Casu-Al Thoughts

A Little About Me

2012-01-18T23:21:00.002-05:00

I’ve noticed as my “Black is the New Pink” blog gets more readership, a few people peek in on this blog. As I stated in my last post about 2 months ago, I don’t write as often as I should here. This is more of a private journal than a soapbox…but still, I put it out there for anyone to read. Stupid perhaps…but that’s me.

Speaking about me, that’s what this post is about. I figure if some of the BITNP readers happen to stumble in here, I might as well introduce myself…or at least as much as I’ll allow myself to do online. Consider this post a special treat for being a little curious about the BITNP writer/founder.

As you may know by now, my name is Al. I’m 49 years old, married (for over 15 years) and have two beautiful twin children…one boy and one girl, age 9. I work as an engineer for a manufacturing company and have a pretty cookie-cutter life. I learn more of how to be a parent every day of my life and realize that I’ll never be an expert. I stay up late at night…mostly typing on BITNP or surfing on the web. As a result, I get far too little sleep. My company was just acquired by another, so while the future seems bright at work, there’s still always a little uncertainly. I have the same worries as everyone…finances…kids…health. And I have many of the same dreams.

About 5 years ago, I became aware of a dream of mine. That dream is to be a writer. I had begun this blog before that time, but decided to really start making an effort. That lasted a few months. (Losing motivation seems to be a flaw of mine.) Still, I had a yearning to write, but my work/life schedule never seemed to offer an opportunity. You’ll notice when opportunity struck as you review the history of this blog. There were some months that I had several entries and other months where I had none at all. I think what I lacked was focus.

Then my brother died.

My mom died back in 2005. Her passing affected me very hard. I fell into a bit of a depression from which I finally crawled out. I think I was in denial during her illness…thinking that my mom would never leave. When she did…well, she was gone and I wasn’t prepared. I finally came to terms with it about two years later. But in 2010, my brother’s melanoma came back. He’d had it before, but none of us really took “skin cancer” all that serous. (You should know by the BITNP blog that I take it VERY seriously now). Anyhow, his passing didn’t affect me as much as did the months leading up to his death. I can’t explain why I handled the two deaths differently, but I did. And Jeff’s passing suddenly became that writing focus I needed. In March 2011, “Black is the New Pink” was born. The rest can be read there.

But I will tell you here that I can’t be any happier with how it’s going. I never EVER expected to have over 17,000 page views…or over 900 “Likes” to the accompanying Facebook page. My goal was never to reach a certain number, but how cool would it be to hit 1,000 by my first anniversary?

And THAT is the most amazing part. I’ve been writing for 10 months and entered over 75 blog entries. I’ve had focus and motivation! I’ve tried to make each one unique yet to have a common theme. It’s not an easy task and I often have blogger’s block…but it’s SO rewarding to me.

But it comes with a price. I become close to some of the reader’s own stories. You see, I don’t have melanoma but so many of my readers do. No matter how much I read of personal accounts, there is no way I can truly understand what it’s like to have melanoma. While it’s inspiring to read some blogs, it’s heart breaking to read others. One of my favorite bloggers (Chelsea) said it best…”We live from one scan to the next…3 (or 6) months at a time.” I don’t see how these folks can live as they do…yet they do and they’re inspiring. Unfortunately, some have died…especially in the last couple months. And each death reminds me of the passing of my own loved ones and that gets me a little depressed. It’s hard to hang out in the lobby of the Hotel Melanoma. But at the same time, I can’t imagine a better place to be.

Not only am I taking steps towards my dream to write, I feel as if I’m helping…doing something. A co-worker and reader of mine told me that I am inspiring people…teaching people…saving people. Sometimes, I feel like I’m “just writing.” Other times, I know I’m inspiring others because as I read my own words, I feel inspired. I know that sounds a bit arrogant, but it’s true. Would a musician write music that’s uninspiring to him? I would hope not.

I felt as I wrote “Real People of Melanoma” that it was my best piece…my most inspiring piece. It put a face to Melanoma. And my goodness, did the readers respond! I’ve had nearly 1,000 page views on that post alone…easily triple of any other. I am most proud of that piece, and proud that my readers seem to agree.

I’ve written dogs as well. Some I thought were decent and others just didn’t flow well. In one piece, I wrote about a friend and his bout with melanoma. He contacted me later to remind me that cancer is private to many folks and asked that I take down that post. I did…I forgot that while folks talk openly about their cancer in the Hotel Melanoma, many people…most people…consider cancer a very private thing.

And so, I’ve learned. I’ve learned more about melanoma. I’ve learned a little on how to write. I’ve learned a little about how to not write. And I’m still learning.

Thanks for coming along for my learning experience…

PS…Please do not link this on Facebook. While I don’t mind others reading it, this is intended to be more of an intimate chat than a soapbox session.

Let the Living Begin

2011-11-23T23:01:00.001-05:00

Wow…has it been a year? Yes…it has.

Mind you, while I’ve been absent from “Causal Thoughts,” my writing juices have been flowing over at “Black is the New Pink.” I realized that all of my “Causal Thoughts” postings were becoming centered on my brother Jeff and his death from melanoma cancer. So, rather than bog down the sometimes humorous slant here, I decided to devote an entire blog site to his memory, which inevitably led to writing about melanoma and skin cancer. It was a good decision, and I plan to keep that blog going, but I’ve decided it’s time to return to my more casual thoughts.

However, my thought tonight is hardly casual. My Aunt Irma died yesterday. She was just over 93 years old and lived a good long life. Honestly, I never really knew her. I vaguely remember seeing her over 16 years ago when my mom and dad drove her south to see my late Uncle Bernard in Myrtle Beach. They stopped by my townhouse in Durham and stayed for a short while. Other than that, I have very little recollection of Aunt Irma.

She left three children…Steve, with whom I’ve had some contact on Facebook; Vicki, with minimal contact on Facebook; and Carole, who I think is closest to my age but with whom I’ve totally lost touch.

I called Dad and told him of Irma’s passing. Unfortunately, I had to leave a voice mail. But eventually we did talk “live.” Our conversation was light, but there was one moment of tenderness or sadness when he stated, “well, there’s only three of us left now.” He was talking about him and his siblings.

Dad had five brothers and one sister. Grenfall (aka, “Sweat”) was the oldest born in 1911 and died in 1990. I remember that Mom and Dad were visiting me when they got the news. Irma was the next oldest, born in 1911. Next was Earl, Jr. (aka, “Bubbles”). He was born in 1921 and died during the Vietnam War in 1968 when I was almost 6 years old.

Bernard was next in line and the first of the Estep Uncles that I knew better. He lived in Nitro and Cross Lanes when I grew up in St. Albans, so we would visit he and his wife (Geri first, then Pat) and kids a few times a year. He was born in 1923 and died in August of 2003. Kenneth was even closer to me, although never really “close” close like some Uncles can be. I was just never the kind of person to be close like that. But our family and his family would get together about once per month. He was born in 1926 and still lives with his long time wife Gertie in Nitro, WV. Robert was born in 1928 and still lives in Missouri near St. Louis. I’ve seen Uncle Bobby a few times over the years and recall a couple long trips to St. Louis to visit his family. My dad, Keith is the youngest…born in 1934.

I’m sharing this mostly as a blog for my kids to read later in life. As they (and you) most likely know, my dad wrote a book about him growing up in Nitro, West Virginia during the depression and World War II. Both of my kids have a signed copy of his book and they’ll both hopefully read it someday. I have one as well, but I have something a bit more valuable to me. Dad “published” his first draft in a three-ring binder, and included photos, drawings and unpublished tidbits. To read these more “raw” thoughts is incredible and invaluable to learn about oneself. I have to admit I’ve not read all of Dad’s published book but I have read about all of this pre-published work. Within this piece, he shares a brief passage about Irma:

Irma Lee Estep Sandifer

Irma married Carlton Sandifer, a construction supervisor from Lynchburg, Virginia who was in Nitro building a rayon manufacturing plant for American Viscose Corporation. They had two daughters who reside in Virginia and one son who lives in West Virginia. Irma is known for her short stature, pleasant personality, and giggly sense of humor.

Writing this blog isn’t about Irma…or about Dad. It’s about family…and sharing one’s experiences in life. I recently posted that this Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for life's experiences...past, present and future. And for the lives of others that have graciously affected my own. I hope to start writing in this blog again, along with BITNP, as a means to document my life to the world, but mostly to my kids.

Let the living begin.

Being Watched

2010-12-01T00:22:00.000-05:00

As most of you know, my brother passed away only a couple weeks ago. I decided that I wasn’t going to flood my blog with “memories of Jeff” stories, although I’m sure I’ll share some over time. However, I was encouraged to share one story…I suppose our last story...with others.

If you’ve read some of my Facebook postings, you know that I engage in a hobby known as geocaching. Basically, geocaching is a global scavenger hunt. The location of hidden objects can be found on the website, Geocaching.com. If you type in an address and find the link to a map, you’ll see that there’s most likely a hidden object nearby. There are about 5,000 “treasures” hidden within a 10-mile radius of my house. In fact, there are well over a million such treasures, or caches, hidden world-wide from country parks or city blocks and even the International Space Station. I bet there’s one near you!

Caches are rated 1 to 5 for both difficulty and terrain with 1 being the easiest. Seeing as I’m not a rock climber or scuba diver, I tend to look for ones rated 1.5 or easier. Whenever I travel out of town, I can load the latest cache locations into my GPS along with previous logs from other geocachers and a description of what I’m looking for. Caches can range in size from smaller than a thimble to a rather large water-proof box. I’ve found all sorts, although there are some types that are more common than others.

A 35mm film canister makes a perfect geocache container. Other geocachers hide the caches for others to find. One simply places a log inside for geocachers to record their find and perhaps adds a coin or little trinket. All caches contain a log on which the finder will sign his or her geocaching name (mine is MountieAl). Most small caches contain only a log. The “treasure” is in the hunt itself, not the end prize. Anyhow, one takes this small container and hides it in a tree stump or other such place. One very common hiding location is within a light pole in a parking lot. Most poles have a metal or plastic skirt at the base of the pole which can easily slide up, thus making a perfect hiding place for smaller caches underneath. And yes, most cachers will giggle when announcing they’ve found a cache “under a skirt.”

Jeff read a few Facebook postings of my intitial geocaching finds and started to ask me about the hobby. After I described it, he started looking for some in Ohio, especially while walking his dog. I remember the first day he found one…he called me on his cell phone asking questions and giving me updates. He was so thrilled at the first find, and I knew he was hooked. “Jadestep” was introduced to the geocaching world. As he always did with things that interested him, he quickly became very involved in the hobby and even helped organize a few Geocaching gatherings. He started to become one of the more involved geocachers in the Akron area.

When Jeff and I attended my step-mother’s family reunion in June, we made sure to go on a Hurricane, WV area cache run together. We found about eight caches that day…a record for me at the time. When we finished, my dad commented that geocaching was the first thing Jeff and I had done “together” in a long, long time. And it was true…somehow this silly little hobby bonded us closer than we’d been in years.

During that trip, Jeff commented that he had wanted to hide his own on a guardrail near the Walgreen’s in Hurricane. He always liked puns and many geocaches were given such titles which would also offer up a clue to the hide. His idea for this cache was “Guarding the Wal.” Jeff was always quite clever. Sadly, he never got to hide that cache.

Before I traveled to WV for Jeff’s funeral, I loaded the caches along my travel route into my GPS as I usually do. Granted, I had no intention of making this a caching trip, but seeing as how he loved to geocache, I thought it appropriate to be able to find one or two during the trip...perhaps at a rest area along the highway or near a restaurant during a lunch or dinner break. But honestly, my mind was far from caches as I drove up the day before his funeral.

The next morning, I decided to run out before we headed to the service and fill my car with gas. As I drove past Walgreen’s in Hurricane, I noticed an icon on my GPS indicating a newer cache had been hidden near the drug store only a couple weeks prior. Again, I hadn’t planned on seeking any caches, particularly on the day of Jeff’s funeral, but curiosity got the better of me. I drove past the guardrails and into the parking lot. The prize seemed to be hidden under a lamp post skirt like so many others, so I parked near the suspected post. Attached to the pole was a sign that said “Area Under Video Surveillance.”

I pushed a few buttons on my GPS to read about the cache and look for any clues. What I read gave me chills. I jumped out of the car, lifted the skirt (giggle) and grabbed the 35 mm film canister. There was only a log inside, as suspected, and I signed it “MountieAl for Jadestep.” I returned the cache to its hiding place for others to find and then sat back in the car with my heart racing. Not to sound cliché, but I had tears in my eyes as I drove away and yet, had a very peaceful feeling.

The name of the cache that I found on the day of Jeff’s funeral at the location where he wanted to hide a cache? “Big Brother Is Watching.”

Jeff, thank you for continuing to join me on my geocaching adventures…and thanks for letting me know that you’ll always be watching.

Memories of Jeff

2010-11-16T09:50:00.000-05:00

My brother Jeff Estep passed away last night (November 15, 2010) after a brief bout with Melanoma that metastasized to his brain and lungs. He left us far too soon.

I can’t really compose my thoughts at the moment…but I thought typing random memories and thoughts may help me a bit. There seems like so few…and yet so many, if that makes sense. While I stop to think of specific memories about Jeff, I have trouble coming up with much at all. But then something happens and a memory will hit me like a ton of bricks.

One such occurrence was as I was putting the dishes away the other evening. I grabbed a paper towel that I had bread sitting upon and I suddenly recalled that it was Jeff that taught me how to fold up a paper napkin and not spill all the crumbs (corners in first). Of all the things to remember, that’s one specific lesson I remember.

Christmas…oh my. As we prepare the house for Christmas decorations, many memories flood on in. He and Debbie love Christmas so very, very much. Even when I visited in September, there was a Christmas tree in Debbie’s dressing room. It’ll be hard to have Christmas without Jeff coming to mind. And I know that Jeff wants us all to enjoy Christmas…not to shed a tear for losing him, but cast a smile on the beauty of the season…and the beauty his life left behind.

I remember the Boy Scout Indian Hand signals we used to use as kids. Our plan was to get up on early, and I mean EARLY, on Christmas morning to see what Santa had left behind. We’d not talk, but walk stealthily through the darkness with flashlights while communicating with Indian hand signals learned from the Boy Scout handbook. Of course, upon first sight of the Christmas tree and decorations, we forgot all hand signals and made a bigger racket than we did the year before.

We had a couple Christmas traditions...one that I’ll keep to myself. It was very juvenile and sophomoric…but it was ours. I know Jeff is smiling when I mention it.

The golf ball. What a wonderful tradition that was. Exchanged over several years, we would alternately give this old Elmer Fike golf ball to one another for the holidays. Until my last attempt pretty much destroyed the ball, we would both look forward to either receiving the ball, or the delight in watching the other receive. It was a tradition followed by many…and enjoyed so much by the two of us.

The two of us. We were seven years apart. When I enjoyed Bugs Bunny, he was into American Bandstand. When I started watching Dick Clark, he was back to watching cartoons. He entered WVU as I was still in elementary school. Eventually I also attended WVU…and a very large reason I did so was because of witnessing Jeff’s experiences in college. It wasn’t the partying…and there was some. It was just the whole experience and how I witnessed my brother grow up from a geeky acne-faced teen to a responsible young man. Whether he knew it or not, watching that was as much of a mentorship as I ever had.

He so loved that college. One of the highlights of his last couple months was attending a game and having his cousin, Coach Dunlap, take him on a tour of the locker room and inner sanctum of the team. I’d never heard him talk in such a giddy way than he did about that day.

I take that back. There was another time, at WVU that he was more excited and full of life. That’s when he met and fell in love with Debbie. He could never have asked for a better partner than Debbie. The love they share is incredible. And once again, showing his love and devotion became another standard I hoped to follow.

Like I said, we were 7 years apart, so we were never really “close” close. We were brothers, but not the call-every-day type. It’s just how we were wired. Or maybe it’s perhaps how I’m wired. Regardless, we still were brothers. And when he lost his job in Florida several years ago and lived with me in NC for a short while, that’s the first time we really shared our brotherhood. We shared secrets of growing up…stories of our experiences. While that was a tough time for Jeff and Debbie, it was a very special time for me.

Recently, Jeff and I shared the hobby of geocaching. I’m not sure why, but that hobby brought us closer than I ever recall. We actually started to become a pair of brothers that would call one another often…just to share stories of the hobby and, of course, toss in a few tidbits about life as well. The last photo I ever had taken with Jeff was when we went gecaching together in September. That’s most definitely my favorite photo of us, ever.

He was with me when I got my first birdie in golf, and he was the obvious choice for Best Man in my wedding. But I guess the greatest legacy I have of my brother is his shared birthday with my kids. How ironic that they were both born on his 47th birthday. They’re a product of my love for my wife Kim…and yet a reminder, even once a year, for the love I have for my big brother.

One final memory I'd like to share, although I apologize for the dark humor. When we were kids, we played cops and robbers or some variation of the game. Whoever played the robber would ultimately get shot and play out a death scene. Every time, the robber would mutter, "The treasure....the treasure is...the treasure is hidden in the....." and then die. My father told me that on Jeff's real death bed, thay my brother muttered something illegible three times before taking his last breath. He could have said anything, but a part of me thinks that maybe, just maybe, he was playing that game one last time. That was his sense of humor. And I think he's safe with his treasure.

I do love you Jeffrey…and I’ll miss you. God bless you

The Lesson of Living Life

2010-09-17T23:50:00.000-04:00

Over the last few weeks, I’ve learned a little bit about life. No, I’m not talking about the meaning of life, but the gift of life and how quickly it can change or be taken away. Unfortunately, I’ve had this epiphany due to the misfortunes of others.

I traveled to Johnstown, PA to attend my wife’s grandmother’s funeral. She was 92 years old and lived a long life with many experiences. We helped my wife’s parents sort through her belongings and close out her affairs. While roaming through the old photos and such, I was impressed by the amount of friends she had throughout her life, and really started to appreciate all that life can offer. After all, there is so much to do in 92 years and I’m only a little over half way there.

When I returned home, I got news that my brother had been admitted to the hospital. He had some memory problems and it was soon discovered that his earlier melanoma had metastasized to his brain and lungs. He has a very challenging fight ahead of him. He’s 55.

My first cousin Perry’s granddaughter has been going through a tough time herself. She’s having rapid heart rate which is wearing the poor girl down, as it is her mother. Both are fighters. Berklee is only 3 months old.

My cousin’s best friend form high school, who happened to marry a gal from my graduating class suffered two strokes and a heart attack within a week’s time about a month or so ago. He’s younger than my brother. He survived and is apparently doing well in therapy…but he has quite a struggle ahead. As does Berklee…and my brother, Jeff.

The combined ages of these three barely add up to the age of Kathleen when she passed on. It hardly seems fair that people so young, whether it be 55 years or 3 months, should face such life-threatening challenges. And that’s when it really hit home.

It may be a cliché as much as it’s a song title, but I’d realized it’s important to live like you’re dying…to live as if it’s your last day. Carpe Diem. However you want to say it. I tend to live my life by following a pretty basic routine. I get up in the morning, fix breakfast for the family, go to work, come home and fix dinner, then relax and go to bed. Weekends are spent running errands as our work day evenings don’t allow time to perform such deeds. I enjoy my life, but frankly, there’s not much “fun” to it outside of the general joy of parenting and family life. And if I were to die today, I can’t say that I’d have more than a handful of people attend my funeral. I’m alive, but I can’t say I’m absolutely living.

My wife and kids mean the world to me…they ARE my life. But again, I’ve realized that I need to lead them as a father/husband should do…lead them into a life of living and excitement. Not a life of unnecessary risks, but a life of breathless moments and joyful giving.

I would love to live a life as long as Kathleen did. But it’s become all too clear lately that life may not last that long. There may not be a tomorrow to allow me to do something I want to do. Now is the time to do it.

I can’t change immediately…I’m not wired that way. But recent events have slapped me in the face pretty hard, and it’s time to listen.

30th Reunion Thoughts

2010-08-10T23:04:00.001-04:00

My 30th High School Reunion is approaching. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to attend due to work. I’m a little disappointed, although there’s no guarantee that my better friends of those days will be in attendance. Still, I can’t help but get a little melancholy about those “old days.” High school brings back a lot of memories. Time has filtered out most of the negative experiences and helped me embrace those that should last a lifetime.

There were a few highlights…and people I’ll remember fondly. My “Three Amigos” were Chuck, Ted and Greg. The four of us would usually get together for some very innocent fun. Yes, I said innocent. I was a pretty squeaky clean guy overall and had the near-invisible persona to go along with it. But I had my three buddies to engage in whatever we decided was entertaining at the moment. Many times, this involved board games. Ha! I bet you never expected playing Yahtzee to be a fond memory of teenage years. Still, I recall playing hours of the game along with Tripoly and Monopoly. (I still have “high scores” written on the inside of my original Yahtzee box in the family room). We’d play to the music of Billy Joel, Queen, Styx, or other basic rock bands of the 70’s, all whom we saw in concert in either Charleston or Huntington. We also spent many an evening at the St. Albans Mall. This was a very small mall as compared to most malls nowadays, but contained all the basic stores: an arcade, a pizza place, National Record Mart, and Baskin Robbins. It was quite the hangout of its day, as was Pizza Hut, Rax Roast Beef, Del Taco, and Church’s Fried Chicken.

I had other friends of whom I share specific memories. I recall Chuck and me visiting my friend Bruce once. We arrived unannounced and his brother let us in the front door. We ran up to Bruce’s room and arrived just as he opened his door. This startled him so much that he nearly fainted on the spot. Chuck and I fell down in hysterics. Bruce’s goal in life was to work in film as a director and I’m sure the terror on his face at that moment inspired future horror flicks somewhere.

