Moving Day

Matt is graduating Friday. PhD. The second one in the family. Sally was first. Both of mine should have been second and third, but I walked away from them, unfinished. Not the best decision I ever made, but far from the worst. Matt and his husband are off to Oregon for another chapter in their lives. The challenges of a new job, new town, and new friends will be significant, but they are up to the challenge.
Hal and his wife moved into a new house a week or two ago. They are opening up another chapter of their lives, albeit not as big a chapter as Matt’s and they, too, are up to the challenge.
Sal and I are staying put. Right here. Going nowhere. Well, that doesn’t sound good, does it? We are not going to MOVE again, until it’s time for the dirt nap. I am glad the kids (Effie: Oh Kids!! [Sigh loudly]) are moving around and finding new places to light. I think the price paid for this pelagic kind of lifestyle, though, is a paucity of new friends that become old friends. So my advice to them and anyone in the same circumstance is: One: Try to stay in the same place for at least 25 years. Two: keep in touch with your old friends and try to find a few good new friends. The kind that stick with you no matter what. And be that kind of friend yourself. And finally, stay close with the family. And don’t forget to send money to your parents when they get old. They deserve it and you can afford it.
Image: photobucket.com/.../MovingDay.jpg

News of a Death Today

The email said” Just wanted to let you know that Ben died on April 12th by his own decision. All of us who knew him will miss the Ben we knew.” The guy I knew was a guy you would want to know. This guy had it all, but was bent in some significant way that made him doomed in the end to fail. Educated, polished, easy to talk to and smart. Intelligent too. He went to jail early and redefined himself a few times afterwards. He made it to a Presidency at a State University, and by some measures did well. But his fatal flaw, I guess, couldn’t be overcome. I don’t know how it ended for him. But I do know this: He left a lot of pain behind, both for himself and those who loved him. We will get together some day and talk of him, laugh a little and cry or be sad a little. Most of us moved on long ago, but never forgot him.
I have no belief in an afterlife so I don’t believe Ben will “get his Just Dessert”. What he got, finally, is peace. So rest in peace old friend. I won’t be seeing you any time in the future, but will think of you from time to time, and that is the most anyone can ask for. I’ll focus on the wine, laughs and discussions. Others will remember what they will. And remember this:
"Life is short.
Drink the good wine first"

Image: http://www.jjchandler.com/tombstone

A Drivers Tale.

Ok. I’m writing this so I am not dead. But an inch and a second is all the difference there was between life and death. Here are a few details: Picture a straight 2 lane road in Waukulla County. I am traveling south at 50mph with no traffic in my lane ahead of me. Traveling north is a line of cars. Three down from the lead northbound car a guy (wait, you’ll see) in a blue sedan pulls out and tries to pass all three cars ahead of him. He doesn’t have the power to make it. Meanwhile I see that I am closing with the north bound car too fast for the passer to make it. I slow down and begin to move right to give the passer room to pass on my left. The north bound car does the same. The guy now has enough room to pass. We have effectively turned the road into a tight 3 lanes. But, as I move right, the passer moves to his left and keeps heading directly at my grill. Time to make a decision by someone; I put two wheels onto the shoulder making more room in the middle for the guy to pass. The northbound car does the same. Plenty of room now to complete the pass, but the guy keeps coming straight at me. At the last possible second I debate swerving right, but I remember that that is the best way to lose control of the vehicle. In that same instant the asshole in the blue car (oops, did I give way to angst?) swerves hard to his left and passes me in the ditch on my right, slides sideways, spins and ends up back end up a bank. I see his face as he passes. He is laughing. He passed me by INCHES!!!! If I had moved even slightly right -----
What is the point of this tale? It’s really simple: never forget to tell those you love that you love them, and live every day like it is your last. Yesterday it almost was, and who knows about today?
www.vancouverite.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/...

Why Not Notice the Good?

