Writings

Writings

Words From Paul

“The dead heads are still around…On many occasions I have had what many refer to as a shit day, only to be stopped by another head to talk about the music I love, reminding me how beautiful life really is”.

“If life is just a show then, I wanna be on stage. If history is just a book then, I want my fucking page.” 

“Your mind is your greatest tool or your worst enemy.”

Rapists, Murderers, and a Slow Day at the Restaurant: 2019

I stood at the counter. The restaurant was a ghost town. I work at a café in the middle of the Chicago loop where we serve the lunch time rush. Today, however, most employees had been called off or told to work from home. A Chicago police officer was to stand trial for the murder of a 17 year old African American child, and the word on the streets said that if the jury didn’t call for justice, the city would. If convicted, this would be the first Chicago police officer to be convicted of murder while on duty in over fifty years.

The restaurant I work at is set up almost like a big Sub-Way. There are revolving doors that lead to an “L” shaped counter with four different stations and lines for those stations. Customers walk up to the station that sells what they desire, receive their food, and walk around a decorative set of wire shelves with jars of various condiments. A simple, little maze for the business types as they take a break from their hamster wheel. My sector of the “L” is the farthest from the front door, and when it’s slow I tend to just let my mind wander as I space out over the restaurant.

I’m a tall, awkward, white male with what I like to think of as a well-trimmed beard. I wear a chef coat and a hat with an apron and a name tag. I am the only person at my restaurant that was born in America. My chef is from Ireland, and the rest of my coworkers are from Mexico. There are other people that work in the back office, but other than my tall, awkward, Irish chef, no one stands over five foot six. In my restaurant, I stick out like a giant glow stick.

Now, the reason that no one was in the restaurant that day was a trial that was happening also in Chicago that same day. The trial was for a police officer that felt the only way he could subdue a teenage boy with a knife was with sixteen bullets. If the man didn’t have a badge you would hope it would be an open and shut case. However, the man did have a badge, and while the case seemed pretty simple, an on duty police officer hadn’t been convicted of murder in half a decade. Which is insane when I think about how much I see Eddie Johnson on the news.

Eddie Johnson has a seemingly weekly slot on the local Chicago news stations, where he will be camera ready to defend his colleagues by the time the mangled remains of his brethren have entered a body bag. He is a black police chief of Chicago that is constantly on T.V. defending the killing of largely young African Americans. Every time it’s a jumbled up version of the same message: it’s just protocol.

My chef came by to inform me that if the verdict was read “innocent,” we were closing the restaurant and wishing our coworkers a swift and safe commute home. We honestly could have closed right then, for how dead the restaurant was. I looked up at the ceiling. The ceiling above my station is made of white tile, it reminds me of what we had in my high school. It was obviously very old, almost every corner of every square tile was brown and rotting away. Into the restaurant, there is a black wire ceiling that vaguely disguises the black pipes above it. I looked down at my phone to see if I could find any news on the trial. All I found was that the verdict was to be read at one forty-five in the afternoon.

I began to think about what I was going to do that weekend. I have two jobs, my other job is as a hockey referee. The day before, I received a letter in the mail informing me of my indefinite suspension. I had worked with the company for ten years, and I guess now was the time they decided to do a background check. I completed a very intense probation that left me eligible to get my felonies off my record, but I hadn’t gotten around to the actual expungement yet. Tomorrow I would have to write a letter to the organization telling them exactly why they should give me my job back.

Maybe two months ago, some guy whose name I can’t remember announced that he would be stepping down from the Supreme Court. This would allow President Donald Trump to appoint one more Supreme Court Justice. The problem was, within about two to three weeks from when the nominee was announced, someone came forward with a story about how he had tried to rape her. Donald Trump and his brainwashed swine all chanted “Fake News!” and the talks about the morality of rape began. I saw a segment on Fox News where a man claimed that there was no way it could have happened, and if it did he can’t be held responsible because he was both only seventeen years old and he was drunk.

The first time I went to county jail was when I was seventeen. I was an adult in the eyes of the law. My felonies are drug possession charges. I didn’t even sell drugs, I just had them. I’m constantly held accountable for actions that I have already paid debts to society for. I’ve been denied for low level employment simply because of charges on my record, not even convictions. Every court case I’ve ever had has lasted at least a year while the prosecutors decide what they can get me for.

Meanwhile this fucking asshole is accused somewhat credibly of sexual assault, and is approved for a lifetime appointment to the highest court in the country? They certainly weren’t willing to overlook my non-violent offences when I applied at Wal-Mart. The one thing I will never understand about Americans is we seem to have this obsession with freedom, but not with our own bodies. The freedom to impose on others is never in question. Rapists often get a slightly smaller sentence than drug dealers. I dig my thumb into the cutting board next to me as hard as I can. I can feel the muscles in my forearm strain as the rest of my body tenses. I feel like I’m red.  

“Diez minutos!” I heard from the back. It must be one thirty-five. Thank god, sometimes I get so angry at work. I speak Spanish, but not well enough to really fuck around like everyone else does, so I get stuck in my own head a lot when it’s slow.

Almost two o’clock. I see Kenny walk out of the office with a big smile on his face. “Guilty! Second degree murder.” Kenny is an African American male with short black hair and a build like a teddy bear. His belly jiggled through his shirt as he danced through the maze informing all of us of the good news. We all had a sigh of relief, now that riots were officially out of the forecast we could all plan our weekends.

With victory comes defeat, and I feel that between these two rather historical events there is a lesson of some sort. Systemic racism is how we got to this point, and systemic classism is how we will stay here. However, it would be foolish to confuse the two. The top of the pyramid rises and the elite have a harder time differentiating the different colors of those they feel are beneath them, but it has not always been that way. I felt I had been unjustly oppressed by the legal system while I watched someone accused of a much more serious offence skate through legal ramifications because of his standing in society. When I was in jail, I remember an older black man telling me I had gotten the “white boy” treatment in my sentencing, as he had seen many people sent to prison for the same offence as me. While I understood what he was telling me, it took me until much later to understand. That day, spacing out over an empty restaurant is when I finally began to comprehend what he taught me. He taught me that while I am justified in feeling oppressed, I am still privileged. As I watched Kenny’s big ass wiggle through that empty restaurant, I stopped to take a breath. I can stand with you, I can raise my fist, but I can never truly know. I finished the work day and prepared to beg for my job.

Paul’s Letter to the Hockey Committee: 2018

To Whom This May Concern,

I recently received a letter informing me of my indefinite suspension from USA Hockey. While I completely respect the necessity of this action, I would like to request a hearing for an opportunity to appeal this decision. In September, I attended my tenth consecutive officiating seminar. Officiating hockey was my first real job when I was only sixteen, and I attribute much of who I am as a person to the values, ethics, responsibility and community that the referee community introduced me to. In this letter, I would like to explain my side of my suspension, what I have done and what I plan to do correct my past actions, and my value to the officiating community. While I understand that this letter has no guarantee on my future as a part of USA Hockey, I hope to clear any confusion and portray an attitude of responsibility and maturity to the hockey community that I have felt proud to be a part of over the years.

When I first received the letter, I was a bit surprised. Not because of the content of the letter, but because of the timing. My last arrest was approximately two years ago, and since then I have completed a very intensive probation that has left me eligible to have almost my entire record expunged. In my late teens and early twenties, my lifestyle could have been described as reckless to say the least. I did many things in my past that I am not proud of now.

