I never thought I'd say this, but I kinda like Ohio. Yeah, I know :D Not believing I'd get the chance to have a real vacation this year, I happily tagged along with Darryl for his business trip to a suburb of Columbus. It's only 400 miles away, so we drove. The drive was great...beautiful country. In fact, as we were joking about how "ugly" it was, I mentioned that no matter which direction we travel from our home, the drive is just gorgeous.
We drove northwest from Fredericksburg through Warrenton and Winchester, along the Skyline Drive area of Shenandoah, then into a forest in West Virginia. Yeah, it just never got ugly, the whole time. Now, mind you, I totally miss the Pacific Ocean...and Yosemite, but, really, much of the HUGE state of California really can't compare to the piece of the East in which we now live. Okay, I still miss Home, but I've discovered that it's definitely possible to love where you live and still not be disrespectful to where your genetic background calls home.
We are staying in a little dive of a hotel in Lancaster, Ohio, an adorable little community about 30 miles southeast of Columbus. After Darryl finishes his meetings today, we are probably going to head to Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania, so that he can show me where he lived when he was in junior high. I've heard lots of stories, so I'm looking forward to seeing it.
I spent all day yesterday finishing up the transcripts I had, but today I'm simply going to do...nothing. I may take a drive, just to see what's out there because I CAN. Last night we went to see a movie. So maybe I'm not doing all the traditional vacation things, but the opportunity to NOT be a mom, to NOT be a laundress, to NOT be a court reporter or transcriptionist, to NOT be a housekeeper: Just what I needed!
Lindsay just came home from two weeks of vacation (one week in Florida and another in Washington with family), and Lauren comes home on Thursday after a week and a half in Washington. It's been a fun summer for them, especially Lauren, who needs the "rest" time to get ready for school, I would imagine. It's been a little more quiet at home for the other kids and for me.
This year has been such a year of growth for me. I've had the opportunity to examine my motivations and my real desires, and most of the time I've liked what I've found. There's been much room for improvement, but I like the road I'm on. Frankly, it would seem such a waste to go through the heartache I've suffered without having a positive outcome on the other side. Not that I'm to the other side yet, but I hope that's what I can see off in the distance....not just a mirage.
I am so grateful for my loved ones. I have been blessed to have experiences and opportunities that have opened my eyes. I appreciate things about my kids that I might not have noticed back in the day. Sunday markes 29 years since I first got married, and I am absolutely not the same person I was back on that day in 1981. In fact, if I could travel in time, I would love to go have a long talk with that young girl. She was scared and shy and way too compliant. But if I hadn't been THAT girl, who would I be today? Seriously, how many of us would want to give up our trials if it meant giving up the person we've become as we've grown up?
On a more temporal note, I went to Wal*Mart yesterday because I'd forgotten to pack enough shirts to wear while we're away. Of course, I packed for Darryl too, and HE had everything he needed :D I found a couple of T-shirts and a pair of shorts to wear. The really exciting part is that the shirts AND the shorts are all size 10 - a size I haven't been able to wear in several years. The shorts are a bit tight right around the waist, but not anything I would have noticed but for the fact that my size 12s have been way to BIG for some time now.
I am so glad that we've been making changes in our lifestyle, and I hope it continues because we both feel so great. Darryl has been losing too, and he's pulling clothes from the back of the closet that he'd given up hope of wearing. He really looks good.
I hear the heat and humidity are coming back to Ohio today, though it's been a fairly humidity-free summer for the locals. I guess I kind of feel bad, because we've obviously brought it with us from Virginia! Humidity: The ONE thing I don't miss when I leave home.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
The Sun Also Rises
I woke up this morning at 5:45. I sometimes hate my internal clock. But I’m really a morning person, so once I’m up and dressed, it’s all good. I mean, when you live in a house full of kids, youngest age 11, the morning may be the only quiet time you get!
Unfortunately, this morning I woke with a headache. I REALLY hate that. In the interest of being positive about it, though, I realize that if I start the day with a headache, I’m pretty sure the rest of the day will only get better, right?
I took some Excedrin, then sat in the chair by my side of the bed, looking at Facebook on my teeny-tiny iPhone screen. Since I live on the East Coast, and most of my friends live in the West, there’s usually a lot of FB activity that’s occurred during the time I was sleeping. As I read several entries that made me smile…some even made me laugh out loud….I realized that out of the corners of my mind I was seeing and hearing something. When I focused, I realized I could hear the joyful chorus of the morning’s birds. I would have missed that had I not been awake so early. By the time the heat and humidity kick in, the birds are usually quiet and hiding somewhere. And the sunrise I could see out my window was breathtaking. I thought of taking a picture, but I realized no picture could really capture how beautiful it was. Again, if you sleep too long, you can’t see a real, live sunrise.
Yesterday I learned that my hubby had been officially offered a job working at Kings Dominion. No, he’s not helping people get on and off a roller coaster. He’s going to be working with their “first aid” department, which is really a lowly title for the people who are there to help others who have an emergency while enjoying the park. Now, don’t get excited. It pays little more than a Wal*Mart greeter’s job, but it’s a fun way to serve others who would really rather not be sick/injured that day. I know he’ll be good at the job. He’s amazing when he puts on his “medic” hat. Having been his patient at least twice (delivering both our babies), and having seen him with other people who were unexpectedly caught up in an accident, I get blown away every time I see him work.
So that leads me off on a tangent. Have you ever noticed how obvious it is to see someone doing something he truly loves? Or something that fits him like a glove? That’s how it is when I see my hubby at work in the EMS field. He’s really good. Not only is he fascinated by all things medical, but he’s really able to make a connection with the patients and make that moment in his life all about them. I can tell you that I’d much rather the worst moment of my life be handled by someone who treats me like an individual in pain rather than by someone who is a burnout and just sees me as the latest annoyance. Our baby is so sweet and compassionate, and she has plans to be a surgeon one day. She is fascinated, as well, by all things medical, so I have a feeling that the future Dr. Barksdale will change lives in a good way :D
And that’s one of the reasons I love what I do. Like I mentioned in my most recent post, almost any witness who is seated before me wishes he or she were somewhere else. That doesn’t count the expert witness who’s charging more than I’m making for the day. But the woman who was in the car accident and is there to detail her injuries and how they’ve affected her life…or the guy who was in the car that hit her and is really sorry he was ever there…those people wish they could have changed anything to make that day never happen. There have been divorce and custody cases that broke my heart. I’ve even reported the deposition of a “guest” of the Virginia Department of Corrections who was being accused of setting the fire to his mother’s townhome which caused his disfiguring injuries. Now, having to be with these people isn’t what I like. What I like is being able to look at them and remember that my JOB is their LIFE. I try to be friendly and kind. I treat them all the same…even the VDC guest. For the little bit of time they are with me, they get my respect and as much thoughtfulness as I can muster. Everybody deserves that, don’t you think?
So now I’m sitting in hubby’s office at 7:21. I’ve been awake forever, it seems. I’ve opened the window to enjoy the sound of the birds and the only cool, dry air I’ll feel all day. While hubby’s on his way back to the station from the hospital (long after his shift was actually over), I’m planning later this morning to drive down to A.P. Hill to take my son in for his shift at the Boy Scout Jamboree (he’s working for a vendor). I love the drive down there, and I’m sure we’ll be able to have the windows down because it’ll still be before noon. Then it’s back into Fred to take my other son in for his French horn lesson. Oddly enough, I have found that I really like horn music, and I never even knew that’s what it was! I like being able to share that with my son, “Hey, hear the horns?!” Somewhere in the middle of the morning, my baby’s friend will come over to spend the day, then my baby will go home with her friend to spend the night and go to church with her family, as hubby and I are….wait for it…..leaving early Sunday morning for Ohio :D
Okay. Let’s take inventory. Up freakishly early for a Saturday morning, having a slight headache, anxious about any number of things? A little annoying. Aware that this little piece of my day and my world is beautiful and happy? Priceless.
Unfortunately, this morning I woke with a headache. I REALLY hate that. In the interest of being positive about it, though, I realize that if I start the day with a headache, I’m pretty sure the rest of the day will only get better, right?
