Everyone has a storey or two. Don't you? Sure you do!You may not want to share or think anyone would be interested. Something I've never dwelled upon . I ve got tons of stories, some even resemble the truth or what may have happened. The best I can remember . Not that I would wreckless with the truth.
Many cultures pass down a oral history. Our's does the same. Not as formal as others. We all seek sense of roots. Family or community anecdotes and actual history. I remember setting on the front porch on summer nights. watching the moon rise over the knob. listening to my dad and who ever dropped in. Mostly Merrile McGee or sometimes Raymond Rhine or Chester Perry.
Spring Run didn't have a large selection of neighbors to choose from. They would talk about the current event like the Apollo program and going to the moon or when they were young.
My dad a pretty good story teller himself. But , I also spent countless evenings at the store/post office/garage known as Bairs. Where Sam Stuart and Walter Groce held court. Two lovable curmudgeons and masters at spinning a yarn held court. I'm not sure either Sam or Waldo have ever been described exactly that way. Those are not the exact words I've heard my mother or Clara Bair the matriarch of the fine establishment use. I'm sure it's what they meant.
I've always been conversational. While in the Navy I honed my story telling while on long watches or boat runs. A little later on long car ride to climb or ski. Most of those with Tim G. enough that one of us could start a story and the other on finish it. I wrote monthly for the Pa Mountaineering News letter and actually had a few articles published by a regional magazine.
I really came into my own with bed time stories! I started reading to the boys from my collection of Patrick McMannus short stories. Some how through no fault of my own. They thought McMannus wrote all the stories about Ed Bair and me. You see. One of the main characters and best friend in real life was Crazy Eddie. Seldom have I referred to Ed as Eddie and never called him crazy. Now our parents may have tossed crazy and a few other adjectives the grand kids need not hear in our direction. We were always as serious as can be. Even when we repelled off the route 75 bridge. ( we called it the new bridge.) Using binder twine and old ropes we found and tied together. we were not even teenagers yet!
The boyze will ask even now. Tell us about you and Eddie Bair when you were growing up?
What a loaded question that is. First , not that much happened in Spring Run. Especially when left up to our own imaginations. What did happen. Even if the statute of limitation has run out. It should be need to know only. What happened in the Valley should stay in the valley.
Still there are a good many stories left only slightly embellished and based on fact. As few and far between as they may be. I also warned Ed. Nearly all injuries happened to him. The boyze know I have no glass eye Vienna Sausage Can. Or scars from a grizzly bear tearing off my leg. Old Doc Whitt fixed him so you can hardly tell. Warned the boyze not to stare. Eds still kind of sensitive. Also I assured Ed in my stories! We both come away better looking and smarter than we actually were. maybe. Better than some of our friends anyway.
Like Jimmy D. on one of our first real camping trips back along the knob. Jimmy and I were in 5Th grade Ed in 4Th . A noise woke Ed and I. After much whispered speculation about who or what may be circling the tent. We felt the need to know. So just like on Star Trek. We launched a probe. A probe named Jimmy. The following commotion can be best described. As the only time Ed and I have both at the same time spoke the same word " tar nation" We yelled! Jimmy awoke some what alarmed as he left the tent. Being in a sleeping bag and a smaller than Ed and I. All he could do was . Scream he did . You would have thought Jimmy had never seen a skunk before! Now it is possible the skunk had never seen a flying boy in a sleeping bag. Which excuses its next action. Y0u would have thought the sleeping bag would have soaked up more of the spray.
Our parents may have expected us to bugout before the night was over. Jimmy's parents living 4 miles farther up the road did not expect him to be busting through the door. t Well the route Jimmy took across the mountain, it was only 2 mile . later we found out they were actually awake in bed wondering what that Oder was a few minutes before Jimmy arrived.
All this occurred a week before school started. Mrs. Gingrich made Jimmy set out side the window the first two weeks of sixth grade. Fortunately it rained a lot . By thanksgiving with a little bit of Avon behind his ears and Jimmy was back in the class room. Now worse for the experience.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Sleeping Around
Getting enough sleep is my life ambition. The proper amount of rest is vital to our mental and physical well being. Least that's what they say. Those perky well rested looking people on T.V.. The older I get, the less I view perky as a positive characteristic in anyone. Napping gets a lot of props for its health benefits too. Which is one of the few things I learned in school and still find useful. Might add it was not considered healthy at the time.
I have slept in some varied environments and slept pretty well at that. Even on the hose bed of 12-1. Back when Company 12 didn't have a bunk room.
If you have never slept anywhere more exotic than on the couch or the window seat of a long flight. Don"t fill too deprived. Getting to some of the places took some effort. It was also an effort to sleep at some of them too.
Many of us have the shared experience as children on a family trip of sleeping on the floor of a 50 or 60s era car. Using the transmission hump as a head rest. Come to think of it. I think the only car seat I had was one to give me a better view. Not to mention a better chance to launch through the windshield on impact.
Some places I've slept have been spectacular but safe. Like the Upper Saddle of the Grand Teton. Or high risk but common like Dick Millers study hall. As kids we liked too sleep out. We started with modest expeditions to the living room then to back yard, Where we could at least see the mountains. We gained a lot of experience in the backyard. Like sleeping on the actual slope of the hill. Don't work. Gravity does. Hardings port a ledge was not in production yet and we had little big wall experience. we eventually pushed to the knob and the crick. Then there was Boy Scouts. Our troop actually had a cabin. On the Gingriche farm.The first time I slept on ply wood was there. More notable was our Troops and the councils weather policy . Or lack of. It could not rain too hard or be too cold. I remember one Winter camp o ree sleeping in our 9 man army surplus filled a foot deep with straw. I doubt the guide to Safe Scouting would sanction this or that our Troop ever had a copy.
Which brings us to the one place or actually a method of bedding down I have not employed. Spruce boughs as a matress. Being a product of the 60s era Boy Scout handbook and several fine publications like Wood Craft or Wilderness survival. Real campers sleep on spruce boughs.Not a Therma rest or Ridgerest who must have spent long nights in anguish, praying Leave No Trace becomes a federal law. Stan S. still opines how great it was winter camping in the Adirondacks. Stack the boughs two foot high for the floor, after a night or too it compacts to around 6 inches. That would be a capital offense today . Being a Leave No trace trainer even if I got permission on private property to wack a few trees. I would feel guilty, after awhile I'm sure. Maybe.
When we slept over as kids we never actually roughed. Even on the living room rug we had sleeping bags and what ever weapons we could get. As an adult or semi adult being able to improvise came in handy, a lot.
While in the Navy . I slept on beaches ( sounds cool. not! ) steel decks, on top of wall lockers ( better to view the rats. ) aft compartments of landing crafts, The steps of several building. Then there was John boys floor.
John, can't remember his last name but like nearly all young men who grew up in the 70s is now forever known as John boy. Thank you Richard Thomas who also played Hank Jr in Living Proof. John and a constantly changing group of shipmates rented a house in Summersville S.C. Johnson another shipmate whose family has a farm in Columbia S.C. could get a pig to roast if we picked it up.
The following friday afternoon Johnson, Rick Denton and I left for the Johnson families farm. John boy and crew stoked the fire. I should mention this was February and cold. Also it was 1978 and there was a so called gas shortage. We skipped gassing up to beat traffic. I had a 1/4 tank which is more than enough to get to Columbia in a Datsun 200sx. It was leaving Columbia we noticed all the gas stations were closed at 7 P.M. I. 26 was dark and cold that night. How far will the needle drop past E before the big sputter started. We found a Shell station in Santee open. Not sure of the mileage. But it was a long way past E. I had visions of us setting along I 26 froze to the pig. As it was. Johnson s the only one who slept in the backseat with the pig.
Later that night we stuck the pig on the fire. Johnboy said he was going to bed and we could crash where ever we liked. I did not expect a bed and knew it was too late for the couch. I had hoped for a blanket. SURVIVAL TIP : KEEP SLEEPING BAG IN TRUNK. I slept on the hallway floor. Crawling back and fourth depending on the heater out put .
