Nope. Ain't doing it. But, I ran into a useful recipe on another blogging page, and, well, this lady sure tells it like it is. She has a few lessons learned along with the actual recipe, and, I think it's worth your time. You might get a chuckle out of it, and learn at the same time. As some would say, it's a hoot and a holler. Check it out:
How To Jar Tomatoes In 2(x-5y)+7-(x+y) Easy Steps
Friday, September 23, 2005
Thursday, September 22, 2005
My Morning
So, the first alarm went off this morning. Mom goes and gets the son ready for school. Later on, the second alarm goes off, and I sleepily punch it and drift back to sleep. Somewhere in the subconscious, I must have heard some discussion about the bus not coming, or him missing it, because I started to dream, even as he waited and waited for a bus that would not appear………
In my dream, Mom yells at him, “It’s time for the bus – what are you doing?”, when he comes back inside after being out for a few minutes. He yells back, “I’ll just be a minute…” Meanwhile… I hear the bus pull up, glance into the kitchen, and there he is, taking toast out of the toaster and buttering it. I step out the door to wave down the bus, but the driver is pulling away…
Next thing I know, he is there, standing right next to the steps, actually, in the flower bed between the steps and sidewalk. And, I am upset. I started to yell at him. He knows better than to go back inside this late!!!!
But, when I barked at him, he jumped. Literally, he jumped. My words, or my expression, must have scared the dickens out of him. I did a double-take, for he was now standing on the sidewalk, nekkid, his clothing a pile of rumpled cloth where he had been standing just a moment before. So now, of course, I had to also fuss at him for being nekkid in the yard.
Then I woke up. And the bus had not come. So, I hopped in the shower, and started driving like crazy for town. As I get into town, five minutes to go till start time of classes, the neighbor, driving in front of me, pulls to the edge of the road, and I pull up next to her, and she says, school is on a two hour delay.
So I drove like crazy all the way back home, dumped him off, and headed for work. I got here ten minutes late, but… well, it could have been worse. At least, the boss didn’t bark at me, causing me to jump out of my clothes. Boy, that would have been embarrassing.
In my dream, Mom yells at him, “It’s time for the bus – what are you doing?”, when he comes back inside after being out for a few minutes. He yells back, “I’ll just be a minute…” Meanwhile… I hear the bus pull up, glance into the kitchen, and there he is, taking toast out of the toaster and buttering it. I step out the door to wave down the bus, but the driver is pulling away…
Next thing I know, he is there, standing right next to the steps, actually, in the flower bed between the steps and sidewalk. And, I am upset. I started to yell at him. He knows better than to go back inside this late!!!!
But, when I barked at him, he jumped. Literally, he jumped. My words, or my expression, must have scared the dickens out of him. I did a double-take, for he was now standing on the sidewalk, nekkid, his clothing a pile of rumpled cloth where he had been standing just a moment before. So now, of course, I had to also fuss at him for being nekkid in the yard.
Then I woke up. And the bus had not come. So, I hopped in the shower, and started driving like crazy for town. As I get into town, five minutes to go till start time of classes, the neighbor, driving in front of me, pulls to the edge of the road, and I pull up next to her, and she says, school is on a two hour delay.
So I drove like crazy all the way back home, dumped him off, and headed for work. I got here ten minutes late, but… well, it could have been worse. At least, the boss didn’t bark at me, causing me to jump out of my clothes. Boy, that would have been embarrassing.
Finding Neverland
Editor's note: This article falls into a category that I refer to as a "rambling monstrosity". It was me, sitting up late in the evening, pouring my rambling thoughts into the keyboard, and the result tends to be rather disorganized and incoherent. If you'd rather read something silly, check Big Toe or Apple out. If you want something inspirational, try Kate's Prayer, Winners and Losers or Heroic Sacrifices. Even, useful software to keep little gremlins out of your computers can be found here. Or, feel free to just browse around and see what you can find.
While discussing the upcoming Gratz Fair (like a county fair back home), a friend of mine said, "I really dread going. There's no kid left in me."
Wow... What a statement. It may sound bad at first, but... when I look in the mirror, the same thing is true. The only time that I have any "kid" in me, is when I am playing with kids. Kids are wonderful things.
At Awana tonight, our friend who has a couple of dozen kids (so shoot me if I exaggerate), came in with one of the younger ones. I took him and started playing with him, holding him upside down. Before long, his older sister was dismissed from her group and came out and climbed up on my back, and I carried her out to the parking lot.
When the neighbor kids come over, they invariably pile up on top of me and push me to play with them. When I am feeling down, they force me to play, and I am better. I think... I think I was made to be around kids. Other people are different. Some, completely different.
My own kids, 11 and 7, respectively, take it by spells. Most of the time, they're mad at me for making them do things they don't want to do, and so don't feel like playing. My son, seems to have this problem quite a bit lately. When he does try to play, it's always after he's already gotten me so aggravated that I just snap at him.
My daughter is still usually pretty playful... And she loves her bedtime ritual of hugs and kisses. A lot of times, just around the house... with the family... they want to "play" when there's work to be done, and I'm the bad guy who pushes the work thing. Speaking of which - the chore from two days ago... the terrible burdensome one that I told them to do... filling the bird feeders - still hasn't been done. I need to get on them tomorrow about that.
But, around other adults, there's no "play" left in me anymore. Even around my kids, when the wife's there especially, there's no "play". That's not to say it's her fault, but she is one of the folks who are "different". She worked in a day care for a year or so, finally quitting because "she wasn't cut out for it." The kids drove her nuts.
After her accident last year, when she was back up and about, but not able to go find work yet, she kept the neighbor's kids before and after school... And the extra cash was very nice. But, every day, I'd come home and she'd be so stressed about them wanting to play too loud or too rough, or arguing, or making messes and not wanting to pick them up, or something. So the kids would all come pile on me for a while and leave her alone - but... "she wasn't cut out for it," so when the summer vacation came, and school was about to restart, she told their Mom she was finding another job. And they come only to play now.
Sometimes, that rubs off on me, too. It's hard to be playful when playing gets on people's nerves.
My grandparents had about a gazillion kids. Well, okay, maybe not. How about, seven. In my family, Mom had 3, Dad had 2, plus me and my brother between them. I was the baby. But it seemed that larger families had less money, but bigger hearts. The older kids would watch the younger ones. The younger ones knew they were loved. The older ones learned responsibility. The younger ones learned to defend themselves. Everyone grew.
In today's "downsized" families, there's one or two kids, the older one complains because the younger one gets all the attention. Both babied, because they're the only ones there. I get frustrated with it because I think my son, 11, is old enough to care for his younger sister - but invariably they fight because "she always gets away with things" and "he hit me".
