It all started innocently enough; one guy entering a crowded restaurant, hoisting something resembling a walkie-talkie straight out of Sands of Iwo Jima, and a personal assistant, hired for no other purpose than to lug around the accompanying attaché and manage the mechanical train like a bride on her wedding day, requesting a table for 'three'. And we all looked on in wonder, and just new this man was a spy; so mysterious as he glided across the room, rocking his Ray-Ban Aviators and waiting while said assistant conducted a series of maneuvers in an effort to reach the assigned table in time to pull out a chair for this modern day Christopher Marlowe (look it up). Little did we know, he was simply a summer intern for Cellular One, the only known carrier at the time, checking the reception from inside the selected dining establishment, to the nearest major intersection, where his counter part waited patiently, the equivalent of a NASA regulation satellite dish duct taped to the back of his rental moped.
And what about the sighting of the first ever 'beeper' guy, to this point merely urban legend, born out of some hallucinogenic half-way house, on the campus of a university in Corvallis. You see him limping down the street wearing what can only be described as a line worker's industrial strength tool belt, which housed a box-like device the size of Webster's latest voluminous edition. And when Sasquatch received an alert? It brought the thunder like Wyatt Earp galloping across the dusty plains in search of a band of red sashes.
So, how on earth did we regress from this simple experimental concept, that never had a chance because of cost factors and technological deficiencies, to every man, woman and child on every street corner owning a portable device, often times at the expense of an honest meal? It didn't happen overnight and it was a process. Think about it. We've gone from a society of guys wearing pagers on every belt loop like a hippy selling jell-o shots at a rave party, to these petite, self contained, bite sized, touch screen computers, that do everything but brush our teeth and use the loo for us. At this rate, can that really be too far behind? And have you ever seen a more neurotic industry? We've gone from the large flip down, to the tiny flip up; from the plain touch tone, to the two-way. We've had the car phone, the hands free phone, the razr, the blackberry, the Bluetooth, the first generation 'smart' phone with the slide out Qwerty keyboard; ooh...ahh. How did we get here? How did we become so self reliant on technology, a place where our bodies and minds once ruled? How did we allow ourselves to become so dysfunctionally, functional?
You know, I turned down a job about 14 years ago, because I was simply too closed minded to accept what the carrier at the time, was selling me. The cellular age is going to take over the world. No way. One day, the majority of our business will be conducted with our phones. Impossible. One day, everyone will be able to afford the services that are widely reserved for the working professional today. Some may even receive these services for free. It's coming, watch and see. Thank you for your time. And, here we are. We are on the verge of becoming a virtual paperless society, all of our business conducted via apps and email. And textbooks? We have a generation growing up before us that may never know what a textbook is, but will instead read about it in their History of the World I, e-book, the required reading manuscript at colleges and universities everywhere, available in the iTunes Store.
We are there, in the age I never believed would, let alone could, sustain itself. We have wi-fi and hot spots, 4g and LTE; online degrees and virtual book clubs, cooking classes and sporting arenas. We are wholly dependent on the latest and greatest to achieve relevance and viability, to stay ahead and move forward. But, at what cost? Gone are the days of the family dinner, or drive where, to contact someone, we waited until we arrived back home. Progressive euchre now consists of switching laptops with your mate in the comfort of your own homes. Rooting for your favorite team requires little more effort than surfing for the one of fifty channels they may be playing on, because they are on, allowing for the 'convenience' of avoiding crowds, paying exorbitant parking fees, oh...and creating memories.
