Generally I believe the United States should spend less time, money, and effort protecting the world and allocate most of those resources to protecting our own borders and citizens. So I would rather we had not gotten involved in Iraq. But we are there and there is a lot of debate about whether we should remain. Today's Wall Street Journal has an article that is a worthwhile read.
I believe we should outline clear objectives that are attainable in the next year, acheive them, and then get out of there. We live in a global society but it's time for America to move away from trying to solve all the world's problems--especially since much of the world does not even share our opinions on issues.
Iraq is not YET another Vietnam--58000 troops haven't died and we havn't spent 12--20 years there(depending on what dates you use for Vietnam conflict). But it's time to quit arguing about the past, set clear objectives and move toward them NOW.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Back to the Future--College Daze
My 4 years at University of Richmond (1964--68) were a continuation of high school. I had fun, studied more, but I really learned how to survive and succeed. I thought that task had aready been accomplished, but as I started college I still had a lot to learn. Academically I was never at the top of my class, but always managed to stay above average.
Several times I got reminders whenever I wasn't making the grade. The first time was my initial 6 week report where I had an F and two D's out of 5 classes. Scared the shit out of me--wound up turning the F and two D's into an A & two B's. Never had another D but had three F's in early reports and always managed to turn them into at least an A or B by semester's end. Any B or C grades always stayed a B or C. The only A grades I ever got in college started as a D or F. If I enjoyed a subject I usually did fine. But several times classes in my major (economics) started disastrously. Anytime I started with a lousy grade I could succeed with a sustained focused effort. In that regard my life has not changed--when I have an important goal and/or if the shit hits the fan I can pull rabbits out my hat. But when I don't really care I can be a huge slacker.
During college I learned how to survive and succeed-- sometimes on my own--other times through team work. I was in a fraternity (Pi Kappa Alpha) and formed lots of close friendships. I participated in track, soccer, and basketball and we won several intramural championships. l loved sports and had a great time working on many teams. My senior year I was awarded the Tom Taliferro athlete of the year award. Tom was a frat brother (class pledgemate) who was killed in a car accident in 1966. Getting that trophy was an unbelievably great feeling for me. Tommy was one of my earliest close friends to die unexpectedly. The last time I saw him was a Friday afternoon when he asked me to come with him on a trip to Ohio where he planned to propose to his girl friend. I remember asking him why should I go on a trip like that--I would be a an alternate driver with no date in Ohio all weekend. He fell asleep on the return trip on Monday and hit a bus. I'll never know whether going with him would have saved his life or perhaps ended mine. It's one reason why I believe more in the laws of nature, circumstance, common sense, and shit happens than in the all mighty being.
As for classes I enjoyed most of my economics courses--but not all. Favorites were micro, money & banking, investment theory & practice. Worst was economic history. Latin, which was mandatory, was the biggest waste of time that ever occurred during my campus life. The courses that provided the most practical experience for me were 2 semesters of speech classes. Learning how to research, prepare and deliver a presentation to an audience was an awesome experience. It was a skill I had not really sharpened before those classes, and I have used that skill ever since in my business career. The only topic I recall was a speech I prepared on boxing--I used the Emille Griffith vs Bennie "Kid" Paret fight to the death as the intoduction and I could give a compelling speech either for--or against boxing. I thought about trying out for the debate team after taking speech but the designated topic each season wasn't anything I was really interested in researching. If it had been about the pros and cons of boxing or most any sports topic I'd have been all over it.
As I approached graduation wondering what the future held, one maor issue I did not have to face was the draft and the Vietnam War. Because of knee surgery I was classified 1-Y which meant I did not have to serve in the military. At the time it was a major relief, but years later I think that military service could have helped me mature in a different way than I did. During college I worried about not having money and needing to start a career. I worried about being a college graduate private taking orders from a high school sergeant. I worried about going to Officer Candidate School, leading troops in Vietnam and getting shot. None of those senarios appealed to me. But in 1966 during a pre-draft physical all the military worries disappeared. My brother Mark did serve in the military and Vietnam. He survived but still has many emotions over his military service. He is starting to share them in his web blog and I read them with interest. I casually think about what my life would be like had I done the same thing. I ratioanize that I could still have perfectly good knees and be in a grave somewhere like 58,000 comrades. But when I really consider Vietnam I'm just damn glad Mark and I are still alive.
I still had to figure out a post graduation career. I went to the University of Richmond hoping to attend law school. Back then their law school graduates had the highest percentage of first time passers of the Virginia bar exam than any other law school. As I approached graduation, I had no debt--but no money. Since law school required money I had to go to work.
Several times I got reminders whenever I wasn't making the grade. The first time was my initial 6 week report where I had an F and two D's out of 5 classes. Scared the shit out of me--wound up turning the F and two D's into an A & two B's. Never had another D but had three F's in early reports and always managed to turn them into at least an A or B by semester's end. Any B or C grades always stayed a B or C. The only A grades I ever got in college started as a D or F. If I enjoyed a subject I usually did fine. But several times classes in my major (economics) started disastrously. Anytime I started with a lousy grade I could succeed with a sustained focused effort. In that regard my life has not changed--when I have an important goal and/or if the shit hits the fan I can pull rabbits out my hat. But when I don't really care I can be a huge slacker.
During college I learned how to survive and succeed-- sometimes on my own--other times through team work. I was in a fraternity (Pi Kappa Alpha) and formed lots of close friendships. I participated in track, soccer, and basketball and we won several intramural championships. l loved sports and had a great time working on many teams. My senior year I was awarded the Tom Taliferro athlete of the year award. Tom was a frat brother (class pledgemate) who was killed in a car accident in 1966. Getting that trophy was an unbelievably great feeling for me. Tommy was one of my earliest close friends to die unexpectedly. The last time I saw him was a Friday afternoon when he asked me to come with him on a trip to Ohio where he planned to propose to his girl friend. I remember asking him why should I go on a trip like that--I would be a an alternate driver with no date in Ohio all weekend. He fell asleep on the return trip on Monday and hit a bus. I'll never know whether going with him would have saved his life or perhaps ended mine. It's one reason why I believe more in the laws of nature, circumstance, common sense, and shit happens than in the all mighty being.
As for classes I enjoyed most of my economics courses--but not all. Favorites were micro, money & banking, investment theory & practice. Worst was economic history. Latin, which was mandatory, was the biggest waste of time that ever occurred during my campus life. The courses that provided the most practical experience for me were 2 semesters of speech classes. Learning how to research, prepare and deliver a presentation to an audience was an awesome experience. It was a skill I had not really sharpened before those classes, and I have used that skill ever since in my business career. The only topic I recall was a speech I prepared on boxing--I used the Emille Griffith vs Bennie "Kid" Paret fight to the death as the intoduction and I could give a compelling speech either for--or against boxing. I thought about trying out for the debate team after taking speech but the designated topic each season wasn't anything I was really interested in researching. If it had been about the pros and cons of boxing or most any sports topic I'd have been all over it.
As I approached graduation wondering what the future held, one maor issue I did not have to face was the draft and the Vietnam War. Because of knee surgery I was classified 1-Y which meant I did not have to serve in the military. At the time it was a major relief, but years later I think that military service could have helped me mature in a different way than I did. During college I worried about not having money and needing to start a career. I worried about being a college graduate private taking orders from a high school sergeant. I worried about going to Officer Candidate School, leading troops in Vietnam and getting shot. None of those senarios appealed to me. But in 1966 during a pre-draft physical all the military worries disappeared. My brother Mark did serve in the military and Vietnam. He survived but still has many emotions over his military service. He is starting to share them in his web blog and I read them with interest. I casually think about what my life would be like had I done the same thing. I ratioanize that I could still have perfectly good knees and be in a grave somewhere like 58,000 comrades. But when I really consider Vietnam I'm just damn glad Mark and I are still alive.
I still had to figure out a post graduation career. I went to the University of Richmond hoping to attend law school. Back then their law school graduates had the highest percentage of first time passers of the Virginia bar exam than any other law school. As I approached graduation, I had no debt--but no money. Since law school required money I had to go to work.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
When & How I Will Die--Update
I originally wrote an article about this on 01/31/05 and mentioned that with my arthritis perhaps a simple fall could take me beyond this life. My brother Mark commented that "I have often wondered if falling will take me out. Not yet. But a quick, abrupt fall into eternity is preferable to many other scenarios I can conjure."
I now wonder if my hope for a long, fruitful life and a peaceful passing is realistic. It's certainly a goal, but events remind me there is no guarantee. During RAAM (Race Across America) a rider was killed on June 23 in Colorado when he was hit by a car. Yesterday in Atlanta a runner was struck by a car while training as she crossed an intersection. I didn't know either one, but I do know both of them were pre-occupied with safety while training. Bob Breedlove was my age and rode ultra cycling events. Pat Foell was my next door neighbor's best friend.
These deaths were unexpected and happened instantly--one minute they were doing what they loved to do--and then they were gone from this life. Both of them left behind families and friends. They both obviously had many future goals--as both athletes and human beings. Neither one had a chance to say farewell. Many stories just like these happen every day. I have lost friends who died too early. But I've also seen other friends who died from debilitating physical and/or mental disorders that caused tremendous pain and heartache--sometimes to them and always to their family and friends.
If I am not destined to live 30--40 more years in good health and sound mind, then maybe leaving like Bob Breedlove and Pat Foell--or taking that quick, abrupt fall into eternity is a good way to go. Nevertheless I hope it's not too soon! In a post on his web log my brother Mark said about his combat during Vietnam called Death By Chance, "Shit happens. I saw it. Somehow I survived it. It's still there waiting to happen.... I am never totally safe. In that respect I am still on patrol, hoping nothing will happen but entirely aware of the potential."
So am I, Mark, so am I.
I now wonder if my hope for a long, fruitful life and a peaceful passing is realistic. It's certainly a goal, but events remind me there is no guarantee. During RAAM (Race Across America) a rider was killed on June 23 in Colorado when he was hit by a car. Yesterday in Atlanta a runner was struck by a car while training as she crossed an intersection. I didn't know either one, but I do know both of them were pre-occupied with safety while training. Bob Breedlove was my age and rode ultra cycling events. Pat Foell was my next door neighbor's best friend.
