Medical Care & Health Insurance

I should the last person to criticize the current state of medical care and health insurance. I've had 10 orthopedic surgeries over the past 40 years and they've all been taken care of with very little out of pocket expense on my part. I've been fortunate to have been covered by some type of insurance at a reasonable cost. For the past 8 years my health insurance premium has been paid for by my employer.

But something is very wrong with the overall system: I see a couple of issues

LOTS OF PEOPLE UNINSURED
Estimates vary but there are probably about 40 million people in America who have no medical insurance. Some of them are young folks no longer covered under their parents, others are unemployed between jobs, some are those with a serious medical problem which emerged while they were uninsured, etc. While some of these folks go without coverage for a short time, some of them remain uninsured for a long time. Unfortunately illness and accidents strike enough of this group to put a strain on the overall system and/or let people do without.

RELYING ON EMPLOYERS TO OBTAIN INSURANCE
Many Americans are covered by group plans through companies. This works for those employed by companies who offer(and sometimes subsidize plans). Insurance can become real expensive for the self employed and employees who change or leave jobs. It may not be possible to continue when a person changes jobs with a medical condition--of course no one ever changes jobs or has a medical condition--right!

RELYING ON GOVERNMENT TO SOLVE A FREE MARKET ISSUE
I believe this would be disastrous. Except for the Constitution and the interstate highway system I can't think of anything the government has done more efficiently than the free market system. Think I'm wrong--audit the post office and social security for starters. The only role government should play is offering tax incentives and designing transportation systems that provide alternatives that promote wellness, i.e. sidewalks, room for bikes on roads, etc.

MEDICAL CARE IS A PAPER, SCISSORS, STONE, GAME
Insured patients don't shop for medical services because they don't pay directly. Doctors, hospitals and other providers inflate charges because they know insurance companies with large groups will beat them down. Insurance companies have large numbers and money. Each group seems to work on their own to win without regard to other components. Uninsured patients either go without treatment and/or pass their costs onto society.


WHAT DO I RECOMMEND?
1. Create Individual Health Savings Accounts. All funds deposited are tax deductible for contributor. No limits--if an individual sets aside $1,000,000 that's fine--if they set aside $100 that's OK too. Contributions can come from anywhere, i.e. individual, friend, family, company whatever. HSAs can be established for anyone, anytime and funds can only be used for medical/health care costs. Funds in an individual account can be transferred to a designated beneficiary upon death.

2. Let existing insurance plans continue that work for groups and/or individuals.

3. Eliminate expiration date for Cobra. If someone leaves employer sponsored program they can continue coverage as long as they pay premium.

4. Push for incentives that benefit individuals, doctors, hospitals, and insurance companies. This topic warrants a separate post--stay tuned.

Rebuttal To My Brother

My brother Mark recently posted an article, Convenient Targets on his blog http://www.unsolicitedopinion.blogspot.com/ For my perspective read an earlier post of mine, Mexican Standoff. I visit Mark's site regularly because he writes well, posts often, and I respect his political savy. Even though sharing the same genes we don't think alike on many issues, but you can tell we're brothers. This article is a good illustration of our similarities and differences.

Mark expresses the opinion that corporations seek to lower costs and maximize profit without regard to social progress. I believe in a free market where every individual seeks to get the maxium return for their effort (wages) and spend the least amount possible for goods and services. When it comes down to illegal immigrants it's not corporations (big business) that hires these folks--it's the lettuce growers in Yuma who can't find an American willing to pick crops combined with other Americans who won't pay for Americans to pick lettuce when someone else will do it for a fraction of the harvest cost. It's the contractor re-roofing a house where the homeowner gets 4 bids ranging from $1,500 to $6,000. I could go one but you get the point--and certainly other factors (insurance, taxes, etc) influence this.

Mark has a valid point about the balance between profit and social progress. The issue I have is the dependency on government to measure, monitor, and deliver. I trust government about as much as Mark trusts corporations. There are lots of wealthy corporate officers (Greenburg, Welch) who have profited at others' expense, but there are plenty of politicians (Clintons, Bush) who have done the same thing in a different arena. I live in Atlanta and have watched the 40+ year neglect over our sewer system now being addressed with torn up streets and massive amounts of money changing hands under government tables. It's big business AND government seeking their self interests, and I dont trust either one. The best way to fix something like this is for citizens to become much more concerned about their local and state goverments instead of worrying so much about national politics, but I'm getting off the subject here.

Many Mexicans see more opportunity here in America. How do we change that? Mark's post doesn't offer a concrete solution. The simple answer is we annex Mexico and make it the 51st state. Save a lot of money on border security--perhaps set up toll booths and generate even more revenue. Of course Mexican politicians and corporations may not like this, but I don't care--invading and annexing Mexico is a lot less expensive than all the "social progress" we're paying for in Iraq--probably even less loss of life than when Pancho Villa tried to annex Texas. And it's a damn site closer to home.

Mark points that migration has been a key to opportunity throughout history. I agree and in a perfect world there shouldn't be any lines or barriers. One problem is there are people on this planet who want to terrorize and kill others just because. I would rather see the United States spend less resources on "illegal immigrants" and devote them to reducing the risks presented by those who want to harm us either here or from abroad.

Like Mark, I don't have a concrete answer yet. But the sooner we as a nation recognize we can't solve all the planet's issues the closer we may get to prioritizing and dealing with our own. And isn't that how a free market system is suppose to work?

Father's Day--2007

Today is father's day and my father's birthday. Last year on this date I posted a refection on him. Today I went on a bike ride. It's a ride I've done before over 3 gaps in north Georgia, but I hadn't been over these 3 since my knee replacements. As our mostly male group started we wished each other a happy father's day. I remembered it was also my father's birthday.

The ride was hard but certainly less painful with new knees. I rode alone most of the ride--couldn't follow my younger friends up the early steep hills but went off the front for a long time after they stopped to fix a flat. I thought of my father a few times during the ride. I remember thinking I never rode a bike with him even though I've ridden since I was 5. My goal was to climb Hog pen without stopping and I made it.

I checked my brother Mark's site and today he posted his reflections on our father. He did a through hike on the Appalachian Trial 5 years ago and thought about our father often. His post was from his memoirs. Today my ride crossed the AT twice and my drive to and from the ride crossed the AT twice. Funny how brothers have similar thoughts in similar places years apart.

