faltjahr 2010 from yohann on Vimeo.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
The Summer of 65
A long time ago, I met a girl in my high school years who became the object of my first serious crush. Being young and unsure of myself, I let her go without revealing my "true" feelings about her. That's always been a regret. I have never forgotten her and you can imagine that I was very happy to find her somewhat accidentally 35 years later on the internet. A miracle of sorts in itself. We reconnected via email.
Her life and mine has taken many a twist and turn over that time, but I found that we still had much in common after so much time. Somewhat surprising but not really. More than I knew than, we shared a lot in common in that brief time and in our lives to follow.
This story does not end badly where someone falls in love with a 17-year-old who no longer exists and runs off leaving current life and family, I have heard of such stories. There is more than a little something about capturing your youth through your memories of days long gone.
This is a story about realistically connecting to days gone by in a life-enhancing way. She helped me through a very difficult period in my life and helped introduce me to my new life -- a very happy one.
One of my favorite all time songs that bring her to mind whenever I hear it. God bless her and her family and may He keep her in His bosom.
Chad and Jeremy
Her life and mine has taken many a twist and turn over that time, but I found that we still had much in common after so much time. Somewhat surprising but not really. More than I knew than, we shared a lot in common in that brief time and in our lives to follow.
This story does not end badly where someone falls in love with a 17-year-old who no longer exists and runs off leaving current life and family, I have heard of such stories. There is more than a little something about capturing your youth through your memories of days long gone.
This is a story about realistically connecting to days gone by in a life-enhancing way. She helped me through a very difficult period in my life and helped introduce me to my new life -- a very happy one.
One of my favorite all time songs that bring her to mind whenever I hear it. God bless her and her family and may He keep her in His bosom.
Chad and Jeremy
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Little Miracles
Miracles occur every day and all around us. They are so commonplace that I think we don’t even stop to notice them. I recently was inspired to write about a few of those that I have seen in my lifetime because I was motivated by the recent canonization of one Fr. Damien. In doing a little research of the good Father (Joseph de Veuster), I stumbled upon his story and that uncovered another little "miracle" for me. That it took 120 years for the church to recognize this man!
Damien was a Belgian missionary priest who left his homeland forever to minister to the Hawaiian Islands natives. Not bad duty at all. If you are going to save the heathens, then why not save them in a place like Hawaii? This was in 1863. He spent the next 10 years building churches with his own hands and, no doubt, saving scores of pagan babies.
On 10 May, 1873, Father Damien, at his own request, went to Molokai Island where the Government kept segregated all persons afflicted with the loathsome disease of leprosy. There were then 600 lepers. For a long time, Father Damien was the only one to bring them the help they so greatly needed. He not only administered the consolations of religion, but also rendered them such little medical service and bodily comforts as were within his power. He dressed their ulcers, helped them erect their cottages, and went so far as to dig their graves and make their coffins. After twelve years of this heroic service he discovered in himself the first symptoms of the disease. This was in 1885. He nevertheless continued his charitable ministrations, being assisted at this period by two other priests and two lay brothers. On 28 March, 1889, Father Damien became helpless and passed away shortly after, closing his fifteenth year in the service of the lepers.
Damien spent a third of his life with lepers who, prior to his arrival and shunned by society, and lived in miserable conditions. Under his leadership, basic laws were enforced, shacks became painted houses, working farms were organized and schools were erected. At his own request, and that of the lepers, Father Damien remained on Molokai. President Obama recently praised Damien who “gave voice to the voiceless” and dignity to the sick.”
The Catholic Church does nothing quickly or often logically. Damien was sainted over 120 years after his death based on the evidence of two separate events that occured over one hundred years apart and half a world distant. The miracles, in his case, were that two women suffering hideous illnesses would pray to him, a non-sainted priest. One had a horrible intestinal disease and the other was growing fist-sized tumors and had lung cancer. Both were inexplicably cured after interceding with Fr. Damien through prayer. Whether Damien had anything to do with the cures is really irrelevant. I submit that he earned his sainthood here on earth. It's a shame that it takes so long for his church to recognize it as well.