These deaths were unexpected and happened instantly--one minute they were doing what they loved to do--and then they were gone from this life. Both of them left behind families and friends. They both obviously had many future goals--as both athletes and human beings. Neither one had a chance to say farewell. Many stories just like these happen every day. I have lost friends who died too early. But I've also seen other friends who died from debilitating physical and/or mental disorders that caused tremendous pain and heartache--sometimes to them and always to their family and friends.
If I am not destined to live 30--40 more years in good health and sound mind, then maybe leaving like Bob Breedlove and Pat Foell--or taking that quick, abrupt fall into eternity is a good way to go. Nevertheless I hope it's not too soon! In a post on his web log my brother Mark said about his combat during Vietnam called Death By Chance, "Shit happens. I saw it. Somehow I survived it. It's still there waiting to happen.... I am never totally safe. In that respect I am still on patrol, hoping nothing will happen but entirely aware of the potential."
So am I, Mark, so am I.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
What a Pity
Yesterday a municipal election was held in Atlanta--if you want to call it that. In my District 6 less than 20% of registered voters turned out to vote for a critical city council post. Voter turn out in most elections is pitiful--so many citizens follow the president but are apathetic about issues closer to home. Last year in the presidential election lines at some precincts wrapped around the building. This year the same precincts waited 30 minutes before a single voter showed up.
For over 230 years our forefathers and present day soldiers have fought to preserve our independence and right to exercise our individual preferences in democratic elections. All the lives that have been lost in wars in our own country and all over the world during those 230 years are suppose to be about preserving that right. Perhaps most Americans today feel voting in elections doesn't matter anymore. When citizens are apathetic, government officials listen to those with money and influence. But it does matter. In District 6 when 2 candidates are separated by 6 votes with 48 provisional votes to be counted, it matters a great deal.
These 2 candidates were divided on a major issue, i.e. should a controversial parking deck be constructed in Piedmont Park. For the past year many debates, editorials, & articles have discussed the pros and cons of this issue. Everyone I asked had deep feelings one way or the other. It was like attempting to debate the abortion issue--everyone passionate, decided and ready to defend their position to the death. But yesterday less than 6,000 out of 30,000 voters showed up.
I have never missed voting in an election since becoming a registered voter. I've never decided the outcome of a single election, I have sometimes voted for obscure names for individual offices because I couldn't find any real information on either one. I've only voted for a major presidential candidate in 3 out of 10 elections because only having 2 choices is not enough in my opinion.
But I always show up and vote. What a pity so many others don't.
For over 230 years our forefathers and present day soldiers have fought to preserve our independence and right to exercise our individual preferences in democratic elections. All the lives that have been lost in wars in our own country and all over the world during those 230 years are suppose to be about preserving that right. Perhaps most Americans today feel voting in elections doesn't matter anymore. When citizens are apathetic, government officials listen to those with money and influence. But it does matter. In District 6 when 2 candidates are separated by 6 votes with 48 provisional votes to be counted, it matters a great deal.
These 2 candidates were divided on a major issue, i.e. should a controversial parking deck be constructed in Piedmont Park. For the past year many debates, editorials, & articles have discussed the pros and cons of this issue. Everyone I asked had deep feelings one way or the other. It was like attempting to debate the abortion issue--everyone passionate, decided and ready to defend their position to the death. But yesterday less than 6,000 out of 30,000 voters showed up.
I have never missed voting in an election since becoming a registered voter. I've never decided the outcome of a single election, I have sometimes voted for obscure names for individual offices because I couldn't find any real information on either one. I've only voted for a major presidential candidate in 3 out of 10 elections because only having 2 choices is not enough in my opinion.
But I always show up and vote. What a pity so many others don't.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
The Invisible Hand--Free Market Systems
In several earlier posts I have criticized our government because of how it has either interfered with the free market or not lived up to citizen's expectations. Here is how I came to firmly believe that the role of government in our country should be scrutinized constantly and limited to the greatest degree possible.
During my sophomore year in college I took a political science and an economics course thinking that one of those subjects would be my major. At the same time I also got a job at the Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles. My task was to look up drivers' records and post them as an MVR (way before computers). It was drudgery but it paid more per hour than I had ever earned in my life and I could work as much as my class schedule allowed--I was thrilled. I was given about 30 MVR requests and marched off into the file cabinet bowels of the DMV. When I turned them in to my supervisor 90 minutes later I was told it took 3 hours to record 30 MVRs and was told to re-check them. When I came back about 75 minutes later and they were all correct I was told again, "It takes 3 hours (180 minutes) to do 30 MVRs."
Besides learning that I could get a lot of school work done while recording MVRs I decided that the profit and entrepreneurial motives of our capitalistic economy were a lot more appealing to me than government bureaucracy. It also led me to major in economics instead of political science (the professors for each class also influenced me but that's another story). As I studied economics I decided that supply and demand operating in the free market should determine the outcome of economic activity. It's not perfect but it's more efficient and trustworthy than any career politician I know.
During my sophomore year in college I took a political science and an economics course thinking that one of those subjects would be my major. At the same time I also got a job at the Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles. My task was to look up drivers' records and post them as an MVR (way before computers). It was drudgery but it paid more per hour than I had ever earned in my life and I could work as much as my class schedule allowed--I was thrilled. I was given about 30 MVR requests and marched off into the file cabinet bowels of the DMV. When I turned them in to my supervisor 90 minutes later I was told it took 3 hours to record 30 MVRs and was told to re-check them. When I came back about 75 minutes later and they were all correct I was told again, "It takes 3 hours (180 minutes) to do 30 MVRs."
Besides learning that I could get a lot of school work done while recording MVRs I decided that the profit and entrepreneurial motives of our capitalistic economy were a lot more appealing to me than government bureaucracy. It also led me to major in economics instead of political science (the professors for each class also influenced me but that's another story). As I studied economics I decided that supply and demand operating in the free market should determine the outcome of economic activity. It's not perfect but it's more efficient and trustworthy than any career politician I know.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Back to the Future--Summer of 63
The film The Summer of 42 is the story about a teenager who experiences a watershed summer. My watershed summer was 1963. My father had died 8 months ago, my mother was hospitalized with her second nervous breakdown and I was totally out of control. I was still dealing with how my father could die without "saying goodbye" when he had to know it was going to happen. My mother had checked out for the second time in 6 months. I was drinking, dating and being the teenager who didn't have to abide by parental controls cause there were no parents around.
Then as my junior year in high school ended Mark and I were sent off with our Aunt Peg until our mother recovered. Peg and her husband Sy had to make major sacrifices to accommodate Mark and I. It seemed like the rest of our family either turned a deaf ear or were otherwise unable to help. I think that's when I decided that since my extended family wasn't available there wasn't any need to keep in touch with them (maybe my father was right). In any event I wound up in Johnstown , PA having no idea how long I might be there. The prospect of finishing high school there instead of Danville was not something I looked forward to.
So here we are living in a different city with an aunt, uncle, and 2 cousins (Mike & Gretchen). Mark remained rebellious while I decided the best course of action was "surface compliance". That meant I didn't make waves, got the trust of Peg & Sy, and then did what I wanted to do under the radar. I spent most of my summer walking over to Northfork Country Club where I would pick up money by caddying or lifeguarding. Other days I would hitch hike(which I wasn't allowed to do supposedly) into Westmont and play basketball and then get a ride home with my uncle (Sy).
Two memorable experiences made it a watershed summer. I had my first sexual experience with a blind date from Rockville, MD. I guess it was a conquest for her, but it was not much of a conquest for me. After it was over I was just glad not to be a cherry any more--and glad I would never have to face her again in my life. The nicest thing about first time sex is you never have to experience it a second time. Seems like sex and getting laid occupied my thoughts a lot. Trouble was it was mostly fantasizing, chasing and fumbling compared to very little action.
The other memorable experience involved "borrowing" a car. This one was a lot more exciting. Since almost everything I did that summer revolved around the desire to find girls, get laid or do something crazy, a friend and I decided to hang out all night together. We each told our family we were staying overnight at the other's house so we were free for the entire night. However, without a car we encountered serious limitations. Also teenagers in PA had Cinderella drivers licenses which meant they could not drive after midnight. But my friend had a plan: since I had a Virginia license I could drive all night so all we had to do was take one of his parent's cars after they went to bed. All this desire is driven by a slumber party on the other side of town. So around 10:00 we take the car, head to the party, pick up dates and head to the greens of Northfork Country Club. Also managed to pick up plenty of beer. Lot's of fun, drinking, but no real sex. Dropped the girls off around 3:00 and decided to see how fast the car (1963 Mercury Monterey) would go. I floored it on a straight road while my friend (Jim Pappas) watched the speed odometer. We passed some parked police who started after us but never found us. According to Jim we hit 115 mph. Got back to his house and realizing the car was muddy as hell decided to wash it. And that's what we were doing when his mother came outside to find out:
1. Why were we there instead of at my aunt's?
2. Why are we washing the car?
Here's our story: we were hitch hiking out to my aunt's and the guy giving us a ride had car problems. We got a ride back into Westmont and decided to sleep on the Pappas' porch. While we were sleeping some guys drove by and threw mud balls on the car. Since we were where we weren't suppose to be, we figured we'd be blamed for the mess so that's why we were washing the car. Not a very believable story--BUT--I looked his mother straight in the eye and did not deviate an inch form the original version no matter how many questions she asked. I also admitted to the venial sin of hitch hiking to avoid the mortal sin of car theft. I don't think she believed me, but she couldn't break me. Sometimes if you adopt the strategy of "that's my story and I'm sticking to it" you can escape (OJ, President Bill, etc). I escaped because Mrs Pappas never called my Aunt Peg so I continued my "surface compliance". Not my proudest moment but it was another survival lesson.
A third experience that summer also shaped my life. As my senior year started I decided to play football. I was a 143lb end who wound up playing defense because I was too slow to play offense. Wound up getting clipped in a scrimmage which damaged my left knee and required surgery. It kept me out of the military but I've suffered through 40+ years of arthritis and now face the prospect of knee replacement. When the pain becomes intolerable I remind myself that I could have perfectly good knee joints and be lying in a casket with my name inscribed on the Vietnam Memorial Wall.