I took some Excedrin, then sat in the chair by my side of the bed, looking at Facebook on my teeny-tiny iPhone screen. Since I live on the East Coast, and most of my friends live in the West, there’s usually a lot of FB activity that’s occurred during the time I was sleeping. As I read several entries that made me smile…some even made me laugh out loud….I realized that out of the corners of my mind I was seeing and hearing something. When I focused, I realized I could hear the joyful chorus of the morning’s birds. I would have missed that had I not been awake so early. By the time the heat and humidity kick in, the birds are usually quiet and hiding somewhere. And the sunrise I could see out my window was breathtaking. I thought of taking a picture, but I realized no picture could really capture how beautiful it was. Again, if you sleep too long, you can’t see a real, live sunrise.
Yesterday I learned that my hubby had been officially offered a job working at Kings Dominion. No, he’s not helping people get on and off a roller coaster. He’s going to be working with their “first aid” department, which is really a lowly title for the people who are there to help others who have an emergency while enjoying the park. Now, don’t get excited. It pays little more than a Wal*Mart greeter’s job, but it’s a fun way to serve others who would really rather not be sick/injured that day. I know he’ll be good at the job. He’s amazing when he puts on his “medic” hat. Having been his patient at least twice (delivering both our babies), and having seen him with other people who were unexpectedly caught up in an accident, I get blown away every time I see him work.
So that leads me off on a tangent. Have you ever noticed how obvious it is to see someone doing something he truly loves? Or something that fits him like a glove? That’s how it is when I see my hubby at work in the EMS field. He’s really good. Not only is he fascinated by all things medical, but he’s really able to make a connection with the patients and make that moment in his life all about them. I can tell you that I’d much rather the worst moment of my life be handled by someone who treats me like an individual in pain rather than by someone who is a burnout and just sees me as the latest annoyance. Our baby is so sweet and compassionate, and she has plans to be a surgeon one day. She is fascinated, as well, by all things medical, so I have a feeling that the future Dr. Barksdale will change lives in a good way :D
And that’s one of the reasons I love what I do. Like I mentioned in my most recent post, almost any witness who is seated before me wishes he or she were somewhere else. That doesn’t count the expert witness who’s charging more than I’m making for the day. But the woman who was in the car accident and is there to detail her injuries and how they’ve affected her life…or the guy who was in the car that hit her and is really sorry he was ever there…those people wish they could have changed anything to make that day never happen. There have been divorce and custody cases that broke my heart. I’ve even reported the deposition of a “guest” of the Virginia Department of Corrections who was being accused of setting the fire to his mother’s townhome which caused his disfiguring injuries. Now, having to be with these people isn’t what I like. What I like is being able to look at them and remember that my JOB is their LIFE. I try to be friendly and kind. I treat them all the same…even the VDC guest. For the little bit of time they are with me, they get my respect and as much thoughtfulness as I can muster. Everybody deserves that, don’t you think?
So now I’m sitting in hubby’s office at 7:21. I’ve been awake forever, it seems. I’ve opened the window to enjoy the sound of the birds and the only cool, dry air I’ll feel all day. While hubby’s on his way back to the station from the hospital (long after his shift was actually over), I’m planning later this morning to drive down to A.P. Hill to take my son in for his shift at the Boy Scout Jamboree (he’s working for a vendor). I love the drive down there, and I’m sure we’ll be able to have the windows down because it’ll still be before noon. Then it’s back into Fred to take my other son in for his French horn lesson. Oddly enough, I have found that I really like horn music, and I never even knew that’s what it was! I like being able to share that with my son, “Hey, hear the horns?!” Somewhere in the middle of the morning, my baby’s friend will come over to spend the day, then my baby will go home with her friend to spend the night and go to church with her family, as hubby and I are….wait for it…..leaving early Sunday morning for Ohio :D
Okay. Let’s take inventory. Up freakishly early for a Saturday morning, having a slight headache, anxious about any number of things? A little annoying. Aware that this little piece of my day and my world is beautiful and happy? Priceless.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The Stuff that Dreams are Made Of
This is posted on both my Facebook and Darryl's, so for Darryl's friends, you should know this is his wife Tracy :D
I just hate nightmares, don’t you? It seems most people have some sort of recurring dream, and more often than not, it’s some nightmare you hope never comes true. You wake up and breathe a HUGE sigh of relief and run off to tell someone about the bad dream you had that you’re so glad wasn’t real. When dissected more fully, we usually discover that there is some anxiety or heartache at the base of it. I suppose if we were to resolve that anxiety, fear, sorrow, whatever it is, the nightmare would go away. I suppose.
Here’s mine: In my nightmare I have a loved one (let’s just say Dream Spouse) who is pretty much your average guy. Some people like him, some people not so much. In fact, he really reminds me of my dad, who’s been gone for 11 years :D
Anyway, the dream is just plodding along when Dream Spouse suddenly gets accused of something he never did (nor would he). I work in the legal system, so…in my dream(s)…it’s easy enough to prove his innocence, despite the fact that it’s supposed to be “innocent until proven guilty.” But in my nightmare, nothing could be further from the truth! He pleads his case to anyone who happens by, but no one will listen. There is not a single person in the pool of prospective jurors who even considers he might be innocent. After all, if one is accused of some misdeed, he must be guilty. After all, where there's smoke, there’s fire, right? I have reported many a session of jury selection, and some people actually think that way!
Dream Spouse fears for his reputation but mostly hurts because the people he thought would give him the benefit of a doubt, at the very least, have turned their backs on him altogether. And then he gets angry. Do you all remember the famous lines from “The Incredible Hulk”? “Please don’t make me angry. You won’t LIKE me when I’m angry!” Well, yeah, it goes that way. He starts with apologies and remorse. He admits that he probably did or said something that would cause feelings to be hurt. Would it be possible for him to make amends? He’s met with refusal and then stony silence. There is no forgiveness to be had. He goes from pleading to venting, which, as in real life, doesn’t really help much. The people who turned their backs on him are now congratulating themselves because, SEE, he must have done ALL that was suggested because see how defensive and angry he’s become? This ranks right up there with: “You MUST be guilty, since you hired a lawyer.”
Oh, don’t worry. I’m in the nightmare too. I wish I could say I’m just a casual observer, but then, it wouldn’t REALLY be a nightmare, would it? Well, other than hurting to see Dream Spouse hurting.
In the nightmare I become Dream Spouse’s biggest cheerleader. I see all the good he does. He is a strong leader in difficult situations. I can hardly believe how smart he is. He shows tremendous compassion for those suffering. He has taken my box of broken dreams and tenderly cared for it, fixing it little by little. He makes me laugh, he makes me cry (usually in a GOOD way), he makes me grateful. He is a human being with frailties and indiosyncracies that drive others crazy. He can be wicked funny or corny, depending on who's listening. But I am bewildered; the more I plead, the more the very same backs are turned to me. Minds have been made up. It seems that, other than in the court of public opinion, no one really wants to serve on a jury.
And then, to make it more chilling, we are before a judge in a familiar setting. I’ve been in many courtrooms in several areas, and this one is much like all the others. The judge seems kindly enough. But then he tells us that he really isn’t interested in hearing any so-called evidence (his phrase). Instead, it’s time for him to render a verdict and issue a sentence. He tells both of us…because it appears that I am on trial too, even though the accusations were never raised against me….to stand. Then he tells us that since the accusations were made, and NO ONE was willing to listen to our side of the story, he must declare that they have a factual basis and that if we were to go to trial, it is likely the jury would find us guilty.
Wait. What?
And then the sentence. For Dream Spouse it is the realization that NO hours of community service could make up for his heinous crime. The judge mentions that it is his opinion that, had my spouse only beaten and berated ME, all would be well. But since my spouse apparently “offended” others but was good to me, he is to be banished for eternity. Oh, and since I’m married to him and refuse to NOT be married to him, I get to hang out with him in that Outer Darkness place. In addition, for the next several years I am to continue hard labor with no gratitude thrown my way. ANYthing that is asked of me, small or large, I am duty bound to do…with a smile on my face and a thank you to those who thrust the work in my hands.
Dream Spouse offers to throw himself on his sword in order to save me. To no avail. It appears that I have proven myself unworthy by willingly standing by his side and loving him (even on those days I don’t LIKE him very much).
I chew on the inside of my lip, pondering all of the beautiful lessons and talks I’ve heard in church. Love one another. Forgive everyone. Extend the hand of fellowship. No, the judge tells me, reading my thoughts. Apparently I was mistaken. The way that everyone who is important to me interprets those wonderful lessons and talks is that if *they* decide someone doesn’t pass whatever test they’ve devised, they are within their rights to turn their backs on him or her. For. Ever. Forgiving others, he tells me, is really a code for enabling them.