Mark was a band friend that I later shared some party time in college. His mother taught at our junior high school and his dad taught biology at the high school. He lived in the next county, so it was always a trek, but a welcomed one, to venture out to his house for a visit. He ended up being a veterinarian as he worked so hard to get that degree. Considering his nickname was “Punkin’ Head,” I have to believe he became a vegetarian as well.

Speaking of the band, that organization created enough memories to inspire many other blogs. Starting band camp in August was an activity dreaded yet looked forward to every year. We ended up marching in all sorts of weather in every game of our undefeated football season and it couldn’t have been a better experience. It’s a shame we lost in the championship game, but what a fun season it was. I played the tuba, or sousaphone. Others that played the same were John, Mike and Rob. All three were taller than I, so it was very easy to see which sousaphone was mine on the field or in a parade… the short one.

I recall other short memories: Playing ping pong at Cliff’s house while listening to Boston. Decorating the homecoming float with a group from the marching band with whom I became close friends that last year. Writing commentary pieces for the school newspaper, “Simmerings.” Helping make a home movie about Macbeth with Tim at the camera. (I still have the “credits” we wrote on toilet paper). Singing Cheap Trick songs and “Pain” in the “Interact Jam Band.” Taking an excruciatingly slow city bus to Morgantown to watch our basketball team in the state playoffs. It was a shame we lost the championship game, but what a fun ride that was!

Then there were the girls. Sadly, none really acknowledged me due to my intense shyness (and short stature most likely), but I still had my share of crushes. There’s no need to list them now…my life has moved on and I have no regrets where my relationships have fallen. Still, like everyone, I hope the best for those I cared for in such shy ways…and I hope you know who you are.

In fact, I hope the same for everyone from the Class of ’80…as well as the teachers. Mr. Willis was a delightful chemistry teacher and possibly my favorite. The late Mr. Keadle was passionate about his marching music. Mrs. McClanahan was beautiful, and also provided great guidance toward writing for the newspaper. And even Mr. Morgan is much appreciated, although I’m sure he’d have a real hissy fit at some of my grammatical errors in this piece.

I hope old friends reunite this weekend as the Class of ’80 gathers in St. Albans. And I also hope that those who were never really close so many years ago feel a greater closeness to other classmates now as we grow older and witness our own children growing up. There are many phases in life that fill our lives with incredible memories. Life in high school was no different.

Ed, Farrah, Michael and feeling big

2009-06-26T00:48:00.001-04:00

I just took my two kids to bed. Despite them sitting on the couch with droopy eyes and yawning faces, they moaned and groaned about having to go to bed. Even though it’s a school night, they wanted to stay up late into the evening. I had to put on my daddy-face and enforce the bed-time, but I also laughed a little at myself. I remember being that age and wanting so badly to stay up late. It made me feel “big.”

To stay up after 8:00 was a big event when I was so young. Hearing the opening sequence of Monday Night Football at 9:00 was a distinct “stay up late” milestone at one point in my life. On Saturdays, being able to stay awake all the way through “Love American Style” to the scary opening credits of “Night Gallery” just after 10:00 was indeed a sleepy medal of honor. But the ultimate goal of staying up late was that magical moment when one would hear the booming voice of Ed McMahon saying those infamous words, “Heeeeere’s Johnny!” Hearing Ed’s voice made me feel big.

As I grew a little older to age 14, other interests made me feel more grown up. I was well into puberty and my focus was mostly on the opposite sex. There was no example of sexuality more popular, and accepted by the mainstream, than the hit TV show, Charlie’s Angels. I recall my brother being in college and talking about the show. Eventually, it was one of the staple shows we watched as a family…publicly for the Aaron Spelling produced action, but more subtly for the titillating action of the three actresses which entertained me and my dad. Like so many other teens in 1976, I had the famous poster of one of the actresses, Farrah Fawcett. I remember my brother wanted it as much as I, but it donned my walls. My first poster. My first crush. And Farrah made me feel grown up.

Eventually though, this poster and others accompanied me to college. The drinking age back then was 18 and the place to socialize and feel grown up at the university was at any number of local bars and dance clubs. The Disco Era had long passed a decade ago, but new dance music emitted from the DJ booth. This was also the booming age of MTV and everyone was into it. To watch MTV and go to dance clubs meant that you were part of the “in” crowd, which of course was all about feeling “big”…feeling grown up…feeling accepted. There was no greater icon of both of both MTV and dance clubs than Michael Jackson. We all danced to “Beat It” and we all owned his album, “Thriller.” The album was not just popular, but it was also damned good music (and still is). To hear Michael’s music and move to its rythym made me feel part of the crowd.

These three icons passed away this week. Ed died on Tuesday while Farrah and Michael both left us today (Thursday). Each had their difficulties and bad publicity later in life, ranging from bankruptcy to bizarre behavior, but they still remained positive symbols of their peak era. And each, ironically, served as a milestone as I grew up. In the past, each, in their unique way, made me feel more grown up. Their passing saddens me as it somewhat marks the passing of my youth. But now that I’m grown up, thinking back on these moments makes me feel young again. I suppose memories of growing up still makes me feel good and hopeful for what lays ahead for me, and my sleepy, growing kids.

Round-about Advice

2009-01-13T12:34:00.001-05:00

We’ve all encountered them, and they seem to be growing in number. They’re popular in new housing developments and the City of Raleigh is considering adding them to Hillsborough Street. I’m talking about traffic circles, or round-abouts.

These are circular intersections into which you turn right and go in a circle until you arrive at the appropriate out-going turn. Round-abouts allow traffic to flow more smoothly than a tradition two- or four-stop intersection in that there is no intended stopping, but only yielding to the car in the traffic circle. It seems simple enough, but apparently, it’s not.

Within in the last week, I’ve driven through one round-about or another of various sizes at an average of once or twice a day. At least three times, I’ve witnessed a car stopping in the traffic circle to allow a waiting car to enter! This not only grinds the in-circle traffic to a halt, but creates anarchy as those awaiting try to enter all at once.

The NCDOT Driver’s Handbook has this to say about traffic circles:
A traffic circle is a specially designed intersection. All cars in a traffic circle travel to the right. You drive around the circle in a counter-clockwise direction until you come to the road or street where you want to turn. You leave the traffic circle by making a right turn. If there is more than one lane in the circle, be sure you are in the outside lane before you come to the place where you intend to exit the circle. Look and signal before you turn or change lanes. Never make a right turn from an inside lane. An entire traffic circle is an intersection. Vehicles already in the circle have the right-of-way.

Please note that last sentence again…that vehicles already in the circle have the right of way. That means you do not stop in the circle to let others in, they wait for you.

If we all follow the rules and common sense, round-abouts should be as simple to maneuver as operating a turn-signal. But let’s not start THAT discussion.

A Considerate New Year

2009-01-01T14:35:00.001-05:00

Usually at this time of year, most folks will share their New Year’s resolutions and set goals on how to better themselves. While I certainly have such goals for myself, I’d rather share one major resolution for others. Be more considerate.

There have been several moments in the last few days that test my faith in others. How many times have I approached an “Express Lane” at the grocery store only to see someone in line with well over the maximum limit for the lane? During the holidays, I often have had to pick up just one or two items at a time…dip for the football munchies or ginger ale for the punch. Yet most of the time, someone was in the express lane, checking out the week’s groceries. But inconsiderate actions aren’t limited to the grocery lanes.

Last night in Apex, I stopped by Food Lion and parked in a space about 50 or 60 feet from the front door. There were other spaces just as close and handicap spaces even closer. Still, as I walked towards the store, a sporty Mercedes pulled up along the curb, an area clearly marked as “No Parking,” and nearly blocked the entrance. One person sat in the passenger seat as the driver got out with the motor still idling. I surmised that the driver might have worked there or was dropping something off quickly. I spent a good 10 to 15 minutes inside shopping, walking the length of the store more than once (I’m not as familiar with the lay-out of this store). As I walked out, the Mercedes was sit idling with the passenger inside (I guess they assumed that an idling car was not a “parked” car). Apparently, the driver had entered Food Lion, not to run in quickly, but to actually shop. If the driver was handicapped, there were plenty of such spaces available. But the only handicap I could observe was the lack of patience and consideration.

In each encounter, I said nothing. During the holidays, I tend to lean to the side of tolerance and patience so as not to induce any negative feelings at this time of year. But frankly, I’m tired of it. Maybe I should simply resolve to be less tolerant and more aggressive. Not that such an attitude is a bad thing, but I would certainly hope the easier route would be simply for people to be more considerate and less selfish. Is it really that difficult?

Regardless, may your new year be full of joy, peace and considerate acts of kindness.

Santa Drives a Pinto

2008-12-23T14:48:00.002-05:00

This past weekend, I took my kids for their official Santa Claus visit. I say “official” because they’d already encountered Santa or his helpers several times. Some talked to the kids while others merely handed them a candy cane. Santa and/or his helpers have had many accents, skin tones and beard styles. It’s been a challenge to explain why there are so many Santas, but I finally told my children that any one could be the real Santa, so they have to treat each as if they were. It’s his way of making sure they’re nice.

This is just one of many explanations I’ve had to add to the Santa mystique. When my kids were born some 6 ½ years ago, I never knew there would be so many twists, turns and variations to the basic philosophy of Kris Kringle. Luckily, some of the Christmas specials explain much of the Santa Legend. “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and “Polar Express” are probably two of the best at explaining flying reindeer and treks down the chimney, but two years ago, I ran into a situation that no Rankin/Bass animated special could explain.

We had completed our “Official” Santa visit about 30 minutes before his final shift ended. After the big event, we grabbed a bite to eat in the mall. Towards the end of our meal, who to our wandering eyes should appear walking across the Food Court with coat thrown over his arm, but Santa, himself. He tossed a smile, waved back at the kids and walked out the door. The kids watched his trail through the window, hoping to see eight tiny reindeer (or possibly nine) launching into the night sky. Instead, they spotted the red capped gentleman stepping into a red 1983 Ford Pinto and driving away. Confusion set into their tiny faces.

My wife and I stared in horror. After all, we’d convinced the kids that this was indeed the REAL Santa. We glanced at one another and I could tell we were both thinking “Maybe they didn’t notice.” Then I felt the tug and looked at my son’s quizzical look.

“Daddy, where are the reindeer?” My mind quickly filed through the previous years’ explanations of all things Santa…trying to confirm that what I was about to say didn’t conflict with previously stated “fact.”

And then I responded, “At a farm…the mall is no place to keep reindeer with all the cars and such. And there’s no food on the roof of the mall to keep them fed ALL day. So they keep the reindeer at a farm.” We got up, tossed our scraps and headed for the parking lot in pondering silence. Another tug.

“But why is he driving a beat-up old car like that?”

“Well, if he drove a fancy car, he’d attract a lot of attention and everyone would follow him around. If people followed him, they’d find out where the reindeer are and maybe feed them some bad food or something.”

“Like in the movie ‘The Santa Clause 2?’”

Ah…a holiday classic once again came to safe the day! “Yes, remember Comet got sick on candy? The same thing could happen if people fed them the wrong food.” We got into our car and buckled the children in. My wife and I climbed in and we drove towards our home. The ride was silent except for holiday music serenading us from the radio.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad we saw Santa tonight and told him what we wanted. But next year, I’m going to wish for Santa a better car.”

Merry Christmas everyone.

Politic-Al Thoughts

2008-10-28T23:13:00.004-04:00

It’s not very often that I share my political views. And to be honest, I’m really not planning to share many now. I’ll admit that I moderately lean to the left, and I’ll leave it at that. But the intent of my comments here is not to persuade you to vote one way or the other, but merely to share some mostly unbiased observations. What I do care about is that you vote…no matter your candidate. Failure to vote takes away any right you have to complain about the politicians in office. Now who wants to forfeit their right to complain?

I have to admit that I’ve a Palin watcher. No, I’m not going to vote for her ticket, but I find the media coverage of her every move fascinating. But what I find even more intriguing is that there is finally a "soccer mom" vying for a significant national office. Women in their 30’s and 40’s rule this country. Really. Whether as a wife or mother, these women serve as home managers better than any man probably could. It only makes sense that one is finally hitting the big time to help manage the country. Hillary never struck me as the "soccer mom" type. Margaret Thatcher and Madeleine Albright certainly did not fit the bill. It’s not because Sarah Palin is more attractive than the others I mention; it’s just that she seems to fit in that neighborhood PTA lady, girl-scout leader mold more comfortably. Again, her politics are not going to earn my vote, but she represents a long-ignored and very significant portion of our population. I hope to see more women take the national spotlight in the future.

Barack Obama has the easiest name to belch than any other presidential candidate in history. “Ba-Raaaaaack”

Did anyone else notice that John McCain did not look at Barack Obama once during the first debate? Despite the moderator asking the candidates to talk to one another, McCain continued to talk to the camera and audience.

I find it interesting that incumbent politicians are claiming that they’ve opposed current unpopular legislation, or proposed favorable legislation that Congress or whomever shot down. That tells me that the incumbent wasn’t very effective or influential to be able to pass the more favorable proposals. I’d suggest trying someone else.

I have a female friend that stated, during the primary season, that she couldn’t believe anyone would ever vote for a female for president. She blatantly told me during the primaries that she could never ever vote for a woman and planned to vote Republican this year. I have to wonder if she’s still going to vote that way now that Palin shared the presidential ticket, or if “never vote for a woman” actually meant “never vote for Hillary.”

Speaking of female candidates, Elizabeth Dole is running for re-election as Senator in North Carolina. I have one question. Where the hell is Bob Dole? He hasn’t been seen once during the campaign.

Political advertisements actually make me miss the obnoxious car dealership commercials.

Vote. Just do it. It matters. Especially this year.

Cracking a Smile, China Style

2008-08-13T23:56:00.002-04:00

Did you see the Opening Ceremony of the Beijing Olympic Games? Admittedly, they were spectacular to watch, but did anyone else sense a “cult-like” feel to the presentation? The commentators on television mentioned that the synchronous performance of the 2,008 drummers was a bit intimidating during rehearsals, so the producers encouraged the drummers to smile more. This reminded me of my trip to Beijing back in 1986.

My travel companions and I found ourselves at the Beijing Hotel seeking an English-speaking guide. After having endured a 36-hour ride in a rather dirty train from Guangzhou to Beijing, we were hungry and thirsty. All we had consumed on the ride was warm beer and M&M’s. If you had seen the dining car, you would have understood why. The Beijing Hotel offered an oasis…a sundries shop with recognizable food and drink.

I can’t recall what we ordered, but as each of us placed an order at the counter, the clerk would stare coldly, then crack a smile, which looked more like a grimace, and then turn to fetch our order. Once he returned with the natural cold stare, he’d hand us a drink or food item, crack that same forced smile, and return to his work. I swear I could hear his skin crackle from the nature of his strained expression. We asked the guide what was going on and she explained that the Beijing “authorities” were encouraging all service workers to smile more so as to appear more warmly towards Western tourists.

During the next few days, we encountered a few “real” smiles from passers-by, but not once did I encounter a worker in a restaurant or shop that seemed genuinely happy. Of course, such folks have bad days here in the US, but it was obvious to me that many people in China simply did not have happy lives.

Simply speaking, freedom contributes to happiness. We were in a communist country in which the same freedoms didn’t exist as they did in the US. And they apparently still don’t.

I read in the paper this morning that the young girl who sang so beautifully in the same opening ceremony didn’t sing at all. Another girl actually sang the words, but she was deemed as being not cute enough to represent China to the world. A government official selected a more visually pleasing child (in his opinion) to sing the music. Unbeknownst to this pretty young performer, her microphone was shut off and the words of the "ugly girl" were heard by the world. It was stated that this was done in “the nation’s best interest.”

Calling any child “ugly” is just wrong, especially when the singing child in fact was as cute as any other child. Doing so in the nation’s best interest is simply imposing the government’s will on the people. This is not freedom. This is not happiness.

Twenty-two years ago, a clerk smiled at me in the most painful way. Drummers smiled for billions of people on television the other night so as not to be intimidating. I’ve met real people in China and they are beautiful people indeed. But until the government let’s go of their hold and allows true freedom, the people will never be truly happy.

Health Update

2008-06-09T12:57:00.002-04:00

Many of my readers have asked how my health is…particularly my blood health. Well, it had been six months since I last had my blood levels checked. If you recall, the combination of medication and diet had an extraordinary effect to reducing my "bad" cholesterol and my triglycerides, while increasing my "good" cholesterol. However, I was a little skeptical prior to my most recent appointment last week.

Before my appointment six months ago, I went on a pretty strict low-carb diet. I limited myself from almost anything "fun" to eat, such as breads, cookies, pizzas, pastas and (gasp) M&M’s. But the effort was worth it. My total cholesterol was cut in half and my doctor stood dumbfounded in front of me for my success. Since then, I haven’t been so disciplined.

The holiday season came and went with the usual sweet temptations. I resisted pretty well and only ate an occasional cookie. Then came Valentine’s Day with all the chocolate temptations. Finally, Easter reared its ugly ears as jelly beans and chocolates danced teasingly in front of my taste buds. I’ll admit that I had to sample a few here and there.

My kids started karate and gymnastics after school on Thursdays and it became difficult to find time to cook a nice meal. Bojangles, Jersey Mike’s or McDonald’s seemed to be the offering of the evening on such busy evenings. And then there is pizza. Probably my weakest moments were when I was confronted with pepperoni pizza. I had to have a slice here and there…and occasionally over there.

So, as you can see, my diet was not nearly as strict as before. Still, I have to admit that my pizza indulgences were much less than in the old days. In many cases, I chose to enjoy only two slices rather than the old three or four. The candy was always merely sampled and I haven’t bought a four-pound bag of M&M’s (to be consumed within 3 days) in many many months. To use a cliché, the key is moderation.

Well, along with moderation should come a bevy of will power. I’m not sure many people could sample one french fry and not be tempted to eat a whole bag. Luckily, I’ve had such will power. Maybe it’s because I was always such a picky eater and a nibbler in my younger days (a trait my daughter now frustratingly seems to have inherited). But I’ve found that when I have a craving for a french fry or macaroni and cheese, I can simply take a bite of what’s left over from my kids’ meal…usually from my daughter’s plate…and be satisfied with only that one tasting.

I guess moderation is the key to my diet…or as I’ve said in the past, my lifestyle. (A side note…South Beach has changed the name of their entrees and wraps from "South Beach Diet" to "South Beach Living." I think that maybe I should have copyrighted the "lifestyle" label.) But is moderation enough?

I received the blood results this morning, and I’m happy to report that, yes, it is enough. Although my triglycerides were up slightly from 107 to 112, it’s still well below the recommended maximum of 150. My "good" cholesterol improved from 60 to 62 and my "bad" cholesterol reduced further from 57 to 45. In fact, the only concern that my doctor had was that my "bad" cholesterol was a little too low now. As a result, he’s cutting my Zocor dosage in half. I was hoping he’s prescribe a Big Mac a day, but no such luck.

Needless to say, I’m pretty happy. I’ve been able to integrate my favorite foods back into my diet without falling off the wagon. I still do not consume cereal and orange juice for breakfast, but instead have a low sodium V8 and either oatmeal or an omelet. My lunches are primarily South Beach wraps, or a sandwich using whole wheat bread, and a salad. I eat fish at least once or twice a week, and when we do order out, I choose the smarter menu choices. And lastly, I haven’t had a drink of alcohol in over nine months. Even my consumption of non-alcoholic beer is limited to less than one a week.

I’ll continue to keep you posted on my blood health as well as any other related issues. But again, thanks for the moral support in the beginning and thanks for continuing to inquire.

Knowing Denny

2008-06-03T21:38:00.005-04:00

When I started to date my wife nearly 14 years ago, I had to eventually face a major obstacle: meeting her dad. I had met her mom when I first met my wife at a university alumni function (should I even say I met my wife and her mom in a bar?). But of course, meeting "the dad" is always a different thing entirely. After all, I was dating his little girl and, well, you know the anxieties of a father (and I'm beginning to dread those same anxieties as my daughter grows older).

I'm happy to say that the initial meeting and all subsequent meetings since have gone very well. Wayne is an entertaining and humorous guy with a good head on his shoulders. He was very personable and made me feel like part of the family from the beginning. In fact, it wasn't long that I found myself invited within a most sacred of groups: his golfing foursome.

I can't recall exactly the first time I joined him golfing or the circumstances as to how I was invited. But I'm sure that we golfed together with two other gentlemen that made up our foursome for many outings. Krish was Wayne's next door neighbor and eventually became friends enough with me to be apart of our wedding party. He also had a great sense of humor and loved the movie "Blazing Saddles" which is probably why we instantly connected. The fourth member of our group was Denny. He was a good friend of Wayne's from church and they shared the fact that they were both Pennsylvanian born and bred. Denny was a good guy as well, but I really didn't know him as well as the others.

What I do recall about Denny was his love of Rusty Wallace. I was never a NASCAR fan, although by proxy of living in North Carolina, I had to have some familiarity with the sport. Except for the more household names of the day, such as Jeff Gordon and the late Dale Earnhardt, I didn't really know much about the other drivers. But in golfing and associating with Denny, I eventually learned that Rusty's car number was "2," and that Miller Genuine Draft was his team sponsor. Whenever a hot golf day insisted on liquid refreshment, you can bet that Denny would buy a MGD for Rusty's sake.

