A while back, a co-worker came into my office and indignantly pulled my dormant cell phone charger from the wall. What followed was a sort of dressing down by the co-worker who lectured me on the evils of leaving an un-used cell phone charger plugged into an electrical socket.
Really descriptive phrases like, "energy vampire" were tossed about. I defended myself to no avail. I even protested that I love our planet (I do love it, you know...after all...my kids live here). But really...how much waste could a dormant cell-phone charger cause? It's not like I see the lights flicker or dim when I plug the thing in!
Luckily, we have all sorts of tools and gadgets in our office to measure such things so I wandered out into the shop, procurred one and proceeded to test just how much energy I was wasting by leaving my cell phone charger plugged in when it wasn't charging anything.
6 watts. That's what it was wasting. 6 watts over a 24 hour period.
Now, to the uninitiated, 6 watts might seem like a lot and it really is if you take into account the fact that there are 1.35 billion cell phones in use world wide. Assuming that half of them charge by wall socket and not car...and if we assume that all of them are energy vampires like myself...that means that over 4 gigawatts are being wasted every 24 hours. That's enough energy to send 3 Deloreans travelling through the space-time continuum and still have a bit more to spare (once every 7 days, we get to send 4). Now, I don't care how you slice it...that's serious energy.
But still, I enjoy leaving my cell phone charger plugged in. I don't have to hunt for it and, let's face it, at my age and weight, every instance of bending down to plug something into a receptacle is a risky venture. So I wondered if I might do something else to save the carbon emissions required to generate that 6 watts of energy every day and, I must say, my research has yeilded rich fruit indeed!
Every organism on the planet with a digestive tract emits an average daily quantity of (how shall I put this?)...."miasmic eruptions" As it happens, our federal government in an endeavor that I had heretofore thought insane, has funded research into the quantity and nature of these bowel burps.
It has been established that, on an average day, an average human will emit about fourteen of these totaling about half a liter volume.
The exact chemical nature of these eruptions varies depending upon the intake of the person in question but, on average, about a fourth of these eruptions is a combustable gas called methane.
Coincidentally, methane is also a greenhouse gas.
There are 28 liters in a cubic foot and 1200 BTU/ft3 of methane. and there are 3.4 BTU/watt of energy. Assuming an efficiency rate of 80%, it takes, therefore 4.25 BTU to generate 1 watt of electricity.
Following that criteria, The average human expels enough methane to create approximately 0.6 watts of electricity...about a tenth of the energy required to power that cell phone charger for 24 hours.
Ah...but heres the wrinkle....both the quantity and, in this instance, quality of these miasmic eruptions increases substantially when humans ingest certain foods. (Broccoli, Cabbage, Beans...) In fact, ingestion of these food items can increase the volume and methane content over ten times...My wife asserts that this is a most conservative estimate.
It follows, therefore, that for every day I do not eat broccoli, I save the planet enough greenhouse emissions to create 6 watts of electricity...exactly the amount I require to leave my cell phone charger plugged into the wall guilt free. It's my own little personal "Cap and Trade"
So there it is...it's what I'm doing to save the planet...
(I am working on an invention that will allow the eating of broccoli and take those emissions and convert them to the necessary energy to power my cell phone charger but the prototype for the collection system is not quite ready for certain "Victorian prejudices" still prevalent in today's enlightened society)
I apologize for my faulty math but it seems that this is even a better deal than I had previously thought!
1/28 x 0.25 x 1200 x .80 /3.4 x 10 = 25 watts. Meaning that for every day I don't eat broccoli...three other people besides myself can leave their cell charger plugged in guilt free!. This is really exciting news. We could even market it in a sort of "friends and family" type venture!
(note to self..."Call Verizon")
Monday, July 19, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Lessons from Atticus
"The one thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's conscience"
- Atticus Finch -
It's the 50th anniversary of Harper Lee's masterpiece, "To Kill a Mockingbird". Ms. Lee never penned another work. Why bother? Her first effort was so masterful as to assure that any further attempts would pale by comparison.
I love the book and I love the movie made from the book. I can't think of a more perfect actor to play Atticus Finch than Gregory Peck. His melodious baritone evenly dispensed wisdom in such a quiet and unassuming manner as to command respect and assent.
After viewing the movie and reading the book more times than I can count, I have come to the conclusion that the greatest lesson Atticus taught us was that there was always room for manners. Emily Post stated that manners exist to make people feel at ease with each other; and Atticus Finch was a man who, even in the most extreme circumstances, NEVER forgot his manners.