My Dogs

My brother Mark recently posted reflections on his 15 year relationship with his dog Prince. I have posted articles about my last 2 dogs Greta & Shadow. While those 2 are the most recent relationships I've had with dogs there have been others.


As a 8 year old I wanted a dog. My father had told me about the wire haired fox terriers he had who chased rats that invaded his drug store in Shippensburg. One day I came home and found dog food in our kitchen. He had gotten a wire haired fox terrier for the family. We named her Wimpy because she loved hamburger (like the Popeye character). She was a pure bred and my father bred her so we had a litter of puppies. Watching that whole process was fascinating to me. Even when the pups were sent to a vet for sale I would ride my bike there to check on them. Wimpy though was mainly my father's dog. When he died she seemed lost. When my mother was hospitalized with a nervous breakdown Mark and I were sent to Johnstown. We were told Wimpy died, but I think she was put down while we were gone.


9 years later a girl (Sarah)I was dating convinced me I needed a dog. I told her I wanted a male wire haired fox terrier so she got me one. I named him Topper after the TV series. He was a good dog, but 6 months into his life he was killed. I felt guilty for letting him run loose but all we were doing was walking to my car--he was excited and jumped into the street right in front of a car. I buried Topper in Sarah's back yard and she immediately got me another fox terrier. I named him Bo after the song Mr Bojangles (after 20 years he still grieved). I had Bo from 1972 until 1988. He was a unusual dog--independent, never expressed pain even though surviving a raccoon fight, a run in with barbed wire, and hanging himself off a deck while on a leash. Not very affectionate though. he fell down stairs when he was about one year old and I think he was never really affectionate after that incident.


I inherited a dog when I married Pam named Loretta (after her mother). Bo and Loretta were with me about 11 years. Loretta was more affectionate than Bo. Both of them would wander whenever they got loose and not come back for hours. When I moved to Atlanta in 1982 Bo dug under the fence and was gone several days. I figured he was gone forever since he didn't have an Atlanta dog tag but some one found him and called animal control. Five years later while I was on vacation a service person left a gate open and both dogs got loose. The person house sitting found them, but a day later Loretta became sick and died at the vet's office. I later discovered another neighbor's dog was loose the same day and died--an autopsy revealed food poisoning. Apparently some one decided there were too many dogs on the loose and fed them something fatal.


In 1988 my wife Nancy wanted to get Jeff a dog. Bo was 16 years old and fading. That's when Shadow entered my life. Even though Shadow was suppose to be Jeff's dog she attached herself to me. Shadow was around almost 14 years through some pretty tough times for me. But she was my most faithful companion. See previous post Papa's Little Girl that I wrote 3 years after she was gone.


I currently have Greta, an Aussie Shepherd/Beagle mix. I got her a month after Shadow's passing. Greta has characteristics of my previous dogs. She wanders a bit like Bo and Loretta but always comes back. Fortunately she is very street smart and doesn't go into the street. She is affectionate like Shadow. However, unlike Shadow, sometimes she just won't do what I want her to do. Greta has one obsession though--she wants to chase a tennis ball forever. And once she starts chasing a particular ball that is the only one she will retrieve. Hopefully we have another 10+ years together.



During my 61 years I' ve had a dog(s) for about 42 of those years. Since my first dog I've only been dog less about 9 years (college & early business career). It would be hard to imagine not having a dog in my life. While Shadow was probably the best dog I've had so far, I grieved and mourned each one when they died. I hope I'm around long enough to mourn a few more.

My Mother's Birthday

Today's my Mother's 92nd birthday. I wish she had been around to celebrate more than the 64 she lived. So far that's 3 more than me. I was 33 when she died so I was around her twice as long as my father. It's hard for me to decide which one I was closer too--it seems like I wasn't close to either one--but that's probably me thinking about the distance I maintain with everyone.

Katherine Marcella Pie was born April 23, 1915. She grew up in a family of 9 children. From everything her siblings told me (and my own observations) she was the brightest and smartest. She kept copies of letters she wrote from 1938--1948 to a friend. I first saw them a few years ago and they are so revealing. In fact that's one reason I created this site--it reveals more of me than I would ever share in public.

Anyway she was a gifted writer, and that talent is one she passed on to me and my brother. She wrote 2 novels, she could sew and knit, but I think her most endearing quality was the love and devotion she bestowed on my father. This wasn't obvious to me at the time, but looking back things sometimes get clear. When he died in 1962 she was devastated. She suffered 2 mental breakdowns over the next year--one of which institutionalized her for about 5 months.



From then until she died it seemed to me that she just didn't care about life any more. It was painful for me to watch, not able to really help her in any way that changed things. Looking back I just gave up and moved on with my life. I've done that since in 2 marriages--not knowing how to connect then giving up and moving on. But in reflections with my brother Mark we don't seem to come up with anything we could have done to help our mother move on after the death of our father.



Looking back on her life though I think there was a 3 year period from 1963--66 where she helped Mark and I develop. That was my last year of high school and first years at college. Mark was 2 years behind me. During that time she re-obtained her nursing credentials and worked at the hospital. During those years there was enough stability and financial assistance so Mark and I could go on to college. Right after my father died I was told there wasn't enough money for either one of us to go anywhere after high school except to work. I think my mother pushed herself so we could further our education somewhere--she knew there was potential and she wanted to jump start it for both of us.



I think my mother showed us the way to get up and start flying on our own during those years. Something happened at the hospital in 1966 where she was accused of doing something incorrectly and after that she never worked again. Instead the long downward spiral started again and didn't end until she died on June 24, 1979.



So, Mother here's to you on your 94th birthday. Like I said in my fathers post on his 100th, I wish we could have celebrated more of them in person. And I also wish the two of you could have had more than 16 years of marriage.

God--Where Are You?

The massacre at Virginia Tech makes me wonder--again--is there really a God the way most religions portray him? How could an almighty being create a person who then destroys32 people who were productive members of society? Of course it's not the first time this has happened. From folks like Adolph Hitler through Charles Whitman thousands of evil or fucked up humans have destroyed others who did not deserve to die.