Other than the occasional golf encounter, I would sometimes see Denny and his wife at church (back when we attended church regularly...is that thunder I just heard?) His wife Jean has a remarkable sense of humor and is a beacon of light to all that know her. She's always involved in church and social activities, and it is always a pleasure to make her laugh. I knew that Denny had to be a good guy to have such a good wife.

After my kids grew out of their cribs and into "big" beds, we sold the crib furniture to Jean and her expectant daughter. "Sold" seems like a harsh word because there's definitely an emotional attachment to such furniture: the nights of kids crying and the subsequent soothing, the bouncing of happy faces in the cribs, and the eventually tumbling out after the first adventurous climb. So rather than say they we "sold" them the furniture, I suppose it's more accurate to say that we "entrusted" them with the furniture. Denny's family is worthy of such trust.

Denny passed away last night after an extended illness. And even though the golfing expeditions stopped long ago (Krish got married and moved, I had kids, etc.), it will feel a little different the next time I grab the clubs. In as little as I really knew and socialized with Denny, I'll still miss him. He was a gentleman of goodness overall, and an accompaniment of good times for me.

Here's to you Denny, and may your angel's wings be adorned with the number 2.

Because I'm a Parent

2008-03-25T23:59:00.001-04:00

Sometimes, things take place that defy any explanation other than, "because I’m a parent."

Because I’m a parent, my morning routine is usually a hectic one. As with most mornings, my wife got up before me today at around 5:30 in the morning and took her shower. After losing yet another battle with the snooze button, I got up and made the bed as she washed, relieved myself at the toilet, and then stood bleary-eyed on the scales while the morning news blared from the television. Luckily I got the order right once again. Once she got out of the shower, I entered and felt a bit of life return to my body as I escaped to within the warmth of the shower. The moment was brief though as my morning routine had only just begun.

Because I’m a parent, I rushed out of the shower, combed my hair and applied deodorant. My wife will usually have selected the kid’s outfits by now, but on this morning she was feeling a little rough from a nasty cold, so I filled in her duties. I got dressed and ran into each child’s bedroom with a morning greeting and a flick of the light switch. My rebuttal was that of groans and heads tucked further beneath the covers. I offered up another cheerful and melodic salutation as I selected each outfit, followed by a more stern, but often repeated, "Come on guys, we’re running late!"

Because I’m a parent, I grabbed each kid’s shoes out of their respective closets and placed them at the top of the stairs. I then returned and made each bed as I heard the television station changed to the Disney channel. I issued another warning of "get dressed NOW" in my stern daddy-voice as I smoothed the last wrinkles from the Sleeping Beauty comforter in my daughter’s Princess-themed room. Returning to my room with combs, brush and detangling conditioner in hand, I found the pajamas spread somehow amongst the farthest corners of the room. Gathering her nightshirt and his pajamas, I tossed them in the hallway to remind me to take them to their rooms to fold. I shoved her panties in my pocket and clumsily started to spray my daughter’s hair with conditioner to straighten out her locks. His poker straight hair was a bit easier to comb, although his two cowlicks still defied my best head press.

Because I’m a parent, I barked out orders for each kid to head to the kitchen downstairs and to not forget their shoes. I grabbed the pajamas in the hall and quickly folded and placed each on the respective kid’s bed. Gathering my cell phone (used as my alarm), empty water glass, and hair-grooming tool, I juggled each item to the end of the hall where I picked up two pairs of shoes with the very tips of available fingers. I carried all items down stairs to the kitchen, dropped the shoes to the floor, placed the combs on the table and laid my phone isolated next to the re-charger. The Disney Channel crooned from the family room.

Because I’m a parent, I poured two glasses of orange juice and retrieved two Flintstones vitamins and laid them on the kitchen table. I tossed Cinnamon French Toaster Sticks (ONLY Aunt Jemima brand) into the microwave for my son and poured a bowl of "Daddy Cheerio’s" (Multigrain) into a bowl for my daughter. As the toaster sticks nuked, I poured coffee, V8 and more Daddy Cheerios for my wife and announced to the kids that their juice was on the table. The sticks being done, I placed grape jelly on one side of the pile and syrup on the other side, just as I do every day. Both breakfasts were placed on the table with an announcement that "breakfast is ready, so turn off the TV." I placed my wife’s breakfast, plus toast, on a tray and ran it to her back upstairs so that she could continue to get herself ready on time. Disney was still playing on our TV.

Because I’m a parent, I returned to the family room, turned off the TV and used the daddy-voice once again to urge the kids to the breakfast table. As I packed lunches, I answered the daily questions of "Is this Fred Flintstone?" "Which one has the mountain hair (Bam-Bam)?" "Is Dino a dog or a dinosaur?" and "Who ARE the Flintstones anyway?"

Because I’m a parent, I fixed my breakfast (Jimmy Dean omelet and bacon) last and ate it as I continued to pack the lunches and ensure I had the right homework in the right backpack. I poured my wife a travel mug full of coffee and placed her lunch by the door. As I packed my lunch, I noticed one child was missing and the other finger-painting a masterpiece on his plate with grape jelly. By some miracle, his shirt remained clean. The bathroom door closed and my daughter returned to the table, while announcing that the cat was making strange noises in the living room.

Because I’m a parent, I cleaned the cat barf off the carpet while barking orders to the kids to "PLEASE finish your breakfast and go brush your teeth." A blur ran by me with a recognizable voice saying, "gottagoluvyyahaveanicedaybye" and I swear I felt a kiss on my lips. I returned the near empty keg of pet stain remover and washed my hands as each child made their own interpretation of the earlier cat noises.

Because I’m a parent, I grabbed a plate of half-eaten toaster sticks and a near full bowl of Multigrain Cheerios and growled, "brush your teeth NOW" in my grizzliest of bear voices. Both kids ran to their bathroom as if their lives depended on it as I loaded the dishwasher and packed my briefcase. I eventually went back upstairs with comb, brush, and conditioner in hand to my own bedroom where I was greeted by the sounds of the Disney Channel. I ran an electric razor over my face, brushed my teeth, combed my hair and put on my shoes. I stuffed a wallet in one pocket and a handkerchief in another as I felt the sniffles coming on, having apparently been transferred in the earlier run-by kiss from my wife. I turned off the TV (finally) and found that my daughter was just starting to brush her teeth as a couple gallons of toothpaste-laden water drained from the sink from my sons’ tooth brushing. My growl had turned to a surrendering sigh and a plea to PLEASE hurry up.

Because I’m a parent, I helped my son tie his shoes in a proper double knot and handed him his jacket. I loaded my briefcase and lunch box into the car and clipped the now lifeless cell phone onto my belt. As the car warmed up, I returned inside the house and tied my daughter’s shoes and wiped the toothpaste off her mouth. She put on her jacket and both kids grabbed their backpacks and headed to the car. I turned out the lights, gave the cat a stare as he belched, and headed for the car myself. My kids teased me that I placed the wrong water bottles in their backpacks, so I corrected the error as they stared frozen and unable to comprehend they could have corrected this themselves.

Because I’m a parent, I drove carefully to the school despite running at least 15 minutes later than planned. I pulled up to the school, and reminded each child to give me a hug and kiss. I assured each that I loved them and that their mom would be picking them up after school. I watched the tikes walk into the big building in my rearview mirror as I drove off to work.

Because I’m a parent, I arrived at a workplace I enjoy, but sometimes wonder if it’s what I really want to do in my life. I looked at the photographs of my kids and their original artwork posted on my cubicle walls and realized, once again, that I do it for the kids, so they can have the things they need. My wife and I endure work, adult responsibilities and our own illnesses in order to give our children all that we can. Mentally recharged, I headed to the daily morning production meeting, at which I’m always expected a little late. I quietly walked in and took my place to lean against a side table when I felt the sniffles coming back. As I felt the sneeze rise, I reached for my handkerchief and let out a large sneeze.

And because I’m a parent, I stood before my colleagues with a pair of pink Cinderella panties pressed against my face.

Adventure to Massanutten

2008-03-02T01:15:00.001-05:00

It's been four years since Raleigh, North Carolina has had any measurable snow. A snowfall of six inches was predicted about a month ago, so we purchased saucer sleds and winter boots in anticipation of a fun winter's day. Instead, we received less than half an inch…just enough to make the yard muddy. No sledding and no winter fun. The kids were frustrated as were my wife and I. The school was just beginning the winter break, so since we couldn't get winter to come to us, we decided to take ourselves to winter.

We had visited Massanutten, Virginia before. Massanutten is a four-seasons resort located near the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. Our previous visits have been in the late summer since the cooler mountain environment offered us a respite from the hot and humid North Carolina weather. However, this time we weren't merely seeking cooler climates, but seeking snow.

Our journey to the resort was planned to begin on a Friday, but as our luck usually happens, my son caught the flu on Thursday. Luckily we caught it early enough and the flu meds kicked in enough to allow us to leave on Saturday rather than Friday. This was just as well because our packing efficiency is analogous to not only trying to get ducks to walk in a row, but to get them to do so in step and with synchronized wing movements. It's just not something we, as a family, do well. There was no way we would have been packed on Friday to leave before late afternoon, and I'm just not a real fan of late arrivals to any vacation destination. Trust me, we do it all the time and it's not fun. But I digress.

The route we chose took us six hours to travel...about 30 minutes longer than the course we chose last summer. This newer route was indeed longer, but was chosen because it was nearly all interstate highways and therefore fewer curves that might make the kids, particularly my son, get carsick. Our only real near-sick situation arose when we were in the deepest and most narrow-road part of the mountains. That's when my son announced calmly, "I really have to poopy." Curvy two-lane roads, hair-pin turns and towering pine trees were all that we could see for miles. And of course, we hadn't packed any toilet paper. The only choice was to press the gas-pedal and careen down the mountain, taking curves on 2-wheels in order to find any civilization. After a butt-clenching 15 miles in 15 minutes, we spotted those wonderful golden arches. As I ran out of the car with son in tow (and engine still running), we sprinted to the restroom. My son danced as we struggled with the zipper, his eyes welling with near tears and he finally sat down. And sat. And sat. "Hmmm…daddy, I think maybe it was just gas."

We traveled only another 20 minutes to the resort itself after fumigating Ronald's house. After a pleasantly brief check-in, we headed to our unit towards the top of the mountain. Our ears popped perhaps twice between the check-in center and the condo. We were most definitely in the mountains, and once we arrived, we had a spectacular view of the ski resort and buildings below.

As we looked at this view, two eyes peered back at us. Massanutten is known for the abundant deer population, and one was already greeting us. My daughter immediately named it Bongo. A second and third deer soon joined the first in grazing along the slope. These were named Sweetie and Tommy. I have no idea where my daughter comes up with names so quickly, but it's an endearing quality. Eventually, three others (unnamed) joined in, and we suspected we'd see the animals every day of our stay. As it turned out, this was our only sighting. But we soon realized that deer were not the only other inhabitants of the resort. In fact, we were not even alone inside the unit.

Tiny specs danced along the kitchen countertop. Ants. Not a ton of them, but enough to know there was a whole resort of them hiding away somewhere. We immediately called the maintenance guy who showed up with a can of ant spray. He sprayed the kitchen floor, the counter tops, and the cabinets. The kitchen glistened in bug-killing juice and the scent now replaced that of the clear mountain air. Taking a whiff, he called for housekeeping to come clean up the excess bug juice. As they arrived, we headed out to Pizza Hut for dinner (next to McDonald's where we really didn't want to make an appearance so soon after our previous visit) then we went grocery shopping for the stay's provisions. Upon returning to the unit, we unloaded the food into the refrigerator and cabinets and the kids passed out on the couches. We took them to bed and followed behind shortly ourselves.

On Sunday, we slept in a little, and then I got up to fix some breakfast. Being hungry, I decided to grab a couple fig newtons. This was an old habit of mine from before I started to diet, and I was really hungry, so I thought I'd sneak a cookie before breakfast. After all, even though it was cheating on my diet, it was vacation and I was allowed to enjoy myself a little more than usual. When I grabbed a pack of the cookies, I noticed something strange. The fig center of each cookie seemed to be moving. As I twisted around the sealed plastic bag, I noticed the figs weren't moving at all. Instead, it was the hundreds of ants inside that were moving. Somehow, the little buggers got into the sealed bag and feasted. To my disappointment, I tossed out all the fig newtons along with the one vice I hoped to embrace that day. Nothing else was touched, just my figs newtons. But to be on the safe side, all other cookies and snacks were placed in a plastic tote for the rest of the stay.

After breakfast and some lazing about, we went to a time-share presentation and sales pitch for 3 hours. I hate those things. It's a high-pressured atmosphere and just plain not relaxing. But the reason we attended was to earn 100 resort bucks that helped us to pay to take the kids to the water park later in the week. (At 28 bucks a pop for the evening session, it was worth the 3 hours of my life to pay for my kids' enjoyment). The tour was a high-pressure sales pitch as we expected, but we got the resort bucks as well as a free lunch out of the deal. The sales lady was some old German gal named Petra who reminded me of our Danish neighbor back home, but much, much more annoying. I must have used the words, "yes, it's a great deal, but no, we're not going to spend eleven thousand dollars on a timeshare now…thank you" up to fifteen times before she finally gave up the fight. Truly, this was a miserable experience, but again, this time…and perhaps only this time, it was worth it.

Once the Petra sales pitch was over, we took the kids to the indoor swimming pool and found the water to be freezing. The kids jumped right in while it took my wife and I nearly 20 minutes to ease ourselves to shoulder depth. I have to wonder at what age does the annoyance of freezing cold temperatures supercede the thrill of the swim. Certainly not at age 5 as the kids gleefully splashed around the ice caps. I made a mental note to myself to get the kids swim lessons this summer so that we don't have to go in with them in the future.

We wore our swimsuits under our bundled winter clothing as we arrived. However, before we left, we had to dry and change into dry underwear and clothes in the locker room before leaving. I can't vouch for my daughter's reaction, but this was my son's first experience in a locker room with others changing clothes. It was hard to keep a straight face to watch his face and keep him from pointing at other naked people. A mixture of personal modesty and curiosity sent him into a flood of whispered comments. "That boy is wearing a towel" "Can they see me naked?" "Why does that man have a hairy butt?"

We ended the day heading back to our unit as light flurries began to fall. The kids were thrilled to see the white stuff falling, but I figured the flurries would be all the snow we'd see. Raleigh had made me grow quite cynical to snowy forecasts.

Monday morning came too soon as the sun was barely shining into the valley below. However, an excited whisper coaxed me awake. "Daddy, our backyard is covered in snow!" Our backyard was a 60-degree slope to the condo below, but sure enough, it was covered with a good inch of snow. We were all excited, so rather than have a leisurely morning of coffee and breakfast, I made everyone get dressed without showering and we headed out to play in the snow a bit. Snowballs flew and street skating commenced as we enjoyed this rare and new experience for the kids. We had brought our aforementioned sleds with us and decided to drive to the park at the bottom of the mountain to hit their slopes. Unfortunately there was no snow at the bottom, only at the top of the mountain where there was no place to sled. Instead, we drove through a winter wonderland to the very top of the mountain to look at the incredible view and throw a few more snowballs. Eventually, the kids began to experience the main side effect of snow-play…they became cold. So we headed to the condo for hot chocolate and breakfast and an eventual lazy day around the unit.

We had thought of visiting the snow tubing park that day, but saw that the next day, Tuesday, was a half-price day. We decided to take advantage of the savings and wait a day...a decision we later regretted. Instead, we bided our time playing games and reading books. The kids learned the rules of checkers and also that checkers can be a very long game if played too defensively. I'm not sure if we ever finished a game. My son brought along some clay, so colorful rainbows and flowers soon decorated our unit. The condo itself was a pretty basic two-bedroom unit that one would find at most timeshares. However, there was one outstanding feature…the Jacuzzi. This tub easily sat four adults comfortably and was surrounded on three sides by full-mirrored walls. I searched around for the disco mirror ball and shag carpet. Regardless of it's party reputation, we soon found it to be the perfect entertainment for a family of four to bathe together. And this time, the water wasn't freezing.

Afterwards, we made sure the kids napped in the afternoon as we prepared to visit the indoor water park that evening. The water park turned out to be awesome. There was a nice lazy river, slides galore, and absolutely no way to remain dry if one ventured into the play space of tipping water buckets (the largest holding hundreds of gallons) and spraying hoses. Of course, the water was cold, but much easier to adjust to the temperature within the 84-degree environment. We floated in the lazy river for a few laps and then went into the play area. The kids chickened out of the larger (but not huge) slides but enjoyed the much smaller ones. The rest of the family ended the experience by floating and soaking in the warm springs (not too hot, hot tub). Admittedly, I enjoyed this warm soaking, but screams and splashes across the building beckoned me for one more wet experience.

The "thrill ride" of the water park was to venture through the long water tubes. These tubes extended outside of the building and led back into the pool inside. When one approaches the building from the outside, one can hear screeches of delight echoing from the tubes. I just had to experience one.

I grabbed an inner tube and walked up the 5 stories of stairs. At the top were three choices…each one was a hole in the wall with rushing water flowing into the darkness. I randomly chose one, sat on my tube, and was thrust into the darkness by a giggling attendant. The ride was in pitch darkness with no indication of where the tube would turn next. It was quite a blast as I expected the end of the tube and light of the building to greet me any second. But the ride seemed endless. Then suddenly, the most unexpected sensation occurred. Weightlessness. The tube dropped what seems to be straight down, although I'm sure it was no steeper than the drive to the condo. I have no idea if I screamed like a school-girl, roared in manly delight, or was left breathless. All I know is that I came up from under the shallow water at the end with a giddiness and laughter I'd not felt in a long time. This was worth the 3 hours with Petra.

Tuesday morning greeted us with drizzling rain outside, which prevented us from going tubing. Since the rain was forecast for the remainder of the day, we decided to head back to North Carolina and have the next day at home to recover and unpack (a process equally as long as packing). It took a while to pack for the return since we kept debating the value of shortening our stay, but it was a good choice overall. I'm disappointed we didn't snow tube, but I'm thinking the kids would have been intimidated there as they were at the water park slides. And it was drizzling and miserable. So, we packed throughout the day and eventually headed out around 4:00PM for us to be home by 10:30PM. A long dinner on the road and getting lost in Charlottesville extended the return trip time by 30 minutes. I made another note to myself: when printing off Mapquest directions, make sure to print the return trip directions as well.

Overall, we had a nice time. The ants sucked, but weren't too bad after the initial fig newton take over. The main television was on the fritz throughout our stay, but the kids had one in their room and we had one in ours, mostly to fall asleep by as we watched B-movies on HBO. Swimming at the indoor pool and again at the water park were definitely highlights. The view from the unit was nice, especially when it snowed the one morning. And that was our main goal, to have the kids experience snow before winter's end. Now I'm ready for spring, and hopefully the ants will stay outdoors.

Dissing the Tooth Fairy

2008-02-20T15:15:00.001-05:00

I took my kids to their respective karate and gymnastics classes last night. While there, I got "the look" from another parent. My daughter lost her third tooth last week and was wiggling the next candidate as she awaited her class. As the girl likes to do, she was telling complete strangers about her recent dental changes and was enthusiastically displaying her new toothless void. When the lady asked her if the tooth fairy had visited (expecting an enthusiastic "Yes!"), my daughter responded with a straight face and a simple "no." That's when I got “the look.” The is the gaze one receives when another person thinks you're either an awful parent keeping a child from their innocence, or a practitioner of a strange religion that shuns the existence of the tooth fairy. Immediately, I had to stammer for an explanation to my daughter's words by stating, "It’s HER choice!"

That's right...my daughter refuses to give up her teeth. We've reminded her that the tooth fairy will reward her handsomely for the teeth (hinting at $5 for the first and a dollar for each additional), but she refuses to part with them. I've never received an explanation that makes a lot of sense, just that she wants to keep them in a cheap plastic McDonald's Happy Meal toy container that looks like a tooth fairy. I've seen her play with this toy and I can imagine all her teeth spilled over the carpeted floor, leading to me eventually stepping upon an incisor in the dark of night and feeling it penetrate to the bone in my bare foot.

She asked if she could write a letter to the tooth fairy for money rather than offer up a tooth, but in an effort to teach her a little about sacrificing for a greater reward, we decided not to allow that. Give up the teeth and get the cash. No exception. Otherwise, she could write a letter anytime requesting money and simply expecting it without any sacrifice or actions in exchange. I’ve seen her struggle with the dilemma, while being amazed at both her decision and her acceptance of said consequence. Between you and me, I’m sure her decisions will be amply rewarded eventually. Either that, or when her brother starts showing a profit (he’s already looking forward to his first payment) she’ll change her mind and seek a bulk tooth-deposit.

I suppose that I'm destined to get “the look” from other parents for quite a while. But frankly, they can look to their heart’s content, for I know I'm a decent parent that's allowing my daughter to do as she wishes and to learn to make tough independent choices. I might regret that when she becomes a more opinionated teenager, but by then, I'll be dealing with her looks rather than those from others.

Groundhog Beginning

2008-02-02T10:54:00.000-05:00

My eyes slowly opened to the morning light. No alarms, no loud noises. Just a gentle awakening that I’d not experienced in months. Usually I’m reaching for my cell phone alarm or hearing the whispers of my kids waking me at the crack of down. But on this Saturday morning, at roughly 8:00, I awoke simply because I was ready to wake up. I savored the silence and had one thought. “What are the kids up to?”

I soon had my answer as I heard whispering in the hallway. My wife had also just awoken and we both decided to play possum to see what the kids’ plans were. I heard whispers and tiptoeing on the carpet. Finally a soft counting of, “one, two, three….” The chord from a harmonica screeched somewhat quietly, followed by a rousing chorus of “Happy Groundhog Day to You!”