In retrospect I wish I had been more pro active in thanking Peg & Sy for the sacrifices they made to accommodate Mark & I during that time. Recently I spoke with my cousin Mike who mentioned how much I had been like a "big brother" to him that summer. He said it in a very complimentary manner--I had no idea I had been anything expect a major inconvenience in his life that summer. At 17 I thought I saw the big picture--years later I reflect and realize I missed some special moments.
One experience I missed that summer of 63 was the escalation between blacks and whites. Danville was a town with a black majority, completely controlled by the whites and it was a prime battleground. MLK showed up there and demonstrations were occurring frequently. I wondered what all the fuss was about since everything was suppose to be "separate but equal". Then blacks demonstrated outside the white public library. I decided to check out the black library just to be sure things were as advertised mainly because the library was a place that was important to me. I don't even have to tell you how different the libraries were. Being as out of control as I was at the time it was probably a good thing I spent that summer somewhere else.
42 years later I look back on a watershed summer. I learned a lot about life, missed many other opportunites to grow even more as a person, but I survived. And so far that pattern has continued.
Then as my junior year in high school ended Mark and I were sent off with our Aunt Peg until our mother recovered. Peg and her husband Sy had to make major sacrifices to accommodate Mark and I. It seemed like the rest of our family either turned a deaf ear or were otherwise unable to help. I think that's when I decided that since my extended family wasn't available there wasn't any need to keep in touch with them (maybe my father was right). In any event I wound up in Johnstown , PA having no idea how long I might be there. The prospect of finishing high school there instead of Danville was not something I looked forward to.
So here we are living in a different city with an aunt, uncle, and 2 cousins (Mike & Gretchen). Mark remained rebellious while I decided the best course of action was "surface compliance". That meant I didn't make waves, got the trust of Peg & Sy, and then did what I wanted to do under the radar. I spent most of my summer walking over to Northfork Country Club where I would pick up money by caddying or lifeguarding. Other days I would hitch hike(which I wasn't allowed to do supposedly) into Westmont and play basketball and then get a ride home with my uncle (Sy).
Two memorable experiences made it a watershed summer. I had my first sexual experience with a blind date from Rockville, MD. I guess it was a conquest for her, but it was not much of a conquest for me. After it was over I was just glad not to be a cherry any more--and glad I would never have to face her again in my life. The nicest thing about first time sex is you never have to experience it a second time. Seems like sex and getting laid occupied my thoughts a lot. Trouble was it was mostly fantasizing, chasing and fumbling compared to very little action.
The other memorable experience involved "borrowing" a car. This one was a lot more exciting. Since almost everything I did that summer revolved around the desire to find girls, get laid or do something crazy, a friend and I decided to hang out all night together. We each told our family we were staying overnight at the other's house so we were free for the entire night. However, without a car we encountered serious limitations. Also teenagers in PA had Cinderella drivers licenses which meant they could not drive after midnight. But my friend had a plan: since I had a Virginia license I could drive all night so all we had to do was take one of his parent's cars after they went to bed. All this desire is driven by a slumber party on the other side of town. So around 10:00 we take the car, head to the party, pick up dates and head to the greens of Northfork Country Club. Also managed to pick up plenty of beer. Lot's of fun, drinking, but no real sex. Dropped the girls off around 3:00 and decided to see how fast the car (1963 Mercury Monterey) would go. I floored it on a straight road while my friend (Jim Pappas) watched the speed odometer. We passed some parked police who started after us but never found us. According to Jim we hit 115 mph. Got back to his house and realizing the car was muddy as hell decided to wash it. And that's what we were doing when his mother came outside to find out:
1. Why were we there instead of at my aunt's?
2. Why are we washing the car?
Here's our story: we were hitch hiking out to my aunt's and the guy giving us a ride had car problems. We got a ride back into Westmont and decided to sleep on the Pappas' porch. While we were sleeping some guys drove by and threw mud balls on the car. Since we were where we weren't suppose to be, we figured we'd be blamed for the mess so that's why we were washing the car. Not a very believable story--BUT--I looked his mother straight in the eye and did not deviate an inch form the original version no matter how many questions she asked. I also admitted to the venial sin of hitch hiking to avoid the mortal sin of car theft. I don't think she believed me, but she couldn't break me. Sometimes if you adopt the strategy of "that's my story and I'm sticking to it" you can escape (OJ, President Bill, etc). I escaped because Mrs Pappas never called my Aunt Peg so I continued my "surface compliance". Not my proudest moment but it was another survival lesson.
A third experience that summer also shaped my life. As my senior year started I decided to play football. I was a 143lb end who wound up playing defense because I was too slow to play offense. Wound up getting clipped in a scrimmage which damaged my left knee and required surgery. It kept me out of the military but I've suffered through 40+ years of arthritis and now face the prospect of knee replacement. When the pain becomes intolerable I remind myself that I could have perfectly good knee joints and be lying in a casket with my name inscribed on the Vietnam Memorial Wall.
In retrospect I wish I had been more pro active in thanking Peg & Sy for the sacrifices they made to accommodate Mark & I during that time. Recently I spoke with my cousin Mike who mentioned how much I had been like a "big brother" to him that summer. He said it in a very complimentary manner--I had no idea I had been anything expect a major inconvenience in his life that summer. At 17 I thought I saw the big picture--years later I reflect and realize I missed some special moments.
One experience I missed that summer of 63 was the escalation between blacks and whites. Danville was a town with a black majority, completely controlled by the whites and it was a prime battleground. MLK showed up there and demonstrations were occurring frequently. I wondered what all the fuss was about since everything was suppose to be "separate but equal". Then blacks demonstrated outside the white public library. I decided to check out the black library just to be sure things were as advertised mainly because the library was a place that was important to me. I don't even have to tell you how different the libraries were. Being as out of control as I was at the time it was probably a good thing I spent that summer somewhere else.
42 years later I look back on a watershed summer. I learned a lot about life, missed many other opportunites to grow even more as a person, but I survived. And so far that pattern has continued.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Back to the Future--Introduction
Sites like this offer an opportunity to share whatever you're willing to print for the public. So far I have shared current opinions and some reflections on the past. I was inspired by my brother Mark who started his site last year. He outlines lots of political opinions--some of which I don't share. But I really enjoy following his opinions, and I also enjoy posts about his AT experience. His posts are always well thought out and well written. Check him out at www.unsolictedopinion.blogspot.com
In Back to the Future Posts I'll go back to earlier times in my life, provide some factual information, and try to share my feelings. I'm not use to sharing that kind of stuff so we'll see how it develops.
I grew up in a unique family. Frank and Kay Fleming married on January 22, 1945. 367 days later I arrived at 6lbs 6ozs and 24 inches long. My mother said I looked like a piece of spaghetti. Mark arrived 20 months later, another brother who died 2 days after delivery in June 1950. My parents had an RH blood factor which now is easily addressed, but back then caused serious problems. First born(me) was normal but Mark had problems and my youngest brother Bruce didn't survive. The unique aspect of our family (compared to most) is we were 4 individuals who never really connected like the traditional family. My brother Mark and I shared the same bedroom but while growing up were not really close. In fact we seemed to have nothing in common as kids. Our parents seemed to be somewhere else while we were growing up--if I asked for help they would respond, but to me the message seemed to be, figure it out, move on and we'll back you because we trust you. We were given a lot more freedom to roam compared to other friends. Mark and I rode out bikes across town to school while most of our friends weren't allowed to ride off their street.
While growing up we were the only family without a car. According to our parents we didn't need one. Our father rode the bus to and from work; our mother would ride the bus to the grocery store then take a taxi home. That meant Mark and I either asked our friend's parents for rides, rode the bus, walked, or rode our bike. I remember feeling embarrassed about begging for rides, but I also relished the freedom I had to ride my bike anywhere I wanted to go. When we finally got a car in 1961, I virtually quit riding my bike throughout the rest of my high school years.
I have no recollection of all 4 of us going anywhere as a family. Mark and I visited cousins, sometimes together, sometimes on our own, sometimes with our mother--but never all 4 of us together. I also remember our parents going to a few weddings and conventions but Mark and I didn't go. Seems like our father was the one who wasn't interested in family travels or vacations. He seemed pleasant enough when relatives visited us but didn't seem interested in visiting anyone. I remember his mother and sister visiting us, and our mother's relatives visiting, but he never seemed interested in going anywhere--at least with his family.
But we were not completely disfunctional. Two certainties existed: dinner was served every night (execpt Tuesday) at about 6:00. The meal was the same for each day of the week--I won't bore you with each day's menu--but it was a time we gathered as a family. Most of the time normal stuff talked about. After dinner my father would usually take a short nap. The second certainty was I could go into his bedroom 30 minutes later, wake him up and share whatever I wanted to. I can't remember a single thing we ever talked about but I remember it was a time when I felt incredibly close to my father. I don't ever recall Mark or my mother joining those encounters with me. Maybe Mark had his own time and I'm sure our parents had intimate moments, but I have no idea how other members of my family connected. I never connected with Mark until we were adults, and never really connected with my mother on a very personal level as an individual.
I don't know much about my father's childhood and early adulthood. He died in 1962 so I have forgotten stories he shared with me. Since there weren't many relatives on his side and only one cousin left there isn't really anyone left to help figure out his past prior to his marriage. I know more about my mother because she came from a large family and lived until 1979. Our parents seemed very connected to each other--at least my mother was connected to our father. After he died she never really recovered from his loss. She had 2 nervous break downs and had to be hospitalized each time, the second time for about 6 months. She did go back to work as a nurse and seemed to do well for about 3 years, but some incident caused her to be released and after that happened she went into a 13 year decline smoking and drinking herself to an early death in 1979. It was very hard for me to watch this and after trying to help in the early years I just gave up and moved on with my life.