So as I begin to stir, I see an hourglass with a crack in it. As I watch, the crack grow larger until sand begins to slip out. Then I see little pictures floating in the air. They seem to have also escaped from the hourglass. Upon closer inspection, I realize that these “pictures” are actually those who turned their backs on us, embracing the joy that can only come from loving human association. Within seconds, all of the sand has poured out of the glass, leaving it empty and broken, useless. There are no pictures left.
And then I wake up. I smile when I realize it was all just a dream. Wait. It was, wasn’t it?
I have known a great void in my life for many years. Since the spring of this year I have been making daily efforts to change my life. I have been reading the scriptures (finished the Book of Mormon…an entire new blog entry!) and remembering to say my prayers. Tithing is no longer a “wish” but a joyful reality. And I have truly been trying to humble myself and love others. That’s right, even those obnoxious attorneys who make my job such a wonder. In the meantime, I’ve been losing everything I ever thought was important in my life.
I remember when my father died, I went to pay a bill for my mom later that day. As I stood in the line, I thought about each of the other people in the line, wondering if they could tell that I had been dealt a mortal blow that very day. I wondered whether I looked any different. It’s been 11 years, and I have changed my thinking to wondering whether any of the people I meet in my life has been dealt a very serious blow that very day. Did the irritable checker in the grocery store have a fight with her husband before she came to work? Did the bank teller just get yelled at by the customer who was in just five minutes ago? It’s very likely that the witness seated before me in a deposition is NOT having the best day ever, and a smile and friendly words from me can only be appreciated. Did the collection agent on the phone just deal with a nasty person before me…wait, I’m still working on being kind to THOSE guys :D
I have a testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand in this life. In fact, I learn something new EVERY time I study it. And THAT is something for which I remain truly grateful. Such a trite phrase. We need better words to describe this type of gratitude. I feel like I’m offering God a macaroni picture and hoping he doesn’t see the glue I spilled in the corner of the frame.
Through the Atonement, each of us….EACH of us has the gift of repentance and forgiveness offered to us. As I partake of the sacrament on Sundays, I remember that and renew my determination to have Christ in my countenance. When my children talk back to me or fight with one another, I don’t turn my back on them and end my association with them. They make my life miserable. And wonderful. At the same time.
I love my family. All of my family. I miss the ones who aren’t around. Every. Single. Day. I want to share corny comics in the funny papers with my dad. At 6:00 in the morning. I….can barely get through this sentence. I want to have my own macaroni pictures on the walls and jelly kisses and Kool-Aid grins like the ones I ensured my parents received from all my babies. I want to know that I can totally screw up. I can hurt someone’s feelings. I can lose my temper. But the next day, when I come to my senses, I can beg forgiveness, and it will be given to me. And I’ll always be ready to return the favor.
I am so very grateful and feel so unworthy to have in my life those who love me and my family, warts and all. You know who you are. And even if you don’t think it could be you, it probably is. Thank you for letting us share this human experience with you. Thank you for teaching us and being happy that we are here too. Can you imagine how wonderful it will be when we get to hang out Later? :D
I just hate nightmares, don’t you? It seems most people have some sort of recurring dream, and more often than not, it’s some nightmare you hope never comes true. You wake up and breathe a HUGE sigh of relief and run off to tell someone about the bad dream you had that you’re so glad wasn’t real. When dissected more fully, we usually discover that there is some anxiety or heartache at the base of it. I suppose if we were to resolve that anxiety, fear, sorrow, whatever it is, the nightmare would go away. I suppose.
Here’s mine: In my nightmare I have a loved one (let’s just say Dream Spouse) who is pretty much your average guy. Some people like him, some people not so much. In fact, he really reminds me of my dad, who’s been gone for 11 years :D
Anyway, the dream is just plodding along when Dream Spouse suddenly gets accused of something he never did (nor would he). I work in the legal system, so…in my dream(s)…it’s easy enough to prove his innocence, despite the fact that it’s supposed to be “innocent until proven guilty.” But in my nightmare, nothing could be further from the truth! He pleads his case to anyone who happens by, but no one will listen. There is not a single person in the pool of prospective jurors who even considers he might be innocent. After all, if one is accused of some misdeed, he must be guilty. After all, where there's smoke, there’s fire, right? I have reported many a session of jury selection, and some people actually think that way!
Dream Spouse fears for his reputation but mostly hurts because the people he thought would give him the benefit of a doubt, at the very least, have turned their backs on him altogether. And then he gets angry. Do you all remember the famous lines from “The Incredible Hulk”? “Please don’t make me angry. You won’t LIKE me when I’m angry!” Well, yeah, it goes that way. He starts with apologies and remorse. He admits that he probably did or said something that would cause feelings to be hurt. Would it be possible for him to make amends? He’s met with refusal and then stony silence. There is no forgiveness to be had. He goes from pleading to venting, which, as in real life, doesn’t really help much. The people who turned their backs on him are now congratulating themselves because, SEE, he must have done ALL that was suggested because see how defensive and angry he’s become? This ranks right up there with: “You MUST be guilty, since you hired a lawyer.”
Oh, don’t worry. I’m in the nightmare too. I wish I could say I’m just a casual observer, but then, it wouldn’t REALLY be a nightmare, would it? Well, other than hurting to see Dream Spouse hurting.
In the nightmare I become Dream Spouse’s biggest cheerleader. I see all the good he does. He is a strong leader in difficult situations. I can hardly believe how smart he is. He shows tremendous compassion for those suffering. He has taken my box of broken dreams and tenderly cared for it, fixing it little by little. He makes me laugh, he makes me cry (usually in a GOOD way), he makes me grateful. He is a human being with frailties and indiosyncracies that drive others crazy. He can be wicked funny or corny, depending on who's listening. But I am bewildered; the more I plead, the more the very same backs are turned to me. Minds have been made up. It seems that, other than in the court of public opinion, no one really wants to serve on a jury.
And then, to make it more chilling, we are before a judge in a familiar setting. I’ve been in many courtrooms in several areas, and this one is much like all the others. The judge seems kindly enough. But then he tells us that he really isn’t interested in hearing any so-called evidence (his phrase). Instead, it’s time for him to render a verdict and issue a sentence. He tells both of us…because it appears that I am on trial too, even though the accusations were never raised against me….to stand. Then he tells us that since the accusations were made, and NO ONE was willing to listen to our side of the story, he must declare that they have a factual basis and that if we were to go to trial, it is likely the jury would find us guilty.
Wait. What?
And then the sentence. For Dream Spouse it is the realization that NO hours of community service could make up for his heinous crime. The judge mentions that it is his opinion that, had my spouse only beaten and berated ME, all would be well. But since my spouse apparently “offended” others but was good to me, he is to be banished for eternity. Oh, and since I’m married to him and refuse to NOT be married to him, I get to hang out with him in that Outer Darkness place. In addition, for the next several years I am to continue hard labor with no gratitude thrown my way. ANYthing that is asked of me, small or large, I am duty bound to do…with a smile on my face and a thank you to those who thrust the work in my hands.
Dream Spouse offers to throw himself on his sword in order to save me. To no avail. It appears that I have proven myself unworthy by willingly standing by his side and loving him (even on those days I don’t LIKE him very much).
I chew on the inside of my lip, pondering all of the beautiful lessons and talks I’ve heard in church. Love one another. Forgive everyone. Extend the hand of fellowship. No, the judge tells me, reading my thoughts. Apparently I was mistaken. The way that everyone who is important to me interprets those wonderful lessons and talks is that if *they* decide someone doesn’t pass whatever test they’ve devised, they are within their rights to turn their backs on him or her. For. Ever. Forgiving others, he tells me, is really a code for enabling them.
So as I begin to stir, I see an hourglass with a crack in it. As I watch, the crack grow larger until sand begins to slip out. Then I see little pictures floating in the air. They seem to have also escaped from the hourglass. Upon closer inspection, I realize that these “pictures” are actually those who turned their backs on us, embracing the joy that can only come from loving human association. Within seconds, all of the sand has poured out of the glass, leaving it empty and broken, useless. There are no pictures left.
And then I wake up. I smile when I realize it was all just a dream. Wait. It was, wasn’t it?
I have known a great void in my life for many years. Since the spring of this year I have been making daily efforts to change my life. I have been reading the scriptures (finished the Book of Mormon…an entire new blog entry!) and remembering to say my prayers. Tithing is no longer a “wish” but a joyful reality. And I have truly been trying to humble myself and love others. That’s right, even those obnoxious attorneys who make my job such a wonder. In the meantime, I’ve been losing everything I ever thought was important in my life.