It’s a another miracle in itself that there are people among us like us. Those that give up everything for what appears to be nothing in it for them or worse. Pat Tillman comes to mind. Mother Teresa. Mohandas Ghandi. Jack Bauer. Well, maybe not Jack.
But there are so many more that we never hear of, or hear of just for a moment in time. On January 30, 1994, Aris Espinosa, a 13-year-old boy from Lanao del Norte, Philippines, did something for his friends. A grenade on the ground was about to explode near the children, Aris quickly jumped and covered the grenade with his own body. The children were saved by the courageous and unselfish act.
Damien was a Belgian missionary priest who left his homeland forever to minister to the Hawaiian Islands natives. Not bad duty at all. If you are going to save the heathens, then why not save them in a place like Hawaii? This was in 1863. He spent the next 10 years building churches with his own hands and, no doubt, saving scores of pagan babies.
On 10 May, 1873, Father Damien, at his own request, went to Molokai Island where the Government kept segregated all persons afflicted with the loathsome disease of leprosy. There were then 600 lepers. For a long time, Father Damien was the only one to bring them the help they so greatly needed. He not only administered the consolations of religion, but also rendered them such little medical service and bodily comforts as were within his power. He dressed their ulcers, helped them erect their cottages, and went so far as to dig their graves and make their coffins. After twelve years of this heroic service he discovered in himself the first symptoms of the disease. This was in 1885. He nevertheless continued his charitable ministrations, being assisted at this period by two other priests and two lay brothers. On 28 March, 1889, Father Damien became helpless and passed away shortly after, closing his fifteenth year in the service of the lepers.
Damien spent a third of his life with lepers who, prior to his arrival and shunned by society, and lived in miserable conditions. Under his leadership, basic laws were enforced, shacks became painted houses, working farms were organized and schools were erected. At his own request, and that of the lepers, Father Damien remained on Molokai. President Obama recently praised Damien who “gave voice to the voiceless” and dignity to the sick.”
The Catholic Church does nothing quickly or often logically. Damien was sainted over 120 years after his death based on the evidence of two separate events that occured over one hundred years apart and half a world distant. The miracles, in his case, were that two women suffering hideous illnesses would pray to him, a non-sainted priest. One had a horrible intestinal disease and the other was growing fist-sized tumors and had lung cancer. Both were inexplicably cured after interceding with Fr. Damien through prayer. Whether Damien had anything to do with the cures is really irrelevant. I submit that he earned his sainthood here on earth. It's a shame that it takes so long for his church to recognize it as well.
It’s a another miracle in itself that there are people among us like us. Those that give up everything for what appears to be nothing in it for them or worse. Pat Tillman comes to mind. Mother Teresa. Mohandas Ghandi. Jack Bauer. Well, maybe not Jack.
But there are so many more that we never hear of, or hear of just for a moment in time. On January 30, 1994, Aris Espinosa, a 13-year-old boy from Lanao del Norte, Philippines, did something for his friends. A grenade on the ground was about to explode near the children, Aris quickly jumped and covered the grenade with his own body. The children were saved by the courageous and unselfish act.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The American Dream and MSgt Vandy
In early 1969, this was my American Dream come true. My 1966 Mustang Convertible. I was 23 when I bought it. I think I paid $1400 for it. It wasn't new but it was brand new to me! I thought it was so cool to have a convertible. I fantasized that all the girls would would want to ride in it. That dream abruptly ended as I discovered that although all the girls admired the car, none of them really liked to ride in it when the top was down! Those were the days of the big hair just so.
When I bought the car, I was brand new Air Force Lieutenant stationed in Little Rock, Arkansas. As green as could be. Lucky for me, wise old Master Sergeant Vandy took me under his wing and went car shopping with me. Back in the day, wise veteran sergeants often took us wet-behind-the-ears under their wings. And so it was with Vandy and me. Long story shortened, Vandy saved me from the Arkansas car salesmen more than once, and I ended up with a fair deal on the Mustang I wanted. I hope he is well and resting peacefully somewhere.