Climbers identify themselves with themselves by the major climbing area they frequent. Seneca Rocks W.V a 2.5 drive from Chambersburg , Pa was mine. According to local Seneca icon and purveyor of gear,instruction and B.S.. The average climbing career or obsession at Seneca lasts 5 years. John should know he started climbing at Seneca as a W.V.U. student in the early 70s. Soon after started selling gear out of a V.W. van. Then moved up town to the chicken coop behind Buck Harper's store.. I was working on my 16 year or there about when the move south happened. When it was warm enough to climb, at least semi dry and 40F. Seneca was a monthly, bi monthly or every week end depending on motivation and availability of partners. Tim G. and I made enough trips his wife became a competent outdoors woman and trail guide. This was back when we had to ford west branch of the Potomac . Now days Seneca has a genuine Forest service spec camp ground , visitor center and trails. Brand new in the 90s thanks to a couple floods, arson and Friends of Seneca.
In 82 you camped on Roy gap road where you could pick corn and use the restroom simultaneously. At least Roy Gap road got flushed at least once a year by the spring flood . Unlike camp slime the Gunks unofficial climbers camp ground near New Paltze N. Y. The only place I've seen brush wired and staked to the ground. To help the grass grow.
When you think climbing and camping trips. You imagine scenic I pristine sites. More commonly rock jocks flop along side the road where ever might be close and cheap.
late in the game I had a dodge grande caravan. Yank the rear seats out and instant camp ground anywhere. That was late in the game , first ten years or so I drove a Volkswagen.
V.W. s are THE two man climbing mobile. They haul gear, plow through the snow, good mpg. You can also sleep upright or semi reclining. I remember on night at the Chapel Pond Slabs parking lot. Pulled in 0230 A.M. The weather called for a high of 13 F. earlier that day. Then a big cold front would move in and drop the temp big time. It was 10 F then which would be the high for the week. I remember Larry setting there in his wool knickers stomping his feet every 5 min. Saying " I can't believe its this cold". It hit -30 F the next day. Pay back earlier that year Larry drove his vintage Scout on a gunks trip. Room for him to sleep in the back. I slept underneath it. In the rain. He did put the tailgate down. We took Jim Ruffs new Subaru wagon on a Ice climbing trip to the dacks. Jim slept in the back. I slept in the snow bank. Which was fine until Jim cranked up the wagon at 0500 AM and started filling my bivy sack with exhaust.
The Wallface trip would be one of the more unique experience. After the 5 mile hike in after dark under the lush forest canopy which blocked the light of a very bright full moon. Tim and I passed the time pondering what the guide book meant by camp at the height of land. Not a phrase you run across in guides everyday. Our guesses were correct and self evident when we reached the height of land and stepped out from under the canopy of the forest, and instantly staggered backwards. The moonlight illuminating the 800 foot rock face literally in your face. The guide reads camp at the H. of L. across a small valley from Wallface. Its more like a deep narrow ravine less than a 1/4 mile from the rock. Spent the rest of the night watching a light flicker in the center of the face. We thought some one must be doing an aid route and were spending the night on a port a ledge. No bear bag or bears to mess with. but , there wasn't any one there the next morning. Read Legend Of Wallface , Tales of the Adirondacks.
I remember in High School on a fishing trip to Delaware with my father and friends. The Captain of the charter boat also ran a bed and breakfast. How quaint. I shared a single bed with dad. No small guy. Around 2 A.M. the slats finally gave out and the mattress dropped. I decided then Holiday Inn or at least Super 6 was the way to go. Well I spoke hastily or thought to my self again with out thinking.
There are to many places to go that are no where. The more places I check off the list the longer the list gets. Some destinations have no creature comforts but plenty of creatures Sometimes you have to sleep amongst them. May not comfort you but it ma be comfortable if you work at it.
I have slept in some varied environments and slept pretty well at that. Even on the hose bed of 12-1. Back when Company 12 didn't have a bunk room.
If you have never slept anywhere more exotic than on the couch or the window seat of a long flight. Don"t fill too deprived. Getting to some of the places took some effort. It was also an effort to sleep at some of them too.
Many of us have the shared experience as children on a family trip of sleeping on the floor of a 50 or 60s era car. Using the transmission hump as a head rest. Come to think of it. I think the only car seat I had was one to give me a better view. Not to mention a better chance to launch through the windshield on impact.
Some places I've slept have been spectacular but safe. Like the Upper Saddle of the Grand Teton. Or high risk but common like Dick Millers study hall. As kids we liked too sleep out. We started with modest expeditions to the living room then to back yard, Where we could at least see the mountains. We gained a lot of experience in the backyard. Like sleeping on the actual slope of the hill. Don't work. Gravity does. Hardings port a ledge was not in production yet and we had little big wall experience. we eventually pushed to the knob and the crick. Then there was Boy Scouts. Our troop actually had a cabin. On the Gingriche farm.The first time I slept on ply wood was there. More notable was our Troops and the councils weather policy . Or lack of. It could not rain too hard or be too cold. I remember one Winter camp o ree sleeping in our 9 man army surplus filled a foot deep with straw. I doubt the guide to Safe Scouting would sanction this or that our Troop ever had a copy.
Which brings us to the one place or actually a method of bedding down I have not employed. Spruce boughs as a matress. Being a product of the 60s era Boy Scout handbook and several fine publications like Wood Craft or Wilderness survival. Real campers sleep on spruce boughs.Not a Therma rest or Ridgerest who must have spent long nights in anguish, praying Leave No Trace becomes a federal law. Stan S. still opines how great it was winter camping in the Adirondacks. Stack the boughs two foot high for the floor, after a night or too it compacts to around 6 inches. That would be a capital offense today . Being a Leave No trace trainer even if I got permission on private property to wack a few trees. I would feel guilty, after awhile I'm sure. Maybe.
When we slept over as kids we never actually roughed. Even on the living room rug we had sleeping bags and what ever weapons we could get. As an adult or semi adult being able to improvise came in handy, a lot.
While in the Navy . I slept on beaches ( sounds cool. not! ) steel decks, on top of wall lockers ( better to view the rats. ) aft compartments of landing crafts, The steps of several building. Then there was John boys floor.
John, can't remember his last name but like nearly all young men who grew up in the 70s is now forever known as John boy. Thank you Richard Thomas who also played Hank Jr in Living Proof. John and a constantly changing group of shipmates rented a house in Summersville S.C. Johnson another shipmate whose family has a farm in Columbia S.C. could get a pig to roast if we picked it up.
The following friday afternoon Johnson, Rick Denton and I left for the Johnson families farm. John boy and crew stoked the fire. I should mention this was February and cold. Also it was 1978 and there was a so called gas shortage. We skipped gassing up to beat traffic. I had a 1/4 tank which is more than enough to get to Columbia in a Datsun 200sx. It was leaving Columbia we noticed all the gas stations were closed at 7 P.M. I. 26 was dark and cold that night. How far will the needle drop past E before the big sputter started. We found a Shell station in Santee open. Not sure of the mileage. But it was a long way past E. I had visions of us setting along I 26 froze to the pig. As it was. Johnson s the only one who slept in the backseat with the pig.
Later that night we stuck the pig on the fire. Johnboy said he was going to bed and we could crash where ever we liked. I did not expect a bed and knew it was too late for the couch. I had hoped for a blanket. SURVIVAL TIP : KEEP SLEEPING BAG IN TRUNK. I slept on the hallway floor. Crawling back and fourth depending on the heater out put .
