About David Lange

David is a new writer to TWR and he's not 100% sure what his wheelhouse is. He knows it's not politics, poetry, or penmanship. Maybe it's alliteration? David hopes that writing with TWR will eventually get him noticed by his high school English teachers who said that he didn't pay enough attention in class.

Daddy Issues: Episode 1, Sick Baby

Warning: may contain graphic descriptions of bodily fluids, bodily solids, ectoplasm, and sarlac pits.

Further Warning: may contain spoilers on fatherhood, toddlerhood, sleep deprivation, bath-time, bed-time, and The Man in the High Castle (because I’m loving that show).

babymemeHello and welcome to the first installation of Daddy Issues. There are so many Mom-blogs out there, which makes sense because moms are super important (go call your mother, this article will still be here when you get back. Just tell her hi for no particular reason. She’ll dig it.) There are a lot of Dad blogs out there too. It makes sense that there are so many of these because parenthood is a vast treacherous landscape full of ROUS, Bogs of Eternal Stench, nebulizers, nipple stimulation (check with my editor, can I say nipple?), and in rare cases “crossing the streams.”  This is a journey that simply cannot and should not be travelled alone. I need Gimli’s Ax and Legolas’ bow at the bare-minimum (toddlers aren’t so different from orcs you know).  

I know what you’re thinking, “I get enough pictures of kids I don’t know or care about on my Facebook feed, I don’t need to come to TWR to read about more”. Well, that’s not my plan. I’m not here to just dote on my children (though they are totes dote-able) This is more like an insightful expose on the ins, outs, ups, downs, somersault-y, highly-explored, yet still under-understood world of parenthood. The highs are to the moon on a magic carpet ride with Aladdin and Jasmine (nevermind how we’ll breathe) and the lows are like the scene in Kill Bill where she’s buried alive in the coffin (except as the average parent you do not have extensive ninja training, and instead of punching your way out you think to yourself “ah yes, this is a nice quiet place to rest”). If you have kids hopefully you can identify, enjoy, and share in this journey. If you don’t have kids but want them someday, this is written to begin to prepare you heart, mind, and soul. If you don’t have kids and never want to have kids, this is your window through which to look, laugh, and say “ha! This is why I don’t have kids” while sipping a latte that no one is trying to throw, begging for a sip of, or putting fish crackers in while you’re not looking. FYI, if you are in that last category, and yet someone is doing a, b, or c, you need new friends. Continue reading

You Have to Start Somewhere

About six years ago I was into biographies. Well, kind of. I had read a fantastic biography called Jack: A Life of C.S. Lewis for a class and it flipped a switch in me. See, before that time I was all about the fiction. Science Fiction, fantasy, novels, short stories, it was all fiction all the time. Give me a hero to save the day or a tragedy to lament, but make them creative and multi-faceted, entertain, and excite me! Then I read the aforementioned biography. I read about this ACTUAL person, that ACTUALLY existed, who had ACTUALLY made a difference in what we know of our universe. It didn’t take away my love for fiction, but it intensified my desire to know more about the people in our world who have done interesting things with their lives.

It was nearing Christmas time and my mother-in-law asked me what I wanted for Christmas and so, I requested a few biographies. Who were some interesting folks that I could learn about and in the process, perhaps learn from? How about Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr? They seem neat.

Christmas day comes and I get autobiographies of both! Woo hoo! Score! I start reading Gandhi’s story that very day. Over the course of the next few weeks, when I had time, I would pop my head into the life and times of Gandhi. I made it about three-quarters of the way through the book before something happened. Something that I think every reader hates. I got bogged down with things that I HAD to read. School work, work-work, I had books upon books that needed to be read, so that when I had free time to read things I WANTED to read, I didn’t want to read at all! I escaped instead to Netflix, Hulu or online gaming. Anything to get my nose out of a book.