You have to be left to wonder what's next? I can assure you of one thing: I'm a believer that it can, and will, happen, whatever that next chapter may be. So, while I acknowledge, and conform to the notion that we must accept these "advances" as a necessary evil, I do so begrudgingly. And while I cling to the memory of a simpler time, I accept it solely as that; a memory. And yes, I do believe that 'smart' phone makes you look stupid; but, no more stupid than me.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Dear God...I Demand An Explanation
My topic today will inspire some to wonder, some to question and some to condemn; me, for the rant I'm about to unleash, but you know what? I don't care. Plain and simple. I'm sick and tired of the nonsense and I want answers. And you know what? I'm going to get them. If not now, later. I can wait because this has been burning a hole in my soul for years. Somehow, some way, some day, GOD, you will tell me why; why very bad things continue to happen to good and, many times, innocent people. Last evening, a 3 year-old girl was shot and killed by a stray bullet, through the side of her house, as she was watching cartoons before bed...
We get it. You issued a directive not to eat the apple. We, created in Your image, couldn't resist. This made you angry, beyond belief, and now generations have paid for our 'human' error, with the punch line to your sadistic sense of humor. The irony? The 'apple' is now recognized as a viable method for holding physicians at bay. Are we to deduce from this logic that doctors are the devil and they want us to partake for an entirely different set of logical, or illogical, reasons? On the city's east side, a 5 year-old pedestrian was struck and killed by a hit and run motorist this afternoon. There were no witnesses...
Before I am labeled a blaspheming malcontent, and people begin hurling scriptures, or entire Bibles at me, sit back, examine and reflect on what I'm asking, or questioning. What exactly is the threshold of what we are able to handle? What is the ceiling? Because I see a lot of people in our society suffering every day, and many of them can't see the light, or part the seas, or muddle through the mire of life to discover this answer on their own. And, for many of them, it's already too late. Or, is this the part where our compassionate God lobs it back into our court and says, in an effusive manner, 'You've got this. Trust me.'? Tragedy today, when a bus carrying a load of passengers returning from church camp, overturned killing a youth pastor, his wife and their unborn child. Their 2 year-old son survived...
Here's an idea...let me be the punch line. I've lived a full life. If You have decided this is the course human life must take, I'll be the first in line. Or, why not the drunk with total disregard for his life, or that of anyone else? Obviously, he's already checked out; thrown in the towel. Take him, or her. But, that wouldn't be fair. How would we ever be made to pay for the SIN of that fateful day, when we took the bite and felt the shame of our nakedness. By the way, was this literal, or figurative nakedness, because it's all a little fuzzy to me? Take us, but STOP with the innocent and the good; the children. Are you really that short on angels these days? Sad news out of (insert city) today, when (insert name), the vivacious, cheerful 9 year-old, who took the country by storm with their positive outlook on this cruel, evil life, succumbed to the (insert horrifying, unimaginable disease), which had afflicted them for most of their brief childhood...
Maybe this is the point. We, as adults in society, the mentors of tomorrow's leaders, need to be taught an invaluable lesson ourselves; to be led. And, who better to provoke thought, or emotion, or action, than children? It sucks for us when these things happen to the good, or innocent, people around us, but what if that's merely a result of our being left behind? Perhaps these innocents had more to share, or get, out of this life in a brief period, than an entire lifetime of confusion and wonder. That, and they don't need saving; we do. I can't prove this to be fact, but it's the only thing that makes sense and, believe me, I will find out one day. But for now, I am angry, and hurt, and scared; and that's okay. God doesn't expect us to be perfect, but He does expect us to try; to make an honest effort at finding answers and question logic...and mourn. If we accepted these tragedies at face value, what would be the point in that? Today, all over the world, another angel has gained their wings...
Until tomorrow,
Scott
We get it. You issued a directive not to eat the apple. We, created in Your image, couldn't resist. This made you angry, beyond belief, and now generations have paid for our 'human' error, with the punch line to your sadistic sense of humor. The irony? The 'apple' is now recognized as a viable method for holding physicians at bay. Are we to deduce from this logic that doctors are the devil and they want us to partake for an entirely different set of logical, or illogical, reasons? On the city's east side, a 5 year-old pedestrian was struck and killed by a hit and run motorist this afternoon. There were no witnesses...
