Friends

Thanks for the suggestions for future posts. I will certainly blog about my trip to Bahrain when it happens. I am working on posts about Germany and Crete, still trying to keep them at least to novella length.

However, I do have a question somewhat related to the his & hers post that I want to pose. I'm looking for your experiences and/or opinions about "mixed" friendships, especially when the friend is married.

I met "Lisa*" soon after she came to work. She and I hit it off immediately. We were both programmers sitting in cubes in the same area and would frequently start the workday having a cup of coffee in one or the other's cubicle. There wasn't much that we couldn't talk about to each other. Lisa would unload on me about her husband's ex-wife and how she would use the step-children jerk her husband's strings, or just about disagreements she would have with him, (and so you don't think all she did was complain to me) about their vacation plans, her career aspirations, her son, etc., etc., etc. I felt comfortable telling her about things of a similarly personal nature about myself too. When Lisa had surgery, I visited her at home bringing movies & books to occupy her during her convalescence.

However, after about a year things started to cool off. We met less and less often - although the conversations, while less frequent, remained as personal as they had been. I wondered if maybe I had done something to offend her, or maybe she came to feel that I wasn't as good a friend as she needed. Lisa had told me early on that she made friends much more easily with men, but I noticed that she started spending more and more time with the women in the office, going to lunch, etc. I asked her about this, and was told that nothing had changed, she still thought of me as a close, valued friend. About this time she started talking more and more about her religious beliefs and how much the church meant to her. Her opinions about topics we discussed became more conservative.

One day we had lunch and I related all of this to her, that I felt we had lost some of the closeness of our friendship. The conversation wandered around but the gist is that she felt that, both in terms of her marriage and her religious beliefs, we could not be close friends. It was inappropriate for a woman to be close to a man that wasn't her husband. And that is the way things remain today.

I miss her friendship. While we have a very comfortable working relationship we are merely casual friends. We still work in the same office. Lisa and I don't have very many one-on-one talks anymore, excepting that when she's angry at her boss Lisa will still come into my office and rant.

I am fully aware that my take on this could be totally off base, that we just drifted apart and that I am not what she wants or needs in a friend, that the reasons she gave were merely to save my feelings. I am also aware that people do change, that friendships dissolve over time. This could be the case, and I can accept that. I have in any case accepted that our close friendship is gone.

What bothers me are the reasons she gave. If she told me the truth, it really bothers me that she has come to believe that men and women cannot have a close PLATONIC relationship exclusive of marriage. I know that people think, given our baser natures, it can be difficult to believe from either perspective that the other isn't thinking about or wanting to have sex. Speaking for myself, I made a promise of monogamy when I got married that I have kept and will keep. I would not become romantically involved with anyone else unless our marriage had ended. I expect this behavior in anyone who is married. I do not assume that a woman I am friends with is interested in me in a romantic way. In other words, my having a close female friend has no impact at all on my relationship with my wife. I love my wife no less, nor does it interfere with my marital commitment to her.

Do any of you have any experiences to share like this? What are your opinions - can a married man or woman have a close friend of the opposite sex? Do your religious beliefs have a bearing on this, or am I just running into conservative social standards? True friends are so hard to find. Friendship should not be squandered because of some perceived social prohibition.

*not her real name

Friday Miscellany

Greetings from the hermitage. Not THE Hermitage but merely my self-imposed monk's cell. I guess my last post drained me of anything I had to say. That, and I've been really busy. I went on a business trip this week(shades of Meno's post), had no internet access at the hotel and had little time for it at the plants I visited.

I really don't have anything of consequence to share. I could discuss the details of the project I was traveling for, but somehow I don't think any of you are interested in how I'm going to add RF scanning capabilities to the receiving, staging, issuing and cycle-counting procedures in my system. No? Thought so. We could also talk about the other project I'm working on - adding the capability for the system to work with currencies other than U.S., and to be able to specify a different currency for each purchase order while maintaining inventory in the host country's currency. The last project is to get me ready to go to Bahrain sometime around April or May. No? Thought not.

Well, what else is going on? I'm watching Mythbusters with the kids. We make fun of the stupid stuff (trying to get a crocodile to chase a quail-festooned robot) and cheer on the explosions (replicating the flammable skin on the Hindenberg). Kris has been spending more weekends at home, I think she learned a lesson last semester about getting involved in too many things causing her grades to suffer a bit.

Boring stuff, I know. Maybe I'll find another meme, easy blog fodder. I'll work on something else to stir everyone up soon. Any ideas?

Have a good weekend!

His & Hers

**This post was renamed. The original was CRAP**

The majority of the blogs I read are written by women. Mostly it is because the few blogs I started reading were written by women, primarily read by women, and so when I followed links to other blogs ipso, facto they were written by women too. It is also by preference that I do so, I have always felt I had more emotionally in common with women than men. I have always had more female friends than men. In these blogs written by women, aside from the self-identified mommy bloggers who use their blogs primarily to discuss issues directly related to child rearing, my observation is that most content is gender specific. Or at least I read it that way. Relationships, parenting, observations and experiences in the world around us are common topics in these blogs. I don't think these experiences are gender specific, but they are commonly couched in terms that are. Exhortations to moms everywhere, sisters unite, etc. are things I see frequently. Jen recently wrote about coming to terms with being a mother recently. Why didn't she refer to herself as a parent? She didn't discuss pregnancy or birth - which is something only a mother can do - she talked about the conflict between how she sees herself and what she perceived as how she should perceive herself as a mom. I went through a huge change when our 1st child was born. Every parent does. While Jen didn't explicitly exclude fathers in her discussion about her feelings, there is an implicit exclusion through the use of mother/mom. Meno wrote recently about feeling lonely when her husband was out of town and went on to preface a question with this statement: "I am thinking about all of you woman who are alone through divorce." I immediately wondered if she assumed it was only the women in these dissolving marriages that were lonely. There are a whole chain of gender-based assumptions I could infer from that statement. Divorces are initiated by men who are moving on to new relationships, leaving women behind. Therefore women and not men are lonely during the break-up. That she isn't interested in whether men are lonely during divorce. Why wasn't her thoughts of a more general nature - i.e. "I am thinking of all of you out there who are alone through divorce." I know neither Jen nor Meno are specifically excluding half of the potential readers out here. I also know that by far the majority of their actual readers are female, so why not address the known audience? I ask, why not address everyone?

I think the answer to my questions are fairly obvious. People primarily identify themselves by their gender. Society does. But it is a catch-22 situation. Society always will if people continue to do so. Society identifies me first as a woman, so I identify myself to society as a woman, etc, etc, etc. For most of my life I have formed closer relationships with women than I do men. I have more relationships with women than I do men. I've been reading blogs for 3-4 years now and still 90%+ of the blogs I read regularly are written by women. So I can't, and don't, complain when the posts are about PMS, or pap smears, or giving birth. I made a choice to read these blogs and I learn a lot about how women deal with these things. I also learn a lot of how women are treated by society. I am by definition an outsider when it comes to these things and I accept that I cannot be anything else. But what really troubles me is that there are a lot of topics discussed as female that really apply to both genders. I am a parent. I don't see the role of dad as being separate and distinct from the role of mother - after the pregnancy and birth phase, anyway. I don't see the role of husband as being separate and distinct from the role of wife. Period. It bothers me that I feel I am excluded from conversations about parenting and marriage because the blogs I read express the experience in gender specific terms of mom and wife. I do not live in a bubble, I do know that our society DOES assign roles in terms of gender in these relationships. But as I said above, society always will if we continue to take on these gender-based roles.

I also realize that I live in a male dominated society, one where for the past 320 years every law has been written by and for men. I am white, male, and heterosexual. I am in every societal sense of the phrase "the man". So for me to complain about feeling excluded could easily be written off as being a whiner in these forums where women dominate. However - I think that we will always have gender inequalities if we continue to primarily identify ourselves by gender. I am not a dad, I am a parent. I am not a husband, I am a spouse.

I know that neither of these two lovely people whom I have picked on here are specifically excluding me. Jen has explicitly said that she is not doing so - at least twice that I remember. I hope that neither of them are offended at what I have said here, I am merely using them as examples to explain a greater problem that I see around me. We can only begin to resolve our differences if we choose to cease to have them.

