Read the Whole Post, And I Might Let You Clap the Erasers

The junction of the writer/editor in me and the obsessive-compulsive in me is not a pleasant place.

I understand that language evolves. I believe it should or it loses its ability to accurately reflect the current culture. But I still can't help getting annoyed by misuses and abuses, especially ones that seem to be products of laziness or ignorance and not legitimate attempts to communicate something for which the right word truly doesn't exist.

With that somewhat overbearing intro behind us, here are four that have particularly grated on me:

1. Untracked.
This mainly comes up in sports, as in when a team is struggling to score points the announcer says that its offense "needs to get untracked." At first I thought I wasn't hearing correctly and they were saying "on track." I was familiar with the expression that something was "off track." Then I started seeing it in print and realized it was intentional, but I still have no idea what it means. I think it had to have come about from people hearing "on track" and thinking they heard "untracked" and just running with it without really thinking it through, in Purple Haze fashion. Shouldn't "tracked" have a definition that meant something bad for "untracked" to mean something good? I've never heard one.

2. Nother.
As in "a whole 'nother" something -- story, issue or whatever. This one probably doesn't even count any more, since it shows up in most dictionaries. I think that's a case of the linguistic guardians throwing up their collective hands as much as anything and crying "Uncle!" over the realization that it simply wasn't going to go away. Some of them cling to a shred of traditional respect and use words like "misdivision" or "informal" in the definition. But if it was a REAL concept, couldn't you have other divisions of nothers besides just whole ones? Have you ever seen a half nother or a quarter nother? I guess nothers always travel with wholes in the same way that kaboodles are always found with kits.

3. Judgement.
The British spelling of a word that Noah Webster decided long ago Americans should technically spell "judgment." I've seen the British version in decidedly un-British places, like the TV show Iron Chef and the publication Funny Times, which describes itself as "America's ad-free cartoon and humor newspaper." I suppose if someone wants to act British, that's fine. It worked for Ministry for a while. I just hope they also use colour, centre, defence and so on.

4. Everyday.
An adjective that I often see used in place of a two-word adjective/noun combo, as in "open everyday" instead of "open every day." I'm all in favor of conservation, but I didn't know there was a shortage of spaces in the world that needed to be addressed. I'll have to try harder to do my part nexttime.

Well, I feel a little better for having given voice to my inner middle-school English teacher. Part of me still feels like I should ask you all to write "I will not use a pronoun without an antecedent noun" 100 times, but I'll resist the urge.

Class dismissed!

Can Our Kids Really Be Too Safe?

It's amazing any of us made it through childhood alive, given all the things in widespread use to keep kids safe today that our parents never made available to us. Things like car seats, bike helmets and bottled water. My sister and I used to enjoy riding in the back of my dad's pickup on the highway, and I'm pretty sure he wasn't secretly hoping we'd somehow bounce out.

We went to visit my mom's family in upstate Vermont regularly when I was a kid. Some of my fondest memories involve playing in an old gravel pit behind my grandparents' house. I used to imagine I was commanding a band of special covert operatives that included everyone from Han Solo to Captain America in an endless variety of missions. Running through rotting wood and rusty nails to rescue a damsel in distress. Sliding down steep embankments to sneak into enemy territory. Except for the tadpoles I'd sometimes catch in rainwater puddles, it was usually just me and my imagination. And I had an absolute blast doing it.

Some of my neighbors and I were talking tonight about the types of things we did as kids that we'd never dream of letting our own children do now, like playing in that old gravel pit. I read a great article on the subject recently by Lenore Skenazy, an op-ed columnist at The New York Sun. She actually has an entire web site devoted to the premise that we're not letting our kids truly embrace life and learn to make tough decisions which I highly recommend checking out if you're a parent with young children. Whatever your position on the topic, it's thought-provoking stuff.

In her article Skenazy observes that "these days, when a kid dies, the world — i.e., cable TV — blames the parents." She stops there and doesn't go a step further to suggest that protecting OURSELVES -- however subconsciously -- may be part of the underlying motivation for today's acceptable standards of protective parenting rather than just protecting our kids. Protecting ourselves against the potential guilt, shame and grief that would come from anything happening to our children, to the point where we see virtually NO risk as acceptable. We buy into the same flawed logic that champions of some causes hold that if something saves just one life it's worth it, with no consideration of the cost.

