Gibbs probably doesn't feed birds

The blue jay circled above the house. He could see the bird feeders in the backyard and a few birds fluttering around. He was unsure if this space was safe or if he should move along on down the line. Then he spotted it - the symbol that let him know that all was safe and good. He landed on the edge of deck and then made his way to the food. It was a good place and he knew he would return.

There are three things you should know about my dad:

1. He likes to watch NCIS reruns on USA (even if he has seen the episode multiple times)
2. He maintains three bird feeders in his backyard, including one for hummingbirds
3. He has a high tolerance for the ridiculous and the silly which serves him well in our family

My parents really enjoy the birds that seem to flock to their backyard. It's probably the one thing that they truly like about their house and where they live. The bird feeders are on the back deck and you can watch the birds from the kitchen table. I imagine it's a nice way to start your day - a little coffee or tea, some cereal, and the baby woodpecker and it's mama. Nature - that's what they get for living out in "the country." My mother likes spring best (I think) since all the baby birds are around and it's fun to watch them figure out how to fly. My father seems to enjoy identifying the birds and even has a bird book (although I don't know that he uses it all that often).

Here's the thing - I think that my parents, particularly my father, are helping to create an entire generation of lazy birds. What happens when my parents move? Will instinct take back over and the birds will remember how to forage and find food on their own? Will the squirrels remember how to store food for the winter? What will happen? My dad usually laughs at this, ignores my comments, and moves onto another conversation. He knows that they're birds and they'll figure it out. No need to worry. Cue "The Circle of Life."

Hobo symbols

It's a common conversation I have with my dad whenever I visit. One day, a few years ago, I was watching a re-run of Criminal Minds and the episode's plot had to do with a killer that was murdering people along a train line. Dr. Reid (it may not have been him but I think he's adorable so I'm going to pretend that it's him) discovered some marks along the tracks. He tells whichever other agent is with him about how hobos used to use symbols to communicate with other hobos about the area. They might share if there was a kindhearted woman (with a cat of course) or if the police were a problem. Anyway, the killer was doing something similar along the train line and killing people. I may be off on the plot but the second Dr. Reid started talking about the hobo trail and the symbols, I figured out what was going on at my parents' house.

Their house is a stop on the hobo bird trail.

I'm convinced that the birds have figured out some version of the hobo symbols and fly around the country making the marks on houses and other buildings or whatever to let other birds know what's up. Other birds flock to the house and enjoy the food and then they leave a mark for birds that come after them. I'm not entirely sure what the symbols look like but I'm convinced that my parents' house has every single one of the positive symbols that are available. Squirrels apparently know about it too; there's one there now and he's enormous. If the hawk is still around, it will get him at some point because he won't be able to run away.

So I told my dad that I thought his house was a stop on the hobo bird trail. Because my father is used to the ridiculous things that I say and think up, he didn't really react at first. He thought about it for a few minutes and then asked me a bunch of questions about how I had come to this conclusion. I told him about the Criminal Minds episode and he said, "I watch NCIS." I love that my father completely ignored the ridiculousness of what I was saying and focused instead on my choice of television show. He seemed okay with the idea that he was a stop on the hobo bird trail AND that a hobo bird trail even exists. In fact, I think he was sort of proud of the idea that he's helping the birds.

Some takeaways from this experience:

1. I haven't watched Criminal Minds since this conversation. Now I watch reruns of NCIS but only reruns on USA. I don't keep up with the current season.
2. For all you dads or soon to be dads out there: develop the ability to accept the weirdness of your children. I appreciate that my dad doesn't judge any of the weird things my brother and I have come up with over the years and on occasion, he joins in.
3. There is a hobo bird trail. If you want to be a stop on it, make sure to always stock the bird feeder and be kind to the squirrels that figure out the game. 
4. Learn something new everyday even if it comes from an unusual source. I wouldn't know about hobo symbols without Criminal Minds. I also cannot leave the shower curtain closed when I leave the house because I'm concerned that Tim Curry's serial killer character will be waiting there when I come home. Thanks Criminal Minds.