From diffusing the anger and ire of Miss Dubose to making young Walter feel at ease at the dinner table. Atticus treated all with respect and kindness. Even Bob and Mayella Ewell were treated with respect; although in Bob Ewell's case, one gets the impression that Atticus remembered his manners to preserve his own dignity rather than Mr. Ewell's
I can't think of any greater scene in the history of cinema than Atticus Finch wiping Bob Ewell's spittle from his cheek, then casting the handkerchief aside and walking around his adversary to the car where his son waited and watched. Without a word, Atticus told his son what it meant to really be a man.
After Tom Robinson's conviction, when anyone would excuse Atticus for not remembering the niceties of social convention, Sheriff Tate drove up asking for a conference with Atticus who was in mid conversation with his neighbor, Miss Maudie. Upon hearing Sheriff Tate's request, he didn't just turn from his conversation but rather asked Miss Maudie to excuse him first. I wonder how many of us, under similar pressure and disappointment, would remember such a small social convention?
But Atticus' greatest lesson came after the attack on his two children. When his only son lay unconscious in bed, his prognosis undetermined, Scout discovered Boo Radley hiding behind the door. I never fail to smile through a blur of tears when I see the shy man start suddenly and cower when his hiding place is discovered, only to calm down when Atticus' reassuring voice offered the proper words of introduction that one would expect to hear at a cotillion, "Miss Jean Louise Finch? Mr. Arthur Radley"
As the father of a child who is very reminiscent of Boo Radley, I am also grateful that Atticus never failed to grant the young man with special needs the dignity of his proper name...refusing to call him Boo like the rest of the town...hence the quote at the beginning of this post.
In reading Harper Lee describe her father, and watching Gregory Peck's portrayal on the screen, I cannot help but realize that here is a man who is as close to being like Christ as any other man I can think of.
So....a belated note of gratitude to Harper Lee for her book and for showing to us that the best things are always those that inspire us to greater levels of perfection
- Atticus Finch -
It's the 50th anniversary of Harper Lee's masterpiece, "To Kill a Mockingbird". Ms. Lee never penned another work. Why bother? Her first effort was so masterful as to assure that any further attempts would pale by comparison.
I love the book and I love the movie made from the book. I can't think of a more perfect actor to play Atticus Finch than Gregory Peck. His melodious baritone evenly dispensed wisdom in such a quiet and unassuming manner as to command respect and assent.
After viewing the movie and reading the book more times than I can count, I have come to the conclusion that the greatest lesson Atticus taught us was that there was always room for manners. Emily Post stated that manners exist to make people feel at ease with each other; and Atticus Finch was a man who, even in the most extreme circumstances, NEVER forgot his manners.
From diffusing the anger and ire of Miss Dubose to making young Walter feel at ease at the dinner table. Atticus treated all with respect and kindness. Even Bob and Mayella Ewell were treated with respect; although in Bob Ewell's case, one gets the impression that Atticus remembered his manners to preserve his own dignity rather than Mr. Ewell's
I can't think of any greater scene in the history of cinema than Atticus Finch wiping Bob Ewell's spittle from his cheek, then casting the handkerchief aside and walking around his adversary to the car where his son waited and watched. Without a word, Atticus told his son what it meant to really be a man.
After Tom Robinson's conviction, when anyone would excuse Atticus for not remembering the niceties of social convention, Sheriff Tate drove up asking for a conference with Atticus who was in mid conversation with his neighbor, Miss Maudie. Upon hearing Sheriff Tate's request, he didn't just turn from his conversation but rather asked Miss Maudie to excuse him first. I wonder how many of us, under similar pressure and disappointment, would remember such a small social convention?
But Atticus' greatest lesson came after the attack on his two children. When his only son lay unconscious in bed, his prognosis undetermined, Scout discovered Boo Radley hiding behind the door. I never fail to smile through a blur of tears when I see the shy man start suddenly and cower when his hiding place is discovered, only to calm down when Atticus' reassuring voice offered the proper words of introduction that one would expect to hear at a cotillion, "Miss Jean Louise Finch? Mr. Arthur Radley"
As the father of a child who is very reminiscent of Boo Radley, I am also grateful that Atticus never failed to grant the young man with special needs the dignity of his proper name...refusing to call him Boo like the rest of the town...hence the quote at the beginning of this post.
In reading Harper Lee describe her father, and watching Gregory Peck's portrayal on the screen, I cannot help but realize that here is a man who is as close to being like Christ as any other man I can think of.
So....a belated note of gratitude to Harper Lee for her book and for showing to us that the best things are always those that inspire us to greater levels of perfection
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Are You Honest in Your Dealings With Your Fellow Man?