So, when my 23-year-old daughter was shopping for her first car purchase, and in the spirit of Sgt Vandy, my wife and I went with her. Not really expecting any shenanigans in this day and age, we went as interested observers rather than guardian angels.
It turned out that our attendance didn’t stop the dealership from employing some pretty slimy sales maneuvers, resulting in somewhat of a scene at the end of a long evening. In a carefully constructed sales practice, they did not disclose the true cost of the car behind the monthly payments numbers they presented.
When we pressed for more detail at total price at any point, the salesman was evasive, kept going back to the "monthly payment." Even when negotiating the price down, they would simply come back with a lower monthly payment-- not a new bottom line. After a couple of hours, we all agreed on a price. But as it turned out, not the same price.
This only became obvious when we finally saw the written contract. And it was the last document shown to us, after many other documents were presented. The total was almost $4,000 more than what we thought we were paying!
In the spirit of the old Sarge, my wife and I stepped up to the plate. Before we were done that evening, we had raised quite a ruckus, attracting the attention of several members of the dealership team. The price was readjusted and they made concessions. At one point both Rita and I told them the deal was dead and we were leaving. It was then that Meredith interceded for "private family moment." She really liked the car and wanted it. She could more than afford the monthly payment. So we settled on it to close the deal.
There was one special moment during that evening. At one point, I thought the deal was solid and announced I was going to go on home while the girls finished the final paperwork. The salesman gave me a look that told me I ought to stay for the entire negotiation. I look back at that as a "Vandy" moment and the "tell" that maybe this deal wasn't done. Tired as we were, we stayed.
I sincerely thanked the salesman as we were leaving for that moment, although he played his part well in the sales process, including "mis-remembering" some of the things he told us.
Is there a point to this story? Maybe two points. Although things have changed so much in the past 40 years, the art of the sale has not. Let the buyer always be aware. Be Vandy for your young adult children when they make major life choices.
And secondly, there is a bit of the spirit of Sergeant Vandy in all of us, even in the well-practiced salesman who tipped us off to stay -- even though it almost cost him the deal.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Five Star Dining in the City!
Also baseball.
Phil and I had the great pleasure to be the dining guests of my brother-in-law John and his son Luke in NYC recently. We ate at the Legends Suite Club in the Bronx and what an experience it was! Photos won't do this place any justice.
When we first arrived, we were escorted to our comfortable outdoor overstuffed seats in this park-like setting. The seats were large and comfy. On the way to our seats we passed open unguarded open barrels of soft drinks and giants tubs of candy bars and other treats. Grab as much as you liked. We did.
We sat down to watch batting practice. It was then I noticed a young man -- obviously another type of server here -- with an electronic tablet. He was taking orders from the other "guests" around us for bit more standard ballpark fare. I say "standard" but things like sushi were on this menu. There was also pizza, popcorn, ice cream, nachos w/cheese, pretzels etc. After you placed your order (never leaving your seat) food runners brought it out to us. Amazing! I imagined I wanted a pretzel. Two minutes later a pretzel was delivered to me by a panting food runner.
But after a bit, we realized that if this went on much longer, we'd never be able go to the sit down dinner awaiting us inside out of the heat of the day. Yes, there was a special dining room back inside the stadium. And we walked back past the tubs of free food to eat more food inside a grand dining room.
Although it was buffet style, each table still had its own server awaiting our instructions to fetch us whatever liquid refreshment we desired. With the exception of alcohol, all drinks were complimentary. And the buffet tables were incredible, much better than anything I have ever seen on Mothers Day anywhere. There was a Mediterranean food table, a Tex-Mex table, a Steak/Prime Rob/Rib setup. A Polish table. A fish table. A exotic salad table. A dessert table. There were chefs carving the meat, sushi chefs preparing their fare. Servers and table cleaners and moe chefs were everywhere Wow. There were even hot dogs and kraut (which my young nephew chose). Phil, my stepson, went for the duck (yes, duck), ribs, lamb and prime rib all on the same plate.
This is what that looked like.
