It has been awhile since I've blogged and I have missed it. It's hard to sit down and tell a story when your head is full of math. I wonder how math teachers do this..hmm.. Maybe they tell old math tales and abacus jokes, I don't know. I did manage to make it through the studying and tests one day at a time, but most evenings, when I had the chance, I read fiction. I never turned on the television and the only news and weather I got was from my truck radio as I went from point A to point B. I don't think I missed much because the news seems the same only with different players.
There are no wrong answers in fiction. If I was tested on each book I read I would probably stop reading. Sure I was tested on them in school when I was growing up, but this was simply a way for the teachers to be sure that I had read them. Of course I read them. I read cereal boxes and junk mail when I have nothing to do. I try to imagine what the author was thinking when the wrote the description of the "latest technology in personal transportation. We at the Scooter store offer only the best...". I have been hooked all my life.
When Taylor wanted to play soccer last year the school required a physical examination. When I took her to the family doctor he looked her over good and tested her vitals. He talked to her about the dangers of pier pressure, drugs and smoking. He harped on diet, exercise and all the other "doctor" things that we all hear about. But he also told her something that surprised me. He told her to read. Turn off that TV that figures everything out FOR you, and use your imagination. A perscription to read? I thought so.
Well before it sounds like I am completely down on math, let me say that the lessons were a humbling experience. I have always consider myself as smart as the next guy, but there are some really smart people out there! It made me feel good to surround myself with them, if only for a few weeks. I now know for sure that I use the "other" side of my brain. I finally answered the question that I have asked my school teachers in the past. "Why do I have to learn this? When will I need to know this?" Now I know. Now.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
jobs
I loved going to college. I loved it so much that I changed my major most every quarter. I really had no idea what I wanted to do, so I got excited about every new class. I knew for sure that I didn't want to be in the Navy anymore, but that was it. I always had a job while I was going to school because I had to pay for it somehow. I had an incentive grant and student loans, but that was about it. College was not nearly as expensive then as it is now, but still the bills piled up.
I worked cleaning pools, I worked as a houseparent at a group home and I installed chain link fence, but I really didn't love any of this. Until my roommate helped me get a job working with him at an architectural millwork shop I was adrift. The owner would allow me to work around my class schedule and it wasn't long before I lived to work with wood. We made everything from cabinets to windows, molding and doors. Every day was a new day, and I was in love.
It wasn't long before wood replaced books and all I dreamed of was having my own shop. I worked at this shop for a few years, another for a couple, and I was ready to hang out my own shingle. I built a shop in my backyard and built cabinets, from word of mouth alone, for 15 years. The business was good to me and I managed to buy land and build a house twice. Working at home allowed me to spend alot of time on each home, so when it came time to sell I had no problem. The homes were full of woodwork and somewhat unusual.
We decided to enlist the services of a real estate agent when we sold the first one, but being from a small town where everybody knows everybody, we had a hard time deciding which agent to use. I finally told PJ to pick one and she did. Well, that didn't sit right with a few agents that were not chosen. They called me and complained and one went so far as to tell me to take it off the market, wait a few weeks, and list it with him. All I wanted to do was sell my house! I blamed the decision on my wife (one of the benefits of marriage) not being from here and how "she was handling everything" and it kind of blew over. Still we dealt with the almost daily bickering and rude comments agents made about each other. They all seemed to hate each other!
Well the house sold and we started over again. Built another house and shop and got back to work. I was beginning to tire somewhat with woodwork and looked into going back to school. It seemed expensive and complicated, especially since there were three of us now, and I got discouraged. A friend of mine that owned a real estate company suggested that I get my license and come to work with him. He said I could do it part time and continue my woodwork as well. Sounds like low risk fun and I might even make some money!
Well when PJ got home from work and I sprung the idea on her....Let's just say she was not instantly enthused. "That is a terrible business. Don't you remember how mean those agents were to each other when we sold our last house? Do you want to be like that?" Was the gist of her response with the obscenities ommited. "You are too nice and will get eaten up in that business".