Friday Miscellany

The last few days I've been in a funk. Tonight Laura and I had a "get-the-hell-out-of-the-house-we-need-a-break" night. We tried Red Robin for the first time (great burgers, lousy prices) and went to a movie. We saw the new (well, new to me) James Bond - Casino Royale. (we don't get out to the movies very often). It was enjoyable, if predictable. I'm feeling better.

A few days ago we were on the way out the door, going somewhere or another, and Laura asked me to hold on for a sec, she had to visit the restroom. more than a few secs pass by and she FINALLY comes out. I ask what took so long and she responds "I had a heck of a time getting the cat out of my pants."

This past monday we were going to bed, settiing in for the night, and one of the cats jumped up for a snuggle. She started to urp (the cat, not Laura). Laura picked up the cat trying to get it off of the bed before the explosion. She didn't make it (both the cat and Laura). The cat went off like a fire hose, all. over. me. Exclusively. She had just eaten and drank about a gallon of water. Did you know that cats don't chew? Laura is still giggling about it. She told my daughter about it tonight, and Kris laughed for about 5 minutes straight. Yes, I exist for the amusement of my family.

I don't watch much network TV, it's mostly PBS, Discovery Channel, HGTV, BBC America - whatever strikes my interest at the time. The guys I work with are BIG into American Idol, Heros, Dancing With the Stars, Lost, etc. They are usually our lunchtime conversation. I haven't seen any of them, but I am intimately familiar with the plot lines. (On Heros, the man with the glasses is not really the father of cheerleader girl who can heal herself of any hurt, she was given to him to raise - by the father of the chinese guy who can bend time. On lost, the curly haired guy had his own episode and they found a wrecked VW bus. They tried to get it running but no go. On American Idol Simon seems to be meaner than usual and a girl from Georgia is doing really well. And it turns out that Emmett Smith is a pretty good ballroom dancer and that Jerry Springer got a lot of sympathy votes 'cause he stayed on WAY too long. BTW, Joey Lawrence is married a woman that used to live here and worked with my wife. She went west looking for her big showbiz break and viola - she gets on TV as a member of the audience and in the meet the contestants video.) But let me bring up Mystery or American Experience and I am met with blank stares and an immediate reversion to Lost.

We are going Sunday to visit my folks. I have SHAMEFULLY not visited for about a month. There will be food, conversation, and computers. Dad has bought one of the new intel core duo Mac laptops. He has a G3 laptop and a G5 desktop. ?He also has an IBM laptop he bought in a pawn shop because his favorite mapping software only runs on the Windows OS. He and mom have a 5th wheel and he likes to map out their trip using the mapping software, and with a GPS unit it will update their current location on the map. He has built overlays that show all of the campgrounds he's a member of and all of the Flying J's (truck stops where he can get diesel for his truck). The new Macs have a dual-boot capacity so he can run the Mac OS or Windows - just for the mapping. (Dad has been a Mac addict since they came out. I still have his first Macintosh sitting in a closet here - one of the first, all-in-one black & white 9 inch screen) Anyway, he's been calling me this week for help porting his overlays from the IBM to the new Mac. So I am sure he and I will be spending time working on his new 'puter. Maybe he'll give me one of his castoffs!

Oh well, enough of the blah, blah - Eddy Izzard is on BBC. gotta go. Everyone have a good weekend. Cheers.

In My Life

I've posted several times recently about my past, about where and how I grew up. OTJ has also written several posts recently centered around her past. Sunday I was out driving and heard a Beatles tune that really spoke to me about this. Here is the first stanza of "In My Life":

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed,
Some forever, not for better,
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places had their moments,
With lovers and friends I still can recall,
Some are dead and some are living,
In my life I’ve loved them all.


I have such strong memories of certain things. My grandfather's store, his farm, etc. These are places I haven't been, except in my memories, for a long time. I go almost every year to a family reunion of my mother's family. It is held in a state park a few miles north of the little town south of which my grandfather lived. It wouldn't take but a 20 minute journey to get to his house, and a few more minutes to the store. But I am afraid to go. I am afraid of what it is like now, that it won't be the place I remember. All of this has passed out of family hands. I don't want to lose my memories of these places, to replace them with images of today and the disappointment that they are no longer as I loved them.

A few years ago I had to go to Reno, Nevada for business. I was there for two weeks. Instead of flying home for the weekend, Laura flew out and we drove over to Monterey, California. She and I met and were married there while we were students at the Defense Language Institute. We drove all over the Monterey peninsula that weekend, chasing down places we used to frequent. It had changed so much. At one point, I suggested we try to visit the Presidio itself and Laura refused. She explained later she wanted to keep her memories of where we met and lived.

For our 25th wedding anniversary we are planning a trip to Crete, Greece. We lived there for two years and both of our children were born there. We are both really looking forward to the trip, but I am a little anxious. This too was a special time for us. The base I was stationed at is closed and even though the local town has taken over part of it, many of the buildings have been gutted and are derelict. There's been a good bit of development in the area where we lived, and I am afraid that the little out of the way places we used to go to will be gone. It will, I think, be a bittersweet trip for me.

I don't want to be one of those people who live in the past, nor do I want to be one of those people who want to forget their past. It could be that my recent preoccupation with my past is, in part, because of the uncertainty in my present position - the changes of the past 2 - 3 years in the company I work for, the real possibility that it won't be in business or I won't be working for it in the next few years - that this uncertainty has me looking for better times. At the time we were living in these places there was much uncertainty too, but we were young and had so much ahead of us - and maybe in the arrogance or blindness of youth - to look ahead to.

That isn't to say that I don't have anything to look forward to now. But there has been so much change in the past few years. Our kids have grown up, and while they aren't quite out of the "nest", they are almost gone. We don't see either of them during the week - Kris is at school and Zack works swings. (He might or might not come to the house for supper). We are by ourselves for the first time since we were married. I am enjoying it, but I miss them.

Laura and I have a lifetime together to look forward to. We are not wealthy but we have reached a point where we aren't worried about paying the bills and we can afford - for instance - for Laura to go to England with her sisters. I am quietly excited about our life to come. If I've lost the enthusiasm of youth I've gained the ability to live in - and appreciate - the present. So, while I reminisce about my past, I live in the present and enjoy the memories I've made and anticipate those I am going to make.

Detritus

I have no theme, but feel an urge to post, so here's a few things going on right now.

Our son Zack had two things he really wanted to do once he got his job. One of which was to get high-speed internet. We have had dial-up since we first got internet access, and for one reason or another it never gets any faster than 33Kb (the fastest any modem can transmit data is 56KB). With today's complex web pages this means s.......l......o.......w loading screens. Last week he came to me (again) and said that if we would order broadband he would pay for it. I had been resisting due to the sizable increase in our cable bill. But, if he were going to pay for it........I ordered it. I also got a wireless router. This means the kids can use their laptops from anywhere in the house, not just in the living room - with a phone cord stretched across the floor ready to trip the unwary (or naturally clumsy). Zack is happy now and I'm diggin' on it too. Laura is happy too because she can now do her research into what to do and see on her trip in May. Only one thing left to decide - since I've also wanted it and am liking it I now have to decide how much (if any) to make Zack pay. Sure is tempting......

Apropos of new internet connectivity, we have a tom cat that must have sensed it coming because the day I ordered it he sprayed the keyboard - rather thoroughly. I had to spend 3 hours taking it completely apart, cleaning the hundreds of parts and putting it back together without losing any of them. After that demanding task, I didn't feel up to configuring and installing the cable modem. I now have a gleamingly clean keyboard and a new cat-pelt rug.

Laura and I went to see Chick Corea and Bela Fleck last night. WHAT A GREAT CONCERT. I've been a fan of Bela Fleck's for some years. His talent is amazing. I haven't listened to a lot of Chick Corea, I think I will now. This was only their second performance as a duo. Listening to them you'd think they'd been together for years. The way they played off of each other, the entire performance seemed like improv. Ever since I learned to play an instrument I have come to really appreciate the skill it takes. Listening to a symphony or a band I am always aware of the virtuosity of the musicians. But there is a special talent that jazz players have, their ability to improvise, to hear a melody and then to instantaneously compose and play a variation on it, take it further....it amazes me. Last night was 2 hours of give and take, melodies handed back and forth, it was a performance I'll long remember. I would love to hear them again at the end of the tour, when they've played together for a while.