The probation I was to complete for my most serious legal charge was very intensive. I had to report to my probation officer once a week, report to a judge once a month, and submit to random drug tests anywhere from one to three times a week. I am one of the only people I know that completed this intensive probation on the first try, without any hiccups. I am also the only person I know that could use his former probation officer as a reference. In completing this probation, the county of Cook has rewarded me with a credit for Cabrini Green Legal Services to have my record expunged. Within the next six to twelve months, I am on track to return to a legal record that would not bar me from employment.

Even since before my arrest, I believe I have proven myself to be a very valuable employee. I have developed a rapport with my fellow officials, assigners, and coaches. I have been asked on many occasions to both stay for games where officials had not been assigned, or to complete games by myself. This past Sunday, for example, when leaving the MB Centre, I was asked to stay for a squirt AAA HPHL game that referees had not been assigned to. I completed the game by myself, and I worked the game with the attitude and vigor the skill level warranted. This is only one example, and in a longer review of my decade officiating, I’m sure I could find many more.

My receiving of mentioned letter came at a very stressful time. I have a 7 month old daughter and a fiancé that I support on my income alone. I work a full time job, attend school full time, and had been officiating as well. Almost every hour of my life had been slotted with purpose to either improve myself as a person or fulfill my responsibilities as an adult and parent.

I hope that upon reading this letter, I may be granted a hearing for my case. If I am not able to return to refereeing, I will lose a big piece of myself. However, if that be the case, I will forever be grateful for the time I have had. This job has helped me through the toughest times of my life, and while if not able to return it will leave a void hard to fill, I believe that the maturity officiating has helped me to obtain will allow me to accept my time as an official as a part of my past that I will forever cherish. Thank you for your time in reading this letter, and I hope to talk to you soon.

In closing, I would like to request confidentiality between only the board members this immediately concerns. If allowed to return, I would like to promise a personal explanation to my colleagues as necessary as well as anyone else that would need to be informed. I hope to portray an attitude of willingness to reasonably correct and assume responsibility for my actions.

Paul’s status was reinstated after this hearing and he continued to referee the sport he loved in the city of Chicago and the Northwestern Suburbs until he died.

Life’s a Party

You said your life was meaningless, but it weant something to me,
and I’ll forever be grateful for every single memory,
they say that life’s a party, man, I wish you would have stayed,
they say that life’s a game I guess you didn’t want to play.

And when you left you didn’t leave any one a note,
No, a message to me was the last thing that you wrote.
It said nothing new you’d said it all before,
what it really said is that you can’t take it anymore.

They say that life’s a party, it’s a shame you had to go,
one day I’ll tell you about all you missed but you’ll already know.
When I see you again I’ll cry, just like when you left,
a party in life, a party in death.

I said my life was meaningless, but it meant something to you,
and I’ll forever be grateful for every time you pulled me through.
They say that life’s a party, man, you made me wanna stay,
they say that life’s a game, you made me wanna play.

Everything I ever had, I’d give it all to you,
the price I’d pay for you to stay oh only if you knew.
I said my life was meaningless, but it meant something to you,
and I’ll forever be grateful for every time you pulled me through.

They say that life’s a party, man, you made me wanna stay.
They say that life’s a game, you made me want to play.

Squat House

Paul Napholz

Grant

English 151

February 9, 2016

The Squat House

            For those who don’t know, a “squat house” is a house that no one legally owns, except for typically the bank, and since no one is legally living there, homeless people, such as myself at the time, take up the space.  “Squatters,” actually even have rights. It can vary from state to state, but in New Mexico in 2011, if a house had been uninhabited for a year and a half and squatters moved in, the police legally could not ask them to leave. Actually, I’m not sure if that’s exactly what the law says, I never looked it up. I’m citing nothing but my own experiences with the police.  However, this isn’t a story about the police. It actually doesn’t even have all that much to do with squatting.  This is a story about how a misunderstanding with neighbors can escalate extremely quickly, especially when those neighbors know how to create make-shift mustard gas.

            So how did I get myself into this situation in the first place? I had been living underneath a bridge in downtown Santa Fe, New Mexico, and had a friend who had been living under a tree just outside of town.  I ran into him on the street, and he began to tell me about how he had just paid this lady he had met 350 dollars to stay in a horizontal duplex style house in a neighborhood just outside of town.  Knowing that my current living situation classified me to most people as a troll, he invited me to stay with him.  Keith (the one from the tree), and I hopped on a bus to go check out our new home.  On the way, he explained to me that his girlfriend, and our friends James and Tyler would also be staying with us. He also explained that there was no electricity, but that we would have running water. I thought it to be a little strange, but knowing he paid some woman for us to stay there, I felt reassured.  We arrived at our new pad, decorated a little bit, and paid the neighbor to our back door $5.00 to let us hook up an extension cord to his house so we could use his electricity.  We ran the cord into the house, and used a string of Christmas lights to power everything that required electricity.  Everything was going great, until our neighbors on the other side of the duplex noticed that we were there.

            They informed us that the person Kyle had paid to let us stay there didn’t actually own the house. This came as quite a surprise to us, but having already paid rent for the month, we were reluctant to leave.  They decided to call the cops to try to force us to leave, and that’s when things got really interesting.

            They were right, the lady didn’t own the house, thus making us squatters. What was more interesting was that the neighbors who called the cops on us turned out to also be squatting.  This is when we all learned about squatter’s rights. The cop said that because the house had been vacant for over a year and a half, we were both within our rights to stay there. The officer then informed us that we were not the first people to stay in the house we were staying in, and that our neighbors drove out the last occupants in a matter of about two months. 

            Anyway, so some time passed, and things had been relatively mellow between us and them, with the exceptions of some screaming matches. One day, we were all playing Grand Theft Auto on our Christmas light powered Play Station 3, when we heard the sound of shattering glass.  We looked up to see a brick laying in the pile of glass that once was our front window.  We all jumped up and grabbed the closest possible weapons in sight. I grabbed my skateboard, James grabbed his longboard, and Kyle ran to grab his crossbow (I swear, I’m not making this up. He actually had a crossbow).  We ran outside, but saw no one. They had vanished. We were now all on edge, but after a day or two of silence, we started to ease up, until another brick came through our other window, followed by pretty much the same scene.  Now we had no windows, and it was getting to be October.  The nights started to get pretty cold.  We were still determined to stand our ground, and started plotting our retaliation.  Before we could formulate much of an attack plan, we saw something that looked like a bottle of cleaning product fly through the hole that use to be our window.  There was some sort of gas spewing from this bottle, and within a few seconds, it became extremely painful to breath. The gas was also getting into our eyes, making it extremely hard to see. To this day, I have no idea what exactly it was that they threw into our house, but I do know that that’s when we decided to call it quits.  Having a roof over our heads was great, but it wasn’t worth this warfare.  I wanted my bridge back, and was hoping to God that no other troll had claimed it.

            So, the big question, what did I learn from this? Or better yet, what could someone else learn from this?  First off, be grateful for what you have. If you have a nice bridge to sleep under, don’t get greedy and try to sleep somewhere that you’re not wanted.  Furthermore, if you move in somewhere for free, and a brick comes through your window, you might just want to call it quits right there.  Also, meth head tweakers are a lot better at urban warfare than they appear to be. 