As I look back on my immediate family I see 4 talented individuals who did not connect as a family while we were together. Mark, myself and our mother are/were gifted writers. Our father was a 5th generation pharmacist. Other talents abound. I can't change the relationship with my parents--maybe I can dig deeper to improve my relationship with Mark.
In Back to the Future Posts I'll go back to earlier times in my life, provide some factual information, and try to share my feelings. I'm not use to sharing that kind of stuff so we'll see how it develops.
I grew up in a unique family. Frank and Kay Fleming married on January 22, 1945. 367 days later I arrived at 6lbs 6ozs and 24 inches long. My mother said I looked like a piece of spaghetti. Mark arrived 20 months later, another brother who died 2 days after delivery in June 1950. My parents had an RH blood factor which now is easily addressed, but back then caused serious problems. First born(me) was normal but Mark had problems and my youngest brother Bruce didn't survive. The unique aspect of our family (compared to most) is we were 4 individuals who never really connected like the traditional family. My brother Mark and I shared the same bedroom but while growing up were not really close. In fact we seemed to have nothing in common as kids. Our parents seemed to be somewhere else while we were growing up--if I asked for help they would respond, but to me the message seemed to be, figure it out, move on and we'll back you because we trust you. We were given a lot more freedom to roam compared to other friends. Mark and I rode out bikes across town to school while most of our friends weren't allowed to ride off their street.
While growing up we were the only family without a car. According to our parents we didn't need one. Our father rode the bus to and from work; our mother would ride the bus to the grocery store then take a taxi home. That meant Mark and I either asked our friend's parents for rides, rode the bus, walked, or rode our bike. I remember feeling embarrassed about begging for rides, but I also relished the freedom I had to ride my bike anywhere I wanted to go. When we finally got a car in 1961, I virtually quit riding my bike throughout the rest of my high school years.
I have no recollection of all 4 of us going anywhere as a family. Mark and I visited cousins, sometimes together, sometimes on our own, sometimes with our mother--but never all 4 of us together. I also remember our parents going to a few weddings and conventions but Mark and I didn't go. Seems like our father was the one who wasn't interested in family travels or vacations. He seemed pleasant enough when relatives visited us but didn't seem interested in visiting anyone. I remember his mother and sister visiting us, and our mother's relatives visiting, but he never seemed interested in going anywhere--at least with his family.
But we were not completely disfunctional. Two certainties existed: dinner was served every night (execpt Tuesday) at about 6:00. The meal was the same for each day of the week--I won't bore you with each day's menu--but it was a time we gathered as a family. Most of the time normal stuff talked about. After dinner my father would usually take a short nap. The second certainty was I could go into his bedroom 30 minutes later, wake him up and share whatever I wanted to. I can't remember a single thing we ever talked about but I remember it was a time when I felt incredibly close to my father. I don't ever recall Mark or my mother joining those encounters with me. Maybe Mark had his own time and I'm sure our parents had intimate moments, but I have no idea how other members of my family connected. I never connected with Mark until we were adults, and never really connected with my mother on a very personal level as an individual.
I don't know much about my father's childhood and early adulthood. He died in 1962 so I have forgotten stories he shared with me. Since there weren't many relatives on his side and only one cousin left there isn't really anyone left to help figure out his past prior to his marriage. I know more about my mother because she came from a large family and lived until 1979. Our parents seemed very connected to each other--at least my mother was connected to our father. After he died she never really recovered from his loss. She had 2 nervous break downs and had to be hospitalized each time, the second time for about 6 months. She did go back to work as a nurse and seemed to do well for about 3 years, but some incident caused her to be released and after that happened she went into a 13 year decline smoking and drinking herself to an early death in 1979. It was very hard for me to watch this and after trying to help in the early years I just gave up and moved on with my life.
As I look back on my immediate family I see 4 talented individuals who did not connect as a family while we were together. Mark, myself and our mother are/were gifted writers. Our father was a 5th generation pharmacist. Other talents abound. I can't change the relationship with my parents--maybe I can dig deeper to improve my relationship with Mark.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Disasters or Charities--Allocating Resources
Since 1998 I have been involved with the Leukemia/Lymphoma TeamInTraining program. They have trained thousands of endurance athletes who have raised over $60,000,000 for research and development in the battle against blood related cancers. I support them by training cyclists in Georgia to complete a century (100 mile bike ride) as each rider raises money to support TNT. I do this because it's a worthwhile cause and it gets folks involved in cycling who may not otherwise be riding. On a more selfish note it gives me a reason to get on my bike several times a week.
Over the years I've seen some of our participants get paralyzed about fund raising in the face of a disaster like 9/11, Katrina, etc. It begs the question how do we allocate resources to help people in need. The answer is--each person has to decide what they are willing to do and who deserves their effort. And there's no shortage of need--as Katrina devastated New Orleans, typhoons rocked Japan and other Asian countries. Today a blackout hit LA--maybe not a disaster on the order of Katrina but for a few hours 2,000,000 citizens were at risk and no doubt economic losses happened. A baby born in NJ to a brain-dead mother died last weekend and the family has over $600,000 in unpaid medical bills. It goes on and on. Shit happens everyday sometimes to lots of folks, others times to individuals. The only constant is that it never ends.
As the people impacted by Katrina begin to rebuild, individual acts of kindness and generosity happen every day. The Leukemia Society committed $1,000,000 to help people in the Gulf Coast area continue receiving treatment. America is a country that has the ability to allocate resources like no other country in the world. We do it on a macro scale and we do it on a micro scale. Debates and arguments abound about where to direct those resources--war on terror, Iraq, Katrina, homeless, uninsured etc.
We as individuals can't help everybody. We can help anyone. We make decisions everyday. Everyone reading this has the ability to contribute to charities, disasters or other causes in some way. I'll never question your choice--even if you decide not to participate.
Over the years I've seen some of our participants get paralyzed about fund raising in the face of a disaster like 9/11, Katrina, etc. It begs the question how do we allocate resources to help people in need. The answer is--each person has to decide what they are willing to do and who deserves their effort. And there's no shortage of need--as Katrina devastated New Orleans, typhoons rocked Japan and other Asian countries. Today a blackout hit LA--maybe not a disaster on the order of Katrina but for a few hours 2,000,000 citizens were at risk and no doubt economic losses happened. A baby born in NJ to a brain-dead mother died last weekend and the family has over $600,000 in unpaid medical bills. It goes on and on. Shit happens everyday sometimes to lots of folks, others times to individuals. The only constant is that it never ends.
As the people impacted by Katrina begin to rebuild, individual acts of kindness and generosity happen every day. The Leukemia Society committed $1,000,000 to help people in the Gulf Coast area continue receiving treatment. America is a country that has the ability to allocate resources like no other country in the world. We do it on a macro scale and we do it on a micro scale. Debates and arguments abound about where to direct those resources--war on terror, Iraq, Katrina, homeless, uninsured etc.
We as individuals can't help everybody. We can help anyone. We make decisions everyday. Everyone reading this has the ability to contribute to charities, disasters or other causes in some way. I'll never question your choice--even if you decide not to participate.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Reconnecting
My second road trip of 2005 took Greta and me back to Virginia. I had gotten a call from David Dunn, long time friend who I first met while working at Elkhorn (see previous post). I hadn't seen him in almost 7 years so when he suggested we get together I responded by setting a date for the weekend of August 19--21. I also tracked down anotherlong time friend, Dick Smith, who I hadn't seen since a 1984 high school reunion.
Once again I went through Danville and stopped at Danville National Cemetery. This time the gate was locked on a Friday at 12:00 noon--what are they trying to protect there--maybe they saw Greta and me driving up. I also went over to another cemetery where my Danville next door neighbor is buried. I lost track of the Browns in the mid 1960s but remembered where their father was buried. Found the spot but since his wife wasn't interred there and no one else from their immediate family was there either I decided not to leave a note in a plastic bag letting them know I was there. In retrospect kinda stupid not leaving something.
Had dinner with the Dunns and the Smiths Friday night. It's amazingly easy to reconnect with old friends. As we BSd about the past it was like it happened yesterday instead of the last century. My only regret was I couldn't spend the whole weekend with both couples. I did go for a bike ride with Dick and Susan early Saturday morning before heading to Buggs Island Lake with David and Judy. For the most part it was just an easy ride with 2 close friends, but one thing out of the ordinary happened. Susan made a comment about how most of the time guys just talk about stuff (like sports) but don't share emotions. Out of the blue I told her about the death of my father and how he never admitted to anyone that he was dying. I also told her neither one of my parents ever told me they loved me. I said that after going through those kind of experiences I learned how to keep stuff to myself. I wish we had more time to explore that--but then again maybe I'm glad that's as far as we got.
One thing about re-connecting with them that makes me wonder about life. Judy's parents are both alive and dong OK. David's parents both live in an assisted care center. Dick's dad has dementia and Susan's mother is in a nursing home under constant supervision. Both my parents died at fairly young ages. My father had a clear mind until the end. Although my mother didn't function all that well after our father's death her mind stayed reasonably sharp. In earlier posts I expressed a desire to live for a long, long time and die peacefully. However, if my mind and body both go before death I hope I don't last long in that state.
The rest of the weekend was fairly uneventful. No earth shattering revelations, just a relaxing weekend with good friends. I have been fortunate in my life to have developed close friendships with lots of people over my life. Because I moved around so much during my career with Chubb over 20 years I made a lot of friends and lost touch with a lot of friends. One of my life goals is to reach out to many of these folks and see if I can re-connect in some fashion.
Once again I went through Danville and stopped at Danville National Cemetery. This time the gate was locked on a Friday at 12:00 noon--what are they trying to protect there--maybe they saw Greta and me driving up. I also went over to another cemetery where my Danville next door neighbor is buried. I lost track of the Browns in the mid 1960s but remembered where their father was buried. Found the spot but since his wife wasn't interred there and no one else from their immediate family was there either I decided not to leave a note in a plastic bag letting them know I was there. In retrospect kinda stupid not leaving something.