Tuesday was my daughter's birthday - she turned 20. We called and wished her a happy birthday, but had to postpone the celebration until this weekend when she will be home. Her birthday wasn't a total bust, some of her friends took her to dinner. There will be presents, cake & ice cream at our house Saturday night. Woot.

School Daze

(I had written this post THE FIRST TIME and blogger ate it. AARRGH)

I’ve read several posts recently that, directly or indirectly, referred to school. I’ve always thought my experiences to be unusual until lately. You can be the judge.

Kindergarten, 1^st & 2^nd grades – Kaiserslautern, Germany:

- I went a DoD school (department of defense) at Vogelweh Army base. (We lived on the economy.) We had a weekly class to learn german and the teacher used a felt board to put various characters and items on telling fairy tales (Cinderella, little red riding hood) in german. I was totally bored as I had learned german idiomatically playing with the kids in the neighborhood. I was our family’s translator. (just imagine being in a foreign country and having to rely on a 5 - 6 year old to translate everything for you.)

- I had to catch the school bus at the bottom of the hill, in front of a grocery store and across the street from a fruit stand. My bus driver was friends with the people who ran the grocery store. One day I was playing with the kids in the neighborhood, we were in the store’s basement. They went outside and I was sitting on a barstool reading a german comic book. I didn’t want to go out, so one of the kids spun the chair – and I fell out of it, landing on an empty bottle breaking it. I ran crying around to the front of the store, dripping blood. The lady running the store wrapped my hand and my bus driver took me home. I had to translate for the bus driver as he told my parents about my having a blood-soaked rag around my hand. I still have the scar on my palm.

- I once decided to go home from school with a friend because it was his birthday and he was having a party. My parents didn’t know where I was so my friend’s mother had to call them to come get me.

3^rd & 4^th grades – Biloxi, Mississippi:

- In 4^th grade I decided to use my middle name as there were two other kids in my class with my first name.

- one day I dropped my thermos running for the bus (breaking the glass liner). I asked the driver to wait a minute and I ran back (only 4 houses) where my mom met me at the front door with milk money. I was running back to the bus when he pulled away - just before I got to it. I ran down the street yelling for him to stop. (the bastard had to know I was running behind him, I could hear the kids on the bus yelling for him to stop). My mom was livid. She spent the morning giving the school all kinds of hell about it.

- My brother jumped off of some steps at school and broke something or another – all I remember is a cast on his lower leg and crutches.

- There were several bomb scares. (never any bombs). I remember being bored having to stand around outside, NOT being able to play, while the building was searched.

5^th grade – Blakely, Georgia:

- One of my teachers would tell us Jack tales – this boy named Jack who lived in the Appalachian mountains in NC and was always defeating giants by being smarter than they were.

- I remember a microwave oven being demonstrated – scrambled egg IN the shell. Another food related item – earthworm brownies.

- One of my teachers – Ms. Golden – was a distant cousin of some-sort. For years since, I was embarrassed at family reunions by her telling my mother and me how sweet and smart I was.

- We used to play kick-ball and dodge ball in P.E. – you could get back into the game if you would take a lick (a swat of the paddle) from the coach. You were jeered at if you didn’t have the courage to take the lick.

6^th grade – Biloxi, Mississippi:

- I had a friend named Francis, who had black curly hair. I remember thinking it was a bit weird that a boy had a girl’s name. Another friend was a girl nicknamed JackRabbit because she could outrun everyone in class. There was another kid, a bit of a jerk, who had a pet gerbil that he brought to class one day and it bit him. (his name might have been Larry……)

- My parents sent me to a child psychologist during this time. They had a hell of a time with me, they think it was because the previous year Dad had been gone overseas and I didn’t like his authority being reestablished over me when he came back. (I don’t remember why I was so unhappy – just me being me I guess.) I begged and begged to be allowed to go back to Georgia and live with my grandparents. They acquiesced and let me move back the following year. That had to have broken my mother’s heart. I still look back on that and wonder what the hell was going on in my 11-12 year old mind.

- I started playing trumpet – which I picked because I LOVED Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass Band. Still do.

7^th, 8^th & 9^th grades: Blakely, Georgia:

- I was put into the high school band because the middle school didn’t have a band program. The two schools were on opposite sides of the main street into town and there was a creepy tunnel under the street I had to use to get to band class. Seems like it was always wet down there.

- At that time, there was generally one high school per county, so football games were a few hours trip away. There was a mad scramble to sign up for bus seats in the back of the bus. The cool kids sat back there, as did the couples – so they could make-out during the long ride home.

- My band director at the time nicknamed me Porky. NOT because I did cartoon impressions. (You figure it out). I didn’t mind too much, I was 12 years old in a crowd of high school kids and I was happy to belong. But - it didn’t stop me from being in a kissing contest once out back of the band room one night after we got back from a game.

- In the 9^th grade I was nominated to join the Beta Club (kinda like the National Honor Society). We put on an air-band concert (with unplayed instruments, though) and I was a lead guitarist for Boston.

10^th grade – Austin, Texas:

- This was a huge change for me. The high school I attended had 3000 kids and was one of eight in the city. You signed up for classes just like it was college. You had a catalog of classes and a form to fill out with which to build your schedule. This happened 3 times a year.

- The band was equally huge – around 200 kids in the varsity band and over 100 in the junior varsity band. The varsity band played for varsity sports and competed with other bands/other schools. The JV band played for the JV teams – no competitions. There were regular tryouts for chair that required you to make a tape of some selected piece and the results were printed and put up on a bulletin board. I just wasn’t used to this kind of organization. I was used to small bands where you knew everyone. I don’t think I met most of the band. We practiced in small groups, the band director in a 3-story tower with a bullhorn to watch over a football field full of practicing kids.

- I couldn’t get into the school’s drivers ed course. Texas required the class to get your driver’s license at 16, so I took a commercial course in downtown Austin. I would take a city bus after school and return back to the school campus afterward where my folks would pick me up. One day I had a school band concert the same day as my drivers ed class, so when I got back I changed into my uniform and played in the concert. When I called my parents for a ride home, I found out they didn’t know where I was and had called the cops. I thought that they knew about it especially as my mom had specially taken me to school that morning WITH my band uniform.

11^th & 12^th grades – Columbus, Georgia:

- I was in all of the band classes offered – symphonic band, marching band, & jazz band. Our band director hated marching band, but since he had to do it, we were damned well going to do it right. We marched our asses off. Band camp start 2 weeks before school and was 10 hours a day. We always made 1’s in the contests we were in. We worked equally hard in the other band classes. I played trumpet, French horn and flugelhorn my senior year.

- It was an open-plan school. There were teaching teams for the major courses. There were 3 – 4 classes in one big room (in their own corners) and the teachers would rotate among them teaching the same lesson to each class. It could be distracting when the other class(es) were watching a film or had discussion and we were trying to listen to a lecture. Friday’s were test day. The room could be sectioned off using sliding dividers if needs be.

- At the end of my junior year I was selected (one of 4 from Georgia) to attend the Summer Scientific Seminar at the Air Force Academy. I had to get permission to miss all of my finals that year. The academy campus is gorgeous – on top of a mountain in Colorado. (I tried to run track while I was there and couldn’t breathe – lower oxygen concentration). It was a week of barely veiled recruiting for the academy, which I had no intention of attending. I enjoyed it though, and confirmed academy life was not for me. Despite getting to start and run a jet engine.

- When I was a senior I went to my first frat party and stayed out all night, getting in at 6 AM. My parents had called the cops and my dad was out looking for me. I was grounded for over a month. No dates, no nothing except school and work. (as you can see, me going my own way was a theme that goes back to my earliest days).

This has gotten long enough, so I’ll wrap it up now. My experience of going to many different schools was unusual – to the kids I went to school with. Maybe today it is different.

happy corporate greed day

My wife and I were talking this morning about valentine's day. My gift to her this year is to go home during lunch and bring in the citrus trees as the temperature is dropping. Actually, the way she put it is that my gift to her is that I'm doing her bidding. (I do that every day anyway.)

The last gift I recall buying her for valentine's day (we don't exchange valentine's gifts anymore) was an anatomically correct, life-size & weight chocolate heart. Occasionally when she is told of some piece of jewelry or bouquet of flowers so-and-so got she'll tell them of this. At minimum it causes a pause in the conversation, and not a few raised eyebrows. She reminded me of it last night with a chuckle and suggested that I share this "expression of my love".