But Skenazy believes passionately that there is a cost associated with our increased standards for what's required to keep our children safe -- a cost in independence, freedom and decision-making that our kids need to prepare themselves for later in life. An interesting parallel to some of the sacrifices in personal liberties we as a nation have made in recent years in the name of security, regardless of what Benjamin Franklin said.

This is becoming a bigger and bigger issue for Danelle and I to deal with as Zak and Taryn grow older. I hope we employ the right balance of common sense and caution as we make our decisions, and that our kids benefit as much as possible from whatever our decisions are.

Fortunately for Zak and Taryn, Danelle's mom just has another patio home behind her house and not a gravel pit. Or unfortunately, I suppose.

UPDATE: Skenavy e-mailed me with the following message:

I really do think fear of blame is terrifying us parents as much as fear for our children's safety. In a society that supposedly has gotten beyond "blaming the victim," we still feel ready -- nay, eager -- to blame the PARENTS of a victim: "Why did she let him cross the street?" "Why wasn't she in the same room with her?" "Why did she blink?" Anyway -- great blog and great points. Your fellow tree in the forest -- Lenore "Freerangekids.com" Skenazy

St. Mary's Glacier

Many thanks to my neighbor Dave for mentioning St. Mary's Glacier last night. At just 3/4 of a mile, the trail was a nice length for the kiddos. And yes, I know it's not technically a glacier since it doesn't move. Doesn't make it any less cool (pun intended, horrible as it is).
Not the sharpest picture (this is where I whine about how hard it is to take good pictures with one hand), but the sight of three chipmunks was too cute not to include. One guess what Zak and Taryn decided their names were.
Danelle loves it when I show her signs like this from the places I take our children.
Zak informed me rock jumping was one of his super powers. Then it started to rain and the rocks got a bit slippery. Kryptonite!
Taryn had consistently referred to the lake we were headed to as the "pool." Despite Zak's efforts to convince her otherwise, she found her "pool" a bit too chilly. Funny how a snow melt lake can be that way.
Mr. Polar Bear went in up to his knees to prove it wasn't too cold for HIM.
The contrast between the snow field and the lush green wetlands it bordered was pretty striking.
Zak tried to offer photographic guidance as Taryn protested that she knew what to do...
...then proceeded to take this shot of the ground, complete with part of her finger.
The first Bistort I've seen this season.
Attempts to take a nice posed picture on the glacier were foiled by a noticeable lack of traction.
Zak's shot of the snow field. Some other kids had brought sleds along, which seemed to me like a sure-fire helicopter ride to the hospital waiting to happen.
Gorgeous view back down to the lake.
Another wildflower I hadn't seen yet this year, Lovage.
This is the kind of thing that happens when you let a seven-year-old lead. You end up having to scramble when your path along the lake dead-ends. Second whine about only having one functional hand.
A young Douglas Squirrel, also known as a chickaree. Not to be confused with either the chickadee or Secret Squirrel.
A short side trail led to a really picturesque waterfall.
One day in the not-too-distant future, they won't do this sort of thing any more. That will be a sad day.
Two hours and 20 minutes up and down. We totally lucked out that the early rain gave way to sun for most of the hike. I've got to channel my inner Boy Scout and be more prepared the next time I take the kids up to the mountains, just in case we're not so fortunate with the weather.

I Have Problems With Authority

Technorati is a terrific resource. I much prefer it to any other tool for finding individual posts and even blogs about specific topics.

That said, I'm really not a big fan of their "Authority" metric for a number of reasons.

1. It's based solely on how many other blogs link to you, not how may incoming links you have from all sources. This seems like the same kind of close-mindedness that many bloggers decry in the traditional media, only in reverse. Bloggers hate when the media dismiss anything having to do with the blogosphere out of hand as inherently less relevant than something one of their own comes up with. Why then would Technorati do essentially the same thing? Is a link from one of my sports-related posts really a more valid measure of how "popular" (Technorati's word) another blog is than a reference on, say, ESPN.com? It smells sort of like high school cliqueishness -- the opinion of anyone in another group doesn't matter as much as the opinion of people in MY group. The risk of that sort of thinking is that you eventually lose sight of the complete picture when you consistently exclude outside views, and end up with a skewed sense of self-importance. Technorati Authority fosters that among bloggers.