I think, a dozen kids, give or take, would be about right. It wouldn't be a one-on-one battle between the two of them all the time. If nothing else, they'd all be fighting, and would distract each other enough that they wouldn't be up our behinds all day long. But more likely, to have that many, they'd have to be born fairly closely together, so there'd be no five year gap between them. The older ones wouldn't remember being an 'only child' and miss it, because by the time they're old enough to remember, they've always had little brother or little sister around. And the younger ones, they've always had older brothers and sisters who've always had baby brothers and sisters... and they'd look out for each other. And do pranks. And be mean to each other. And help each other out.
There's something to be said for such a lifestyle. I think we've made mistakes in this day and age by not having larger families who stick together. It takes special parents to be able to love that many children. For me, I feel so old and weary so much of the time anymore - and I'm only 34. The only time I feel young anymore is when there's a child who looks into my eyes with love and carefree abandon, who wants to climb up me, or play a game, or just sit and talk.
I don't know where this is going... it's just rambling - a look at how life is not, I guess. My "kid" probably left me along about the age of fourteen to fifteen. My Dad died in November, and my fifteenth birthday was the following February. The end of January, in between, was when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded. I think, looking back, that I was already pretty sober before that, because of Dad, but I think that the Shuttle's influence just cemented the already sober me.
I had a wonderful childhood, to that point. Even after, life was good in many ways. We always had family around who loved us. My uncle Clarence came to live with us for a few years. School came and went. I had part time jobs here and there, always staying busy. But, did I ever take time to have fun? Well, I took pride in working, I listened to music - a very big part of my life. I read a ton of books. I found escape in many of the things which occupied my time. But, did I have fun? I bought a camera and took a million pictures (probably not much exaggeration). I was on the yearbook staff as a photographer, too. I was on the forestry team in high school, who placed 4th in the whole state of Arkansas, and 7th in a four-state competition held in Mississippi.
But, did I have fun? Did I play? I can't remember. I got out of high school. Not knowing what to do with myself. I was fifth in my class, and received a scholarship to University of Arkansas - but didn't have a car and didn't want to go and bum rides all the time when I didn't even have a clue what to major in - other than, maybe, teaching.
So I went to work, and after working for Wegner Quartz Crystal mines for a year, working in the cleaning section with Rob and xxx, who'd sometimes sneak off to the back and smoke a little something funny (and no, I didn't join in. If I had, I probably wouldn't have inhaled (smile)) while listening to Magic 105 rock-n-roll on the radio, and mowing and general maintenance around there. After getting yelled at once for the owner using his tractor and bushhog where he knew there was a well-cap and hitting it, then telling me I should have had the "foresight" to go and use a weedeater and clean up around the wellcap, and put a pole up there, with a ribbon on it, so he wouldn't have hit it. After all that, I began to decide, maybe the military is not so bad after all.
So, after a year of working, out of high school, I joined the Air Force. And worked. I loved it. I learned a lot of new stuff. I was given responsibilities because I cared to try and work above and beyond. I was "promoted" in my job even when advancement in rank was not possible - meaning that I was given opportunities to do new things, with responsibilities, even before I probably should have been - based on the work I had done.
But did I have fun? I think back, and I think not. The only time I've ever just truly enjoyed myself - let everything go - as a teen or an adult, has been around children. When I was single, and I'd go to my friend Gwen's house, and play with Michael. I'd rock him and sing silly songs and hum silly tunes. It was the coolest thing. And it didn't matter whose kids it were.
When my own came along, sitting there, bonding with them, was wonderful. Jeremy was an only child until he was almost 5. Then came Kate. Now they're both out of the 'innocent' stage - Kate told me the other week, when I told her to be careful with the new laptop because it cost several hundred dollars and if she breaks it, she has to pay, she told me, "Daddy. You can't do that. That's child abuse." She didn't just tell me this. She screamed it. She still has her "innocent" moments but she's quickly outgrowing it. I think, if there were still a baby in the house, I'd still be young. As it is, I turned 78 this year.
And, I suppose, it's not about babies at all. It's about a lot of things. I thought, when I got out of high school, that I'd go to college and come back as a teacher. I always knew that kids were the path for me. But I didn't go to college, and I didn't become a teacher. One thing, then another, put obstacles and changed my destiny. I am okay with that.
But. Over the past few years, as the kids have grown, so has my age. What does this mean? Since I was fourteen, I have lived in a world where the only magic came from children. I have tasted magic elsewhere, but it was only in passing. Nothing that would come to stay. Other people, children, other adults, they are not the source of magic at all. The magic is buried within you all the while. Children may bring it out for me, but for others, other things bring out the magic in their lives.
The question is, how do you find it? Is it even possible? I say yes. I say this with a kind of heavy heart. I slow down now, as I think of my words.
My kids, my neighbor's kids, my friend's kids, they all bring out the magic in me. They make me lighten my heart, forget my burdens for a little while, and then the magic comes forth.
Writing. Writing has always been a passion of mine. For many years it was something that lay forgotten in a corner, and when my friend Jamie suggested I start to blog, he probably had no idea of how much I really needed to do it. However, although I started off blogging with a few inspired articles, I lost my "magic" for a little while. I posted a few things just to keep it alive, but which were not really very inspired. Then, toward the end of last month, I started to toy with the idea of doing something different. I didn't know what I was going to do or where it was going to lead. I registered a second blogspot site, and started playing with the layout and format. And, one thing led to another, and now I've got a site, which has had a "write-up" already from another blogger, over in Australia, of all places, who stumbled across my site.
There's supposed to be other spots of "magic" in our lives. I have found, over time, that things can become tarnished with time. Things we believed once to be true, we find, are not quite so true. Mostly, since the age of fourteen, there's been a lot of shades of gray in my life. There've been moments of color, but when there's no "kid" left in you, no magic, what do you do? My daughter asked me, over a year ago, now "Daddy, why don't you smile anymore?" And for a while, and even now, I try, for her sake. But often, I just don't feel like it. I am too old for it. That's not to say that I have a bad life, it's just, the magic has been gone for some time.
This blogsite has improved my general outlook on life. And, a few weeks ago, I started a new one, Armadillo Creek. Look under the "links" menu to the right for the URL. It has been a blast and has brought back a lot of pleasant memories from long before the age of fourteen.
Additionally, I sent a link to "Thanksgiving" to a cousin from Mississippi whose son used to be my playmate when we'd go there at Thansgiving time and they'd come to Arkansas in the summertime for the reunion. And she sent the link on to some other cousins. Who emailed me, and we've been "chatting" off and on for a few weeks now. That's been great.