I opened my eyes as the two tikes smiled and swayed as they sang their song. Before I could applaud, they started the next phase of their presentation. Walking to my wife’s side of the bed, my son proclaimed, “In recognition of Groundhog day, I proclaim you as the Groundhog Queen” as he placed a paper crown upon her head. Rather than jewels adorning the tiara, smiling ground hog faces circled my wife’s head. Her face was beaming with pride.

My daughter then presented me with a card. The front was written in blue crayon: “It is growhog day. Wod you like to play?” Inside, the choice was “Yes or No” Of course, I responded with a resounding yes. My son then asked me if I thought the groundhog would see his shadow today? Judging from the sunlight streaming through the blinds, I told him he would He seemed to be thrilled with the answer.

The day has since proceeded as any other Saturday…with a nice cooked (not nuked) breakfast and plenty of Saturday morning cartoons. I’m sure we’ll run our errands later on and take care of some household chores. But today, I’ll make an extra effort to play, and my wife will still be wearing groundhogs on her head.

Accidental Attraction

2008-01-25T16:41:00.000-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, I was traveling down a back road towards work as I usually do. The main road is typically congested and, despite the back road being two miles longer in distance, it saves me about 5 minutes on my commute. Besides, it’s a pleasant road that passes a few horse farms and other scenic sites. But on this particular morning, there was a car stopped ahead of me to turn left into another road.

I came to a stop behind this other car and waited for them to turn. They were waiting on another approaching car to pass the other way first. Suddenly, above the noise from my radio, I heard screeching tires. I thought for sure that the approaching vehicle was going to crash right into the car in front of me. But the car started to cross the road with no problems, so I glanced in my rear-view mirror to look for the origin of the screeching noise. Nothing in sight…at least until I saw another car to the right of me, along the shoulder, sliding past me. The lady turned her steering wheel hard to her left to keep from sliding too far off the road, and eventually ran into my front right fender. Needless to say, this was not a great start to my day, but for some reason, I soon felt relieved and grateful that there were no injuries and the accident was essentially minor. (Note that "minor" resulted in $1600 damage to my car, but in the grand scheme of things, it was a minor inconvenience).

I had called my boss to tell him I’d be late for work, and also called my wife to basically let her know what had happened. When I arrived at work, word had apparently spread and everyone asked if I was okay. I was and I thanked them for their concern. The same situation occurred when I met my wife later that evening. I assured her and my kids that I was fine and that we’d have to get the car fixed soon. Again, gratefully, there was no real problems and the eventual insurance claims and car repairs went smoothly.

As it turns out, it seems more than co-workers and family was concerned for my well being. "I am sorry you were recently involved in an auto accident." "We are so sorry this misfortune has happened to you." "If you have been injured, we’re here to help." I have been virtually overwhelmed with good wishes and people who are concerned with my well being. In particular, 6 attorneys and 3 chiropractors have taken time out of their busy day to offer their condolences and assistance. How nice of them.

I suppose that if I had been injured and wanted to protect myself, I might welcome such an inundation of legal and medical options. One thoughtful lawyer stated, "I apologize if this letter seems to invade your privacy." As I think about that, I realize they’re not apologetic at all. After all, even though my accident is public record, one has to search for or be at the right spot to know when such records are fled. Do they have a paralegal or hired help sitting at the hall of records just waiting for accident reports? Does someone at the highway patrol send a mass email to all attorneys and chiropractors informing them of the details of an accident? And what of the basically nice lady that hit me? She was a pleasant individual and readily admitted fault. She was not rude, she was apologetic and I was grateful of that. Still, did the very same people contact her? And as for the attorneys…would they have taken the side of which ever one of us called them first? No, they’re not apologetic at all, because they count on this information for their bread and butter.

I can’t really call them vultures. I would say they are necessary in many cases, especially where serious accident and differing accounts of what happened occurred. But the fact that the police report noted there were no injuries doesn’t seem to phase these people. They all simply assume that there was an injury, despite the report. So it’s not the invasion of privacy that gets to me, but the assumption of what’s best for me. It almost makes me think of the reckless paparazzi that follows Britney Spears and other celebrities. They don’t care what happens to the person they’re following. They only care about how that person can lead to them making a buck.

Trying to Remember the Good Stuff

2008-01-22T15:17:00.000-05:00

When my dad began writing his book a couple years ago, he stated that he was doing so in order to keep the memory of my mom alive after her passing. At the time, I thought it was a sweet gesture, but also wondered if "fading memories" was more a sign of getting older than it was of just not having someone around. After all, my mom had been around my life, well, all my life, so I couldn’t fathom having such memories simply disappear.

I looked at the calendar this morning and saw that this is the third anniversary of her passing. As I think of Mom, my thoughts immediately go to that dark day three years ago when the Putnam County Hospital called me so early in the morning. I recall my mom phoning a couple of days prior and talking to my kids in a confused and desperate manner. I remember how she looked during the Christmas visit only a few weeks earlier. But beyond that, I realize that I have to strain hard for specific memories…the good memories. When I imagine "Mom," I picture her last days. And that’s not really the memory I should or want to keep.

But if you read above, I think you’ll see what my problem is. I stated that today is the third anniversary of her passing. An anniversary should be a celebration. Today is not such an anniversary. So I think I merely need to adjust my thinking. My mind is dwelling on when she left us, and not for the many years of her life before.

So after today, I’ll no longer mark January 22" on my calendar as I subtly do. I won’t forget the day, but I will forgive the day. It’s a day that an unfortunate circumstance occurred in my life (and others), but no more. What I’ll begin to celebrate more, even if only privately, will be July 9, 1934. That’s the day she was brought into this world, not taken out. Even more, I’ll celebrate October 31, 1962, for that’s the day I was introduced to her. If I dwell on those days, then the good memories will come back. I think Mom would appreciate me just moving on to the next day, and the day after that...embracing my kids as she did me and my brother...and just send a smile her way and remember the good stuff instead. I’ll begin to remember the woman who took me to swim lessons on chilly mornings and made me cocoa-wheats to warm me when I returned home. I’ll recall her bowling on her Tuesday morning and Thursday night leagues…and kicking ass. I’ll recall her making fudge for no reason at all after dinner. I’ll remember the taste of her Christmas tree cookie batter that I’ve never been able to duplicate. I’ll remember being slapped in the face for saying, "fart" when I was 10 (yes, that is a good memory…now).

I miss my mom…and always will. But every time I see my daughter smile at me, I know Mom is smiling too. (She has her "Mam-ma’s" eyes for sure). She’s not gone as long as the memories stick around. And as long as I cling to the good ones, and the one’s about her living life, they’ll stick around forever.

2008-01-11T22:08:00.000-05:00

So many blog ideas, so little time. It seems as I come up with a new idea about what to write, there just isn't enough time or opportunity to put such thoughts onto monitor. I apologize to those who have anticipated my words. I'll resolve to do better in 2008. And that leads me to my first posting...my 2008 resolutions. I know, I know...EVERYBODY has posted his or her resolutions. But bear with me.

Like most other folks, I resolve to maintain a healthy diet, to exercise more, to work harder, and to play even harder. But face let’s it; these should be daily resolutions, not yearly resolutions. So what should be my true New Year's resolutions?

First, I resolve to embrace more and envy less. It's difficult to turn on the television or read the paper without witnessing someone experiencing a better lifestyle than me. Perhaps it is a beer commercial where everyone is young, attractive and having fun. None of them are toiling away at work and worried about sick kids at home. Maybe it's a celebrity that's vacationing on an exotic island and then flying off to attend a party in some other location. Surely they don't have the worries of bills awaiting their return or whether or not they'll have to mow the lawn. They might have a nice house, or a nice car. They might have a job that pays so much more than mine. They have more time with family and can take seemingly unlimited vacations. Heck, I actually KNOW people with such good fortune and I have envied them in the past. I wanted what they had. But then again, they don't have my family. I have a great family with no real drama (at the moment). I have a job where my efforts are appreciated. I have good friends with whom I can confide and share laughter. I tend to enjoy life overall. And as a result, I am choosing to embrace the wonderful things I have and envy others less.

Next, I plan to avoid any entertainment or "information" that preys upon the humiliation of others. This is just plain cruel for the most part. A prime example of this is the new Fox show called “Moment of Truth” where the host asks contestants extremely personal questions while they are strapped to a lie detector. Why on earth would anyone want to be subjected to such humiliation? Well, obviously the answer to that is "money." Still...what about those poor souls on American Idol that audition with no talent? Sure, some of these people are hoping for fame and fortune simply by being bad, but I’m convinced many have a real dream to sing. And despite their lack of singing talent, why is it we get so much enjoyment out of seeing people’s dreams crushed? Not for me thank you. And please, leave Britney alone. The poor girl needs help and I think we can all agree to that. Having an army of photographers and reporters follow her every bowel movement is bund to drive her crazy, even beyond and mental illness she may already have. Have you noticed how many flash bulbs are going off while she’s driving past? It’s no winder she keeps running over photographers’ feet, she can’t see for the flash bulbs! Just leave her alone…and please don’t offer me more “entertaining gossip” at her expense.

My third resolution is to try not to condemn a person when it’s their skills that need criticized. There might be co-workers, retailers or other service personnel that simply seem like idiots. They might be incompetent or merely lack the skills to perform their job functions. Still, most people are somewhat hard working and have someone in their life that respects or looks up to them. That ass in accounting has a kid screaming in glee for Daddy when he goes home at night. The snobbish sales woman has an ailing husband at home. The young lady serving you your appetizer takes her paycheck home to pay for her child’s dental bill. We all have stresses in life and often time, we take our stresses out on other people. They’re perceived as asses, idiots or whatever you want to call them. And while admittedly some just never seem to learn, others are simply having a bad day. As a result, I’ll think about the people in their lives before I start condemning the individual.

My final resolution is to find a “cause.” Such a thing doesn’t necessarily involve a lot of monetary contribution, but rather devotion. Perhaps it will involve something in which my kids will become active, such as raising funds for a dance studio or volunteering to be an Indian Guide. It might be more involvement in some charitable endeavor, whether it be prostate cancer awareness, blood (triglycerides) health or supporting the Lupus Foundation. I might not be able to contribute funds, but perhaps I can participate in a march, or donate the receipts from a garage sale. And with the election year ahead of us, maybe my cause will be politically motivated. Or maybe my cause will be something of which I have no awareness of at the moment. Whatever the case may be, I think it’s important to have a cause…and at this moment, I really don’t. I tend to go along with the flow and just try to be all things to all people and causes. But honestly, it’s time to embrace “something” bigger than myself. I hope this year to do that, no matter what it may be.

And that is what makes the upcoming year such an exciting time. Something new is bound to happen and I’m convinced it will all be good. So as a result, I resolve to be as good as what I intend to receive. Sounds like a fair deal to me.

The 2007 Christmas Letter

2007-12-20T01:22:00.000-05:00

If you received a Christmas card with this blog site listed, welcome to the 2007 Estep Family Christmas Letter. If you’re a regular reader (Jeff), welcome as well…and Happy Holidays!

Like any year, it’s been a year of milestones and firsts. Luckily, there was a minimum of obstacles encountered this year, so I’d have to say it was a pretty good year.

Once again, we endured a winter in North Carolina virtually free of snow. I’m not sure whether the kids (Kaitie and Nathan if you’ve forgotten…) remember what snow is and I know for certain that they’ve never built a snowman. Keep your fingers crossed for some of the white stuff this coming year!

Despite the lack of snow, we still had quite a cold winter, so we headed down to Florida in March for a two-week vacation along with Kim’s parent’s (Wayne and Eileen). Week one was the most family-oriented as we spent our time in Orlando. We visited the Magic Kingdom for only one day, but what a great day it was for the kids. Never did mouse ears look so appropriate on two smiling faces. We also visited SeaWorld on a very blustery Florida Day. Otherwise, the weather cooperated beautifully.

The second week was spent at Daytona Beach at the Ocean Walk Resort. It was an incredible unit with a magnificent view, but our timing was off as we hit a very loud Spring Break week. Still, we had a ton of fun among the tattooed and pierced partying college kids, at least until the next-to-last day when Nathan put the “break” in Spring Break and busted his collar bone on the water slide. I think his “adventure” in the emergency room was his most exciting event of the entire trip.

Once we arrived back to NC, Nathan again garnered the attention of some medical folk when he had one of his molars extracted. It was the first out-patient surgery for either kid and I’m happy to say that the parents survived...barely. Nathan came out like a champ.

Both kids reached exciting milestones in the beginning of the summer. First of all, they both donned their blue mortar boards and graduated from Carolina Kids Academy. Not long after, they both reached their 5th birthday (I have NO idea how they became big kids so quickly). And then in mid-July, both kids started kindergarten at Olive Chapel Elementary, complete with back packs large enough (on them anyway) to serve as a sleeping bag. (For those wondering, the school system here has year-round classes). An extra-added bonus was having a visit from the kids’ Pap-pa and his new wife, Kitty. And for the record, I’m thrilled that Kitty is part of the family.

After six weeks of school, Kaitie and Nathan reached their first “track-out” time. In year-round talk, tracking-out means that they take a 3-week vacation between roughly nine weeks of classes. We took advantage of this time and traveled to Massenutten, VA where we met up with Dad and Kitty again as well as traveled alongside Wayne and Eileen .

School started back up in September, but Kim and I took a nice mini-vacation for our 11th Anniversary…an over-night getaway (our first alone since the kids were born) including a half-day spa treatment and a wonderful dinner (with no kid’s menu).

The celebration was a last-hurrah of sorts as I was ordered by my doctor to go on a fairly strict low-carb diet in order to get my cholesterol in check. I’m happy to report that my blood levels are in great shape and that the entire family is following a much healthier lifestyle. Not a bad way to wrap up the year.

We hope all of you had a healthy and wonderful 2007 and wish you the best throughout all the holidays and into 2008.

The Results Are In

2007-12-10T11:14:00.000-05:00

If you recall, back in September, I was presented some alarming numbers regarding my blood health. Basically, my doctor accused me of "streamlining carbs" or "going on a drinking binge" because my cholesterol and triglycerides were so out of whack. After the appointment, I set some goals to improve my health, specifically the blood health, by my December 5 lab appointment. Well, the results are in.

To remind you, my measurements in September were as such:

Weight = 164 pounds (although I was 166 when I started my diet)
Triglycerides (TGs) = 667 (Less than 150 is preferred)
Total Cholesterol = 260 (Less than 200 preferred)
HDL (good cholesterol) = 41 (Greater than 40 preferred)
LDL (bad cholesterol) = Unmeasurable due to high TGs (Less than 130 preferred)

My goals for my December appointment were:

Weight = Less than 150 pounds
Triglycerides below 300
Total cholesterol less than 175
HDL around 45
LDL, no goals set, but was hoping for below 130.

My results ARE:

Weight = 151 (close enough…lol)
Triglycerides = 107
Total cholesterol = 138
HDL = 60
LDL = 57

For the first time since I've had my blood checked (20 years or so), my good cholesterol actually exceeds my bad cholesterol. And my TGs have NEVER been as low as 107. Needless to say, I'm pretty happy!

And so is my doctor. He sat flabbergasted as he read my results, telling me he'd never seen such a turn-around. Then he floored me when made one statement. "How did you do it?"
I told him about my diet, and he literally wrote down the foods I ate and even the recipe for the ricotta cheese dessert! Naturally, the medication of Zocor and Niaspan was a major factor in my results, but the good doctor was quick to point out that there is no way I could have had these results without my changes in diet.

So, at this point, I'd have to say my diet has been a success. My goal was met, but that doesn't mean celebrate with a 4-pound bag of M&Ms and a tray of cupcakes. No, my celebration will be to continue to live as I have for the last 3 months. I'll still crave those snacks; much like an alcoholic craves a drink. But when I fall off the wagon, I plan to be smart about it (like the single servings enjoyed over Thanksgiving). Christmas sweets and snacks will be enjoyed to a minimum and healthier snacks will take their place. I've learned that it's possible to live within this lifestyle, not just exist.

As for new goals, my next appointment is in 6 months (June 4, 2008 for blood work). My goal is to be a couple of pounds lighter (under 150) and to maintain the same blood levels. Right now, I'm still wearing the same slacks. They might be a bit looser now, but not as much as one might think. I hope to be down to that 33-inch waist in 6 months and hope to be in a better exercise routine.

Thanks to everyone who has offered encouragement, recipes and stories of your own over the last 3 months. My fight for better blood is not over, but will continue the rest of my life. I look forward to having you join me.

The Spirit of Christmas is On the Air

2007-11-19T16:31:00.000-05:00

We’ve all gone to the mall or discount store before Halloween and noticed the shelves already stocked with Christmas items. Each year, it seems to happen earlier to the point that it’s almost a cliché joke to hear Holiday music while one is still wearing shorts and sun block. Well now, you can hear that same Christmas music in the comfort of your own home, without tossing on your old Bing Crosby LPs or your Mannheim Steamroller CD.

Last season in Raleigh, there was one particular radio station that played all Christmas music. They used to be Sunny 93.9…the station that overplayed Elton John and Celine Dion. On November 1 of 2006, they became all holiday music, all the time. Well, at least until after Christmas, when they became Kiss 93.9. The format changed from easy listening to “feel good” music…ranging from 80’s dance to today’s more upbeat music. Frankly, I enjoy listening to 93.9 now and then when other songs hit “overplay” status on my preferred stations. I assumed they would convert to Christmas on November 1 again this year, but hearing “You Dropped a Bomb on Me” by the Gap Band convinced me that they canned the holiday genre.

Eventually, I began to wonder if any station would be playing holiday tunes this year. Admittedly, it was pretty early in the season, but with all the store decorations flooding my senses, it made me wonder if in fact we’d have an official Christmas station this year. As I scanned the radio dial, I found that 102.9 indeed was “Carolina’s Official Christmas Station”…even endorsed by Santa himself. Christmas had been saved! There was now a guaranteed 24-hour sound track to accompany all yuletide activities. Still, it’s pretty early in the year for Nat King Cole and Jose Feliciano. After all, this was around November 10…nearly two weeks before Thanksgiving!

In the morning, I generally listen to 101.5. They have played the same adult contemporary style music for as long as I can remember. The music is okay, but I typically listened to their “morning show” deejays. In fact, they’ve even talked about a couple of my blogs on the air, so I have a special place within me to listen to these guys. Well, on November 14, I tuned in as I normally do, and lo and behold, Elvis’ “Blue Christmas” blared from my speakers. Surely this was only a once-per-hour type of airing. But subsequent songs proved that assumption wrong. Mix 101.5 was now broadcasting exclusively from the North Pole.

Over this past weekend, I was painting my bedroom (another blog-worthy venture in itself) and turned on my son’s boom box for accompaniment. After a while, I realized I just wasn’t in the Christmas music mood, so I turned from 101.5 back to 93.9. What I heard was good Ol’ Bing singing “White Christmas!” Could this be the right station? Yes it was. 93.9 is now playing “Kiss-mas” music until the big day itself. So we now have not one, not two, but three “official” Holiday music stations in the area (and not one adult contemporary station).

I suppose I can understand the logic. After all, what other genre music exists where so many people know the words to so many songs? I dare you to listen to an hour of Christmas music without humming or singing along to at least one of the songs. And what other type of music invites the likes of Andy Williams, Josh Groban, Annie Lennox, Faith Hill, Mariah Carey, and even Twisted Sister equally onto the airwaves? When you think about it, as irritating as so much yuletide music can be, it’s the most popular music there is. So what radio station general manager wouldn’t want to pump up advertising revenue with a little Jingle Bells and Little Drummer Boy?

As I close my thoughts, Gene Autry is crooning “Here Comes Santa Claus.” My toe is tapping, I find myself humming, and I think of my kids’ impending giddiness at the thought of Saint Nick. You know, maybe Christmas music should be played more often after all.

South Beach Thoughts

2007-11-14T17:43:00.000-05:00

It’s been over 6 weeks since I’ve entered the South Beach lifestyle. I’m about 12 pounds lighter now and thought I’d present a few highs and lows from my journey thus far:

Biggest Surprise: It’s not so hard. I’ve been amazed at how easy it’s been to fix dinners and even find some meals available at restaurants. Just make sure you like salads and chicken.

Biggest Challenge: Exercising. I continue to have trouble finding time to exercise the last few pounds away. My belt tightens and my slacks are bigger, but I feel like if I exercised a little more (a LOT more) I’d actually go down a couple inches in the waist.

Biggest Frustration: Not knowing the effect on my blood until December 5th. I know the weight loss is helping my overall health, but as I’ve said before, it’s about my blood health. They don’t make a triglyceride scale to stand on…yet.

Best Diet Meal: I’ve learned to cook sirloin steak consistently well, along with grilled peppers and other vegetables. However, as god as the George Forman grill is, it dries out steak WAY too much. One must cook it up on a skillet if not grilled outside.

Worst Diet Meal: It’s a tie between two meals I’ve prepared. The pan-fried salmon was quite good, but the smoke created nearly brought in the fire department. That’s one dish best cooked on the outdoor grill. The one I didn’t like was the baked cod. I think cod is meant to be fried or grilled, not baked. Rubber bands tasted better.

Best Diet Dessert: My creation of Cocoa Ricotta Crème. Take ½ cup of part-skim ricotta cheese, one packet of sweetener (Splenda), ¼ teaspoon of extract (I use both vanilla and peppermint extracts and my wife likes coconut), and ½ teaspoon of unsweetened cocoa. Mix together, top it with Cool Whip Free…sprinkle a pinch of cocoa for good looks…and enjoy! However, make sure you use Polly-O brand ricotta. Others have a cottage cheese texture which takes away from the experience.

