Our son had always wanted a dog of his own. Any time we walked by the pet store at our local mall he always begged to go in, “just to look”. He didn’t want one of those goofy things you could squish if you didn’t watch where you stepped, he wanted a real dog. So it didn’t surprise us when he came home one day with this cute little puppy that resembled a German Sheppard. I say resembled because he had the same coloring and pointed ears. It was, in fact, a wolf, a Timber Wolf to be exact, or nearly exact. Our son explained to us he was actually 14/16 Timber Wolf, or some such ratio, that made him legal to be sold as a pet. We reluctantly agreed to keep Nike, as our son named him, for a brief trial run.
In an effort to be good parents we studied up on wolves. We learned, for example, that they are not very social, do not like to be around a group of people, generally not trusting and would prefer to be back in the wilds. None of these characteristics surfaced immediately, but there were signs that we were not dealing with your basic lap dog here. First, he began to grow and it was not long before he was up to my waist and his feet were bigger than mine. He had piercing yellow eyes and his head was twice the size of a normal dog. If you had any doubt that the dog/wolf ratio was tilted heavily in favor of the wolf all you had to do was watch him run. I call it a run but it was more like a lope. If you saw him loping alongside a dog that was running you would instantly realize one was on the run while the other was on the hunt.
As Nike grew we became much more familiar with other little quirks of your pet wolf. He liked to eat. I don’t mean the store bought pet food you feed Fido, I mean prey. We happened to live on the side of a hill at the time. One day we walked down the hill and found a little cave where Nike had taken the carcasses of birds, rabbits, squirrels and other critters. He also ate the seat of a neighbor’s motorcycle, a leather jacket of mine, the drapes and parts of several items of household furniture, among other things. This rather disturbed my wife. So much so that one day she said to me “It’s me or the wolf”. This was not a thing you flip a coin over, this was serious and the choice was easy. We began to look for a place for Nike.
While we were looking we had one more little episode. Our next door neighbor had a son attending the local university. Studying to be a doctor, he was enrolled in several lab classes when he learned they were using animals for experiments, specifically two roosters. Having strong feelings about animal rights and being an avid supporter of PETA, this upset him greatly. He soon became involved in a protest at the university that made the papers with an article stating our neighbor had become a hero with the PETA people by rescuing the two roosters. He brought them home with him and placed them in a fenced in side yard for protection.
The next morning my wife went out to get the paper and noticed there were rooster feathers everywhere. Fortunately she is an early riser so she scrambled quickly to clean up the mess. Later that day we listened with great concern as our neighbors talked of the disappearance of the roosters.
Expediting our search for a place for Nike we found a gentleman that was willing to take him. He explained that he was a Native American Indian and that wolves are sacred to the Indians. He would take Nike to their reservation. My daughter and I drove him to their home where he would spend the night before making the trip the next day to the reservation. The next morning he called me and said “You didn’t tell me he liked to dig”. Nike had dug a six foot hole in his back yard.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
THINGS THAT BOTHER ME #3
What’s up with these soccer (I know the rest of the world calls it futbol but I am in America here and we know the game as soccer) players that score a goal and then go sprinting off by themselves with their team mates trailing along behind, looking like subservient peons waiting for a morsel of acknowledgement from their hero? I know they are overcome with joy, since they may have just scored the winning goal or possibly the only goal in so long they forgot what it was like, but I would like to remind them that they are part of a team.
Is it possible a team mate made an unbelievable pass to get you the ball in a position to score? Is it possible there were a series of brilliant passes? Maybe a team mate sacrificed themselves as a decoy to leave you open for the pass. Maybe your defenders played stifling defense to keep your team in the game and possibly your goal tender staved off shot after shot.
Aficionados’ of soccer tell me of the intricate strategy involved in the game, likening it to a chess match. I know a little about chess and there are many pieces involved, each with its own valued role in the pursuit of the objective, which is to “check mate” the opponent’s king, similar to the team effort needed to score a goal in soccer. The operative word here is “team” as in, “There is no I in team”.