But mostly, Armadillo Creek has been the great escape. I suppose, since I've made several references to it, I should explain myself. I will tell the story here, once, but nowhere else. I wanted this thing to remain anonymous, at least, to start with, so I could do what I needed to do, without distractions. I created a town called "Armadillo Creek", based on my home town, as the child of yesteryear who had my name, would have seen and remembered it. The child is there, too, but his name, unlike mine, is Johnny Miller. There are stories and other stuff there, that are based on my memories of what life was like back in the simpler days in Armadillo Creek. When I get down and blue, and the magic is gone, I can go back to a chapter in my past, and start writing and it's back again. Almost all the characters and events in Armadillo Creek are based on people in my own life, but the names are changed, and the situations simplified somewhat.
The town created here does not and maybe never did exist, except in a young boy's innocent perceptions. There are happy memories, and very sad ones, that I have put on here. It is a work in progress. I will add things as I feel like adding them, and I am continually sticking a new entry into the idea list for some future writing. And, maybe, I'll run out of ideas one of these days, and when I do, well, maybe then I'll start real writing, and invent things. Or, maybe, I'll just quit writing about Armadillo Creek, close that book, and start a new one.
I don't know where my future lies. This has been the subject of much deep thought of late. But I do know where it started, in a simpler place, in a simpler time, in a town that some know, as Armadillo Creek. And, knowing where your roots lie is a good starting point for the future. Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
While discussing the upcoming Gratz Fair (like a county fair back home), a friend of mine said, "I really dread going. There's no kid left in me."
Wow... What a statement. It may sound bad at first, but... when I look in the mirror, the same thing is true. The only time that I have any "kid" in me, is when I am playing with kids. Kids are wonderful things.
At Awana tonight, our friend who has a couple of dozen kids (so shoot me if I exaggerate), came in with one of the younger ones. I took him and started playing with him, holding him upside down. Before long, his older sister was dismissed from her group and came out and climbed up on my back, and I carried her out to the parking lot.
When the neighbor kids come over, they invariably pile up on top of me and push me to play with them. When I am feeling down, they force me to play, and I am better. I think... I think I was made to be around kids. Other people are different. Some, completely different.
My own kids, 11 and 7, respectively, take it by spells. Most of the time, they're mad at me for making them do things they don't want to do, and so don't feel like playing. My son, seems to have this problem quite a bit lately. When he does try to play, it's always after he's already gotten me so aggravated that I just snap at him.
My daughter is still usually pretty playful... And she loves her bedtime ritual of hugs and kisses. A lot of times, just around the house... with the family... they want to "play" when there's work to be done, and I'm the bad guy who pushes the work thing. Speaking of which - the chore from two days ago... the terrible burdensome one that I told them to do... filling the bird feeders - still hasn't been done. I need to get on them tomorrow about that.
But, around other adults, there's no "play" left in me anymore. Even around my kids, when the wife's there especially, there's no "play". That's not to say it's her fault, but she is one of the folks who are "different". She worked in a day care for a year or so, finally quitting because "she wasn't cut out for it." The kids drove her nuts.
After her accident last year, when she was back up and about, but not able to go find work yet, she kept the neighbor's kids before and after school... And the extra cash was very nice. But, every day, I'd come home and she'd be so stressed about them wanting to play too loud or too rough, or arguing, or making messes and not wanting to pick them up, or something. So the kids would all come pile on me for a while and leave her alone - but... "she wasn't cut out for it," so when the summer vacation came, and school was about to restart, she told their Mom she was finding another job. And they come only to play now.
Sometimes, that rubs off on me, too. It's hard to be playful when playing gets on people's nerves.
My grandparents had about a gazillion kids. Well, okay, maybe not. How about, seven. In my family, Mom had 3, Dad had 2, plus me and my brother between them. I was the baby. But it seemed that larger families had less money, but bigger hearts. The older kids would watch the younger ones. The younger ones knew they were loved. The older ones learned responsibility. The younger ones learned to defend themselves. Everyone grew.
In today's "downsized" families, there's one or two kids, the older one complains because the younger one gets all the attention. Both babied, because they're the only ones there. I get frustrated with it because I think my son, 11, is old enough to care for his younger sister - but invariably they fight because "she always gets away with things" and "he hit me".
I think, a dozen kids, give or take, would be about right. It wouldn't be a one-on-one battle between the two of them all the time. If nothing else, they'd all be fighting, and would distract each other enough that they wouldn't be up our behinds all day long. But more likely, to have that many, they'd have to be born fairly closely together, so there'd be no five year gap between them. The older ones wouldn't remember being an 'only child' and miss it, because by the time they're old enough to remember, they've always had little brother or little sister around. And the younger ones, they've always had older brothers and sisters who've always had baby brothers and sisters... and they'd look out for each other. And do pranks. And be mean to each other. And help each other out.
There's something to be said for such a lifestyle. I think we've made mistakes in this day and age by not having larger families who stick together. It takes special parents to be able to love that many children. For me, I feel so old and weary so much of the time anymore - and I'm only 34. The only time I feel young anymore is when there's a child who looks into my eyes with love and carefree abandon, who wants to climb up me, or play a game, or just sit and talk.
I don't know where this is going... it's just rambling - a look at how life is not, I guess. My "kid" probably left me along about the age of fourteen to fifteen. My Dad died in November, and my fifteenth birthday was the following February. The end of January, in between, was when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded. I think, looking back, that I was already pretty sober before that, because of Dad, but I think that the Shuttle's influence just cemented the already sober me.
I had a wonderful childhood, to that point. Even after, life was good in many ways. We always had family around who loved us. My uncle Clarence came to live with us for a few years. School came and went. I had part time jobs here and there, always staying busy. But, did I ever take time to have fun? Well, I took pride in working, I listened to music - a very big part of my life. I read a ton of books. I found escape in many of the things which occupied my time. But, did I have fun? I bought a camera and took a million pictures (probably not much exaggeration). I was on the yearbook staff as a photographer, too. I was on the forestry team in high school, who placed 4th in the whole state of Arkansas, and 7th in a four-state competition held in Mississippi.
But, did I have fun? Did I play? I can't remember. I got out of high school. Not knowing what to do with myself. I was fifth in my class, and received a scholarship to University of Arkansas - but didn't have a car and didn't want to go and bum rides all the time when I didn't even have a clue what to major in - other than, maybe, teaching.
