Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Another Hero
Can't say I'm huge fan of Cramer, but I am of Ford CEO Alan Mulally. This guy is incredible. He's completely turned Ford around after having done the same at Boeing. And without the Govt. bailout money.
Watch this interview if you want to see what's right with this country and it's capitalist system.
Monday, May 5, 2008
The Virginia Gold Cup
Went the the Virginia Gold Cup races for the first time in 22 years this past Saturday.
Some things have changed. The last time I was there, it was the first first year at the new course at Old Tavern/The Plains. I was a single, second year school teacher who got in free as a member of the Warrenton Jaycees and, thus, spent most of the day parking cars.
This time round we splurged and bought a spot on the rail. While there, I texted #2 son to see how his SATs had gone that morning. #1 son took pictures with his cell phone and ran into a couple University of Michigan cohorts (they're everywhere) who noticed my Big House hat. Seems there were one or two fewer races this time and since they moved the Ky Derby to 6:00, there was not the same great feel of stopping the Gold Cup races to listen to the Derby on the radio. The Jumbotrons are new. The Blackwater parachute team did a great job presenting the colors.
Some things haven't changed at all. #3 son fell asleep in the chair and awoke with a sunburn. Wifey, too, was nicely freckled by the sun. There were plenty of handsome sun dresses, a smattering of eye-catching ladies' hats, an extravagant number of fancy tailgate spreads, and, as always, plenty of amusing people to watch. Many of the the college kids and those freshly-out were too busy getting hammered to watch any of the races, but they were having fun and I didn't notice one who ever lost his manners. Our neighbors along the rail were very gracious.
And . . . there on the near horizon--Wildcat Mountain, comforting us with its presence.
All very polite, all very classy. We'll have to renew for next year.
Some things have changed. The last time I was there, it was the first first year at the new course at Old Tavern/The Plains. I was a single, second year school teacher who got in free as a member of the Warrenton Jaycees and, thus, spent most of the day parking cars.
This time round we splurged and bought a spot on the rail. While there, I texted #2 son to see how his SATs had gone that morning. #1 son took pictures with his cell phone and ran into a couple University of Michigan cohorts (they're everywhere) who noticed my Big House hat. Seems there were one or two fewer races this time and since they moved the Ky Derby to 6:00, there was not the same great feel of stopping the Gold Cup races to listen to the Derby on the radio. The Jumbotrons are new. The Blackwater parachute team did a great job presenting the colors.
Some things haven't changed at all. #3 son fell asleep in the chair and awoke with a sunburn. Wifey, too, was nicely freckled by the sun. There were plenty of handsome sun dresses, a smattering of eye-catching ladies' hats, an extravagant number of fancy tailgate spreads, and, as always, plenty of amusing people to watch. Many of the the college kids and those freshly-out were too busy getting hammered to watch any of the races, but they were having fun and I didn't notice one who ever lost his manners. Our neighbors along the rail were very gracious.
And . . . there on the near horizon--Wildcat Mountain, comforting us with its presence.
All very polite, all very classy. We'll have to renew for next year.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
The Pain
As the old adage goes, it wasn't the fall that hurt, it was hitting the ground.
My brother the war hero helicopter pilot from Desert Storm says that when helicopters crash it's never one thing. There are always enough safe guards to catch any single mistake. Crashes only happen after a string of failures. (Same thing with revolutions and elections, but that's for discussion on another day.)
In my case, I decided to clean the gutters but it was raining so (1) the paved driveway was slippery wet. The ladder was an old (2) piece-of-crap extension ladder that, if I remember correctly, I picked up for free when I bought an old piece-of-crap house to rehab. I weigh (3) about 250 pounds. I went in to get my 16 year old son to hold the ladder, but he had fallen asleep in front of the TV and looked very peaceful. So (4) I let him sleep. I was only up about four or five rungs, I guess, holding on to the ladder (5) with one hand and (6) trying to stretch the hose up off the ground with the other. I, of course, have been known once or twice (7) not to listen to my wife who suggested once, maybe twice in the past that we should hire cheap immigrant labor to do this, guys who generally weigh only about 140 or 150 pounds and do this sort of thing every day. I, however, too often am (8) a little tight with a penny.
So down I went. A string of little things resulting in complete system failure.
Two broken wrists and a compression fracture of the L-1 vertebrae (tho, that may have been a fracture from an old high school injury that was merely aggravated).
And boy did it hurt. For two days, oxycontin wasn't even good enough to dim the pain.
But I surprised myself. Good Taoist that I guess I've become, it has been somewhat of an adventure in a very odd way. It's all about attitude, taking the bad with the good. I've been pretty lucky in life as far as the health goes. A concussion here and there, the back injury when wrestling in high school, sore knees now and again, and a heel problem for a while. But nothing like this. It really hurt.