I remember when my father died, I went to pay a bill for my mom later that day. As I stood in the line, I thought about each of the other people in the line, wondering if they could tell that I had been dealt a mortal blow that very day. I wondered whether I looked any different. It’s been 11 years, and I have changed my thinking to wondering whether any of the people I meet in my life has been dealt a very serious blow that very day. Did the irritable checker in the grocery store have a fight with her husband before she came to work? Did the bank teller just get yelled at by the customer who was in just five minutes ago? It’s very likely that the witness seated before me in a deposition is NOT having the best day ever, and a smile and friendly words from me can only be appreciated. Did the collection agent on the phone just deal with a nasty person before me…wait, I’m still working on being kind to THOSE guys :D
I have a testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand in this life. In fact, I learn something new EVERY time I study it. And THAT is something for which I remain truly grateful. Such a trite phrase. We need better words to describe this type of gratitude. I feel like I’m offering God a macaroni picture and hoping he doesn’t see the glue I spilled in the corner of the frame.
Through the Atonement, each of us….EACH of us has the gift of repentance and forgiveness offered to us. As I partake of the sacrament on Sundays, I remember that and renew my determination to have Christ in my countenance. When my children talk back to me or fight with one another, I don’t turn my back on them and end my association with them. They make my life miserable. And wonderful. At the same time.
I love my family. All of my family. I miss the ones who aren’t around. Every. Single. Day. I want to share corny comics in the funny papers with my dad. At 6:00 in the morning. I….can barely get through this sentence. I want to have my own macaroni pictures on the walls and jelly kisses and Kool-Aid grins like the ones I ensured my parents received from all my babies. I want to know that I can totally screw up. I can hurt someone’s feelings. I can lose my temper. But the next day, when I come to my senses, I can beg forgiveness, and it will be given to me. And I’ll always be ready to return the favor.
I am so very grateful and feel so unworthy to have in my life those who love me and my family, warts and all. You know who you are. And even if you don’t think it could be you, it probably is. Thank you for letting us share this human experience with you. Thank you for teaching us and being happy that we are here too. Can you imagine how wonderful it will be when we get to hang out Later? :D
Thursday, November 19, 2009
If it makes me feel better, isn't that all that matters?
I’ve noticed a trend lately, already prevalent in much of society, but most recently I’ve seen it within my own family and circle of acquaintances. And that’s what brings me here: It really bothers me. :D
My younger son was in the middle of a big verbal argument with my youngest daughter. When they were little, we used to surmise that when they grew older, Kristi would “clean his clock.” Hehehehe…. But anyway, she told him that she didn’t think he could come up with a better insult than she had, so he said something really cruel about her ears. She’s very sensitive about her ears because she hasn’t quite grown into them yet. And he knows that. We call them “Presidential Ears” because they are reminiscent of the president’s ears, though she is MUCH cuter! By the time Darryl and I got on the scene, Kristi was sniffling, Lauren was furious because they had been fighting, and Scott had refused to go to his room. Scott was in full argument mode because, see, he had apologized. He said he had felt bad, so he’d come back and told Kristi he was sorry. But is that really enough?
Another incident involved other people, older and wiser, but no less sensitive than Kristina. One used a public forum (facebook) to vent some feelings she had been carrying for a long time. Unfortunately, it wasn’t her facebook page where she chose to do this, and there are a number of people who saw it who know all parties involved and even more who don’t and are left with only that entry on which to judge our family members. When called on that behavior, the offending person exclaimed, “But I feel so much better now that I got that off my chest!” No apology, no acknowledgment of how others might have been affected. Just an assertion that the “feeling better” far outweighed any burden it might have caused to anyone else.
There are countless other examples in my own personal life. I’m sure I have done the same thing. I hate it when I do that. I don’t want to offend anyone. Even if it is because I am getting something off my chest. How can that be of any benefit to me if my “resolution” comes at the price of another?
I see this all the time in the news and in my work. Many people have the idea that they need to let their feelings out, regardless of who is in the way. We seem to have gone from the “me” generation to the “ONLY me” generation. Some recent egregious examples are Kanye West, Serena Williams, Joe Wilson….
I was born of goodly….completely HUMAN parents. They made plenty of mistakes in their time. From the time I can remember, I was afraid of my dad…then he aggravated me completely….then I felt his behavior was simply unreasonable….then I got married to an even MORE unreasonable man (not talking about Darryl, for those who know him LOL), and I began to appreciate my dad more. I have had the misfortune of seeing that many of my loved friends and family went through horrible experiences in their early years. I realize that, while I felt absolutely picked on, I actually had it really good. I never doubted that my parents loved me. They never did anything to me that was really as awful as I imagined. I have the 20/20 hindsight goggles that you get when you have raised (sort of successfully) four kids to adulthood, and you’re in the process of finishing up the remaining three.
So, yeah, it’s amazing how much softer the edges of my memory are about my father. After all, he’s been gone 10 years already, and I mostly just remember the good things about him. He was a good dad but a better Papa. I think my mom would be in a better place if he were still here, but wouldn’t any wife who loved her husband?
While we’ve generally had a good relationship, I’ve had struggles with my mom over the years, but she is, after all is said and done, still my mother. She had to sacrifice a great deal to raise me and my brother and sister. We are all good people who have raised a good group of children ourselves. I hate it when I get frustrated and say anything that would hurt my mom’s feelings. But that brings me back to the very human makeup I share with my parents. My goal is to look at my mother, my sweetheart, my children, my in-laws, and my friends as the glorious beings they truly are. Each of us has a life fraught with emotional danger. Some of us are much better than others at navigating the waters.
Darryl and I had a talk about this the other day, and I mentioned that I feel like when we get into an argument, and I feel I’ve crossed that imaginary line, it diminishes me as a person. Once said, you can’t truly take back the hurtful comments. That’s not who I am, nor does it truly reflect who I think HE is. He’s a good man…also completely human….who has hurt people in his life, including me. Yet he is the sum of ALL his parts, including the kind, intelligent, funny, fascinating, compassionate, talented parts. So when he hurts my feelings, I may lick my wounds for a while, because I’m certainly not immune to hurt feelings, but I know that he loves me and that no one has ever been such a good match for me. I just remind myself that one day each of us will have the partner we deserve…..and long for. Mind you, the wait isn’t all that bad :D
What I really need to do is figure out how to view MYSELF as a glorious being. I need to recognize that the hurtful things that others say and do on occasion are NOT representative of all of me. I know that I am kind, compassionate, funny, smart, and very sincere. Those parts of me as a whole make me a person worth knowing. I need to live my life more as those parts of myself and less the parts that others find unacceptable.
My hope is that I can resolve to be more kind and more compassionate in my dealings with others. I can’t know what is in the heart and mind of another person. I would want the same from them, so I hope that I can set that example.
My younger son was in the middle of a big verbal argument with my youngest daughter. When they were little, we used to surmise that when they grew older, Kristi would “clean his clock.” Hehehehe…. But anyway, she told him that she didn’t think he could come up with a better insult than she had, so he said something really cruel about her ears. She’s very sensitive about her ears because she hasn’t quite grown into them yet. And he knows that. We call them “Presidential Ears” because they are reminiscent of the president’s ears, though she is MUCH cuter! By the time Darryl and I got on the scene, Kristi was sniffling, Lauren was furious because they had been fighting, and Scott had refused to go to his room. Scott was in full argument mode because, see, he had apologized. He said he had felt bad, so he’d come back and told Kristi he was sorry. But is that really enough?
Another incident involved other people, older and wiser, but no less sensitive than Kristina. One used a public forum (facebook) to vent some feelings she had been carrying for a long time. Unfortunately, it wasn’t her facebook page where she chose to do this, and there are a number of people who saw it who know all parties involved and even more who don’t and are left with only that entry on which to judge our family members. When called on that behavior, the offending person exclaimed, “But I feel so much better now that I got that off my chest!” No apology, no acknowledgment of how others might have been affected. Just an assertion that the “feeling better” far outweighed any burden it might have caused to anyone else.
There are countless other examples in my own personal life. I’m sure I have done the same thing. I hate it when I do that. I don’t want to offend anyone. Even if it is because I am getting something off my chest. How can that be of any benefit to me if my “resolution” comes at the price of another?