Happy Father's Day Dad! Enjoy the birds and continue to cement your place as a prime stop on the hobo bird trail. Maybe you should add a bird bath. I'm sure they'd enjoy the new amenity.

Coming soon to the Island: More summer themed Lazy Movie Weekends (including one on my favorite John Waters movies), Pickles the cat will get into more trouble in an adventure about the end of the world, and I'll visit an amusement park for the first time in 10 years.

 Hobo symbols

Hangin' Tough

Happy Father's Day! I hope all the dads out there are having a rocking good day.

My dad is one of my favorite people in the world. Like my amazing mother, my father is pretty rock star. He puts up with our jokes, crazy schemes and general ridiculousness. He rolls out the cookies at Christmas time and makes a mean pecan pie.

I've learned a lot from my dad: how to fix things, why you need to rotate the tires on the car, how to organize a car for a cross-country move, laundry, why you should drink red wine (although I tend to ignore this), how to colorfully swear at slow traffic (and mumble so other passengers in your car don't hear), that men should take care of their of their families, and that dads can fix just about anything. It's true - they can. Even by phone when I'm having an anxiety attack. Dads are superheroes and my dad is right up there. I thought about buying him a cape for Father's Day but then I realized he's super nice and he'd probably wear it and that would be embarrassing (mainly for him; I would think it was funny).

First concerts are a very important rite of passage for most people. I remember my first concert very well. I was eleven years old (which is sort of young by most people's standards), it was 1990, and the concert was New Kids On The Block. It was at the Superdome. My dad went with me.

Yes, I save everything.

Imagine the Superdome filled with rabid Saints fans. Maybe this will help:

Now replace the Saints fans with pre-teen girls obsessed with NKOTB. Screaming, singing along, wearing band t-shirts and buttons, wavering posters (that the band will clearly see in the nosebleed section and will of course, immediately fall in love with you and ask you to marry them or something), dancing around. Standing next to each pre-teen is a bored and overwhelmed parent whose ears are about ready to bleed from the screaming and the music they can't stand. True parental love.

I got tickets to the New Kids concert for my birthday that year. One ticket for me, one for my dad. This was not a time when parents dropped a kid off at a concert and went to hang out with other parents waiting around for the madness to end. Remember this was 1990 and this concert was at the Superdome. No one would let their eleven year old go to any show at the Superdome alone. So my dear dad had to suffer through the screaming and the singing and the dancing. I don't remember his ears bleeding or him complaining. It's also possible that he spent part of the concert remembering the Rolling Stones show he and my mom saw a few years before at the Superdome (Steel Wheels tour, 1988). Maybe that got him through.

Eventually (like a year later) I was no longer interested in boy bands. I had moved onto rock bands (and punk and metal bands). My second concert was Def Leppard on election night in 1992. I remember Joe Elliott announcing that Bill Clinton had won the election. And guess who my concert buddy was? You've got it - my dad. I think he might have enjoyed this one a bit more. He even knew some of the songs and didn't seem to hate it at all. If I remember correctly, he even shared that one of my uncles used to get stoned and listen to Led Zepplin and Def Leppard (he liked On Through the Night).

Over the years, I've been to a few other concerts with my dad but none of them were as amazing as NKOTB. I even tried to convince him to go see them with me again when the band toured a few years ago. He respectfully declined and I just couldn't go to see them without him - it wouldn't have been right. Parents do a lot of stupid stuff they don't want to when they have kids. I'm sure no one wakes up one day and says, "Gee, I'd like a two-tone blue Ford Aerostar minivan." Or "Yes, let's watch Annie again. I love that musical too." That's what you do when you love your kids.

So thanks Dad for doing the stupid things and the great things and the awesome things for me all my life.

Just for fun, here's a flashback to the early 90s for your Father's Day enjoyment. You're welcome.

Superdome image from espn.go.com

Video from youtube.com