She was probably right, as usual. I really wanted a change though and this sounded like a quick way. I thought about it for a few days then I told her that when I began to act like those other agents I would quit. I didn't run my cabinet business that way, and I wouldn't sell real estate that way either. "You let me know when I get like that" made it sound even more official.
The next seven years have been somewhat of a blur. While I was halfway through the real estate course my brother died. I couldn't study or work for awhile and eventually had to start the course over. In spite of my grief I managed to finish the course, get a license and sign on with a real estate company. I locked up my cabinet shop and never looked back. After almost 20 years of wood, I was done.
I enjoyed the real estate business. It seemed at first that we were just talking about work instead of actually doing it. I didn't get dirty and I was never tired. I felt like I was doing a service, people wanted to buy a house and I had the keys! But somewhere along the way things changed. I was not as happy as before. I was beginning to act like the agents that apalled me ten years earlier. I was turning in to one of them. I don't know what my future holds now, but I do know that I will keep the promise I made to myself and my wife years ago and point this ship in another direction.
I worked cleaning pools, I worked as a houseparent at a group home and I installed chain link fence, but I really didn't love any of this. Until my roommate helped me get a job working with him at an architectural millwork shop I was adrift. The owner would allow me to work around my class schedule and it wasn't long before I lived to work with wood. We made everything from cabinets to windows, molding and doors. Every day was a new day, and I was in love.
It wasn't long before wood replaced books and all I dreamed of was having my own shop. I worked at this shop for a few years, another for a couple, and I was ready to hang out my own shingle. I built a shop in my backyard and built cabinets, from word of mouth alone, for 15 years. The business was good to me and I managed to buy land and build a house twice. Working at home allowed me to spend alot of time on each home, so when it came time to sell I had no problem. The homes were full of woodwork and somewhat unusual.
We decided to enlist the services of a real estate agent when we sold the first one, but being from a small town where everybody knows everybody, we had a hard time deciding which agent to use. I finally told PJ to pick one and she did. Well, that didn't sit right with a few agents that were not chosen. They called me and complained and one went so far as to tell me to take it off the market, wait a few weeks, and list it with him. All I wanted to do was sell my house! I blamed the decision on my wife (one of the benefits of marriage) not being from here and how "she was handling everything" and it kind of blew over. Still we dealt with the almost daily bickering and rude comments agents made about each other. They all seemed to hate each other!
Well the house sold and we started over again. Built another house and shop and got back to work. I was beginning to tire somewhat with woodwork and looked into going back to school. It seemed expensive and complicated, especially since there were three of us now, and I got discouraged. A friend of mine that owned a real estate company suggested that I get my license and come to work with him. He said I could do it part time and continue my woodwork as well. Sounds like low risk fun and I might even make some money!
Well when PJ got home from work and I sprung the idea on her....Let's just say she was not instantly enthused. "That is a terrible business. Don't you remember how mean those agents were to each other when we sold our last house? Do you want to be like that?" Was the gist of her response with the obscenities ommited. "You are too nice and will get eaten up in that business".
She was probably right, as usual. I really wanted a change though and this sounded like a quick way. I thought about it for a few days then I told her that when I began to act like those other agents I would quit. I didn't run my cabinet business that way, and I wouldn't sell real estate that way either. "You let me know when I get like that" made it sound even more official.
The next seven years have been somewhat of a blur. While I was halfway through the real estate course my brother died. I couldn't study or work for awhile and eventually had to start the course over. In spite of my grief I managed to finish the course, get a license and sign on with a real estate company. I locked up my cabinet shop and never looked back. After almost 20 years of wood, I was done.
I enjoyed the real estate business. It seemed at first that we were just talking about work instead of actually doing it. I didn't get dirty and I was never tired. I felt like I was doing a service, people wanted to buy a house and I had the keys! But somewhere along the way things changed. I was not as happy as before. I was beginning to act like the agents that apalled me ten years earlier. I was turning in to one of them. I don't know what my future holds now, but I do know that I will keep the promise I made to myself and my wife years ago and point this ship in another direction.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Home
I have been married, to the same woman I might add, for twenty one years. We have been together for about twenty five years, over half of my life. While that in itself is pretty uncommon these days, it is not what is on my mind. Change is in the air.