And this was just his first plate of several for Phil. I tried to be more reasonable in my approach so I chose an anchovy salad, a shrimp enchilada and some sushi. I wanted to save room for more of the treats outside. Although there was dessert inside as well. This was truly a bacchanalian feast unto itself. One would have not been surprised to the the Ghost of Christmas Present carving the beef. There was just excess to the nth degree. We finished our dinner. And if we wanted to come back in an hour and be re-seated to have a second or third dinner, I'm sure we could have.
Back to our seats. The order takers and runners were still circumspect in their duties and eager to feed us and remained so that entire game. Under our chairs piled up nacho boxes, pizza boxes, sushi plates, sausage and pepper remains and various type of ice cream wrappers and half empty containers of drinks or all types. We were truly treated like royalty and we acted like we hadn't eaten in a year!
Yes, there was a game in between all the food but it almost seemed secondary to the experience. I think the Yankees lost.
Phil and I had the great pleasure to be the dining guests of my brother-in-law John and his son Luke in NYC recently. We ate at the Legends Suite Club in the Bronx and what an experience it was! Photos won't do this place any justice. When we first arrived, we were escorted to our comfortable outdoor overstuffed seats in this park-like setting. The seats were large and comfy. On the way to our seats we passed open unguarded open barrels of soft drinks and giants tubs of candy bars and other treats. Grab as much as you liked. We did.
We sat down to watch batting practice. It was then I noticed a young man -- obviously another type of server here -- with an electronic tablet. He was taking orders from the other "guests" around us for bit more standard ballpark fare. I say "standard" but things like sushi were on this menu. There was also pizza, popcorn, ice cream, nachos w/cheese, pretzels etc. After you placed your order (never leaving your seat) food runners brought it out to us. Amazing! I imagined I wanted a pretzel. Two minutes later a pretzel was delivered to me by a panting food runner.
But after a bit, we realized that if this went on much longer, we'd never be able go to the sit down dinner awaiting us inside out of the heat of the day. Yes, there was a special dining room back inside the stadium. And we walked back past the tubs of free food to eat more food inside a grand dining room.
Although it was buffet style, each table still had its own server awaiting our instructions to fetch us whatever liquid refreshment we desired. With the exception of alcohol, all drinks were complimentary. And the buffet tables were incredible, much better than anything I have ever seen on Mothers Day anywhere. There was a Mediterranean food table, a Tex-Mex table, a Steak/Prime Rob/Rib setup. A Polish table. A fish table. A exotic salad table. A dessert table. There were chefs carving the meat, sushi chefs preparing their fare. Servers and table cleaners and moe chefs were everywhere Wow. There were even hot dogs and kraut (which my young nephew chose). Phil, my stepson, went for the duck (yes, duck), ribs, lamb and prime rib all on the same plate.
This is what that looked like.
And this was just his first plate of several for Phil. I tried to be more reasonable in my approach so I chose an anchovy salad, a shrimp enchilada and some sushi. I wanted to save room for more of the treats outside. Although there was dessert inside as well. This was truly a bacchanalian feast unto itself. One would have not been surprised to the the Ghost of Christmas Present carving the beef. There was just excess to the nth degree. We finished our dinner. And if we wanted to come back in an hour and be re-seated to have a second or third dinner, I'm sure we could have.
Back to our seats. The order takers and runners were still circumspect in their duties and eager to feed us and remained so that entire game. Under our chairs piled up nacho boxes, pizza boxes, sushi plates, sausage and pepper remains and various type of ice cream wrappers and half empty containers of drinks or all types. We were truly treated like royalty and we acted like we hadn't eaten in a year!
Yes, there was a game in between all the food but it almost seemed secondary to the experience. I think the Yankees lost.
Friday, August 7, 2009
And so it goes...
It happens all the time. All over the world. People shuffle off this mortal coil. I walked by a television this morning at work and noticed the bright, age-free-but-not-old, newswoman clone that hosts so many of the daytime news programs. She sported a bright, beautiful smile for us average folks out here. However, the news crawl below her read "Over 600 people have died in India in floods..."
Something is wrong here. Have we become so jaded and impervious to death in large numbers that reports like that have no impact on us? Can we no longer intellectually process the impact these mass tragedies have? It's no wonder that there are people who don't believe the Holocaust occured. Who can imagine 10 million people murdered?