There is another message about how life is what you make of it, and for me, personal happiness comes from more than material possessions. I was happiest when I had absolutely nothing.  However, that conclusion would put me much past the 3-page mark, and would probably warrant some sort of rant that is uncalled for at this time.  So, I’ll sign off leaving you to decide for yourself what there is to be learned from a situation like this.  For me, I found that if you go from living under a bridge, then to living in a squat house, then get attacked with some sort of chemical warfare, then go back to living under a bridge, and this is just one of the ridiculous stories you have, it’s really hard to go back to live in the suburbs of Chicago. Don’t expect to be anything but extremely bored.

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 1993

* * *  M E R R Y   C H R I S T M A S  * * *

I like to take this time to write a brief note to our friends and families, letting them know what we’ve been doing over the past year (and the timing is right because the stamp is already on the Christmas card envelope).   

You know, last year, the words “Who’s Barney?” actually came out of my mouth?  Needless to say, over the past year, Brenda & I have become quite familiar with the purple monster (ar-gar-gar-gar).  Well, if Barney were writing this letter, he’d say that the Napholz family had a super-dee-duper year!!!  

The “experts” say that a stress filled year is one in which you either a) move, b) have a kid, or c) change jobs.  Last year, as you may or may not know, we hit on both “a” and “b”.  Since we didn’t feel like moving or having a second “bundle of joy”, we thought we’d do the next best thing and both change jobs.  To make things interesting, we decided to do this one week apart.  Brenda left her activity director position at the nursing home to become a fuller-time mother.  I left the bank for “personal reasons” (I needed a greater commuting challenge), and am now employed by Allstate Insurance Company as an investment analyst.  I’ve noticed that after I tell people that I work at Allstate, they get hesitant because they think I’m gonna try to sell them life insurance.

Paul is now fifteen months old, and he’s constantly teaching us new meanings to the phrase “baby-proof”.  When he started walking at about eleven months, we thought it was really cool.  That lasted about three days.  He started discovering things like you don’t necessarily have to flush a toilet to make it do a whirlpool.  His other major discovery is that if you push the button on the bottom of the TV set, it turns off!  Then it turns back on!  Then off!  Then on…  He checks both of these on a daily basis, and we find that it’s just as thrilling for him the last time as it was the first.  

Woody, that little bitch, has also stepped out in new directions.  Last year, it was the hole to China.  That project has been temporarily put on hold as she began her new hobby, whittling.  As there is not a large supply of wood laying around the house, we have admired her resourcefulness in finding adequate supplies in both the basement (the staircase) and the backyard (the neighbor’s fence).  You know, we sat around the house when we first got her and said, “What kind of a moron would name a girl dog ‘Woody’?”  And thanks to my “ingenious” idea of chaining her to a sixty pound bucket of cement (she kept pulling the stake out of the ground), I now have a dog capable of pulling a sled in the Iditarod. 

The house is coming along well, but Brenda keeps finding more projects for me to do.  At the rate I’m going, the mortgage may be completely paid off before I get to the last thing on the list.  The highlight of the year is that I haven’t screwed anything up enough yet to significantly reduce the value of the house.   

Finally, we would just like to wish everyone a happy and healthy holiday season, and all the best in the coming year.  For those of you who have not heard from us since last year, Brenda’s new year’s resolution is to be more communicable.

 Take care, and hopefully you’ll have us over for dinner soon.  

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 1994

MERRY CHRISTMAS

I know, I know, these Christmas letters get old.  But hey, it’s the only time of the year that we get to communicate with everyone.  Besides, the stamp is already on the Christmas card envelope, so in my book, it’s a freebie.

Well, I could probably fill the page with Paul stuff, but I’ll keep it brief.  The good news is that I haven’t heard the name “Barney” in probably six months now.  The bad news is that Paul is in to show tunes.  I’m not sure if this is the result of some mammoth parental hex placed on me years ago (and compounded over time) after being caught putting rocks in the family wagon gas tank (I was very young at the time), or a consequence from naming him Paul (after my father, an avid show tune junkie).  Either way, I’ve got a two year old who thinks his last name is Von Trapp and knows every word on the Sound of Music soundtrack.  Every time we get into the car, the first words out of his mouth are “Daddy, Yo-lay-hee-hoo, please?”  Well, if it’s a hex, I’d better brace myself for the Yankee Doodle Dandy phase.  If it’s the name, I’ll have to prepare myself for him mowing the lawn in shorts, black socks and dress shoes.  More on that next year…

Bren has been enjoying her first full year of semi-retirement.  She has entered the realm of motherhood with all the joy and sheer hell that goes with it.  Because she’s been staying home with Paul, she’s been able to take him out to Las Vegas for extended vacations, which has been great for both of them.  We’re still trying to get her out on the golf course on a more regular basis, although I think that in the end that would be a major source of frustration for her (I’m speaking from my own personal experiences with the game).  Overall, she’s had her hands full trying to keep up with Paul and Woody, but she’s come through it all pretty well.  Bren and I have been married for five years now, and I’ve devoted that portion of my life to preparing her for dealing with a two year old.  I don’t mind saying, I think I’ve done a pretty good job.

As for me, this has been my first full year at Allstate.  Compared to working at the Japanese

Bank, this job has been GREAT!  I can talk fast, I can use slang, and people get my jokes (sometimes).  People are always bringing in food, and I’m a happy (chubby) guy.  As for the house, I’ve got the pegboard up in the garage for my screwdriver, and I started a garden this year as well.  I was especially pleased with the way the cucumber plants were coming in until I realized they were weeds (I was tipped off when I saw “cucumbers” growing along the side of the road one day).  I got a little nutty with the Christmas lights this year, although nowhere near the Griswoldian proportions of my neighbors.  If you’re in the neighborhood, stop by and take a look.  My guess is that they’ll be up until April.

Finally, Bren, Paul, Woody and I would like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and great new year.  Hope to see you soon.  

The Napholz Family

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 1995

MERRY CHRISTMAS

I know, I know, you see this letter in the card and think, “My God, not another one!”  Well if you don’t like it, stop reading and go open your bills.  Remember, this is a freebie for us (the stamp is already on the envelope).

I’d say all in all that 1995 was pretty good.  Paul is now three years old and constantly learning new things.  He’s mastered the art of holding his toy phone between his ear and his shoulder as he walks around the house (hmm… I wonder where he learned that).  He also is pretty good at getting Woody to come in from the backyard.  He just opens the back door and screams, “Woody, get your butt in here!” (hmm… again I wonder…)  His newest “thing” (with the exception of Halloween) is to play dress up.  So far it’s been a slew of things, the most notable being Construction-Worker Dave, Fireman Paulie, Michael Jordan, and Kramer (the Bear’s quarterback, not the guy from Seinfeld) – – and each time we have to address him appropriately or he gets mad.  For this reason, we’re doing our best to keep him away from news footage of the Vatican (Pope Paulie?).  Nevertheless, he’s nearing that magical age when I can get him started on the yard work.  Hell, he can start Brenda’s car!  I figure it’s just a matter of time before I get him to fire up the lawn mower.