So many times in my church, I hear talks about the blessings of regular temple attendance. I probably don't attend as often as I ought to. Particularly considering that I pass seven temples on the way to work and I work within walking distance of the Salt Lake Temple...so I can't add any insight into the blessings that come to us with regular temple attendance. But I can tell you that being worthy to attend the temple saved my job once.
When I worked in Wisconsin, the company I worked for was owned by a man and his wife who were some of the finest people I'd ever met. The owner of the company was the kind of man who would often drive by late at night, see the light on in my office as I was working to meet a deadline, turn his car around, drive to Subway, and bring me a sandwich and drink as he sat in my office and asked me whether or not they were working me too hard and what they could do to ease my burden so that I could spend more time with my family and less time at work. He was a deeply religious man who often told me how he admired my religion's emphasis on family.
After a year working there, they decided to semi-retire and handed the daily management of the company over to a man who, by all reports, hated the very ground on which I walked. I never could understand why and none of my co-workers who told me that he had confided in them about his hatred for me could tell me why. Several theories were floated...I was a Texan and he hated George W. Bush with the white hot hatred of a thousand suns so he hated me as well....I was the only one in my company who fully understood how to do the job I was hired to do and so he disliked not having more control over the process....the most popular theory was that I was a big person and he was a cigar-chomping small man who, if psychiatrists had been in his company for fifteen minutes, would be rushing to write papers proposing to rename "Napoleon Complex" to "Skrowonski-itis"
But, whatever the reason for his dislike of me, it was something I lived with. I kept my head down, did my work, and did everything I could to not give him an excuse to fire me...then one day, he got the excuse he was looking for.
We had been hired by a construction company to design a water park. The initial job came in over budget and so all departments were asked to work with the sub-contractors to cut down costs. My department was asked to cut a quarter of a million from the cost and so I went back and forth between the two HVAC companies that were bidding on the job to get suggestions on how we might do what was needed to get the job within budget.
On my own, I discovered a possible way to cut more than a quarter of a million from the job. This job had a North Woods Lodge-type feel so it featured steep sloping roofs. I found a small obscure portion of the roof that would support equipment allowing me to go with a much less expensive system and made the changes over the weekend.
The following Monday, I went to our client with my proposed changes as well as my estimate of the potential savings. When my ideas were green-lit, I said, "Great! I'll pass this along to the two HVAC companies". It was then that I was instructed by our client to do something I considered unethical. I was told to give the information to only one of the companies and leave the other in the dark. I took my concerns to the CEO who told me to do as our client had instructed.
When the new bids came in, the company that had been informed of the new changes had a clear and distinct advantage over the one left in the dark. The owner of the company who had been left out of the loop called me in bewilderment. During the course of our conversation, he said, "I don't know where they're getting their numbers from. Are you giving them the same information that you're giving me?"
My heart came to my throat as I thought of all the possible ramifications of telling the truth...none of which were immediately good for me"
After a moment's hesitation, I said, "No, I'm not."
"Can you give me the same information that you're giving them?"
Another moment's hesitation..."No I can't"
"WHY NOT!?!?!?"
"You need to take that up with our client"
I'm not sure exactly what the conversation was between the two companies but when the smoke cleared, our client had been threatened with a lawsuit and had made some settlement agreement with the company that had been left out of the loop.
I was called into my CEO's office and, when I got there, Our CEO, and our client's CEO were in the office, both glared at me as I sat down and took my seat. I was about to be fired.
I was raked over the coals for the better part of thirty minutes being told how I had caused embarrassment to our firm and our client's firm because of my inability to maintain confidentiality. I heard the door open behind me, I assumed it was the head of Human Resources coming to give me my severance papers.
It was the owner of the company who came into the room and took a seat next to me. As he sat down, the CEO of the company asked me, "What were you thinking of?"
There was a bit of a pause. I glanced over to the owner and recalled all of the discussions we had had about my religion and how he had always expressed admiration for our ideals...and then, I reached into my wallet and pulled out my temple recommend.
"Do you see this piece of paper?" I asked. "This is one of the most precious things I own. It allows me to go to a place I consider to be one of the most sacred places on earth and worship my Heavenly Father". The CEO looked a bit confused but he allowed me to continue. "Every year, I have to have this piece of paper renewed. During that process, I have to be interviewed twice; each time by a man that I recognize as being called of God to represent Him. Both of them will ask me several questions, one of which will be, 'Are you honest in your dealings with your fellow man?'. You ask me what I was thinking? I was thinking how I was going to answer that question the next time I was asked."