2. Despite this supposed myopic focus on blogs, Technorati doesn't seem to actually include ALL blogs. I'm not exactly sure what their definition of a blog is. I've usually considered it to require things like a personal voice (or voices) rather than an institutional one, tag-based archiving and the ability for readers to both subscribe and post comments. That could be why things like the "blog light" functionality we added to BroncosCountry.com last year doesn't seem to qualify. It has commenting, but not subscription or archiving. What, then, about something like Associated Content? They call their contributors "content producers" rather than bloggers, but they sure walk like ducks. So for whatever the reason, Technorati doesn't actually include the input of everyone they claim to in their rankings. I guess there's someone in every clique who nobody actually listens to.

3. Technorati only counts a link from any individual blog to your overall Authority once in a six-month period. I think I understand the motivation -- you want to prevent anyone from artificially cranking up their Authority by having a couple of their buddies with blogs "stuff the ballot box" on their behalf. But once every six months seems a little excessive and basic. I'd think a slightly more complex algorithm that factored in both time and frequency on a sliding scale would be an improvement. So the first link from a particular blog earns full credit, a second link from that same blog a day later is worth very little, a third link three months later is worth somewhere in between and so on. Someone geekier than me could figure out the specifics, but the premise seems sound.

4. Assuming this whole thing is automated, what the heck takes them so long to make their updates? For something that measures one of the trendiest tools on the interweb, it certainly doesn't move at the speed you'd expect. And the inconsistency is maddening to me. My own Technorati page, for example, doesn't show any of my posts from the past SIX days. But it did record a new incoming link from just two days ago. But my Authority hasn't been updated yet to reflect that link. When do they say this blog was last updated? Four days ago. Talk about not inspiring a lot of confidence or credibility.

Maybe I'm making too big a deal of this. But if I was the only one who cared, then four of the top 10 links when you do a Google search for "technorati authority rating" wouldn't be to tips on how to increase it.

UPDATE: I tried SIX TIMES to send the content of this post to Technorati using their contact form to get their feedback, and each time got a page with the following text after clicking the Send Message button:

"Doh! The Technorati Monster escaped again. We're currently experiencing backend issues and are working to resolve them as quickly as possible. We apologize for the inconvenience and appreciate your patience."

When I hit Refresh, I was taken back to my form with all my input fortunately still there but the following message at the top:

"Your Captcha response was incorrect. Please try again."

Trust me when I say my Captcha response was NOT incorrect.

*beats head against keyboard*

It's Always Better to be "The Hammer" Than the Nail

Texas Ranger Josh Hamilton's amazing performance in last night's Home Run Derby is a storybook tale of redemption -- a former heroin addict turning his life around and and becoming a Major League All-Star. I was saddened to learn courtesy of Deadspin yesterday of another such tale involving another Texas sports figure who's ending has yet to be written, that of former SportsRadio 1310 The Ticket host Greg "The Hammer" Williams.

I was living in Dallas when The Ticket launched in 1994, and like many who tuned in I was immediately hooked. The locker room humor, the frequent forays into pop culture, the great feeling that you were part of a community of like-minded idiots individuals who were also "in on the joke." And all neatly tied together by the twine of sports! Just tremendous stuff.

I dragged Danelle to the inaugural Ticketstock at the Dallas Covention Center, essentially a glorified autograph and memorabilia show. The station had a promotional Hummer they called "The Panther," so I dubbed my 1996 RAV-4 "'Lil Panther." When my co-worker Kevin Prescott and I spotted morning show co-host George Dunham at the Southwest Conference baketball tournament, we yelled his name and proudly gave him the "Ticket Salute" -- essentially an upward extension of one's middle finger.