Every kiss does NOT start with Kaye. or De Beers. or Hallmark.

Ole'

I was listening to NPR this morning and it was reported that some official of the government of Spain had the gall to suggest that the bull in a bullfight be allowed to leave the arena alive. (Apparently this is what is done in South America.) An end to bullfighting was NOT suggested, despite a poll that indicates that over 70% of Spaniards have no interest at all in bullfighting. However, there is a huge uproar in Spain – who has the audacity to suggest a change to this cultural rite? One young lady – a bullfighter in training – commented to the effect that it had been wrong of Spain to impose its cultural values on the new world during its colonization, so it is wrong for the world to impose its cultural values on Spain.

Now I expect that my reaction to this story was probably the same as most people – that bullfighting is a barbaric custom that is an affront to modern cultural values, is cruel to the bulls and it is about time that bullfighting is stopped. Another of the people interviewed in Spain made the observation that these bulls are treated better than cattle are here and have a relatively quick and painless death at the hands of an expert toreador. I have not been to a bullfight and cannot speak from any direct knowledge, but how can a bull’s death be relatively quick and painless when it is continually stabbed and bled, it is run until it is too tired to escape and the toreador can deliver the coup de gras. Seems to me that it would be painful to be continually stabbed by the picadors and the toreador.

Aside from ending bullfighting I also have an aversion to hunting. In this country, at least, there is no reason for people to go out to kill game to put food on the table. It is more expensive to hunt, factoring in the cost of a gun (or bow), ammunition, and the hunting license, than to buy meat in the supermarket. Ditto for fishing. This appears to be a growing sentiment as the state of Georgia felt it had to amend it's constitution to protect the right to hunt and fish. My aversion to hunting comes from the viewpoint that since it isn’t necessary, that we are killing animals for sport. Even if they are eaten – which is mostly the case – it isn’t necessary, Kroger down the road has reasonably priced meat. Hunters argue that they perform a service, thinning out the game population to the point where the game can continue to flourish. I.e. – there is an overpopulation of the game being hunted. And that is probably true, as we are continually destroying their habitat to build more subdivisions and malls, forcing the game to concentrate in smaller and smaller areas. They also argue that it is in the nature of things that we eat other (lower) animals. After all, don't lions eat gazelles, cats eat rodents, wolves eat sheep, etc? Natural.

I really LOVE a good steak. I enjoy chicken cooked in a variety of ways. In other words, I eat meat. So, how can I object to people who hunt (or bullfight) if I have no problems eating animals? In fact, I eat animals whose sole purpose in life is to be eaten by me. Hunters can argue that they are eating animals whose purpose was to live, to be part of the ecosystem, and that only a few of them wind up as food (or as heads on a wall). Which is a valid point. I mean, it is unmentionable what is done to put veal on the table, or to produce goose liver pate. With the amount of chemicals that are pumped into cows to get them to market I am surprised we haven’t grown extra limbs. Beaks of chickens are clipped and they are forced to live crammed into small cages beak-to-beak until processed for our tables.

I can’t say that I have thoroughly thought out the relationship between humans and the other animals on this planet. I tend to believe that they have as much right to survive on this planet as we do, so what gives humans the right to use animals to our benefit? We are sufficiently advanced as to be able to derive our protein from non-animal sources, so they aren’t necessary as a source of sustenance. Why is it wrong to experiment on chimpanzees if those experiments save human lives? Why is it wrong to test cosmetics on animals if it prevents harm to humans? Why is it okay for me to eat a cow who’s entire existence is dedicated to providing me with gustatory pleasure?

I can’t decide. If I follow through with the majority of my feelings regarding animals, then I should be a vegetarian. Or vegan. Why don’t I have the strength of my convictions?

How say you?

uhhhh....

I have had the worst time lately getting motivated at work. I can't concentrate for any length of time and am only sporadically productive. While this has given me time to be distracted by you-all (blogging) it is certainly not what I am being paid to do.

I am not excited about my work anymore. Not even my impending trips to the middle-east (which could be because they are being pushed back and pushed back) are lighting my fire. I am not sure why - but maybe we'll discover this together.

I have had a tough year. My mother-in-law went into hospice last March and died last December. Laura was gone for 3 months during that time, which had its own consequences. I missed her terribly. I also missed her paycheck. Our finances took a hit as she wasn't paid for the time she was gone. The constant background hum of her mother's condition, when was the end going to be, etc. was there and wore on us both.

Work hasn't been a fun place to be either. We exited a 2 year bankruptcy in August of 2005 being bought by another company. We have (before, during, and after the period of bankruptcy) closed @ 30 plants. That's approximately 13,000 people that have lost jobs. 5 of those plants are (were) in this small town I live in. This company manufactures textiles - sheets, towels, blankets & pillows. In 2000 (before any of these plant closings) we had almost 2 billion dollars in sales. I think last year we had @800,000 - 900,000 in sales. The Corporate offices have been moved from here to New York. 90% of what I do now is in support of sourcing already-manufactured goods from overseas (China, Pakistan, Turkey, etc.). My current project is to get ready for converting a plant we bought in Bahrain over to our systems. We are also installing systems in a plant in Pakistan - this is a joint-venture, not an outright purchase. Within a year or two we will be selling more sourced goods than manufactured goods.

It doesn't help either that the company that bought us has not been in manufacturing before. The man chosen to be our new CEO hates this town, has said aloud that he will never come back to this hick town (hence the move of the corporate function to New York). Almost all of upper management has been replaced with their people and I really think that the new management think we don't know what we're doing and are of no relative value to the company. I was told in no uncertain terms that when I reviewed those reporting to me that there WILL NOT BE anyone rated above meets-requirements. Nor will there be any promotions. "No one working for a company who lost $90 million last year is an above-average performer" and I guess then no one deserves a raise either.

I used to be proud of the company I work for. Everywhere I go, everywhere I shop I looked to see if our sheets/towels are being sold (or used - in hotels). If I saw them, I would point it out to people. I no longer do this. I am trying to be happy to still have a job after all of those who no longer do, but it doesn't do much for me. But, I can't leave in the middle of this huge months-long project either. The man I work for has been my boss (directly and indirectly) since I came to work here and I wouldn't do that to him.

I don't want to start a pity party here, I guess I'm using this to explore my feelings. I like where I'm living, it's a great little town and it's growing (we are getting a car manufacturing plant, it's currently under construction). But, I've often felt bad about not being closer to my wife's family. Her dad is in his 80's (but will probably outlive me) and all of her sisters live in KC (except one who lives 3 hours south in Springfield). The IT market up there isn't the greatest, though and the cost of living is a good bit higher. However - I love living in the south. My mom is from a few hours south of here and my most vivid memories growing up are from when we were here. I love the people, the accent!, the manners (which are disappearing), business with a handshake (when my daughter had her flat tire, I sent her to the place where I buy my tires at and they fixed her up immediately - I went by after work to pay the bill. This same business did me a big favor, I was in Louisiana and my wife called me upset - she had 2 flat tires. I called the tire place, they drove over, pulled her tires, fixed them and took them back to put them on. When I returned to town a week later I went by to pay them. They didn't charge me for all of the extra work they did to go get them and take them back - all based on a phone call from me 1000 miles away.) I see the proprietor around town (as I do for the other places I do business) at lunch or shopping after work and often arrange for things to get done. I have lived in a lot of places and haven't had that experience before living here.

What I really need to do is to find a way to deal with it. If I'm not ready to leave here, then I need to get motivated - they deserve to get 100% of my attention and work while I am accepting their salary. I can reevaluate whether to stay or go after this year when I'm finished with the current projects. Even though I love it here, I've always moved and I enjoy new places and new experiences. Who knows, maybe I will have made peace with the new company and will want to stay. Or maybe we will have gone under and I will be forced to change. Either way, that's the future and now is now.

gotta do what'cha gotta do.

Resolution

For those waiting with bated breath on the big camera project, it has reached a project milestone. The camera was selected and ordered. I decided on the Canon A710 IS. It was $45 more than my original choice - the Canon A630 - but even though the 710 has a 7.1 mega pixel image sensor (smaller that the 8 mega pixel sensor in the A630) it has image stabilization and a few more features. So, the camera is on it's way. I got a free Canon printer with it, and I bought a 1 gig memory card and a case too. They are due to be delivered next week.