So I went to work, and after working for Wegner Quartz Crystal mines for a year, working in the cleaning section with Rob and xxx, who'd sometimes sneak off to the back and smoke a little something funny (and no, I didn't join in. If I had, I probably wouldn't have inhaled (smile)) while listening to Magic 105 rock-n-roll on the radio, and mowing and general maintenance around there. After getting yelled at once for the owner using his tractor and bushhog where he knew there was a well-cap and hitting it, then telling me I should have had the "foresight" to go and use a weedeater and clean up around the wellcap, and put a pole up there, with a ribbon on it, so he wouldn't have hit it. After all that, I began to decide, maybe the military is not so bad after all.
So, after a year of working, out of high school, I joined the Air Force. And worked. I loved it. I learned a lot of new stuff. I was given responsibilities because I cared to try and work above and beyond. I was "promoted" in my job even when advancement in rank was not possible - meaning that I was given opportunities to do new things, with responsibilities, even before I probably should have been - based on the work I had done.
But did I have fun? I think back, and I think not. The only time I've ever just truly enjoyed myself - let everything go - as a teen or an adult, has been around children. When I was single, and I'd go to my friend Gwen's house, and play with Michael. I'd rock him and sing silly songs and hum silly tunes. It was the coolest thing. And it didn't matter whose kids it were.
When my own came along, sitting there, bonding with them, was wonderful. Jeremy was an only child until he was almost 5. Then came Kate. Now they're both out of the 'innocent' stage - Kate told me the other week, when I told her to be careful with the new laptop because it cost several hundred dollars and if she breaks it, she has to pay, she told me, "Daddy. You can't do that. That's child abuse." She didn't just tell me this. She screamed it. She still has her "innocent" moments but she's quickly outgrowing it. I think, if there were still a baby in the house, I'd still be young. As it is, I turned 78 this year.
And, I suppose, it's not about babies at all. It's about a lot of things. I thought, when I got out of high school, that I'd go to college and come back as a teacher. I always knew that kids were the path for me. But I didn't go to college, and I didn't become a teacher. One thing, then another, put obstacles and changed my destiny. I am okay with that.
But. Over the past few years, as the kids have grown, so has my age. What does this mean? Since I was fourteen, I have lived in a world where the only magic came from children. I have tasted magic elsewhere, but it was only in passing. Nothing that would come to stay. Other people, children, other adults, they are not the source of magic at all. The magic is buried within you all the while. Children may bring it out for me, but for others, other things bring out the magic in their lives.
The question is, how do you find it? Is it even possible? I say yes. I say this with a kind of heavy heart. I slow down now, as I think of my words.
My kids, my neighbor's kids, my friend's kids, they all bring out the magic in me. They make me lighten my heart, forget my burdens for a little while, and then the magic comes forth.
Writing. Writing has always been a passion of mine. For many years it was something that lay forgotten in a corner, and when my friend Jamie suggested I start to blog, he probably had no idea of how much I really needed to do it. However, although I started off blogging with a few inspired articles, I lost my "magic" for a little while. I posted a few things just to keep it alive, but which were not really very inspired. Then, toward the end of last month, I started to toy with the idea of doing something different. I didn't know what I was going to do or where it was going to lead. I registered a second blogspot site, and started playing with the layout and format. And, one thing led to another, and now I've got a site, which has had a "write-up" already from another blogger, over in Australia, of all places, who stumbled across my site.
There's supposed to be other spots of "magic" in our lives. I have found, over time, that things can become tarnished with time. Things we believed once to be true, we find, are not quite so true. Mostly, since the age of fourteen, there's been a lot of shades of gray in my life. There've been moments of color, but when there's no "kid" left in you, no magic, what do you do? My daughter asked me, over a year ago, now "Daddy, why don't you smile anymore?" And for a while, and even now, I try, for her sake. But often, I just don't feel like it. I am too old for it. That's not to say that I have a bad life, it's just, the magic has been gone for some time.
This blogsite has improved my general outlook on life. And, a few weeks ago, I started a new one, Armadillo Creek. Look under the "links" menu to the right for the URL. It has been a blast and has brought back a lot of pleasant memories from long before the age of fourteen.
Additionally, I sent a link to "Thanksgiving" to a cousin from Mississippi whose son used to be my playmate when we'd go there at Thansgiving time and they'd come to Arkansas in the summertime for the reunion. And she sent the link on to some other cousins. Who emailed me, and we've been "chatting" off and on for a few weeks now. That's been great.
But mostly, Armadillo Creek has been the great escape. I suppose, since I've made several references to it, I should explain myself. I will tell the story here, once, but nowhere else. I wanted this thing to remain anonymous, at least, to start with, so I could do what I needed to do, without distractions. I created a town called "Armadillo Creek", based on my home town, as the child of yesteryear who had my name, would have seen and remembered it. The child is there, too, but his name, unlike mine, is Johnny Miller. There are stories and other stuff there, that are based on my memories of what life was like back in the simpler days in Armadillo Creek. When I get down and blue, and the magic is gone, I can go back to a chapter in my past, and start writing and it's back again. Almost all the characters and events in Armadillo Creek are based on people in my own life, but the names are changed, and the situations simplified somewhat.
The town created here does not and maybe never did exist, except in a young boy's innocent perceptions. There are happy memories, and very sad ones, that I have put on here. It is a work in progress. I will add things as I feel like adding them, and I am continually sticking a new entry into the idea list for some future writing. And, maybe, I'll run out of ideas one of these days, and when I do, well, maybe then I'll start real writing, and invent things. Or, maybe, I'll just quit writing about Armadillo Creek, close that book, and start a new one.
I don't know where my future lies. This has been the subject of much deep thought of late. But I do know where it started, in a simpler place, in a simpler time, in a town that some know, as Armadillo Creek. And, knowing where your roots lie is a good starting point for the future. Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy
A couple of months ago I submitted an article to the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy (h2g2.com) for consideration to be added as an "edited guide entry", which is an official entry into their online encyclopedia.
It went through "peer review" where other h2g2 members gave me feedback and I corrected minor errors and otherwise cleaned it up, and today they emailed me saying that it is in "recommended" status - meaning, that now, barring editorial problems, it should soon become an official part of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I don't guess I'll get anything for it, other than having something published, sorta. But that's okay, it's still kinda cool.
If you're interested, here's the link:
Binary Digits
It went through "peer review" where other h2g2 members gave me feedback and I corrected minor errors and otherwise cleaned it up, and today they emailed me saying that it is in "recommended" status - meaning, that now, barring editorial problems, it should soon become an official part of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I don't guess I'll get anything for it, other than having something published, sorta. But that's okay, it's still kinda cool.