I cannot imagine a God in heaven (wherever) being all loving, all forgiving and almighty creating that kind of havoc. Instead I believe in the laws of nature: lots of things happen just because. People die because of illness, accidents, war, violence, etc. Over the course of history many bad ass people have done a lot of evil stuff. I've had my share of illness, I've driven and cycled thousands of miles, I've sat in class rooms, restaurants, and many other places where accidents or violent acts could have occurred. I've had my share of surgeries and accidents where something could have gone wrong and killed me.

Why have I lived 61 years while others have not? I have no idea. I don't think it's because some almighty being is "looking after me". And what will happen when I die? While it would be nice to think there's some place like heaven, I think I'll turn into dust/compost while the natural world goes on. I'm not trying to convince anyone there isn't a God; I just don't think anyone can convince me there is.

Team Alabama

IN TRIBUTE TO ALICIA JOHNSON ON THE EVE OF HER MOVE BACK TO COLORADO

On Saturday morning April 30, 2005 our TNT cycling team met in Warm Springs for a 60+ mile ride. As most of us drove south from Atlanta we had to negotiate a huge rain storm that showed no signs of stopping and the breaking early morning news that the "missing bride" had been located in New Mexico after being kidnapped by illegal aliens--I mean immigrants--I mean maybe they were legal--who cares. She turned out to be the "runaway bride" and it looks like that's as close as Alicia might get to the term bride--but forgive my digression.

We gathered at the Best Western for a 10:00 ride start, but no one--myself included wanted to start in the downpour. Since most of us had hotel reservations for that night with plans for a cookout we didn't want to call it quits. By about 12:30 a few folks who weren't planning on staying had abandoned us, but the rain had stopped and the weather was marginally OK--at least that's what I decided, and since I was the head coach the mantra was "Are you riding--or are you hiding?'

Some folks wondered about the climb from downtown Warm Springs to the Best Western because it was 1 mile long and 10% grade. I told them it was the hardest hill--maybe I said the only hill--but once that's done the ride is over. Some may say that's the closet truthful description and/or the biggest lie I've ever told about hills on a ride.

Except for the weather getting better I don't remember much about the ride, but by late afternoon all cyclists were back except Alicia, Jane, Harold and Kim. No one had seen them in quite a while. Some folks speculated they turned around and gone back to the hotel (that proved to be factual). But their rooms were empty and we could not reach them on those things they call cell phones.

The front desk attendant told us one of them called to report they had gotten lost but were on their way back to the hotel. We tried to call them to figure out exactly where they were, but couldn't reach them. To make sure they had enough fluids and food, I drove our route in reverse to find them while others went to he grocery store to get food for the cookout. I was kinda glad to be searching cause I don't like to grocery shop especially buying stuff for others. I drove about 20 miles (almost one third of the route) but didn't see them. Called the hotel and still no sign of them. I drove back to the hotel following the route positive I would find them. No such luck--so I did a "Mount Everest" to save myself since I was pretty damn hungry.

Alicia and her comrades finally showed up. Turns out they missed the second frigging turn on our route. They finally figured out they were lost when they got close the Alabama state line--like a trillion miles off course. But they didn't stop there. Despite a warning from one of the locals "GO BACK, GO BACK!" they cycled to the Alabama state line. I have a T shirt with evidence. Only then did they decide to GO BACK and it was even later before they called the hotel.

But why didn't they tell anyone where they were--or where they weren't, either on course or off course? The answer of course is because they are TEAM ALABAMA! The other speculation is they did not want to climb the hill out of Warm Springs.

Coach Neil

P.S. Recently I was riding with Pete Smith--Alicia's candy ass (surrogate boy friend). We talked about Alicia's upcoming surprise party and what appropriate memories we could put in her scrap book. Pete laughed but then said "You know out of 4.5 million people in Atlanta who could move, I'm going to miss Alicia the most."

DITTO FROM ME AND ALL YOUR ATLANTA FRIENDS.

Knee Replacement # 2

My left knee replacement went so well I decided to have my right knee done. Other reasons:

• Under my current health insurance plan I had virtually no "out of pocket costs" with my knee replacement or a shoulder surgery in 2004. Since my health insurance is through one of our insurance companies group plan who our office won't do business with much longer It made sense to "gitrdone" now instead of later.
• I saw the amounts that hospitals billed my insurance company versus what got paid. I figured neither one was real happy about the relationship. Sure enough my insurance company and the hospital/doctors are currently arguing about continuing the contract beyond July 01. My surgery is scheduled for June 26 and has been "approved" so this procedure is "covered".
• I had 2 ugly looking knee joints with both legs bowled outward. Now my replaced knee is almost normal sized and straight. So even though my right knee is not nearly as painful as the left before surgery I'm ready to replace it too.

I was suppose to donate 2 units of blood before surgery. When I went to donate the first unit my hematocrit level was 32. Normally it should be over 38, so the Red Cross took one unit, but told me that would lower my level to a point where it would not be possible to donate a second unit in time. Called doctor's office and they OKd one unit.

I prepared by cycling a century on Saturday, 25 miles on Sunday and walking 2 miles to Piedmont Hospital. The actual surgery took 87 minutes (I got that from the Doctor afterward) and I was in my room by 11:00. Just like my other joint replacements I had an epidural injection instead of general anesthesia, but this time I actually talked to the Doctor during surgery. They had put up a screen so I couldn't see my knee, and I asked if they had started--they had because I could hear the tool background noise and was aware my leg was being manipulated. I felt no pain what so ever.

Post--op pain in my knee was minimal as the epidural remained in place overnight. When Doctor Wilkes visited on Tuesday he told me the incision was longer than the last one and he cut into my quadriceps to get a large spur above my kneecap. He thought recovery would be similar to last time barring any complications. I made plans to go home on Wednesday. However, nurses/staff seemed to be taking a lot more vital signs and blood samples. They mentioned my blood levels were low and on Tuesday afternoon they gave my donated unit back. It only takes a few minutes to donate, but it takes a couple hours to return it. On Tuesday night/Wednesday morning the drainage system started to leak at my knee which slowed drainage. I was concerned because I was draining a fair volume and last time my leg swelled a lot the day after discharge and I was trying to prevent that from re occurring.