Climbers identify themselves with themselves by the major climbing area they frequent. Seneca Rocks W.V a 2.5 drive from Chambersburg , Pa was mine. According to local Seneca icon and purveyor of gear,instruction and B.S.. The average climbing career or obsession at Seneca lasts 5 years. John should know he started climbing at Seneca as a W.V.U. student in the early 70s. Soon after started selling gear out of a V.W. van. Then moved up town to the chicken coop behind Buck Harper's store.. I was working on my 16 year or there about when the move south happened. When it was warm enough to climb, at least semi dry and 40F. Seneca was a monthly, bi monthly or every week end depending on motivation and availability of partners. Tim G. and I made enough trips his wife became a competent outdoors woman and trail guide. This was back when we had to ford west branch of the Potomac . Now days Seneca has a genuine Forest service spec camp ground , visitor center and trails. Brand new in the 90s thanks to a couple floods, arson and Friends of Seneca.
In 82 you camped on Roy gap road where you could pick corn and use the restroom simultaneously. At least Roy Gap road got flushed at least once a year by the spring flood . Unlike camp slime the Gunks unofficial climbers camp ground near New Paltze N. Y. The only place I've seen brush wired and staked to the ground. To help the grass grow.
When you think climbing and camping trips. You imagine scenic I pristine sites. More commonly rock jocks flop along side the road where ever might be close and cheap.
late in the game I had a dodge grande caravan. Yank the rear seats out and instant camp ground anywhere. That was late in the game , first ten years or so I drove a Volkswagen.
V.W. s are THE two man climbing mobile. They haul gear, plow through the snow, good mpg. You can also sleep upright or semi reclining. I remember on night at the Chapel Pond Slabs parking lot. Pulled in 0230 A.M. The weather called for a high of 13 F. earlier that day. Then a big cold front would move in and drop the temp big time. It was 10 F then which would be the high for the week. I remember Larry setting there in his wool knickers stomping his feet every 5 min. Saying " I can't believe its this cold". It hit -30 F the next day. Pay back earlier that year Larry drove his vintage Scout on a gunks trip. Room for him to sleep in the back. I slept underneath it. In the rain. He did put the tailgate down. We took Jim Ruffs new Subaru wagon on a Ice climbing trip to the dacks. Jim slept in the back. I slept in the snow bank. Which was fine until Jim cranked up the wagon at 0500 AM and started filling my bivy sack with exhaust.
The Wallface trip would be one of the more unique experience. After the 5 mile hike in after dark under the lush forest canopy which blocked the light of a very bright full moon. Tim and I passed the time pondering what the guide book meant by camp at the height of land. Not a phrase you run across in guides everyday. Our guesses were correct and self evident when we reached the height of land and stepped out from under the canopy of the forest, and instantly staggered backwards. The moonlight illuminating the 800 foot rock face literally in your face. The guide reads camp at the H. of L. across a small valley from Wallface. Its more like a deep narrow ravine less than a 1/4 mile from the rock. Spent the rest of the night watching a light flicker in the center of the face. We thought some one must be doing an aid route and were spending the night on a port a ledge. No bear bag or bears to mess with. but , there wasn't any one there the next morning. Read Legend Of Wallface , Tales of the Adirondacks.
I remember in High School on a fishing trip to Delaware with my father and friends. The Captain of the charter boat also ran a bed and breakfast. How quaint. I shared a single bed with dad. No small guy. Around 2 A.M. the slats finally gave out and the mattress dropped. I decided then Holiday Inn or at least Super 6 was the way to go. Well I spoke hastily or thought to my self again with out thinking.
There are to many places to go that are no where. The more places I check off the list the longer the list gets. Some destinations have no creature comforts but plenty of creatures Sometimes you have to sleep amongst them. May not comfort you but it ma be comfortable if you work at it.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Got to Run
I was re hydrating in the kitchen after a run the other day when number 2 son asked how far I had run ? Followed by why? Well, running is a lot better than not running. It takes me places. to a better place someimes, more of a recalibration than exercise. A systems check physically, mentally and spiritually. I focus not only the task at hand but refocus on life. I've had my most enlightened, creative and brilliant brain storms while running. One or two I even remembered at the end of the run.
But , that's not why I started and the reason I started is not why I continue to this day. Since then with the exception of a 2 year period I've been pounding the pavement. Reckon after you hit fifty, 2 years becomes a short period. One of the common threads running through my life has been running
When did I start and why ? I started in the fall 1973. Why? Survival, not just a Mary Decker fixation or advance studies of road kill.
I played Jr High basketball and it was no preparation at all for the introduction to High School soccer practice Mr Peterson gave us.
There was still a couple of weeks of summer vacation left when practice started in the evenings. I worked for Hammond Hill Farm owned by Mart Hammond's ( from 7th to graduation ) which sets on the side of a mountain. The mountain which is central feature of Path Valley is locally referred to as the Knob and on maps as Rising Mountain part of the Tuscarora Trail.
I remember walking to or actually more like crawling to the barn the next day. Stiff & sore, I hurt and had a couple wagons of hay waiting for me to unload and mowe. I decided not to suffer like this again! A day after like that one has caused more then one person drop out of organized sports . It only encouraged me to do more of the same. The Maximum Workout Theory which will be elaborated on in later blogs was in the embryo stage.
F.M. played an aggressive style of soccer, referred to by some opposing teams as killer soccer and our coach appreciated and encouraged hustle and quoted a lot of warmed over Bear Bryant. Which may seem odd in the heart of Penn State country. Except can you give me a Joe Pa. quote not mentioning Nittany Lion Franks.
Skill and finesse were really lacking in my game. If only my parents had put me on a travel or at least a club team by first grade I may have been a real player. But hustle. I could do.
I guess I am lucky not to have started earlier soccer being one of the rare occasions I ever used my head. What short term memory I have would now be nonexistent.
Not being the most skilled or efficient player I realized conditioning was the only edge I would ever have. I even ran after practice at night when I got home. Which if Mr Peterson would have known about would have no doubt added a few more sprints to the end of practice.
Running suits me. it is something I can do. It enables me to do the things I like to do . Simplistic, self paced, Though I have run with partners at times on a regular basis you can do it alone. I may be addicted, its a healthy addiction if it is. I've run in 12 different states three foreign countries. On board ships. Eventually it may become a walk but like both feet hitting the floor in the morning, You need to get out the door and into the world. I ride the bike in a haphazard schedule. If things start wearing out I'll have to up the bike mileage.
I used to ride with the Harrisburg bike club. Jim and Martha kinda adopted an older ( 70 something ) gentleman Eddie. Or he adopted them. Eddie had a modified gear ring. A granny gear that dropped so low it practically screamed when he shifted. He also had Jim and Martha , one of the secrets of staying active is staying with active people. There I have a couple of role models. Not everyone rides their bike to and from chemo treatments!
When I run.I relax. I get lost in the cadence or rhythm, footfall, breath. my thoughts. Moving meditation some times in prayer , sometimes praise.. I am able and thankful. My mind is running faster along with most of the world than I am actually moving. I know that when I unable to run for periods of time. I get really irritable. Maybe I am addicted? ( Actually I read the criteria and I am only borderline ). It's a lot cheaper than meds & therapy.
Addicts will go to great lengths for a fix. Ten years or so ago when I started the stay at home dad and blacksmith gig. Running a start up business with a 3 and 6 year to run after. Left little time to run. Some how leaving the 6 year old in charge while I ran for an hour did not seem responsible. Not that they ever came close to burning the house down or getting the cat into the washer. Then one day it hit me. Like manna or a rock. We live on a 2 &1/3 acre chunk of North Alabama , I called it 4 laps a mile. Actually had a couple 5 mile days. We have a nice stand of pines on our north and south boundaries. Its just about like trail running. At times!
When you can no longer snap the top button of you bib overalls its time to do something. I've come to these cross roads or mile markers of sorts more than once . Do you continue the down hill slide or start digging your way out. So far I have always dug out.
Things have improved over time. the 6 year old is now driving himself to school. The 3 year old drives up the driveway from the mailbox. I can go for a long run now and not feel the need to look over my shoulder for smoke or listen for sirens.
Gotta run now.
But , that's not why I started and the reason I started is not why I continue to this day. Since then with the exception of a 2 year period I've been pounding the pavement. Reckon after you hit fifty, 2 years becomes a short period. One of the common threads running through my life has been running
When did I start and why ? I started in the fall 1973. Why? Survival, not just a Mary Decker fixation or advance studies of road kill.