Worst Diet Dessert: Ricotta Crème without the flavoring. I only endured that once. Thank god for cocoa.

Best Cheat: I am an M&M freak. I love my M&M’s. Of course, any type of candy is basically banned within this diet, so this was a worry for me. I’ve found, however, that I can satisfy my cravings by simply having 2 to 4 individual M&M’s. Not four handfuls like I used to eat, but just four M&M’s. This handles my chocolate fix without gulping down a ton of carbs.

Biggest Grocery Frustration: In the interest of time, I usually cook (or rather, heat up) a Jimmy Dean omelet for breakfast rather than cook my own eggs. The two most available types are the Three Cheese and the Ham and Cheese. They also make a Western Omelet that quite delicious, but only Kroger carries it. For the last 3 weeks, they’ve been out of the Western Omelet. Dang it…why doesn’t anyone carry the best one?

Best Grocery Surprise: South Beach is EVERYWHERE. I have to question the 11 grams of carbs South Beach approved cookies, but they claim to be acceptable under Phase 2. Hopefully, the people at South Beach, Inc. haven’t merely sold out to Kraft to market their product and that these foods really are good for you. The fact is, no processed or frozen packaged food is as good as home cooking. But living in this hectic drive-thru microwave world, it’s a decent compromise to find an "acceptable" meal now and then.

Best Side Effect: There have been two side effects from this new lifestyle in addition to weight-loss and (hopefully) healthier blood: an appreciation of "better" food and a more healthy…um…morning bathroom session. Okay, so maybe this is TMI, but frankly, when I was on a higher carb and higher fat diet, my time on the "throne" was not the healthiest experience. Since increasing the fiber and cutting the fat, let’s just say that I leave with a healthier feeling.

Worst Side Effect: not so much from the diet, but from the medication. Luckily, I’m not experiencing the predicted hot flashes when I take my full-dosage of Niaspan. However, a more subtle side effect is itching. There are some mornings where I swear there’s a ton of ants crawling on me or biting me. It’s quite irritating, but luckily not an every day occurrence.

So, the journey continues. I’m hoping to be a few pounds lighter by my doc appointment on December 5, and also hope that my belt will tighten by one more hole. So far, it’s been an easier change than expected, although I do still miss the occasional donut and bag of M&M’s. Still…it’ll all be worth it.

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!

2007-11-02T01:24:00.000-04:00

I suppose when most people approach an upcoming birthday, they remember celebrations from their past. When I have such thoughts around my birthday, I tend to recall goulish masks and scary costumes. (Thank goodness my birthday is on Halloween or else I’d need major therapy). Personally, I recall sheets worn over my head in a blinding fashion, my Man from U.N.C.L.E. mask that nearly suffocated me, and a devil costume that my mom hand-sewed for me, complete with pointy tail. As I aged into my teens, the disguises faded to the yearly dressing as a "hobo" merely to pass the costume cops so that I could beg for candy. Upon entering college, youth was reborn (with the help of a keg of Iron City Light) as I recall dressing as Zorro and a couple of other less flamboyant characters. But no costume rests deep within my memory as well as the one I wore in my late 20’s. In the early 1990’s, I not only dressed the part, I became Beetlejuice.

My incarnation as Beetlejuice occurred completely by accident. As Halloween approached in 1992, my girlfriend at the time insisted we visit Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Most areas across this country have at least one town within driving distance that is famous for their intense Halloween celebration. Chapel Hill is such a town. Every October 31, costume-clad college kids gather by the thousands to Franklin Street to display their creativity, ingenuity and depravity. (82,000 people attended the celebration this year). Three types of people gathered on "The Hill"…the observers who merely watched in amazement, the slightly-costumed who walked the streets (usually with beer in hand), and those that appeared to have been dressed by Hollywood’s best special effects artists. For this particular Halloween of 1992, I was content to be an observer, but my girlfriend insisted on dressing to some extent. I had no objections since I’ve always enjoyed the spirit of the holiday.

I found an old pair of surgical scrubs and frizzed out my hair (which was a LOT longer back then) so that I’d look like a mad doctor. I added black circles around my eyes for that crazed effect. I have to admit, for a 30-minute plan, my costume looked pretty decent. We ventured to Chapel Hill, parking about ½ mile away, and was immediately lost in the crowd. I was amazed, as this was my first visit to the celebration. Frat brothers dressed as a group of Vikings riding a boat…9-foot tall monsters…and plenty of other expertly dressed partygoers. And as I said before, there were thousands of costumed individuals roaming the street. However, no mater where I walked, I kept hearing someone yell, "Beetlejuice!" Being a fan of the movie, I kept looking around for someone donning the black and white striped suit and a hideous mask, but I never saw such a person. "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!" It finally dawned on us that they were yelling at me! While my focus was on the mad-scientist look, I never realized that I had such a resemblance to Beetlejuice, but in fact, the hair and the black eyes created a remarkable likeness. From that point on, I claimed to be dressed as Beetlejuice, but in surgical scrubs.

The next year, I found a white sports coat and white pants at the Goodwill store and applied black duct tape all over. I also let my hair grow out from the beginning of August until Halloween and bought an assortment of "Beetlejuice-like" props such as large bugs to chew on and plenty of green, black, red and white make-up. I also rented the movie and watched it several times so that I could learn the nuances and voice. By All Hallow’s Eve, I had transformed into Beetlejuice.

I must have pulled it off, because I won several costume contests over the next few years. One award was given at a friend’s party where everyone pitched in 5 bucks. I think I won about $150. I also entered a contest at an Applebee’s where I won second prize, which was a neon bar sign that I sold in a garage sale the next year. The winner was a very bosomy Elvira. Most of the judges were male. The biggest prize and thrill of the season was when I attended a contest at local bar. Hundreds of folks gathered and I ended up winning "Best Impersonation." First prize was a trip for two to the Bahamas. You would be amazed at how many attractive women hit on a Beetlejuice-looking guy when he has such a prize in his possession. However, I never cashed in on that prize. It turned out there were too many fees involved to make it anywhere near "free."

The greatest reward I received as Beetlejuice was on trick-or-treat nights. The neighborhood kids delighted at seeing Beetlejuice greet them at the door, although admittedly, the younger ones were a little intimidated. I probably caused many children to have a fear of clowns after the parents assured the tikes that I was "just a clown." But the funny thing is that kids would come by in the summer time and ask if Beetlejuice was going to be back the next year. Even the ones that were scared asked that. Despite the silliness of it all, the kids liked it. And that is a better reward than any neon sign or faux trip to the Bahamas.

The Beetlejuice costume has been long tossed aside…partly because my hair (what’s left of it) just couldn’t take the punishment, and mostly because I’ve moved on to other things in my life. I have a new "girlfriend" (I now call her "wife") and I have two little trick-or-treaters of my own. Perhaps one day I’ll resurrect Beetlejuice, but right now, he’s best tucked away as a pleasant birthday memory. From here on out, my future memories will include Spiderman and a Ladybug, and whatever else my little ones dress up as in the future. And those memories will be better than ever.

A Year Blogged By

2007-10-22T23:33:00.000-04:00

It’s been a year or so since I began writing a blog. I started doing so because a few people suggested that I should stretch my writing muscles. I like sharing my thoughts without conveying too much of my personal life and my hope has been to make you smile, cause a reaction and inspire you to think a little. I seem to have done a little of each judging by my readers’ reactions. I’d like to review my first year a bit here and perhaps solicit even more reaction.

I’ve blogged about a wide range of topics. One of the more controversial stances I took was regarding Breast Cancer Awareness (“Not just Breast Cancer Awareness...but ALL Cancer Awareness”). My intent was not so much that the pink-ribbon campaign was over-blown, but rather other types of cancer were being ignored. I most certainly support any effort to alleviate breast cancer and have no problem “buying pink.” However, I’d like to see a more aggressive “blue ribbon” campaign towards prostate cancer. As I type that, I imagine Pabst would be the primary sponsor of such a campaign, but there seriously is a blue ribbon effort to increase prostate cancer awareness. Sadly, since this is probably the first you’ve heard of it, I suppose their efforts are not too successful. Regardless, please understand that I’m not “Anti Pink Ribbon,” but pro any ribbon towards cancer awareness.

I forwarded “The Christmas Ball,” about the golf ball that my brother and I exchange each year, to several local media, including radio and newspaper. I was pretty thrilled to see a brief mention of my story on a newspaper website, and even more excited to hear the local “morning crew” talk about this holiday tradition at length on the radio. I gladly wrote down the suggestions that they and their listeners suggested for future exchanges. Although I have to admit, I’m not sure how to place a beat-up and burnt golf ball into a puppy. Yes, that was a real suggestion.

Another piece I sent into the local media was “Kaitlyn and Katlin.” about the poor 4 year-old girl that was found decapitated by her own father. I was so furious with that murder that I forwarded my blog to many people. While I never saw or heard mention of it in such print or on the air, I did receive a few comments from a radio DJ and one local reporter. I just wish that reporter would have shared my comments in the paper.

It seems, much like “Kaitlyn and Katlin,” most of my “venting” pieces get the most fired-up responses. My take on Kwanzaa (“Spell Checking Kwanzaa”) resulted in “Hell yeah!” agreement as well as cries of racism. If anything, it was “holiday-ism.” “Advice to the Stupid” brought forth sheepish admissions from dear friends that they were the idiot drivers toward whom I was complaining. Like they say, love the sinner, hate the sin. Just don’t take offense when I give you a one-finger salute…I still love you. And I’ll still wish you all Happy Holidays come Christmas time, no matter how many people claim I’m either non-Christian, un-caring or are in agreement with my point.

Probably the one blog I’m asked about most (and the one I’m most proud of) is the one about my dad writing a book (“My Dad the Author”)…with most inquires about how his book is doing. I’m happy to report, “quite well!” Frankly, after selling his first couple dozen in the first weeks, I wasn’t sure just how successful he’d be beyond that. I liked the book and others around dad liked the book, but I figured the demand would be finite, and that he’d have trouble selling past the first couple hundred. I was wrong. So far he’s sold about 800 books! It seems his top niche is to attend Nitro High School class reunions and peddle his book there. At the Class of 1957 Reunion a few weeks ago, he sold a remarkable eighteen books. And in early September, the Charleston Gazette-Mail printed yet another story about Dad, complete with a very handsome photo. But his success hasn’t come merely in book sales. Shortly after I visited Dad last October, he sent a book to a lady he attended school with so many years ago, Emma “Kitty” Lyons. Kitty sent a note along with her order referring to Dad as a “kindred spirit.” He likes to joke that the term impressed him very much, especially after he looked it up I the dictionary. Seeing as how neither Dad nor Kitty owned a computer, an old-fashioned pen-pal relationship began, which evolved into the occasional phone call and then into a number of phone calls a day. Finally, in a move that surprised both my brother and I, Dad traveled to Fort Myers, Florida to visit Kitty for an extended stay. That visit turned into a wedding ceremony and a very happy and reborn Dad. And for the record, I approve of Kitty. She’s a great gal.

There have been plenty of unwritten blogs that I’ve composed in my head, but never had time to write. The aforementioned addition to our family was certainly blogging material (Tentatively titled, “E-Step-Mom”), and when you’re the father of 5 year-old twins, there’s an unlimited amount of observations, joy and heartache I could share. I had several pieces planned on our March vacation to Florida alone, from watching the kids’ first experience at Disney World and Sea World, to our first LONG road trip, to spending a family week at Daytona Beach during Spring Break Week. (No kids, Daddy was NOT looking at the tattoo on that young girl’s backside.) I was fortunate enough to have time to share some kid-related thoughts in “Pop and Circle Dance” and “Gosh darn, son-of-a-gun…this friggin’ crap has me all screwed up to heck.” It seems that kid stories always get the most laughs, and I hope to share more in the future.

Finally, you’ve probably noticed that my blogging has focused on my health lately. I hope not to bore you with statistics on triglycerides and cholesterol, or with whining about my lifestyle change along the South Beach and beyond. So far, the response from my readers has been very supportive and I thank each and every one of you.

Many have given me encouragement to continue writing beyond my expectations, and others have offered their own blogs as inspiration and mentoring for me to continue mine. I hope to keep you coming back to my pages and ask that you spread the word if you have a reaction to my thoughts. After all, it’s your reaction that keeps me writing in the first place.

Entering a New Phase

2007-10-17T12:42:00.000-04:00

Phase One is complete, and let Phase Two begin! Whoo hoo!

Okay, so Phase One was not nearly as bad as I first thought. Sure, I’m sick of salads and meat, but by the end of the two weeks, I had my homemade dressing recipe down just right and have been almost looking forward to my morning V8 (almost). My nighttime ricotta cheese dessert has been refined to be such an enjoyable experience, I may continue to savor the cheesy treat beyond this first Phase.

So what were the results of Phase One? Sadly, not as good as advertised. The "Book of South Beach" claims that the average weight loss from Phase One is typically 13 pounds. Obviously, some people have to have a lesser weight loss to keep that average down, and I was one such person. After losing 7 pounds the first week, I actually gained 0.4 pounds the second week. I was a bit discouraged this morning after I weighed in, but that disappointment was soon replaced by quiet jubilation, as I had to pull my belt one hole tighter to hold my pants up.

I have to constantly remind myself that it’s about my blood and not my weight. Sure, I want to lose a total of 15 to 20 pounds, but it doesn’t have to be lost overnight. The truth is, although I followed the diet over the weekend, I ate a packaged "South Beach" dinner for lunch yesterday and a Wendy’s Chili and side salad for dinner last night. Again, both are within the diet parameters, but the salt content was probably high on both and that led to an equal increase in weight for both my wife and I. In fact, I was 1.8 pounds heavier today than yesterday, so it’s all basically relative to the previous meal. And that’s why I say I want to lose 15 to 20 pounds, and not 17.5 pounds. One needs to shoot for a goal range and not a specific weight. A person’s weight probably fluctuates 2 pounds either way, depending on the day and the last meal. But if you stay within a 5-pound range, then you’ve stayed the course. So you see, I’m not really all that disappointed because I’m keeping it all in perspective.

As for the South Beach dinners, I find it funny how some of their own food contradicts their diet parameters. For instance, they suggest that only high fiber cereal with 3 grams or less of carbs be consumed. The South Beach brand cereal has 4 grams. What is boils down to is, despite packaged foods and restaurant faire being within a diet’s guidelines, nothing beats home-cooked fresh food, especially for weight loss. With that in mind, I’m sure I’ll have good results in the next few days.

I keep saying, "it’s about the blood." In case you’re wondering, my next lab work is scheduled for mid-December. I’ll try not to be too preachy about it or too whiny about not knowing my blood counts until then. You’ll all be the first to know what they are.

More on my life tanning on the South Beach in a few days.

(Update…I wrote this piece on Monday, but due to my busy schedule on Monday and Tuesday, I wasn’t able to post this until Wednesday. Since writing this account, the salt effects have worn off and I’m now down an additional 2 pounds!)

Week 2 Report: Cravings and Dilemmas

2007-10-11T16:18:00.000-04:00

No specific topic of discussion today, but I wanted to check in briefly and let you know how things are going.

I’ll report my weight loss progress on Monday, in that I’m trying to keep it to a weekly report. However, I do weigh myself every morning and, well, I’m on a plateau it seems. Perhaps things will change by next week. I’ll let you know.

One of my weaknesses has been when I’m really hungry (skipped a snack due to work issues) and really craving some carbs. My mouth literally drools when I see a cookie or a donut. I swear I feel like I’m coming off an addiction at times.

The biggest obstacle of the week was how I handled eating out. I mentioned before that my family and I went to Red Lobster last week with great success. Well, on Tuesday, we went to Perkin’s for my wife’s birthday dinner. Not the fanciest of places to celebrate, but we knew we could get an omelet. And what a large omelet is was! Also, earlier that day, I had two salesmen take me to lunch. I was good and ordered grilled chicken breast and salad, but what a large meal it was! (No…I will not say "What a large breast it was!" That’s tacky). So for both meals, I was "good." The next day, I had gained two pounds! That’s when it hit me that I have to be aware not only of WHAT I eat…but also HOW MUCH I eat. It seems simple after I say it, but it’s not.

One thing I keep struggling with is the weigh versus blood health issue. I shouldn’t be so bummed about not losing so much weight this week, but more aware of how what I’m eating affects my blood. Still, I get discouraged at minimal weight loss. I shouldn’t, and I need to get out of that mindset, but I still do.

I also find that I’m planning for "when I get off of Phase 1." Meaning, after this weekend, I can start re-introducing some carbs in the form of fruit and whole wheat breads. But I’m also starting to think that the occasional indulgence in the name of special occasions should be acceptable. For instance, my birthday is coming up in 3 weeks. If we follow the same routine as my wife’s birthday, I’ll have no cake. But would one small piece of cake harm me? Not really. But what WOULD be harmful would be to have cake around the house for the whole week afterwards, nibbling away piece by piece every day. My logic allows just a little taste, but my resolve starts to reason that "just a little taste every day" is acceptable. It’s not. That’s where my biggest struggle will continue beyond Phase 1.

Lastly, thank you for your input on my medicine versus diet dilemma. My plan was to always continue my diet and exercise, but I wasn’t sure about taking all the meds. I decided to take the pills for now. Partly because one of the sales guys I had lunch with on Tuesday had been tackling the same issues as I for over 11 years. He mentioned the drug interaction is very rare, and as long as the doctor is watching me closely, I’d be fine. I know we’re all different with different reactions, but his experience put me at ease. He also had undergone a quadruple bypass, so his lifestyle was rudely forced upon him. I have a choice, and choose not to have a bypass. As a result, I’m taking the niacin along with the Zocor for the blood, and continuing the lifestyle changes for my overall health (and for my family). But I’m also happy to say that, after 3 doses, I have yet to have a "hot flash." Let’s hope that continues.

Have a great weekend everyone. The weather is going to be beautiful here and I figure I’ll start my walking exercise in full force on Saturday morning. I’ll whine about that next week.

One week down, a lifetime to go!

2007-10-08T09:24:00.000-04:00

Today marks one week since I started the South Beach Diet as part of my lifestyle change. Or maybe more of a shift. Anyhow, the results are in and I’ve lost 7 pounds! Seven pounds in as many days seems to be a consistent rate of weight-loss, but in reality, I lost the first 5 in two days, the next pound took four days and the final pound disappeared over night. I attribute the initial loss to water weight…or at least that’s what everyone says about every diet. The next four days were a bit frustrating in that a couple of days, the dang scale didn’t budge a bit. This morning was a pleasant surprise when I dropped a pound, and I’m sure that has a lot to do with me mowing the lawn in humid 90-degree heat yesterday. Nothing like a good aerobic workout to knock off a pound.

This leads to my next obstacle in my overall lifestyle change: increasing my exercise. Each day at lunch, I’ve been taking a 15 – 20 minute walk at a pace that shouldn’t allow me to stink the rest of the day, but enough to get my heart rate up. The only time I waiver from this routine is when my co-workers join me and the walk turns more into a stroll in the park with nary a heavy breath. Although these daily walks certainly help, I’m feeling I need more. The one thing that actually improves "good cholesterol" (HDL) is exercise. Meds help of course, but exercise would be the better approach. So here’s my dilemma…I work and live a very hectic schedule where I’m constantly cooking, bathing kids, and doing house chores the moment I get home from work up to when I fall asleep for the night. There’s no time for the exercise. My morning is equally hectic from wake up through commuting to work. If anyone has any ideas how to fit an exercise routine into this day, let me know. I used to walk the treadmill once I got home and combined that with some light weight-training. I could probably start that back up again with minor adjustments to my day, but I’m still open to other ideas.

One discovery over the weekend was finding the number of walking trails in my neighborhood. While I knew they existed, and occasionally walked one particular path, I found that there are quite a few additional trails that connect to an overall network of trails within the town. I’m pretty excited by this in that I could easily take the kids with me "exploring" new trails.

Another somewhat exciting discovery this weekend was my ability to eat out within the constraints of the diet. A couple of friends often remind me of how bad it was for my family and I to eat out so much. Tuesday’s were devoted to Chick-fil-A; Thursdays to Jersey Mike’s; Friday’s and Saturday’s to where ever struck our fancy; and Sunday’s were generally fast food or frozen pizza at home. Those days we ate "in" were often meals of pre-packaged foods, such as the pizza, Stouffer’s lasagna, etc. If nothing else, this new diet has eased me away from that eating-out lifestyle. I believe we cooked and prepared every meal last week except for the South beach frozen dinners we had for Friday night (I just didn’t feel like cooking). On Saturday evening, we had intended to fix dinner at home, but found ourselves out shopping and running errands like we do so often. We opted to go to Red Lobster where I had grilled tilapia, veggies, broccoli and salad with water. Perhaps the only negative aspect of this meal with the saltiness of the fish, but I really felt no guilt or feelings that I cheated on my diet. No, we’re not going back to eating out 4 to 6 times a week again. However, it’s nice to know I don’t have to forgo one of my few social activities of enjoying a decent restaurant now and then.