I listened to the morning show pair of Dunham and Craig Miller more regularly than Williams' midday show. Dunham & Miller's shtick had more to do with mock interviews with personalities like Ribby Paultz, a phony "draft expert" patterned after ESPN's Mel Kiper Jr. who made up terms like "arm coefficient" for his analysis. They also had "the fake Jerry Jones" on regularly to discuss the Cowboys. My friend Adam Hill and I still laugh about their Reader's Theater bits which included very-un-PC characters like "freaky homicidal cop Johnny Hernandez" and his vows that he "will keeeellll the Playmaker!", based on Michael Irvin's bizarre saga of cocaine and Penthouse Pets.

Writing about this stuff doesn't do it anything remotely resembling justice. It was usually hilarious, and it definitely formed bonds between listeners.

During one of my first NFL drafts with the Broncos I was discussing the Cowboys with some of the media folks, and I dropped a line that "the fake Jerry Jones" used, complete with the bad impression. A voice behind me exclaimed, "That's YOUR car with the Ticket sticker!" And that's how I met Blake Olson, who had joined KUSA in Denver as a sports reporter after five years in Dallas with KTVT. Like I said, the stuff formed bonds.

Williams' show with co-host Mike Rhyner, "The Hardline," probably had the most tight-knit community of listeners within the larger Ticket family. Many callers became personalities themselves. There was Herman in Oak Cliff who called Rhyner and Williams "Mahmoud and Abdul" in reference to the NBA player who went by the name Chris Jackson before his conversion to Islam, and the provocatively named Naked in Bed. The conversations between callers and hosts sounded more like something you'd overhear between friends in a sports bar than the condescension and air of superiority other sports radio hosts gave off.

Rhyner played the part of the crotchety contrarian. He tried to dismiss all the fawning over Tiger Woods that had already begun with a dismissive growl of "What has he ever won?" I remember him ranting about being tricked into taking his daughter to a No Doubt concert when he heard "Don't Speak" and assumed all their songs would be mushy ballads, only to find a pierced, manic Gwen Stefani bouncing around the stage to the band's ska-punk repertoire (Editor's Note: I saw them open for Fishbone in 1992 before they got big. Phenomenal.).

Williams, for his part, was Everyman. A blue-collar good ol' boy and drinking buddy. One of my favorite pieces of Hammer wisdom -- though not one I subscribe to -- was his explanation of why he always sought out chain restaurants like Ruby Tuesday when eating on the road. "It ain't gonna be great, but it ain't gonna suck," was his defense. That sort of logic was Hammer in a nutshell.

The one Hardline bit I loved was a weekly competition of sorts simply called "Y'know." They played a short snippet of an interview with Cowboys linebacker Dixon Edwards where he said "y'know" about a zillion times -- sometimes twice in a row and even a few "rare triples." Then they played another interview clip with somebody else and scored it based on the number of verbal pauses that person used -- "um," "like" or whatever. Edwards was never defeated. Again, something that probably doesn't seem that funny when you read about it but was absolute hilarity to hear.

More than his actual commentary I remember some of the advertisers Williams shilled for. Like North Main Barbeque, home of "the great Ray Green." "Don't forget that $10 bill," Williams would say, which was the price for their buffet. And Maury Lowry of Dalworth Auto Electronics, the "King of Free." My buddy Adam had to stop me from going there one day not too far before Christmas to take advantage of one of their too-good-to-be-true car stereo specials because he knew Danelle had already bought me one. And the Big Apple Sports Cafe in Arlington, where Rhyner & Williams did a Rangers' postgame show and Adam, my best friend from high school Dan Gibson, my dad and I gathered to watch the Rangers clinch their first playoff appearance.

The fact that Williams' wounds are mostly self-inflicted doesn't prevent me from feeling empathy for him, especially given all the joy he and the rest of The Ticket brought me. He may not be able to hit 500-foot home runs, but I'm hoping he continues down a similar path to Hamilton and gets another chance to do what he loves and excels at.

Stay hard, Hammer.

I Guess That Would Make Me The "One-Armed Bandit"

I had my first follow-up from last week's wrist surgery with my hand doctor today. They actually did let me stay awake during the surgery, but I remember almost nothing about it. Sort of like freshman calculus except for the staying awake part.