I stopped talking and left my temple recommend on the table. After an awkward moment of silence, the owner of the company reached out, took the recommend, handed it back to me and then turned to the men on the other side of the able and said, "Gentlemen, this meeting is over".
Eventually the owner decided to sell the company but for the time he was there, I was assured by people in the know that I was untouchable.
When I worked in Wisconsin, the company I worked for was owned by a man and his wife who were some of the finest people I'd ever met. The owner of the company was the kind of man who would often drive by late at night, see the light on in my office as I was working to meet a deadline, turn his car around, drive to Subway, and bring me a sandwich and drink as he sat in my office and asked me whether or not they were working me too hard and what they could do to ease my burden so that I could spend more time with my family and less time at work. He was a deeply religious man who often told me how he admired my religion's emphasis on family.
After a year working there, they decided to semi-retire and handed the daily management of the company over to a man who, by all reports, hated the very ground on which I walked. I never could understand why and none of my co-workers who told me that he had confided in them about his hatred for me could tell me why. Several theories were floated...I was a Texan and he hated George W. Bush with the white hot hatred of a thousand suns so he hated me as well....I was the only one in my company who fully understood how to do the job I was hired to do and so he disliked not having more control over the process....the most popular theory was that I was a big person and he was a cigar-chomping small man who, if psychiatrists had been in his company for fifteen minutes, would be rushing to write papers proposing to rename "Napoleon Complex" to "Skrowonski-itis"
But, whatever the reason for his dislike of me, it was something I lived with. I kept my head down, did my work, and did everything I could to not give him an excuse to fire me...then one day, he got the excuse he was looking for.
We had been hired by a construction company to design a water park. The initial job came in over budget and so all departments were asked to work with the sub-contractors to cut down costs. My department was asked to cut a quarter of a million from the cost and so I went back and forth between the two HVAC companies that were bidding on the job to get suggestions on how we might do what was needed to get the job within budget.
On my own, I discovered a possible way to cut more than a quarter of a million from the job. This job had a North Woods Lodge-type feel so it featured steep sloping roofs. I found a small obscure portion of the roof that would support equipment allowing me to go with a much less expensive system and made the changes over the weekend.
The following Monday, I went to our client with my proposed changes as well as my estimate of the potential savings. When my ideas were green-lit, I said, "Great! I'll pass this along to the two HVAC companies". It was then that I was instructed by our client to do something I considered unethical. I was told to give the information to only one of the companies and leave the other in the dark. I took my concerns to the CEO who told me to do as our client had instructed.
When the new bids came in, the company that had been informed of the new changes had a clear and distinct advantage over the one left in the dark. The owner of the company who had been left out of the loop called me in bewilderment. During the course of our conversation, he said, "I don't know where they're getting their numbers from. Are you giving them the same information that you're giving me?"
My heart came to my throat as I thought of all the possible ramifications of telling the truth...none of which were immediately good for me"
After a moment's hesitation, I said, "No, I'm not."
"Can you give me the same information that you're giving them?"
Another moment's hesitation..."No I can't"
"WHY NOT!?!?!?"
"You need to take that up with our client"
I'm not sure exactly what the conversation was between the two companies but when the smoke cleared, our client had been threatened with a lawsuit and had made some settlement agreement with the company that had been left out of the loop.
I was called into my CEO's office and, when I got there, Our CEO, and our client's CEO were in the office, both glared at me as I sat down and took my seat. I was about to be fired.
I was raked over the coals for the better part of thirty minutes being told how I had caused embarrassment to our firm and our client's firm because of my inability to maintain confidentiality. I heard the door open behind me, I assumed it was the head of Human Resources coming to give me my severance papers.
It was the owner of the company who came into the room and took a seat next to me. As he sat down, the CEO of the company asked me, "What were you thinking of?"
There was a bit of a pause. I glanced over to the owner and recalled all of the discussions we had had about my religion and how he had always expressed admiration for our ideals...and then, I reached into my wallet and pulled out my temple recommend.
"Do you see this piece of paper?" I asked. "This is one of the most precious things I own. It allows me to go to a place I consider to be one of the most sacred places on earth and worship my Heavenly Father". The CEO looked a bit confused but he allowed me to continue. "Every year, I have to have this piece of paper renewed. During that process, I have to be interviewed twice; each time by a man that I recognize as being called of God to represent Him. Both of them will ask me several questions, one of which will be, 'Are you honest in your dealings with your fellow man?'. You ask me what I was thinking? I was thinking how I was going to answer that question the next time I was asked."