I played Jr High basketball and it was no preparation at all for the introduction to High School soccer practice Mr Peterson gave us.
There was still a couple of weeks of summer vacation left when practice started in the evenings. I worked for Hammond Hill Farm owned by Mart Hammond's ( from 7th to graduation ) which sets on the side of a mountain. The mountain which is central feature of Path Valley is locally referred to as the Knob and on maps as Rising Mountain part of the Tuscarora Trail.
I remember walking to or actually more like crawling to the barn the next day. Stiff & sore, I hurt and had a couple wagons of hay waiting for me to unload and mowe. I decided not to suffer like this again! A day after like that one has caused more then one person drop out of organized sports . It only encouraged me to do more of the same. The Maximum Workout Theory which will be elaborated on in later blogs was in the embryo stage.
F.M. played an aggressive style of soccer, referred to by some opposing teams as killer soccer and our coach appreciated and encouraged hustle and quoted a lot of warmed over Bear Bryant. Which may seem odd in the heart of Penn State country. Except can you give me a Joe Pa. quote not mentioning Nittany Lion Franks.
Skill and finesse were really lacking in my game. If only my parents had put me on a travel or at least a club team by first grade I may have been a real player. But hustle. I could do.
I guess I am lucky not to have started earlier soccer being one of the rare occasions I ever used my head. What short term memory I have would now be nonexistent.
Not being the most skilled or efficient player I realized conditioning was the only edge I would ever have. I even ran after practice at night when I got home. Which if Mr Peterson would have known about would have no doubt added a few more sprints to the end of practice.
Running suits me. it is something I can do. It enables me to do the things I like to do . Simplistic, self paced, Though I have run with partners at times on a regular basis you can do it alone. I may be addicted, its a healthy addiction if it is. I've run in 12 different states three foreign countries. On board ships. Eventually it may become a walk but like both feet hitting the floor in the morning, You need to get out the door and into the world. I ride the bike in a haphazard schedule. If things start wearing out I'll have to up the bike mileage.
I used to ride with the Harrisburg bike club. Jim and Martha kinda adopted an older ( 70 something ) gentleman Eddie. Or he adopted them. Eddie had a modified gear ring. A granny gear that dropped so low it practically screamed when he shifted. He also had Jim and Martha , one of the secrets of staying active is staying with active people. There I have a couple of role models. Not everyone rides their bike to and from chemo treatments!
When I run.I relax. I get lost in the cadence or rhythm, footfall, breath. my thoughts. Moving meditation some times in prayer , sometimes praise.. I am able and thankful. My mind is running faster along with most of the world than I am actually moving. I know that when I unable to run for periods of time. I get really irritable. Maybe I am addicted? ( Actually I read the criteria and I am only borderline ). It's a lot cheaper than meds & therapy.
Addicts will go to great lengths for a fix. Ten years or so ago when I started the stay at home dad and blacksmith gig. Running a start up business with a 3 and 6 year to run after. Left little time to run. Some how leaving the 6 year old in charge while I ran for an hour did not seem responsible. Not that they ever came close to burning the house down or getting the cat into the washer. Then one day it hit me. Like manna or a rock. We live on a 2 &1/3 acre chunk of North Alabama , I called it 4 laps a mile. Actually had a couple 5 mile days. We have a nice stand of pines on our north and south boundaries. Its just about like trail running. At times!
When you can no longer snap the top button of you bib overalls its time to do something. I've come to these cross roads or mile markers of sorts more than once . Do you continue the down hill slide or start digging your way out. So far I have always dug out.
Things have improved over time. the 6 year old is now driving himself to school. The 3 year old drives up the driveway from the mailbox. I can go for a long run now and not feel the need to look over my shoulder for smoke or listen for sirens.
Gotta run now.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Hats
I have never really been a hat person. It would be just one more thing to keep up with. Then after climbing at Seneca Rocks one early March week end. I was laying in bed that Sunday night I had a odd sensation emanating from the top of my head. I've had this feeling before but never from my scalp. After a few moments of pondering this. It then it hit me. I sun burned the top of my head. That's a landmark occasion in a not yet 30 guys life! The dew rag became part of my outdoor attire from then on.
Twenty years later, I am still not a hat person but, I have a couple and more dew rags than I can keep track of. Mostly to protect the top of my head from the sun. When you're the inspiration for Fishbelly White a figment of T. Garlands imagination. You have to be careful. Old friends are like good hats with the exception 20 some years of mutually assured character assassination. They just fit you well.
I still have hair its just a Tad thinner. I have hats like my green cowboy hat with the mesh for ballgames out door shows or long walks. I even have a cap to wear running. I've been wearing it for a little over a year now and ....I like it! Surprised even me. I'd seen them in catalogs and adds. I never really thought I ran far enough to worry about exposure to the sun. Its more of a indication of how slow I run .
It's white with reflective trim , mesh sidewalls or what ever you call the part of the hat that runs from the band to the top . Not much weight to it. really unobtrusive. I hardly notice it , Unless I run with out it. Which I have done more than once since hats are kind if hard to keep track of.. least ways for me. I like how the bill blocks the sun and especially on those hot humid days , the bill works like a rain gutter. Keeps the sweat out of your eyes and off your face. Has held up to weekly washings sometime biweekly . That's when I make up for not washing it in the previous week or two,
The original reason I purchased the hat was to keep the skin from peeling off my head.I've found my $8 hat to be a bargain at R.E.I. . Now I still have hair, might be thin but it's still hanging in there. Once it gets to a certain point there will be no come overs. I'll just shave everything. I would now but its too much work. I like the low maintenance aspect. I don't have a scraggly beard because I think it looks good or as a Festus Hagen memorial. I just don't like to shave.
I also have an A.L.F. ( Alex Lowes Friends ) hat not the TV character type but a Nepalese type that fits under a climbing helmet. Made by a Little co-op in Utah for Conrad Anker and Alex Lowe. Bob Ingle hung with Conrad and went on a trip to Alaska with him. He brought home a slide show along with a box of hats to sell. The hat looks dorky but serves its purpose well. Alex was lost in a avalanche a few years ago. Conrad married his widow and we haven't heard from Bob or his big brother Bill in years. You can still find the the hats in catalogs like Mountain Tools or Back Country Magazine.
Then there's my Patagonia Balaclava, kinda a hood and turtle neck combo. Nice for hanging out in 10 degree weather. Not that it gets much use in Al. But you just never know. Been a cool summer! It resides in a drawer with a assortment of headbands watch caps / toboggans, gloves and mittens that seem to come and go. Seasonal workers do that I guess. I still have my original Navy watch cap I was issued in boot camp. It never fit right and rarely wore it even in the Navy. I thought I threw it away a couple of times, but seems to crawl back.
In there amongst the pile in the drawer is my headband. Well, its not really mine its my sisters. It used to go with a matching pair of mittens and a coat with fake fur trim. That was back in 1967 . The mittens and coat are long gone. My sisters a long way from here too.
How I got the head band I can't really say. Inherited in a way. We used to play football or basketball Sunday afternoons at the Dry Run Elem. pretty much all through the school year. I just started borrowing it. She left for college in 70 and it stayed behind. Its made of wool not the smart kind we have today either. Wool that actually came from a sheep. Organic, Forty some years later its trendy. I have a couple of other head bands . Some are camo and a reflecting one for night runs, it matches the vest. When I was working second shift I would sometimes run at midnight.
One night running north on 75 I was crossing the bridge running in the center of the road as a tractor and trailer started to cross the intersection on 641 headed west. The only lights were Bairs store and the IGA. This was Before Path Valley family Restaurant. He stopped in the middle of the intersection and stared for a moment. I must of looked liked like an angel or alien or the JOGGER from the Bobby Bare song . All aglow in reflective glory.