Woody has had a pretty tough year.  Paul’s cut down dramatically on the amount of food he drops on the floor when he’s eating, but that hasn’t stopped her quest to become the second heaviest member of the household.  At 90 pounds and growing, she’s closing in fast on Bren.  Frankly, I’d be a little surprised if she went after top honors in the category since she’s got a long, LONG way to go (and I won’t go down easily).  It wasn’t long ago that Woody turned our neighbor’s fence into a pile of toothpicks, so it only made sense that we put up a wooden fence of our own.  The neighbors are pretty happy about this, since they don’t have to hear and see me standing on the patio in my underwear at 3 a.m.

screaming (softly) at her to come back into the house.  We also got her “fixed” this year.  I’m pretty happy about that, since I typically encounter an underwear crisis when she goes into heat (somehow, my underwear was used as diapers for her, which turned out to be a real treat for the neighbors, as well).  Brenda’s ecstatic, since dog breeding isn’t exactly her forte. 

Speaking of breeding, Brenda’s pregnant and due in May.  It seems the day-to-day mayhem created by a three year old and his dog hasn’t created enough of a challenge for her, so we’re upping the ante (the alternative was another dog).  As it stands, Bren is probably in the best shape of her life from having to chase Paul around.  Likewise, Paul is in great shape from having to keep up with Brenda.  One thing is clear — neither myself nor Woody can keep up with either Brenda or Paul.  In anticipation of our coming addition, Bren has ordered me to finish the basement.  Because I’m such a handy guy, this project is moving right along.  She actually ordered this last November, and when I realized she wasn’t kidding (I got a circular saw for Christmas and a tool belt for

Valentine’s day), I got right on it.  I’m not sure what was going through her head.  I can’t even blame the hormonal imbalances of pregnancy.  As a result, however, I’ve been spending my weekends at the hardware store and down in my own little dungeon.  My only problem now is that she’s expecting me to actually finish this project someday.  I keep thinking that it won’t be long before Paul gets old enough to help.   

The rest of the house continues to come along, as well, although the “honey-do” list on the refrigerator seems to be getting larger.  I finally had a decent year with my garden.  The rabbits seemed to think so anyway.  After putting up a two foot barricade (with a little fence over that) around the garden, it became just a little depressing to watch rabbits frolicking around the yard with little strawberry remnants on their mouths.  I noticed that they cleverly opted against disguising themselves as tennis balls, which may have actually gotten the attention of our 90-pound yard admiral.  

Finally, Bren, Paul, Woody and I would like to wish everyone a happy holiday season and a banner ‘96.  Hope to see you soon.   

The Napholz Family

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 1996

M e r r y   C h r i s t m a s ! ! !

I know, I know, these Christmas letters get old.  But hey, it’s the only time of the year that we get to communicate with everyone.  Besides, the stamp is already on the Christmas card envelope, so in my book, it’s a freebie

Boys 3, Girls 1.  We now outnumber Brenda in every aspect except voting percentage.  

On May 18, we had ourselves an 8 pound, 1 ounce, 20.5 inch long tax deduction named Steven Thomas.  I must set the record straight once again that I do not name my kids after my bosses — it’s merely a coincidence (and likewise, it’s merely a coincidence that Paul’s middle name is Kazuhiko).  The most incredible thing witnessed to date is the acrobatics that Brenda and I have pulled off, whereby we have wrapped ourselves around two little fingers.  I didn’t think it was possible, but when you put your mind to it, it comes easy.  In the early days, Steve didn’t talk much, but he would still let his presence be known during his loud bouts of flatulence.  Paul and I were puzzled for awhile because this only seemed to occur when Brenda was holding him.  Go figure.  Steve has since started using other parts of his body to emit sounds, and is talking up a storm.  No words yet, but you can tell he’s his mother’s son.  He’s also a very happy, content kid, and that’s just how we like it.  Likewise, Paul is ecstatic to have a little brother, and can’t wait to teach him how to play basketball and football.

Paul has been a dream child.  He watches sports with me and likes listening to my music.  He has never once said “Daddy, let’s turn off the Bears game and watch a Barney video”.  It just doesn’t happen.  It gave me great pride one day while driving to hear Paul say “Daddy, can you put on some ‘Who’?”  Coming from a kid who used to crave show tunes, this was quite a step, and I was beaming with pride as I popped in the tape of one of my favorite bands.  Then he said, “play ‘Doctor Jimmy’, it’s my favorite song.”  You know, I never paid that close attention to the words until we drove in the car alone together and listened.  I can say now, however, that I can assure you that they won’t be putting that song on a KidSongs video anytime soon.  Suffice it to say once Brenda heard the words — and the tremendous and uncharacteristic silence (aside from a few mumbles which tended to mimic the lyrics in the song) from her following that event — that I somehow felt it was in my best interest to “misplace” that tape.  Paul has also gotten into basketball in a big way.  It’s been so big, that we actually got to watch a majority of the Bulls games on TV.  I owe a lot to this little man, as it was his influence that swayed the deciding vote in our favor.  

Brenda is as happy as she’s ever been — with two kids.  She’s adapted extremely well to the zone defense she’s now required to apply during the day.  I never realize how good she is at it until she leaves the house and I take over.  It’s those moments that I realize what a truly difficult job she has and that I’m lucky I have a job in the outside world.  We now belong to a health club so she can drop the kids off and go work out.  As it’s been suggested that I could lose a little weight, I have established a brief, but very effective 30 minute workout (10 minutes in the whirlpool, 10 in the sauna, and 10 in the steamroom) to get me in shape for the holidays.  Going five times a week, let’s just say you may not recognize me the next time you see me.

Woody has trimmed down quite nicely since our vet informed us we were giving her twice as much food as she needed.  She’s also shown great patience with Steve, as he’s beginning to notice her more and routinely pulls chunks of her hair out if she’s not paying attention to him.  As we’ve learned that diet is only half the solution to being physically fit, we are doing our best to help her get back into shape.  Brenda frequently runs with her and I occasionally throw her the frisbee.  Also, unbeknownst to her, Paul has recruited her as a ‘center’ for his football team.  He feels that since she’s “down on all fours” anyway, it only makes sense.  As quarterback on his “team”, he’s been trying to get her to snap him the ball.  Needless to say, she’s been sleeping in the corner more these days.

Oh, and no, I haven’t finished the basement yet.  After miserably failing to complete this project before Steve was born (it’s not entirely my fault, he was born ten days early!), I have made my New Year’s resolution to set a target date for completion sometime in 1997.  Next year, I’ll let you know what that date is.

Finally, we’d like to wish everyone who took the time to read this a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  

Tom, Bren, Paul, Steve and Woody Napholz

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 1998

Merry Christmas!!!!!

I know these things are a dime a dozen for most of you, but just cut me a little slack.  This is pretty much the only letter I write each year.  It’s easy, and of course, it’s free (the stamp is already on the envelope).

Another banner year for the Napholz family!  Even though Robert James (we just know him as Robbie) was born March 10, it seems like he’s been around a lot longer.  At nine months, he’s crawling and on the verge of walking.  God help us.  He has mastered the art of finding the one thing on the floor that we meant to pick up before we put him down to play, and he’s equally adept at jamming such object into his mouth while we’re scrambling to reach him.  Following in the footsteps (knee prints?) of his brothers, Woody’s tail and ears are some of his favorite toys.  And based on the amount of time he spends in Woody’s water dish (one of those things we mean to pick up before we put him down), we’re convinced he’ll be beside himself when he finds out that there are three toilets in the house.  All in all, he’s just a happy kid with a big ol’ butt (we’ve got a year and a half of diapers left and he has one size to go before he max’s out).  