I stopped talking and left my temple recommend on the table. After an awkward moment of silence, the owner of the company reached out, took the recommend, handed it back to me and then turned to the men on the other side of the able and said, "Gentlemen, this meeting is over".
Eventually the owner decided to sell the company but for the time he was there, I was assured by people in the know that I was untouchable.
Friday, June 11, 2010
The Portrait
29 years ago tomorrow, Kerry Huber against all better judgement, rescued me from bachelorhood. I knew Kerry exactly three weeks before I proposed to her. In a way, it was an arranged marriage. It came about in a rather unorthodox way. (but when have I ever been orthodox about anything?)
As he officially released me from my mission, my Stake President asked me if I would like a blessing. I'm not certain if it was a usual offer but he was my Stake President and his son was my best friend and, in high school I had spent more waking hours at his home than my own so I looked to him and his wife as secondary parents. In light of all that, I readily accepted.
During the blessing, he paused for what seemed an awfully long time. In retrospect, I now know exactly what was going on because it's happened to me since. During the course of a blessing, you're prompted to say something out of the ordinary and, for a while, you kind of have to chew on it. Like when Kerry lost her diamond bracelet, the very first really nice piece of jewelry I'd given her and, in retracing her steps, she realized it could be anywhere up to and including a garbage truck that had carried away tree clippings earlier that day.
She was inconsolable and asked me for a blessing during which I was prompted to promise her she would get it back (I normally don't involve Heavenly Father on the matter of lost jewelry but this was a very sentimental piece and my wife was crying)
Anyway, when I felt prompted to give my wife that blessing, I hemmed and hawed for a moment thinking over the rammifications. Here I was using my priesthood to promise returned jewelry to my wife. It didn't feel right....on a smaller scale, like Nephi wrestling with The Spirit over the demise of Laban.
So, when I was prompted to give that promise to my wife, I kind of backpedaled and said, in my heart, "You know, Heavenly Father, if that's how you feel about it, why don't you just tell her yourself and leave me out of the whole thing?"
"Tell her"
"Okay...but...this doesn't feel right, Heavenly Father. I'm using my priesthood here to promise a blessing to my wife and it seems kind of vain"
"Tell Her"
"Okay...but....you're SURE she's going to get it back? Because, if I promise this thing and she doesn't get it back....I'm gonna look awful fool.."
"Would you just tell her already?
So I promised my wife she would get her bracelet back.
"Now tell her again"
The next day, I walked out of the house, went straight to the garage, opened the door and looked in the bottom of the fertilizer spreader to see my wife's bracelet lying there. (whew)
Anyway...that kind of exchange must have been what was happening in President Bassett's mind while he was paused in my blessing because, the next words out of his mouth were, "Tom, not everyone has somebody that they are supposed to marry, but you do. I bless you that, when you see her, you will know it instantly"
Two years later, I was talking to my girlfriend, Lisa at institute when I looked across the room and saw Kerry. The next thing I thought was, "what am I going to tell Lisa?"
Kerry and I were engaged three weeks later and married four months later. Over the years, I have seen the wisdom of our Heavenly Father in placing the two of us together. When the school district we were in was refusing to give our special needs son the services he needed, I watched in awe as the lioness I married argued with no fewer than twelve school district officials and lawyers. At the end of three hours, they finally threw in the towel and gave us everything we were asking for.
While I was recuperating from my accident, when growing a beard was the only thing I could do by myself, she fed and dressed and bathed me for the better part of a year. She never complained once or made me feel like the service she rendered me was a burden.
Over the years, she has been my companion, my confidant, my willing scrabble partner and, when I've needed it, the thorn in my side and the boot to my rear.
Our courtship was brief and so we had to get to know each other better after we married. We are both dominant personalities and so we've had to work out many many compromises over the last three decades. Most of these have concerned my personal wardrobe choices. If she hates a tie that I love, the compromise we work out is that she tells me I can keep it and then one day, several months later, I will look through my closet and realize that the tie we argued over hasn't been seen in quite a while.
If I could change one thing about her, it would be her own self-deprication. Although I love to take pictures, my wife has never been a willing subject, telling me that she want's to get a better haircut or lose some weight first.