Now I have one more request of you. Today marks a very scary beginning for me. My previous prescription ran out and today I’m to start the new prescription. To fight the cholesterol, I’m to take Zocor once at night. I’ve taken this before and it actually helped to reduce the bad cholesterol a lot, but it didn’t do much for the TGs. The second and more worrisome medicine is Niaspan, or niacin. My previous prescription (Advicor) was kind of a Zocor-niacin mix in one pill, with niacin adding up to 1000 mgs. Now, I’m supposed to take 1500 mgs of niacin along with the Zocor for one month and then up it to 2000 the next month. My concern with this drug combination is that they could interact negatively together…a bad interaction. No matter which website I look view, the combo is bad news. Admittedly, the Advicor had the same concern and it had no affect on me, and my doctor assures me that I’ll be monitored closely for any adverse reactions. But the increased niacin has me a bit worried. The niacin is also what makes me feel like I’m burning up (hot flashes). I haven’t had a hot flash episode for over a week now (hmmm…since I started the diet) and I’m not looking forward to them starting back up again.

Anyhow, here’s where I need your opinion. When I go back to the doctor’s office in December, he’ll check my blood. If the results are great, how am I to know whether or not the results are from my lifestyle or from the new medical cocktail? Should I skip taking the niacin (against doctor’s orders) and take out the medicine variable to see if diet and exercise along will work? Or should I basically follow the doctor’s orders, take the medicine, and then discuss my lifestyle changes at that point? I welcome all opinions, and I know many of you out there will have pretty strong opinions about both sides. That’s why I like my readers so much.

Things are going well, but there’s still a lot more to do. One week does not a new lifestyle make, but it’s a start.

Day 4 - Milk versus Beer

2007-10-04T12:59:00.000-04:00

It’s Day 4 of my diet. Oops, that should be Day 4 of my new lifestyle…I still have to get used to that. A diet might end once the goal-weight is achieved and more sensible eating will maintain the weight. In a lifestyle change, those dietary restrictions need to be followed for the rest of one’s life. That’s my case, although I’ll probably whine about it until the day I die. But if this works, I’ll be around a lot longer to do the whining.

I sit here taking a break at work, munching on a chunk of Laughing Cow Light Cheese…very yummy. I’ve always liked cheese anyhow, so this is a pretty typical snack for me. For lunch, I packed a salad with some smoked salmon to add protein; a homemade dressing of olive oil, red wine vinegar and various spices; and a container of sugar-free Jell-O. Instead of my normal staple of Diet Coke, I’ve packed some Lipton Diet Green Tea, which I’ve become quite used to drinking. My afternoon snack will be a repeat of yesterday’s snack: some raw vegetables dipped in humus. I’m really surprised how good some of this is. And for breakfast this morning, I had a western omelet with sausage, and a little bit of skim milk.

Milk? I know that I mentioned that milk is a no-no, but I stumbled onto something last night while surfing the net. In response to one of my blogs, someone questioned as to why milk is a "Food to Avoid" on Phase 1 of the South Beach Diet. I really didn’t have an answer because I assumed it was related to the fat in milk, but skim milk was also to be avoided, so this didn’t make sense. What I found in my search were two things. First, skim milk is not banned due to fat (since there is none) but due to the lactose, or milk sugar. Lactose is as potent a sugar as raw table sugar when it comes to its effect on insulin (and therefore triglycerides). To get around this, I should consider lactose-free milk or soymilk…a prospect at which I really didn’t look forward. However, the second item I found was a 2004 addendum to the South Beach criteria. Basically, it allows up to two servings of skim milk per day! My SB book was printed in 2003 and I wasn’t aware of this update until last night. Other updates include allowing tomatoes and onions to be consumed in an unlimited basis and the inclusion of carrots in the later phases of this diet. (Carrots are very high in sugar, but apparently the fiber involved helps to offset). Anyhow, I was very happy to find this latter bit of information while at the same time, the first bit of info reminds me that need to drink milk in moderation. Water is still the only real recommended liquid to consume.

While I was at it, I decided to surf for information about one other consumable liquid: beer. Probably the biggest no-no with regards to TG’s (the official medical abbreviation of Triglycerides) is consuming alcohol of any kind. When I checked on the benefits of red wine, all I found was that the negative influence of alcohol on TG’s far superceded the health benefits. Basically, the liver needs to process the alcohol upon consumption. But it’s also the liver’s job to process the sugars, carbohydrates, insulin and TG’s in the body. In addition, alcohol is pretty much converted directly into TGs. It’s a chemical, physiological thing that I can’t really explain, but trust me. Anyhow, all this I already knew, which is why I’ve been drinking O’Doul’s Amber Non-Alcohol beer for the last few months. True, even NA beers have some alcohol. The way NA beers are made is that they brew the beer normally, and then remove the alcohol at the very end. There will obviously be some residual alcohol left in the brew, so "Alcohol-Free" is a bit misleading. Still, I wondered if NA beer is acceptable.

Sadly no, but not because of the minimal amount of alcohol. All beer contains maltose, which is a sugar. Apparently this sugar is one of the more kick-ass sugars there are, and it’s directly responsible for the common beer-belly. The worst kind of fat to have on one’s body is in the middle: the beer belly. Unfortunately, maltose is not removed in the process of NA or light beers…it’s just something that’s in beer. And I can’t have it.

I know it seems like I’m whining, but I’m actually just expressing some of the obstacles that I need to overcome. You see, this is why it’s a lifestyle change and not merely a diet. I got lucky with the milk in that I can enjoy that the rest of my life, and I actually like skim milk. I didn’t get so lucky with the beer. I suppose I could search the net for non-alcohol wines, but since fruit juices are also a no-no (fructose is the fruit sugar), I seriously doubt fancy grape-juice would be allowed either.

The good news is I’m allowed a lot of good things. And I’m starting to get used to the taste of V8. I’m enjoying that I’m cooking and setting a better example for my kids. I’m challenged by and enjoying the allowed foods, and looking forward to re-introducing some old favorites in the next phase of the diet, like most fruits (apples, strawberries, blue berries, grapes, etc), whole wheat bread and pudding. It’s still gonna be hard, but it’s been easier than I thought, and that has to be a good first step to a new lifestyle.

Why are YOU dieting?

2007-10-01T15:57:00.000-04:00

Well, today’s the day I started my new diet. I have to admit, I had one hell of a "bachelor party" this past weekend in anticipation of marrying up to the ol’ South beach Diet. Buffalo Chicken sandwich on Friday, a ton of Japanese steakhouse food on Saturday, a huge breakfast buffet on Sunday morning, and a big ol’ Chicken Parmesan that I couldn’t finish on Sunday evening. Not to mention the cake and cookies and ice cream and wine I shared throughout the two-day anniversary celebration. The events were fun, but the food was completely decadent. I should be thankful that I didn’t die of a heart attack! So I weighed in this morning at 166.2 pounds. That’s 2 pounds more than Saturday morning thanks to the weekend of binging. Still, today is the first day of the diet so 166.2 is the official starting weight.

Here’s where I hear a lot of people ask, "why are you dieting? You’re a small guy! You don’t need to diet!" Unfortunately, I hear that a lot. I suppose a lot of people would feel good about people telling them they look fine, but for me, it’s not about the weight. As you know, it’s about the blood and I won’t get into the details again. So when I answer, I usually have one of several answers in mind:

"Well, you haven’t seen me naked." This usually gets the more entertaining reaction, but when I say that, I’m referring to the "beer belly" that I have (even though I no longer drink beer). The fact is, I’m a small guy. I’m short and I am "small-boned," so the belly-fat on me isn’t as apparent. Unless I tuck in my shirt (which I need to do at work), I can usually hide the belly pretty well. But once the shirt comes off in the bathroom, it’s quite apparent that my torso had seen better days. It’s this mid-section fat that is apparently most dangerous. That’s all I need…more health danger
"Maybe I look this way because I’m eating this way." I thought it was always funny that people think others should eat fatty or "bad" food…that the only time one should eat "good" food is when they’re losing weight. I have a news flash for you; healthy eating keeps you from getting fat. Period.
"I’m not trying to lose weight. I’m trying to improve my blood health." You know the reasons behind this answer, so I won’t bore you.

The problem with people telling me I look like I don’t need to diet is that sometimes, I start to believe it. When I look in the mirror, I suck in my gut and think, "maybe they’re right." But in reality, they’re wrong. I DO need to diet, or at least follow a better diet. And I imagine you do, too.

Now, let’s talk about Day One of the diet a little. The hardest part of the day thus far has been substituting V8 for my OJ. I’m sure I’ll get used to it, but it was not a pleasant experience. My snacks should be salty, not my breakfast drink. The next hardest has been not drinking milk. South Beach doesn’t allow milk during the first two weeks. Although I usually only drink it during breakfast, you can bet what my first consumption will be once the two weeks are up.

My "approved" snacks have kept me from getting hungry…cheese sticks and nuts. And my lunch of salad with chicken strips and strawberry Jello was actually quite good. I think the only reason I’m feeling any hunger right now is due to stretching my stomach to the size of a VW Beetle.

I’ll be measuring myself tonight and taking photos. I’ll share the measurements, but not the picture…at least not yet. My plan is to present the before photo when I’m ready to reveal my after photo. I’ve always been one for drama.

Stay tuned as I venture further into the dieting world.

Pre-Game Warm-Up

2007-09-27T22:03:00.000-04:00

It’s been a week since my doc slapped me in the face with high triglyceride levels and told me to shape up. So what have I done about it? Planning mostly…which admittedly doesn’t take one pound or reduce one cell of gooey blood. So, let me share my plan.

I mentioned triglycerides a lot in the last blog. The types of food that increases trigs are carbohydrates and alcohol. I’ve already quit drinking alcohol (with the exception of the wine tasting vineyard tour on vacation a couple weeks ago), so now I have to cut back on the carbs. There are a couple of diets to consider…the more popular being the Atkin’s Diet and the South beach Diet.

I lost some significant weight and lowered my trigs using the Atkin’s diet a few years ago. The only problem was that I got real tired of eating nothing but meat and eggs. I felt greasy and my breath stunk. I never bought into the whole Atkin’s diet because of the lack of grains (bread) and fruit. These are basic foods that NEED to be consumed. At least that’s what my health teacher taught me many years ago. So while facing this current challenge, I decided not to give the late Dr. Atkin’s another chance.

Next week, I’ll be starting the South Beach Diet. My wife lost a lot of weight using this diet in the past, and since I’m the house cook, I lost some weight along with her. South Beach isn’t about eliminating all carbs (except for the first week) but about eating the right carbs…such as whole grains and fruit. This diet makes much more nutritional sense for me.

My biggest challenge when facing this diet will be the first two weeks when I have to follow an Atkin’s-like, low-carb plan. No late night fig newton snacks. No morning bread, waffles or orange juice. No M&M’s. Just basic meat, eggs and vegetables. I’ll survive, but I’ll be grumpy after the first couple days I’m sure.

Why am I waiting until next week to start…why not now? Basically, we have a lot of food in the house that’ll go to waste after we start this new diet. Yes, we…as my wife will be dieting alongside me. This week, I’ve been eating up the last of the waffles and cereal. I’ve been eating those fig newtons. And I’ve been eating the last of the frozen entrees in the freezer. However, I have started making some changes. I’m transitioning from OJ to V8 (not an easy transition I’ll admit). I’m choosing salads when eating out, which we do far too much of anyhow. And I’ve gone cold turkey on M&Ms.

One other reason we’re dieting "starting next week" is that my wife and are celebrating our 11th anniversary this weekend. We’re going to pamper ourselves for a local but overnight "getaway" to include a dinner at one of our favorite, pre-kid restaurants. This get-away also includes a full breakfast the next morning. While we COULD structure our meals to the newer diet, I think we want to savor this last taste as we celebrate. Call it a bachelor party for diet. The thing is…we’ll still be ordering sensibly, in that we’ve found that eating "bad" things makes us now feel…well…bad. We’re embracing the new diet and merely giving the old diet a little push out the door over the weekend.

So the slight changes in the diet this week is kind of a pre-game warm-up. The real battle starts on October 1. I’ll make sure to share every thought and activity in embracing this new lifestyle.

Thanks for all the encouragement and comments thus far.

Triglycer-Al

2007-09-26T00:34:00.000-04:00

It's been quite a while since I've blogged; far too long in fact. I apologize and hope to be more diligent in my blogging. But if you know me…you know I get busy and easily distracted. Therefore, I won't promise to be back regularly, but will I promise to make the effort. How's that for a wimpy commitment?

Speaking of commitment, I have to get much better at it. I'm not talking about a fear of relationship commitment…I've already overcome that (refer to wife and two kids). What I'm referring to is the commitment to better health. I have a very high triglyceride count, along with high bad cholesterol (LDL) and low good cholesterol (HDL).

While many of you have probably heard of cholesterol, you may not be as familiar with triglycerides. Triglycerides (or trigs, as I'll call them) are cholesterol's secret and mysterious cousin. There's not a lot of actual medical evidence that states that high triglycerides alone are bad for you, but there's an awful lot of suggested and statistical evidence. For instance, a whole bunch of people who've had strokes also happened to have high trigs. High trig counts are also associated with low "good" cholesterol. HDL, or the good cholesterol helps to improve blood flow in arteries. The best way to improve HDL is to increase exercise. Therefore, it goes to reason that trigs could be reduced with exercise.

The challenge my doctors have been faced with over the years is how to keep my LDL and trigs down while my raising my HDL. Many years ago, I took a medicine that lowered my trigs vastly and well within the goal levels. However, both the good and bad cholesterol's were minimally affected. This seemed fine for a while until the medical world decided that even higher HDLs and lower LDLs were to be maintained. It was then, about 4 years ago, that the musical-medicine game began.

Previously I was prescribed Lopid…a drug for trigs only. Later, I was prescribed Lipitor, which worked well for the LDL, but my HDLs remained low and my trigs started to rise. I moved on to Zocor, which has similar results, and to Advicor, which contains Niacin. The Niacin is intended to lower the trigs while the rest of the med is to attack the cholesterols. One side effect of the Niacin is that I experience pretty intense flushing, which is very similar to having hot flashes. My doctor assured me that there was no harm to come from these hot spells, only extreme annoyance.

After trying this lasted med, my levels were measured as follows:

Triglycerides 667, Ideal: Less than 150
Total Cholesterol 260, Ideal: Less than 200
HDL 41, Ideal: Greater than 40
LDL Unmeasurable due to triglyceride count

As you can see, this latest medication isn't doing the trick alone. What's really needed is a lifestyle change…and this is what this series of blogs is all about. I hope to document my quest for better health. I plan to eat better and exercise more, which I suppose we should all do. But for me, eating some foods like cookies or M&M's is a near addiction, so it isn't gonna be easy. Plus, my current lifestyle and personal schedule doesn't allow time to cook complex recipes. I've learned that "convenience food" is nearly the same as "junk food," no matter if the packaging says "Light" or not. And it's not all about eating food; it's about living better. It's about getting out to stretch and build the muscles. And it's about making the gooey blood go away.

So what I plan to share here are the joys of success and frustrations of failure. Let's hope there's less of the latter. I'll gladly accept encouragement as well as tough love. I'll read all suggestions for recipes, work-out programs and whatever else you have to offer. Maybe this blog series will be entertaining and maybe it'll bore your socks off. Either way, it's therapeutic to me and my goals and I merely invite you to peek in.

As for those goals, here they are:

Lose 15 to 20 pounds. My current weight is about 1Z4 and I hope to get between 1X4 and 1X9. (and no, I'm not telling my weight…lol)
Lose at least one inch in the waist. My pants are 34-inch waist, and while that might seem slim, it's really not for my body shape. Plus, I'm wearing stretch waistband slacks…and the elastic is stretched to the limit. I'm probably more of a 35 or 36. I want to wear 33 without the stretching.
Lower my Triglycerides to below 300 by my December 5 appointment and to below 200 overall.
Lower my overall cholesterol to below 175.
Raise my HDL to about 45.

To be honest, the easy part will be losing the weight and inches. It'll be more difficult to control the blood because a lot of my problem is hereditary, and not just related to food (remember those TV commercials with the people that look like food? That's my situation). But the hardest challenge will be to maintain those levels once I reach those goals.

So…get ready….get set….get better!

Did you remember Flag Day?

2007-06-14T13:08:00.000-04:00

Happy Flag Day everyone! Um, you DID know that it was Flag Day, right?

I don’t mean to sound overly patriotic or to take any specific political stand. It’s just that, had I not heard it mentioned on the morning news, I would not have known that today is Flag Day either. After all, it’s not a holiday that involves a day off of work, nor is it really a holiday that inspires fond memories of Flag Days past. Do you remember what you were doing on Flag Day ten years ago? Five Years ago? Last year?

Actually, I do have one memory of a Flag Day spent in Baltimore on a business trip back in the late 1980’s. As I searched for a place to eat along the Inner Harbor, I noticed all the restaurants were jammed packed. When I asked a local what was going on, he said, "why, it’s Flag Day of course." It turns out that Baltimore has a big celebration every year with bands, parties and fireworks since this is the site where the Star Spangled Banner was written (Fort McHenry and all that).

Anyhow, my point is that Flag Day seems to be a largely ignored holiday. Thanks to the reminder on television, I hoisted my flag this morning as I headed off to work this morning. However, I didn’t notice one other flag during my 17-mile commute. This is in sharp contract to the days and weeks following 9/11. I remember counting well over 50 flags during my morning commute. It was a tough time for us all and I think many of us found solace in the newfound patriotism and proudly flew the flag. And although you’ll see quite a few flying on July 4, it’s a shame that we can’t remember to fly the flag on other days, such as Memorial Day, Veteran’s Day, Armed Forces Day, and of course, Flag Day. And again, I’m as guilty as anyone else. But I am proud to say I do own a flag, and I hope most folks out there own one as well...whether it be a small mail-box sized flag or a larger one to hang off a pole. I think it’s important to have one in every household.

So in celebration of this day, I thought I’d post few flag and Flag Day facts you might find interesting. There’s plenty of websites out there with additional information, just google it and you’ll find it.

Despite an official resolution regarding the flag being issued in 1777, it wasn’t until 1912 that the order of the stars and proportions of the flag were officially prescribed by executive order.
There has never been specific meaning assigned to the colors of the flag itself. However, the official Seal of the United States contains the same colors and are designated as such: "White signifies purity and innocence. Red signifies hardiness and valor. Blue signifies vigilance, perseverance and justice"
A flag is flown upside down to serve as a distress signal.
When flying a flag at half-mast, it should be raised to its peak, and then lowered to the halfway point. When taken down, it should again be raised to its summit before lowering.
The flag should be flown at half-mast on Memorial Day from sunrise until noon. At noon, the flag should be raised and flown at full-mast until sundown.
A flag historian is called a vexillologist
The blue field with the stars is called the "union."
Until 1818, an additional stripe as well as a star was added to the flag for each new state. After 1818, the flag has returned to and remained at 13 stripes.
A five-pointed star was rarely used in any symbolism prior to its use in the American Flag. Most stars had previously been presented with six points.
The are 19 different holidays that are designated as days in which the flag should be flown. I won’t list them all here, but the list includes Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Happy Flag Day!

Gosh darn, son-of-a-gun…this friggin’ crap has me all screwed up to heck

2007-06-12T13:20:00.000-04:00

My son’s daycare teacher reported that she overheard the boy using the F-word in the playground the other day. Needless to say, I decided to have a little talk with him later that evening.

"Did you say a bad word in school today?"

"Maybe."

"Well, the teacher told me you did. She told me you said a word that begins with F."

He looked confused. "No, I used another word. I told a friend that he was an idiot, and you said that ‘idiot’ is not a nice word." Technically, the boy was correct. We’ve tried to teach our kids not to call others by bad names, even if the word isn’t technically bad.

I smiled as I watched his disappointment in saying the word "idiot." "Well then, make sure you try not to call anyone an idiot again."

"Okay, I promise not to call anyone a fucking idiot again."

Okay, so this is where I needed to be sent to the emergency room for biting my tongue so hard, stifling the laughter. As it seems, my son never knew that the F-word is bad because he merely had overheard someone else say it. Sure, he could have heard is from me, but later discussion revealed it was another classmate. To my son, the F-word simply was not bad because he didn’t know it to be bad. "Idiot," however was a bad word.

This got me to thinking about bad words in general. The fact that someone is called an idiot is not perceived as a taboo statement in society today. However, add a supposed obscene adjective, and the statement is offensive. Why is the adjective offensive versus the derogatory noun? And what about an adjective that means the exact same thing. Let’s say "freaking" instead of "fucking." Is calling someone a "freaking idiot" any less offensive than being called a "fucking idiot?" Apparently so, because you hear the word "freaking" all the time on television. (Or "friggin’," "fricking," "flipping," or some other derivative).

Why is it that any kid can talk about poop or feeling like crap, but is considered a delinquent if that kid mentions the word "shit?" Is "shit" so much different than "crap?" It means the same thing…so why is one acceptable over another?

I’m not proposing a change to our language, nor am I supportive of my kids, or any others, speaking with a foul mouth. I just think it’s funny that it’s not the meaning of such words that are offensive, but just the words themselves. Wouldn’t you think the intent of such words, no matter the level of obscenity, would be the true measure of offensiveness?

Thinking about it just makes me laugh my ass off. Oops, I can’t say "ass", can I? However I can write the acronym of LMAO. Oh heck, now I’m really friggin’ confused.

Pop and Circle Dance

2007-06-08T10:31:00.000-04:00

Last night, I attended one of the first milestones in my childrens’ educational career: The Daycare Graduation Ceremony. It can be called nothing else but cute as 24 little kids marched in a single row dressed in their caps and gowns to the sound of Pomp and Circumstance (or as my kids say, Pop and Circle Dance). They sang a rendition of Zip-a-Dee-Do-Dah ("Pre-K was fun, lot’s of learning and play…Zip-a-Dee-Do-Dah, Zip-a-Dee-Ay"), followed by "I’m a Shining Star" to the tune of "Itsy Bittsy Spider." Again, cute…or perhaps even adorable.