Had dinner with the Dunns and the Smiths Friday night. It's amazingly easy to reconnect with old friends. As we BSd about the past it was like it happened yesterday instead of the last century. My only regret was I couldn't spend the whole weekend with both couples. I did go for a bike ride with Dick and Susan early Saturday morning before heading to Buggs Island Lake with David and Judy. For the most part it was just an easy ride with 2 close friends, but one thing out of the ordinary happened. Susan made a comment about how most of the time guys just talk about stuff (like sports) but don't share emotions. Out of the blue I told her about the death of my father and how he never admitted to anyone that he was dying. I also told her neither one of my parents ever told me they loved me. I said that after going through those kind of experiences I learned how to keep stuff to myself. I wish we had more time to explore that--but then again maybe I'm glad that's as far as we got.
One thing about re-connecting with them that makes me wonder about life. Judy's parents are both alive and dong OK. David's parents both live in an assisted care center. Dick's dad has dementia and Susan's mother is in a nursing home under constant supervision. Both my parents died at fairly young ages. My father had a clear mind until the end. Although my mother didn't function all that well after our father's death her mind stayed reasonably sharp. In earlier posts I expressed a desire to live for a long, long time and die peacefully. However, if my mind and body both go before death I hope I don't last long in that state.
The rest of the weekend was fairly uneventful. No earth shattering revelations, just a relaxing weekend with good friends. I have been fortunate in my life to have developed close friendships with lots of people over my life. Because I moved around so much during my career with Chubb over 20 years I made a lot of friends and lost touch with a lot of friends. One of my life goals is to reach out to many of these folks and see if I can re-connect in some fashion.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Family Reunion
During the past 2 years I attended the weddings of my cousin's (Kathy Bonner) children. I saw cousins I had not seen in many years. But many relatives didn't make those weddings including my aunt, Peg Seifret who is the only living relative from my parent's generation. She lives in Johnstown, PA and at 87 isn't up for traveling so I promised myself to see her in 2005. I had thought about going in July as the Tour de Toona bike race comes through there, but thanks to my brother Mark a more immediate reason developed. He had come east in April to hike portions of the Appalachian Trail he missed in 2002 and was finishing up in PA. I agreed to meet him, see Peg and do some family exploring before dropping him off in Virginia to re-connect with some hikers.
I left Atlanta on Sunday morning May 22 with my dog Greta and headed to my hometown of Danville, VA. It's a town that's better to be from than at, but I did live there from 1949--1966 and my parents are buried there. Even though I have only set foot there 3 times in the last 26 years Danville is part of who I am. On this trip I checked into a hotel, got Greta comfortable and set off on my bicycle to ride streets I rode all over town as a kid. Went over to my old street and the only family still there was the Amati's. They were easy to pick out because everyone else on the street was black (African-American). I stopped and chatted with them about 15 minutes, but had some miles to cover before dark so I took off and rode over to where Sacred Heart School use to be. Nothing left but an old cottage that was our lunch room--Averett College (maybe University now) had taken over the rest of the land and torn down the house that served as my elementary school for 7 years. Growing up and riding the bikes I rode as a kid it seemed like 10 miles each way but 40 years later it was only 4 miles. The hills use to seem like mountains then; now they weren't anything special with 1 exception. On Monroe there was a hill I rode up occasionally that even now was extremely steep--very short only 200 meters but I wondered how I ever even got up it as a kid. In over 2 hours of riding all over town I never saw another cyclist. Went by Danville National Cemetery (my parent's place) but the gate was closed AND locked (is that to prevent grave robbing??)--thought about leaving my bike and hopping over the fence but as I surveyed the neighborhood I decided that wasn't a good idea.
The next morning I took Greta and went back to the cemetery. Even though I've only been there 5 times (including my parents' funerals) it's a very peaceful place. This time the peace was broken by a groundskeeper who told me dogs weren't allowed. I asked him which one of the patrons complained, but he didn't understand (like the movie Chinatown, "it's just Danville, Jake."). On the way out of town I stopped at 2 sites where I worked, the 360 Drive In and Elkhorn Recreation Park. The drive in site is now a church although the old screen is still standing--barely. Elkhorn hadn't changed much and Greta had a blast chasing tennis balls I chucked into the lake. They weren't open yet but Memorial Day was only 1 week away. Exactly 40 years before I was life guarding there, wondering what the world held in store for me. Actually I spent most of my time that summer wondering how many times I could get laid (answer about 50 times less than I planned). Then it was on to Johnstown through some of the prettiest countryside in Virginia I had ever seen. I had been through most of it previously but it's amazing how much of the beauty there I had never appreciated.
I arrived at Peg's late afternoon right after Mark. I was greeted by Mark, Peg, our cousin Gretchen, husband Don, her children (Bob, EJ, Russell, Alicia) and Joe (Mike Seifret's son). Greta was greeted by 2 dogs (Bear & Buck). My greeting was much friendlier, but the dogs eventually sorted things out. Mark and I spend 5 days there catching up on family information. I went through Peg's address book and got updates on most of my cousins. I plan to send out a broadcast message and see if I can re-establish contact with those that still elude me. I did several bike rides out to places I hung out when I spent the summer of 1963 in Johnstown (another summer where getting laid was a huge priority but very little reality). Gretchen and Peg drove Mark and I to the cemetery where our grandparents are buried--first time we had ever been there. Then we drove around town to the sites where Peg and our Mother grew up in Johnstown. The houses were all gone but we found the locations.
It was great to see Peg again. She and her husband Sy (who died in 1992) did more for Mark and I than any other relatives during the year following our Father's death in 1962. Perhaps that's why I didn't bother to stay in touch with other relatives. Kind of short sighted since almost all my cousins were in no position to do anything. Not sure why some of their parents didn't help more. However, at this point all the folks who could have helped are gone. Peg doesn't drive any more, tells the same stories over and over, but I enjoyed listening to them and sometimes she would recall a fact that she didn't remember the first few times she told the story. She's still pretty astute and I hope I'm at least that sharp assuming I can last another 28 years.
On Saturday Mark and I headed to our Father's hometown of Shippensburg. I had never spent any time there. We found our grandparent's grave site as we got drenched in rain. Then we went into town to locate the family drug store and house (which was on the second floor over the store). The specific address was no longer there but the Shippensburg Historical Society was across the street and open. We found a photo taken in 1906 of the store the year our grandfather took over from our great uncle. Our grandfather is standing in front of the store with several other folks. We also found copies of obituaries of our grandparents and some some other family members.
So in less than a week I visited my hometown and the hometowns of both parents (with my brother). I spent more time in cemeteries in a week than I have over the last 10 years. Caught up on the whereabouts of many relatives and now have a decent genealogy chart back to my great grand parents. I could never envision living in Danville or Johnstown, but Shippensburg is a place I could settle down in. Probably won't happen though since it's cold up there in the winter and I don't have any relatives or friends living nearby.
Then it was back down to Virginia where we stayed with a college friend of Mark's. The Blue Ridge area of Virginia was spectacular. I told Mark that if I had ever settled in that area in my younger days I would have never left. That's another place I could settle down in but it's still a little to chilly in the winter. I dropped Mark off on the AT late Sunday afternoon and drove 400 miles back to Atlanta. I should have made this odyssey a long time ago, but I'm glad I got it done.
I left Atlanta on Sunday morning May 22 with my dog Greta and headed to my hometown of Danville, VA. It's a town that's better to be from than at, but I did live there from 1949--1966 and my parents are buried there. Even though I have only set foot there 3 times in the last 26 years Danville is part of who I am. On this trip I checked into a hotel, got Greta comfortable and set off on my bicycle to ride streets I rode all over town as a kid. Went over to my old street and the only family still there was the Amati's. They were easy to pick out because everyone else on the street was black (African-American). I stopped and chatted with them about 15 minutes, but had some miles to cover before dark so I took off and rode over to where Sacred Heart School use to be. Nothing left but an old cottage that was our lunch room--Averett College (maybe University now) had taken over the rest of the land and torn down the house that served as my elementary school for 7 years. Growing up and riding the bikes I rode as a kid it seemed like 10 miles each way but 40 years later it was only 4 miles. The hills use to seem like mountains then; now they weren't anything special with 1 exception. On Monroe there was a hill I rode up occasionally that even now was extremely steep--very short only 200 meters but I wondered how I ever even got up it as a kid. In over 2 hours of riding all over town I never saw another cyclist. Went by Danville National Cemetery (my parent's place) but the gate was closed AND locked (is that to prevent grave robbing??)--thought about leaving my bike and hopping over the fence but as I surveyed the neighborhood I decided that wasn't a good idea.
The next morning I took Greta and went back to the cemetery. Even though I've only been there 5 times (including my parents' funerals) it's a very peaceful place. This time the peace was broken by a groundskeeper who told me dogs weren't allowed. I asked him which one of the patrons complained, but he didn't understand (like the movie Chinatown, "it's just Danville, Jake."). On the way out of town I stopped at 2 sites where I worked, the 360 Drive In and Elkhorn Recreation Park. The drive in site is now a church although the old screen is still standing--barely. Elkhorn hadn't changed much and Greta had a blast chasing tennis balls I chucked into the lake. They weren't open yet but Memorial Day was only 1 week away. Exactly 40 years before I was life guarding there, wondering what the world held in store for me. Actually I spent most of my time that summer wondering how many times I could get laid (answer about 50 times less than I planned). Then it was on to Johnstown through some of the prettiest countryside in Virginia I had ever seen. I had been through most of it previously but it's amazing how much of the beauty there I had never appreciated.
I arrived at Peg's late afternoon right after Mark. I was greeted by Mark, Peg, our cousin Gretchen, husband Don, her children (Bob, EJ, Russell, Alicia) and Joe (Mike Seifret's son). Greta was greeted by 2 dogs (Bear & Buck). My greeting was much friendlier, but the dogs eventually sorted things out. Mark and I spend 5 days there catching up on family information. I went through Peg's address book and got updates on most of my cousins. I plan to send out a broadcast message and see if I can re-establish contact with those that still elude me. I did several bike rides out to places I hung out when I spent the summer of 1963 in Johnstown (another summer where getting laid was a huge priority but very little reality). Gretchen and Peg drove Mark and I to the cemetery where our grandparents are buried--first time we had ever been there. Then we drove around town to the sites where Peg and our Mother grew up in Johnstown. The houses were all gone but we found the locations.