Every time she offers these excuses, I look at her and wonder what the heck she's talking about. She looks more beautiful today than the day we married and I realize that I cannot look at her without filtering everything I take in through the three decades of our life together. And so I wrote her this poem and, in honor of the anniversary of her agreeing to rescue me, I share it with our friends:
(I'm a little ham-fisted when it comes to poetry so all I can manage is iambic pentameter)
The Portrait
I have no portrait of my wife to place upon a wall
There's none within my wallet, to share with one and all
There lies a canvas in my heart that's stretched out through the years
and with a brush of memories, I paint her portrait there
I have so many memories, from each of them I choose
her colors vibrant and bold or soft and subtle hues
and every time I add a stroke, I glance again to see
the portrait in my heart has grown more beautiful to me
Across the altar of The Lord, her lovliness and grace
are captured in my memory, and form the portrait's face
The day that our first son was born, I watched her hold the child
and it is from that memory, I paint the portrait's smile
Each tender word, each warm caress, each moment that I prize
are captured in my memory and shines within her eyes
And every day of triumph, and those of pain and grief
adds character, and contrast, and beauty underneath.
There are no borders in my heart; no barriers, nor fences
to mark the place the portrait stops, and where my soul commences
The countenance shall never fade; the colors never set
upon this cherished rendering, that's not quite finished yet.
As he officially released me from my mission, my Stake President asked me if I would like a blessing. I'm not certain if it was a usual offer but he was my Stake President and his son was my best friend and, in high school I had spent more waking hours at his home than my own so I looked to him and his wife as secondary parents. In light of all that, I readily accepted.
During the blessing, he paused for what seemed an awfully long time. In retrospect, I now know exactly what was going on because it's happened to me since. During the course of a blessing, you're prompted to say something out of the ordinary and, for a while, you kind of have to chew on it. Like when Kerry lost her diamond bracelet, the very first really nice piece of jewelry I'd given her and, in retracing her steps, she realized it could be anywhere up to and including a garbage truck that had carried away tree clippings earlier that day.
She was inconsolable and asked me for a blessing during which I was prompted to promise her she would get it back (I normally don't involve Heavenly Father on the matter of lost jewelry but this was a very sentimental piece and my wife was crying)
Anyway, when I felt prompted to give my wife that blessing, I hemmed and hawed for a moment thinking over the rammifications. Here I was using my priesthood to promise returned jewelry to my wife. It didn't feel right....on a smaller scale, like Nephi wrestling with The Spirit over the demise of Laban.
So, when I was prompted to give that promise to my wife, I kind of backpedaled and said, in my heart, "You know, Heavenly Father, if that's how you feel about it, why don't you just tell her yourself and leave me out of the whole thing?"
"Tell her"
"Okay...but...this doesn't feel right, Heavenly Father. I'm using my priesthood here to promise a blessing to my wife and it seems kind of vain"
"Tell Her"
"Okay...but....you're SURE she's going to get it back? Because, if I promise this thing and she doesn't get it back....I'm gonna look awful fool.."
"Would you just tell her already?
So I promised my wife she would get her bracelet back.
"Now tell her again"
The next day, I walked out of the house, went straight to the garage, opened the door and looked in the bottom of the fertilizer spreader to see my wife's bracelet lying there. (whew)
Anyway...that kind of exchange must have been what was happening in President Bassett's mind while he was paused in my blessing because, the next words out of his mouth were, "Tom, not everyone has somebody that they are supposed to marry, but you do. I bless you that, when you see her, you will know it instantly"
Two years later, I was talking to my girlfriend, Lisa at institute when I looked across the room and saw Kerry. The next thing I thought was, "what am I going to tell Lisa?"
Kerry and I were engaged three weeks later and married four months later. Over the years, I have seen the wisdom of our Heavenly Father in placing the two of us together. When the school district we were in was refusing to give our special needs son the services he needed, I watched in awe as the lioness I married argued with no fewer than twelve school district officials and lawyers. At the end of three hours, they finally threw in the towel and gave us everything we were asking for.
While I was recuperating from my accident, when growing a beard was the only thing I could do by myself, she fed and dressed and bathed me for the better part of a year. She never complained once or made me feel like the service she rendered me was a burden.
Over the years, she has been my companion, my confidant, my willing scrabble partner and, when I've needed it, the thorn in my side and the boot to my rear.
Our courtship was brief and so we had to get to know each other better after we married. We are both dominant personalities and so we've had to work out many many compromises over the last three decades. Most of these have concerned my personal wardrobe choices. If she hates a tie that I love, the compromise we work out is that she tells me I can keep it and then one day, several months later, I will look through my closet and realize that the tie we argued over hasn't been seen in quite a while.
If I could change one thing about her, it would be her own self-deprication. Although I love to take pictures, my wife has never been a willing subject, telling me that she want's to get a better haircut or lose some weight first.