Since we married in 1989 we have lived in six different homes, seven if you count that year of sin we tried before marriage. Five of these homes we owned and every time we sold we came out on top. A good track record based on some good decisions. We loved every home that we lived in, but not enough (I guess)to stay there forever. I will never forget coming home from work one day to a home on 11 acres that I had built myself. It was a beautiful and large home with every feature we dreamed about. Heart pine floors, ash cabinets, walnut built-ins, cypress ceilings and alot of sweat. We lived there five or six years, I think, and I was very proud of it. When I walked in the door PJ had this odd look on her face as she was sweeping the kitchen floor, and I asked her what was wrong. "We need more dirt and less house", she said. Time for a change.
When I was a kid I always thought if I had a home on 100 acres I would never want anything else. That had always been my dream and it sounded like PJ now shared it. So we begin to look for land and put our house on the market. Everything happened pretty fast at that point and we ended up with 80 acres, a small house and no mortgage. Taylor (my daughter) was pretty small at that point and really didn't seem to notice the cramped quarters. We eventually added on some more room and lived there for seven years. Seven years that Taylor went from 3 to 10 years old. The fun years.
Well the itch kind of got us again and we built a house in town. We kept the "farm" in the country and stayed there some weekends, but as time wore on we went there less and less. Somebody offered to buy the place after a year or so and we let it go. What had once been my lifelong dream was now just another place I had lived.
But as I sit here, scratching that familiar itch, I realize that something is different this time. It is not just PJ and I to think about, there are three of us now. Three decision makers. A wealthy investor once told me "if you let your kids make real estate decisions for you, you are making a big mistake". But that is not it. What I realize is that the last home I sold was where her memories began. It was home. I sold the door jamb that tracked her growth, in pen and pencil, for seven years. A lifetime.
The home we are in now is nice and we love it. PJ says that it "doesn't really seem like us", but I'm not really sure what "us" means. It is, once again, too large for three people, but that is a good problem to have. But for the last few months we have spending the weekends at a much smaller home we bought on the lake. Living on the lake has never been a dream of mine, but I like it. I think that more than liking the lake I like the closeness of a smaller home.
Taylor seems to be coming around to the idea of moving again, but we are going slow. I want her to be a part of the decisions we make, and to be happy with them. I want her to understand that a house is where you live, but a home is where your family is. Those marks on the doorjamb are probably gone by now. I can imagine the new owners pausing for a second before the paintbrush makes them a memory. Smiling as they realize that this house is now their home.
Since we married in 1989 we have lived in six different homes, seven if you count that year of sin we tried before marriage. Five of these homes we owned and every time we sold we came out on top. A good track record based on some good decisions. We loved every home that we lived in, but not enough (I guess)to stay there forever. I will never forget coming home from work one day to a home on 11 acres that I had built myself. It was a beautiful and large home with every feature we dreamed about. Heart pine floors, ash cabinets, walnut built-ins, cypress ceilings and alot of sweat. We lived there five or six years, I think, and I was very proud of it. When I walked in the door PJ had this odd look on her face as she was sweeping the kitchen floor, and I asked her what was wrong. "We need more dirt and less house", she said. Time for a change.
When I was a kid I always thought if I had a home on 100 acres I would never want anything else. That had always been my dream and it sounded like PJ now shared it. So we begin to look for land and put our house on the market. Everything happened pretty fast at that point and we ended up with 80 acres, a small house and no mortgage. Taylor (my daughter) was pretty small at that point and really didn't seem to notice the cramped quarters. We eventually added on some more room and lived there for seven years. Seven years that Taylor went from 3 to 10 years old. The fun years.
Well the itch kind of got us again and we built a house in town. We kept the "farm" in the country and stayed there some weekends, but as time wore on we went there less and less. Somebody offered to buy the place after a year or so and we let it go. What had once been my lifelong dream was now just another place I had lived.