Just once, I would like to see the player scoring a goal immediately pivot and embrace his team mates. Maybe hug the player that passed him the ball or high 5 the rest of the guys. Acknowledge the premise that yes, I scored the goal but I could not have done it without your help. A little thank you never hurt anyone, to say nothing of a little humility.
Other than that I just love the World Cup. What a great opportunity to learn of the great continent of Africa and its customs, the brilliant colors and the fierce pride of the African people. The music is a language of its own and “soul” lovers all over the world watch in awe as they move as if the music is coming from within. No one moves to music like the Africans.
As the great sports writer Jim Murray once wrote when writing about the Olympic Games, “Sometimes the world needs a good party”.
Is it possible a team mate made an unbelievable pass to get you the ball in a position to score? Is it possible there were a series of brilliant passes? Maybe a team mate sacrificed themselves as a decoy to leave you open for the pass. Maybe your defenders played stifling defense to keep your team in the game and possibly your goal tender staved off shot after shot.
Aficionados’ of soccer tell me of the intricate strategy involved in the game, likening it to a chess match. I know a little about chess and there are many pieces involved, each with its own valued role in the pursuit of the objective, which is to “check mate” the opponent’s king, similar to the team effort needed to score a goal in soccer. The operative word here is “team” as in, “There is no I in team”.
Just once, I would like to see the player scoring a goal immediately pivot and embrace his team mates. Maybe hug the player that passed him the ball or high 5 the rest of the guys. Acknowledge the premise that yes, I scored the goal but I could not have done it without your help. A little thank you never hurt anyone, to say nothing of a little humility.
Other than that I just love the World Cup. What a great opportunity to learn of the great continent of Africa and its customs, the brilliant colors and the fierce pride of the African people. The music is a language of its own and “soul” lovers all over the world watch in awe as they move as if the music is coming from within. No one moves to music like the Africans.
As the great sports writer Jim Murray once wrote when writing about the Olympic Games, “Sometimes the world needs a good party”.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
THE START OF THE REST OF MY LIFE
I was sitting with my brother Mike in his black El Camino 47 years ago today. I had just spent the last night of the first part of my life in my Mom and Dad’s house. Being my best man it was Mike’s job to see that I got to the church on time. We were wearing black patent leather shoes, black slacks, white tuxedo jacket and a bow tie. It was the custom not to see your bride before your wedding so we were parked down the block from St. Joseph’s church. Not being too far removed from a tour in the Army it was Mike’s custom to arrive early.
I had met Terry on a blind date arranged by my closest friend, Richard. I knew before I laid eyes on her that she was the one. There was not a smidgen of doubt in my mind. I proposed on our third date and we set a wedding date for a few months later.
As we waited we watched as family and friends began to arrive. We talked about things only 2 brothers or 2 sisters as close as we were could talk about at that time and that place. I asked Mike if he had a pencil and some paper. He found a rumpled note pad and a pencil in his glove compartment. In what was a very feeble attempt to condense a life time of thanks into words, I wrote a few pages for Mike to give to my Mom and Dad that night after we left on our honeymoon to begin the rest of our life.
At the appropriate time we pulled around in front of the church. We went down the side to meet up with the ushers before entering. As we took our places I looked down the long aisle to see Terry standing with her Dad. Wearing a long white wedding dress and veil, she was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. Nothing has changed. She is still as beautiful as ever and there is still that smile. No one smiles like Terry does. It is a treasure for which I am grateful every day of my life.
We will have dinner somewhere tonight to celebrate our 47 years together. Four beautiful, healthy kids, an ideal son and daughter in law and 5 precious grand kids later, there is a priceless sense of contentment. Few words will need to be said. She knows how I feel. God has blessed me in so, so many ways but none more so than by allowing me to share this life we are given with my best friend.
I had met Terry on a blind date arranged by my closest friend, Richard. I knew before I laid eyes on her that she was the one. There was not a smidgen of doubt in my mind. I proposed on our third date and we set a wedding date for a few months later.