I see this all the time in the news and in my work. Many people have the idea that they need to let their feelings out, regardless of who is in the way. We seem to have gone from the “me” generation to the “ONLY me” generation. Some recent egregious examples are Kanye West, Serena Williams, Joe Wilson….
I was born of goodly….completely HUMAN parents. They made plenty of mistakes in their time. From the time I can remember, I was afraid of my dad…then he aggravated me completely….then I felt his behavior was simply unreasonable….then I got married to an even MORE unreasonable man (not talking about Darryl, for those who know him LOL), and I began to appreciate my dad more. I have had the misfortune of seeing that many of my loved friends and family went through horrible experiences in their early years. I realize that, while I felt absolutely picked on, I actually had it really good. I never doubted that my parents loved me. They never did anything to me that was really as awful as I imagined. I have the 20/20 hindsight goggles that you get when you have raised (sort of successfully) four kids to adulthood, and you’re in the process of finishing up the remaining three.
So, yeah, it’s amazing how much softer the edges of my memory are about my father. After all, he’s been gone 10 years already, and I mostly just remember the good things about him. He was a good dad but a better Papa. I think my mom would be in a better place if he were still here, but wouldn’t any wife who loved her husband?
While we’ve generally had a good relationship, I’ve had struggles with my mom over the years, but she is, after all is said and done, still my mother. She had to sacrifice a great deal to raise me and my brother and sister. We are all good people who have raised a good group of children ourselves. I hate it when I get frustrated and say anything that would hurt my mom’s feelings. But that brings me back to the very human makeup I share with my parents. My goal is to look at my mother, my sweetheart, my children, my in-laws, and my friends as the glorious beings they truly are. Each of us has a life fraught with emotional danger. Some of us are much better than others at navigating the waters.
Darryl and I had a talk about this the other day, and I mentioned that I feel like when we get into an argument, and I feel I’ve crossed that imaginary line, it diminishes me as a person. Once said, you can’t truly take back the hurtful comments. That’s not who I am, nor does it truly reflect who I think HE is. He’s a good man…also completely human….who has hurt people in his life, including me. Yet he is the sum of ALL his parts, including the kind, intelligent, funny, fascinating, compassionate, talented parts. So when he hurts my feelings, I may lick my wounds for a while, because I’m certainly not immune to hurt feelings, but I know that he loves me and that no one has ever been such a good match for me. I just remind myself that one day each of us will have the partner we deserve…..and long for. Mind you, the wait isn’t all that bad :D
What I really need to do is figure out how to view MYSELF as a glorious being. I need to recognize that the hurtful things that others say and do on occasion are NOT representative of all of me. I know that I am kind, compassionate, funny, smart, and very sincere. Those parts of me as a whole make me a person worth knowing. I need to live my life more as those parts of myself and less the parts that others find unacceptable.
My hope is that I can resolve to be more kind and more compassionate in my dealings with others. I can’t know what is in the heart and mind of another person. I would want the same from them, so I hope that I can set that example.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Dodging the Bullet
About 2 weeks ago now, I was playing "daddy-daughter softball" with my 9-year-old daughter. This is, of course, turns out to be less about 9 year olds having fun than it is about a bunch of fat, middle-aged dads pretending to play for the Mets while their daughters wander obliviously around the field smelling the dandelions.
I trotted out on field like the pro I just KNEW I had been in some previous life, and took my place playing second base, girding my loins and slapping my fist in my glove, hungry for the "big play." :)
One cute little girl dribbled a grounder past the pitcher, and I ran up on it like the final game of the World Series depended on my speed and overall athletic prowess. As I picked up the ball, I stood up to throw, and realized a tad too late that I had been running on wet grass... with sneakers. As this thought made its' way... slowly... across the synapses of my brain, my feet... both of them... continued straight out in front of me, in one of those slow-motion "Oh-Crap" moments when you realize that your body is not doing what your mind thinks it is. I got great hang time while I hung there... mid-air... kind of like the coyote before he disappears in a cloud down to the canyon floor below.
OK, so I didn't fall to the canyon 200 stories below... OK, so it was only a little over 2 feet... but I landed flat on my back, which complete broke ribs 7 & 8 on my right side. I writhed around in pain for a minute, wondering if I would EVER be able to draw breath again, when several of the dads helped me up. My wife judiciously waited to see if I was OK before she began giggling.
Not only was that embarrassing in the extreme, but it seriously bruised my machismo-laced self image. I got back up, brushed myself off, and determined to "play through the pain." I think now I had transitioned from professional baseball in my mind to professional football, but I digress.
My next chance to redeem myself came when I came up to bat... now, this was SLOW-pitch softball, mind you. I was going to hit it CLEAR outta the park. Redeem myself. Prove that I'm a manly man. Three GLORIOUSLY unsuccessful swings and misses later, I checked my aluminum bat with the utmost scrutiny to see if there somehow had been a hole strategically placed in it as a practical joke. No such luck. Of course, a number of little girls... including my own daughter, who had never played softball before that day in her LIFE... got solid hits.
When I got up to bat again, I decided to throttle back my enthusiasm a bit, and connected enough with the ball to dribble a grounder past the pitcher... and ran like my life depended on it. Picture a Sumu wrestler trying to do the 50-yard dash. It took 15 seconds for the waves in my blubber to stop rolling when I reached 2nd base.
When the next little girl dribbled another base hit, I sprinted for 3rd... only to find that our ex-Bishop's little 9 year old had wandered obliviously into the baseline... and stopped. Not wanting to put his little flower into the ICU by running her over, I nimbly stepped out to the left to kind of "dance" around her. Again, the realization that I was running on wet grass with sneakers darted across the few remaining synapses of my brain as my left foot shot out from under me, forcing me into the splits. OK, THAT one was excruciating. Again, my wife and all the other dads ran out to see what kind of damage I had done to myself, and 2 dads had to practically carry me to the sidelines. One of them helpfully advised that I might want to "sit a few innings out." My leg wouldn't straighten.. at all... and wouldn't bend. Several of the parents there mused out loud as to whether someone had captured all this for later upload to YouTube. I was NOT amused.
So, the result of my foray into the world of athletics after a 30+ year absence was... 1 pulled hamstring, 2 completely broken ribs, and 1 seriously bruised ego.
I lived on Percocets for the next week and a half, and the pain kept getting worse and worse. At first it was mainly my leg. Then my leg started healing, and the ribs started becoming more and more painful until it was difficult to breathe...it just hurt too much. So, on Tuesday of this week, I broke down and went into the ER (where I usually transport patients, so I know them all by name), and had an X-ray taken. The ER, by the way, is $439 just to walk through the door, I found out.
The cute little PA that came in to see me asked what was wrong, and I said, "I think Ribs 7 & 8 are cracked." She gave me that condescending "you're-so-cute" look, and asked me why I thought that. I rattled off the medical signs and symptoms, and told her that I had had broken ribs before. After a Percocet had mellowed me a bit, I had the X-ray taken... which cost me $657. No, I don't have insurance, so I carefully track these things.
After a couple of hours of waiting, the PA came in, and said, "You're scary accurate. It was ribs 7 & 8, and they're complete breaks." I smiled with vindication. And then she shattered my world. A very serious look crossed her face.
"Your X-ray came back abnormal. The radiologist found a shadow on your right lower lobe."
She showed me on the computer monitor where the shadow was... and kept trying to reassure me that it "could be nothing." But she also had to admit that it could be bad. Very bad. She told me that the radiologist suggested that I have a follow-up in "3-6 months." I remember the whole thing being rather surreal... almost as if it weren't happening to me, but to someone else.
I don't remember much of what happened after that... I do remember telling Tracy... again it was surreal... like it was someone else... how could this be happening to ME? I remember going through the motions of going home, trying to get some work done but not being able to concentrate, and then going online and doing research. I didn't come up with anything encouraging.
I called and made an appointment with my doctor, since it didn't make ANY sense to wait 3-6 months for something as potentially lethal as lung cancer. I also called the hospital and asked them to prepare a copy of the x-rays and the final report from the radiologist. I picked the films and the report up bright and early the next day... and read the report out loud;
"Impressions: Density in the right lower lung. Advise PA and Lateral chest radiographs with nipple markers in place to evaluate this region and exclude lung abnormality. Lung abnormality could be due to numerous etiologies to include neoplasm."
The last part stopped me cold in my tracks: "to include neoplasm." Neoplasm is med-speak for cancer.