But as I sit here, scratching that familiar itch, I realize that something is different this time. It is not just PJ and I to think about, there are three of us now. Three decision makers. A wealthy investor once told me "if you let your kids make real estate decisions for you, you are making a big mistake". But that is not it. What I realize is that the last home I sold was where her memories began. It was home. I sold the door jamb that tracked her growth, in pen and pencil, for seven years. A lifetime.
The home we are in now is nice and we love it. PJ says that it "doesn't really seem like us", but I'm not really sure what "us" means. It is, once again, too large for three people, but that is a good problem to have. But for the last few months we have spending the weekends at a much smaller home we bought on the lake. Living on the lake has never been a dream of mine, but I like it. I think that more than liking the lake I like the closeness of a smaller home.
Taylor seems to be coming around to the idea of moving again, but we are going slow. I want her to be a part of the decisions we make, and to be happy with them. I want her to understand that a house is where you live, but a home is where your family is. Those marks on the doorjamb are probably gone by now. I can imagine the new owners pausing for a second before the paintbrush makes them a memory. Smiling as they realize that this house is now their home.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
communication
It was bright outside and light was streaming through my bedroom window. I had just turned over and put the pillow over my head to add a few more minutes of treasured darkness when something like a finger poked me in the nose. I don't remember what I was dreaming, but the poke ended it quickly and sat me straight up, ready to run. I sleep with earplugs so I never heard it coming. Whatever was poking me now had me!
Well my fear turned to anger when I realized it was my cat. "Are you up?" said the look on her face. I don't know if I swore out loud (another benefit of earplugs), but I think she got the gist of a few choice words. Well luckily PJ was getting up for work about this time so the cat turned her attention to another subject. An easier mark. They left the room and I replaced the light filtering pillow to it's respected position. I tried to doze a little longer but it was too late, the damage was done.
A few cups of coffee later and it's mid morning. The cat is asleep outside with the full stomach she told me she needed at six AM. Time to wake Taylor up so I enlist the help of my dog. "Lets check on Chickie" I say, as I do every morning, rain or shine. He jumps up and heads to the door of the room upstairs. He waits for me to open it, then dashes upstairs. Dash being a relative term for a 10+ year old border collie, maybe 'proceeds' would be better. As he walks up the stairs he shakes his head to make the tags on his collar jingle. At the top of the stairs he makes a noise that is half whine and half growl, a canine good morning. I can see Taylor begin to stir before we get to the edge of her bed, and she too puts the pillow over her head. We are both up now, thanks to the work of our pets.
As I head downstairs I think about just how effective the communication skills of these animals are. No dancing around the subject or sugar coating the obvious, just simple logic. Pets don't have and electric alarm clock with battery back up, they have a natural one. They have the engines of our ancestors that slept in caves and rose when the sun came up. They get tired, they sleep. They get hungry, they eat. They are creatures of habit and they expect the same from you. But above all, when they have a want or need, they communicate it perfectly, you just have to listen.
Our twenty first century lives have become much more complicated than those of our ancestors. It seems crazy to apply the logic of a dog to the life of say, an attorney or a banker, but the basic interactions are the same. If another dog walks past my house, my dog barks. We assume this is agression, but how do we know that? What he really said was "here I am and there you are, I see you". The obvious. The logical. There are enough mysteries without adding more.
If you are hungry, eat. If you want your spouse to take you out to eat, ask them. If you love someone, tell them. Life is too short to assume that others understand your true feelings. If you want them to wake up, poke them in the nose.
Well my fear turned to anger when I realized it was my cat. "Are you up?" said the look on her face. I don't know if I swore out loud (another benefit of earplugs), but I think she got the gist of a few choice words. Well luckily PJ was getting up for work about this time so the cat turned her attention to another subject. An easier mark. They left the room and I replaced the light filtering pillow to it's respected position. I tried to doze a little longer but it was too late, the damage was done.