I have a couple just for xc-skiing or cold runs made out of smart wool,, capilene or some other poloy hydrophobic insulating Kleenex type material that works better than plain old wool. It still works though. Not just keeping my ears warm , but as a memory jogger. ( pun not really intended. ) of things from the past. Things you actually feel more than remember. An external memory device ..a link to times and places you're not sure existed even then .
I don't really find any comfort in clutter and it stays in the drawer where I can find it on cold days. If my sister would want it back its hers and I have others. Until then I'll keep it. Like most things we keep in our life's it still serves a purpose.
Twenty years later, I am still not a hat person but, I have a couple and more dew rags than I can keep track of. Mostly to protect the top of my head from the sun. When you're the inspiration for Fishbelly White a figment of T. Garlands imagination. You have to be careful. Old friends are like good hats with the exception 20 some years of mutually assured character assassination. They just fit you well.
I still have hair its just a Tad thinner. I have hats like my green cowboy hat with the mesh for ballgames out door shows or long walks. I even have a cap to wear running. I've been wearing it for a little over a year now and ....I like it! Surprised even me. I'd seen them in catalogs and adds. I never really thought I ran far enough to worry about exposure to the sun. Its more of a indication of how slow I run .
It's white with reflective trim , mesh sidewalls or what ever you call the part of the hat that runs from the band to the top . Not much weight to it. really unobtrusive. I hardly notice it , Unless I run with out it. Which I have done more than once since hats are kind if hard to keep track of.. least ways for me. I like how the bill blocks the sun and especially on those hot humid days , the bill works like a rain gutter. Keeps the sweat out of your eyes and off your face. Has held up to weekly washings sometime biweekly . That's when I make up for not washing it in the previous week or two,
The original reason I purchased the hat was to keep the skin from peeling off my head.I've found my $8 hat to be a bargain at R.E.I. . Now I still have hair, might be thin but it's still hanging in there. Once it gets to a certain point there will be no come overs. I'll just shave everything. I would now but its too much work. I like the low maintenance aspect. I don't have a scraggly beard because I think it looks good or as a Festus Hagen memorial. I just don't like to shave.
I also have an A.L.F. ( Alex Lowes Friends ) hat not the TV character type but a Nepalese type that fits under a climbing helmet. Made by a Little co-op in Utah for Conrad Anker and Alex Lowe. Bob Ingle hung with Conrad and went on a trip to Alaska with him. He brought home a slide show along with a box of hats to sell. The hat looks dorky but serves its purpose well. Alex was lost in a avalanche a few years ago. Conrad married his widow and we haven't heard from Bob or his big brother Bill in years. You can still find the the hats in catalogs like Mountain Tools or Back Country Magazine.
Then there's my Patagonia Balaclava, kinda a hood and turtle neck combo. Nice for hanging out in 10 degree weather. Not that it gets much use in Al. But you just never know. Been a cool summer! It resides in a drawer with a assortment of headbands watch caps / toboggans, gloves and mittens that seem to come and go. Seasonal workers do that I guess. I still have my original Navy watch cap I was issued in boot camp. It never fit right and rarely wore it even in the Navy. I thought I threw it away a couple of times, but seems to crawl back.
In there amongst the pile in the drawer is my headband. Well, its not really mine its my sisters. It used to go with a matching pair of mittens and a coat with fake fur trim. That was back in 1967 . The mittens and coat are long gone. My sisters a long way from here too.
How I got the head band I can't really say. Inherited in a way. We used to play football or basketball Sunday afternoons at the Dry Run Elem. pretty much all through the school year. I just started borrowing it. She left for college in 70 and it stayed behind. Its made of wool not the smart kind we have today either. Wool that actually came from a sheep. Organic, Forty some years later its trendy. I have a couple of other head bands . Some are camo and a reflecting one for night runs, it matches the vest. When I was working second shift I would sometimes run at midnight.
One night running north on 75 I was crossing the bridge running in the center of the road as a tractor and trailer started to cross the intersection on 641 headed west. The only lights were Bairs store and the IGA. This was Before Path Valley family Restaurant. He stopped in the middle of the intersection and stared for a moment. I must of looked liked like an angel or alien or the JOGGER from the Bobby Bare song . All aglow in reflective glory.
I have a couple just for xc-skiing or cold runs made out of smart wool,, capilene or some other poloy hydrophobic insulating Kleenex type material that works better than plain old wool. It still works though. Not just keeping my ears warm , but as a memory jogger. ( pun not really intended. ) of things from the past. Things you actually feel more than remember. An external memory device ..a link to times and places you're not sure existed even then .
I don't really find any comfort in clutter and it stays in the drawer where I can find it on cold days. If my sister would want it back its hers and I have others. Until then I'll keep it. Like most things we keep in our life's it still serves a purpose.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Looking For Tad
We joke about everyone in the Valley being related. With my nieces marriage to Mark. We now have a good shot at it 3 or 4 times removed. A friend of ours has taken up genealogy and keeps finding new home grown relatives. Much to the chagrin to my mother.
Usually it's some one she wouldn't cross the street to say howdy to. If Path valley had actual streets. There are some good things about being able to just walk down the road.
On the drive home from the wedding reception ,by way of Akron .I was told I had behaved differently. Different! How?. " Not like Dad" I had a good time. Which is n't that unusual . What was fifferent ? Well the boys had never been in a group that large where everyone new each other.Multiple generations, who had known each other all their lives. Looking back on it. I was not as restrained or guarded as normal. Tad showed up. They had never met Tad . I had n't seen him for a while myself. Which is odd, I used to see him in the mirror everyday.
I have missed him though , often I have stood there toothbrush in hand wondering what ever happened to him. Well even your dog goes away if you ignore it long enough. The you just forget he was ever there . Why he left to I don't really know. Well. Actually if I am honest about it, I squeezed the life out of him.Or life squeezed him out of me.
Most people don't remember Tad or know where he came from. Tad came about in 1968 at Hidden valley a Boy Scout camp in central Pa. Some what influenced by the theme song from Red Skeleton's T.V. show. My father was one of our adult leaders that week. Dad was a definite type A personality. Some one commented he was always croaking about something. Hence Frogger. I was tagged with Son of Frogger. It took a day or two to evolve to Tadpole then to Tad
Tad was also the name of a character on Dark Shadows. (Just a trivia point). I was Tad for a long time. I can categorise people on how they address me. Markie: Few living people call me Markie those that do are part of the original cast. Tad: Classmates , friends of that era. Marc: Most of the world now after I stenciled my name and social on my underwear in boot camp. Marcus: teacher/instructor or someone I have had a formal business relationship with.
I liked Tad, still do. most people do. Some what a smart ass, annoying at times but pretty easy going. You may think Tad was quiet, until you knew him. In recent years Marc has actually been asked if he ever laughed or had a sense of humor. Tad was never asked that . quite the opposite. Both Tad and Marc have a sarcastic dry wit. Some where along the line Marc realized not everyone appreciated it and decided not to inflict himself randomly on others. A real loss to society there! Even now Tad slips out at home and certain overly serious teenagers get agitated and want to know why I have to joke about everything.
Neither of us were ever overly concerned about appearance's Looking stupid trying something different. Or being different. Marc is a bit more concerned with offending or hurting someones feeling. Neither of us worry about people may think about us. If all you have to do is worry about what I'm doing. Well . Glad to help,enjoy.
Both of us realized a long time ago we were not always the smartest person in the room. Marc just enjoys watching those who do prove they're not. Tad would have to argue . Why Tad went away.
Well, honestly, he just could not stand Marc any more. Our lives are so much different. Tad was too inflexible too regimented. Too self centered. Tad did pretty much what he wanted. On schedule , His schedule. At work by 6 off at 2:30. Work out at gym pull or push. Climb week ends. or ski depending on the season or both. 2 0r 3 climbing sessions through the week?
Marc schedule? Don't have one. I am on call 24 / 7, Who needs to go where and when? Long run and bike or short run and bike. Tell me the week end and I could tell you where I would probably be. Tad was always on time . Most likely early. I never ran late until marriage and kids.. Being a Federal Employee I could take off anytime some one called. And I did! More than once I left for work in the morning found myself in New York or West Virginia in the evening.