It was great to see Peg again. She and her husband Sy (who died in 1992) did more for Mark and I than any other relatives during the year following our Father's death in 1962. Perhaps that's why I didn't bother to stay in touch with other relatives. Kind of short sighted since almost all my cousins were in no position to do anything. Not sure why some of their parents didn't help more. However, at this point all the folks who could have helped are gone. Peg doesn't drive any more, tells the same stories over and over, but I enjoyed listening to them and sometimes she would recall a fact that she didn't remember the first few times she told the story. She's still pretty astute and I hope I'm at least that sharp assuming I can last another 28 years.
On Saturday Mark and I headed to our Father's hometown of Shippensburg. I had never spent any time there. We found our grandparent's grave site as we got drenched in rain. Then we went into town to locate the family drug store and house (which was on the second floor over the store). The specific address was no longer there but the Shippensburg Historical Society was across the street and open. We found a photo taken in 1906 of the store the year our grandfather took over from our great uncle. Our grandfather is standing in front of the store with several other folks. We also found copies of obituaries of our grandparents and some some other family members.
So in less than a week I visited my hometown and the hometowns of both parents (with my brother). I spent more time in cemeteries in a week than I have over the last 10 years. Caught up on the whereabouts of many relatives and now have a decent genealogy chart back to my great grand parents. I could never envision living in Danville or Johnstown, but Shippensburg is a place I could settle down in. Probably won't happen though since it's cold up there in the winter and I don't have any relatives or friends living nearby.
Then it was back down to Virginia where we stayed with a college friend of Mark's. The Blue Ridge area of Virginia was spectacular. I told Mark that if I had ever settled in that area in my younger days I would have never left. That's another place I could settle down in but it's still a little to chilly in the winter. I dropped Mark off on the AT late Sunday afternoon and drove 400 miles back to Atlanta. I should have made this odyssey a long time ago, but I'm glad I got it done.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
My Beliefs
The protracted battle over Terry Schiavo was nobody's business except her family's. These situations have occurred for many years. They are gut wrenching for the immediate family who make decisions even in cases where a person attempted to clarify their wishes. The one clear message from this is, everyone needs to decide their preferences, outline them in writing, and discuss them with family. Even then arguments can arise but hopefully can be resolved without involving outsiders. I believe family matters should be settled by family instead of public opinion or government.
Most of us spend too much time following what the president is/is not doing and not near enough time following what's happening in our local city council. I don't think it makes that much difference who's president. Most of the folks who actually get far enough to actually have a chance to be elected will wind up making the same macro decisions when shit hits the fan. In the mean time local issues fly under the radar until we wake up one day and wonder what the hell happened to our sewers, schools, etc. I believe we as individuals need to focus on micro issues more so that macro issues.
I just read Deep Survival (who lives,who dies and why) by Laurence Gonzalez. It deals with the many factors that allow people to either survive or not survive in difficult situations. A very interesting read and there is a website: www.deepsurvival.com. It made me question how I made it to 59 when others didn't
I question whether there is a God or even an after life. It's nice that most people believe there's a spiritual being somewhere who is all loving, all forgiving, and yet willing to create some evil human beings who prey on very good people. I believe in the laws of nature. Some of us survive despite being reckless--others don't--sometimes it's their own fault-- other times it's being in the wrong place at the wrong time. What God would create people who become capable of taking all those lives on 9/11, let alone create all those lives to end so suddenly and through no fault of their own. How come Bob Breedlove, a well respected doctor, family man, a super cyclist always compettitive yet safety concious drifts across the road into a car during RAAM. I think it's because the laws of nature sometimes dictate that "shit happens".
Despite this agnostic view I do have morals and a sense of what's right and wrong. I try to live my life so that I'm considered an asset to the world over the course of my life. I've helped a lot of people and also received help from many people. I've also made my fair share of mistakes--the worst thing I ever did was to be unfaithful to my first wife (Pam). I was totally faithful to my second wife (Nancy) and that sure didn't matter. I believe that if there is an after life I'll be on the heaven side rather than the hell side--if I spend some time in purgatory that's OK, but I think the game ends with our last breath. I believe in nature, biology, physics and chemistry--not sure about the spiritual or the after life.
Most of us spend too much time following what the president is/is not doing and not near enough time following what's happening in our local city council. I don't think it makes that much difference who's president. Most of the folks who actually get far enough to actually have a chance to be elected will wind up making the same macro decisions when shit hits the fan. In the mean time local issues fly under the radar until we wake up one day and wonder what the hell happened to our sewers, schools, etc. I believe we as individuals need to focus on micro issues more so that macro issues.
I just read Deep Survival (who lives,who dies and why) by Laurence Gonzalez. It deals with the many factors that allow people to either survive or not survive in difficult situations. A very interesting read and there is a website: www.deepsurvival.com. It made me question how I made it to 59 when others didn't
I question whether there is a God or even an after life. It's nice that most people believe there's a spiritual being somewhere who is all loving, all forgiving, and yet willing to create some evil human beings who prey on very good people. I believe in the laws of nature. Some of us survive despite being reckless--others don't--sometimes it's their own fault-- other times it's being in the wrong place at the wrong time. What God would create people who become capable of taking all those lives on 9/11, let alone create all those lives to end so suddenly and through no fault of their own. How come Bob Breedlove, a well respected doctor, family man, a super cyclist always compettitive yet safety concious drifts across the road into a car during RAAM. I think it's because the laws of nature sometimes dictate that "shit happens".
Despite this agnostic view I do have morals and a sense of what's right and wrong. I try to live my life so that I'm considered an asset to the world over the course of my life. I've helped a lot of people and also received help from many people. I've also made my fair share of mistakes--the worst thing I ever did was to be unfaithful to my first wife (Pam). I was totally faithful to my second wife (Nancy) and that sure didn't matter. I believe that if there is an after life I'll be on the heaven side rather than the hell side--if I spend some time in purgatory that's OK, but I think the game ends with our last breath. I believe in nature, biology, physics and chemistry--not sure about the spiritual or the after life.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Security or Common Sense
This morning in Atlanta a defendant (Brian Nicholls) heading to trail managed to thwart security, get his hands on a gun, kill 3 people, wound another, and assault others as he car jacked vehicles. As I write this he's still on the loose and lots of people are grieving. Officials, media & reporters are investigating what went wrong. Surely life in our court system is about to change.
I've been in many government buildings over the past few years. On a few occasions I've ventured into a court room. About 10 years ago I went to court because I had not attached the registration renewal sticker to my car tag & got a ticket. I had to physically show up with proof that I had renewed my registration. Fair enough. I showed up, and had a 2 inch pocket knife confiscated as I walked into the building. Over 30 years ago I visited the Atlanta Federal prison to play a tennis match. As I went through various doors the security checks were overwhelming and intimidating. Since 9/11 I can't board a plane without a full body screen because of the metal implanted in my left hip. From my perspective security in America seems pretty damn intense. But it's never going to be perfect.
What went wrong in Atlanta today? Ask the person who allowed a 6' 1" 200 lb male who had weapons found on his person (while in custody) the day before to be in the custody of one female deputy sheriff. I do think that defendants have the right to face a jury in street clothes without shackles. If they pull the stunt Brian Nicholls did, they deserve one clean shot in the back of their head. I guess we could keep a SWAT sniper in the background to react after the fact. I would prefer a dose of common sense. More than one deputy sheriff assigned to defendants like Brian Nickolls would cost us a lot less than the grief and the man hunt now going on.
I've been in many government buildings over the past few years. On a few occasions I've ventured into a court room. About 10 years ago I went to court because I had not attached the registration renewal sticker to my car tag & got a ticket. I had to physically show up with proof that I had renewed my registration. Fair enough. I showed up, and had a 2 inch pocket knife confiscated as I walked into the building. Over 30 years ago I visited the Atlanta Federal prison to play a tennis match. As I went through various doors the security checks were overwhelming and intimidating. Since 9/11 I can't board a plane without a full body screen because of the metal implanted in my left hip. From my perspective security in America seems pretty damn intense. But it's never going to be perfect.
What went wrong in Atlanta today? Ask the person who allowed a 6' 1" 200 lb male who had weapons found on his person (while in custody) the day before to be in the custody of one female deputy sheriff. I do think that defendants have the right to face a jury in street clothes without shackles. If they pull the stunt Brian Nicholls did, they deserve one clean shot in the back of their head. I guess we could keep a SWAT sniper in the background to react after the fact. I would prefer a dose of common sense. More than one deputy sheriff assigned to defendants like Brian Nickolls would cost us a lot less than the grief and the man hunt now going on.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Social Security--Neither Social nor Secure
I've been a card carrying member of this system 45 years. During much of that time I would have been happy to opt out of the program if the government would just let me keep the future taxes paid into the system by me and my employer. Now that I'm in my 60th year that's no longer a wise option. Whether you believe there is a future Social Security crisis or not, just looking at a typical individual's annual benefits statement should be enough to alert you that something's got to change!
My last statement says that if I retire at 66 and collect benefits, the estimated monthly payout should be about $1600, slightly over $19,000 a year. My statement indicates I and my employers have put in slightly over $100,000 so far. I've already collected about $6,000 in survivor benefits after my father died. It certainly helped get me through college. I probably have a life expectancy of living into my 80's so $20,000 a year for say 15 years means I would collect about 3 times the amount of money I put into the system. And yes I know I'm not taking into consideration the time value of money (interest), but let's face it most of the money I put into the systemwas paid to earlier generations a long time ago. Besides once it left my paycheck it was no longer my money. Since I'm on the front end of the "boomer" generation, there are enough folks behind me contributing so that my benefits are secure. But some day the system will have to change.
Social Security has provided a financial cushion for a lot of people over it's 70+ years and it will continue to do so through my lifetime. But now the Republicans, Democrats, and lobby groups like AARP are debating potential changes. Each group seems polarized and willing to fight to the death over this. Every one of them comes to the debate armed with a multitude of facts and figures supporting their position. It's just like the last presidential campaign--lots of bickering and so far no meeting of the minds to compromise on a long term solution. Reminds me of the abortion debate--everyone deeply involved in that issue has already made up their mind and nothing, nothing anyone else can say will cause one single person to change their mind.