A few cups of coffee later and it's mid morning. The cat is asleep outside with the full stomach she told me she needed at six AM. Time to wake Taylor up so I enlist the help of my dog. "Lets check on Chickie" I say, as I do every morning, rain or shine. He jumps up and heads to the door of the room upstairs. He waits for me to open it, then dashes upstairs. Dash being a relative term for a 10+ year old border collie, maybe 'proceeds' would be better. As he walks up the stairs he shakes his head to make the tags on his collar jingle. At the top of the stairs he makes a noise that is half whine and half growl, a canine good morning. I can see Taylor begin to stir before we get to the edge of her bed, and she too puts the pillow over her head. We are both up now, thanks to the work of our pets.
As I head downstairs I think about just how effective the communication skills of these animals are. No dancing around the subject or sugar coating the obvious, just simple logic. Pets don't have and electric alarm clock with battery back up, they have a natural one. They have the engines of our ancestors that slept in caves and rose when the sun came up. They get tired, they sleep. They get hungry, they eat. They are creatures of habit and they expect the same from you. But above all, when they have a want or need, they communicate it perfectly, you just have to listen.
Our twenty first century lives have become much more complicated than those of our ancestors. It seems crazy to apply the logic of a dog to the life of say, an attorney or a banker, but the basic interactions are the same. If another dog walks past my house, my dog barks. We assume this is agression, but how do we know that? What he really said was "here I am and there you are, I see you". The obvious. The logical. There are enough mysteries without adding more.
If you are hungry, eat. If you want your spouse to take you out to eat, ask them. If you love someone, tell them. Life is too short to assume that others understand your true feelings. If you want them to wake up, poke them in the nose.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Body Language
Like many Americans in the new millenium I get my medical and psychological advice from any place other than a professional. Why go to the doctor when you can go to Webmd or just google "why does my ankle make that clicking sound first thing in the morning?" All of this is done in the privacy of your own home and you never have to try to believe a nurse when she tells you "trust me honey, I've seen a million of them". But really how good is this diagnosis? If someone wants to ruin my computer by putting a virus on Facebook, why would they also not want to hack my health? Give me a virus!
I thought of this yesterday while listening to the John Tesh show on the radio. I don't know how old you have to be to admit that you listen to John Tesh, but I just did. John started out talking about germs and public contamination but has moved on to topics more relevant to me. What to say (or not to say) in a job interview, how to talk to your kids and just generally how to interact with others. Yesterday he said that psychologists now believe that body language depicts more accurately what you mean than the actual words that come out of you mouth. He read some statistics that 90% of psychologists now believe....Ya think! Haven't we always known this? How many times have you watched your kids, after almost begging them, try a new food. They take a bite, gag and swallow. You asked them how they liked it and they say "It's good". Do you believe the answer or the body language?
I guess this means that before the new statistics psychologists would say the patient is fine, he told me so himself. This is why I think the advice and common sense knowledge you get from others is often as important as a professional consultation. Yes I treated dry skin with ringworm medication once and made it much worse, but you know what I mean. Sometimes you need a trained eye.
But I say take this common sense approach one step farther and use it in your day to day interaction with others. Sure, you went to Walmart and didn't actually insult anybody, but does this make you a kind person? You wanted to scream at a lady that was more interested in catching up with an old friend and less concerned with the fact that both of their buggies were completely blocking the isle. You didn't say anything.
Kindness by omission, this doesn't count. My daughter cringes when I ask the man in front of me at the checkout how he is going to cook the 14 packs of chicken wings he is placing on the counter. When I ask the lady blocking the isle in one of those motorized shopping carts if she needs something she can't reach. When I touch the lady on the shoulder that is in front of me at the checkout and tell her that I'm going home with her because she is buying a turkey and a ham. Nobody has slugged me yet and I while I have made very few lifelong friends like this, I have been the direct recipent of some really cool smiles. Some day changing smiles.
Let's all try to use a little common sense in our lives and be kind to others. That smile and touch on the shoulder goes alot further than what comes out of your mouth. I know it's true...John Tesh said so.