If you're interested, here's the link:
Binary Digits
Big Toe
I am sitting here, watching a movie, playing card games on my laptop, and it dawns on me that my big toe is sticking out of my left sock. That is to say, I have a hole in the end of my sock big enough for my whole toe to stick out. Maybe I’ll take a picture of it one of these days. Or wait, a thought just occurred to me. Maybe I should just throw away the sock – or even mend it. Hmmmm. Wonder why I didn’t think of that before?
- This was an attempt, feeble, probably, at humor. The fact is, though, my toe is sticking out of my sock, and yes, I'll probably toss the sock...
- This was an attempt, feeble, probably, at humor. The fact is, though, my toe is sticking out of my sock, and yes, I'll probably toss the sock...
Medicinal Miracles
I have long had a dislike of doctors and medicine, in general, although I do tend to actually like most of the people who wear doctor's suits, and I feel better when I've taken the medicines they prescribe.
I guess what I mean is that I see doctors as a necessary evil. They do what they can do to alleviate our aches and pains, and we feel better, pay our increasingly higher bills, and hopefully, life goes on. But......
Quite a number of years ago, as a young man in the Air Force, I had a mandatory visit with a dentist. Maybe, one of the first in my life. The dentist said that since I was in my early twenties, and my wisdom teeth were finally "coming in", that they should be removed. So, I underwent surgery to have them removed, and suffered no long-term ill effects. Good? Good. However, they gave me laughing gas, and I don't much recall the effects of that, except that when we got home, the base construction guys were digging up the yard across the street, and I blustered that they'd better not come dig up my yard! The "medicine" changed me, beyond the scope of what it was intended for - if only for a few hours.
Other than that occasion, and a visit to the emergency room when I was seventeen to have a bit of my thumb sewn back on after hitting it with a chopping maul trying to steady a stubborn piece of wood that kept wanting to fall over as I whacked at it, I had never been to the doctor, except for checkups, until I was in my 30s. The thumb thing was pretty neat, I've got to say. They let me watch as they sewed the tip of my thumb back on - it had been dangling there, by a piece of skin. It was only the tip, maybe a chip of bone missing, and now only a very small scar remains of the incident.
When I was thirty two, and work and life in general were really stressing me out, I started having funny feelings in my chest. My Dad died at 55, when I was 14, and the last thing I want to do for my kids is to leave them so early, or earlier. But, at the same time, I didn't do a lot about it, other than force myself to slow down, and I left my job a few days early for summer vacation - which provided a long-overdue break.
That fall, the job got slightly better, although I was on the go a lot. One Sunday we had a scout outing where we climbed up and down 7.5 miles of the Appalachian Trail, and that night, I drove to Philly, a couple of hours away, for a disaster recovery test from work, and stayed there until Wednesday. On Saturday, my grandparents flew in, we had a big birthday party for my son with tons of his friends, and my grandfather, who had loved the drive through the autumn colors a few hours before, started having some severe pains, and passed out. The ambulance came, and took him to the hospital, and we followed, and ... suffice it to say, a few hours later, despite all our and the doctor's best intentions, he was gone from this Earth and returned to his Creator.
Needless to say, Saturday night was a sleepless one, and Sunday was full of exhausting phone calls and heartaches, and, after a few hours of sleep, on Monday, I dropped my wife and Grandmother off at the airport, and the kids and I started driving for 'home', twelve hundred miles away. That night we stopped in middle Tennessee at a 29.95, squishy-floored motel room, because I figured if I kept on going, he'd not be the only one in heaven.
Early Tuesday, we were at Mom's... and I got an almost normal night of rest, but Wednesday was Halloween, and that morning, we got up, went and had a big breakfast at the Mount Ida Cafe, and went back home. I stayed over at Granny's house for a few hours, and when she came in, she offered me a piece of cake. By this point, it was late afternoon, and although not really hungry, I accepted.
Of course, the kids had to do Halloween, but instead of the traditional trick-or-treating that could have been done around town, we decided to load up and drive into Hot Springs, 40 miles or so away. On the way there, I found myself actually getting a little dizzy. The funny chest feelings were there, too, and it scared me. I told my wife, let's stop at Wal Mart, and I am going to go in and check my blood pressure. It was high, but.... as the doctor later told me, not dangerously high, just .. pretty darn high.
The next day, I went to see the doctor there in town, and he advise me to start watching my diet a little more closely, and lose a few pounds, and I'd probably be all right. The diet because chances are the dizziness I had felt, even the chest pains, were probably caused by blood sugar issues, more than anything else, and when your blood sugar gets out of whack, it causes your blood pressure to do so as well. He said, don't skip breakfast, or lunch, and if you do find yourself needing something to eat, find something high in protein, like peanuts.
And, when I got back to my other 'home' and went to see my doctor here, he pretty much said the same things, but considering my family hereditary conditions, maybe I should also start taking something like Toprol XL, a beta blocker, just to 'regulate' my blood pressure. It's a low dosage, and can be taken once a day, and I was scared enough to accept it.
Since that point, I've lost more than ten pounds. At times, it's been closer to twenty, although I tend to bounce around a bit. But other than the blood pressure thing, everything was perfectly normal - never had cholesterol problems or anything else that would cause grief.
So the other day, a couple of years later, I go to the doctor for a checkup. Good news is, my blood pressure is at it's lowest level in recent memory (120/70). My new doc says, well, you've been here a while, and never had a blood test, let's go ahead and do it. Today, I got my results back and all is normal, except, triglycerides. Hand-written on the results is the comment to cut back on carbohydrates and alcohol.
Now, in the last few years, I have been guilty of drinking a grand total of two beers and a glass of wine. So the latter is probably not a problem, and I have no doubt the former is. But I digress. Being the online information type, I headed on over to WebMD to edumacate myself on triglycerides. Here's some highlights:
They list normal (150 or less - where I've always been)
Borderline-high (150 to 199)
High (200-499 - I am now in the upper end of this range).
Very High (500+)
So, what causes "High"?
"There are several causes of high triglycerides, including obesity, poorly controlled diabetes, hypothyroidism, kidney disease, estrogen replacement therapy, and excess consumption of calories, carbohydrates, saturated fats, and alcohol. Some medications may cause elevated triglyceride levels, including birth control pills, diuretics, beta-blockers, steroids, and some of the newer antipsychotic medications."
I am not obese, even though I am admittedly above where I should be. I do not have diabetes, hypothyroidism, kidney disease, heaven knows I don't need estrogen replacement (I hope), and I do try to be somewhat healthy in my eating habits. The medications though, my birth control pills haven't bothered me yet (that's a joke). I don't do diuretics, steroids, and my antipsychotic medication is limited to expressing myself via words. But, beta-blockers. Bingo.