Before I am labeled a blaspheming malcontent, and people begin hurling scriptures, or entire Bibles at me, sit back, examine and reflect on what I'm asking, or questioning. What exactly is the threshold of what we are able to handle? What is the ceiling? Because I see a lot of people in our society suffering every day, and many of them can't see the light, or part the seas, or muddle through the mire of life to discover this answer on their own. And, for many of them, it's already too late. Or, is this the part where our compassionate God lobs it back into our court and says, in an effusive manner, 'You've got this. Trust me.'? Tragedy today, when a bus carrying a load of passengers returning from church camp, overturned killing a youth pastor, his wife and their unborn child. Their 2 year-old son survived...
Here's an idea...let me be the punch line. I've lived a full life. If You have decided this is the course human life must take, I'll be the first in line. Or, why not the drunk with total disregard for his life, or that of anyone else? Obviously, he's already checked out; thrown in the towel. Take him, or her. But, that wouldn't be fair. How would we ever be made to pay for the SIN of that fateful day, when we took the bite and felt the shame of our nakedness. By the way, was this literal, or figurative nakedness, because it's all a little fuzzy to me? Take us, but STOP with the innocent and the good; the children. Are you really that short on angels these days? Sad news out of (insert city) today, when (insert name), the vivacious, cheerful 9 year-old, who took the country by storm with their positive outlook on this cruel, evil life, succumbed to the (insert horrifying, unimaginable disease), which had afflicted them for most of their brief childhood...
Maybe this is the point. We, as adults in society, the mentors of tomorrow's leaders, need to be taught an invaluable lesson ourselves; to be led. And, who better to provoke thought, or emotion, or action, than children? It sucks for us when these things happen to the good, or innocent, people around us, but what if that's merely a result of our being left behind? Perhaps these innocents had more to share, or get, out of this life in a brief period, than an entire lifetime of confusion and wonder. That, and they don't need saving; we do. I can't prove this to be fact, but it's the only thing that makes sense and, believe me, I will find out one day. But for now, I am angry, and hurt, and scared; and that's okay. God doesn't expect us to be perfect, but He does expect us to try; to make an honest effort at finding answers and question logic...and mourn. If we accepted these tragedies at face value, what would be the point in that? Today, all over the world, another angel has gained their wings...
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Friday, July 26, 2013
He's Coming To America...TODAY!
After much self-deliberation, and with astute profoundness, or profound astuteness (whichever the case), I have decided to give you a break from me today and, instead, allow you the pleasure of the voice of a 2 year-old, just "home" to the states, after spending the first years of his life in an orphanage. Well, not his voice perhaps. He's Haitian, and as such, has primarily been exposed to Creole as his first language. If he could have spoken English at the time, I would imagine this is what his 'voice' might sound like, on this, the 9th anniversary of Makenley Parker Louissaint Deuschle's, 'Gotcha Day'.
Enjoy this letter to his new friends and family, dated July 26, 2004...
Hi everyone-
Greetings..from..AMERICA! I must say it's great to finally be here and meet some of the crazy people that have been asking me when I'm coming home. Before, I didn't know what home was, but now I'm starting to understand. Home is a big place where everyone has their own room, their own toys and we get to eat eggs out of a bowl with our own spoon, like big boys. Oh yeah, home is also where there are lots of doggies and a kitty. Kitty doesn't bother me too much, but the puppies are noisy. If they don't watch it, I'm going to bonk them on the nose. Just ask mommy about that one! Anyway...you came to hear about yesterday, so I'll do my bestest to remember (I'm a little bit tired from everything they put me through)...
To start everything off right, I woke up mommy and daddy at 3:30 in the morning; they were a little bit grumpy, hehe. Then I cried a little, faked like I was asleep, cried some more, went potty for mommy, got changed and climbed on her back, ready for the day...
They took me to breakfast, where I mainly played with the room key while she and daddy fussed some more about how tired they were and how long the day was gonna be. It was a hoot! The last thing I remember about that was, they said they were praying I'd be good on the plane, because I was up so early. I didn't really know what a plane was, so I kinda ignored it, but in the back of my mind I was thinking, 'We'll see'...
