themselves. But making people sad is the last thing he would have wanted, so I’m going to make sure the Festivus holiday we unofficially celebrated just by joking around about it does continue indefinitely.
While accompanying him during his final days, as countless people came to say goodbyes, many stories were shared about him. These stories amazed me, because looking at my own life I have only a few that could be compared to his many – some I have only because he was involved with them.
In one of his stories as a boy, he convinced his younger brother that the boy was Batman. While doing the Batman song, he told his younger brother to jump off the roof of the house and employ his Batman gliding abilities. The boy did so, quickly falling to the ground and breaking his arm.
Many years later, with three girls of his own, he convinced one of their friends – a city girl visiting their country home – that the dinner he was making was going to be good, because the roadkill he was using was fresh. I understand the look of horror on her face was priceless.
Another time, while fishing with his brother-in-law, a man who thought he was the ultimate fisherman, Grandpa quietly taunted him with each big fish he reeled in as his brother-in-law failed to generate even a bite. Grandpa believed this type of teasing was great, but only if it could be backed up with actions and not just words, as he proved over and over again that day.
One of my favorite stories is the time he went through a fast food drive-through and talked as though he was “breaking up,” much like the fast food workers sound through the junky speaker systems they have to use. He and the guy he was with were apparently laughing so hard about this they could hardly place their order.
Plenty of his stories involve my son, his grandson Braden. When Braden dropped a hat light he had gotten him into a river, Grandpa knew he needed to rescue it. On his way down the riverbank, he slid into a pile of mud, messing himself enough that Grandma said he needed to take his clothes off before getting into her vehicle. So, on the way back, he rode in the vehicle wearing nothing but his underwear. The picture she snapped of this spectacle was made even more hilarious by the smirk under his big moustache, a moustache he was never without and that he told his daughters when they were younger he had because he had no upper lip.
At his favorite place, his cottage on Spring Lake near Wautoma, he had a big treasure chest, which he convinced Braden he got after battling pirates on the lake and beating them in a sword battle. Braden loves telling this story to everyone who asks.
Once at the lake, he planted a fake skeleton on the bottom of the lake, proudly boating people over it and telling them to look at it, often causing them to gasp in semi-horror until realizing it wasn’t real.
I could fill this entire newspaper with more stories, as they are truly endless. Before he left us, he said if we need some good stories about him we should just call one of his friends who apparently have many more that will make us laugh for years to come.
But Grandpa wasn’t all funny stories. Simply put, he was the greatest man I’ve ever known. His actions in helping others made him a loud presence, despite his tendency to be quieter than most people. I can’t count the number of times I saw him helping others – even when he wasn’t physically up to it – and making sure their needs were met before his.
When my own father died when I was 21, I didn’t know how to deal with it. I shut down and didn’t talk about it. It wasn’t until I met Jenny, my wife, and he became involved in my life that I opened up again. He knew I needed that father figure, and he quickly became it. As a result, I became the son he didn’t have, although I didn’t have any of the know-how skills he had an abundance of.
There’s an expression that suggests women marry guys just like their fathers. I might disagree with this, and say guys marry women with fathers just like them. I only hope I can be half the man he was.
In the “Airing of Grievances” during Festivus, people are supposed to let it all out and tell others how they’ve disappointed that person over the past year. With Grandpa, though, that’s something we could never have done because disappointing others is something he didn’t do. It’s a model we all hope to live up to as we continue our lives and remember how valuable he was to us.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, July 1, 2011.
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