I went through the rest of the day in a fog... not being able to think clearly about much of anything... but about what the end would be like. Will I suffer? What about my children? How will Tracy make it without me? Am I ready to die? I have so much to do... how long will I be able to function? Where will I be buried? HOW will I be buried? We have no insurance. Tracy had the good sense not to get too rattled until she had more definitive information... I wasn't so rational. I was scared spitless. All of a sudden, my ribs didn't hurt so much anymore.
I wept. I worried. I paced. And I researched. I pretended to work. I pretended to function. I pretended to not want anyone to know, but quickly realized that I didn't have the emotional strength to go through this alone.
I went to my appointment with the doctor, hoping for good news. She didn't offer any. What she did do was to write me a script for another confirmation x-ray at another imaging center. We went straight from the doctor's office to the imaging center, and they took me right in. The x-ray, BTW, cost us a whopping $78... after the hospital had charged us $657 for the same thing. But I digress.
The X-rays and the radiologist's Final Report were due the next morning. Due to rampant miscommunications, however, I didn't reach my doctor until the next afternoon, when they cheerfully reported to my everlasting relief that... the X-rays were normal.
The experience left me changed... at least for now... until the stresses of life shove it to the back of my mind again. I'll never forget that feeling of knowing that I could be dying... and the hopelessness and terror that accompanied that news. It has made me appreciate life that much more.
Now... in a couple of hours, when my heart actually resumes beating, I'll probably go celebrate dodging the biggest bullet of my life so far... hopefully by having a healthy salad somewhere.
I trotted out on field like the pro I just KNEW I had been in some previous life, and took my place playing second base, girding my loins and slapping my fist in my glove, hungry for the "big play." :)
One cute little girl dribbled a grounder past the pitcher, and I ran up on it like the final game of the World Series depended on my speed and overall athletic prowess. As I picked up the ball, I stood up to throw, and realized a tad too late that I had been running on wet grass... with sneakers. As this thought made its' way... slowly... across the synapses of my brain, my feet... both of them... continued straight out in front of me, in one of those slow-motion "Oh-Crap" moments when you realize that your body is not doing what your mind thinks it is. I got great hang time while I hung there... mid-air... kind of like the coyote before he disappears in a cloud down to the canyon floor below.
OK, so I didn't fall to the canyon 200 stories below... OK, so it was only a little over 2 feet... but I landed flat on my back, which complete broke ribs 7 & 8 on my right side. I writhed around in pain for a minute, wondering if I would EVER be able to draw breath again, when several of the dads helped me up. My wife judiciously waited to see if I was OK before she began giggling.
Not only was that embarrassing in the extreme, but it seriously bruised my machismo-laced self image. I got back up, brushed myself off, and determined to "play through the pain." I think now I had transitioned from professional baseball in my mind to professional football, but I digress.
My next chance to redeem myself came when I came up to bat... now, this was SLOW-pitch softball, mind you. I was going to hit it CLEAR outta the park. Redeem myself. Prove that I'm a manly man. Three GLORIOUSLY unsuccessful swings and misses later, I checked my aluminum bat with the utmost scrutiny to see if there somehow had been a hole strategically placed in it as a practical joke. No such luck. Of course, a number of little girls... including my own daughter, who had never played softball before that day in her LIFE... got solid hits.
When I got up to bat again, I decided to throttle back my enthusiasm a bit, and connected enough with the ball to dribble a grounder past the pitcher... and ran like my life depended on it. Picture a Sumu wrestler trying to do the 50-yard dash. It took 15 seconds for the waves in my blubber to stop rolling when I reached 2nd base.
When the next little girl dribbled another base hit, I sprinted for 3rd... only to find that our ex-Bishop's little 9 year old had wandered obliviously into the baseline... and stopped. Not wanting to put his little flower into the ICU by running her over, I nimbly stepped out to the left to kind of "dance" around her. Again, the realization that I was running on wet grass with sneakers darted across the few remaining synapses of my brain as my left foot shot out from under me, forcing me into the splits. OK, THAT one was excruciating. Again, my wife and all the other dads ran out to see what kind of damage I had done to myself, and 2 dads had to practically carry me to the sidelines. One of them helpfully advised that I might want to "sit a few innings out." My leg wouldn't straighten.. at all... and wouldn't bend. Several of the parents there mused out loud as to whether someone had captured all this for later upload to YouTube. I was NOT amused.
So, the result of my foray into the world of athletics after a 30+ year absence was... 1 pulled hamstring, 2 completely broken ribs, and 1 seriously bruised ego.
I lived on Percocets for the next week and a half, and the pain kept getting worse and worse. At first it was mainly my leg. Then my leg started healing, and the ribs started becoming more and more painful until it was difficult to breathe...it just hurt too much. So, on Tuesday of this week, I broke down and went into the ER (where I usually transport patients, so I know them all by name), and had an X-ray taken. The ER, by the way, is $439 just to walk through the door, I found out.
The cute little PA that came in to see me asked what was wrong, and I said, "I think Ribs 7 & 8 are cracked." She gave me that condescending "you're-so-cute" look, and asked me why I thought that. I rattled off the medical signs and symptoms, and told her that I had had broken ribs before. After a Percocet had mellowed me a bit, I had the X-ray taken... which cost me $657. No, I don't have insurance, so I carefully track these things.
After a couple of hours of waiting, the PA came in, and said, "You're scary accurate. It was ribs 7 & 8, and they're complete breaks." I smiled with vindication. And then she shattered my world. A very serious look crossed her face.
"Your X-ray came back abnormal. The radiologist found a shadow on your right lower lobe."
She showed me on the computer monitor where the shadow was... and kept trying to reassure me that it "could be nothing." But she also had to admit that it could be bad. Very bad. She told me that the radiologist suggested that I have a follow-up in "3-6 months." I remember the whole thing being rather surreal... almost as if it weren't happening to me, but to someone else.
I don't remember much of what happened after that... I do remember telling Tracy... again it was surreal... like it was someone else... how could this be happening to ME? I remember going through the motions of going home, trying to get some work done but not being able to concentrate, and then going online and doing research. I didn't come up with anything encouraging.
I called and made an appointment with my doctor, since it didn't make ANY sense to wait 3-6 months for something as potentially lethal as lung cancer. I also called the hospital and asked them to prepare a copy of the x-rays and the final report from the radiologist. I picked the films and the report up bright and early the next day... and read the report out loud;
"Impressions: Density in the right lower lung. Advise PA and Lateral chest radiographs with nipple markers in place to evaluate this region and exclude lung abnormality. Lung abnormality could be due to numerous etiologies to include neoplasm."
The last part stopped me cold in my tracks: "to include neoplasm." Neoplasm is med-speak for cancer.
I went through the rest of the day in a fog... not being able to think clearly about much of anything... but about what the end would be like. Will I suffer? What about my children? How will Tracy make it without me? Am I ready to die? I have so much to do... how long will I be able to function? Where will I be buried? HOW will I be buried? We have no insurance. Tracy had the good sense not to get too rattled until she had more definitive information... I wasn't so rational. I was scared spitless. All of a sudden, my ribs didn't hurt so much anymore.
I wept. I worried. I paced. And I researched. I pretended to work. I pretended to function. I pretended to not want anyone to know, but quickly realized that I didn't have the emotional strength to go through this alone.
I went to my appointment with the doctor, hoping for good news. She didn't offer any. What she did do was to write me a script for another confirmation x-ray at another imaging center. We went straight from the doctor's office to the imaging center, and they took me right in. The x-ray, BTW, cost us a whopping $78... after the hospital had charged us $657 for the same thing. But I digress.
The X-rays and the radiologist's Final Report were due the next morning. Due to rampant miscommunications, however, I didn't reach my doctor until the next afternoon, when they cheerfully reported to my everlasting relief that... the X-rays were normal.
The experience left me changed... at least for now... until the stresses of life shove it to the back of my mind again. I'll never forget that feeling of knowing that I could be dying... and the hopelessness and terror that accompanied that news. It has made me appreciate life that much more.
Now... in a couple of hours, when my heart actually resumes beating, I'll probably go celebrate dodging the biggest bullet of my life so far... hopefully by having a healthy salad somewhere.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
When Pigs Fly (Or Swine Flu)
I've been watching the hype on the Swine Flu for some time now, and am more then mildly amused at the near-hysteria it caused, and the utter non-issue it has since become. And, to be honest, I've had to raise an eyebrow at some of the circumstances behind the flurry of hand-wringing that has accompanied it as it has spread.