A tragedy occurred in our town this past week. A 19 year old girl was killed in a car accident in a kind of freakish way. She was sitting in the back seat behind the driver. He lost control of the car on a wet, country road and it skidded sideways into a utility pole. The other three people in the car exited under their own power. The girl, whose fate was decided by the seat she chose in the car earlier that night, was mortally injured.
This kind of event attracts everyone's attention, especially parents with teenagers. And even more especially when the girl is a friend of your daughter's.
Words can't express the feelings I went through all at once. Not that any of these events ever make any sense, this one seems to make even less sense and more random than usual.. She was sitting in the backseat. There were four passengers. Three exited the car under their own power. She was hopelessly injured and she only survived for a short time. It was 3 a.m. on a dark back road when the car spun out of control, the rear door striking a utility pole. The driver is only 20 years old and it's not clear whether he had been drinking or not, although the police did charge him. And it's only safe to say that he lost control of the car. If tox screens show he had any alcohol in his system at all, because he was underage, he will serve time in jail. This makes this tragedy even more tragic -- if that's the case.
Of course the collateral damage from the accident is immeasurable. The parents of the victim and the driver now find their lives changed in previously unimaginable ways.
As for myself, I am just tired trying to figure out why these things happen, and what parents can do to help prevent them. Having raised four people through a teenage years, we have survived relatively unscathed. But we were just lucky. The facts are that children must grow into adults and there are times when they do things that are unsafe, unwise and sometimes downright stupid. Some of the same things we did growing up. I think, and there are plenty of modern parents who disagree with me, that parents should never condone underage "safe" drinking. In my little mind, our late teens are already in jeopardy enough by allowing them to drive at 16 and 17. Can't we wait until 21 to add drinking -- another risk factor -- into the mix?
Back to my original point of our anesthetic view of the death in large numbers -- I think that we may be just employing a self defense mechanism to shield the true nature of such a large number of lives lost in tragedy. The horror of those events can only be truly appreciated by examining each life lost one at a time. It's only then we can even begin to imagine the weight of the loss.
And so it goes...peace, out.
.
Something is wrong here. Have we become so jaded and impervious to death in large numbers that reports like that have no impact on us? Can we no longer intellectually process the impact these mass tragedies have? It's no wonder that there are people who don't believe the Holocaust occured. Who can imagine 10 million people murdered?
A tragedy occurred in our town this past week. A 19 year old girl was killed in a car accident in a kind of freakish way. She was sitting in the back seat behind the driver. He lost control of the car on a wet, country road and it skidded sideways into a utility pole. The other three people in the car exited under their own power. The girl, whose fate was decided by the seat she chose in the car earlier that night, was mortally injured.
This kind of event attracts everyone's attention, especially parents with teenagers. And even more especially when the girl is a friend of your daughter's.
Words can't express the feelings I went through all at once. Not that any of these events ever make any sense, this one seems to make even less sense and more random than usual.. She was sitting in the backseat. There were four passengers. Three exited the car under their own power. She was hopelessly injured and she only survived for a short time. It was 3 a.m. on a dark back road when the car spun out of control, the rear door striking a utility pole. The driver is only 20 years old and it's not clear whether he had been drinking or not, although the police did charge him. And it's only safe to say that he lost control of the car. If tox screens show he had any alcohol in his system at all, because he was underage, he will serve time in jail. This makes this tragedy even more tragic -- if that's the case.
Of course the collateral damage from the accident is immeasurable. The parents of the victim and the driver now find their lives changed in previously unimaginable ways.
As for myself, I am just tired trying to figure out why these things happen, and what parents can do to help prevent them. Having raised four people through a teenage years, we have survived relatively unscathed. But we were just lucky. The facts are that children must grow into adults and there are times when they do things that are unsafe, unwise and sometimes downright stupid. Some of the same things we did growing up. I think, and there are plenty of modern parents who disagree with me, that parents should never condone underage "safe" drinking. In my little mind, our late teens are already in jeopardy enough by allowing them to drive at 16 and 17. Can't we wait until 21 to add drinking -- another risk factor -- into the mix?