On Wednesday Doctor Wilkes removed the drainage tube and changed the bandage. We discussed my low blood counts--still way too low even after transfusion-- and he agreed to call my primary doctor (Marshall Levine) to check this out further. Fortunately this did not prevent my discharge and I was home by 11:30. I got a CPM machine and spent the the day icing and moving the joint. The technician told me not to set the machine beyond 90 degrees until the first set of staples are removed. Dr. Levine called and we set an appointment for Friday. He was concerned because of the contract dispute between Piedmont and BCBS (GA). Dr Levine called Monday to confirm my red blood count was low--everything else normal. However, since the Blue cross contract expired July 01 he could not refer me to a blood specialist. I wound up with a new primary care doctor with a referral to follow (see a future post on medical care/insurance). New doctor referred me to someone at Emory and they couldn't see me until September.

13 days post--op I still have a fair amount of swelling and discomfort. This surgery was definitely more than minimally invasive. Incision was 8 inches (left knee was 5) and the doctor had to cut my quadriceps to remove all the spurs. It was harder to do rehab and I had to leave work early to ice my leg. Therapist thinks it looks great and considering what they did he's probably right. I still thought I could get back on the road before August 01.

07/16/06 Got on a stationary bike today--one day ahead of previous knee replacement.

07/26/06 Post--op visit. Things looked good although swelling still an issue. Had to undergo an ultra sound at Emory to confirm no blood clots. That was my last visit to the surgeon. I didn't go back because I knew the knee was doing fine.

07/29/06 Back on the road again. One day sooner than last time and a few more miles. I did 27 miles in just over 2 hours. The initial 18 miles were done in 80 minutes. I felt good enough to do some more riding but as I continued cycling I had to slow down. Probably pushed it a little bit but it felt so, so good to be riding on the road again. It hurt so good!!

Blue Cross and Piedmont worked things out and I was able to return to my primary care doctor who got me to a hematologist in August. Diagnosis was anemia with no real idea why. I went on a high iron dose and scheduled a possible bone marrow biopsy in a month.

During August I continued physical therapy and did 11 road rides, most between 25--30 miles. On 08/27 I rode in north GA and went 55 miles. The first 30 were pretty easy but once I got to the last gap climb (Neels) I was tired. I limped up the 3 mile climb suffering a lot--normally this was an easy climb, but not today. It was partly my knee not being used to doubling my mileage and partly the anemia.

I continued increasing my cycling and therapy during September. When I went back to my hematologist he decided not to do the bone marrow biopsy because my counts and profile were improving. That probably meant my anemia was the result of iron deficiency because of the 2 knee surgeries. That also meant I got a little extra exercise walking 2 miles to his office since I wouldn't be able to drive after the biopsy. So I just walked back home after stopping for a huge breakfast since I had to fast.

My major recovery goal was to complete the 6 Gap Century on 09/24. I rode the back 3 gaps one week before the event and knew that while I might be able to complete 6 Gap I would pay a huge price. So I did the 3 Gap. It rained through entire ride but I felt pretty good. I was sure my anemia was disappearing because I could ride faster with less effort and do harder intervals without fading.

I continued weight lifting and riding through October. In early November the hematologist said all my counts were completely normal. The final diagnosis was anemia due to iron deficiency as the result of 2 surgeries and blood donations. I wasn't surprised because I could feel a big difference in my fitness level compared to earlier in the year.

On 11/18/06 I did El Tour de Tucson--my first century after the second knee replacement. It was almost effortless. I rode with team mates and helped pull several pace lines and individuals during the ride. The only mishap was a flat tire at mile 90. I've participated in this event 7 times but always as a coach helping and looking after my team. Someday I want to do this ride on my own to see how well I could do.

So 2006 (my 60th) was a good year. Back in 2005 I had planned to achieve some mile stone like 60 centuries, 6 or maybe 10 six gap centuries, etc. I wound up with only 4 centuries in 2006. But I have 2 new knees, improved range of motion, straight legs and no health issues that I'm aware of. I'll settle for that and plan some goals for future years. One goal is no more orthopedic surgeries--10 in one life time is already way too many!

Back to the Future--Marriage

Like anyone who's lived 60 years I've had my share of success and failure. One area where I failed consistently was marriage. Here's my perspective on how I screwed up. As a "boomer" I hit my sexual stride in the 1960's (after birth control--way before Aids). I was like a kid in a candy store with a free pass--unlimited opportunities--no reason to make any commitment. So I dated lots of girls/women never feeling any reason to settle down--there were too many choices. I probably dated several potential mates that would have been a better choice than the 2 women I did marry. By better choice I mean someone I could have stayed connected to for a life time.

I met my first wife in 1973 at a company softball game. Her name was/is Pam Riccio and the night I met her I ended up in bed with somebody else. That's how the relationships were for me--connect with someone, get a phone number, disconnect, wind up with someone else, follow up, date 2, 3, 4 people, be non-committal, lose them, find others, etc etc. I was also not any good at breaking up--once things got tense I would just distance myself until she/they disappeared.

I dated Pam and several other women almost 3 years. Then I was transferred to Los Angeles in 1976. I cared deeply about Pam, but I wanted to live the LA experience. The LA experience for me was going there on a business trip a few years before and getting laid by 3 different women in 5 days. So I moved to LA and found almost every woman I dated was sexually available but pretty shallow compared to Pam and others I had dated.

I invited Pam to visit me in California, things went well, and I proposed. Pam was athletic, loved the same activities I did and seemed ready to start a life with me. But once the honeymoon was over, she encountered job problems, missed NJ, etc. I did my best to reach out, but I was the typical guy--tell me what the problem is and I'll tell you how to fix it--without realizing she didn't want me to solve the problem--she wanted me to "listen". We moved to Connecticut in 1978 because she wanted to be closer to her family--and it was a good promotion for me, but once there all she talked about was how much she missed California. Sex between us just disappeared (both of us wound up getting it through affairs) but we hung together until 1981 when she moved back to California for a job. The reality was she was attracted to someone out there and I had an affair going so it was fairly easy to get divorced. Just like my previous relationships.

