On the way home tonight, I thought of a letter I should write to my children.

Be unique.

Be exceptional.

Be unbearably quirky, undeniably different, inexorably intimate.

Wear clothes that make you more like you and less like others.

Wear a derby hat-because no one else does.

Wear pink pants with a green shirt because you can.

Sing songs seldom sung.

Sing harmony.

Sing out of key.

Learn to whistle while you’re young and practice often.

Make everyday more joyful, and contagiously inflict joy upon your world.

Save all your change and dine exquisitely for just one night.

Smell the things around you.

Do something different,

Something weird,

Something dangerous.

Do something that others can laugh at and laugh with them laughing at you.

In all that you do, question why you do it.

Mark this world while you are here.

Mark it with beauty.

Mark it with passion.

In all that you do, leave your mark, and relentlessly refuse to be slightly better than your peers.

Live life like love was never lost.

Love again.

And again.

And again.

And again, until you

Call those that never call you.

Befriend the friendless.

Refuse at all costs to be average.

Be extraordinary.

I would say all of this knowing that I am helplessly average.

It is hardly proper for me, the person who had the pleasure of a remote control and VCR throughout most of my memory, to poke fun at the Tivo generation, but my daughter gave me pause this morning.  While watching the morning cartoons in the kitchen, on one of our too many televisions, I missed an interesting advertisement and noted such to the daughter.  She said “well just rewind it.”  Again tonight while watching a DVD, the daughter instructed us to “rewind” to replay a vanished line.

In the Tivo/ondemand/youtube world information is at our fingertips and we can always grab clips of Michael Richards fiasco on some outlet just as easily as catching a missed episode of your favorite sitcom.  I love how easy it is to forget about the TV 4.0 life.
On a side note, as I was composing this post, the daughter asked what I was writing, and I said “you, I am writing about you.”  She responded, “You are writing, ‘This girl is such a wonderful girl.  She is always kind and thankful and never hurts anyone.’ Is that what you are writing?”  In so many words…

Dear Disney:

Tonight we took the daughter to your Disney on Ice spectacular. While the prince was slaying evil on ice, Darth Disney, the dark suited piracy purger, was confiscating video tapes from the dangerous mothers of the gallery. Good job sir.

I understand. The problem is that the quality of most home video recorders, which is carefully gripped in a mother’s hand steadied by her elbow firmly seated on her knee, provides such high quality recordings that people have all but quit attending your shows. If one of these videos were to perhaps ever be played again after the family comes home, families may never again attend one of your shows. I know families that are famous for sending one family member, preferably an adult who is not vulnerable to your glitch tactics dazzling array of spinning lights and cotton candy at $10.00 per piece, and then the whole family is able to experience that spectacle of your shows at only a fractional cost. I, for one, watch so many of my home movies that the tapes have worn thin.

Particularly, this new era of YouTube-MySpace-Web 2.0 mania, it is very possible that someone may video record a wonderful time that they had at your show and possibly slip some free advertising for you on the Internet. That would be outrageous. I am very glad that you are headstrong in preserving the old world media and not letting anyone infringe on your copyright.

In fact, when the man in the dark suit approached the mother of two precious princesses devious devils, I am sure that she was first shocked when he ripped the video-cassette from the recorder, but I am quite sure that after she recovers from the pain and humiliation of the night’s events that she will come to respect the lord of copyright. She will likely harbor no resentment for your company, production, or Darth Disney and will most definitely become a repeat patron. It is the forethought into developing meaningful relationships with your customers that sets you apart from all other song and dance!

I just want to reiterate how joyous the whole experience was tonight. It is funny, at one point, I pulled out my phone to begin to pen this letter but because of the camera on my device, one of the attendants came to make sure I was not video recording your production. Geez, I am so glad they were able to set me straight. The evening was so much more enjoyable knowing that the aisles were filled with attendants who were focusing on families having a wonderful experience the protection of the copyright.

Sincerely,

Jeremy Floyd

PS: Even though it is 2006, maybe if you focus your efforts you could find one 10-12 year old girl that looks very innocent and sue her. The RIAA did it and I heard it is working out very nicely for them.

On the way to work/preschool this morning, the daughter and I were listening to NPR.  In a half conscious daze reeling through the day’s task list, I tuned out the tuned station.  The daughter said “that would not be fun.”

I asked her what she was talking about. She said, “getting killed in a tornado.”

“Um, yeah, we should listen to some music,” I told her.

Typical morning conversation:

3 year old daughter:  “Daddy, was I in Heaven before I was born?”

Me:  “Well, actually that is a great question.  First we have to distinguish between the physical and the spiritual or ‘animus.’ Philosophers often debate over the creation or pre-existance of spirit.  I, for one, believe that the animus and the physical creation occur simultaneously at conception, and that man does not necessarily pre-exist his body but does post-exist his body.”

3 year old daughter: “Daddy, I like Fruit Loops.”

Me: “I do too, little girl.”