Ok. Today I am better. I made it to bedtime without exploding, imploding or otherwise self-destructing.
Today, the anger is mostly gone. I'm even tempted to send Beck an email and thank him for helping me learn proper communications skills. I have decided I can accept not sending emails to broad campus lists. My penchant for frivolity, cuteness and other forms of amusement cannot get me in trouble if I don't send stuff out. I've committed myself to just send the technical details of any communication to Tech Babe and let her rewrite it and send it out. Problem solved.
Yesterday, Rob told me to do that and I could not accept it.
I have an appointment with a trusted professional and, once again, I will attempt to learn more about why I'm angry and how to deal with it. I am skeptical. After all, I did go to counselling on several occasions several years ago. I can't say that I learned much. I have to have faith though. I know that if I don't get better at handling anger it is going to cause me and my loved ones great pain.

Switch gears!

So why do I call myself a child of the 50's? I used to think I was a child of the 60's but now I know better. I joined "the establishment" well before I started my teaching career. I had to smoke pot at least a dozen times before it ever did anything for me. I never got in on ANY free love. I graduated from college in 1969, a virgin, and I never came close to getting laid. I am not remotely interested in any social causes like protesting the School of the Americas. I have no interest at all in groups like PITA (that outfit that protests using animals for testing cosmetics and that raids mink ranches freeing all the mink). I'm not a radical and I never have been.
What I am is a child of the 50's. I'm more into Norman Rockwell. While I have not always been a good family man, family is one of the ideals that I hold dearest. I realize at this point in my life that there is nothing I value more.
My parents taught me to conserve things. I've been known to eat most of the core of an apple because that's the way my mom taught me. My dad taught me to eat chicken wings and the "last over the fence". Lots of people would turn up their noses at the neck of the chicken. Dad taught me not to waste.
I'm Catholic and though there is a lot that I don't agree with, I think it still enriches my life and I consider myself one who is faithful to and values religion. It's so wonderful to work at St. Norbert where the Catholic tradition is emphasized. There are many cool priests that are my friends. There is noon mass on holy days. It's so different than working all those years in Cedar Grove where Protestantism is the norm and parents forbid their children to date Catholics. It's no fun being in the minority.
I do owe a lot of my observance as a Catholic to my wonderful loving companion of 30 years, Liz. She is strong where I am weak. I would have laid in bed many mornings rather than attend Sunday mass were it not for Liz. She doesn't make excuses. Now, Sunday morning is one of my favorite times. Liz and I go to mass, then we go grocery shopping. Sometimes we go out to dinner before we buy groceries. Then we come home, put the groceries away at 2 p.m. and proceed to take a nap. Sunday morning is magic. I am reminded of that Kris Kristofferson song, "Sunday morning coming down". I hope to learn the words and music someday. And one of my favorite moments of all time? The feel of Lizes hand in mine as we say the Our Father during mass.

I suppose it's easy to proclaim myself a family man at this stage of my life. I admit, I didn't always enjoy going to soccer matches, basketball games, swimming lessons, wrestling meets and band concerts. I hate to admit that I was selfish. That, however, was yesterday. I can't change the past.

I know that today, the values that are associated with Ozzie and Harriet, Leave it to Beaver and Norman Rockwell are more important to me than Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll that were the buzzwords in the 60's. Oh, I wanted sex, I took a few drugs and I love Rock and Roll. I find though that I can still like these things but have, as my bedrock, the values of a simpler, gentler time. That time was the 1950's. We didn't have television. We listened to Chicago radio stations. We heard rock and roll for the first time on stations like KOMA in Oklahoma City, WLS in Chicago and KDKA in Pittsburg. None of the local radio stations would play Gene Pitney, Chuck Berry or the Coasters.

That's all for today.

Caio, babies!