Now Tad was not a bad guy. Went to church at least once a month with his parents. Had diner or lunch once a week with them. Had to get my laundry done some how ! ( We'll discuss the expression of love through food and folding clothes later ). Tad was a funhawg. Some people would do not consider long runs or toting a 40 pound pack around fun. Then again neither of us ever claimed to be normal.
In my darker moments I can point to when the demise of Tad began. Soon after the move south. I left my friends/support group. No one called anymore! Some one asks Marc about a friend of his now , There' a good chance I will reply." Ain't got no Friends". I think thats funny. I also know it's not true! friends do call or at least email. What I don't have is time.
Did I mention Tad was single. He actually seriously considered marriage twice and twice did the other person a favor by deciding not to. But, If you would have told Tad how Marcs life was going now. He would say," Just like I planned . It is the details that get you!"
Tad had a long range plan for his . Made decisions aware of the likely outcomes and consequence's. Which is probably why he didn't marry until his early thirties and why nearly 20 years later is still married. I realized . Time management becomes an issue especially when it's no longer just your time. Becoming a backyard blacksmith and stay at home dad was one of them. I knew from the start what I was getting into. Years later I read a magazine article about the issues that people who quite work and become stay at home parents. I could have wrote it.
I got through it with prayer and running laps around the yard. I came to a cross roads or point you hit every now and then. Where you have to make a decision to keep going in the same direction or make a change. When the top button of my bib overalls became hard to button, big!decision time. Even spending quality time with an anvil doesn't burn enough calories. Especially when eating becomes a hobby! I 'm not sure how deep Tad was buried because I quite weighing myself after I hit a certain weight. I was not looking for Tad as much as trying to rescue Marc.
I measured the perimeter of our lot and started running laps. I could still watch the boys and get a few miles in. Desperate people do desperate things. We always have considered how our decisions affect our family. Nearly everything Tad enjoys doing are not activities everyone can participate in. Or want to. I 've seen people who drag the kids along with them climbing etc. Now since they have been small we have gone camping and climbing trips . But have kept it age appropriate. We try to expose our kids to knew things and encourage their interest. The key phrase there is " their interests" . They have to want to . The only pushing we do is grades. Our standards are higher than the schools. If the grades aren't there. Your activities over. With the ability to track grades online we know hats coming down at the end of the marking period. I actually feel sorry for them. I remember all Tad wanted from school was to get out.
Tad still wants to get out. He does now and then on occasions. A bit more subdued or maybe refined which am muses both of us. Fishbelly gets a chuckle out of it too. But that or him is a different story.
Usually it's some one she wouldn't cross the street to say howdy to. If Path valley had actual streets. There are some good things about being able to just walk down the road.
On the drive home from the wedding reception ,by way of Akron .I was told I had behaved differently. Different! How?. " Not like Dad" I had a good time. Which is n't that unusual . What was fifferent ? Well the boys had never been in a group that large where everyone new each other.Multiple generations, who had known each other all their lives. Looking back on it. I was not as restrained or guarded as normal. Tad showed up. They had never met Tad . I had n't seen him for a while myself. Which is odd, I used to see him in the mirror everyday.
I have missed him though , often I have stood there toothbrush in hand wondering what ever happened to him. Well even your dog goes away if you ignore it long enough. The you just forget he was ever there . Why he left to I don't really know. Well. Actually if I am honest about it, I squeezed the life out of him.Or life squeezed him out of me.
Most people don't remember Tad or know where he came from. Tad came about in 1968 at Hidden valley a Boy Scout camp in central Pa. Some what influenced by the theme song from Red Skeleton's T.V. show. My father was one of our adult leaders that week. Dad was a definite type A personality. Some one commented he was always croaking about something. Hence Frogger. I was tagged with Son of Frogger. It took a day or two to evolve to Tadpole then to Tad
Tad was also the name of a character on Dark Shadows. (Just a trivia point). I was Tad for a long time. I can categorise people on how they address me. Markie: Few living people call me Markie those that do are part of the original cast. Tad: Classmates , friends of that era. Marc: Most of the world now after I stenciled my name and social on my underwear in boot camp. Marcus: teacher/instructor or someone I have had a formal business relationship with.
I liked Tad, still do. most people do. Some what a smart ass, annoying at times but pretty easy going. You may think Tad was quiet, until you knew him. In recent years Marc has actually been asked if he ever laughed or had a sense of humor. Tad was never asked that . quite the opposite. Both Tad and Marc have a sarcastic dry wit. Some where along the line Marc realized not everyone appreciated it and decided not to inflict himself randomly on others. A real loss to society there! Even now Tad slips out at home and certain overly serious teenagers get agitated and want to know why I have to joke about everything.
Neither of us were ever overly concerned about appearance's Looking stupid trying something different. Or being different. Marc is a bit more concerned with offending or hurting someones feeling. Neither of us worry about people may think about us. If all you have to do is worry about what I'm doing. Well . Glad to help,enjoy.
Both of us realized a long time ago we were not always the smartest person in the room. Marc just enjoys watching those who do prove they're not. Tad would have to argue . Why Tad went away.
Well, honestly, he just could not stand Marc any more. Our lives are so much different. Tad was too inflexible too regimented. Too self centered. Tad did pretty much what he wanted. On schedule , His schedule. At work by 6 off at 2:30. Work out at gym pull or push. Climb week ends. or ski depending on the season or both. 2 0r 3 climbing sessions through the week?
Marc schedule? Don't have one. I am on call 24 / 7, Who needs to go where and when? Long run and bike or short run and bike. Tell me the week end and I could tell you where I would probably be. Tad was always on time . Most likely early. I never ran late until marriage and kids.. Being a Federal Employee I could take off anytime some one called. And I did! More than once I left for work in the morning found myself in New York or West Virginia in the evening.
Now Tad was not a bad guy. Went to church at least once a month with his parents. Had diner or lunch once a week with them. Had to get my laundry done some how ! ( We'll discuss the expression of love through food and folding clothes later ). Tad was a funhawg. Some people would do not consider long runs or toting a 40 pound pack around fun. Then again neither of us ever claimed to be normal.
In my darker moments I can point to when the demise of Tad began. Soon after the move south. I left my friends/support group. No one called anymore! Some one asks Marc about a friend of his now , There' a good chance I will reply." Ain't got no Friends". I think thats funny. I also know it's not true! friends do call or at least email. What I don't have is time.
Did I mention Tad was single. He actually seriously considered marriage twice and twice did the other person a favor by deciding not to. But, If you would have told Tad how Marcs life was going now. He would say," Just like I planned . It is the details that get you!"
Tad had a long range plan for his . Made decisions aware of the likely outcomes and consequence's. Which is probably why he didn't marry until his early thirties and why nearly 20 years later is still married. I realized . Time management becomes an issue especially when it's no longer just your time. Becoming a backyard blacksmith and stay at home dad was one of them. I knew from the start what I was getting into. Years later I read a magazine article about the issues that people who quite work and become stay at home parents. I could have wrote it.
I got through it with prayer and running laps around the yard. I came to a cross roads or point you hit every now and then. Where you have to make a decision to keep going in the same direction or make a change. When the top button of my bib overalls became hard to button, big!decision time. Even spending quality time with an anvil doesn't burn enough calories. Especially when eating becomes a hobby! I 'm not sure how deep Tad was buried because I quite weighing myself after I hit a certain weight. I was not looking for Tad as much as trying to rescue Marc.
I measured the perimeter of our lot and started running laps. I could still watch the boys and get a few miles in. Desperate people do desperate things. We always have considered how our decisions affect our family. Nearly everything Tad enjoys doing are not activities everyone can participate in. Or want to. I 've seen people who drag the kids along with them climbing etc. Now since they have been small we have gone camping and climbing trips . But have kept it age appropriate. We try to expose our kids to knew things and encourage their interest. The key phrase there is " their interests" . They have to want to . The only pushing we do is grades. Our standards are higher than the schools. If the grades aren't there. Your activities over. With the ability to track grades online we know hats coming down at the end of the marking period. I actually feel sorry for them. I remember all Tad wanted from school was to get out.