My second wife was an affair I started in Connecticut as Pam was leaving. Back then I prided myself as a person who didn't make the same mistake twice. But I got involved with someone who had the same qualities as Pam. We got married and managed to last 7 years but it was the the same thing all over again. Only difference was this time I was completely faithful while she had multiple affairs. Bottom line for me was I married almost the exact same personality twice--and reacted the same way when issues arose. I tried a lot harder to keep the marriage together during those issues, but finally decided she wasn't worth the effort.

So I've been divorced over 16 years. I've had no contact with my second wife, but talk to Pam a few times a year. We both admit we didn't give our relationship a full effort. If I could turn back the clock I would have worked much harder to preserve that marriage--after all it was the first time I pledged "until death us due part". But I doubt that Pam or anyone could tolerate me. I'm a hard person for any woman to get super close to--I have lots of friends, but still wonder if I can ever forge a long term relationship with a woman.

The other day I called Pam. We had exchanged messages a few times but had not talked in a while. That day (November 28) would have been our 30th wedding anniversary. We have become comrades over the phone, but right now we both seem too caught up in doing what we each want or have to do in our own lives to have much of a chance to really connect with anyone on a long term relationship.

Iraq--Updated Opinion

Over a year ago I offered my opinion on Iraq and referenced an article in the Wall Street Journal. Now the quagmire seems deeper than ever. When I re-read last year's article it sounds very rah-rah and too optimistic.

We still haven't done what I believe we should have done last year--set clear objectives and
benchmarks, and get out of there. I'm unhappy that our leaders are still struggling with this. I'm not an expert--but here are my observations:

1. Our leaders wrestle with the same issue that existed 3 years ago: How does a western culture understand how all the sub cultures over there think compared to us? The more we try to instill a democracy, the more resentment we create towards America
2. Our leaders comprare the war against terrorists to enemies we faced WW I & II. Terrorists are splintered--many times divided among themselves so they are not an evil empire or the axis. They are cells which need to be dealt with on a micro basis, not a macro basis. We should deal with terrorists like Israel did at those involved in the Munich Olympics. Most every one who masterminded Munich were dead 1 year after the attack. Look how long it's taken us to respond to attacks against us.
3. So far we've spent $600 billion in Iraq. That's $20,000 for every person in Iraq. What might have happened if we handed every Iraq citizen half that amount? We probably could have turned Saddam into a westerner for a lot less. What's the per capita cost for each American? Answer: $2,000/person. And not measurable to the families of the 3,000 who have given the ultimate sacrafice. What would have happened if we offered $10 million to each US citizen willing to go and stay until there was stabilility? We could have sent a lot more people and still have money to back them up. Any way you look at it, war is more efficient if the folks waging it are motivated.
4. Military action to resolve issues like the ones we face in Iraq almost never the right answer. Military action works when someone threatens our boundaries. Pearl Harbor is a prime example--but look at how many lives were sacraficed to acheive victory.
5. We need strategies that turn over authority to local governments officials then withdraw--at least military wise. We can't eliminate terrorists by occupying the middle east, and neither can we control or protect our perceived dependence on their oil.

Shane/Connections

Today Jack Palance died. He played a gun fighter in the movie Shane. Palance was the last surviving actor from that movie. Shane is one of my favorites for many reasons: cinematography, plot, etc. But my fondest memory was going to see this movie with my father. He took me to many movies in the 1950's, Ben Hur, The 10 Commandments, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Giant, and others. It was one of those rituals I thoroughly enjoyed.

But of all the movies I went to with my father, Shane stuck with me. Almost anytime I see it's on TV I watch whenever possible. I can outline the plot and scenes from memory. My father died in 1962. Then the actors from the movie began departing: Alan Ladd in 1964, Van Heflin in 1971, Brandon de Wilde in 1972, Jean Arthur in 1991 and director George Stevens in 1975, over the years everyone except Jack Palance. As long as he was around I felt a connection to my past, and my father. So another connection is gone.

But at least one more remains. During a recent visit with my cousin Chris and brother Mark, I discovered that a first cousin of my father lives in Enterprise Al. Her name is Isabel Byers and she lived with my father and grand parents for 10 years (1918-1928). Since I know virtually nothing about that period of my father's (and grand parent's) lives I need to visit with her. Since she is only 230 miles away and is 92 I'd better not wait too long.

The Anti-Incumbent Vote

I just voted and for the first time ever I did not vote for a single incumbent. I spent extra time writing my name in for every position held by an incumbent running unopposed--and there were a lot on my ballot. In races where there were choices I usually voted libertarian if there was one. Otherwise my attitude is "it's time for a change!"

Why not run for elected office myself? Political campaigning is a nasty, expensive negative campaign. The only thing worse would be dealing with the political machinations dealing making earmarking and pork barreling that goes on between elected officials. Besides I want less government in my life, not more.

But I resolve to spend even more time focused on what my local elected officials are doing on a day-today-basis, because that's where most of us fall down as citizens. We worry about and debate the big picture--which we can't do much to change--and don't spend enough time following the local things that affect us.

Last week I discovered the city of Atlanta had embarked on a "traffic calming" project on 3 roads in the Garden Hills area. This is an expensive construction project to slow down speeding cars, but it accomplishes this in part by taking away space for cyclists. It happened because the residents were focused and insistent along with the fact no one else paid any attention.

Citizens can have an effect on things like this only if they remain vigilant about local government.

09/11--My Perspective

Today's the 5th anniversary of 09/11. Certainly a monumental date in American history but maybe not the most tragic. America lost over 618,000 during the Civil War. 418,000 during WW II including 2500 on 12/07/1941. Vietnam, WW I, Korea and other conflicts have taken their toll. We lose 40--45,000 every year in auto accidents. What differentiates 09/11 is it happened in the space of a few hours on American soil, involved Americans who were simply going about normal activities, and was extensively covered as it unfolded.

What does 09/11 mean to me? It means life is uncertain. I will die someday. I could die any day. I could die riding my bike, crossing the street, from cancer or as someone once said "being a health nut lying in bed, dying of nothing". I hope it's not anytime soon. I spend more time making each and every day a quality day for me (and the people I interact with). As the World Trade Center buildings were constructed I was in the subway below them 5 days a week. I probably was in one of the towers visiting clients or friends 50 times. All of those happened before the age of terrorism. But shit happens all the time, everyday, to everyone. I've been in the insurance business my entire adult life. Insurance is about managing risk by transferring the uncertainty of loss to someone else for a price. When it comes to terrorism there is really nothing an individual can do to manage the risk they face. And no matter what our government and military do a Pearl Harbor, 09/11 or another terrorist attack will probably happen again.