As we waited we watched as family and friends began to arrive. We talked about things only 2 brothers or 2 sisters as close as we were could talk about at that time and that place. I asked Mike if he had a pencil and some paper. He found a rumpled note pad and a pencil in his glove compartment. In what was a very feeble attempt to condense a life time of thanks into words, I wrote a few pages for Mike to give to my Mom and Dad that night after we left on our honeymoon to begin the rest of our life.
At the appropriate time we pulled around in front of the church. We went down the side to meet up with the ushers before entering. As we took our places I looked down the long aisle to see Terry standing with her Dad. Wearing a long white wedding dress and veil, she was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. Nothing has changed. She is still as beautiful as ever and there is still that smile. No one smiles like Terry does. It is a treasure for which I am grateful every day of my life.
We will have dinner somewhere tonight to celebrate our 47 years together. Four beautiful, healthy kids, an ideal son and daughter in law and 5 precious grand kids later, there is a priceless sense of contentment. Few words will need to be said. She knows how I feel. God has blessed me in so, so many ways but none more so than by allowing me to share this life we are given with my best friend.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
EVACUATE NOW!!
I was born with nerve deafness. My earliest tests confirmed a loss of about 80% in both ears while recent tests have indicated a loss of about 90%. The loss has led to a few experiences over the years that very easily could have resulted in my demise but with the passage of time, seem rather humorous. One such incident occurred in a hotel in Las Vegas.
I had been commuting from my home to Las Vegas every Monday and then flying home late Friday while working on a project at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway. Over the course of a year and a half I am sure I stayed at every hotel in town but mostly at a casino/hotel called Arizona Charlie’s because of its proximity to our office and the Speedway. I stayed there so often that I was on a first name basis with almost the entire staff. They knew me well, for example, due to many complaints lodged by other guests over the loud television in my room it became routine for the hotel to put me in a room at the far end of the hall way with no guests within several rooms of mine. They were very considerate.
One morning I went down to the coffee shop about 6:30 for breakfast. As the hostess seats me she asks “How did you sleep last night?” I said “Great, why?” She proceeded to explain to me that about 3 o’clock in the morning a guest had been “cooking” drugs, or whatever it is druggies do, in his room and there had been an explosion. As fire broke out, all hell broke loose. While alarms blared urgent calls were made to the fire department and paramedics. Once on scene some of the fire department battled the blaze while others pounded on doors, rousted people out of their rooms and the casino and evacuated the hotel. All except me. Since I obviously don’t sleep with my hearing aids on, I had been oblivious to everything, even the pounding on the door.
By the time I had come down for breakfast that morning everything had returned to normal. Except for the fire damaged part of the hotel people had returned to their rooms and the casino was in full swing. There was evidence that something had gone on during the night but if the hostess had not told me the story I would have learned about the fire in the paper the next day.
I had been commuting from my home to Las Vegas every Monday and then flying home late Friday while working on a project at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway. Over the course of a year and a half I am sure I stayed at every hotel in town but mostly at a casino/hotel called Arizona Charlie’s because of its proximity to our office and the Speedway. I stayed there so often that I was on a first name basis with almost the entire staff. They knew me well, for example, due to many complaints lodged by other guests over the loud television in my room it became routine for the hotel to put me in a room at the far end of the hall way with no guests within several rooms of mine. They were very considerate.
One morning I went down to the coffee shop about 6:30 for breakfast. As the hostess seats me she asks “How did you sleep last night?” I said “Great, why?” She proceeded to explain to me that about 3 o’clock in the morning a guest had been “cooking” drugs, or whatever it is druggies do, in his room and there had been an explosion. As fire broke out, all hell broke loose. While alarms blared urgent calls were made to the fire department and paramedics. Once on scene some of the fire department battled the blaze while others pounded on doors, rousted people out of their rooms and the casino and evacuated the hotel. All except me. Since I obviously don’t sleep with my hearing aids on, I had been oblivious to everything, even the pounding on the door.