I do know that they let me watch some of the arthroscopy, but I don't have the foggiest idea what I saw. Fortunately they gave me a picture that they took of the ligament damage. It probably won't find its way into the family scrapbook, but it's neat to have.

One thing I do remember is that I was pretty chatty throughout the whole surgery. Probably a combination of the nerves and the anesthetic. When the surgeon came out to talk to Danelle afterwards about how things went he mentioned to her I asked the same questions over and over. I asked him today if I'd said anything embarrassing, and he just smiled and replied, "The operating room is like Vegas -- what happens there, stays there." I'm sure that policy comes in handy for malpractice suits, but I still appreciated his discretion.

So now I have a spiffy hard cast protecting my wrist. Even got to choose the color. I would have picked green, but the only shade they had was a garish fluorescent one. Then I thought how much Taryn would like it if I went with pink, but Danelle wryly commented that it might not be the best choice if I get an interview. So I ended up with just a nondescript blue which has been considerably improved by Zak and Taryn's artwork.

I've actually never had to have a cast before. All my previous injuries have been sprains or strains or other things that don't need to be cast to heal. I do remember when I was a kid that our family dog, Meghan, hurt one of her front legs and had to have one. She couldn't really move the leg well, so she just sort of dragged it around. Eventually she figured out that when our cat was asleep if she walked over her just right the cast would smack her right in the head.

So Danelle better keep being nice to me. You never know what unfortunate mishaps could occur during the night when I'm leaning over to adjust the alarm clock, or something.

What Has It Got In Its Pocketses?

Zak's older cousins sent him the little custom binder they used to use to store their Pokemon cards. He was very excited about this, and immediately put his entire card collection in it. That's entire as in not just Pokemon cards, but also baseball, basketball and football.

As we were walking into church this morning, I was surprised to see Zak's new binder in his hand. "I forgot I was holding it," was his rather unconvincing excuse when I took it from him. Fortunately it was small enough that I could quietly conceal it with my Bible and not have to explain what I was doing with it.

Zak knew he wasn't supposed to take his toys places they didn't belong. He'd been scolded before for smuggling little goodies that fit easily into pants pockets to school.

I really freaked him out one morning when I saw that he had stuffed some cards into his backpack. I just took them out and didn't say anything. He sheepishly told me that night that he had lost them, and was amazed when I produced them along with a stern warning not to do it again. I never did tell him how I got them -- nothing wrong with your children thinking you just might have supernatural powers.

What's interesting to me is that I did the same thing when I was his age. I actually remember getting into trouble one summer for bringing things like a little plastic chimp from a Barrel of Monkeys and a Matchbox car on the bus to summer camp and not letting other kids play with them.

What's the explanation for this behavior? I can't exactly recall my own motives, but it's probably a fair guess that I wanted attention. Of course I couldn't let the other kids play with the toys I brought, because then I would no longer have the attention that came with those toys. There was a little cruelty and selfishness in this approach, too.

I don't sense the same intentions in Zak. Of course, when I ask him why I typically get the standard "I don't know" (quivering lower lip optional). Sometimes when he manages to get cards past our morning security check he tells me very excitedly at the end of the day that he'd traded cards with another kid. They seem like honest trades where both parties leave happy, too. Not like when Scott Bulgaro talked me out of my O.J. Simpson rookie card. But I digress.

Unlike the young me, I think Zak's motives are more altruistic. Or at least more inclusive. If he's trading cards, that means other kids are bringing theirs. I don't think Zak's trying to stand out as much as he may be trying to fit in -- just finding something to do with his friends.

Part of the reason I don't want him taking stuff other than school supplies to school is that he already sturggles to stay focused sometimes. I'm afraid knowing he had an action figure in his backpack would be too much for him, and said action figure would come out at an inappropriate time. But maybe getting to bring his trading cards could be an incentive instead -- something for Zak to look forward to at recess and lunch.

I guess it's worth a try when he goes back to school next month. But right now, I need to decide if I'm going to accept Pastor Corey's offer of two Articunos and a pack of Big League Chew for Zak's Ancient Mew. I guess that binder wasn't COMPLETELY hidden...