Tad still wants to get out. He does now and then on occasions. A bit more subdued or maybe refined which am muses both of us. Fishbelly gets a chuckle out of it too. But that or him is a different story.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Giving
One aspect of growth is learning to be generous, giving time and money. What ever is needed when the opportunity presents itself. I 've benefited countless times myself, the previously mentioned can of soda. Patience and tolerance of my idiosyncrasies the most common gift i receive, gratefully.
Several years ago in a valley far , far away, at a swimming pool in the middle of a corn field. A high school graduation party was going on. When we offered to compensate "repay" our two classmates who acquired the beverages. They refused to accept. It was their gift. After being pressed by several of his classmates to accept one of our benefactors replied " the problem with the world is no one knows how to accept a gift". I had two thought nearly simultaneously. ( being younger then it didn't make me dizzy)..I thought .Wow , kind of profound,, He heard that some where. He's had about as many original thoughts as I have. At least he remembered it and passed it along.
Now , I am making the jump from underage drinking, something I,ve out grown to Mark 12:43-44, The widow who gave all and the realization this is more about false pride then anything else.
I believe everyone has a need to give.We are also are directed to give. So , Who are we to refuse a gift of charity. When we are giving them a chance to give. I can name names of people that would die before accepting free cup of coffee. They are literally aghast at the thought of accepting anything from anybody or is it the thought of some one finding out. I understand the mind set. I've had this conversation with friends and family. Don't you need the money? The amount we are talking about , no. Now I could put a 100,000. to good use.
If you provide a service you deserve the pay you earn. I understand wanting to pay your own way. One Saturday morning there was a knock at the door. A gentleman speaking rather poor English wanted to know if I was the welder . The stick shift had broken off at the base. He removed it from the car, I welded it. Ten minutes. I wanted to get on with my week end. He wanted to pay me. Which he should rightfully expect to do. Now my hourly rate's close to what his cars blue book value. Not to mention getting me to work on Saturday morning. I told him no problem, no charge.He then pulled out a wad of cash to show he could pay.
Now welding is not my primary pursuit but it is something I am skilled at. My craft and time are blessings from god. They are mine to give as I choose. I try to make the right choices.I also saw that my new friend had the need to pay. I allowed him. Held out my hand " $5 please, Thank You very much". He was happy and I would have been just as happy to give him more to help with gas.
But and there 's always a but! He most likely had a family to provide for. You need a car to get to work the grocery store . This was a repair he needed and like the rest of us planned to pay for.
He came to my door with money in his pocket not his hand out. Who am I or we to tell someone else how to spend their money or to give there resources. Is it pride that gets in the way. When we do give and someone thanks us we then say " No thank You". When the proper response ( Miss Manners backs me up) is You're Welcome
If we can not accept someones gratitude. How can we accept grace.
Several years ago in a valley far , far away, at a swimming pool in the middle of a corn field. A high school graduation party was going on. When we offered to compensate "repay" our two classmates who acquired the beverages. They refused to accept. It was their gift. After being pressed by several of his classmates to accept one of our benefactors replied " the problem with the world is no one knows how to accept a gift". I had two thought nearly simultaneously. ( being younger then it didn't make me dizzy)..I thought .Wow , kind of profound,, He heard that some where. He's had about as many original thoughts as I have. At least he remembered it and passed it along.
Now , I am making the jump from underage drinking, something I,ve out grown to Mark 12:43-44, The widow who gave all and the realization this is more about false pride then anything else.
I believe everyone has a need to give.We are also are directed to give. So , Who are we to refuse a gift of charity. When we are giving them a chance to give. I can name names of people that would die before accepting free cup of coffee. They are literally aghast at the thought of accepting anything from anybody or is it the thought of some one finding out. I understand the mind set. I've had this conversation with friends and family. Don't you need the money? The amount we are talking about , no. Now I could put a 100,000. to good use.
If you provide a service you deserve the pay you earn. I understand wanting to pay your own way. One Saturday morning there was a knock at the door. A gentleman speaking rather poor English wanted to know if I was the welder . The stick shift had broken off at the base. He removed it from the car, I welded it. Ten minutes. I wanted to get on with my week end. He wanted to pay me. Which he should rightfully expect to do. Now my hourly rate's close to what his cars blue book value. Not to mention getting me to work on Saturday morning. I told him no problem, no charge.He then pulled out a wad of cash to show he could pay.
Now welding is not my primary pursuit but it is something I am skilled at. My craft and time are blessings from god. They are mine to give as I choose. I try to make the right choices.I also saw that my new friend had the need to pay. I allowed him. Held out my hand " $5 please, Thank You very much". He was happy and I would have been just as happy to give him more to help with gas.
But and there 's always a but! He most likely had a family to provide for. You need a car to get to work the grocery store . This was a repair he needed and like the rest of us planned to pay for.
He came to my door with money in his pocket not his hand out. Who am I or we to tell someone else how to spend their money or to give there resources. Is it pride that gets in the way. When we do give and someone thanks us we then say " No thank You". When the proper response ( Miss Manners backs me up) is You're Welcome
If we can not accept someones gratitude. How can we accept grace.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
A Good Paddling
It surprises me now and then how dependant we are on if not the kindness of others or at least their co-operation. Knowingly or not. Yesterday being a prime example.Every now and then I like to go out on my own and just go for it.
Travel at my own pace be that what it may. ( If you factor in age & weight every excursion can be a personal best ) .. Which is hard to accomplish with two sons and their friends who we invite along. Surprising many are repeat participants. I suppose they don't tell their parents or their parent think I know what I am doing. After all would you take your own children hiking , climbing etc. unless you were competent? As much as I believe it is our responsibility to mentor the next generation. Demonstrate as well as we can by example. As a Christian you can go out in the world and participate. Es specially where the pavement ends. But traveling with a group is kind of like racing with a speed limit.
I am only slightly off subject.
Everything came to gather this Saturday afternoon. Cary has been indentured to the Boy Scouts all summer on Staff at Sequoya decided not to come home for the day. Travis is in Michigan with the Hooker family and mowed the grass before he left. Now I do need to clarify one thing. At no time has anything I have ever done or will do depend on mowing the yard. Our lawn tractor has a chronometer to keep track of the time in use. Or the time you waste cutting grass. What a monument to futility. I would buy a goat but we spend enough at the Vet with just the dog.
I did prep and apply the first coat of paint to the boys bath tub in the morning. I'll touch on tub restoration later.
I have finally put the kayak in the water and set the baseline for what I refer to as the
Double W. Paddle from Walker Lane bridge to Winchester Rd. bridge a approx. 12 mile run in 3 & 3/4 hr.
Could have been quicker with a higher flow rate. You can only drag/carry a boat so fast over wet rocks.
As much as I enjoy going solo and I realize the world is not there to be support for team Marc. or I would be a cat.
My whole afternoon hinged on a couple of acts of generosity of others. Being the narcissist I am they did not go unnoticed.
First of all my loving wife Shirley from here out known a S.S.W. "Shirley the Shuttle Wench."
S.S.W. allowed me the time to go. She will tell you I don't need her permission but more importantly she agreed to run shuttle. Upon arrival at the put in at Walker Ln. my 2 liter of water turned up missing. The weather forecast called for mid 90s and a heat factor of 100 to 105.
I 've been pounding fluids all morning and chugged a 20 ouncer of propel on the ride from the house . Being blessed with more than my share of stupid from the start. I figured I could make it to the take out at Oscar Paterson on what I had in me. Stupid and ignorance are two different things though. Even us legends in our own minds need water. The Winchester Rd. leg would have to wait. Then S.S.W. gave me her 1 liter of smart water. Now that's love. Winchester Rd. was now back on the table. I had a plan. And water. Off I went assuring S.S.W. I would call from either Oscar Paterson or Winchester depending on how good of time I made and water. She's heard this before.