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That Time I Was Abducted By Aliens: Conclusion

It’s dark. It’s very hot. I’m sweating. My head feels like a small Mike Tyson is inside of my skull trying to punch his way out. My hands hurt too.

I was in fact in the back of a red Honda Civic hatchback, laying on a pile of dirty travel clothes and empty cigarette boxes. I tried looking at my hands to see why they hurt but my eyes were not listening to my mind about where they should be looking. Then I don’t remember how, but I must have passed out because the next thing I remember was lying in a soft bed.

My head wasn’t pounding so bad, but my hands still hurt. I could open my eyes, but only for a few seconds at a time. It seemed like I was in a hotel room. I saw a woman standing by a sink with the water running. She started walking toward me and pressed something on my forehead. It felt nice and cool.

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That Time I Was Abducted by Aliens: Part Deux

(For part one of this story click here)

It was becoming apparent to me that my friends had changed their plans. These were the pre-cell phone years. You got ditched a lot. Or at least I did.

I started to walk away, figuring I’d head home and watch Kung Fu instead of paying for cold air and entertainment from a movie theater. I was about to turn the corner around the building and thought I should wave goodbye to my new traveling acquaintances. As I turned, Holt was standing directly behind me, less than a foot away with his hand reached out toward me.

I made an odd, unflattering noise somewhere between a muffled scream and a loud burp. Holt immediately started apologizing for startling me. “Aye, sorry boot that, did’n mean to poot you oof. Just thought maybe you’d want to goo’n see the movie with us, aye? We’re seeing Indiana Joons and the Last Crusade.

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That Time I Was Abducted By Aliens

In 1989 during the weird period between spring and summer, when it’s too hot to have any fun but not hot enough to get in the pool or run the air conditioner, I was abducted by aliens.

I know, that sounds absurd. I said it that way on purpose. I wanted to get your attention. They weren’t ET aliens, they were Canadians. They came into the country for a visit and decided to stay long term. I don’t know why they decided to stay and I certainly don’t know why they were visiting Clovis, New Mexico.

Their names were Brenda and Holt, a young couple, maybe 22-25. I was never good at telling people’s ages.  Brenda had that French-Canadian accent though she hardly talked between chain smoking cigarettes, whereas Holt talked like a walking stereotype. It was ‘aye’ this and ‘aye’ that and ‘aboots’ and apologies abounded.  They were both very non-descript in the looks department. Short dark hair, brown eyes, thin but not especially fit looking. The only way I could have recognized them in a line-up would be due to Brenda’s abnormally bushy eyebrows and Hol’ts Freddy-Mercury-mustache, which by the way, he was not pulling off.

When I met them at the gas station, they were asking for directions to the movies (Brenda called it the “cinema’) from the attendant, and Holt was apologizing for asking and then apologizing again for lord knows what, listening?

The gas station attendant gave them fine directions, but I was wanting to meet up with some friends over there anyway, so I offered to show them if they could give me a ride. They were thrilled to give me a ride. Well, Holt was thrilled. Brenda seemed not to care, though it kind of looked like she smiled through cigarette puffs.

So we got into their dingy red Honda Civic hatchback and headed towards the ‘cinema.’ It was only 10 minutes away, but it felt much longer, since I was cramped in the back with all of their travel gear and the car did not have AC. Brenda was puffing away, sending little baby clouds of smoke out her window while Holt, chipperly chatted away, telling me all the places they had visited on their trip so far: Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Reno, Vegas, Grand Canyon, and now Clovis, New Mexico. They were just stopping here for the day to relax before they got back on the road to Dallas.  I was pretty impressed that they had gotten so much done in the two weeks they were in town. Especially since I was 14 years old and had yet to leave New Mexico.

When we arrived, they had to help me unwedge myself out of the car. We were all three standing in front of the movie theater now. I was waiting for my friends to show up and Brenda and Holt were deciding which movie to see. It wouldn’t have been so awkward, except that Brenda kept looking at me weirdly, without saying anything. She was starting to give me the ick.

*to be continued