I thought of this yesterday while listening to the John Tesh show on the radio. I don't know how old you have to be to admit that you listen to John Tesh, but I just did. John started out talking about germs and public contamination but has moved on to topics more relevant to me. What to say (or not to say) in a job interview, how to talk to your kids and just generally how to interact with others. Yesterday he said that psychologists now believe that body language depicts more accurately what you mean than the actual words that come out of you mouth. He read some statistics that 90% of psychologists now believe....Ya think! Haven't we always known this? How many times have you watched your kids, after almost begging them, try a new food. They take a bite, gag and swallow. You asked them how they liked it and they say "It's good". Do you believe the answer or the body language?
I guess this means that before the new statistics psychologists would say the patient is fine, he told me so himself. This is why I think the advice and common sense knowledge you get from others is often as important as a professional consultation. Yes I treated dry skin with ringworm medication once and made it much worse, but you know what I mean. Sometimes you need a trained eye.
But I say take this common sense approach one step farther and use it in your day to day interaction with others. Sure, you went to Walmart and didn't actually insult anybody, but does this make you a kind person? You wanted to scream at a lady that was more interested in catching up with an old friend and less concerned with the fact that both of their buggies were completely blocking the isle. You didn't say anything.
Kindness by omission, this doesn't count. My daughter cringes when I ask the man in front of me at the checkout how he is going to cook the 14 packs of chicken wings he is placing on the counter. When I ask the lady blocking the isle in one of those motorized shopping carts if she needs something she can't reach. When I touch the lady on the shoulder that is in front of me at the checkout and tell her that I'm going home with her because she is buying a turkey and a ham. Nobody has slugged me yet and I while I have made very few lifelong friends like this, I have been the direct recipent of some really cool smiles. Some day changing smiles.
Let's all try to use a little common sense in our lives and be kind to others. That smile and touch on the shoulder goes alot further than what comes out of your mouth. I know it's true...John Tesh said so.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Social Media
I made a big mistake on Facebook this week. One that I rarely commit and even scold others for making. The "cardinal sin". I made a comment on a political statement. Not a statement...just a comment. My friend din't say much, but his friends ate me alive. Keep it light. Post some pictures and catch up with old friends. It is, after all, social media not political media. I slipped.
One things that happen when the conversation turns to politics is that you learn things about others that you really don't need to know. I don't want to know who you voted for any more than I want to know if you went to the bathroom this morning. There is curtain on the voting booth for a reason. It is there to enable you to keep your political views where they belong. There is no top on it, so it's between you and God, and I really don't think that God wants to talk about politics anyway.
Conversations about politics will almost always turn into an argument. They will do so because reguardless of what you "believe" there is no right or wrong. It is a highly subjective subject with millions of interpretations. What is cut and dried to one is absurd to others. But what is the goal of an argument? What does one want more than anything when they enter an argument? To win! It's human nature. Here is where it gets fuzzy.
How bad do you want to win? Bad enough to say "well at least I'm not ugly"? Bad enough to say "you are a fat bastard"? Bad enough to say "They are treating the president unfairly because he is black"? These are win at all costs statements and they are unfair. Ever think that General McCrystal made these statements about the handling of the war simply because they were his beliefs? Of course you can't do that with the boss and he got what he deserved, but does it have anything to do with his being white and the boss being black? It's possible, but I don't think so.
I was told that this was just another "disrespecting" of the president because he is a black man. Another slight in a long line of others. The first time a general disagreed publicly with the Commander and Chief. Wrong. It has happened before and it will again. We live in a free country and if your skin is not thick, you have no business in politics. You wont see me there because I already know that mine is not thick enough.
America put this man in office. We all did. He is our president. He belongs to an ethnic group that totals no more than 17% of the population of the United States. I'm no math wizard, but 17% wont get you elected for anything. Where did the other votes come from you ask? While I would never dream of telling anyone how I vote, I will tell you that the other votes came from people that look just like me.
I hope he is successful. I hope this job makes him happy. I wish him luck, it's the hardest of jobs. But while you sit at home and feel sorry for how the media and his generals may treat him, think about this. He was elected to the highest position in the United States by a country of 260 million people of every shape,form and color. He made it. No matter how much I agree or disagree with his politics, these are historic times and I'm proud to be a part of them!