Let's take a look under the hospital gown of this panic-infested disease, keeping in mind that the venerable WHO shrieked hysterically when the first cases were reported, and gave Hamthrax it's next-to-highest "warning level"... Level 5... which means that a pandemic is "imminent." That doesn't mean that it COULD happen... it means that it WILL. What, exactly, *IS* a "pandemic"? With no small amount of irony, the word "pandemic" comes from the Greek "pan," which literally means "all," and "demos," which means "people." Pandemic means, literally, "all people."
Now... weeks after this shrieking warning blared its way through the airwaves, where are we? How bad is it? Do we have areas roped off with barbed wire, guard dogs, and tanks a la "Outbreak"? Not so much.
As of today's date, there have been 4,694 cases of swine flu reported... WORLD-WIDE. To give you some perspective, that's ONE in every 1.3 MILLION people. And deaths? So far there have been... wait for it... 48. World-wide. That's one in every 125 MILLION people.
Now... according to the Royal Aeronautical Society, there are approx. 24,000 deaths each year from LIGHTNING strikes. That means you have a 500 times GREATER chance of getting killed by lightning than you do of dying from Hamthrax. Or, to put a finer point on it, you are 36,125 TIMES more likely to die of... say... "runaway diarrhea" than Swine Flu. In fact, you are 20 TIMES more likely to get eaten by a tiger than you are to die of the Swine Flu. And no, I'm not making this up. And yet, curiously, I have yet to see the WHO raise The Trots to a Level 5 Pandemic Panic.
Now... if you REALLY wanna talk "pandemic," let's review the numbers of the Influenza Pandemic in 1918-1919. Estimates on that one range from 13 to 20 MILLION deaths world-wide. And here we are, reduced to a quivering, panic-stricken puddle over... 48 deaths.
So, to Enquiring Minds everywhere, the question is dutifully begged, "Why, then, all the hysteria over Hamthrax"?
There are many reasons, of course. We have become far more reactionary as a people than our stronger, more hearty predecessors. And then one must consider the old standby villain... the Almighty Buck.
Not to point fingers carelessly (and lord knows Big Pharmaceuticals would NEVER pull anything remotely shady), but consider our benevolent "friend," Hoffman-La Roche Pharmaceuticals... maker of Tamiflu, the only effective flu vaccine on the market. In March of 2009, the Swine Flu was discovered in Mexico, and was ultimately traced back to a 4-year-old boy on a pig farm there. Shares of Hoffman-La Roche were the lowest they had been in the last 5 years... $26.50/share. Fast-forward one month to April 10, when the WHO inexplicably raised Hamthrax to a "Level 5" outbreak... and La Roche shares shot up to $35.05/share for a one month share increase of over 25%. Not bad, considering that the lion's share of the profit on this drug had already been realized when La Roche raked in billions over the last 5 years by fear-mongering governments world-wide to stockpile millions of doses of the vaccine, which the helpful La Roche people strongly warned would "not be nearly enough" to handle the swine flu "pandemic." How magnanimous of them. Imagine the dismay in the boardroom when the numbers weren't nearly as dire as they must've hoped. If you want to see just how dismayed they are, look at where their stock went AFTER the "pandemic" didn't even reach "getting-eaten-by-a-tiger" levels.
Oh, well. Maybe I'm just becoming cynical in my old age. Or maybe there's something I'm missing here. I don't know. You decide. I'm not feeling too well.
Let's take a look under the hospital gown of this panic-infested disease, keeping in mind that the venerable WHO shrieked hysterically when the first cases were reported, and gave Hamthrax it's next-to-highest "warning level"... Level 5... which means that a pandemic is "imminent." That doesn't mean that it COULD happen... it means that it WILL. What, exactly, *IS* a "pandemic"? With no small amount of irony, the word "pandemic" comes from the Greek "pan," which literally means "all," and "demos," which means "people." Pandemic means, literally, "all people."
Now... weeks after this shrieking warning blared its way through the airwaves, where are we? How bad is it? Do we have areas roped off with barbed wire, guard dogs, and tanks a la "Outbreak"? Not so much.
As of today's date, there have been 4,694 cases of swine flu reported... WORLD-WIDE. To give you some perspective, that's ONE in every 1.3 MILLION people. And deaths? So far there have been... wait for it... 48. World-wide. That's one in every 125 MILLION people.
Now... according to the Royal Aeronautical Society, there are approx. 24,000 deaths each year from LIGHTNING strikes. That means you have a 500 times GREATER chance of getting killed by lightning than you do of dying from Hamthrax. Or, to put a finer point on it, you are 36,125 TIMES more likely to die of... say... "runaway diarrhea" than Swine Flu. In fact, you are 20 TIMES more likely to get eaten by a tiger than you are to die of the Swine Flu. And no, I'm not making this up. And yet, curiously, I have yet to see the WHO raise The Trots to a Level 5 Pandemic Panic.
Now... if you REALLY wanna talk "pandemic," let's review the numbers of the Influenza Pandemic in 1918-1919. Estimates on that one range from 13 to 20 MILLION deaths world-wide. And here we are, reduced to a quivering, panic-stricken puddle over... 48 deaths.
So, to Enquiring Minds everywhere, the question is dutifully begged, "Why, then, all the hysteria over Hamthrax"?
There are many reasons, of course. We have become far more reactionary as a people than our stronger, more hearty predecessors. And then one must consider the old standby villain... the Almighty Buck.
Not to point fingers carelessly (and lord knows Big Pharmaceuticals would NEVER pull anything remotely shady), but consider our benevolent "friend," Hoffman-La Roche Pharmaceuticals... maker of Tamiflu, the only effective flu vaccine on the market. In March of 2009, the Swine Flu was discovered in Mexico, and was ultimately traced back to a 4-year-old boy on a pig farm there. Shares of Hoffman-La Roche were the lowest they had been in the last 5 years... $26.50/share. Fast-forward one month to April 10, when the WHO inexplicably raised Hamthrax to a "Level 5" outbreak... and La Roche shares shot up to $35.05/share for a one month share increase of over 25%. Not bad, considering that the lion's share of the profit on this drug had already been realized when La Roche raked in billions over the last 5 years by fear-mongering governments world-wide to stockpile millions of doses of the vaccine, which the helpful La Roche people strongly warned would "not be nearly enough" to handle the swine flu "pandemic." How magnanimous of them. Imagine the dismay in the boardroom when the numbers weren't nearly as dire as they must've hoped. If you want to see just how dismayed they are, look at where their stock went AFTER the "pandemic" didn't even reach "getting-eaten-by-a-tiger" levels.
Oh, well. Maybe I'm just becoming cynical in my old age. Or maybe there's something I'm missing here. I don't know. You decide. I'm not feeling too well.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
The REAL Miss USA
Just when you think you've passed the last pothole on the road of sound judgment and logic, out pops flamboyant gay "celebrity" blogger Perez Hilton and trashes the suspension on your SUV. I know I've sounded off on this before, but the events of the last week have just taken my breath away. So here I go again.
You may have seen what I'm talking about. The Miss USA pageant. Or maybe you missed it. Doesn't matter. I don't follow beauty pageants generally by virtue of the fact that they smack of meat-market sexism that rivals such deeply intellectual fare as "the Batchelor" and "Wife Swap" on the substance-o-meter. What piqued my interested in this one was the set-up question that Hilton intentionally dropped in the lap of Miss California, Carrie Prejean.
Hilton, aka Mario Armando Lavandeira, Jr. (his real name), openly stated that he set up the unwitting beauty contestant to have a national forum to bring this issue to the forefront. In other words, he hijacked this contest... which has NOTHING whatsoever to do with gay rights or gay marriage, to advance his own selfish agenda, and bring it before a "national audience." And Hilton personally has no moral or ethical problem doing so. You see, for gay rights activists, there is nothing that could be possibly unethical in advancing their "cause." There is no act too brazen, no lie too bold, no fraud too despicable, no sleaze too slimy. There are simply no holds barred in their quest to advance their agenda. Apparently, boundaries, ethics, constraint, diplomacy, etc. are for the OTHER side. Not them. After all, the end justifies the means, right? Those who oppose gay marriage dare not step out of line... or else. But PROPONENTS? Anything goes. The hypocrisy here is stunning and unbelievable. And completely unacceptable to us as a nation.