(although this was originally intended as a birthday gift, my lack of fore-planning, imagination, whatever, combined with an unanticipated ailment makes this an out-of-the-blue gift. I don't know if it counts.)

In other news, last night my daughter Kris was coming home along a country road and had a blow-out. It was raining and she was worried about changing the tire, it being on the road-side of the car. I told her to pull the car into the next driveway so she could change it safely. I taught each of our children how to change a tire (along with other basic car maintenance) when they got their vehicles. I made each practice in our driveway. So - I was more worried about her having to change it in the cold rain more that anything else. My wife was getting off work at the same time so she rode out to meet her and to make sure everything was going okay. When my wife got there, a gentleman (in the full sense of the word) had stopped to help my daughter and was just finishing up with the tire. I have his card and am trying to come up with a small gift, some way of showing my (our) appreciation at his stopping in the rain and helping my daughter. Maybe a card with a gift certificate. I dunno, I don't want to insult the guy - I know he didn't do it for renumeration. Maybe just the card.


Chivalry is NOT dead!

off we go, into the wild blue yonder....

It was recently "gently" pointed out to me that I had pompously (my interpretation) suggested that I don't post here about inconsequential things, such as bronchitis and buying a camera. It brought me up short, reminding me that I should practice what I preach. While the following may be actually considered even more self-indulgent, as it is about me, my mea culpa is that it is in response to a request.


I spent 6 years in the Air Force as a cryptologic linguist. This is how the USAF describes this job:

Operates and manages operation of communications equipment. Operates radio receivers, recording equipment, typewriters, keyboards, computer consoles, and related equipment. Tunes receivers to prescribed frequencies or performs frequency search missions, or both, over specified portions of radio spectrums to locate and monitor stations and frequency use. Monitors and records communications, adding appropriate comments to assist in transcription and analysis. Performs preventive maintenance on mission equipment.

Transcribes and processes communications. Transcribes, translates, analyzes, and reports on assigned communications.

Translates spoken or written material from one language to another. Uses wording aids, and references. Recognizes essential elements of information for reporting activity. Assists analysts in identifying, analyzing, and reporting activities.

Maintains technical aids, logs, and records. Compiles and maintains operation records and statistics. Ensures logs, forms, and correspondence are properly completed, annotated, and distributed. Monitors and maintains handbooks, working aids, and analytical references to ensure applicability and currency. Reviews, updates, and compiles data for operational use.

Paraphrased, I listened to arabic communications, recorded and typed what I heard, translated it, analyzed and reported it.

I included the official job description because that is about all of the detail I can get into without disclosing potentially classified information. This job requires a top secret/sensitive compartmented information security clearance.

I joined the Air Force in March of 1983 because I didn't know what else to do. I was in college and was burned out - I tried to work full time and go to school full time and I just couldn't hack it anymore. I had had some idea that joining the military would give me a full-time job that would also help pay for college. I took the military entrance exam and scored well enough that I could request any job they had an opening for. Somehow or another I ran across the description for airborne cryptologic linguist - that really caught my eye as I've always been interested in flying. The job requires a facility for foreign languages, so I took the language aptitude battery and qualified for language school. So off I go to basic training. (The less said about basic, the better.) While there, I had to take 2 days worth of tests to determine which language type I had a propensity for (slavic, romance, inflected, etc). Once again, I scored well enough to be allowed to choose. I had no idea which I was interested in. We saw a film that described the locations the different languages were taught. At that time there were 4 (I think) - San Antonio, San Francisco, San Diego, and Monterey. Monterey sounded the most interesting place to be (I still don't know why San Francisco didn't top my list - although I remember pictures of Monterey including palm trees and the ocean) so I asked which languages were taught there. Arabic was among those that had current openings. So, come April, off I go to Monterey - to the Defense Language Institute, Foreign Language Center at the Presidio of Monterey, California. I spent the next year there 6 hours a day, 5 days a week learning arabic. This included written as well as oral training, with some cultural lessons too. Here is where I met Laura. She was a student at DLI too, learning chinese. We decided to marry. (Laura decided to leave the military.) Due to the "dangers" inherent in the airborne portion of the job, I opted for a ground slot instead - new wife, kid on the way, etc. In April of 1984 I graduated from DLI and in May we moved to San Angelo, Texas, for my next school - this time technical training. For the first time I was introduced to the fundamentals of being a cryptologic linguist. (see job description above) We were there for 3 months - during the middle of the summer. In September we moved to the island of Crete. Now began another 3 months of OJT to learn mission-specific skills (new equipment, targets, etc.) For the next 2 years there I worked a cycle of 4 swings (2:30PM to 10:30PM), 4 mids (10:30PM to 6:30AM), 4 days (6:30AM to 2:30PM) and 3 days off. Believe it or not, you get used to it. Anyway, in September of 1987 we moved back to the states, to Maryland. I worked at NSA (the National Security Agency) for the next two years doing primarily analytical work.

In late 1989 I had some choices to make. I was due to re-enlist in early 1990. I liked my job but it meant the distinct possibility of transferring to Crete every 2 years then back to Maryland. As much as we liked Crete, the biggest problem was that there weren't schools there for kids beyond elementary school - which they would reach during the next enlistment. If we were stationed on Crete when the kids were old enough for jr. high or high school they would have had to attend a DoD boarding school in Spain. That wasn't going to happen. So, my choices were to:

a) stay in, and when the kids were old enough, hope for an assignment to somewhere other than Crete,
b) stay in and go to Crete unaccompanied - Laura and the kids stay state-side,
c) change career fields giving me other assignment options
d) get out of the military.

Neither a nor b appealed to us. I tried option c but wasn't able to get a slot in the career field I wanted - computers. I could have re-enlisted and continued to try option c, but I was on the cusp of my next rotation to Crete and didn't feel confident that I would be allowed to transfer. So, I chose option d. My dad told me about this company whose computers he repaired that had a programming staff and I submitted a resume. They called me down for an interview and within a week I was offered a job. The next week I took terminal leave and we moved in with my parents here and I took this job.

I know that this doesn't tell you really anything about being a cryptologic linguist. The only other thing I feel I can mention is that there is (or was when I was in) a "crypto" portion of the job that involved codes & cyphers. What can I say, I like puzzles. If you are interested, there have been a few books written about NSA that might give a little more insight to their overall mission and imply a little more about what I did. For those that hung on all the way to here, you deserve a prize (that I don't have to give) and I hope it wasn't too boring. I am planning on a multi-installment post about our experience living on Crete and our kids being born there. Maybe that will prove to me more interesting.

cough, cough, hack, hack, *splat* - so that's what it looks like.

I think I am back in the world of the living. I won't commit myself until I make it the rest of the day. Except for Tuesday morning and another attempt Thursday morning, I have been either in bed or on the couch. I doubt I have any lungs left as I have been coughing them out for the past 10 days. The *official* diagnosis is viral bronchitis with a prognosis of "wait it out". (This is from a man with 12-14 years of training, x years of practice and a 6 or 7 figure income - an expert in the field. go figure.) I am still waiting, albeit from my desk now instead of the couch.

Laura is almost over hers, as she didn't have nearly as bad a case as I do. She only missed 1.5 days of work. She is back to planning for her trip. She's talking to her sisters about the pros & cons of buying a 14 day rail pass (@$330 per person) or renting a car (@$700) while they are there. They are beginning to talk about what they want to see, about Scotland vs. Paris for the weekend, etc.

I am back to shopping for cameras and hope to wrap it up soon. Thanks for all of your suggestions & advice - I still haven't quite made up my mind, though. Also, thanks for all of your well-wishes regarding my on-going cheating of death - I hope to continue to do so, but it is difficult with most of my lungs strewn about the house. Wish me luck.

T-minus 1 and holding

I have spent the last 3 days in bed with bronchitis. (well - I did go to work for a few hours this morning, but that was because I had to write my yearly eval and turn it in to my boss. My yearly eval of myself. I might find the strength later to go into this interesting management philosophy.)

Laura's birthday is tomorrow and NO PRESENT. ARGH.

I really appreciate the input on which camera. I had about settled on the Canon SD700 IS when the malady struck. The last time I had bronchitis it lasted for 3 months and I lost 25 pounds. I don't think I'll be able to sell anyone on this diet, efficient as it may be.

Anyway, just a quick update - I know everyone was on tenterhooks about the big decision. which hasn't been decided.