Back to my plan. The paddle from Walker Rd. to Oscar Paterson took 1 1/2 our or a little less
I paddled some what aggressively and might ad ferrying skill are are more important at low water levels than you may think. Cuts down on drag time. If you can find and hit the sweet spots which were far to few on the Flint river this week end. The Flint has one or two spots of class 2 in it . Most of it as Mr. Garland would say is boring.
One of the reasons I enjoy endurance sports like running, flat water paddling, biking is the moving meditation . If you're slow like me you get really mellow.
Now the second act of kindness and my plan. I made it to Oscar Paterson where there happens to be a small church. If I was living right some one would be at the church and I could refill my water bottle and go on.
Word of advice. I have a fair amount of experience with endurance sports, working in the heat. You can not drink too much water. You may drink too fast. And you may hear of people dying of water overdoses. There are contributing factors in those cases. On the other hand not drinking is a sure thing. Improper hydration is a contributing factor in most out door mishaps. Something I have avoided so far. My plan was to drink as much as I comfortably could and refill my bottle.
The Church was locked up tight. I checked the grounds for a water hose or spicket and came up empty. I had been drinking on schedule every 10 to 15 min and had nearly 3/4 of a liter left. But not knowing how long the run from Oscar Paterson to Winchester would take. I resigned myself to calling S.S.W. for a pick up.
Then the second act of kindness that made the day possible occurred. A family fishing and picnicking where I pulled out of the river saw me wondering around with a water bottle in my hand.
They figured I needed a refill. Not having water hey asked me if I would like a soda. The other food group. " Well yes I would and Thank you very much."
A can of Faygo a power bar and off I went. Eight more miles of paddle, paddle, bump, scrape, drag and carry. I maintained the same fluid schedule the rest of the trip. Figuring with the heat I had a half hour after the water ran out before hallucinations and disorientation set in. I was only partially correct.
I had one good drink left when I hit Winchester Rd. The hallucinations started long before. I actually imagined I was having fun.
Travel at my own pace be that what it may. ( If you factor in age & weight every excursion can be a personal best ) .. Which is hard to accomplish with two sons and their friends who we invite along. Surprising many are repeat participants. I suppose they don't tell their parents or their parent think I know what I am doing. After all would you take your own children hiking , climbing etc. unless you were competent? As much as I believe it is our responsibility to mentor the next generation. Demonstrate as well as we can by example. As a Christian you can go out in the world and participate. Es specially where the pavement ends. But traveling with a group is kind of like racing with a speed limit.
I am only slightly off subject.
Everything came to gather this Saturday afternoon. Cary has been indentured to the Boy Scouts all summer on Staff at Sequoya decided not to come home for the day. Travis is in Michigan with the Hooker family and mowed the grass before he left. Now I do need to clarify one thing. At no time has anything I have ever done or will do depend on mowing the yard. Our lawn tractor has a chronometer to keep track of the time in use. Or the time you waste cutting grass. What a monument to futility. I would buy a goat but we spend enough at the Vet with just the dog.
I did prep and apply the first coat of paint to the boys bath tub in the morning. I'll touch on tub restoration later.
I have finally put the kayak in the water and set the baseline for what I refer to as the
Double W. Paddle from Walker Lane bridge to Winchester Rd. bridge a approx. 12 mile run in 3 & 3/4 hr.
Could have been quicker with a higher flow rate. You can only drag/carry a boat so fast over wet rocks.
As much as I enjoy going solo and I realize the world is not there to be support for team Marc. or I would be a cat.
My whole afternoon hinged on a couple of acts of generosity of others. Being the narcissist I am they did not go unnoticed.
First of all my loving wife Shirley from here out known a S.S.W. "Shirley the Shuttle Wench."
S.S.W. allowed me the time to go. She will tell you I don't need her permission but more importantly she agreed to run shuttle. Upon arrival at the put in at Walker Ln. my 2 liter of water turned up missing. The weather forecast called for mid 90s and a heat factor of 100 to 105.
I 've been pounding fluids all morning and chugged a 20 ouncer of propel on the ride from the house . Being blessed with more than my share of stupid from the start. I figured I could make it to the take out at Oscar Paterson on what I had in me. Stupid and ignorance are two different things though. Even us legends in our own minds need water. The Winchester Rd. leg would have to wait. Then S.S.W. gave me her 1 liter of smart water. Now that's love. Winchester Rd. was now back on the table. I had a plan. And water. Off I went assuring S.S.W. I would call from either Oscar Paterson or Winchester depending on how good of time I made and water. She's heard this before.
Back to my plan. The paddle from Walker Rd. to Oscar Paterson took 1 1/2 our or a little less
I paddled some what aggressively and might ad ferrying skill are are more important at low water levels than you may think. Cuts down on drag time. If you can find and hit the sweet spots which were far to few on the Flint river this week end. The Flint has one or two spots of class 2 in it . Most of it as Mr. Garland would say is boring.
One of the reasons I enjoy endurance sports like running, flat water paddling, biking is the moving meditation . If you're slow like me you get really mellow.
Now the second act of kindness and my plan. I made it to Oscar Paterson where there happens to be a small church. If I was living right some one would be at the church and I could refill my water bottle and go on.
Word of advice. I have a fair amount of experience with endurance sports, working in the heat. You can not drink too much water. You may drink too fast. And you may hear of people dying of water overdoses. There are contributing factors in those cases. On the other hand not drinking is a sure thing. Improper hydration is a contributing factor in most out door mishaps. Something I have avoided so far. My plan was to drink as much as I comfortably could and refill my bottle.
The Church was locked up tight. I checked the grounds for a water hose or spicket and came up empty. I had been drinking on schedule every 10 to 15 min and had nearly 3/4 of a liter left. But not knowing how long the run from Oscar Paterson to Winchester would take. I resigned myself to calling S.S.W. for a pick up.
Then the second act of kindness that made the day possible occurred. A family fishing and picnicking where I pulled out of the river saw me wondering around with a water bottle in my hand.
They figured I needed a refill. Not having water hey asked me if I would like a soda. The other food group. " Well yes I would and Thank you very much."
A can of Faygo a power bar and off I went. Eight more miles of paddle, paddle, bump, scrape, drag and carry. I maintained the same fluid schedule the rest of the trip. Figuring with the heat I had a half hour after the water ran out before hallucinations and disorientation set in. I was only partially correct.
I had one good drink left when I hit Winchester Rd. The hallucinations started long before. I actually imagined I was having fun.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Prayer
I try to maintain a structured practice of prayer . Consistence is hard to maintain. Your life takes over and you start thinking you are in control.I need to take time to stand back,ask for help. What do I pray for. Forgiveness,Guidance,faith. Are my prayers answered. Yes they are. The most common answer : " I need to listen !"
We already have all we need to serve God and are wasting most of it. Our purpose in life is to serve god. We begin to stray when we start choosing how and when we want to serve. We want a personnel relationship with God which is possible except god is not a person. Though we try to understand God through our own limited experiences.
Our values and views are limited to this world and time. God is eternal. Gods view of our life and world is entirely different. Gods loves and puts a greater value on our life's than we do. But a vastly different and greater value . In this life we lack complete understanding. But life continues .
Its in prayer that I realize other prayers have been answered. Hind sight is at least 20-30.
We already have all we need to serve God and are wasting most of it. Our purpose in life is to serve god. We begin to stray when we start choosing how and when we want to serve. We want a personnel relationship with God which is possible except god is not a person. Though we try to understand God through our own limited experiences.
Our values and views are limited to this world and time. God is eternal. Gods view of our life and world is entirely different. Gods loves and puts a greater value on our life's than we do. But a vastly different and greater value . In this life we lack complete understanding. But life continues .
Its in prayer that I realize other prayers have been answered. Hind sight is at least 20-30.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Here we go
This is a test run. Fiqures I would not have the time or a spare thought this morning.Not bad for something years in the making
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