So, here I is... the older I get, the more examples of this I see. We are given a medicine to cure a problem, and it helps, then we have another problem, if not caused by the medicine, then at least aided and abetted by it. Examples? Kids whose parents over-react, sending them to the doctor for a sniffle, get antibiotics, and a few weeks later, something else comes up, and more antibiotics, and then something serious, and their bodies have built up a resistance to the antibiotics and then they're really sick. It happens. And my wife, for years suffering from a disease which causes her to have one type of problem, finally given a regular dose of "prednisone" to help battle it, and it makes life more bearable. But, by the way, it can cause some side effects, like causing your body to not absorb calcium that well. And, she doesn't drink milk too often, preferring Coke instead. So between the medicine and bad habits, she develops some serious bone issues... leading to fractures and surgery.
Medicine is bad stuff. And, when a month or two ago, everyone said, maybe you ought to go get your arm checked out... I was in pain - serious pain, more than I've probably ever been in, when I pulled a muscle in my shoulder and it led to a few weeks worth of aching all down my arm. Don't know if I tore a muscle, or tendon, or got tendonitis, or what, but the most I took was motrin and aspirin. Mostly, though, I stretched the muscles, every time I got the chance, and worked out the pain. And it's fine now.
Heck, if I'd gone to the doc, likely he'd have given me a miracle drug or surgery and I'd have felt great, till a hidden side effect came along, and I started having fingers fall off into my soup.
Well. To quote the great Gump, "That's all I got to say about that."
I guess what I mean is that I see doctors as a necessary evil. They do what they can do to alleviate our aches and pains, and we feel better, pay our increasingly higher bills, and hopefully, life goes on. But......
Quite a number of years ago, as a young man in the Air Force, I had a mandatory visit with a dentist. Maybe, one of the first in my life. The dentist said that since I was in my early twenties, and my wisdom teeth were finally "coming in", that they should be removed. So, I underwent surgery to have them removed, and suffered no long-term ill effects. Good? Good. However, they gave me laughing gas, and I don't much recall the effects of that, except that when we got home, the base construction guys were digging up the yard across the street, and I blustered that they'd better not come dig up my yard! The "medicine" changed me, beyond the scope of what it was intended for - if only for a few hours.
Other than that occasion, and a visit to the emergency room when I was seventeen to have a bit of my thumb sewn back on after hitting it with a chopping maul trying to steady a stubborn piece of wood that kept wanting to fall over as I whacked at it, I had never been to the doctor, except for checkups, until I was in my 30s. The thumb thing was pretty neat, I've got to say. They let me watch as they sewed the tip of my thumb back on - it had been dangling there, by a piece of skin. It was only the tip, maybe a chip of bone missing, and now only a very small scar remains of the incident.
When I was thirty two, and work and life in general were really stressing me out, I started having funny feelings in my chest. My Dad died at 55, when I was 14, and the last thing I want to do for my kids is to leave them so early, or earlier. But, at the same time, I didn't do a lot about it, other than force myself to slow down, and I left my job a few days early for summer vacation - which provided a long-overdue break.
That fall, the job got slightly better, although I was on the go a lot. One Sunday we had a scout outing where we climbed up and down 7.5 miles of the Appalachian Trail, and that night, I drove to Philly, a couple of hours away, for a disaster recovery test from work, and stayed there until Wednesday. On Saturday, my grandparents flew in, we had a big birthday party for my son with tons of his friends, and my grandfather, who had loved the drive through the autumn colors a few hours before, started having some severe pains, and passed out. The ambulance came, and took him to the hospital, and we followed, and ... suffice it to say, a few hours later, despite all our and the doctor's best intentions, he was gone from this Earth and returned to his Creator.
Needless to say, Saturday night was a sleepless one, and Sunday was full of exhausting phone calls and heartaches, and, after a few hours of sleep, on Monday, I dropped my wife and Grandmother off at the airport, and the kids and I started driving for 'home', twelve hundred miles away. That night we stopped in middle Tennessee at a 29.95, squishy-floored motel room, because I figured if I kept on going, he'd not be the only one in heaven.
Early Tuesday, we were at Mom's... and I got an almost normal night of rest, but Wednesday was Halloween, and that morning, we got up, went and had a big breakfast at the Mount Ida Cafe, and went back home. I stayed over at Granny's house for a few hours, and when she came in, she offered me a piece of cake. By this point, it was late afternoon, and although not really hungry, I accepted.
Of course, the kids had to do Halloween, but instead of the traditional trick-or-treating that could have been done around town, we decided to load up and drive into Hot Springs, 40 miles or so away. On the way there, I found myself actually getting a little dizzy. The funny chest feelings were there, too, and it scared me. I told my wife, let's stop at Wal Mart, and I am going to go in and check my blood pressure. It was high, but.... as the doctor later told me, not dangerously high, just .. pretty darn high.
The next day, I went to see the doctor there in town, and he advise me to start watching my diet a little more closely, and lose a few pounds, and I'd probably be all right. The diet because chances are the dizziness I had felt, even the chest pains, were probably caused by blood sugar issues, more than anything else, and when your blood sugar gets out of whack, it causes your blood pressure to do so as well. He said, don't skip breakfast, or lunch, and if you do find yourself needing something to eat, find something high in protein, like peanuts.
And, when I got back to my other 'home' and went to see my doctor here, he pretty much said the same things, but considering my family hereditary conditions, maybe I should also start taking something like Toprol XL, a beta blocker, just to 'regulate' my blood pressure. It's a low dosage, and can be taken once a day, and I was scared enough to accept it.
Since that point, I've lost more than ten pounds. At times, it's been closer to twenty, although I tend to bounce around a bit. But other than the blood pressure thing, everything was perfectly normal - never had cholesterol problems or anything else that would cause grief.
So the other day, a couple of years later, I go to the doctor for a checkup. Good news is, my blood pressure is at it's lowest level in recent memory (120/70). My new doc says, well, you've been here a while, and never had a blood test, let's go ahead and do it. Today, I got my results back and all is normal, except, triglycerides. Hand-written on the results is the comment to cut back on carbohydrates and alcohol.
Now, in the last few years, I have been guilty of drinking a grand total of two beers and a glass of wine. So the latter is probably not a problem, and I have no doubt the former is. But I digress. Being the online information type, I headed on over to WebMD to edumacate myself on triglycerides. Here's some highlights:
They list normal (150 or less - where I've always been)
Borderline-high (150 to 199)
High (200-499 - I am now in the upper end of this range).
Very High (500+)
So, what causes "High"?
"There are several causes of high triglycerides, including obesity, poorly controlled diabetes, hypothyroidism, kidney disease, estrogen replacement therapy, and excess consumption of calories, carbohydrates, saturated fats, and alcohol. Some medications may cause elevated triglyceride levels, including birth control pills, diuretics, beta-blockers, steroids, and some of the newer antipsychotic medications."