And as far as this loaded question goes, there was obviously no acceptable answer but one. In a stunningly brazen move, this inappropriate question was asked, with the prior approval of pageant organizer Lewis (who is also gay), deliberately to throw the contest the way Hilton and his conspirators wanted it to go, knowing that Prejean was a Christian, as well as to steal the spotlight from those who rightfully earned it... to HIM... and the cause he embraces so passionately. For Hilton, the entire pageant was simply a convenient vehicle to roughly shove aside the relevant purpose of the pageant to openly advance gay marriage... with some annoying girls thrown in for looks... pun intended. What was really revealing were the CHEERS from the audience that accompanied Prejean's statement... which Hilton then LIED about on Larry King and tried lamely to pretend that they were actually "boos."
Hilton sunk to an all-time head-scratching low when asked why he asked such a loaded question in such in inappropriate forum... his answer? "I thought it was relevant." Huh? At a beauty pageant? Hilton went on to explain that in HIS view, Miss USA should "represent ALL of us." Apparently, there is no room for conviction in Hilton's world, if it disagrees with his. One must honestly ask why Hilton himself isn't willing to take his own advice, reel in his invective, and be content to respect the "ALL of us" who disagree with HIM and his precious "cause"?
Prejean noted, quite correctly it seems, that the honest belief she shared (which is what Hilton asked, after all), cost her the Miss USA crown. And you'd have to be inhabiting the basement apartment under the closest rock not to agree. What was even more jaw-dropping was the fact that the pageant organizer agreed with Hilton that Prejean should not have been crowned Miss USA, based solely on her beliefs on gay marriage. WHAT???!!! So much for objectivity and fairness. Apparently, the Miss USA Pageant has jettisoned the "beauty" part for the sake of only naming someone who was supportive of the organizer's gay agenda. What's wrong with this picture? We have arrived at the ultimate precipice of absurdity... where a beauty pageant's beauty, grace, poise, and intelligence are disregarded, honest well-thought-out, well-expressed opinion is discouraged, and shallow, politically-correct pandoring pablum is exalted as the ultimate goal for the optimal "Miss USA."
The comically ridiculous part of all this came in an interview that Hilton gave on Larry King, wherein he stated that by honestly stating her beliefs (which statistically a vast majority of the population share, by the way), that she was being "divisive," and that she somehow wasn't "MY Miss USA," representing "the rest of America," such as "gays and lesbians and their families." That's funny. I somehow didn't realize that gays and lesbians represented "America." Apparently Hilton has never read a poll before, nor did he pay much attention to the statistics behind the decisive victory of Prop 8 in California... one of the most gay-friendly states in the nation. Nor has he paid attention to the myriad of national polls that have been conducted that have clearly outlined just exactly who the majority is on this issue. Poor dear. He probably doesn't realize that gays comprise a tiny minority in this country... and a minority whose public image is deteriorating at warp speed for just such antics as Hilton has displayed here.
The end result of this mess is that Hilton obtained far more exposure than he (or his cause) deserves, and a qualified, beautiful, courageous young woman was denied a crown that she most assuredly deserved... all because she had the strength, courage, and moral conviction to answer a set-up question honestly and with conviction. God bless her.
Fortunately, the majority in this country can see this ham-fisted, openly biased morality-bashing for what it was, and quietly acknowledge Carrie Prejean as the REAL Miss USA this year.
And the only real LOSER here.. is Mario Armando Lavandeira, Jr., and the other morally and ethically bankrupt screeching, whining coalition of homosexuals and lesbians who insist that lying, fraud, dishonestly, and deception are justifiable strategies for forcing their views on a majority who have clearly rejected them. We can only hope that NAMBLA isn't waiting in the wings, studying the gay rights playbook, and planning their own campaign.
You may have seen what I'm talking about. The Miss USA pageant. Or maybe you missed it. Doesn't matter. I don't follow beauty pageants generally by virtue of the fact that they smack of meat-market sexism that rivals such deeply intellectual fare as "the Batchelor" and "Wife Swap" on the substance-o-meter. What piqued my interested in this one was the set-up question that Hilton intentionally dropped in the lap of Miss California, Carrie Prejean.
Hilton, aka Mario Armando Lavandeira, Jr. (his real name), openly stated that he set up the unwitting beauty contestant to have a national forum to bring this issue to the forefront. In other words, he hijacked this contest... which has NOTHING whatsoever to do with gay rights or gay marriage, to advance his own selfish agenda, and bring it before a "national audience." And Hilton personally has no moral or ethical problem doing so. You see, for gay rights activists, there is nothing that could be possibly unethical in advancing their "cause." There is no act too brazen, no lie too bold, no fraud too despicable, no sleaze too slimy. There are simply no holds barred in their quest to advance their agenda. Apparently, boundaries, ethics, constraint, diplomacy, etc. are for the OTHER side. Not them. After all, the end justifies the means, right? Those who oppose gay marriage dare not step out of line... or else. But PROPONENTS? Anything goes. The hypocrisy here is stunning and unbelievable. And completely unacceptable to us as a nation.
And as far as this loaded question goes, there was obviously no acceptable answer but one. In a stunningly brazen move, this inappropriate question was asked, with the prior approval of pageant organizer Lewis (who is also gay), deliberately to throw the contest the way Hilton and his conspirators wanted it to go, knowing that Prejean was a Christian, as well as to steal the spotlight from those who rightfully earned it... to HIM... and the cause he embraces so passionately. For Hilton, the entire pageant was simply a convenient vehicle to roughly shove aside the relevant purpose of the pageant to openly advance gay marriage... with some annoying girls thrown in for looks... pun intended. What was really revealing were the CHEERS from the audience that accompanied Prejean's statement... which Hilton then LIED about on Larry King and tried lamely to pretend that they were actually "boos."
Hilton sunk to an all-time head-scratching low when asked why he asked such a loaded question in such in inappropriate forum... his answer? "I thought it was relevant." Huh? At a beauty pageant? Hilton went on to explain that in HIS view, Miss USA should "represent ALL of us." Apparently, there is no room for conviction in Hilton's world, if it disagrees with his. One must honestly ask why Hilton himself isn't willing to take his own advice, reel in his invective, and be content to respect the "ALL of us" who disagree with HIM and his precious "cause"?
Prejean noted, quite correctly it seems, that the honest belief she shared (which is what Hilton asked, after all), cost her the Miss USA crown. And you'd have to be inhabiting the basement apartment under the closest rock not to agree. What was even more jaw-dropping was the fact that the pageant organizer agreed with Hilton that Prejean should not have been crowned Miss USA, based solely on her beliefs on gay marriage. WHAT???!!! So much for objectivity and fairness. Apparently, the Miss USA Pageant has jettisoned the "beauty" part for the sake of only naming someone who was supportive of the organizer's gay agenda. What's wrong with this picture? We have arrived at the ultimate precipice of absurdity... where a beauty pageant's beauty, grace, poise, and intelligence are disregarded, honest well-thought-out, well-expressed opinion is discouraged, and shallow, politically-correct pandoring pablum is exalted as the ultimate goal for the optimal "Miss USA."
The comically ridiculous part of all this came in an interview that Hilton gave on Larry King, wherein he stated that by honestly stating her beliefs (which statistically a vast majority of the population share, by the way), that she was being "divisive," and that she somehow wasn't "MY Miss USA," representing "the rest of America," such as "gays and lesbians and their families." That's funny. I somehow didn't realize that gays and lesbians represented "America." Apparently Hilton has never read a poll before, nor did he pay much attention to the statistics behind the decisive victory of Prop 8 in California... one of the most gay-friendly states in the nation. Nor has he paid attention to the myriad of national polls that have been conducted that have clearly outlined just exactly who the majority is on this issue. Poor dear. He probably doesn't realize that gays comprise a tiny minority in this country... and a minority whose public image is deteriorating at warp speed for just such antics as Hilton has displayed here.
The end result of this mess is that Hilton obtained far more exposure than he (or his cause) deserves, and a qualified, beautiful, courageous young woman was denied a crown that she most assuredly deserved... all because she had the strength, courage, and moral conviction to answer a set-up question honestly and with conviction. God bless her.
Fortunately, the majority in this country can see this ham-fisted, openly biased morality-bashing for what it was, and quietly acknowledge Carrie Prejean as the REAL Miss USA this year.
And the only real LOSER here.. is Mario Armando Lavandeira, Jr., and the other morally and ethically bankrupt screeching, whining coalition of homosexuals and lesbians who insist that lying, fraud, dishonestly, and deception are justifiable strategies for forcing their views on a majority who have clearly rejected them. We can only hope that NAMBLA isn't waiting in the wings, studying the gay rights playbook, and planning their own campaign.
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