Every time she offers these excuses, I look at her and wonder what the heck she's talking about. She looks more beautiful today than the day we married and I realize that I cannot look at her without filtering everything I take in through the three decades of our life together. And so I wrote her this poem and, in honor of the anniversary of her agreeing to rescue me, I share it with our friends:
(I'm a little ham-fisted when it comes to poetry so all I can manage is iambic pentameter)
The Portrait
I have no portrait of my wife to place upon a wall
There's none within my wallet, to share with one and all
There lies a canvas in my heart that's stretched out through the years
and with a brush of memories, I paint her portrait there
I have so many memories, from each of them I choose
her colors vibrant and bold or soft and subtle hues
and every time I add a stroke, I glance again to see
the portrait in my heart has grown more beautiful to me
Across the altar of The Lord, her lovliness and grace
are captured in my memory, and form the portrait's face
The day that our first son was born, I watched her hold the child
and it is from that memory, I paint the portrait's smile
Each tender word, each warm caress, each moment that I prize
are captured in my memory and shines within her eyes
And every day of triumph, and those of pain and grief
adds character, and contrast, and beauty underneath.
There are no borders in my heart; no barriers, nor fences
to mark the place the portrait stops, and where my soul commences
The countenance shall never fade; the colors never set
upon this cherished rendering, that's not quite finished yet.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The Last Spanking
We never did spank our kids a lot. In our home, there were only two offenses which were 'spanking-worthy'
1) The child in question did something that endangered himself or others
2) The child in question directly (and I mean DIRECTLY) defied parental authority
Then one day in Foley's during the Christmas holiday rush, Daniel became frustrated with his mother for something or other and he raised his fist to strike her. I blocked the blow and, using his raised hand to turn him around, administered two swift swats to his hindquarters.
Sniffling ensued.
I pulled Daniel off to the side and asked, "Do you know why I spanked you?"
....sniff...."yes"....sniff
"Why did I spank you?", I asked
"'cause you don't love me"
That was the last spanking I ever gave.
(you should thank your older brother, Sarah)
1) The child in question did something that endangered himself or others
2) The child in question directly (and I mean DIRECTLY) defied parental authority
Then one day in Foley's during the Christmas holiday rush, Daniel became frustrated with his mother for something or other and he raised his fist to strike her. I blocked the blow and, using his raised hand to turn him around, administered two swift swats to his hindquarters.
Sniffling ensued.
I pulled Daniel off to the side and asked, "Do you know why I spanked you?"
....sniff...."yes"....sniff
"Why did I spank you?", I asked
"'cause you don't love me"
That was the last spanking I ever gave.
(you should thank your older brother, Sarah)
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
The Duckars
When I lived in Katy Texas, I would often spend an afternoon fishing at Mary Jo Pecham Park. It was decent, as far as fishing spots go. There was rumored to be a monster catfish lurking somewhere just southwest of the pier that jutted into the eastern part of the pond. I never did see the huge fish but once, I baited one of my lines, cast out and laid it on the shore in order to bait my other line and I saw a hundred dollar rod and reel whip into the pond, following whatever fish had grabbed my bait. On another occasion, as I was watching the waterfowl swim along the pond, one of the ducks just vanished beneath the surface and never came up again. Clearly there was something large enough to drag in a rod and reel and swallow an adult duck in that water.
There was also on this pond, a female mallard with an unusually large brood of ducklings following her about. Where the most I was used to seeing was five or six babies with a mother duck, this one had fifteen. Several of my fellow anglers and I surmised that this particular hen had adopted the ducklings from other hens who had fallen prey to the monster catfish in the pond.
As you can imagine, taking care of such a large number of babies was more than a full time job for this mother hen and, in watching her go about her tasks, it was quite evident that she had developed the organizational skills and the resourcefullness of the Duggar family on television.
When it rained, the mother duck would spread her wings as wide as she could and all of the little ducklings would scramble to take shelter underneath. The problem was that the area of the combined ducklings was greater than the area of the mother ducks wingspan...no problem, they simply devised an ingenious method of taking turns. When a duckling in pack pushed his way under the wing, a duckling in front would pop out much the way a ping pong ball would pop out of a tube stuffed with ping pong balls when you shoved one into the end. The evicted duckling would never try to fight his way back under the wing. Rather, he would scramble around to the back and take his place in the queue that formed back there. All the while the mother duck looked serene and, I would even say 'majestic' as she stood rock still with the rain pelting her and her outstreached wings.