I might be up to catching up on all of you tomorrow.

Cheers.

smile and say "CHEESE"

Laura's birthday is coming up next week. I want to give her a digital camera to take with her to England. We have a 35mm Canon AE1 - it was given to Laura 25 years ago. It still works, but we have film from 10 years ago that hasn't been developed yet. Time to move into the modern age.

This request is a bit late, but I'm looking for advice on which camera to purchase. I'm leaning towards another Canon but there are so many out there I can't really differentiate between them and have no feel for which is better. (I love, but cannot afford, the Canon digital Rebel SLR.)

So - any last minute advice for this last minute request?

Over There, over there......

My wife has an irritating habit of starting conversations like "my sister called me today", or "My sister pissed off dad again." Laura has 4 sisters. So, which sister this time? Like I'm supposed to read her mind, or play 20 questions? argh.

Anyway, Jackie's (The sister in question here) husband Tony's sister is working in England, has a large house, and has invited Jackie & Tony over for a visit. The problem is that Tony is all "nope, ain't gonna do it. don't wanna. can't make me." So while we were up in Kansas City last December Laura and her sisters were talking and they decided that if Tony didn't want to go, he didn't have to go, his loss, we do - so let's go. They tossed around dates and 3 of the 5 - Jackie, Laura, and heretofore unmentioned Annie, are going.

Annie told Laura that she had researched flights and they (Annie & Jackie) were flying out of KC on the 5th of May arriving on the 6th at Gatwick. So I cashed in my frequent-flyer points and immediately found out that all of the frequent-flyer seats out of Atlanta direct to Gatwick were gone. Dammit. BUT the frequent-flyer lady, through 45 minutes of herculean flight-table mumbo jumbo found some non-Delta flights getting Laura there only 2 hours before her sisters - so we booked Laura's tickets. We then found out that Annie & Jackie HADN'T really bought tickets and confusion ensued. They, not being encumbered by frequent-flyer restrictions - paying actual money for theirs, got tickets fairly easily and wound up arriving just about the same time as originally stated. AND wonder of wonders, wound up on the same flight leaving Gatwick as Laura coming home on the 19th.

So, long story short, Laura and her sisters are going to England for 2 weeks in May. If there are any anglophiles out there cognizant of the south of England (Bramley, Hampshire) and environs please feel free to suggest any "can't miss" attractions providing, of course, they fit within a moderate budget.

I am sooooo jealous. I've always wanted to go to England. But - I have to travel occasionally on business and get to go to some neat places (this year will be Bahrain and Pakistan) so I'm not complaining by any means. She'll have a blast with her sisters - she's really excited about going. (Last night she stopped in the middle of being excited to tell me she wished it were me she were going with - and then continued being excited.) I'm excited for her. She's had such a rough time recently - 2006 was a bitch - she deserves this. And although I will have to work some big-time magic on our budget, I'll make it work.

drawing a null......

as it is almost a week's silence here, and nature (and bob) abhors a vacuum, and I can't think of anything noteworthy, I'm stealing a meme for blogfodder from MOI.

A) Four jobs I have had:

1. short order/pizza/dining hall cook
2. library assistant
3. cryptologic linguist
4. driver-helper for UPS

B ) Four movies I could watch over and over:

1) Mon Oncle
2) Blazing Saddles
3) McLintock
4) Wallace & Grommit - A Close Shave

C) Four places I have lived other than where you live now:

1. Biloxi, Mississippi
2. Gournes, Crete, Greece
3. Hilton, Georgia
4. Austin, Texas

D) Four T.V. Shows I like/liked to watch:

1. My Name is Earl
2. CSI
3. M*A*S*H
4. The Last of the Summer Wine

E) Four places I have been on vacation:

1.Perdido Key, Florida
2. Niagara Falls, NY (& Canada)
3. Santorini, Greece
4. San Francisco, California

F) Four Web sites I visit daily:

1. Daily Oliver
2. Joe Mathlete explains Marmaduke
3. Woot one day, one deal
4. The Onion

G) Four of my favorite foods:

1. Prime Rib
2. Barbecue from Arthur Bryant's in Kansas City
3. my wife's pot roast
4. everything on the table at our family reunions

H) Four places I would rather be right now:

1. on the beach
2. on a train crossing the northern rockies
3. in the meditation room in the B&B just up from the corner of Haight & Ashbury
4. helping my best friend in his furniture shop

Wishing

Last night as I tossed and turned I found myself once again wishing I could still sleep on my stomach. For years this is the way I lay down to go to sleep. But a combination of an old bed and my old back forces me to lay on my side. (For some weird reason, I cannot fall asleep on my back.) Anyway, as I tossed and turned I started thinking of other things I missed from the past.

• my kids when they were toddlers. Despite the day to day frustrations of raising two at one time, I sometimes really miss them sitting in my lap, smelling their hair as they nestled in my arms. the way all of their problems could be solved with a hug and a kiss.
• first kisses. We've been married 22 years so I have to reach WAY back, but I still remember the feeling I would get when kissing a girl for the first time. I can't describe it other than it was like a high current flowing through me looking for a ground. The nervousness, anticipation, not knowing if it would be returned or spurned. And the giddiness of knowing there would be a second kiss.
• my great-grandmother. Her house was right beside my grandfather's (of Hilton Grocery fame). Mama Smith always had time for us young-uns. There was always a cake or pie in the safe. She made the best biscuits - she kept a wooden bowl with flour in it, she would scoop a hollow and add buttermilk and oil and stir in flour with her hand until a dough was formed. She'd pinch off bits of dough and put them on a baking sheet and put them in the oven. no recipe, no measuring - I can't remember her ever having a cookbook out. I would sit on her back porch in a rocker helping her shell peas or butter beans, gather the eggs from the hen house, or get her a jar of pickles from the smoke house. She had fluffy white hair, wore simple dresses, her support hose rolled just below her knees, the blue veins in her strong hands stood out (missing the end of one of her fingers). And a cackle for a laugh - which she did often.
• my grandfather's barn. That barn was in turn a fort, a playhouse, a sanctuary. It had a hay loft and a tin roof. There was a lean-to on one side that sheltered his tractor and a bench full of old rusting tools and plow blades. He kept hogs in a pen around part of the barn and a trailer of corn to feed them. I loved to climb in the hayloft when it was raining for the sound of it on the tin roof. There was a corn crib which sometimes had corn, and always had spiders.
• Monterey California. I spent a year there learning arabic. I and a buddy would catch a bus Saturday mornings and ride over the hill to Carmel to go to the beach. We would stop at a shop, pick up some beer, bread & butter & cheese and stay the day catching the last bus back that evening. I met and married Laura while there. Our first apartment was one room with a divider that could be drawn across to close off the bed from the rest of the room. There was a little grocery store that made the BEST sandwiches, Laura and I would split one and bake a potato to go with it. There was a little bakery called Fifi's and the Dream Theater that down front instead of seats were pads on the floor with seat backs wide enough for two, you could stretch your legs out, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. I saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show there for the first time with Laura. I guess she and I had a lot of firsts in Monterey.
• my van. I have owned two VW vans (buses to be correct) - a '69 and a '71. I taught Laura to drive a stick shift in one. I rebuilt the engine of the other in our living room. ( I almost didn't get it out of the house, it wouldn't fit through the front door once reassembled.) Our first vehicle was the '69 and we drove it from Texas to Missouri, then to Georgia, then to New Jersey to send it to Crete. On my days off there we would often ride up into the hills and when we got hungry we would pull over, open the side door and have our picnic in the back of the van with the view of the valley in front of us. If the babies wouldn't sleep we could put them in the back of the van and ride them around - they'd be asleep in 10 minutes. I still can hear the unique sound of it's engine.

As you can see, I was awake for quite a while last night. I'm off to get another cup of coffee. Cheers.

Our Little Lion

Stripes died this morning. Technically it was of kidney failure and anemia, but generally it was old age. He had had a good life, relatively, and was loved. He died in Laura's arms.

Stripes was the cat equivalent of a mutt. He had long hair that was grey with darker stripes (hence the name). When he was younger he had tufts of fur surrounding his head somewhat like a lion's mane. He was certainly the alpha male of our pride of cats for a long time. He had survived being hit by a car (hip fracture), an infected ear (it grew to the size of a plum), and a few upper respiratory infections. He was a mean young tom up until he got hurt (the hip fracture). Laura dedicated herself to taming him and he became hers. Even when he was outside, he would come when she called. Also, all of our other cats liked him. Some cats will bristle at others and we have had to keep a few separated - but ALL of them would curl up with him for a good grooming. Weird.

