"You don't have a church?!!"

Today, with my digestion in overdrive, I try to write through my food coma discomfort. I feel none of the standard creative tingle, but I do have to jot down the funniest thing that happened yesterday.

We went to Thanksgiving dinner with my mom's side of the family, and it was actually a lot of fun. The girls enjoyed themselves and behaved beautifully.

My aunt, Jen, is about a year and a half older than I am. So, even though it seems like her kids should be cousins with my kids, they are actually my cousins.

We had Thanksgiving at her church, which was great and completely expected, but the real laugh came right after we started eating. Her middle daughter, Jaydee, who is three or four, explained to everyone that we were in "her church."

She then asks us, "where is your church?"

I laughed but then thought hard about what I could say without confusing this little girl. So, on perhaps an evasive whim, I said, "well, it is far away from here."

Then, Emma, (I love her honesty) said plain and simple, "We don't have a church."

Jen's oldest child, Kameron, dropped his fork and said in utter disbelief, "YOU DON'T HAVE A CHURCH?!!"

I was trying so hard to cover my face so they didn't see me laughing, but then couldn't contain it when Abbi (apparently thinking that Kameron hadn't quite heard Emma) clarified by yelling, "WE DON'T HAVE A CHURCH!!!!"

It was amazing. I couldn't help but just bust out laughing. I don't know if anyone else thought it was funny, but I'm pretty sure there were a few chuckles. I can't even describe how much I love those little girls.

We had a conversation on the way home about how important church is for many people in our family and that we always want to be respectful of that. We told them that it is something very special and that if--when they're older--they decide they would like to go to church, we will support them. But, we also told them that we don't want them to ever feel bad that we don't go to church as a family, even if other kids don't understand that and think it is strange.

All in all, it was really a great way to finally find some humor in an otherwise awkward conversation. You can always count on children to disregard the unspoken rule that some topics are off limits and get to the heart of the matter. They always seem to get straight to the point and I think there is plenty for us to learn by their example, especially for me.

Marry me, Juliette

I could think of plenty of worse role models for my daughters. They are HUGE fans of Taylor Swift. In fact, they put on concerts for us all the time. They crank up the CD player in their room and dance around in their "princess" dresses. They bring in the instruments from the Wii Rockband game and "play" along.

Oh, and don't let me forget the singing. I would have expected to hear little girls singing along with their favorite band by the time they reach age 10, maybe 8, but I doubt there are many things cuter than seeing a 5-year-old and a 3-year-old with play microphones, just belting it. (Watch your back, sneezing baby panda.)

Taylor Swift is playing in our house and car SO much, that I have experienced a recurring song-in-my-head-isode every morning for weeks. Through my grainy, sleep-deprived eyes I wander through the house getting ready for work, brushing my teeth, and always thinking or humming, "Marry me, Juliette..."

And, compared to the Barney years, this is just delightful.

My Amazing Aunt Laura (1954 - 2010)

I almost feel ashamed to be associating my incredible aunt Laura with the other drivel that has spilled onto these pages, but I needed a venue to share my thoughts about her funeral yesterday.

My sweet wife has been a friend of the Savage family since preschool. Their home was a refuge from the normally judgmental Utah suburbs. When we heard of Laura's accident, I was upset. Jenny was distraught. When we heard of her passing, I was heartbroken, but Jenny was absolutely floored.

Here I was learning of the death of my own aunt, and needing to console my wife who had no blood relation to her but who had still been so impacted by the life of this wonderful woman that she couldn't even keep her footing. I guess that already tells you a lot about Laura.


My initial feeling is one of deep regret -- that I didn't know more about my own aunt. I wish I had spent more time in her home. I wish when I was a child that I hadn't been such a complete jerk to her daughters. Despite my childish, mean words and lack of respect, she still loved me.

I never knew what an incredible writer she was. I held it all together until her daughter Heather read a poem that Laura kept in their home. And then I really lost in when I listened to one of her own poems written at the age of 11, read in my grandfather's choked voice. I have never seen that man cry, and it was overwhelming.


I don't remember the exact verse Heather read, but from what I can find online it was something like this:


"Cleaning and scrubbing will wait 'till tomorrow, but children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow. So quite down cobwebs! Dust go to sleep! I'm rocking my baby. Babies don't keep."

When I heard that "Babies don't keep" line I just broke. Laura's legacy made me want to race home and hold my own daughters and beg them to forgive me for every single time I have been too hard on them. She reminded me of one of the last movies I watched with the girls, and the harsh realization that I have become more like a Mr. Wilson, the old curmudgeon and less like a Dennis the Menace.