The student emailed a typical request: Can I come see you during your SSS time to go over my last exam? Sure, I responded, come by whenever you can and we can talk. He came in and sat down at a table and waited for me to finish with another student. I sat with him and got out his exam. I started to go over the answers he missed and he stopped me: “I know I got some things wrong, but would you tell me what I got right first?” Ooops. Teaching moment. But not for him, for me.
You see it is all too easy to notice the things that are wrong while either overlooking the things that are right, or at least not focusing on them. All teachers know that you should focus on the strengths of their students while at the same time bringing along their not-so-strong areas. This student wanted to know that I knew he got some things right. So we went over the exam questions in order, and I reviewed his right answers and we discussed why they were right as well as the other not-so-right answers. He was pleased that I saw him as a student that got a lot right, and not so much wrong.
A lesson for all of us in this? You betcha (Thanks Grandpa Search). The next time you go somewhere and notice something slightly off or downright wrong, skip it until you notice all the right things, then if you must, mention the not-so-right things. I think you will quickly find that the world has more “right” than “wrong” if you try this technique. Hopefully what you won’t hear me say is jeez, you need to lose some weight. Instead I’ll say, Boy, that shirt is really cool. What size is it? Just kidding. Notice the good and forget the bad. We all know when we screw up. What we all need is to know that sometimes we do well.

Image: www.cdc.gov/ulcer/consumer.htm

A Tale of Surprises

She left the office late one night, a good feeling of a job well done. On the way to the parking lot on a fairly dark path she had the distinct feeling she was being followed. She walked faster and the follower kept pace. She gathered the courage to look back, and in her own words: “ I was being followed, and it was my butt!!!”. She did have a notable butt (now much reduced by diet and exercise) and we all had a good laugh over her story. So today I was burning some dead branches, doing the manly thing of poking and rearranging the fire when a puff of smoke got in my eyes and I turned and walked away from the fire. The strange thing was that the smoke followed me, was sort of drafting along with me as I walked. Then another puff of dense smoke right in the eyes. I turned and saw…….no smoke from the fire at all!! Crap!!! My hat was on fire!!!!
I put it out and saved the hat and me from burns, but whoa! that was close. Might have lost what little hair I have left.
Image: Water Butt at http://www.hellenicgarden.co.uk/waterbuttoak-premium.html

Did you know Madieye Diallo?

Humans are capable of the most despicable and degraded behavior imaginable. Hate some ethnic group? Hate some religions? Hate some lifestyles? Hate some genetic disorders? Hate anybody for anything? Well, welcome to the human race. Hate away pal, hate away. You are in hated company. But beyond hatred is irrational and dangerous behavior it causes. The beautiful young man pictured died and was buried. Two hours later a mob dug up his body, spit on it and dumped if front of his parent’s house. Why? He was gay. That’s all. Just gay. What kind of depraved sick people would do something like that you ask? You don’t have to look very far to find them. Reflect back to Pogo and you will find the answer. This is nothing new in the world. In the late 1700’s gay men were stoned to death in London, and lesbians were hung.
An old friend of mine used to say “there are reasons, and then there are real reasons”. I think the real reason for homophobia is the fear of difference. I think that is why most hatred manifests. Someone is different and must be feared and eliminated.
Tolerance is a virtue preached by most or all religions in some ways. Mankind is not biologically a tolerant animal. The core drive and value of survival makes us suspicious of anyone that is different from us. So we hate, and by hating survive. But at what price? Who wants to be hated because they are different? My Mexican friends? My Jewish friends? My gay friends? My black friends? My short friends? My fat friends? My French friends? My, well, you get the point. Everybody is probably hated by someone for something.
See? A human imperative.
So don’t be surprised by the disgusting results of hatred. Rail against it when you can and stop it if you can. Vote it out and pass laws against it and stamp it down. But don’t expect it to go away. Do the right thing and try not to hate anybody for anything. Not easy is it?


Image: http://www.commercialappeal.com/photos/2010/apr/10/163251/

Siempre que te pregunto…

Those few words started something. A grad school buddy sang a few songs in Spanish and with these words began a quest to learn to play and sing “Quizas, Quizas, Quizas” How do you get to Carnegie Hall goes the old joke. And the answer (drum roll) - practice, practice, practice. So I practiced. And got somewhat better, but never as good as Kirsten. There were lots of Cuban chicks in Miami in those days and I figured if I could sing/say a few songs, low and sexy, I could maybe get to know one of them. Didn’t work. Never even had the chance to try. I dated Manuel’s sister, part of the first real wave of Cubans hitting the shores of Biscayne Bay, a few times, but she wanted to learn English. So I tried Russian. Learned a few songs in Russian but never found a Russian chick to try them on. So I tried English. That worked like a charm. Still married to her. See? Never give up, and always tell yourself “Quizas, Quizas, Quizas.”