Stevie is now 2, and in Paul’s words, a “handful”.  That’s only when we can catch him.  Stevie started walking at 8 months.  He started running at 8-and-a-half months, and he hasn’t stopped since.  To date, I believe that he’s my best shot at childhood labor.  If he’s not in the backpack when I’m mowing the lawn, he’s pushing his bubble mower beside me.  He’s already learned to pick up the dog crap in the back yard.  Now I just have to get him to use the pooper scooper instead of his hand.  Steve just really enjoys life – and whether he’s out in his sandbox playing trucks for several hours or volunteering his services to stand in as Paul’s tackling dummy – he just has a good time.  

Then there’s Paul (who is 6 now).  We took him to his first day of kindergarten this year, and Brenda was nearly in tears.  It’s amazing to watch this kid (the whole class for that matter) read, write and add.  I guess really to develop overall.  He started little league baseball this year, as well as hockey and basketball, and he continues to be a little fish in the pool.  Football is his sport, and will probably start that next year (if Brenda lets him).  Paul is just a sports fanatic and I’m trying not to push him in any direction (except the one he’s going in).  I guess it’s kind of typical for this age to test the waters, but this whole Packer thing is really starting to grate on me.  It used to be that he liked the Packers (I can thank my mother-in-law for that one).  Now he likes every team except the Bears.  Paul regularly preaches that everybody in the house is a Bears fan until they get their own opinion.  At least I have them that long.

Brenda remains the person in the house with the most energy.  She keeps watch over Paul and Robbie, and chases Steve around all day.  Then, when I get home, she either goes to aerobics or drags the dog on a three mile run.  Go figure.  Now she’s doing some volunteer work for a local charity and getting more and more involved in the parent projects at school.  Just for kicks, she thinks it would be “neat” if she and I ran in a marathon together next year.  Needless to say, what she does amazes me.  

As for me, I’m working, watching my kids grow up, and desperately searching for reasons why I can’t run in a marathon (the only one I’ve come up with so far is “then I’ll never have time to finish the basement”).

Well, I’ve run out of room to talk about Woody (that little bitch), but as you can see, she made the team photo this year.  As always, we would like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Tom, Brenda, Paul, Steve, Robbie & Woody Napholz

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 1999

Merry Christmas!!!!!

This one’s late, I know.  It’s my fault (writer’s block).  It’s been a hectic year.  I’ll try to keep it brief.

Whoever said, “No biggee, with three kids you just go to a zone defense” is full of crap.  You know, Brenda told me last year that having a baby and a two year old didn’t scare her half as much as having a one year old and a three year old.  Boy, she sure nailed that one. 

I don’t know if we should be happy because we have an extremely creative one year old or disappointed because our two older boys didn’t properly prepare us for the coming of Robzilla.  You know, last year he just watched Paul and Steve run around.  We had no idea that he was actually analyzing their tactics and looking for shortcomings.  I must say, he’s come up with an impressive array of antics to keep us on our toes.  My personal favorite is when he empties the dog’s water dish onto himself, wears it like a hat, and walks around the house like a drunk (okay, so he’s been watching Brenda, too).  Coming in a close second is the way he turns off the TV set.  By staying in front of the sensor, he can render our remote control useless.  Lately, he’s been getting involved in his brothers football games/rumbles.  I gotta say, he’s holding his own.  

Stevie remains the quickest one of the bunch.  We came to realize that with Paul and Rob, they telegraph their next move by thinking about it.  If they’re gonna reach for a pitcher of grape juice on the counter, we sometimes realize it before they do.  Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t think, and generally has no idea himself what he’s going to do next.  Hence, he’s a handful.  He started preschool this year and goes twice a week.  He likes it because they have trucks there.  In general, he’s a pretty happy kid who spends a lot of time with his trucks in the sandbox, or on the football field with Paul.

Paul is now a Tennessee Titans fan.  I don’t know why.  I don’t care why.  I just know that the wheels have fallen off the Packer bandwagon, and I couldn’t be happier.  I actually heard him utter these words at a recent Bear game:  “Go Bears!”  Go figure.  He still loves all sports, but likes football the best because he gets to tackle people and get dirty.  We got somewhat of a rude awakening this year as Paul made a musical leap to Top 40.  Not only does this mean that I’ve completely lost control of the car radio, but also that I can tell you who the Backstreet Boys are and some of the other bands.  I’m not happy about it.  I am happy about the fact that Paul is probably old enough to push a lawn mower around the yard next summer.  I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.  

Brenda’s trying to figure out how to enhance her daily challenge now that Paul is in school full time.  Since having another baby is out of the question, and we’re pretty much through with dogs, she has taken it upon herself to make us Y2K ready.  Hence, we have an army’s supply of bottled water, canned foods (but only an electric can opener), candles, batteries, etc.  Whether or not Y2K is real, we’ll be having Spam and baked beans every night in January.  Feel free to stop by and join us.  

Woody, (that poor little bitch) is blind.  She is also diabetic, and has a half dozen additional ailments which are not covered by our insurance plan.  The good news is that she got her hair back.  The funny thing is, she doesn’t even know it.  Based on the pile of splinters in the backyard that used to be a fence, her teeth still seem to be working pretty well.

Finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that Brenda and I will be celebrating our ten year anniversary on December 30 (probably when you get this).  You know, there are days when I sit back and think about just how blessed she is to have me.  I keep telling her that in the olden days, she would have had to share me with at least 10 other women.  That always makes her feel better.  As always, we would like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Tom, Brenda, Paul, Steve, Robbie (Robzilla) & Woody Napholz

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 2001

Merry Christmas!!!!!

If you’re saying to yourself, “Gee, he didn’t do this last year”, consider yourself one of the few who noticed… Well, it’s been another great year for the Napholz family and I’m still trying to figure out where it went.  While we’re short a member from the last time I did this letter (we lost Woody to diabetes and other medical complications about 18 months ago), we’re pressing on and trying to keep up with a slew of activities that keep us constantly running.   

Well I’m happy to say, the next diaper that I’m likely to change will either be a grandchild’s or Brenda’s (it Depends).  That’s right, Robbie is out of diapers and we’re done having babies.  Rob is now 3, and while he is a happy guy, we still fondly refer to him as Rob-zilla because he can tear apart a room twice as fast as we can clean it up.  And thanks to Rob, I can now completely remove a toilet and extract a Blue’s Clues figurine from the inside!  Why do I think that’s gonna come in handy again?  He loves his Veggie-Tales and Blues Clues video tapes and can actually identify each of at least twenty of them despite not being able to read.  As the third boy, he’s the toughest of the bunch and we routinely see him in the middle of the other two guys’ wrestling or football matches.  Despite his stocky build and his being given the “tools” to be a great athlete, we’re convinced that he’s destined to become a thespian.  For those of you wondering how a boy can be a thespian, get your mind out of the gutter.  I’m talking about him becoming a theater guy.

Stevie is now 5, and has yet to meet a person that he hasn’t had 20 questions for.  The last question is typically, “Do you want to come to my house and play?”  Once you see him work a room, you’ll see that he’s a natural sales rep or politician.  Even as a Kindergartener, he’s been caught having the girl next to him do his handwriting exercises for him.  When his teacher confronted him, he assured her it was ok because she asked to do it for him. Based on early indications, he’s the most likely candidate to spend seven years in college.  Conversely, we’re not sure that Rob will last more than a semester without getting tossed out, so our college savings plan remains intact.