Do I have a solution? I think folks who face the potential insecurity of the future system should decide on the future of Social Security. Those of us who are already reasonably certain of the benefits should stay out of the debate. Having said that, if I were just starting my working life over I would vote to opt out of the ststem altogether or create my own private account. That's somewhat selfish because Social Security is a system that is suppose to provide for the general welfare of society--and it has indeed done that over it's 70 year existence. But I believe it's time for the government to turn retirement planning--or at least some portion of it--back to the individual.
So young folks, get involved, help formulate the future because the future Social Security debate is now your baby--not mine!
My last statement says that if I retire at 66 and collect benefits, the estimated monthly payout should be about $1600, slightly over $19,000 a year. My statement indicates I and my employers have put in slightly over $100,000 so far. I've already collected about $6,000 in survivor benefits after my father died. It certainly helped get me through college. I probably have a life expectancy of living into my 80's so $20,000 a year for say 15 years means I would collect about 3 times the amount of money I put into the system. And yes I know I'm not taking into consideration the time value of money (interest), but let's face it most of the money I put into the systemwas paid to earlier generations a long time ago. Besides once it left my paycheck it was no longer my money. Since I'm on the front end of the "boomer" generation, there are enough folks behind me contributing so that my benefits are secure. But some day the system will have to change.
Social Security has provided a financial cushion for a lot of people over it's 70+ years and it will continue to do so through my lifetime. But now the Republicans, Democrats, and lobby groups like AARP are debating potential changes. Each group seems polarized and willing to fight to the death over this. Every one of them comes to the debate armed with a multitude of facts and figures supporting their position. It's just like the last presidential campaign--lots of bickering and so far no meeting of the minds to compromise on a long term solution. Reminds me of the abortion debate--everyone deeply involved in that issue has already made up their mind and nothing, nothing anyone else can say will cause one single person to change their mind.
Do I have a solution? I think folks who face the potential insecurity of the future system should decide on the future of Social Security. Those of us who are already reasonably certain of the benefits should stay out of the debate. Having said that, if I were just starting my working life over I would vote to opt out of the ststem altogether or create my own private account. That's somewhat selfish because Social Security is a system that is suppose to provide for the general welfare of society--and it has indeed done that over it's 70 year existence. But I believe it's time for the government to turn retirement planning--or at least some portion of it--back to the individual.
So young folks, get involved, help formulate the future because the future Social Security debate is now your baby--not mine!
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Papa's Little Girl
3 years ago today my best friend died. Shadow was 14 years old and she was the best dog I've ever had. That's saying something since I've had several dogs including my current dog Greta. All pets are special but the 14 year relationship I had with Shadow will always be one that I remember every day.
Shadow showed up in my life the day I came back from Bill Brink's wedding in July 1988. My wife Nancy worked for an eye doctor whose golden retriever had delivered mixed breed puppies. He was selling them for $50 a piece and she wanted to buy one for Jeff. I didn't think it was a great idea since we already had an old dog name Bo, a young cat named Sneakers (previously acquired for Jeff) and I couldn't see spending $50 for a mutt. We were also re-carpeting the house with white carpeting. But as I left for Bill's wedding I told her if she could get one of the pups free it might be OK. I was thinking that since Bo was 16 years old and on his last legs and the cat was young maybe it would work. When I pulled into the drive way Nancy Jeff and the new puppy were playing in the front yard. She was solid black and Jeff had already named her Shadow. Her name was prophetic because she became my shadow. I would usually greet her with the phrase "how's papa's little girl?" Shadow would respond with a whine that would last about a minute--like she hadn't seen me in forever.
I could take Shadow without a leash anywhere. She would follow every command. On a busy street she would stop when told, go when told. She would follow me to the extent that when I played tennis she would sit right by the court fence on whatever side I was on and would change sides whenever I did. When I would walk Shadow sometimes I would play hide & seek with her. I would let her get ahead then duck behind a tree. Once she realized I wasn't in site her world stopped until she found me. Her memory was incredible. Jeff was away at school sometimes for more than a year between visits. Whenever he came back she recognized him instantly and would whine with delight Another time Shadow was at work with me when a person I had dated for about a year but hadn't seen in more than 2 years came into the store. I was in the back when I heard that familiar whine of delight from Shadow.
When Shadow was young she loved to play with other dogs. She was very fast and would coax them into chasing her. When she got them going as fast as they could go she would slow down and just as they reached her she would make a "Gale Sayers" type move and they would slide right by her. The only dog I can remember being able to catch her was her mother (Sabrina) who we saw fairly frequently until Nancy & I divorced. As Shadow got older though she lost interest in most other dogs. But she developed a friendship with my neighbor's dog Maggie that lasted the rest of her life. They would play, wrestle and try to pin each other to the ground. 3 years later Maggie still wonders when Shadow's coming back--I sometimes have the same thought.
Shadow was always polite and somewhat timid around other dogs, but she took no shit from any dog who tried to get in her face. In 1999 we drove up to Virginia to spend the weekend with David Dunn, a friend I've known over 40 years but hadn't seen in a long time. He had an older dog and Shadow and he acknowledged each other and were fine. Later that weekend his sister in law came over with her dog--a young collie named Timmy. That dog was constantly in Shadow's face wanting to play but she didn't want to. She would walk away but he kept following her around like a love sick puppy. Shadow then started growling at him showing her teeth as if to say "leave me alone before I do something you'll regret." After about 3 hours of this Shadow was through being polite. The next time Timmy stuck his snout in her face she bit his nose and he jumped back hitting a table with a bunch of glass figurines. They all shook and a few fell over but none broke. After that exchange Timmy left Shadow alone.
In October, 2001 Shadow had her annual check up at the vet and everything was normal. On December 6 I came home and my neighbor left a voice mail message that she had rushed Shadow to the vet because her eyes were jaundiced. The vet decided to keep her overnight and it was too late for me to see her. That was only the second time in her life that Shadow had spent a night away from home without me or in the company of a roommate, neighbor or friend. The vet ran extensive tests and we hoped she had ingested something poisonous because that could probably be treated. However, the results came back as liver cancer and there was nothing we could do except put her on steroids and hope for a couple months.
Those 2 months were the best AND worst months I have ever experienced in my relationship with Shadow. Knowing the end was near made every moment we spent together very special. She had mostly good days for the majority of those 2 months. We fed her virtually anything she would eat because there was no long term any more--chicken, steak, baby food whatever. It was comforting that I could say good-bye over a period of time but having to face the very end was brutal. On Saturday (02/10) Shadow was feeling really bad, but when Jeff came by that afternoon she perked up and greeted him with her joyous whine. I thought we had more time but it was not to be. Calling the vet to schedule euthanasia and making arrangements to have her cremated were gut wrenching. My neighbor Jeannette drove us to the vet--I had it scheduled for the evening after everyone else was gone but after putting her on the exam table I couldn't stay--I said good-bye and left. I walked to my office, stayed there a few hours and then walked home. I didn't want to see anyone, I just missed "papa's little girl" so much. I cried. Three years later I still miss her.
I have her ashes, and hope someday (many years from now) they'll be scattered with mine. Shadow's not really gone. To quote the last line in Willie Morris' book My Dog Skip, a" part of her lies buried in my heart. I think of Shadow every day."
Shadow showed up in my life the day I came back from Bill Brink's wedding in July 1988. My wife Nancy worked for an eye doctor whose golden retriever had delivered mixed breed puppies. He was selling them for $50 a piece and she wanted to buy one for Jeff. I didn't think it was a great idea since we already had an old dog name Bo, a young cat named Sneakers (previously acquired for Jeff) and I couldn't see spending $50 for a mutt. We were also re-carpeting the house with white carpeting. But as I left for Bill's wedding I told her if she could get one of the pups free it might be OK. I was thinking that since Bo was 16 years old and on his last legs and the cat was young maybe it would work. When I pulled into the drive way Nancy Jeff and the new puppy were playing in the front yard. She was solid black and Jeff had already named her Shadow. Her name was prophetic because she became my shadow. I would usually greet her with the phrase "how's papa's little girl?" Shadow would respond with a whine that would last about a minute--like she hadn't seen me in forever.
I could take Shadow without a leash anywhere. She would follow every command. On a busy street she would stop when told, go when told. She would follow me to the extent that when I played tennis she would sit right by the court fence on whatever side I was on and would change sides whenever I did. When I would walk Shadow sometimes I would play hide & seek with her. I would let her get ahead then duck behind a tree. Once she realized I wasn't in site her world stopped until she found me. Her memory was incredible. Jeff was away at school sometimes for more than a year between visits. Whenever he came back she recognized him instantly and would whine with delight Another time Shadow was at work with me when a person I had dated for about a year but hadn't seen in more than 2 years came into the store. I was in the back when I heard that familiar whine of delight from Shadow.
When Shadow was young she loved to play with other dogs. She was very fast and would coax them into chasing her. When she got them going as fast as they could go she would slow down and just as they reached her she would make a "Gale Sayers" type move and they would slide right by her. The only dog I can remember being able to catch her was her mother (Sabrina) who we saw fairly frequently until Nancy & I divorced. As Shadow got older though she lost interest in most other dogs. But she developed a friendship with my neighbor's dog Maggie that lasted the rest of her life. They would play, wrestle and try to pin each other to the ground. 3 years later Maggie still wonders when Shadow's coming back--I sometimes have the same thought.
Shadow was always polite and somewhat timid around other dogs, but she took no shit from any dog who tried to get in her face. In 1999 we drove up to Virginia to spend the weekend with David Dunn, a friend I've known over 40 years but hadn't seen in a long time. He had an older dog and Shadow and he acknowledged each other and were fine. Later that weekend his sister in law came over with her dog--a young collie named Timmy. That dog was constantly in Shadow's face wanting to play but she didn't want to. She would walk away but he kept following her around like a love sick puppy. Shadow then started growling at him showing her teeth as if to say "leave me alone before I do something you'll regret." After about 3 hours of this Shadow was through being polite. The next time Timmy stuck his snout in her face she bit his nose and he jumped back hitting a table with a bunch of glass figurines. They all shook and a few fell over but none broke. After that exchange Timmy left Shadow alone.