( Spanish) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qd-uz6_WRtc
(Russian) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aw5L0IdKjps

Image: www.youtube.com/user/enr7que

Grandad Search in 1921 (or so)

In around 1920, Hal Search, my father, entered the Milwaukee School of Engineering and promptly joined the band. The third from the left, back row, with his sax. I found the photo last week by chance and decided to write something. By the time I came around and became sentient he had gotten rid of the sax and occasionally played at playing the piano (my mother's) and singing songs like "The Delaware-Lackawan" (1) and "Abdul Abulbul Amir". (2)
He was able to put away quite a bit of gin (martinis of course) and the more gin the louder and funnier the songs got. He and his sister had a poem they would recite on some occasions where lubrication was available about hunting a "stiped pole cat" (I hunt de cat, I hunt de rat, I hunt de striped polecat. )( couldn't find this one with Google's help). Very funny though. Anyone want to try to find it? They used a sort of Cajun accent. Not very politically correct I guess. But after all it was the times when that wasn't around much yet. He and my mother would join in with "The Cremation of Sam McGee" (3) just for fun, too. Anyway, I thought about him when I saw the band photo and though maybe the boys would enjoy a bit of silliness. Check the links and enjoy.

1.http://www.harrywarren.org/songs/0584.htm
2. http://www.contemplator.com/ireland/abdul.html
3, http://www.wordinfo.info/words/index/info/view_unit/2640/?letter=C&spage=26

Little angels

Have you ever seen such angelic young men? Did you notice the tiny smiles, like they know something nobody else knows? They did. They knew that the priest was a boozer that always filled the chalice just before the end of communion and, of course, drained it because consecrated wine could only be finished by a man standing in apostolic succession. He was a good old guy, though. My brother was an acolyte and I was in the choir. We got to stick out our tongues at each other up on the stage when nobody was looking, and us guys in the choir got to make snide comments about the hats that showed up at the rail on Easter Sunday. We loved going to church in those days. Smells and bells. High Episcopal. I could never figure out the bit in the Apostle’s Creed about believing in the “holy catholic Church”, though. My mother was a lapsed Catholic and very much against anything Catholic. I asked a few times and got the “you will understand this when you are older. Just say it for now.” line. There was always a candle hanging from a chain way above the stage. My mother told me that the candle was the Holy Spirit, and I took that to mean the Holy Ghost (never really got that either), and from then on I was very careful around the Ghost.
But, times change and so did Tom and I. Both lapsed into a kind of non-church mode, then into agnosticism.
I still love to go into churches and feel the spirit of history. Agnostic or not, there is something about an old cathedral or 12th century village church, complete with burials in the floors and walls or an ancient graveyard that gives me a great sense of peace and comfort. Temples too.

Image: Search brothers.

Abandoned: Plymouth and Baby.

The Abandoned Plymouth:
When I last spoke I had just embarrassed a future King of Reptiles after a trip to the ‘glades. On that same trip two very interesting events occurred. One really spooky and one amazing. Amazing first. About a half mile down one of the ditch roads we found an abandoned early 50’s Plymouth sedan. Rusted body, dented fenders, some broken glass and flat tires. The road was impassable to cars when we walked it so who knows when the sedan got dumped there. Now you need to understand something about Fred. He was a major intellect and could logically and with quiet assertiveness talk about almost everything. He was, however, despite owning a VW van, not very mechanically inclined.
I raised the hood of the car and noticed that the battery was still there. We talked for a minute about movies where some abandoned car or plane or boat gets going and gets the good guys out of trouble. I told them I would take a crack at starting the thing. Fred and the others laughed and said un-printable (here) things about my ancestry. I pulled off a few incidental wires, bared the ends, jumped the coil and the solenoid (on that car it is on the firewall) and choked it. It cranked and started with a gush of blue-black smoke and a loud noise, reminiscent of a rusted out or missing muffler. After a few manly “rum rum rum’s” I pulled off the coil wire and took a bow. Applause.

The Abandoned Baby:
That’s when we heard the baby crying. Totally unnerved all of us. A wailing cry of a baby in real trouble. We looked around and tried to find the kid, but although we could hear it perfectly and close by, we couldn’t find it. Then somebody shouted “Here it is. You won’t believe this!!!” We all went to see the baby. No baby in sight. But, a smallish leopard frog caught by a smallish water snake. The frog was caught by one hind leg and swallowed to the crotch. The other leg blocked the snake and it couldn’t be swallowed further. The frog was crying like a baby. Boy were we relieved. I have never heard or heard of another frog making sounds like that since. Just plain spooky. To my shame, I can’t remember if we let the frog go. We should have probably, but I just don’t know. Sign of the times I guess.
Image: : http://www.ctcautoranch.com/Cars/Car%20Sub-Pages/Cars%20Mopar.html