So you know what? 09/11/01 is a day when a lot of people who didn't deserve to die did. And that's like most any other day.

Tour de France

I spent 3 weeks in July glued to coverage of this event. I've followed the tour for the last 20 years since an American (Greg Lemond) won the tour for the first time. Lance Armstrong's dominance, the internet, and OLN TV have made it much easier to follow the race. This year was special because there was no clear favorite, daily coverage really showed a lot of different tactics and strategy employed by teams and individual riders, and the outcome remained in doubt until the end.

I was hoping Floyd Landis would win. He's a talented cyclist with a great work ethic, and he's racing at a world class level while facing a hip replacement. I never had the talent of Floyd at any point in my life, but I do know what it's like to ride (and live) with a degenerative joint. In fact I have a lot more experience with that than Floyd or most active recreational athletes. So I about died when Floyd cracked in Stage 16 and was overjoyed when he came back so strong the very next day. I compared Floyd's x rays to my own and was preparing to write about the similarities and differences between Floyd's condition and my own--along with our mutual lifelong absolute love of cycling

This week the shit hit the fan when the "A" sample test administered after Stage 17 showed an unusually high level of testosterone. I had several reactions:

• Anyone who pulled off the ride Floyd did when the whole peleton knew that was his plan has to have a lot of testosterone.
• Why testosterone? It doesn't do that much to boost a cyclist's immediate performance and is easily detectable in drug screens.
• Does a certain testosterone level mean automatic disqualification or are there explanations for a spike like this? Surely it's a spike since Floyd was tested 6 other times during the tour and numerous times throughout 2006 without any consequences.
• Why can cycling officials announce "A" sample results and immediately suspend a rider without corroborating evidence from the "B" sample? Answer here is simple--it's Europe, not America.
• Floyd's press conference today sounded like Tyler Hamilton's rhetoric after he was suspended. I wanted to believe Tyler but the final evidence vs his defense was overwhelming (in my opinion). I hope Floyd's situation turns out different cause I really, really want to believe he won because he was the best cyclist.
• Compared to other sports cycling seems to be doing more to prevent illegal drugs. Given that why would Floyd risk it--stage winners are always tested that day and the only way he could claw his way back into contention was to win that day by as much time as possible

Strange developments so we'll have to wait and watch.

Knee Replacement

After 40+ years of living with an arthritis left knee I will have replacement surgery on 11/28/05. I thought it would be therapeutic for me--and educational for others--to keep a journal. I've had 8 prior orthopedic surgeries and most of them have not gone completely according to plan. That's the main reason I have put this particular surgery off as long as possible.

Background
I first injured my knee in September, 1963 during football practice while living in Johnstown. I was on the punting team with outside left responsibility. The player returning the punt came towards my side of the field and I had a clear shot at tackling him because I had out run Gary Peeler (our starting quarterback) who was responsible for blocking me to the center of the field. He clipped me from behind and it was the most pain I had ever experienced in my life (at the time). Although I tried to keep playing over the next few weeks my knee kept locking up and swelling like a grape fruit. As I returned home to Danville I was facing surgery to repair a torn meniscus on 11/22/63 (day JFK assassinated). Despite rehab efforts my knee never completely recovered and over the next 6 years it kept flaring up. It did get me a draft deferment (1-Y) but in 1969 a NYC doctor in suggested another operation to "clean out debris". That was the accepted medical procedure; in retrospect it was a bad choice. The more times you operate and open up a joint the better chance for arthritis to occur. I remember the surgeon's negative comments after surgery; with the Vietnam War raging and a temporary physical deferment I asked about my chances of being drafted. His reply: "If the Russians attack NYC you may be drafted to collect tolls on the Triboro Bridge".

Over the next 13 years I had 4 more surgeries (right knee, 2 operations on big right toe, and a tendon transfer on left ring finger). All of them had complications and after the finger surgery I vowed my next surgery would be an autopsy. I kept that promise for almost 20 years but a degenerative left hip wore me down and I had it replaced in 2000. That operation compared to all the others was successful in that it relieved intense pain and let me resume life except for tennis and running. I asked the doctor about knee replacement but his recommendation was the pain wasn't bad enough yet.

In November 2002 I slipped on some wet stairs and injured my right shoulder. Nothing broken or separated so I lived with discomfort until an MRI revealed rotator cuff damage. I had that operated on in November, 2004 and like many of my other surgeries it didn't go completely the way I expected. It took a year to rehab that shoulder. The most positive aspect of my shoulder surgery is I am more adept using my left arm for throwing.

Decision Time
The bottom line as far as my left knee was concerned: as long as I could cycle I really didn't consider replacement surgery. Things started to change earlier in 2005. During century rides in Tahoe and Cartersville I experienced a lot of pain and swelling after about 60--70 miles. If I stopped riding for even a few minutes it was very hard to bend my knee enough to turn the pedals. I went to the doctor who had repaired my shoulder and he confirmed the only alternative was replacement or live with it. I decided to see how training went the rest of the season. My knee wasn't too bad at the Covington century in August. On Sunday September 18 I was riding and did a series of hard intervals. As I finished the last one I felt a sharp pain in my knee and had to ride very slowly the rest of the ride. Most of the time whatever pain I experienced subsided within a day or two. This time was different. Everytime I tried to ride it felt like stones were in my joint and then marked with an ice pick.

On September 23 I got a cortisone injection and scheduled surgery for November 28, the week after Tour de Tucson. Between then and November 1, managed to ride about 20 times never more than 25 miles. The cortisone didn't work and I was suppose to ride and coach 25 cyclists through a 111 mile Tour de Tucson. On November 5 I borrowed a hand cycle to use during a group training ride. I quickly realized that compared to legs, using the smaller muscles of the arms requires a lot of training time which I don't have. I could not ride fast enough to keep up especially on hills. The next day I rode 30 miles on my regular bike and while my knee stiffened up afterwards the ride wasn't as painful as previous rides.