I called the vet yesterday morning and got the news that he was dying. I went during my lunch hour and took him home. Laura was home early from work (slow days during the holidays) and she spent the rest of the day with him saying goodbye. He managed go hang on until this morning when it was obvious that he was suffering. We took him in and put him to sleep. He is buried in the back yard in a little alcove between some bushes. My daughter wants to do something - flowers, a stone, something.

If you have a number of pets, you love them all - but there's always a special one. Stripes was the one.

and to all a good night.

We had a good, if quiet anniversary. We did a little last-minute Christmas shopping and then went to dinner. Our kids treated us to our favorite japanese steak house. I could bearly move afterwards. Throughout the day we took our time and I was able to make Laura laugh every now and then.

I find that I have taken to blogging somewhat. the mechanics are difficult for me, my punctuation and grammar skills are atrocious. But I have met some new friends and am learning about life from others' prospective. I am also learning a little about myself. The process of writing these posts forces me to think through what I'm writing about.

In any case, I have enjoyed meeting you all and wish for you happy holidays and a Merry Christmas.

P.S. no call from the vet (surprise!). No news is good news, right?

'Tis The Season.......

First I would like to thank each of you for the sentiments expressed regarding Stripes and Laura. It means a lot to me.

Stripes: according to today's blood work, his numbers are a little better. He's eaten some. They have him on some kind of an I.V. treatment. BUT - he will have to stay over the holiday weekend. They won't be open but have promised to call Sunday to let us know how he is. I took Laura to see him today. He was happy to see her. It was hard to leave him there. I am afraid that this is the beginning of the end for Stripes. They are being extremely careful not to say that he will recover his kidney function or to give us much hope for his future. Right now they are hinting that if he stabilizes he will require some kind of treatment from now on.

Laura got off of work early and I have started my holiday vacation so we were going to try shopping for the kids. But by the time we got up with the vet and got to visit Stripes no one wanted to shop. On top of that tomorrow is our 22nd wedding aniversary and neither of us are acting real exited about it. We aren't doing much special, just going out to dinner at a nice restaurant and maybe a movie. I hope I can bring Laura out of herself and that she can be happy for a little while. I'm gonna try.

Crap, Crap, Crap, Crap, Crap

My wife asked me to take her favorite cat Stripes to the vet this morning 'cause he doesn't want to eat. He's been losing weight recently and been sneezing more than normal. The vet just called and said that blood tests indicate his kidneys aren't working - which is why he isn't eating. He suggested a certain treatment, but didn't sound optimistic about it working.

Stripes is 10-12 years old. (maybe a little more). For a good while he was an unapproachable tom. He ruled the roost for a while and we still have several of his offspring. Several years ago he got an injury and my wife had to win him over so she could treat him. Ever since he's been her baby. He is completely domesticated - he comes to her when she calls him.

I don't know what I'm going to do if he dies. Laura just lost her mother. She doesn't want to celebrate Christmas - we don't have a tree up and haven't bought gifts yet. On top of that she's got the never-ending crud. This will devistate her.

I haven't called her yet, I am dreading it.

update: I called to check on Stripes a few minutes ago, but the vet was in surgery. He did send a brief message: he will do bloodwork tomorrow morning to check the indicators for kidney function. I am waiting to tell Laura when I get home. Thanks for your support. Keep your fingers crossed.

Oops

We interrupt this program for an important announcement:

It was pointed out to me that, far be it from an IT type to make a mistake, I had turned off comments on my recent posts. Now I am admitting to nothing, but comments have been turned back on.

We now resume the previously scheduled programming.

Hilton Grocery

I was reading a blog post the other day that mentioned an old-fashioned country store. My grandaddy owned a country store, and portions of my younger years were spent there. Maybe I can paint a picture of it (as I have aboslutely no photos of it. I'll have to check with Mom to see if she does.)

It was situated at an intersection of a state road and two county roads on a gravel lot about 10 miles from town. Across the state road was the post office. (or post shack - it was tiny. My uncle ran it until it was closed.) The store was built of wood and had a front shelter where two gas pumps and a kerosene tank were located. You entered through the front screen door (with the Colonial Bread logo painted on it) or the side screen door - there was no air conditioning. I can still hear the slap of the screen doors closing. The wooden floor had worn where years of traffic had worn paths around the store. There were two windows across the front, one on either side of the front screen door behind one of which I would sometimes sit to watch for cars to pull up for gas. (I would race my brother to the pumps to see which of us got to pump the gas).

Just inside the front door in the left front corner were the drink coolers. When I first started going/working there there were no can drinks, you got either 8 or 10 ounce cokes (all soft drinks are coke in the South) and Pepsi had a 16 ounce-er. There was a crate beside one of the coolers to put your empties into. Along the left wall beyond the 2nd drink cooler was the milk cooler (with other dairy products, eggs, etc.) and then the gas heater with chairs around it - my grandmother used to sit by the fire during the winter and crochet (she taught me to crochet there) when there were no customers. This was where people would come to chat during all times of the year. There was almost always someone sitting there. Papa used to hitch one leg on the counter and talk with the current sitter(s). After the heater was the the wall phone (it was on a party line, so to make a call you picked up, listened to make sure folks weren't talking and dialed 4 digits for those on the same party line or 7 digits for town folks.). Next was the side entrance and finally a passageway to the back of the store.

Down the middle of the store from the front was a shelving display unit (bread on one side, odds and ends on the other) and at the end of the shelves was a place where bags of dog food as well as extra bales of sugar were stacked. (sugar came in 100 lb bales - 20 5lb bags or 10 10lb bags) (I used to sit at the top of the stack and pretend to be driving a stage coach.) After the sugar/dog food stacks was an aisleway in front of the meat cooler. Displayed in the cooler were souse meat, sausage meat, pork-chops, balogna, bacon, and a few sundries (now that I think on it, he didn't sell beef). The balogna, souse, and bacon were sliced to order. I can remember on weekday mornings when I would go with Papa to open the store I sliced a ton of balogna for lunch for the crews going to work on the nuclear plant being built nearby. They also bought a lot of potted meat and crackers, or vienna sausages. (both are uniquely southern comestables eaten on crackers with hot sauce). I would catch the bus from there to go to school.

On the right just inside the door was a passageway leading behind the right counters, first of which was the candy counter. Candy bars, bb's (they go together, right?) and a few candy-type items. Inside of a glass display case above the candy bars was where the penny candy was kept (some were 2-fer's). Next to the candy were 3 tall glass jars with heavy glass lids that held cookies. Behind the cookies was the cash register (that didn't work except for the cash drawer) and the hoop cheese cutter. The cutting of this cheese was reserved for Papa as he liked giving the customer ONE slice of cheese exactly the amount requested. The cutter had a flat round table on which the cheese wheel sat, it had a perpendicular handle that you pumped to and fro to move the cheese under the hinged cleaver used to cut the cheese (no jokes, please - this cheese cutting was a serious business!). Next to the hallowed cheese cutter was a brief expanse of counter, a passageway through, and then more counter at the end if which was the adding machine, complete with a handle to pull after each number entered. (I can still remember when it was upgraded to an electric model. Boy, were we in high cotton!) All behind these counters on the right were the shelves lining the wall from floor to ceiling where most of the groceries were. On these shelves also were cigarettes, loose-leaf tobacco (to roll your own) and snuff. (we sold a lot of snuff.) There were also the hanging displays of shoe strings, doan's liver/back/whathaveyou pills, plastic sunglasses, wallets, etc. A customer would come in, stand at the counter and would call out their order setting me or whoever else to fetch it. Their order was added up on the adding machine and bagged. Some folks were allowed to carry a "ticket" that was expected to be settled up at month-end. It was a big deal to me to be allowed to fill out the ticket.

Beyond the adding machine on the right was where the meat counter that ran across the back of the store met the right-side counter. Under the counter at this corner was where the cash box was kept - with a pistol on top. NOT TO BE MESSED WITH. Across the back of the store behind the meat counter was more floor to ceiling shelves. In the middle was a band saw to cut hams into slices, pork loins into chops and chickens in half. I was rarely allowed to do this, but I was always allowed to clean it. ugh.