Feeding the ducklings also required a bit of ingenuity on the part of the mother duck. Most of the smaller families of duck had no problem finding enough morsels to feed 5 or 6 young ones but 15 in the same group required the mother duck to be constantly on the move. It soon became apparent that she was a novelty and she quickly decided to take advantage of her unique situation and 'took the show on the road' as it were.
It took about two hours for this mother duck to parade her brood around the lake. And all the time I was there fishing, that's all she did. She would walk around the lake with her ducklings following her and, when she came to a family enjoying a picnic or a fisherman, she would stop and gather her ducklings around her and look up at the humans expectantly.
She was never disappointed. Corners were torn from sandwiches and spare hot dog buns were broken up to feed to the huge family of ducks. They were particularly fond of worms and fishermen were especially sought out to share in the responsibility of feeding her family.
Once, she came up and stopped her family in front of me as I was fishing. I wanted to test her resolve and so I just ignored her for a while as I fished. Her patience with me lasted about fifteen seconds and soon I felt a peck at the toe of my boot.
I stamped my foot at her....
two pecks on my boot....
I gave her a worm. She looked at me as if to say, "are you kidding me?"
another peck.
I laughed out loud...is there anything more courageous than a mother taking care of her children?
I upended both cartons of bait onto the ground in front of the ducklings and started packing to leave.
It didn't look like the fishing was going to be that good anyway.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Get It While It's Hot
In my earlier married years, I used to rent a house from a dear friend of mine...a lot of you know him, Fred Knies. Actually, to call Fred a friend really doesn't do justice to him. He's in my kidney club, one of those rare individuals who, along with my siblings can call me at any time and request one of my kidneys or some bone marrow.
For those of you who don't know Fred, let me say that, he knows the value of a dollar. He did the grocery shopping because he felt his wife wasn't using enough coupons and I've personally seen him weigh all the five pound bags of potatoes so that he could get the one that weighed five and a half pounds and line up all the bottles of apple juice to get the one that was filled a fraction of an inch more than the others.
So, when we went a few years renting from him without a rent increase, it wasn't because Fred was forgetful, it was because he was mindful of our own financial straits at the time and he was exhibiting charity, a rare trait to be combined with someone so mindful of money. But then, Fred is a rare individual.
But, as it does happen, our own financial outlook changed for the better and Fred, who lived just a few doors down from us, came up to me as I was finishing up the yard work and told me that he was raising the rent by fifty dollars a month.
Now, I know I should have been grateful to him that he hadn't raised the rent in several years but all I was thinking at the time was that I was just enjoying having my head above water and now I have a rent increase to deal with.
So when Fred's little girl, Alden came skipping up a few seconds after Fred's announcement and excitedly showed me her first lost tooth, I bent down and patted her head and said, "That's WONDERFUL, Alden! Do you know that if you put that tooth under your pillow tonight, the tooth fairy will bring you fifty dollars?"
"Really?" Alden asked, her eyes wide with amazement.
"Sure enough!" I said, "That's what the tooth fairy brings to our kids!"
Then I smiled at Fred and went into the house.
Revenge isn't always a dish best served cold...sometimes you gotta serve it hot.
For those of you who don't know Fred, let me say that, he knows the value of a dollar. He did the grocery shopping because he felt his wife wasn't using enough coupons and I've personally seen him weigh all the five pound bags of potatoes so that he could get the one that weighed five and a half pounds and line up all the bottles of apple juice to get the one that was filled a fraction of an inch more than the others.
So, when we went a few years renting from him without a rent increase, it wasn't because Fred was forgetful, it was because he was mindful of our own financial straits at the time and he was exhibiting charity, a rare trait to be combined with someone so mindful of money. But then, Fred is a rare individual.
But, as it does happen, our own financial outlook changed for the better and Fred, who lived just a few doors down from us, came up to me as I was finishing up the yard work and told me that he was raising the rent by fifty dollars a month.
Now, I know I should have been grateful to him that he hadn't raised the rent in several years but all I was thinking at the time was that I was just enjoying having my head above water and now I have a rent increase to deal with.
So when Fred's little girl, Alden came skipping up a few seconds after Fred's announcement and excitedly showed me her first lost tooth, I bent down and patted her head and said, "That's WONDERFUL, Alden! Do you know that if you put that tooth under your pillow tonight, the tooth fairy will bring you fifty dollars?"
"Really?" Alden asked, her eyes wide with amazement.
"Sure enough!" I said, "That's what the tooth fairy brings to our kids!"
Then I smiled at Fred and went into the house.
Revenge isn't always a dish best served cold...sometimes you gotta serve it hot.
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