Paul is now 9 years old and he’s in third grade.  He’s still a major sports freak, and I believe that I’ve brought him back from the “dark side” as he’s renounced his backing of the Packers and has become a Bears fan.  I almost get a tear in my eye when I think about it.  And yet, despite my success on one front as a father, I still have failed miserably on others.  For example, he still hasn’t mowed the lawn for me and I’ve seen him several times in front of the Nintendo game while I’ve been working on my various chores.  How’s that work?  Meanwhile, Brenda has had some success with him loading the dishwasher, and so I know it’s just a matter of time for me.  I’ll keep working on it.

Brenda continues to do all her volunteer things in addition to her full time job as a mother.  She’s also won a few races with her running.  Her style is unique in that she talks her opponents out of breath before she passes them.  They don’t dare try to pass her because they know she’ll start talking to them again.  It’s a very impressive strategy and the trophies keep coming in.  

As for me, I’m working and watching my kids grow up (and my belly grow out).  I’ve been coaching Paul’s football team for the past few years and that has been a real treat for me.  At first I was kind of shocked when I told a kid to do something and he actually did it.  I guess I’m so used to kids ignoring me when I talk to them that it turned out to be a pleasant surprise.  

As always, we want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas (or Happy Holidays to stay politically correct) and a Happy New Years.  Our e-mail remains tbnappy@interaccess.com, so write us if you get a chance.  

Tom, Bren, Paul, Steve & Robbie Napholz

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 2002

Merry Christmas!!!

Well once again a year has flown by and I can say that 2002 was pretty good to the Napholz family.

Robbie is now 4 and in his second year of preschool (no, he’s not repeating!).  He’s added a new favorite to his video collection, the “Wiggles”.   Ouch!  Where do they come up with this stuff?  Being the third boy, Robbie has learned that persistence and cunning are necessary tools for survival.  He has lived up to his nickname (Rob-zilla) at times, but has shown a creative streak that makes me think Brenda was seeing an artistic guy on the side five years ago.  He loves to shop with Brenda, and always finds a way to sneak a few things into the cart — typically Oreos and videos, but once he found a 2-year old boy!   Brenda made him put the boy back.

Steve is now 6 and in first grade.  While he loves recess, he’s informed us that the rest of the school day is too long and that there is way too much sitting.  Of course, if you put a GameBoy in his hands, he could sit for a week.  At home, it’s the trampoline, skateboarding, roller blading and of course, GameBoy.  He tried fall baseball this year, but that doesn’t move at Steve’s pace.  He was a little on the aggressive side in soccer, but since I was the referee, I didn’t call anything if it was a good hit.

Paul is now 10 and on top of the world since he just got his braces off.  While he’s into the Xtreme sports, he still does all the typical football, basketball and baseball stuff.  He’s just learned three new words that drive me nuts.  They are, “in a second.”  These words are pretty much used as a blanket response to anything I say when he’s laying on the couch watching TV.  He’s also mastered the eye roll, which has become part of any response he gives us having to do with homework or work around the house.  It brought a tear to my eye earlier this year as I watched Paul take the garbage out to the curb for the first time.  He’s growing up, and it won’t be long before he’s doing ALL my chores.  That’s special.

Brenda is taking running even more seriously now and has pretty much placed in every race she’s run this year (within her age group).  While she insists that she’ll never run a marathon, she moved closer to that ultimate lie by completing a half-marathon this year and doing pretty well.  She continues to volunteer for the school board and then ropes me into doing her computer work.  She talked me into getting her a trampoline for Mothers Day, and I must say, there is nothing more enriching than creating a venue for watching your children bond and kick the crap out of each other at the same time.

As for me, I’m just working, going to football, basketball, baseball and various other events and watching my kids grow up (and kick the crap out of each other on the trampoline).  I’m convinced that my father has placed some sort of hex on me when I watch Paul snack on a half-pound of deli ham or roast beef and then leave one piece for the next guy, or see Steve standing in front of an open freezer door because he’s boiling.  The sad thing is, I know where they got that from.  Other than that, I’m just waiting to see what comes next.

As always, we’d like to wish everyone a Happy Holiday season and a fantastic 2003.

Tom, Brenda, Paul, Steve and Robbie Napholz

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 2004

Merry Christmas!!!

Well, for the second time this century, I’ve missed a year with this letter and so I have to “double up” when necessary.  The good news for you is that I’ll still keep it to a page.

The year 2004 was good to the Napholz family.  Robbie is now 6 and in first grade and absolutely loves school.  He even does his own pretend homework when we force the other two to do theirs.  We’re also proud of the fact that he’s probably one of the few first graders that knows just about every word (even the bad ones, but he can’t say them) to every song done by AC/DC.  Can you say “talent show?”  Thanks to Steve, he’s starting to get into Pokemon in a big way, as well as Game Boy.  Great.

Steve is now 8 and in third grade and is a bona fide flippin’ gymnast.  He tried out for and made the team this fall.  He also did football this year for the first time and I was lucky enough to coach his team.  He continues to move at one speed, which is about 1.5 times my speed.  This is pretty much the case unless he’s doing his homework.  Then, he moves at half speed.  When he’s not running around, he’s got his head in a Game Boy.   Gymnastics Game Boy.

Paul is now 12 and in junior high school, or sixth grade.  He’s playing the guitar, and we’re actually beginning to recognize some of the songs he plays!  Just kidding, he’s actually pretty good.  He continues to do his skateboard and plays roller hockey, basketball and baseball.  We’ve reached another milestone with Paul, as well.  He now babysits for his younger brothers.  The odd thing is, they listen to him!  

Brenda, after vowing to never run a marathon, completely caved and ran in the Chicago Marathon last October.  Because she finished just under 3:23, she qualified to run in the Boston Marathon, which is what she will do this coming April.  

Tom

Brenda Napholz Christmas Letter 2005

Well, I can tell you that if you receive this letter, it means Tom has completely lost his creative Christmas spirit.  We usually get  around to this time in the season and as soon as I either threaten to write the letter myself or start writing it, he takes over.  He’s worried I’m going to bore everyone and tell you how perfect our kids are.  I’m pretty much over that, so I think it’s safe to attempt the letter. I won’t,  however,  promise to keep it to one page like Tom does.

Let’s go backwards this time and start with Tom.  Let’s see he’s 41 now and according to his kids, a complete nerd (I’m in the same boat so I feel comfortable writing this).  Paul, now 13, has taken his role as obnoxious teenager very seriously and is doing his best to influence his younger brothers.  If Tom comes out of this with any self esteem, he had a lot to begin with! He continues to work at Allstate and commutes 2 -3 hours each day which gives him plenty of time to analyze traffic. To hear him talk (and rant and rave) he has come to the conclusion that he’s the only one in Chicago who knows how to drive.  Maybe he’ll turn it into a positive and fill the rest of us in.  He has given up coaching Paul in football (as Paul has given up football) and bribed Steve, our 9 year old, to play this year (no, I’m not kidding).  As it turned out, coach and son had a great season and for now, Steve is hooked on football.  He is also coaching Steve and Paul in basketball this year and has committed to coach Robbie, our 7 year old, in baseball this spring.  He has his work cut out for him.  Robbie has decided he wants nothing to do with batting and would like to only play pitcher.  Should be good entertainment watching the two of them.  They have the same eyebrows, which turn into uni-brows when they get steamed.  Tom also continues to attempt playing flag football with his other aging friends and usually ends up in physical therapy.  But, he loves it and says it’s worth it.  Whatever!