Laura, with her love for life and her endless drive to do everything she could for her daughters and grandchildren, seems to have striven for the latter throughout her years, despite her struggles. Luckily, at her graveside I realized that I was not alone. Her life was reminding many of us (if not all of us) to be kinder to our children. To hold them close and love them completely. To do everything we could to boost their confidence and live as an example of love and acceptance. To ask ourselves the tough question "what will this really cost me?" in every situation where we might feel "inconvenienced" by our offspring.


She showed us what a truly successful life looks like.


Another thing that amazed me is the people she brought together. All of the petty garbage was set aside so that people could join to celebrate her life. Without hesitation Jenny and I joined in hymns, prayers, and set foot back in an LDS chapel after years of avoidance. We didn't give it a second thought. It also made me realize that there is a direct correlation between your last visit to a Mormon church and your last taste of potatoes topped with Corn Flakes, which are beyond delicious. ;)


Laura's funeral also brought together three women in my life I would never have expected to see in the same room. My mother, my ex-step mother, and my current step mother. They didn't sit together and hold hands or anything, but I can tell you that it was a genuine MIRACLE that they were all able to forget about their relationship quarrels during Laura's service.


I wish I had known more about my aunt. I wish I had spent more time with her and known what an incredible writer she was.


From a religious standpoint, I was so grateful for the peace that the gospel has provided to her family and loved ones. Part of me envied their certainty and I genuinely, deeply hope that they are right.


Yesterday I felt something I haven't felt in a while. I don't mind at all associating that feeling with what I used to call "The Spirit" and I certainly don't discredit that.


Even though I can't bring myself to associate those feelings with a particular religious affiliation, I can say without a doubt that they do make me want to be a better man. Laura's life makes me want to do more with my own. She makes me want to be a better husband and a better father. She makes me want to seek out more areas of improvement in my own life and give more to those around me. She makes me want to focus even harder on that which truly matters, and aggressively cast aside all of the other time-wasters that do not.


And for all of those things, I will always be grateful for her and indebted to her life and example.

The Suit Dilemma

I am going to tell you ahead of time that this post is not meant for you. Please feel free to read along if you would like, but I will warn you beforehand that what follows is yet another futile attempt by Dan's colliding brain hemispheres to debate an internal argument.

Today's Debate: Suiting Up - Bunker Gear vs. Pinstripes


Why don't we just agree right off the bat that Dan Workman is one finicky bastard? Seeming to be tossed to and fro by every gusting wind of choice while simultaneously suffering his mini-midlife, this self-centered boy watches gray hairs emerge and realizes the time to become a man is at hand. Will he choose the best path for his family? Will he grow up and finally set aside his cargo shorts and skate shoes? We'll find out... on next week's episode!!!


Just what the hell am I supposed to do with my life?!


For some reason the "Get busy living..." line from Shawshank Redemption has been in my mind lately. Anyone who reads this blog (though I can't for the life of me imagine why) already knows of my fascination with the passing of finite minutes.


As of today, November 5, 2010 I have spent exactly 28.35 years on this earth and internally that seems to be the exact deadline to stop "floating" through my career.


Smarter men make this decision much earlier in life. Braver men never feel the need to make this decision at all. I, on the other hand, am flogged every waking minute with the urgent need to stop wasting my potential, whatever that may be.

And here I am, 28 years and change into my life in probably the best overall shape I've ever been in with a job that I'm not passionate about but at the same time in a very advantageous position. I also happen to have a great boss who truly wants me to succeed at whatever I decide to do. This is where the battle begins...


In the red corner we have the "natural man" (no religious connotation intended). This version of Dan is so dominant over the being that he must be restrained in order for any progress to be made. He is the one who will pull over on the side of the freeway, delighted by the discovery of a free hat or t-shirt. He loathes spending more than $6 on an entire outfit and--were it an actual possibility--would spend his days running through the forest barefoot in only tattered shorts with a knife in one hand and a spear in the other. He believes firmly in a life without technology, wants to spend time every day chopping wood and dipping beeswax candles and would NEVER be caught dead writing on a blog. This version of Dan wants to embrace everything animalistic within him. He wants to wield an axe and kick down doors. He wants to gorge on undercooked or even raw meat and spend the rest of his days with grime packed underneath his fingernails. He is a nomad. He is brimming with testosterone and craves adrenaline. He is always uncouth. He drives without a seatbelt and raises his middle finger to anything established or organized. He is a man of action, rushing headfirst into every new adventure and wanting to experience everything that life has to offer. Because of all of this, he probably won't live to see 40. He also desperately wants to be a firefighter.