I stood with my video camera in a row of similarly donned parents that resembled coverage at any Presidential Press Conference. Cameras clicking and video whirling as the kids all sat down in a row while the director addressed the crowd and praised the children. When the diplomas were to be handed out, each child was told to come up one at a time, take the diploma, hug their teachers, and go back to their seat. The first three children complied as instructed. The fourth child (ironically, the director’s child) ran up before his name was called. That set a precedent as all kids started to head towards the podium. They still stayed in line, but not in the same order. Watching the teachers and director quickly sort through all the diplomas and hand them out was probably only a hint of the day to day challenges they faced in their class. I had to admire their patience and decorum in controlling the potential chaos. In no time, all the kids were seated again with diplomas in hand, most of them flicking at the tassels that hung from their mortarboards. Finally, the children were asked to stand up one more time, turn to the parents and cited a quick poem to thank the parents and state that the daycare will live in their heart forever. Cute.

The ceremony was followed by a slide show in the air-conditioned classroom (thank goodness). Although the show lasted about ten minutes too long, it was fun to hear the kids call out the names of their friends whenever said friend’s face appeared on the screen. As with all of the evening, it was more fun to watch the kids than the presentations or speakers involved. After all, it was the kids’ moment.

Before the cake was served (which brought the largest cheer from the kids), the teacher’s shared philosophical statements shared by the kids over the past year. I’d like to share those of my kids with you now:

Rather than say "It’s better to be late than never," my daughter stated, "It’s better to be late than early." Unfortunately, she lives that philosophy to the letter (as does her mother) every day. My son’s take was, "It’s better to be late than at nine o’clock." My son, the cryptic philosopher.
We’ve heard that "too much of a good thing can be bad." My son stated that "too much of a good thing can be playing with toys." I guess you can never have too many toys, or time to play with them, as is evident by out over-flowing playroom, which used to be a dining room. My daughter went the most logical route with, "too much of a good thing can be the most."
Especially when being around kids, one has to be reminded that "patience is a virtue." My daughter has decided that "patience is a wait." Somehow, that makes sense. The boy stated, "patience is nice." Of course, it would be nice if either child practiced patience.
Finally, so close to Father’s Day, we’ve all heard the phrase, "Father Knows Best." My children had a different view of father…being me. My daughter was kind enough to announce that "father knows how to do a head stand." This is true, although doing so usually has my kids tackling me right away. And my son summed me up by saying, ‘father knows tricks." I’ll hold back comment on that.
One more statement I’d like to share from an undisclosed classmate shows the logic of children at this age. "Why can’t the Spanish teacher learn English?"

Drunk Driving Kills

2007-06-05T16:12:00.000-04:00

George Alwyin Smith was driving westbound on Insterstate 40 to work Monday morning as he has for many years prior. He was a 55 year old father and people say he was a model citizen and neighbor. Michael Caldera De Latorre was driving the other way along Interstate 40. He veered across the median and hit George's week-old Kia. George died.

The police report that Michael smelled of alcohol. Turns out that Michael is also an illegal immigrant. He was driving a stolen vehicle from Charlotte so he must have left the Queeen city a few hours prior. He was probably drinking heavily before getting into his car. Hell, he might have been drinking while he was driving.

An entire debate can be born from the fact that De Latorre was an illegal immigrant with a driver's license. And I'll be glad to participate in such a discussion. But the fact is that he was drunk, no matter the status. And he was driving.

In about 10 years, I'll be 55. My kids will be around 15 and anxious to learn to drive, thinking I'm an uncool parent, and starting to experience so many cool things in life. I want to see that. I hope to hell that another Michael De Latorre isn't on the road as I drive to work.

Next time you're thinking about driving after having a drink, think of the other Georges on the road and don't be a Michael.

Year-Round Upheaval

2007-05-03T23:38:00.000-04:00

For those of you not from my immediate area, we are experiencing phenomenal growth. The Triangle area of North Carolina continues to be named best place to live in the country by various magazines for various reasons. Best Place for Singles. Best Place for Families. Best Place for Business. Best Place for Yahtzee Players. You name it…we’ve been named the best. So what’s been happening? Everyone is moving here at an astonishing rate! In 1990, the town of Apex had a population of about 6,500. In 2000, that number jumped to over 20,000. Today, the number of resident is estimated at over 31,000. The once peaceful 2-lane roads have either been gridlocked with traffic, or expanded to 4 and 5 lane highways. The small town businesses have been over-shadowed by the big box retailers. And the schools are overflowing with children.

Drive by any public school in this area and you’ll see an array of “portable” units - outdoor classrooms with underpinning. It seemed this was enough to hold the kids until new schools were built. But the families kept arriving much faster than the schools could be built, and now the schools are literally busting at the seams. The local school board thought long and hard about how to handle this issue. One solution was a one billion dollar bond to pay for new schools. This passed…but the schools still could not be built fast enough. Finally, the board decided on year round schools. The kids could be divided into 4 “tracks”. At any one time during the year, 3 tracks of students would be attending class while 1 track would be on break. The sessions would last about 9 weeks with a 3-week vacation between each session. So, if 100 students lived in the area, only 75 would be in school at any one time while 25 would be on break. So. This seemed like a good idea…and in fact, the board decided to mandate this schedule for only a few schools. The problem was…some parents just didn’t like it.

I’m not sure exactly why. Perhaps the parents recalled their childhood of lazy summer days in simpler times. Or maybe there were other kids in the family attending a traditional schedule school (such as most high schools) and having multiple school schedules was just too much a pain. Or perhaps, they didn’t like the fact that Bobby might not be able to attend softball or soccer or swim team practice, or participate in band with such a schedule. Nevertheless…19 elementary schools (and 3 middle schools) were mandated to start the year-round schedule, thus orientations and arrangements had begun by schools, families, and out-of-school care programs. The year-round school year was to start on July 9…about 2 months from now.

Regardless of the plans to modify school programs and schedules, a group of complaining parents sued the school board. Many thought it was a useless and frivolous suit. After all…everything was already being changed to accommodate the year-round schedule. Well, today, Judge Howard Manning decided it was unconstitutional for the school board to mandate year-round schools. So now…who knows what the school year will hold in 2 months.

Now let me share my commentary. Year-round school is my preference. I have twins that, barring any failure of a grade, should be in the same grade throughout their educational career. There is no chance that I’ll have one kid in year-round school while another child attends a school on a more traditional schedule. I feel that any extracurricular activity wills more than likely accommodate the school’s schedule, so soccer games and swim meets will still be offered. And my kids are in year-round day care now, so there’ll be virtually no adjustment to the schedule for them and minimal adjustment of the family scheduling as well. In addition, I feel that year-round schooling is better for the kids. Again, it’s just my preference. Respectfully, I understand the argument for traditional scheduling for reasons I surmised above. Additionally, on a 9 week program, is can be argued that the first week and last weeks would be hardly efficient as most first and last weeks are not. This would result in only 7 weeks of good schooling in a 12-week period. Like I said, I understand and respect their point…it’s just not my preference.

My point for this vent isn’t the argument for or against year-round school. It’s 100% about the fact that a judge’s decision at the eleventh hour has resulted in the upheaval and uncertainty of the upcoming school year for 20,000 kids. The school board, which I believe strongly considered all options before deciding on year-round schools, must now revisit and decide on another plan, and enact it in less than 2 months. There is no way an appeal of the judge’s decision will save this school year, so schools are forced to respond quickly.

One oft-discussed option is that of split shift school attendance. This would divide the school into two shifts of 7:00AM to 12:30PM and 1:30PM to 7:00PM. Now I ask you…would you prefer year-round, or traditional with your child attending school until 7:00 at night? And if such child attended the late shift, when exactly is he or she expected to do his or her homework? Certainly, once arriving home and eating dinner at 8:00, bedtime is soon to follow. And for a good amount of families, the parents go to work early the next morning as the children are taken to some off-hour school care. One other point about this split shift is that a full lunch would NOT be provided. Therefore…would these 19 (plus more) schools have to fire their cafeteria staff?

The School Board is having an emergency meeting tomorrow. I wish them the best of luck. And I truly hope that whatever decision they’ve been basically forced to make will be honored and not met with a lawsuit. For goodness sakes…let’s just get the kids into school and not teach them how to misuse the civil law system to get what they want at the expense of 20,00 other kids.

Could You be Listed in a Database of the Mentally Ill?

2007-05-01T00:04:00.000-04:00

As most of you know, some idiot shot the place up at Virginia Tech last month. The guy sent a video to NBC and we’ve all seen bits and pieces if his rant. I think we can all say that the guy was a mental case.

The Governor of Virginia issued an executive order requiring that a database of people banned from buying guns include the name of anyone who is found to be dangerous and ordered to get involuntary mental health treatment. Apparently the idiot (the shooter…not the governor) never checked “Yes” next to “Are you a Psycho Maniac?” on his gun application. When a background check was done, his name never came up because he was merely an outpatient mental patient…not an admitted inpatient one...so he wasn't on the existing database. This new executive order will now start including such mentally ill folks, and hopefully, background checks will catch such psychos in the future.

I’m 100% behind such an order…but then again, I’m in favor of gun control. No, I’m not going to turn this into a “right to arms” debate (gun control and one’s right to own a gun can peacefully co-exist, but that’s another blog). But there is one concern I do have over such an order. Right, now, the order talks about those who are found to be dangerous and ordered to get treatment. But what if such a database was expanded for EVERYONE that was treated for mental illness. Are you all for it? Think about it again.

One has to ask…what IS mental illness? Is it being a “rich kid and women” hater like the VT shooter? Is it someone who’s severely depressed or withdrawn? Is it someone who is prone to panic attacks? What about someone with unsettled nerves? See where I’m going? Who that’s reading this has NOT been treated for some type of depression or anxiety? Somehow, I think all your hands are still firmly on your mouse…mine included. Does that make us all mentally ill?

The Virginia Governor is 100% correct in his executive order. But when the next headline shooter is found to be taking Paxil for depression or Xanax for an anxiety disorder…be careful. The next database expansion could include your name. Maybe no big deal if you never intend to buy a gun…but you may one day apply for a job. Just something to think about.

Kaitlyn and Katlin

2007-01-18T10:45:00.000-05:00

I live in a small town near Raleigh, North Carolina. I have a daughter who’s 4 years old. Her name is Kaitlyn. Like all kids her age, she can be the poster girl for angelic cuteness one second and a devilish troll to test one’s patience the next. I have hugged her and told her I love her far more times than I’ve had to punish her. As for punishment, it usually consists of scolding her. A Daddy’s disappointed gaze is a lethal weapon at times. I have also spanked her. No a belt-welding, butt-blistering spank, but a hard enough smack on the behind to get her attention and sting a little. In every case of punishment, I’ve followed with a hug and an apology. These don’t happen often because she’s a good girl, but she is a 4 year-old kid.

John Patrick Violette lives in a different small town near Raleigh, North Carolina. He had a daughter who’s 4 years old. Her name was Katlin. It’s been reported that she could be the poster girl of angelic cuteness. But knowing 4 year olds, I’m sure she could certainly test a parent’s patience at times. It’s been stated that John used to hug his daughter often. As such things go, no one knows if he ever punished Katlin. Well, no one knew until last Friday.

Yesterday I took the afternoon off since my son had been sick. I had lunch with the family, including Kaitie and her mom. Mommy left and I stayed home with the kids…kind of a daddy-kid day. We had fun playing, but Kaitie was also in a bit of a mood. I had to give her the daddy-gaze once or twice, but otherwise, the day went well. Mommy came home in the evening to find the kids peacefully asleep and the dishes and cutlery put away. I was on the couch watching television.

John quit his job last Thursday. On Friday, he had lunch with Katlin and his wife, Amber. Amber left for work and John stayed home with his daughter…kind of a daddy-daughter day. We have no idea what went on in the afternoon…whether little Katlin’s mood was angelic or devilish. Mommy came home in the evening to find her daughter decapitated in the hallway of their home. A knife apparently was later found to be blood stained. John had hopped a plane to Washington, DC where he was found the next day.

This morning, I awoke to see snow falling onto the ground. My kids were sleeping in since it was Mommy’s day off, but I made sure to awaken them before I left for work. Being in this part of North Carolina, it rarely snows. This was one of the few times my kids had even remembered seeing snow, so they were quite excited.

In another small town near Raleigh, North Carolina, it’s also snowing. I’m not sure John can see the snow. He’s in a jail cell now, awaiting his fate. His wife probably sees this snow, but can no longer awaken her daughter. Instead, Amber will be trudging through the snow to attend her daughter’s funeral. A Carolina snow that Katlin will never see.

As I left for work this morning, my daughter Kaitie sleepily said, “be careful Daddy, I love you.” I replied, “I love you, too. Now go back to sleep and sleep well.”

Rest in Peace Katlin. Burn in Hell John.

The Christmas Ball

2006-12-21T00:51:00.000-05:00

For the past 15 or so years, I’ve had a ball at Christmas time. Oh sure, I’ve had a great time, but I’ve also had an actual ball...a golf ball to be exact.

You see, my brother and I went golfing some 20 years ago and both spotted someone’s lost ball in the tall grass. If you’ve never golfed before, please understand that finding a lost golf ball is as precious as shooting a good score, especially when you’re two young and broke guys like we were. Being the brothers we are, we both laid claim to the ball, but rather than fight like, well, brothers, we decided to play the hole for it. The best score for that hole won the ball. I still think he cheated.

Sometime over 15 years ago, my brother and I were still young and broke, but we still made sure to exchange gifts at Christmas time. We lived hundreds of miles apart, so we made sure the packages were small and cheap to ship. I received a small, tootsie roll-like package from Jeff that year. It turned out to be a paper towel roll with the golf ball inside. (I guess he felt guilty about cheating). Not to be outdone, I decided to return the favor the next year and, well, returned the ball. This continued for a couple of years…both of us jokingly knowing what was contained within the tootsie roll-like package. One year, I changed the rules.

I read an article about a couple of guys (maybe brothers as well) that exchanged a pair of jeans each year. The jeans were torn and ratty, but the “gift” was in the challenge of how to package the jeans in the most creative way. Inspired by that article, I started our current tradition when I found a 3-D puzzle that required several complex moves to be able to dismantle the puzzle. I took it apart, placed the ball within and reassembled the puzzle while throwing away the instructions. This was the first official “Crazy Golf Ball” exchange, back in 1994.

Jeff responded the following year in an equally creative manner…with a candle shaped golf-ball that contained the ball itself deep within the wax. I decided to honor the spirit of the wrapping by burning the candle until the ball was exposed. Unfortunately, this left a nasty smell in the house and a lasting scar on the ball itself. But this wouldn’t be the first scar.

Over the years, the ball has been packaged in many ways. I have packaged the ball in a snow-globe (luckily the water stayed in); a Christmas ornament that I had my sis-in-law hide on their tree; within an apparent used diaper (the “poop” was melted chocolate and oatmeal); wrapped in twine and masking tape (I was running out of ideas); and super-glued within a block of Legos. In response, Jeff has sent the ball to me wrapped in a large ball of yarn (in honor of my cats); embedded in a commemorative brick; within a decorative holiday “kissing ball;” cooked inside a large Hershey’s kiss; and last year, I received the ball in large ball of hard candy.

This year, I asked a favor of a local machining shop to help me encase the ball in a steel container. Unfortunately, they got a little overzealous with the welding and the ball is quite charred now. I’m not sure if this will mark the end of our tradition, or whether the charred and cracked appearance of the ball will just add to the character. Either way, I’m sure I’ll continue to have a ball at Christmas.

Happy Holidays...yeah, I said it!

2006-12-20T15:42:00.000-05:00

Happy Holidays!

Yes, I said “Happy Holidays”…so go ahead and boycott me. Accuse me of being too politically correct, question my Christian faith and deny me the Wal-Mart happy face sticker because I said, “Happy Holidays” rather than “Merry Christmas.” But hear me out first…

When I grew up in the suburbs of West Virginia, we celebrated Christmas. The only Jewish people I knew of were comedians and entertainers on TV and the only black folk (now called African Americans) I knew were the two that went to my school. It was just the way things were back then. There was rarely even a passing mention of Hanukkah, and I’m not even sure if Kwanzaa was a holiday yet. All we celebrated back then was Christmas…and we celebrated it like most of the rest of the country. We had our Christmas tree…we hung our Christmas lights…we attended our parties…and we watched our TV specials. Of course we watched the classic animated shows, like Rudolph, Frosty and “Here Comes Santa Claus.” However, I recall other Christmas specials hosted by various celebrities. Who do you think of when you think of old Christmas specials? Bob Hope? Bing Crosby? Perry Como? Andy Williams? And can you guess one of the songs that Andy Williams was famous for singing? You got it…”Happy Holidays!”

When I grew up, the phrase “Happy Holidays” was a heartfelt greeting of the season. If one had to decipher the meaning, I’d say one was wishing happiness throughout the holiday season. The question then arises, what IS the holiday season? If you ask the retail world, and I have to agree, the holiday season starts on Thanksgiving and ends on New Year’s Day. Saying (or singing) “happy holidays” is merely a way of wishing folks well throughout this time frame. It’s not a politically correct cop-out to include those who celebrate Hanukkah or Kwanzaa. Those who are offended by a store posting “Happy Holidays” versus “Merry Christmas” are just as overly sensitive as those who insist upon using “Happy Holidays” for political correctness. Both parties need to just lighten up and not get so bogged down with this simple phrase.

There…I’ve had my say. And for the record, I usually wish those I encounter “Merry Christmas,” but I really don’t see the problem with wishing everyone “Happy Holidays” as well. So again, Happy Holidays!

Advise for the Stupid

2006-11-17T13:46:00.000-05:00

It’s been over two weeks since I wrote my last blog. It’s not so much that nothing is going on in my life worth discussing, but that too much is going on to allow time to discuss. Plus, I’m not one to air my personal grievances to the issues public…I have friends and family with whom to vent and I don’t need the world to know the details of my problems. However, when life at work and home are as busy as it is for me right now, it’s pretty easy to get into a complaining (okay, bitchy) mood. With that in mind, I’ll use this time and take this opportunity to voice some…well…I guess one could say, advise to the stupid. These are little ditties that I see time to time that make me wonder why, just why, do some people have the right to do whatever they are doing. Here are a few such observations and words of advice…please feel free to voice your own:

If one is driving on a side road and approaching a main road WITH a traffic signal, why must this person feel obligated to force themselves into the main road’s heavy traffic with a right turn on red? On one road I take to work, which happens to be the "main road" in my example, other drivers are constantly forcing themselves into bumper-to-bumper traffic with the thought that WE should yield to THEM to allow them to turn right on red. Well…THEY have a traffic signal that allows them to turn on green WITHOUT cutting off someone. I just don’t understand this mentality…especially when the traffic on the main road is so busy.
To the person on the main road that let’s such a person turn in front of them…why? If the side road had no traffic signal, I would applaud the courteous nature of the main road driver. But when the intersection has a traffic light, then let them wait their turn!
When it’s foggy outside, or when it’s raining, turn on your lights! We know you can see us just fine…and that your headlights don’t help you see us any better. But we can’t see you. And the reason you can see us is that we are smart enough to have our lights on. Take the hint…turn on your lights!
Stop smoking. It looks stupid, makes your breath smell bad, makes your teeth yellow, and kills you. If you insist on smoking, chew on a turd…it’s just as effective and attractive. The days of smoking making you look cool are long gone. Keep up the smoking and you’ll be long gone, too. (Note, there are some people that I love who smoke…I love them, I just don’t love their smoking).
Halloween is a day for kids to have fun…to dress up in funny or scary costumes and to go door to door and ask for candy. It’s also a day that the parents of such kids can actually meet their neighbors (gasp). For 99% of us, it’s NOT a day of Satanic worship or paganism. It’s a day of fun. Period. Let people have their fun. (Okay, so this gripe is a little dated, but I had to say it)
Take your shopping carts to the shopping cart coral or back to the store. Leaving the cart in the parking lot just gets in other’s way. If the only parking spot left on the lot was blocked by a cart, would you not complain? Then do your part and return your cart when done.
People who speed over 10 MPH over the speed limit are dangerous. People who drive 5 MPH UNDER the speed limit (especially on the highway) are MORE dangerous. Keep pace…but reasonably so.
Let the small kids in the front when watching a parade. It’s for their pleasure and you can see over them.
Don’t drink and drive. Okay, I didn’t make up that phrase…and I’ve been guilty of having just one beer and then hitting the road. But if you have kids in the car, or waiting at home for you, is it worth it?
Whether or not you wear a team jersey while watching the big game on television WILL make a difference to the outcome of that game. Hey, I didn’t say that all my views were unbiased or made complete sense.

That’s all I can think of for now. As I said, feel free to add your own or comment on mine. And let’s hope I’m in a better mood for my next postings.

Happy Alloween

2006-10-31T12:04:00.000-05:00

Happy Halloween! I felt compelled to write something about the holiday because, as many of you know, it’s also my birthday. This will be my 44th birthday, and I guess my 45th Halloween. Yikes! Anyhow, as I started to compose words in my head, I started to think back to Halloweens (and birthdays) passed. There were plenty of good ones…I actually recall my 5th birthday fairly vividly; my memories of my 11th are pretty fond; some celebrations during my young adulthood were pretty wild; and watching my own kids discover the holiday continues to be more special each year. However, there was one birthday and Halloween (I like to call the combination, Alloween), that stands above the rest, and I’m sure those involved never even realized it.