11/08/05
Pre-op physical starting at Dr Wilkes office followed by a visit to Piedmont hospital. Doctor impressed by slow heart beat & lungs. I asked him when he thought I could ride a bike on the road. He said 8 weeks as long I was prepared to go slow. I told him that 8 weeks is right around my 60th birthday and I'm determined to achieve that goal.

11/09/05
I elected to donate my own blood so today was the deposit of unit 1. I get called constantly to donate blood because I have B+ and the Red Cross is across the street from my office. When you donate blood for your own surgery, if you don't need it, the blood can not be given to anyone else. It appears that's because they don't ask the litany of questions they do when blood is donated for the general population. Based on my experience it seems like some blood units go to waste when not needed during the surgical process. Wonder what could be done to change that?

11/14/05
Another weekend with no cycling except to teach an effective cycling class for Atlanta Bicycle Campaign (about 6 miles total). Today I donated my second unit of blood. I raised the question about giving un-used blood back for general donation. The answer was a bunch of jibberish, and does revolve around the fact they don't do the same tests or ask all the questions they do when the donation is for the general population. If the blood shortage is as advertised, the Red Cross should figure out a procedure for using this blood if I don't need it.

11/17--20 Tour de Tucson
As I left for Tucson my knee felt very stiff and wouldn't bend beyond about 80 degrees. Not the kind of flexibility needed to cycle 109 miles. However, when we picked up bikes at the convention center Thursday afternoon I rode the 2 miles back to the hotel without much pain or trouble. I debated with myself whether to start with the team and ride as far as I could or drive the course and then ride the final miles with them. I decided to start since that's the only way I could ride with everyone for a while.

The race started promptly at 7:00 am and we were across the line within 3 minutes. I cruised to the first river crossing at about 17 mph without any problem--knee felt OK. After the crossing I formed a pace line with 4 team mates. We were rolling along fine and after a pull I dropped to the back of the line. Within minutes I felt a dull pain which quickly got razor sharp. I slowed down and watched the pace line roll away. I tried riding about 3 more miles but knew the ride was over for me. I hitched a ride with a team mate's wife and mother-in-law and got to the 54 and 104 mile marks to cheer the team. I was happy everyone finished safely, but I was ready to check into the hospital that day to get the surgery over with.

11/27/05
I had planned a bike ride today and invited folks to join me. As I drove to the start it was chilly and drizzly. Even though my bike was pristinely clean I was looking forward to riding. About 6 other folks showed up wondering if we were actually going to ride in what looked like deteriorating conditions. I had no doubt, got everything ready and got on my bike to warm up in the parking lot--as I turned the left crank and straightened my knee it felt like I had been shot. Then the shock of not being able to turn the crank swept over me like a huge wave. I couldn't believe how painfully impossible it felt to bend--and then straighten my knee. The ride was over after 2 laps around the lot. My friends were glad because it meant we could go somewhere warm and eat lunch. I on the other hand wanted desperately to ride since it could be months before I could ride again.

Why did that happen? The only explanation I can think of was I had gone off all medication 5 days before in anticipation of surgery. Without meds to mask the pain it manifested itself and yanked me off the bike. We did go eat but since I was off alcohol as well it didn't taste as good as it would have otherwise. I was very moved by the folks who came out especially since they all said, "We didn't come to ride, we came to see and support you."

11/28/05 Surgery Day
I left my house at 5:00 am and walked 2 miles to Piedmont Hospital. It was actually a better exercise experience than cycling to the hospital because walking that fairly short distance allowed me reflect on what was going to happen. I did not have to inconvenience anyone to pick up my bike. Also the roads were damp which meant I won't have to clean my bike. Pre-op goes exactly as outlined in all the pamphlets except they "shave" my knee area even though I had already shaved the entire leg and they insert an IV in my left wrist without shaving a single hair. They never put the IV in the same place and they never "pre-shave" wherever it's placed.

Promptly at 7:30 I'm rolled into the OR; the next thing I know it's 9:45 and I'm being rolled out of OR following surgery. So my initial goal is achieved--I wake up. I doze off and wake up in the recovery room at 9:55. When asked how I feel, I reply, "I'm ready to go to my room". That doesn't happen until 11:00 probably because my room isn't ready for check in. I phoned my office and a few friends around 11:30, Don Schaet and Stephanie Thomas dropped by but despite my "I feel good" exterior demeanor I was still pretty out of sorts. Tried to read but could not concentrate, always felt like I had to urinate, but with 3 tubes in different body parts I couldn't get out of bed very easily. I was glad one of them was not a catheter, so I made extensive use of the bed side urinal.

11/29/05
I did get out of bed yesterday because I got out of bed the same day with hip replacement. Physical Therapist came by this morning and she was barely out of school. Besides very basic exercises in bed and the continuous passive movement machine (CPM) her plan was to have me walk to the hall and back--my idea was a lap around the ward. When I suggested we try stairs she looked pretty overwhelmed and suggested we wait until tomorrow (when another therapist would be coming).

11/30/05
Discharge day--I hope. Dr Wilkes came by and said I could go home as long as the therapist OKed it. I confirmed that he did not have to see me again and he said if the therapist passes me the nurse will call his office and he would discharge me over the phone. With that incentive in place I made sure I would perform well enough. I did and they let me go. The most painful moment was when they took out the IV on my unshaven wrist. It also bled profusely because of the blood thinners. By the time I got home I was whipped and the rest of the day was mostly nap time.

I did the rehab exercises faithfully. Left knee felt weak but I had no arthritic pain. My right knee seemed more painful than my left as I did the same exercises on both knees. Sometimes while walking and climbing stairs my right knee felt worse and more unstable than my left.

12/11/05
Today's PT session was hard. I had to pull my knee back as far as I could then he would push about 5 degrees further and hold it for 30 seconds. Then I had to attempt to straighten it while he held it in the bent position. later this morning a nurse came by and removed the remaining staples (had more seepage than before). Knee felt good during the day but swelled in the evening.

12/14/05
PT this morning was also hard. We pushed knee to 110 degrees. During the day it got very stiff and I could hardly bend it or walk with a normal gait.

12/16/05
During the night I had lots of pain mainly in my right knee. Felt extremely stiff all over. Took a pain pill for first time in a long time. Result: slight pain relief and instant constipation.