Now for Paul, our teenager.  Well, let’s just say he’s doing his best to keep us humble.  He has grown his hair long, which doesn’t bother me, but drives his father, his father’s friends, uncles and grandparents nuts.  Personally, I like it, but they think it gives him a bit of a hoodlum look. I have a feeling his father will love the long hair once he finds out Paul now wants a Mohawk. He is starting a band with his friends (he is playing electric guitar). I think they are good, but that might get into the gushing business that I swore off.  He continues to skateboard and play basketball.  Last spring he decided to try ice hockey and loved it.  So, we now travel hours away for games and have learned that a family vacation has taken on new meaning-like traveling to different states for tournaments.  All in all, he’s where he should be.  Trying new things, driving his parents crazy, and finding who he wants to be.  So far, I still like him.

Stevie is our 9 year old.  What a nut.  His favorite subject in school continues to be recess.  When you press him, he’ll tell you gym.  Go any further than that, and he’s just telling you what you want to hear.  He was our “flippin gymnast” if you remember from last year.  However, when his coach quit and moved to Florida, Steve decided to retire.  He still manages to flip all over my house and scare the playground moms at school when he flips backwards out of the swings.   His persistent, persuasive, and basically likeable personality lead his father and I to believe he will either sell cars someday or become a politician. Paul made the mistake of letting him talk to one of his girl friends on instant messaging, and she now asks to talk to him on a regular basis.  

Robbie, (Robzilla), my baby, is 7 now.  According to my mother-in-law, we shouldn’t have to pay for college for him.  His interests are academic and he’s extremely competitive.  That’s good news for us, because it looks like his brothers may exhaust the college kitty.  He joined Cub Scouts this year and LOVES it.  He takes his Cub Scout handbook very seriously and reads it on his own. He loves to earn badges and wants to go to everything they offer to fulfill his requirements.  We thought sports were time intensive! We’ve managed to dodge 3 campouts so far, but our day is coming, I’m sure. He’s just starting to show interest in sports which I believe is a blessing given his competitive spirit.  To be honest, I expect him to be on the football field at some point, but more than likely in the marching band.  He’s the biggest of the bunch (and has poor Tom salivating for a football player) but he has a more artistic and creative nature.  He loves Pokemon, reading, drawing and bringing home good grades to rub in his brother’s faces. 

We added a new family member this year.  Cutter  is a 1 year old Chesapeake Bay Retriever. She looks very much like our old dog, Woody, who has been gone for 5 years now.  That has made it more difficult for Tom and Paul because I think they want her to be Woody, but she is slowly winning their hearts.  Steve and Robbie are madly in love with her and thankfully, Steve enjoys picking up the dog dirt in the back yard.  I told you he’s a strange kid!

As for me, I keep doing a lot of different things.  But, I’m still at home doing what I consider the most important, and that’s raising my sons.  Every once in awhile they show me some appreciation for the little things I do around here, but I usually have to go out of town and leave their dad in charge for awhile.  Before I know it, the fact that I keep their favorite clothes clean and cover up for them on a regular basis with their dad becomes very much appreciated. 

Best Wishes to all of you in the coming year.  Keep in touch.  I love e-mail so if you send one to me at tbnappy@foxvalley.net, I’m more apt to keep up through the year.  Have a wonderful and safe holiday!

Tom, Brenda, Larry, Mo and Curly

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 2007

Hey Everyone,

2007 was a great year for the Napholz family.  Here’s a little bit of what we’ve been up to…

Paul is now a freshman at Crystal Lake South, and at 15, he has a driver’s permit.  I’ve been pleasantly surprised that my knuckles have not turned permanently white from the driving experience – that, in spite of the fact that it’s illegal for me to be intoxicated while sitting in the passenger seat.    My insurance agent was kind enough to tell me what I’M going to get for Paul’s 16th birthday, and I’m saving up for that right now.  Paul’s discovered the kitchen recently, and has been cooking some new dishes for me to try.  The fact that he comes up with some pretty good stuff and that his main ingredient is butter helps explain the extra chins that I’ve grown this year.  Paul’s playing hockey for South and seems to be enjoying it.  His team is doing well and he is a solid contributor.  He spends most of his spare time either on his drum set or the guitar.  The mohawk he sports goes nicely with his punk band that practices regularly in our basement.  Based on what I’ve been hearing during their practices, children’s parties are not in their future any time soon.

Stevie is now a sixth grader and really likes his new school.  He likes his friends, his teachers, and maybe even one or two classes.  Outside of school, if he doesn’t have a fishing pole in his hand, he has a hockey stick.  You can usually find the “Bass Master” out at one of several area ponds or on the internet checking out the latest in casting techniques and lure crazes.  If not there, he’s working on his slap shot by firing a hockey puck into my garage door.  Bass Master tends to practice his casting in the front yard, and once in a while, he remembers to take off the hook before he starts.  No major casualties yet, but it’s just a matter of time.

Robbie is in fourth grade now and the only remaining Napholz in the elementary school.  He continues to be our scholar (he gets upset when he gets a B while the other two do cartwheels if they get even close to that).  He still loves his music, with the band du jour being Iron Maiden.  He’s been playing bass guitar for almost a year now, so between he and Paul, there’s no shortage of loud sounds coming from the basement.  The difference is that Robbie plays stuff that I mostly know or recognize.  Robbie also does rock climbing, plays baseball, lacrosse, and is the starting linebacker on his basketball team (for those of you who didn’t get that one, there are no linebackers in basketball).

Brenda celebrated her 40th birthday this year and she continues to move like a 20 year old.  In addition to her rigorous workout schedule and running (she ran at least 10 races this year), she is now a bee keeper (no typo – we have more honey in our basement than I’ve consumed in my lifetime), she’s the dryland workout coordinator for the high school hockey team (no one else wants to run with them), and oh yeah, she’s on a quest to become our Alpha Dog (more on that in the next paragraph).  Other than being on a PTO board, organizing the elementary school running club and being the high school JV hockey manager, she sits around and does NOTHING.  She’s taking classes at NIU to get her Masters degree in Exercise Physiology and Psychology.  So in addition to ruining our diets by taking all the high fructose corn syrup-laced food out of the house (pretty much anything that tastes good), she’s now going to psychoanalyze us and customize workout programs for each of us.

Then there’s Cutter (that little bitch), our 3 year old (50 pound) Chesapeake Bay Retriever.  Not being able to leave well enough alone in the dog department, when the breeder bred Cutter last winter and offered us a puppy, we jumped at the chance.  Paul named that cute little puppy Kramer, and in 8 short months he has grown to be 120-pound bastion of destruction – and is actually making the kids look good.  It seems about once a day I’ll hear one of the kids yelling from somewhere in the house “Kramer!  No!”  And our back yard looks even more like a battleground than it ever has (complete with landmines!).  After reading several books on the subject, Brenda has decided that the Alpha Dog in our house has to be a person (unbeknownst to Kramer, who still thinks it should be a dog).  Brenda is my odds-on favorite to ultimately become our alpha dog (largely because she read the book and the dogs haven’t).  You know, it’s funny… Cutter (mother) and Kramer (son) tend to fight a lot, similar to, well… uh, nevermind.