In the blue corner, we have the "rational" version of Dan. This loving father and husband wants nothing more than to provide for his girls. He wants to give them every comfort they desire and then some. He needs work, and help, but has the potential to be the post-bath version of the Encino Man. He cleans up pretty well when he wants to and actually looks alright in a suit. He has a pretty good head on his shoulders and has the potential to excel at a career that requires creativity and people skills. In a blurry haze, a distant future, he can see himself playing golf with clients and picking up his clothes from the dry cleaner. He keeps a schedule and never lets himself forget that he is an adult. He only wears his cargo shorts on the weekend and even then, he ALWAYS remembers to wear socks with his skate shoes to minimize the smell. He shaves and flosses with regularity, not just while driving and running late. He doesn't worry about money, because he makes more than he ever dreamed possible. He still lives in a humble home. His wife drives a 2009 Subaru Forester and he drives a 2005 Tacoma. In the garage next to it sits a $3,000 to $4,000 motorcycle which he always rides whilst helmeted, because safety is more important that thrill. Maybe he still cliff dives or bungee jumps or sky dives once a year to keep from becoming a complete and total pussy, but he works hard to make that adrenaline rush last at least 8-12 months. He sips at it and savors it, rather than looking for every chance to bathe in it. When his kids watch the latest Pixar movie, they get it on Blueray in 1080p and on at least 50 inches. And, most importantly, even though they don't expect it of him, he has the means to take his kids to Disneyland and his wife on an anniversary cruise, just because he feels like it. He thinks about things like retirement and college funds. He wants to give his children a better future than his parents and his wife's parents left to them. Maybe he works for a volunteer fire department once or twice a week. And, only very rarely, when nobody is looking, does he eat steak with his fingers.


The decision looms, demanding attention before January. On one hand we have a ticking clock, reminding me that I will never be able to become a firefighter after age 32 in some departments, age 35 in others. I have a slot waiting for me at the DATC fire academy and applications floating around all over the country. I have the opportunity to do something that excites me personally, but somewhat at the expense of my family. Will daddy come home after work this week? Will I be left raising these kids on my own? Will we have enough money to make ends meet? Is choosing a job for myself and my passion an act of selfishness?


At the same time, dozens (if not hundreds) of men with more credentials and qualifications fight in this job market to get a position just like the one I already hold. Without meaning to I have been working toward a promotion since 2006. I have developed skills and qualifications that may very well have opened up the entire country and the potential of a six-figure income. I have a manager who is backing me 110%, a very limited number of other people standing in front of a very limited number of doors, and only my own dragging feet to hold me back. I am working for a company that will explode with opportunities for advancement during the next 5 years. I don't care about money but after years of working in finance I do understand what it can mean for my wife and daughters. With that in mind, I feel a little like Scrooge McDuck, poised on diving board of gold with a welcoming pile of cash below.


Do I take the plunge or do I throw it away? I don't care about wealth and I know that regardless of my income I will do everything in my power to instill a sense of humility and work ethic in my daughters, but does that mean I should stay poor on principle?


Is there really a line between selling yourself short and selling out?


The brutal truth is this:

On the firefighting front, I am already coming in late to the game. Aside from possible physical changes (for better or worse) I won't be bringing anything new to the table at age 31 than I am now. Now or 3 years from now I am going to be testing against 18-year-olds, which doesn't concern me from a physical standpoint but will always be the case in this career.


During that three year period, at lot could happen with my current job. I could probably get those promotions and there would be new offices opening up all over the country. "You look at a map and tell me where you want to work," my boss says to me. "We'll make it happen." That is, of course, no guarantee. But at the same time, in this industry assurances like that are few and far between.

So, the rational thing here is to give the white collar work a little more time. It makes sense. It is reasonable. But even with that understanding I can't seem to make myself give up my slot at the DATC, even though I know that money might go to waste. I also can't imagine turning down an offer if I make it through the testing process for the Wichita Falls Fire Department in Texas that I will be starting next week.


I don't expect any of you to read this, let alone help me make my decision. But maybe 15 years down the road I will be able to look back at this with either gratitude or regret in my mind. Maybe I'll be working in a nice office and feeling my heart ache every time I see a firefighter in the jump seat driving past my window. Or, maybe I'll be struggling to pay the bills, working a second job on my days off and wincing as I haul some fatass out of a window after my third shoulder surgery and wishing I'd allowed the more mentally sound version of myself take the wheel back in 2010. Either way I am determined to hit the ground running once I choose which direction to take in this fork of life's road. I like to meet all of my bad decisions face first at a sprint.


Eenie... Meenie... Miney... Mo? But even that just leaves me with the new decision on whether or not to include the friggin Tiger's Toe verse...


“All our final decisions are made in a state of mind that is not going to last.” -Marcel Proust