I am not obese, even though I am admittedly above where I should be. I do not have diabetes, hypothyroidism, kidney disease, heaven knows I don't need estrogen replacement (I hope), and I do try to be somewhat healthy in my eating habits. The medications though, my birth control pills haven't bothered me yet (that's a joke). I don't do diuretics, steroids, and my antipsychotic medication is limited to expressing myself via words. But, beta-blockers. Bingo.
So, here I is... the older I get, the more examples of this I see. We are given a medicine to cure a problem, and it helps, then we have another problem, if not caused by the medicine, then at least aided and abetted by it. Examples? Kids whose parents over-react, sending them to the doctor for a sniffle, get antibiotics, and a few weeks later, something else comes up, and more antibiotics, and then something serious, and their bodies have built up a resistance to the antibiotics and then they're really sick. It happens. And my wife, for years suffering from a disease which causes her to have one type of problem, finally given a regular dose of "prednisone" to help battle it, and it makes life more bearable. But, by the way, it can cause some side effects, like causing your body to not absorb calcium that well. And, she doesn't drink milk too often, preferring Coke instead. So between the medicine and bad habits, she develops some serious bone issues... leading to fractures and surgery.
Medicine is bad stuff. And, when a month or two ago, everyone said, maybe you ought to go get your arm checked out... I was in pain - serious pain, more than I've probably ever been in, when I pulled a muscle in my shoulder and it led to a few weeks worth of aching all down my arm. Don't know if I tore a muscle, or tendon, or got tendonitis, or what, but the most I took was motrin and aspirin. Mostly, though, I stretched the muscles, every time I got the chance, and worked out the pain. And it's fine now.
Heck, if I'd gone to the doc, likely he'd have given me a miracle drug or surgery and I'd have felt great, till a hidden side effect came along, and I started having fingers fall off into my soup.
Well. To quote the great Gump, "That's all I got to say about that."
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Little Disappointments
Have you ever gotten into a conversation with someone, really, really into it, and was interrupted, and the other person left or the conversation was dropped, and you sat and wondered, what was "the rest of the story?"
Or, started listening to a really good song on the radio, then lost the station, or had to get out of the car? And, left hanging? Or even, waited a long, long time for something, movie tickets even, and the big day came, and something happened, and you couldn't go?
Sometimes, despite our best intentions, life is a drag. Last year at this time we were talking about going to see "Mark Twain Tonight", starring Hal Holbrooke, at a community theater near our town. Now, I've been a Mark Twain fan for a long, long time. And, I'd seen enough of this show, bits and pieces here, and there, to know it was as much like the original production Twain himself did years ago as I was likely to ever get to attend.
The day arrived. A sitter was coming over to spend the evening with the kids. The tickets had been bought and paid for. And, she stumbled. That is to say, my wife's knee buckled, and she fell, breaking not only her leg, but also her ankle. After a few hours in the emergency room, it was obvious she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, so I left and took the kids home, picked up the sitter, and came back to the hospital. They decided they needed to do surgery, to the point of putting in screws and pins and plates and all kinds of fun stuff.
She said, "Go ahead and go..." And I said, "What, are you crazy?" She came home a couple of days later. I still haven't seen Twain Tonight, but it's okay. After a few months she has healed and is up and around fairly well.
There are little disappointments every day in our lives. That half-finished story, that your friend never finished, the movie whose ending you may never know, the last half of that peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, that ended up on the floor, when you were still hungry for it.
Sometimes, I start to
Or, started listening to a really good song on the radio, then lost the station, or had to get out of the car? And, left hanging? Or even, waited a long, long time for something, movie tickets even, and the big day came, and something happened, and you couldn't go?
Sometimes, despite our best intentions, life is a drag. Last year at this time we were talking about going to see "Mark Twain Tonight", starring Hal Holbrooke, at a community theater near our town. Now, I've been a Mark Twain fan for a long, long time. And, I'd seen enough of this show, bits and pieces here, and there, to know it was as much like the original production Twain himself did years ago as I was likely to ever get to attend.
The day arrived. A sitter was coming over to spend the evening with the kids. The tickets had been bought and paid for. And, she stumbled. That is to say, my wife's knee buckled, and she fell, breaking not only her leg, but also her ankle. After a few hours in the emergency room, it was obvious she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, so I left and took the kids home, picked up the sitter, and came back to the hospital. They decided they needed to do surgery, to the point of putting in screws and pins and plates and all kinds of fun stuff.
She said, "Go ahead and go..." And I said, "What, are you crazy?" She came home a couple of days later. I still haven't seen Twain Tonight, but it's okay. After a few months she has healed and is up and around fairly well.
There are little disappointments every day in our lives. That half-finished story, that your friend never finished, the movie whose ending you may never know, the last half of that peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, that ended up on the floor, when you were still hungry for it.
Sometimes, I start to
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
The Apple
My niece, the dreamer, once said she was going to grow up to be an apple tree. Now, I don't know about that. She's grown now, but doesn't appear to be much of an apple tree. However, my friend and I had an email exchange about an apple today:
My friend said, "I have a very small apple for lunch. An apple according to MS Dictionary: a firm round fruit with a central core, red or green skin, and white flesh. How we take something so real, and make it so clinical."
I said, "So, what did the apple look like to you? Describe it's physical appearance to me."
He said, "That is for you writers to write about, and for me to eat."
I said, "The apple sat there, on the desk, calling me, with it's pinkish hues, the light glistening softly off the polished surface, miniscule specks of deeper red here and there, randomly spaced about its skin, and the greenish stem, slightly curved, and wider at the top, leaning there, as if to say, I am a lonely flagpole, just waiting for a flag. "
He said, "Yep, it was a small red apple. Just the facts."
And I said, "Yep. Same thing I said. Almost exactly."
My friend said, "I have a very small apple for lunch. An apple according to MS Dictionary: a firm round fruit with a central core, red or green skin, and white flesh. How we take something so real, and make it so clinical."
I said, "So, what did the apple look like to you? Describe it's physical appearance to me."
He said, "That is for you writers to write about, and for me to eat."
I said, "The apple sat there, on the desk, calling me, with it's pinkish hues, the light glistening softly off the polished surface, miniscule specks of deeper red here and there, randomly spaced about its skin, and the greenish stem, slightly curved, and wider at the top, leaning there, as if to say, I am a lonely flagpole, just waiting for a flag. "
He said, "Yep, it was a small red apple. Just the facts."
And I said, "Yep. Same thing I said. Almost exactly."