Back to my original point of our anesthetic view of the death in large numbers -- I think that we may be just employing a self defense mechanism to shield the true nature of such a large number of lives lost in tragedy. The horror of those events can only be truly appreciated by examining each life lost one at a time. It's only then we can even begin to imagine the weight of the loss.
And so it goes...peace, out.
.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Will It Float?
I wanted to do a column on "Will It Float?" subject. But first some explanation. I am not stealing Letterman's lame idea of dropping random items in a giant bowl of water! My idea is more sophisticated.
Some of you hipsters might know there is a running internet You Tube series called "Will It Blend?" For the rest of you that knows not, the joke is that a nerdy middle aged guy named Tom Dickson tries to "blend" all sorts of items in a high-powered blender. He does this on video, of course.
Some of the items that he attempts to blend include pork and beans (in the can, of course), marbles, Bic lighters, glow sticks, a WII controller, and most famously, a working iPhone. His investigations to find definitive scientific answers about what blends defies reason, of course. Tom may have gotten the idea from Dan Akroyd's "Bass-o-matic" advertisement from the 1st season of SNL. Guess what he blends in that commercial?
Just to bring everyone onto the same playing field, I've included one of Tom Dickson's videos.
Now, my take on this is to create a "Will It Float?" series. Why you ask? Because I can't believe some of the flotsam and jetsam that washes up on our beach. The funny thing is some of this stuff really doesn't look like it can float. Like giant truck tires, huge metal bars, very large pieces of everything you can imagine.
But here's the really funny thing. Invariably, the next day that everything that was there yesterday is gone! Disappeared! But the stuff has been replaced with a new assortment! It's almost like God has a truck tire day one day, and a Busch beer keg day the next, and then a giant unrecognizable wood day! The beach is always different.
I took my camera to the beach this afternoon and hoped the giant tire that was there yesterday would still be there. I wanted to photo it with the clever caption "Will It Float?" under it. It doesn't look like it should. And then maybe shoot photos everyday of things that appear to be unlikely floaters on the beach.
Alas, no tire today. In fact, the beach was pretty dang clean. God must have declared a "clean the beach" day. Kills my "will it float joke" and series.
Instead there was this. A fisherman with a very large Bluefish. Come to think of it, this fish is definitely a floater now.
Some of you hipsters might know there is a running internet You Tube series called "Will It Blend?" For the rest of you that knows not, the joke is that a nerdy middle aged guy named Tom Dickson tries to "blend" all sorts of items in a high-powered blender. He does this on video, of course.
Some of the items that he attempts to blend include pork and beans (in the can, of course), marbles, Bic lighters, glow sticks, a WII controller, and most famously, a working iPhone. His investigations to find definitive scientific answers about what blends defies reason, of course. Tom may have gotten the idea from Dan Akroyd's "Bass-o-matic" advertisement from the 1st season of SNL. Guess what he blends in that commercial?
Just to bring everyone onto the same playing field, I've included one of Tom Dickson's videos.
Now, my take on this is to create a "Will It Float?" series. Why you ask? Because I can't believe some of the flotsam and jetsam that washes up on our beach. The funny thing is some of this stuff really doesn't look like it can float. Like giant truck tires, huge metal bars, very large pieces of everything you can imagine.
But here's the really funny thing. Invariably, the next day that everything that was there yesterday is gone! Disappeared! But the stuff has been replaced with a new assortment! It's almost like God has a truck tire day one day, and a Busch beer keg day the next, and then a giant unrecognizable wood day! The beach is always different.
I took my camera to the beach this afternoon and hoped the giant tire that was there yesterday would still be there. I wanted to photo it with the clever caption "Will It Float?" under it. It doesn't look like it should. And then maybe shoot photos everyday of things that appear to be unlikely floaters on the beach.
Alas, no tire today. In fact, the beach was pretty dang clean. God must have declared a "clean the beach" day. Kills my "will it float joke" and series.
Instead there was this. A fisherman with a very large Bluefish. Come to think of it, this fish is definitely a floater now.
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