12/19/05
Back on a bike!! 2 sets of 10 minutes on stationary recumbent bike. Knee stiff but worked. Pain level about 0.5 on scale of 1--10. Enough said.

01/01/06
Today I rode my bike on the road 20 miles. Started at Silk Sheets route with a few riders planning on a 50 mile ride. They pulled me to the 8 mile mark and I told them to go on as I needed to limit my ride. Hit the 10 mile mark and thought about doing a slightly longer route but decided not to. Good thing because at the 15 mile mark my knee and body started telling me 20 was going to be enough. But it was great to be back on the road!!

During January I road 11 times for a total of about 175 miles. For some reason I didn't log February March results. April and May I rode about 15 times each month and logged almost 70 hours and nearly 900 miles. I had no arthritic pain in my replaced knee, but I seemed to run out of energy fairly quickly whenever I tried intervals and/or other hard riding.

I was invited to take a stress test by a company who wanted me to market their test to riders I coach. I took the test on March 13 . Initial test results measuring VO2 max, power, anaerobic thresh hold etc seemed fine. Afew days later their cardiologist called and said I needed to see a cardiologist as the EKG showed signs of ischemia, a lessening of blood supply to heart muscles under intense exercise. Dr. Levine (my primary care doctor) thought it was a false positive, but since it needed to be checked out I took a thallium nuclear stress test on March 31. Results according to Dr. Levine were "completely normal" and showed no blockages whatsoever.

06/04/06
I did the Tahoe century with my team. It's my first century since last August. I felt good, primarll
y supported my team and didn't push too hard. Time on the bike was 8 hours.

The following week I did another century in North Carolina and on June 24 did the Cartersville century. Both times around 7.5 hours--not great but pretty good considering how quickly I came back from the surgery.

Now it's time to move on to knee replacement #2!!

My Father's Birthday

Today would be my father's 100th birthday. He probably would not be alive since none of my relatives have made the century mark yet. Unfortunately he died in 1962 at the age of 56--nearly 44 years ago. If he had not smoked, I'm pretty sure he would have lived longer. His father and mother lived to 77 and 83, and his sister lived into her early 90's.

I've mentioned him in earlier posts. I only lived with him 16 years which is about 25% of my life. He was always an adult while I was only a child. I wish I could have known him after I grew up. He was a loner--friendly to everyone but never seemed too close to anyone. My aunt (Peg) described him as somewhat of a stuffed shirt. I remember that he had very few arguments with my mother. The only one I recall was when one he bought a set of encyclopedias without consulting her. I suspect they had others since my father was Presbyterian and my mother was Catholic, and she insisted that my brother and I be raised Catholic and go to Catholic school. He felt the public schools in Danville were more established, but if they argued over this or anything else I never saw it.

He came into the world as cars and planes were evolving. He was a pharmacist back in the days when they mixed compounds to fill prescriptions. I don't think he ever made over $10,000 a year, and often told me that his role as a druggist had changed during his career. He spent more time managing a retail operation instead of being a pharmacist. He died before computers and ipods became the norm. In fact air conditioning wasn't that wide spread. Today pharmacists are one of the hottest and best paying jobs in America.

His name was Frank Byerly Fleming, Jr. He was born and raised in Shippensburg, PA. He lived in a residence above the family drug store, graduated from Philadelphia College of Pharmacy & Science, and joined his father in the family business. He met my mother as he went overseas during WW II, and married her upon his return. In looking back over his family records it looks like the Flemings were staunch Presbyterians. He never went to church and would dismiss it by saying he was a "northern Presbyterian".

The family drug store had been sold during the war so he went to work for Peoples Drug Stores. We wound up in Danville, VA where he spent the rest of his life. In an earlier post I mentioned the one on one talks we frequently had after dinner in his bed room. My other favorite memory with him was going swimming at Luna Lake and later Glen Oaks Country Club. He was fairly active, walking to work sometimes, swimming and playing volleyball at the YMCA. Like most adults of his generation he smoked (unfiltered Camels). I remember he opened each pack by slicing it down the middle of one side with his fingernail. I also remember he could wrap a package tighter and more professionally than any gift wrapper in a department store.

I also remember he died from lung cancer over a 6 month time period without ever really saying goodbye. The last time I saw him in the hospital, his final words were "Just give me some more prendisone and I'll be fine." Spoken like a true pharmacist who never really let anyone get too close. He did have a profound effect on my mother. From the journal she kept from 1938--48 it's obvious she adored him despite whatever faults he had. She never really recovered from his death, so her many talents atrophied over time.

So how am I like him--how am I different? I am not very religious despite being raised a Catholic. Perhaps we both got too much religion in our youth. He was an honest, hard working man of morals. He had lots of friends but never seemed really attached to anyone except my mother. He did not have a temper which I seem to have (from my mother's side no doubt), although I am much better at controlling it than I used to be. He was handy with tools and could figure things out especially anything that interested him. He obviously had a talent for chemistry which was an absolute mystery for me--and the main reason I never became a pharmacist or doctor.

"Happy Birthday, Father (I never called him Dad). Thanks for bringing me into the world and getting me started on the journey of life. I just wish you could have spent more of it with me."

Mexican Standoff

Lots of discussion these days about immigration and compromise. Today my dog Greta & I performed our own version. Greta gets focused on chasing a tennis ball. We play this game every day. I throw the ball, she brings it back and drops it at my feet. A while ago I was sitting at the top of my stairs and Greta was standing at the bottom with the ball. She kept dropping the ball and barking at me to come down and throw it again. I kept imploring her to bring the ball up the stairs. We both wanted the game to continue but neither one would give in.

We don't want illegal immigration but we want and need cheap labor. Mexicans see economic opportunities here but many can't get here legally. So we sit on opposite sides barking at each other without compromise or resolution.

The game has been going on for years. I personally don't understand the big concern about illegal immigration. It happens, it will continue no matter what we do. Some of them will live underground, some of them will assimilate themselves into our culture. Virtually none of them will blow up chemical facilities, pilot planes into buildings, or commit any terrorist acts. It just isn't that big a deal.

So Greta, why won't you bring the ball up the stairs?

Iraq--Are We Winning?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.