Friday, September 09, 2005
Life
Life according to the ‘fatalistic me’:
I've learned....
... that no amount of "x" will fix every problem, right every wrong, or make sure you succeed in every endeavor.
Sometimes...
... no matter how hard you try, right is not right, and wrong is not wrong... life just IS ... and, success or failure, it just happens.
Always...
... believe in yourself, your goals, your dreams, your ideals... and if you're meant to be successful, you will be, and if not, you will have done what you can do.
"x" as represented above, can be discipline, or strength, or love, or humility, or "x" ... any other descriptive word in the English language.
Note: This opinion is not shared by the rest of me…
I've learned....
... that no amount of "x" will fix every problem, right every wrong, or make sure you succeed in every endeavor.
Sometimes...
... no matter how hard you try, right is not right, and wrong is not wrong... life just IS ... and, success or failure, it just happens.
Always...
... believe in yourself, your goals, your dreams, your ideals... and if you're meant to be successful, you will be, and if not, you will have done what you can do.
"x" as represented above, can be discipline, or strength, or love, or humility, or "x" ... any other descriptive word in the English language.
Note: This opinion is not shared by the rest of me…
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Good God (or, God is Good)
A couple of weeks ago, a long, lost cousin got my email address and contacted me. She and I have chatted quite a bit about family and the devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina, and a number of other subjects. One such, was about which church is the “right” church, and this is what she said:
“Mama always told us that if a person was good and did their best to be good they would go to Heaven or the New World or wherever people went to after death. She said that her grandparents didn't go to church and she knows they went on to wherever it is. She also told us that if you lived your life according to the bible and treated everyone as you wanted to be treated that you were fine. Also to believe in God. She always told us considering no one knew what God's word truly is to believe in ourselves and our raising. That the Bible was written according to King James and MEN wrote the Bible according to their interpreting scrolls. And they may of not got everything right. And since we know for a fact King James decided not to have all the books put in because he decided they weren't needed. So to always use our own judgment. Do what is right and treat people right. Never cheat someone. And be kind to Children and elderly and we couldn't go wrong. So a lot of people wouldn't agree and that is fine but that is the way I believe.”
I can hear her Mama’s voice as I read this, even though she’s gone now, and it brought back to me, memories of family and a childhood long gone. I could add quite a bit, of why this philosophy feels so right, even in this troublesome world, but, when it comes down to it, her Mama’s words of wisdom can’t be beat…
“Mama always told us that if a person was good and did their best to be good they would go to Heaven or the New World or wherever people went to after death. She said that her grandparents didn't go to church and she knows they went on to wherever it is. She also told us that if you lived your life according to the bible and treated everyone as you wanted to be treated that you were fine. Also to believe in God. She always told us considering no one knew what God's word truly is to believe in ourselves and our raising. That the Bible was written according to King James and MEN wrote the Bible according to their interpreting scrolls. And they may of not got everything right. And since we know for a fact King James decided not to have all the books put in because he decided they weren't needed. So to always use our own judgment. Do what is right and treat people right. Never cheat someone. And be kind to Children and elderly and we couldn't go wrong. So a lot of people wouldn't agree and that is fine but that is the way I believe.”
I can hear her Mama’s voice as I read this, even though she’s gone now, and it brought back to me, memories of family and a childhood long gone. I could add quite a bit, of why this philosophy feels so right, even in this troublesome world, but, when it comes down to it, her Mama’s words of wisdom can’t be beat…
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Kate's Prayer
Bedtime Prayer
by Kate, Age 7, Halifax, PA
September 5, 2005
Nighty, Nighty, Night.
Frighty, Frighty, Fright.
Don't be scared, God is here.
God is here,
God is here.
Nighty, Nighty, Night.
Amen
by Kate, Age 7, Halifax, PA
September 5, 2005
Nighty, Nighty, Night.
Frighty, Frighty, Fright.
Don't be scared, God is here.
God is here,
God is here.
Nighty, Nighty, Night.
Amen
Dad's Note: After the original posting, I went over this with Kate. The words were all correct. However, the way I had it laid out left something to be desired. The "Don't be scared" line was by itself, followed by three "God is here" statements, which did not fit her way of saying it. I have gone back and edited this in an attempt to make it more accurate when read out loud. She also pointed out to me, the last line, and how it went back and tied into the first line. She's gonna be quite the writer one day!!
Friday, September 02, 2005
Bad Times
I haven't written much lately. I've been too busy with work and life. I recently took my three week vacation to points south to see family. While we were there, in the South, in the first weeks of August, we made a day trip to New Orleans, and another to Pass Christian, Bay St. Louis, and on to Gulfport, all on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.
We did not know that less than a month later - indeed, in the same month - all of these places would be pretty much obliterated by a hurricane. My very first blog was my "response" to events in Southeast Asia, last December: Shakeup.
I suppose the ideas that I outlined in that story are nonsense, technically speaking... but still, the fact remains that climate change is occurring, although the defenders of the conquest of nature and natural resources maintain that this bad weather of late is just a thing that is cyclical in nature and nothing to really worry about. After all, does one degree really matter?
I do not have the answer to that one. I do know that, as in Southeast Asia last year, there's likely to be thousands dead in the aftermath of this storm. And, this is nothing new - thousands died in 1900 in a storm in Texas, long before "Global Warming" became an issue. Things happen. Weather happens. All we can do is support the folks who are living it. The victims who were on "ground zero" as well as the troops who are being sent in to help with the cleanup effort. My brother is one of the latter. And a couple of aunts and an uncle by marriage are among the former.
We do not know if everyone that we know is "all right". From the stories I have heard, no one is going to be "all right" down there, for a long, long time. The lady who tells the story of being "rescued" by boat. And the rescuers having to prod away the floating bodies with a stick to get the boat through. It tore her up to see a tiny baby, floating, lifeless, yet looking so real and innocent. The baby looked perfectly peaceful, normal, fine - no sign of the tragedy which had befallen it. She says she wished she could have picked him up and breathed life back into him. She was a survivor, but likely she'll never again be the same person she was before. It shook me up just reading that story - I cannot imagine being in her shoes.
As for my extended family. All we can do is hope and pray that they will pull through. The aunts, at least, were supposed to have evacuated, although they have tons of relations who may or may not have. And my brother. I envy him not. As bad as living through the storm and later having to be shuttled away to someplace else was, he and his comrades will have to live with the violence and heat and mosquitoes and alligators - all of which will be nothing when compared to the horror of the identification and recovery of bodies, young and old, white and black.
If you believe in a God... or even if you don’t, please take a moment to say a prayer for both the victims and the heroes of this event.
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