By the time I had come down for breakfast that morning everything had returned to normal. Except for the fire damaged part of the hotel people had returned to their rooms and the casino was in full swing. There was evidence that something had gone on during the night but if the hostess had not told me the story I would have learned about the fire in the paper the next day.
Monday, June 14, 2010
ABBY
If you have been following the adventures of Abigail Sunderland, as I have, you are well aware of her recent rescue in the Indian Ocean. Obviously, I am one of many as her recent blogs have generated 12,000 comments. While a few were in the “What were you thinking?” category and directed at Abby’s parents, the overwhelming majority of them were supportive of both 16 year old Abby and her Mom and Dad. I will leave it to others to debate whether they should have consented to her solo, non-stop around the world journey in the 40 foot sail boat “Wild Eyes” as I believe there are few things more personal that the decisions of how to raise one’s kids. I am sure they deemed Abby “ready” for such an adventure and if you followed her blog from the time she left Marina del Rey you would have to admit she was as qualified as most far senior to her.
I was listening to talk radio in my car when the program was interrupted to announce the news that Abby was missing. Sketchy reports would only verify that she had been talking via satellite phone with her parents when communications ceased. Having 4 kids myself I could only imagine the horror they must have felt. Also, having made 2 multi-monthly trips to South America on a fishing boat, experienced winds up to 100 miles an hour and fished cod in a very nasty Gulf of Alaska, I had visions of Abby stepping off Wild Eyes into her raft, thousands of miles from the nearest land. The news that she had activated her emergency beacons meant things had to be dire. Knowing what is set in motion with their activation means it is usually a last resort. Like the rest of those following Abby I went to bed with horrible images in my mind.
The next day we learned Qantas Airlines, God bless them, was sending a plane with qualified observers to follow the beacons. We learned she had been located and was seen sitting on the stern of Wild Eyes. Talk about finding a needle in a hay stack, this was indeed a miracle. Despite brief radio contact with the aircraft I am sure Abby wondered what was next as she watched the rescue plane head back in the direction of Australia, some 2,000 miles away.
Abby’s blog tells us the French fishing boat Ile de la Reunion arrived the following day and in abated sea’s picked her up with their raft. If you are human at all you can sense her deep disappointment at having to abandon Wild Eyes. I can just see her standing at the rail watching her as she disappeared over the horizon. She has a long, slow boat ride ahead of her before she reaches an island with an airport to begin her flight home.
My hat is off to all those involved in her rescue effort but particularly to the French fishing boat, captain and crew. As is well known, when there is a “Mayday” broadcasted on a marine radio, all else is put on hold. Through communication with others it is determined who is closest to the vessel in distress and what their capabilities are. Then it is not a matter of whether you want to go or not you just go. No questions asked, no regard for weather or the lost income from fishing time missed, you put your vessel on a heading for the broadcasting beacon and pray you get there in time. I am sure no one is more appreciative of this centuries old bond among people at sea than Abby. What a welcome sight that approaching boat must have been.
Whether it is by blog, book or documentary, I can’t wait to hear the details from Abby.
I was listening to talk radio in my car when the program was interrupted to announce the news that Abby was missing. Sketchy reports would only verify that she had been talking via satellite phone with her parents when communications ceased. Having 4 kids myself I could only imagine the horror they must have felt. Also, having made 2 multi-monthly trips to South America on a fishing boat, experienced winds up to 100 miles an hour and fished cod in a very nasty Gulf of Alaska, I had visions of Abby stepping off Wild Eyes into her raft, thousands of miles from the nearest land. The news that she had activated her emergency beacons meant things had to be dire. Knowing what is set in motion with their activation means it is usually a last resort. Like the rest of those following Abby I went to bed with horrible images in my mind.
The next day we learned Qantas Airlines, God bless them, was sending a plane with qualified observers to follow the beacons. We learned she had been located and was seen sitting on the stern of Wild Eyes. Talk about finding a needle in a hay stack, this was indeed a miracle. Despite brief radio contact with the aircraft I am sure Abby wondered what was next as she watched the rescue plane head back in the direction of Australia, some 2,000 miles away.