As for me, I continue to spend too much time commuting to and from work.  I am well past the point of thinking the last pork chop on the dinner platter is mine, and have resigned myself to the fact that even though I have three boys capable of doing all of our yard work, it ain’t gonna happen.  I am much more apt to find a dirty plate on the table than any leftover pizza in the refrigerator.

Best Wishes to all of you in the coming year.  Keep in touch.  Brenda loves e-mail so if you send one to at tbnappy@comcast.net, she may actually keep up through the year.  Have a wonderful and safe holiday!

Tom, Brenda, Paul, Steve and Robbie Napholz

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 2008

This Christmas letter is going to start a little differently than those of the past.  I’d like to make a public apology to my parents for every bad or annoying thing that I’ve ever done to you.  Now, if you wouldn’t mind removing this hex that you’ve placed on me with respect to my kids (including the dogs), maybe we can just call it even???

2008 was an interesting year for the Napholz family.  Paul is now a sophomore at CL South HS and has his driver’s license.  It’s a mixed blessing for sure, since he always helps out with shuttling the other two guys around, but he’s also using my car.  He is as adept at leaving a single useless piece of lunchmeat in the refrigerator as he is at leaving an ounce of gas in the car when he’s done using it.  And thanks to the efforts of both he and Brenda, the Illinois Dept of Transportation has declared our driveway one of the top ten most hazardous roadways in the state.  Paul spends his time between his music (drums and guitar), his lady, hockey/lacrosse and homework.  Yes, homework.  We think it just may have dawned on him that going away to college means he gets to live on his own and we pay for it.  

Steve is in seventh grade now and remains focused on his two greatest loves, hockey and fishing.  His first muskie remains nothing more than a dream, however.  This year, his biggest catch was – well—him.  For those of you who picked Robbie as the most likely to be hooked by Steve first (that’s where I had my money, by the way), you lost.  And thanks to the efforts of a quick thinking eye doctor (with a local anesthetic) who was able to pull the hook out of the back of Steve’s head, we avoided a trip to the ER (that particular day, anyway).  For a guy whose favorite class is lunch, I was surprised that Steve has already decided where he wants to go to college.  However, when he told me that the University of Wisconsin offers a fishing degree, it made a little more sense.  

Robbie has discovered reading in a big way, and may well have the world record for the most minutes read by a fifth grader.  His book of choice is any comic book that he comes by.  While he still plays his bass guitar, he’s picking up the electric guitar now and getting to the point where I recognize what he’s playing.  He took me to see his favorite band this summer, Iron Maiden, and I have to admit they were pretty good.  His grades remain stellar, and he still likes to play basketball like a linebacker.

Brenda continues to be the most active person in the house, holding various titles such as Alpha Dog, Queen Bee, and of course, the Junk Food Nazi.  In a major blow to our breakfast fanfare, she has taken store bought syrup off of our grocery list and now makes her own.  While it’s really not bad, she’s no Aunt Jemimah.  She works the varsity hockey team like dogs in their dryland workouts, only to spoil them with chocolate milk and brownies afterward.  And she continues to add to the pile of hardware representing running race trophies and medals that she’s earned.  This year’s crop of home grown honey was a monster, so we probably have more honey than most stores.  And after a long drawn out war, it appears that Brenda has been ordained the Alpha Dog of the house.

Kramer and Cutter continue to be the annoying jerks that they’ve always been.  They never listen to anyone (except the Alpha Dog) and they fight like Steve and Rob.  No, worse, they fight like my brother and I used to (they are much more juvenile than Steve and Rob).  I am convinced that their sole goal in life is to tear down the wooden fence that I keep having to fix every weekend. 

So, in closing, Mom, Dad, I’m really sorry (and happy 50th!).

We wish everyone a happy holiday season and a joyous and prosperous 2009.

Tom Napholz Christmas Letter 2009

Here’s a quick run down on what’s happening with us.  

Paul is now 17 and the countdown to college is beginning.  He is a junior at CL South and continues to take us in new directions.  He loves his music, playing guitar, drums and does the occasional vocal for his various bands.  However, he goes through bands like Steve goes through girlfriends.  Other interests include hockey, lacrosse, and of course, his longtime lady friend, “Poopsie” (yes, he goes through lady friends like Steve goes through books). Paul started reffing hockey games this winter to support his Taco Bell habit, and we believe that he has truly been given a gift from God, in that if you tell him how much money you have in your pocket, he can let you know where the best place is to buy him lunch.

Steve is now 13 and an eighth grader at Lundahl.  It seems the only thing that’s changing for him is his voice (and his pants seem to be getting tighter and shorter).  His main activities remain hockey and fishing, and he, too, has become a hockey referee this year to support Paul’s Taco Bell habit.  Still, no musky, but he remains persistent.  He has recently taken up drumming because our house isn’t loud enough, and we believe that he has truly been given a gift from God, in that if you tell him how much money you have in your pocket, he can let you know where the best place is to buy him lunch.

Robby is now in 6th grade and 11.  Despite the transition to junior high, he remains an excellent student (yeah, I know, the test showed that he’s ours), loves his comic books and someday either wants to become a super hero and/or just rule the world.  And thanks to Rob, with the advent of the DVR in our house, we now have every episode of South Park, The Nanny, George Lopez, iCarly, and of course, every super hero show ever recorded at our ready access.  Lucky us…  He’s hinting that he might play football next year, even though he pretty much already does so when he’s playing basketball.  He continues to focus on his music, now playing the bass, guitar and the drums, and we believe that he has truly been given a gift from God, in that if you tell him how much money you have in your pocket, he can let you know where the best place is to buy him lunch.

Brenda remains the most ridiculously active person in the house, as she now coaches high school track

(Johnsburg) in the spring, and still retains the titles of Running Club Leader (junior high kids),

Conditioning Coordinator (for the high school hockey teams), and of course, Queen Bee, Alpha Dog and Food Nazi.  She pretty much answers to any of those.  She only ran one marathon this year, but manages to get her workouts in when she can, usually around 5 am.  She has truly been given a gift from God, in that if you tell her how much money you have in your pocket, it will soon be in hers (so she can take the boys to lunch).

I didn’t believe that Kramer and Cutter could get more aggravating, but they’ve managed to surpass even my expectations.  They fight like Steve and Rob (or Steve and Paul, or Rob and Paul, or…), and have managed to expose every flaw in our wooden fence so that I have had something to fix every weekend. 

They have turned our yard into Stalag 13, where they can pretty much escape in any direction at any time — but then still come back for dinner.  As you can imagine, we’re extremely popular with the neighbors.  This year, Kramer destroyed our garden on a daily basis and may have eaten the only tomato we managed to grow.

A friend of ours once told me, “If you have any self esteem left after your kids are grown, consider yourself to be in the lucky minority.”  I’m still trying to figure out what’s more unnerving, Robby huffing on my bald spot to shine it up, or Steve using it as a crystal ball to tell his friends’ futures.  I cringe when we’re in church and Steve says, “Hey Dad, let me tell you this joke I heard in the locker room yesterday…”  And if I ever find something good in the refrigerator, I have to wonder what’s wrong with it.

Finally, we want to wish everyone a happy, healthy and prosperous 2010.  Our email address changed to tbnappy@att.net this year.  Please keep in touch.  Time flies too fast…

Tom, Brenda, Paul, Steve, Robby, Cutter and Kramer Napholz