In October, 2001 Shadow had her annual check up at the vet and everything was normal. On December 6 I came home and my neighbor left a voice mail message that she had rushed Shadow to the vet because her eyes were jaundiced. The vet decided to keep her overnight and it was too late for me to see her. That was only the second time in her life that Shadow had spent a night away from home without me or in the company of a roommate, neighbor or friend. The vet ran extensive tests and we hoped she had ingested something poisonous because that could probably be treated. However, the results came back as liver cancer and there was nothing we could do except put her on steroids and hope for a couple months.
Those 2 months were the best AND worst months I have ever experienced in my relationship with Shadow. Knowing the end was near made every moment we spent together very special. She had mostly good days for the majority of those 2 months. We fed her virtually anything she would eat because there was no long term any more--chicken, steak, baby food whatever. It was comforting that I could say good-bye over a period of time but having to face the very end was brutal. On Saturday (02/10) Shadow was feeling really bad, but when Jeff came by that afternoon she perked up and greeted him with her joyous whine. I thought we had more time but it was not to be. Calling the vet to schedule euthanasia and making arrangements to have her cremated were gut wrenching. My neighbor Jeannette drove us to the vet--I had it scheduled for the evening after everyone else was gone but after putting her on the exam table I couldn't stay--I said good-bye and left. I walked to my office, stayed there a few hours and then walked home. I didn't want to see anyone, I just missed "papa's little girl" so much. I cried. Three years later I still miss her.
I have her ashes, and hope someday (many years from now) they'll be scattered with mine. Shadow's not really gone. To quote the last line in Willie Morris' book My Dog Skip, a" part of her lies buried in my heart. I think of Shadow every day."
Monday, January 31, 2005
When & How I Will Die
Not many folks take time to record those kind of thoughts.
When: How about the first year the world celebrates February 31st?
How: In my sleep without any violent act, accident, or lingering illness. Hopefully without anyone who I currently know around since they all will have already died.
Death is an event I would not like to personally experience anytime soon.
Wanting to go a long time from now, peacefully, having out lived my brother, stepson and everyone I know over the age of 30, I often wondered if I could even just live longer than my Father and Mother. In fact that has been one of my life goals. I now have surpassed my Father. He was 56 when he died on 11/07/1962. He died from lung cancer--smoked during the years when every one did. I remember that he was more physically active than most folks--swam & played voleyball at YMCA, walked to work occasionally. I remember thinking that "smoking kills" two years before the surgeon general report officially came to the same conclusion. My Mother lived to 64 and died on 06/17/79. Could have lived longer if she cared, but she basically gave up when our father died. Emphysema killed her and that was the result of smoking.
So now I'm almost 3 years older than Father and 5 years younger than Mother. Since I've never smoked I probably won't die from lung cancer or emphysema. I've got arthritis but that's not a killer. However, as my joints have become stiffer I'm more prone to falling, and that's a risk because I've fallen pretty hard several times over the past few years. In fact my shoulder surgery resulted from an injury 2 years ago when I slipped on some wet stairs. Staistics suggest that lots of folks end up dying either because of a fall or from complications resulting from a fall.
Last weekend there was an ice storm and my stairs became treacherous. I had no de-icer, and the roads were worse than my stairs. I recently got a Ford Explorer Sport after years of driving a Honda Civic, so the thought of driving a new big ass carin a city where winter ice storms keep insurance companies and auto body shops thriving wasn't appealing. After watching news casts showing accidents all over Atlanta, I stayed inside almost all day until the ice melted. Then ventured out long enough to get some de icer because more of the same was predicted for Sunday.
I still have no idea when and how I will die, but last weekend I cheated death one more time.
When: How about the first year the world celebrates February 31st?
How: In my sleep without any violent act, accident, or lingering illness. Hopefully without anyone who I currently know around since they all will have already died.
Death is an event I would not like to personally experience anytime soon.
Wanting to go a long time from now, peacefully, having out lived my brother, stepson and everyone I know over the age of 30, I often wondered if I could even just live longer than my Father and Mother. In fact that has been one of my life goals. I now have surpassed my Father. He was 56 when he died on 11/07/1962. He died from lung cancer--smoked during the years when every one did. I remember that he was more physically active than most folks--swam & played voleyball at YMCA, walked to work occasionally. I remember thinking that "smoking kills" two years before the surgeon general report officially came to the same conclusion. My Mother lived to 64 and died on 06/17/79. Could have lived longer if she cared, but she basically gave up when our father died. Emphysema killed her and that was the result of smoking.
So now I'm almost 3 years older than Father and 5 years younger than Mother. Since I've never smoked I probably won't die from lung cancer or emphysema. I've got arthritis but that's not a killer. However, as my joints have become stiffer I'm more prone to falling, and that's a risk because I've fallen pretty hard several times over the past few years. In fact my shoulder surgery resulted from an injury 2 years ago when I slipped on some wet stairs. Staistics suggest that lots of folks end up dying either because of a fall or from complications resulting from a fall.
Last weekend there was an ice storm and my stairs became treacherous. I had no de-icer, and the roads were worse than my stairs. I recently got a Ford Explorer Sport after years of driving a Honda Civic, so the thought of driving a new big ass carin a city where winter ice storms keep insurance companies and auto body shops thriving wasn't appealing. After watching news casts showing accidents all over Atlanta, I stayed inside almost all day until the ice melted. Then ventured out long enough to get some de icer because more of the same was predicted for Sunday.
I still have no idea when and how I will die, but last weekend I cheated death one more time.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Why Now?
Johnny Carson died last Sunday. I found out early Monday morning as I walked my dog Greta and picked up the Wall Street Journal. It was my 59th birthday. If I'm Johnny Carson that could mean I've got 20 years left. I'll come back to this thought later.
Several months ago my brother Mark started a blog site called Unsolitited Opinions. I read his postings as they appear. It's an easy way to stay in touch with what he's thinking about. I really admire his writing ability on the topics he's posted. He has a column about the similarities and differences between Vietnam and Iraq that only a war vetran could write. Even if I don't agree with all his opinions I appreciate observations along with his ability to articulate and defend them.
Last year Mark also sent me copies of a journal our Mother kept from 1939 until 1948. They looked more like a series of letters to a dear friend although we haven't really figured out who it is yet. She died over 25 years ago, and the time period of her journal is from about the time she met my Father until after Mark was born. It is fascinating for me to read her thoughts and feelings as she fell in love, waited for WWII to end, got married, and had 2 children. It covers only a 9 year span of her life, but it covers a time I never really got to know. I certainly have some idea of her last 30 years, but 1939--1948, hell I wasn't even in the world until 1946.
Anyway these events combined with my own ability to articulate my thoughts, write well BUT not really share my innermost feelings with even those I should be close to led me to create my own site. I don't know how it will evolve, but it's a place to start. I named it Saddleview because I spend a lot of time on my bicycle, and a fair amount of that is by myself where lots of thoughts and feelings pass by. Hopefully it will let me express myself to anyone who might be interested.
Now back to the intro. Johnny Carson took over the Tonight Show from Jack Paar in 1962 about a month before my Father died. My parents watched the Tonight Show a lot once we got a TV. For some reason as long as Johnny was around I felt a kind of connection to my parents. Even though they were gone the Tonight Show was something they watched religiously. Carson became a TV icon and legend. I would regularly watch Carson's monolgue and a portion of the show depending upon the guests. When he left the show in 1992 he became a very private person. There's obviously a ton of stuff that will forever reamain for us to play over and over now that he's gone. Johnny Carson strikes me as a person very dedicated to his profession, but intensely private even when he was in the public eye. I think of myself as being very dedicated to my work (both as an insurance agent and a cycling coach) and I am intensely private about my deep inner self. I'll probably never leave the reams of material for public viewing that Johnny Carson did, but now I have taken a first step.
Several months ago my brother Mark started a blog site called Unsolitited Opinions. I read his postings as they appear. It's an easy way to stay in touch with what he's thinking about. I really admire his writing ability on the topics he's posted. He has a column about the similarities and differences between Vietnam and Iraq that only a war vetran could write. Even if I don't agree with all his opinions I appreciate observations along with his ability to articulate and defend them.
Last year Mark also sent me copies of a journal our Mother kept from 1939 until 1948. They looked more like a series of letters to a dear friend although we haven't really figured out who it is yet. She died over 25 years ago, and the time period of her journal is from about the time she met my Father until after Mark was born. It is fascinating for me to read her thoughts and feelings as she fell in love, waited for WWII to end, got married, and had 2 children. It covers only a 9 year span of her life, but it covers a time I never really got to know. I certainly have some idea of her last 30 years, but 1939--1948, hell I wasn't even in the world until 1946.
Anyway these events combined with my own ability to articulate my thoughts, write well BUT not really share my innermost feelings with even those I should be close to led me to create my own site. I don't know how it will evolve, but it's a place to start. I named it Saddleview because I spend a lot of time on my bicycle, and a fair amount of that is by myself where lots of thoughts and feelings pass by. Hopefully it will let me express myself to anyone who might be interested.
Now back to the intro. Johnny Carson took over the Tonight Show from Jack Paar in 1962 about a month before my Father died. My parents watched the Tonight Show a lot once we got a TV. For some reason as long as Johnny was around I felt a kind of connection to my parents. Even though they were gone the Tonight Show was something they watched religiously. Carson became a TV icon and legend. I would regularly watch Carson's monolgue and a portion of the show depending upon the guests. When he left the show in 1992 he became a very private person. There's obviously a ton of stuff that will forever reamain for us to play over and over now that he's gone. Johnny Carson strikes me as a person very dedicated to his profession, but intensely private even when he was in the public eye. I think of myself as being very dedicated to my work (both as an insurance agent and a cycling coach) and I am intensely private about my deep inner self. I'll probably never leave the reams of material for public viewing that Johnny Carson did, but now I have taken a first step.
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