For some reason I kept thinking of those who suffered in the Hanoi Hilton. James Stockdale and John McCain are the two whose accounts I've read. I could not imagine the will it took for them to endure years of this sort of pain--broken bones, separated shoulders, hours of beatings, the manipulation of injuries for added effect. Medical treatment withheld and for years. I was up and around in a couple days. But these guys. . . . what horror. Lucky me, I had oxycontin, then vicodin, and the comfort of knowing my doctor was a phone call away. I knew it would be over soon. Stockdale, McCain, and company faced, at the time, a less certain future. Hard to imagine.
So, while it did hurt, it was, like I say, an odd sort of adventure. Learning how to get out of bed. How to brush the teeth, button the pants, eventually how to turn the cars keys to start the car and how to open a jar. Shaking hands was real painful for a while but it seemed that every time I went to shake, it was too late before I remembered it was going to hurt and then I had to be too manly to show in any way that it hurt once I did shake.
The funniest thing? It gave me great satisfaction in an odd way to let people help me. Wifey was up all night one night waiting for me to get out of surgery and then home from work for three days. Middle son actually drove me to the hospital (after I woke him from his nap) and he and number three son were very sweet and caring during my recovery, helpful and with never a complaint. Dad was here for a couple days and then the in-laws for a few more. I got lots of cards, calls from two different minsters, a flurry of concerned emails, and more hugs than ever. It's just one of those things, one of those really good things: they were all happy to help. And I know that they know that, had the shoe been on the other foot, I'd have been happy to help them--and downright angry if not given the opportunity to help.
That's what it's all about, folks.
So thanks go out to all. I coulda really broken my back, coulda cracked my head like a three day old jack-o-lantern. Economically, I could be in a position where laid up means out of work, where the bills would be devastating, where there is not this wonderful family-and-beyond network of support. Yes, yes, it could have been worse.
My brother the war hero helicopter pilot from Desert Storm says that when helicopters crash it's never one thing. There are always enough safe guards to catch any single mistake. Crashes only happen after a string of failures. (Same thing with revolutions and elections, but that's for discussion on another day.)
In my case, I decided to clean the gutters but it was raining so (1) the paved driveway was slippery wet. The ladder was an old (2) piece-of-crap extension ladder that, if I remember correctly, I picked up for free when I bought an old piece-of-crap house to rehab. I weigh (3) about 250 pounds. I went in to get my 16 year old son to hold the ladder, but he had fallen asleep in front of the TV and looked very peaceful. So (4) I let him sleep. I was only up about four or five rungs, I guess, holding on to the ladder (5) with one hand and (6) trying to stretch the hose up off the ground with the other. I, of course, have been known once or twice (7) not to listen to my wife who suggested once, maybe twice in the past that we should hire cheap immigrant labor to do this, guys who generally weigh only about 140 or 150 pounds and do this sort of thing every day. I, however, too often am (8) a little tight with a penny.
So down I went. A string of little things resulting in complete system failure.
Two broken wrists and a compression fracture of the L-1 vertebrae (tho, that may have been a fracture from an old high school injury that was merely aggravated).
And boy did it hurt. For two days, oxycontin wasn't even good enough to dim the pain.
But I surprised myself. Good Taoist that I guess I've become, it has been somewhat of an adventure in a very odd way. It's all about attitude, taking the bad with the good. I've been pretty lucky in life as far as the health goes. A concussion here and there, the back injury when wrestling in high school, sore knees now and again, and a heel problem for a while. But nothing like this. It really hurt.
For some reason I kept thinking of those who suffered in the Hanoi Hilton. James Stockdale and John McCain are the two whose accounts I've read. I could not imagine the will it took for them to endure years of this sort of pain--broken bones, separated shoulders, hours of beatings, the manipulation of injuries for added effect. Medical treatment withheld and for years. I was up and around in a couple days. But these guys. . . . what horror. Lucky me, I had oxycontin, then vicodin, and the comfort of knowing my doctor was a phone call away. I knew it would be over soon. Stockdale, McCain, and company faced, at the time, a less certain future. Hard to imagine.
So, while it did hurt, it was, like I say, an odd sort of adventure. Learning how to get out of bed. How to brush the teeth, button the pants, eventually how to turn the cars keys to start the car and how to open a jar. Shaking hands was real painful for a while but it seemed that every time I went to shake, it was too late before I remembered it was going to hurt and then I had to be too manly to show in any way that it hurt once I did shake.
The funniest thing? It gave me great satisfaction in an odd way to let people help me. Wifey was up all night one night waiting for me to get out of surgery and then home from work for three days. Middle son actually drove me to the hospital (after I woke him from his nap) and he and number three son were very sweet and caring during my recovery, helpful and with never a complaint. Dad was here for a couple days and then the in-laws for a few more. I got lots of cards, calls from two different minsters, a flurry of concerned emails, and more hugs than ever. It's just one of those things, one of those really good things: they were all happy to help. And I know that they know that, had the shoe been on the other foot, I'd have been happy to help them--and downright angry if not given the opportunity to help.
That's what it's all about, folks.
So thanks go out to all. I coulda really broken my back, coulda cracked my head like a three day old jack-o-lantern. Economically, I could be in a position where laid up means out of work, where the bills would be devastating, where there is not this wonderful family-and-beyond network of support. Yes, yes, it could have been worse.
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