In 1977, I was turning 15 years old. It was an exciting year ahead for me in that this was the year that I was entering high school. I’d be tackling all the wonders and confusion associated with this time of my life and perhaps earning my learner’s permit to drive a car. Yes indeed, life was exciting. And I’m pretty sure my folks knew it was a time of transition and discovery, because for my 15th birthday, they let me spend the weekend with my brother at West Virginia University, most likely so I could get a taste of college life.

I recall traveling to Morgantown with my brother’s future brother-in-law Bobby. He was a couple years younger than me (I think) but was a pretty unruly character. I really can’t recall with whom I traveled. I’d like to think it was my brother, but I really can’t remember. I seem to recall being driven by someone else and dropped off. All I remember is that I wasn’t real impressed with Bobby, but I was able to get along well enough for the trip. I also remember that he had a really neat handheld electronic football game that I thought was the neatest thing ever. I eventually got one for Christmas that year, and I think I might still have it around somewhere. I know that I saw one at Toys R Us last Christmas, and it was labeled as a "Classic Toy". Hmph. But I digress.

My brother’s apartment was in the heart of an area called Sunnyside. Nowadays, this area is fixed up pretty nicely with only a few run-down old houses serving as apartments for the college upperclassmen. However, back in the 70’s, the entire area was a dump. In years prior, Jeff lived in an apartment on the lower level of a house…meaning one had to enter from the back yard, duck under a hole in the foundation, and enter through a door into a 6 ½ foot tall series of pieced together rooms. If rats didn’t live there, it was because they probably feared the cockroaches. A sign outside the foundation entrance deemed it "The Cave." Luckily, in 1977, my brother had moved to the first floor of the same house, meaning he was able to enter through a traditional front door and not be too concerned with other creatures living beneath (probably sophomores). Being a 15 year-old kid, I would probably have found the Cave to be an adventure, but looking back, I’m glad I spent the nights on the first floor.

This was the trip which I first met my future sister-in-law Debbie. My first impression was one of cautiousness because she was someone new in my brother’s life. But eventually, her personality and demeanor won me over. Debbie continues to be a great gal today. It was hard to believe at the time that Bobby was her brother. Jeff and I spent some time up at her dorm room on that Friday, although I’m not really sure what all was going on that day. I was just in awe of being in Morgantown by myself…well, at least without parental supervision. There are two things I recall about spending time in Debbie’s dorm room. First, I was also in awe of one of Debbie’s friends named Sonya…a gal that I eventually escorted down the aisle during Jeff and Debbie’s wedding. I think my fascination had to do with her being about the same height as me, as well as being dressed in a rather provocative cat costume for the holiday. Secondly, I remember Debbie mentioning that a couple of girls living down the hall were lesbians. Such things were never discussed in our house. My brother and I were the only kids with no sister…so we learned most things from friends or literature. Although I had read about lesbians in my dad’s Playboy magazines, I still wasn’t sure what it was all about. I just remember thinking, "Cool…there’s lesbians down the hall" without really knowing what I was thinking. Of course, I’d probably say the same thing today.

I don’t remember much about that Friday evening except maybe eating out at one of the local sub shops and such. I slept in my brother’s tiny bedroom. In fact, I believe it was a converted walk-in closet of sorts, because it was really, really small. What I do remember was a stack of Playboys under the bed, so I was pretty much in heaven for a 15 year-old kid. But, despite the thrill of arousing literature, it was the next day and evening that I remember most.

My brother was a manager, a.k.a., go-fer, for the WVU football team. On that Saturday, West Virginia had a home game against Villanova that I believe WVU lost. What I remember most about that game is that I sat on the field. It was so exciting to be sitting there so close to the players and band. I’d seen many WVU football games from the stands before, but this was by far the closest I’d ever been to the action. I couldn’t see what my brother was doing, but I knew he was among the football team and doing a job that was pretty important. That was probably the first time I remember being proud of Jeff. Not that I didn’t admire him earlier in life, but this time, he was doing something really cool.

That evening, Jeff and Debbie decided to whisk us away from the Halloween shenanigans of Sunnyside’s row of bars and drunks and we headed to the movies. The movie we saw was "Carrie", which at the time was a new release. It’s now considered a horror classic. Hmph…I’m starting to see a trend and indication of my advancing age here. Anyhow, I’m sure "Carrie" was not a movie my folks would have wanted me to see. If you recall, the opening scene shows a girl’s locker room…lot’s of naked high school girls. As Carrie is showering, she starts her first period, which I guess was a lot later in age than most of her classmates had started. She was terrified and of course met the wrath and teasing of her friends and teachers. As for me, I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. Again, no sisters and no information from the folks…and frankly, my friends just didn’t talk about girls’ periods. I finally figured it out and Debbie actually explained it a little to me. I was embarrassed, yet somewhat glad that Debbie said something and didn’t tease me. I think this was the moment when she won me over. On the other hand, the movie scared the crap out of all of us, including Debbie. I was thinking she had to be pretty wimpy to be so scared…but when I saw Jeff offer his protective arm and calm her down, I knew the two would be married down the road. This made me happy as well.

We returned to the apartment among the sounds of loud music and howling college students. I believe Bobby disappeared somewhere into the crowd and Jeff or Debbie had to search for him. Other than that, I don’t remember much else about the evening. The next morning, however, Jeff and I awoke fairly early so that we could head back home. Mid-way through the morning, we both realized we could have slept another hour in that the clocks were moved back to convert from daylight savings back to standard time. Prior to then, I never really knew when the clocks changed or which way they change. But since that day, I always think of my trip to Morgantown when I change the clocks.

One additional comment. I have been blessed with a pretty good childhood and, thus far, a pretty good adulthood. I always got some pretty decent presents for my birthday…and usually got extra candy from neighbors for Trick or Treat because it was my birthday. But I’m not sure I can recall any birthday present I received beyond a year ago. Well, all except one. Jeff gave me an autographed football for my 15th birthday. It contained the autograph of every member of the 1977 WVU Football team. That team finished 5-6 and didn’t have any accolades as a team, although there were a few individual names that stood out. And perhaps, at the moment I received the gift, I treasured a name or two written on the ball. But now, I can honestly say the most precious on there is my brother’s. Thanks Jeff…for the only birthday present I’ve ever kept for nearly 30 years now. And thanks for a great weekend!

Happy Alloween every body!

My Dad the Author

2006-10-25T12:18:00.000-04:00

My dad wrote a book. It’s difficult to say those words in the appropriate way. Obviously, I’m very excited and want to share my pride with the world – "Hey everyone, my dad wrote a book!" At the same time, I think back over my life and not once did I ever think he’d be wearing a name tag stating "Keith Estep…Author" while signing his name to his own work at a book fair. With that thought, my expression is more like, "MY dad wrote a book?"

Dad was always very creative. I recall him always drawing something. Many times, it was work-related. He was a draftsman for Monsanto Chemical Company for most of his working life…and he often worked on his drawings at his large wooden drafting table in the basement. But he could also be found in the same place working on a more artistic ink drawing and an occasional charcoal drawing or acrylic painting. I know I’m biased, but when it came to ink drawings of old buildings and covered bridges (a phase that lasted through the 1970’s), he was incredible. He even sold his prints at a couple of local arts and crafts fairs…along with an assortment of other crafts and macramé created by my brother and his high school buddy…in a booth called "Jedz Place". (JEDZ stood for Jeff Estep and David Z. (I can’t remember his last name)…my brother and his best friend). Dad, of course, made the sign…with a supplement sign stating "featuring Covered Bridges of West Virginia, by Keith Estep." In addition, his kitchen (and mine) still features some ink drawings of fruit, vegetables and sunflowers. It wouldn’t have surprised me if some day, Dad MIGHT have a book…but a coffee table book of his drawings. So with this in mind, my thought becomes, "My dad WROTE a book?"

I won’t go into the character of my dad. For that…well…read the book. You’ll discover what makes him tick. You’ll discover events of his life that made him the man he is today, and events that even I never knew until he put them on paper. To understand my dad and to understand myself a little, I’m glad that my dad wrote a book.

His book is titled "Growing Up in Nitro." Nitro is a small town in West Virginia that was literally born overnight during World War 1 around an emerging ammunitions plant. He grew up there after the WW1 boom had gone bust and the town was trying to find its way. To quote the blurb, it’s a book about "basketball, bad guys, and carnivals; circuses, dating, and town characters; games, friends, and sibling rivalries; good guys, grade school, and gym class; high school, hunting, and junior high; medicine shows, mischief and puberty; religion, romance, and school nurses; football, teachers, and tent meetings; the Depression, the War, and fishing." Another promotional blurb states, "if you grew up in the 40’s and 50’s, this story will bring back memories. If you are younger, this story tells how Mom and Dad grew up. You might be surprised!" You know what? I was very surprised…and entertained…and touched…and proud. I’m tempted to make and wear a tee-shirt that states, "My dad wrote a book."

Dad began writing his book not long after my mom passed away in January 2005. He told me once that he was writing a journal of sorts in an effort to keep memories of Mom alive. He loved her like no one could ever imagine loving someone else. You’ll discover that when you read the book. I was fortunate to witness it my entire life. Anyhow, he began to put his heart into the writings and he solicited the help of my brother and his wife to type up his words. After about a year, he had a compilation of stories that were separated by topics; junior high school, fishing, religion, high school, dating, and a wide assortment of additional topics. He included some drawings to depict each chapter, and included some old photos of his parents, brothers, sister and Mom. He also had a list of every person mentioned in the book and what page. I found the latter item to be pretty cool, because I was able to see names in one list that I had heard of over the years…and then instantly refer to such a story. He made multiple copies and sent them to all his existing family and some additional friends. The response was more than he expected…everyone wanted another copy to share with others. Word had spread that my dad wrote a book.

Sometime in late 2005 or early 2006, Dad took a writing course ("just for something to do" as he told me at the time) given by Geoff Fuller, an accomplished local author. Based on what he learned, Dad realized he could write a better story. So, he did. Mr. Fuller, for some reason, took Dad under his wing and helped him greatly. He provided contacts for editing and typing and pretty much guided Dad through the entire publishing process. Eventually, my dad commissioned Geoff for the final steps, knowing that Mr. Fuller could provide a faster path through his experience than Dad ever could as a new comer. It wasn’t much longer that a cover was designed and all the details were in place for the final printing. On October 16, 2006, dad received over 500 copies of his book. My dad had finally written a real book.

My brother and I surprised my dad at the West Virginia Book Festival last week on Oct 21. Jeff lives in northern Ohio and I live in North Carolina, so our arrival was certainly a surprise and well received. We both had separately planned to make the trip, which is a testimony to the pride we both have for Dad and the need to share this moment with him. It was fun to watch him speak with a couple of patrons as he signed a copy of his book. He only sold six books on that Saturday…but he already had received orders for 90 prior to the show. Considering his book actually printed only four days before the show, I’d say he’s had really good early success. He shared the booth at the fair with Geoff and his wife, Karin Fuller, a columnist for the Charleston Gazette (and I recommend checking out her blog at http://www.thegazz.com/guide/blogs/karinfuller ). Karin’s daughter was also selling her own book at the fair, and she’s only 9 years old. (See Karin’s blog for more info). It was a sight to see two authors signing their first book in the same booth…one being 9 years old and one being 72. That little girl wrote a heck of a book, but my dad also wrote a book.

After that first day of the fair, Dad took my brother and me out to dinner. It was the first time that just the three of us had been together without our extended families since Mom passed away. While we ate our home-style dinners, we commented that Dad still had his nametag on his shirt. He took it off in an embarrassing way as most people would do and we had a good chuckle over it. Most of the discussion was about the whole surreal experience of Dad being an author, and some of his experiences leading up to that day. At that time, some passing acquaintance of Dad’s passed by and said hello. They walked on and we joked that "gee, didn’t they realize he wrote a book?" Suddenly, that person turned around and said, "Oh…by the way, I heard you wrote a book." Jeff and I had to stifle our laughter but Dad just smiled, stood up, and talked all about it. Yep, my dad sure did write a book.

I left West Virginia early on Sunday so that I could get back to my own family. I had a six-hour drive ahead of me, Dad had another half day at the fair ahead of him and Jeff was going to head back to Ohio. While passing through my hometown, I stopped by my mom’s gravesite. I was a bit more emotional than I thought I would be as I laid some yellow carnations on the ground, but then again it’s only been less than two years since her passing. I told her how much her grandkids were growing, told her how much we all missed her, and then turned around to leave. But before I walked away, I faced her once more. "Mom, you would be so proud of Dad, I know I am. My dad wrote a book."

Not just Breast Cancer Awareness...but ALL Cancer Awareness - Original post 10/11/06

2006-10-24T17:27:00.000-04:00

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Everywhere you look, you'll see pink ribbons. Even M&M's are pink and white this month. It's a noble cause. But I have to say that it's almost a tad unfair. (Oh geesh, stop throwing things at me...let me finish). We should ALL be aware of breast cancer...it's a tragic disease. But my friends...there are other cancers out there besides the pink-ribboned variety...and we need to be just as aware of those.

In January of 2005, I lost my mother to Lung Cancer. It was just as tragic to her family and friends as breast cancer could have been. Unfortunately, lung cancer has a bad stigma...in that so many believe that it's a self-inflicted disease due to smoking. To some extent, it's true. My mom smoked alot. My dad smoked (and still sneaks a puff). My brother and his wife had been long-time smokers until she became very very ill. I have no idea why I didn't become a smoker...but if second-hand smoke has a negative affect...I'm a victim of it, too. But I digress. Due to the high number of smokers among the elite crownd of lung cancer victims, many people point a finger of "see, I told you so" rather than don their ribbons (In case you wondered...pearl is the appropriate ribbon color). It's a shame really...because the disease is just as tragic...and probably more often fatal. My mom lived a year after diagnosis...and it wasn't a pretty year.

My brother was diagnosed with skin cancer "melanoma" the year before my mom got sick. This is yet another "told you so" cancer that gets little sympathy. "You shoulda used sun block" is often the battle cry instead of donning the, in this case I believe, black ribbons. Well, the last time I saw my pastey white brother have a tan was back in the late 70's when a bottle of baby-oil laced with iodine was the "sun oil" of choice. Sun block was for wimps...it's the way society was. Luckily, much like smoking, people are beginning to understand the adverse affects leading to cancer. But also like lung cancer, skin cancer just isn't treated as reverently as breast cancer. By the way, his cancer was successfully removed. But an interesting thing about this form of cancer is that it's passed on...not by generation, but via siblings (true fact). I used to be a lifeguard that prided myself on my baby oil tans. I'm going to see the dermatologist in two weeks for my 6-month examine. I'm a high risk patient...and I'm not taking it lightly.

Last year at this time, I was going through a cancer scare myself. Prostate cancer (light blue ribbon for those of you keeping score). During a routine digital exam (yep...bend over and smile), the doc felt a rather large lump. A week later, the urologist felt the same thing...and he ordered a biopsy. A graphic description alert here...but a prostate biopsy can be best described as having a series of fishhooks attacked to a broomstick and shoved up your ass until there's a snag...and then pull hard. Yep...I was drugged some, but had to remain awake...and the pain was very real. I'm sure my finger prints are still imbedded onto the edge of that exam table. Unfortunately, the first biopsy only resulted in more questions and "questionable" tissue. As a result, a second one was ordered 3 months later for twice the number of samples. For those of you that don't know...the prostate is in the area where urine passes nearby...as does ejaculate. After having my prostate turned to swiss cheese, you can imagine the various ways blood showed itself over the next few weeks. And no, I'm not telling you this to gross you out or shock you...well..not too much...but to let you understand that even the threat of cancer causes pain. Not only for the victim, but for the family. I'm happy to say that I was found to be cancer free. I'm also here to say that the urologist said the "questionable tissue" found indicates I can probably expect a positive occurrence of cancer by the time I'm 50. That's only 6 years away.

My point is, cancer touches nearly everyone...and whether it's a relatively easily cured skin cancer, or a fatal nastiness like lung cancer...or just the suggestion that cancer MIGHT be within you...no one wants to hear the "C" word. So we have to be aware. Support smoking cessation instead of pointing the finger and saying "I told you so." Apply SPF 40 on your skin and be proud of those pastey white, yet healthy thighs. And eat right...exercise...and all those things we're supposed to do. (By the way...no one knows what causes prostate cancer...no one. And 80% of all men will get it...and nearly 100% will get it if they live to age 80. However, most die of something else before they do from PC).

Be aware of breast cancer...but be aware of all cancers. And feel free to wear a ribbon. Any color will do...

Orange Skies and the "Stinky Cloud" - Original post 10/6/06

2006-10-24T17:23:00.000-04:00

First of all..thanks to all my friends and family and others that have contacted me to make sure my family and I are all right. We are....

About 10:00PM last night (10/5), a chemical storage facility in Apex caught fire and exploded. There were explosions on and off through the night. I live about 5 miles from the site...and heard the boomers. Yikes!

Eventually, about 17,000 people were evacuated because of the cloud of contaminated smoke. No one knew (and still doesn't know) what chemicals were stored in the facility...all they knew was "at least chlorine." I worked as a pool manager WAY back when and we dealt with chlorine gas...and had to wear gas masks as a percaution. One of my colleagues had to be hospitalized because he didn't follow the proper instructions...so I know what chlorine gas can do. So this "cloud" was serious shit.

My good friend Rod called around 12:30 to offer us to stay at his house. I hadn't talked to Rod in MONTHS...and it was very generous of him to think of me and my family. I owe Rod and his family dinner...just for the offer. At 2:00, one of my more alarmist neighbors rang our doorbell to make sure we knew of the situation. I had JUST started to dose off to sleep...but I wasn't angered by his warning...it was nice to have a neighbor be concerned about others. He and his family "fled north". I counted two other families that evacuated later on...one being my newer next door neighbors from India. I wonder if they remember the Bopal disaster way back when? (Side note...if you remember, Union Carbide in Bopal, India had a massive chemical leak. The only other place in the world where that chemical was processed was my home town growing up....so chemical "scares" are nothing new to me.) My other next door neighbor and I discussed our individual strategy in his driveway at 2:30AM...in our pajamas...lol. Quite a sight I'm sure.

My family decided to stay put (and so did my neighbor). And no, I don't think it was foolish to do so. Much like a predicted path of a hurricane, the evac zone was a very generous and wide area "just to be safe." My house was 1/2 mile from the evacuation area....but I felt that even on the border of the area, we'd be safe. Turns out to have been a good decision since the "shelter" (which was only a 1/2 mile futher from the evac zone) was severely lacking in cots on which to have my kids sleep. And I probably put too much trust in the local officials to notify us if we had to be evacuated...but that was my choice. Still...I only got about 2 hours sleep...to the sounds of emergency vehicle sirens and an occasional exploding barrel of toxic goo.

This morning, we monitored the activty on television. My daughter is a virtual bloodhound, so we asked her to smell for the "stinky cloud." She only smelled something stinky near the bathroom...lol. Anyhow, there was no further need to worry. And at 8:30, the rain came...most likely dissipating the "cloud" from the sky. Getting to work was a pain, due to closed off roads....but not impassible. I made it by 10:00...and have been addressing questions from co-workers as well as friends and family ever since...lol. Maybe I should have stayed home. But seriously...thanks again for all the inquiries and concern.

So in closing...anyone wanna buy a house? Guaranteed colorful sunrises and a unque "essense" in the air.

Catch ya later...

Gotta feel for the children - Original Post 9/30/06

2006-10-24T17:04:00.000-04:00

I took my daughter to see an allergist the other day. She's allergic to peanuts, and we suspected she might be allergic to other allergens, so we thought it best to get examined by the best. We took her to an allergist at Duke University.

We didn't know the location of the clinic and such...but we soon realized that the "clinic" was actually the Duke Children's hospital. Now, when one walks into this facility, you see the colors of the rainbow surrounding you...you see toys and puzzles in the waiting areas...you see a place for kids. Then it hits you....you're in a hospital. A children's hospital.

We ventured to the 4th floor to check in to the allergy area. This is apparently the same desk as is used to check in cancer patients. Kids with cancer. Our wait wasn't long...the nurse was fantastic to my daughter...AND my son who tagged along. The intern entertained the kids as he examined her and asked us questions. And the doctor...the big kahoona...the main allergist there...answered our questions and attended to the kids with the most heartfelt sincereity and concern. My daughter was examined painlessly (I know..I had them "test" the back of my hand to see what the pain was like...there was none)...and they confirmed she's allergic to peanuts, but nothing else. We then ventured to the lab to have blood drawn. Again, incredible staff members. We distracted my daughter to the point she never felt the needle and said the blood drawing tickled. Amazing. My kids were laughing...they were fascinated. They were inside a hospital. There was a child being pulled on a wagon outside the lab, because she was too sick to walk.

A hospital is no place for a kid. But there are kids that need hospitals. And this hospital...as hospitals go...was incredible. Luckily, my kids don't "need" the hospital...they are well and only needed the facilities for an appointment. Other kids need the hospital. One of my good friends has a special needs child...and that makes her that much more special. (I know you're reading this).

Every fall...or maybe it's spring...a local radio station (Mix 101.5) has a radio-thon for the Duke Children's Hospital. I've given money before...just because I had it to give. I'm strapped now...and have very little to give away. But I dare you to walk into a children's hospital....no matter how colorful and how many toys you see around...and it will hit you. It will hit you hard. This is no place for kids...but for those kids that need it, this is the perfect place. You can damn well bet I'll be giving this year. For my healthy kids. For my friend's kid. For the kid in the wagon. But mostly, for the toys and colors that bring smiles and hope to those kids. And if you are hesitant to give to such a charity...just walk in the doors. Don't visit a doctor...don't even visit a sick kid. But just look around. You'll understand. You'll give.