Abby’s blog tells us the French fishing boat Ile de la Reunion arrived the following day and in abated sea’s picked her up with their raft. If you are human at all you can sense her deep disappointment at having to abandon Wild Eyes. I can just see her standing at the rail watching her as she disappeared over the horizon. She has a long, slow boat ride ahead of her before she reaches an island with an airport to begin her flight home.
My hat is off to all those involved in her rescue effort but particularly to the French fishing boat, captain and crew. As is well known, when there is a “Mayday” broadcasted on a marine radio, all else is put on hold. Through communication with others it is determined who is closest to the vessel in distress and what their capabilities are. Then it is not a matter of whether you want to go or not you just go. No questions asked, no regard for weather or the lost income from fishing time missed, you put your vessel on a heading for the broadcasting beacon and pray you get there in time. I am sure no one is more appreciative of this centuries old bond among people at sea than Abby. What a welcome sight that approaching boat must have been.
Whether it is by blog, book or documentary, I can’t wait to hear the details from Abby.
Monday, June 7, 2010
JASON
I ran into my good friend Jason recently. He is a young man who works with my son in the automotive event business. As is typical of those in the business he is at the beck and call of customers needing his expertise at venues all over the country. Living in San Antonio, Texas he must be prepared, often with little notice, to jump on a plane for God knows where for a few days or weeks at a time. Jason is one of the very best at what he does so he is called upon often. Being happily married and with a baby on the way he decided that now was the time to act on a life long dream.
Being the entrepreneurial sort he had set aside money for years in the hopes of someday owning his own business. Someday was here. He gave up his life on the road and he and his wife dove head first into the retail business. Their store, on the outskirts of San Antonio, targeted sports goods and related sportswear for the younger generation. Knowing they were bucking the odds by entering the market when things were tough they reasoned that by hard work and long hours they could make it work.
In an effort to keep costs down they were both putting in 80 hour weeks. Days off were not in the cards. Jason would take an occasional auto event job to help the cause, often catching a red eye home so he could work all day in the store. Recently their beautiful, healthy daughter arrived. Decisions needed to be made. They decided to close their store. There would be some financial consequences but they were kept to a minimum. They held a huge sale, during which many loyal customers expressed to Jason their sadness at seeing the store close. Since then, Jason and his wife have their life back. They have a new appreciation for every moment they are a part of their child’s formative years. They learned so much about so many things and have no regrets. Mostly they learned how much they valued their precious time together.
I have great admiration for people like Jason. They dream big and are not afraid to take risks. Maybe a stumble or two early on, but in the long run, not to be denied. While most people are content with a 9 to 5 routine it takes real courage to roll the dice like Jason did. People like him exemplify everything that is good about our country.
Being the entrepreneurial sort he had set aside money for years in the hopes of someday owning his own business. Someday was here. He gave up his life on the road and he and his wife dove head first into the retail business. Their store, on the outskirts of San Antonio, targeted sports goods and related sportswear for the younger generation. Knowing they were bucking the odds by entering the market when things were tough they reasoned that by hard work and long hours they could make it work.
In an effort to keep costs down they were both putting in 80 hour weeks. Days off were not in the cards. Jason would take an occasional auto event job to help the cause, often catching a red eye home so he could work all day in the store. Recently their beautiful, healthy daughter arrived. Decisions needed to be made. They decided to close their store. There would be some financial consequences but they were kept to a minimum. They held a huge sale, during which many loyal customers expressed to Jason their sadness at seeing the store close. Since then, Jason and his wife have their life back. They have a new appreciation for every moment they are a part of their child’s formative years. They learned so much about so many things and have no regrets. Mostly they learned how much they valued their precious time together.
I have great admiration for people like Jason. They dream big and are not afraid to take risks. Maybe a stumble or two early on, but in the long run, not to be denied. While most people are content with a 9 to 5 routine it takes real courage to roll the dice like Jason did. People like him exemplify everything that is good about our country.
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