One things that happen when the conversation turns to politics is that you learn things about others that you really don't need to know. I don't want to know who you voted for any more than I want to know if you went to the bathroom this morning. There is curtain on the voting booth for a reason. It is there to enable you to keep your political views where they belong. There is no top on it, so it's between you and God, and I really don't think that God wants to talk about politics anyway.
Conversations about politics will almost always turn into an argument. They will do so because reguardless of what you "believe" there is no right or wrong. It is a highly subjective subject with millions of interpretations. What is cut and dried to one is absurd to others. But what is the goal of an argument? What does one want more than anything when they enter an argument? To win! It's human nature. Here is where it gets fuzzy.
How bad do you want to win? Bad enough to say "well at least I'm not ugly"? Bad enough to say "you are a fat bastard"? Bad enough to say "They are treating the president unfairly because he is black"? These are win at all costs statements and they are unfair. Ever think that General McCrystal made these statements about the handling of the war simply because they were his beliefs? Of course you can't do that with the boss and he got what he deserved, but does it have anything to do with his being white and the boss being black? It's possible, but I don't think so.
I was told that this was just another "disrespecting" of the president because he is a black man. Another slight in a long line of others. The first time a general disagreed publicly with the Commander and Chief. Wrong. It has happened before and it will again. We live in a free country and if your skin is not thick, you have no business in politics. You wont see me there because I already know that mine is not thick enough.
America put this man in office. We all did. He is our president. He belongs to an ethnic group that totals no more than 17% of the population of the United States. I'm no math wizard, but 17% wont get you elected for anything. Where did the other votes come from you ask? While I would never dream of telling anyone how I vote, I will tell you that the other votes came from people that look just like me.
I hope he is successful. I hope this job makes him happy. I wish him luck, it's the hardest of jobs. But while you sit at home and feel sorry for how the media and his generals may treat him, think about this. He was elected to the highest position in the United States by a country of 260 million people of every shape,form and color. He made it. No matter how much I agree or disagree with his politics, these are historic times and I'm proud to be a part of them!
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Memorial Day
It's Memorial Day weekend and the news channels dedicate a large portion of their programming to stories about people who lost loved ones in military service. Men and women who gave their lives for their country. My country. The "ultimate sacrifice" in places as remote as other planets. All to protect the freedoms we enjoy everyday. How can we thank you enough.
But there is another part of military service that often goes unnoticed. Wars and conflicts make big headlines but day to day military service in itself is hard. Being on call twenty four hours a day seven days a week,often thousands of miles from home. I doctor's schedule without a doctor's pay. A few months in the field or a four month cruise in the Medditerranean. Training on the west coast or sending the ship to dry dock. All of this happens while your loved ones wait for you at home. Babies are born and relatives are buried. Soccer games are played and proms are held. Children grow up.
Sitting with my daughter on the edge of her bed laughing at her mother making a fool of herself on the Wii. It's Friday night yes, but it could be any night. It could be every night. I don't have to listen for the midnight phone call that will send me far away for god knows how long. I turn the air down,pet my dog and get in my own bed.
Thank you men and women of the military. Thank you for protecting this country that I love. I think that the life that you live and the job that you do is in itself, "the ultimate sacrifice".
But there is another part of military service that often goes unnoticed. Wars and conflicts make big headlines but day to day military service in itself is hard. Being on call twenty four hours a day seven days a week,often thousands of miles from home. I doctor's schedule without a doctor's pay. A few months in the field or a four month cruise in the Medditerranean. Training on the west coast or sending the ship to dry dock. All of this happens while your loved ones wait for you at home. Babies are born and relatives are buried. Soccer games are played and proms are held. Children grow up.
Sitting with my daughter on the edge of her bed laughing at her mother making a fool of herself on the Wii. It's Friday night yes, but it could be any night. It could be every night. I don't have to listen for the midnight phone call that will send me far away for god knows how long. I turn the air down,pet my dog and get in my own bed.
Thank you men and women of the military. Thank you for protecting this country that I love. I think that the life that you live and the job that you do is in itself, "the ultimate sacrifice".
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