Behind the store was a old burnham van body (off of the chassis) used for storage (sugar bales that didn't fit in the center, cattle feed and salt licks) and the outhouse. Yep - an outhouse. Although we were modern in that we kept toilet paper in it. During the summer Papa would send me home in his truck to get the tractor to bush hog behind the van body/outhouse to help keep the snakes and vermin away.

I would most often ride the bus down to the store after school and work there until closing at 6:00 PM. Sometimes during the spring and summer he would take me to the house, get out the tractor and start me plowing the field and then leave me to it while he went back to the store. (Papa also farmed corn and peanuts). Sometimes during the summer if I didn't go with him to open the store I would sleep in and then walk the railroad tracks the few miles to the store. Occasionally he would get up an order for someone and ask me to take his truck to deliver it - down a miriad of dirt roads that I knew by heart. Other summer days I would play with my brother and sister on his farm, frequently getting out his hunting jeep to ride around through the woods. Across the state highway beside the post office was a railroad siding. The train would stop there most days after switching and the crew would come over to get a coke & crackers. (I would go over and put coins under the engine's wheels to flatten them.) Empty boxcars would be left there for the papermill. Mr. Y.T. would come from town to clean them out. I would help him (in mid-summer heat) because he would let me drive his truck.

Papa's store is gone now, as is he. There are times I miss the hell out of him - and his store. In retrospect it was idyllic. Excepting those few years living with Papa (and Mama, and Mama & Papa Smith (great-grandparents) and my great-aunts & uncles, cousins, etc. etc. etc.) I was a city boy. My grandaddy was one of seven children all of which (but the one killed in WWII) lived within a few miles of each other. So living with him put me slap in the middle of a huge family. Despite spending most of my life moving from city to city I most often identify with these country roots - much more so than the years spent in suburbia. They are the clearest and most cherished memories I have of growing up.

Goin' to the movies

We were watching slides the evening after the funeral. Every so often one of my sisters-in-law would yell at the screen "look who's goin' to the movies!" and the other sisters would laugh. After hearing this two or three times I noticed that this was shouted out whenever someone in the slide was digging their underwear out of their nether regions. Afterwards my wife and I were talking and I asked her what was up with that. She told me that whenever her father would see one of them doing that he would ask, "Are you going to the movies?" There would be a puzzled look or a "no" and he would follow up with "Then why are you picking your seat?".

I wonder if my kids will remember the lessons I've tried to teach them. I didn't have this in my arsenal.

They do, however, remember about pulling my finger.....

Ellen Mae Woodford

Ellen Mae Woodford was born on October 28th, 1927. She had a difficult childhood, not only because she was raised during the depression, but also because she was from a broken home. I still don't know a lot of the details, but I do know that it fell on her to raise her younger siblings and that her sister Bev lived with her for some time after Ellen married.

I guess that the one thing that was discussed this past week was that she believed in family. In a big way. All told, she had 8 kids of her own (one of which was premature and did not survive beyond a few days).

She is survived by all but 2 of the eight children. They came in 2 batches with almost 10 years in between. There were 7 girls and one boy.

Some would say though that all of the kids in the neighborhood were hers too. She babysat for local families and ran the daycare at several churches. I'm sure you've all met someone who was great with kids, who could get them to behave and someone that they would listen to when all else failed. That was my mother-in-law.

I met Ellen in December 1984 3 days before I married her long-haired daughter. Before the day was out, she knew about my siblings, my parents, their siblings and parents; as well as how and where I was raised, etc. Her appetite for family history was voracious - and she remembered it all. If I mentioned someone was ill, the next time we talked (maybe months later) she would ask specifically about that person, their illness, etc. Her memory was amazing.

She rarely met a stranger. During a trip overseas to see us, she met a lady on the airplane that she had not seen since, but corresponded with for years afterward. When I was working swings and mids she would often get up early and walk on-base to get breakfast and would sit down with people (especially those with babies) and introduce herself and ask about them. For months after she left people would ask after my mother-in-law. Lee Greenwood came to Crete to put on a USO show while she was visiting us there. After the show MIL somehow managed to walk up and introduce herself to him and chatted for a few minutes. She didn't know who he was as she didn't listen to the radio and the only kind of music she professed any interest in was gospel, but she frequently mentioned in later years that she liked him and enjoyed the show. (I was in bed sleeping off a mid-shift at the time. She did this on her own.)

Her trip to visit us was an amazing thing unto itself. Ellen was a homemaker whose only income was her babysitting. But somehow she saved her money and made a trip to Crete to visit us after my daughter was born. She had made earlier trips to England and California, all by herself and all with her babysitting money. She did not have a driver's license as she was afraid to and had to be driven everywhere she went. My wife tells me that the only reason her dad bought her a car when she turned 16 was so that he could make her take Ellen everywhere she wanted to go relieving him of the chore.

Now I don't want to imply that she was a saint. I have mentioned elsewhere that I have had to mediate between my wife and my mother-in-law. Her magic with kids didn't always work with her own kids. Most of her kids have had some emotional problems of some sort and I believe that she did too. She also would often criticize the grandchild in her sight and praise the ones out of sight. (so, sometimes our kids were pariahs and sometimes they were saints!) Also, for many years if my wife complained about me to her mother, her mother would ask my wife what had she done wrong. My wife used to complain bitterly that she wished her mother would take her side in an argument instead of mine.

No one is perfect. I think that it is a mistake to deify someone after they pass away. You love someone despite their failings, knowing it takes all parts to make the whole. The wholeness of spirit that was Ellen lives on in each of us that knew her, and will continue to do so as long as we remember her. The following is quoted from the guestbook on Ellen's obituary in the Kansas City Star:

My family first met Ellen 3 years ago when we moved in next door to the Woodford's. At that time, our little girl was just turning 2 years old. We threw her a big birthday bash in our front yard and Ellen, who was joyfully being pushed over by Woody in her wheelchair, brought over a Fisher Price picnic basket full of magic markers to celebrate her birthday. Lauren was thrilled! To this day, she still talks about it and plays with the picnic basket nearly every day. Through the years, Lauren always got excited when we would see Ellen sitting outside on a pretty day and she would run up to her side and just gobble up the complements that Ellen would give her, telling her how pretty and smart she was. Most recently, Lauren and I dropped by to see Ellen when she came home from the hospital and Lauren didn't really know what to think of Ellen in her hospital bed. She asked me a lot of questions about why she was in bed and why she didn't talk to her like she use to. I did my best to explain to her about the stroke that Ellen had endured. Well, two days ago, after hearing of Ellen's passing, I had to find a way to tell Lauren the sad news. I decided just to tell her that Ellen had gone to heaven. Lauren's eye's lit up and she said, "Great, I'm so glad that she doesn't have to lay down anymore and that God gave her back her voice again!"

My wife broke down and cried for the first time since her mother died after having read that. So did her other sisters to whom she was reading it.

Ellen died on Monday, December 4th at 1:30 PM central. It has to be some comfort knowing she is no longer suffering and that (if you so believe) she is now where she can once more ask you about your kids and tell you about hers.

now we'll gather at the river...

I am hot and awake at 3 in the morning. I am hot because my wife insists that unless the room is 80 degrees it is cold. (This comes from a woman who just a few years ago would go out in 30 degree weather with short-sleeves on. I think the change must be a-happenin'. I digress). All the way up here she would jack the heater up and down, up and down. I had to take my sweater off and ride in my t-shirt. All I needed was a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve and a hound dog in the back to complete the picture. I am awake because we spent 15 hours on the road and even after 3 hours I can still feel it.

Here is Kansas City, icy and snowy. Here is where my in-laws live. Here is because my mother-in-law passed away yesterday afternoon. Some would say she lost the battle at last. I would prefer to think she finally won one.

I will be in the midst of family, making arrangements, buying a winter coat, listening to everyone tell their favorite stories as one does at a time like this. And as sometimes happens I will be escorting her to her final resting place for I have been honored to be asked to be a pall bearer.

I will try to absorb and maybe relate some of this sometime soon. I am not talented in that way and I don't have the words now anyway. I am tired and sad and....happy that she is no longer trapped in her failed body. I am not a religious person, but I know she was to her core. So I choose to think that she is where her belief promised her she would be. I take comfort in that.