After breakfast, we met uncle Julma and cousin Junior. They told my daddy, 'We must go', so they had to pack very fast (mommy was not pleased) to leave for the airport. They fussed a little more in the room while they got everything together, and I just sat there wondering, 'Who are the babies here?' Nobody told me it was going to be this much fun just to watch...
Next, we went to the airport and had to go in lines. A LOT of guys took all the luggage from daddy and said they were there to help. They helped him, alright; helped him separate himself from his money. I didn't mind too much because, again, I don't even know what money is. Daddy was nervous, though, because mommy gave him something called, the 'evil eye'. This sounded much worse than anything you could ever catch in Haiti, where I'm from...
So we went through a line, where a really big man looked at us funny and asked my parents if I was theirs, and if they really wanted to do this (at least that was my interpretation). They insisted that I was, and they did, and he finally let us go. We waited a little while and then we went outside and walked up a 'mountain' and got in this really big machine. That's when they finally told me, this was a plane...
The end.
Makenley
Enjoy this letter to his new friends and family, dated July 26, 2004...
Hi everyone-
Greetings..from..AMERICA! I must say it's great to finally be here and meet some of the crazy people that have been asking me when I'm coming home. Before, I didn't know what home was, but now I'm starting to understand. Home is a big place where everyone has their own room, their own toys and we get to eat eggs out of a bowl with our own spoon, like big boys. Oh yeah, home is also where there are lots of doggies and a kitty. Kitty doesn't bother me too much, but the puppies are noisy. If they don't watch it, I'm going to bonk them on the nose. Just ask mommy about that one! Anyway...you came to hear about yesterday, so I'll do my bestest to remember (I'm a little bit tired from everything they put me through)...
To start everything off right, I woke up mommy and daddy at 3:30 in the morning; they were a little bit grumpy, hehe. Then I cried a little, faked like I was asleep, cried some more, went potty for mommy, got changed and climbed on her back, ready for the day...
They took me to breakfast, where I mainly played with the room key while she and daddy fussed some more about how tired they were and how long the day was gonna be. It was a hoot! The last thing I remember about that was, they said they were praying I'd be good on the plane, because I was up so early. I didn't really know what a plane was, so I kinda ignored it, but in the back of my mind I was thinking, 'We'll see'...
After breakfast, we met uncle Julma and cousin Junior. They told my daddy, 'We must go', so they had to pack very fast (mommy was not pleased) to leave for the airport. They fussed a little more in the room while they got everything together, and I just sat there wondering, 'Who are the babies here?' Nobody told me it was going to be this much fun just to watch...
Next, we went to the airport and had to go in lines. A LOT of guys took all the luggage from daddy and said they were there to help. They helped him, alright; helped him separate himself from his money. I didn't mind too much because, again, I don't even know what money is. Daddy was nervous, though, because mommy gave him something called, the 'evil eye'. This sounded much worse than anything you could ever catch in Haiti, where I'm from...
So we went through a line, where a really big man looked at us funny and asked my parents if I was theirs, and if they really wanted to do this (at least that was my interpretation). They insisted that I was, and they did, and he finally let us go. We waited a little while and then we went outside and walked up a 'mountain' and got in this really big machine. That's when they finally told me, this was a plane...
I don't know if any of you have ever been on a plane, but they're HUGANTIC! There were a lot of people, and I didn't know very many of them. I was sorta nervous, but I looked up and saw mommy and daddy, and felt A LOT better. I didn't know where they were taking me, but I didn't care, because they were with me...
Ok, so flying is fun. I really like taking off. It's fun watching everything get tiny, like ants; and the turbulence is great! Every time we bounced in the plane, I looked at daddy and we shared a laugh. Aunties, Lisa and Nancy, also entertained me and kept me laughing all the way to Miami (whatever that is). Daddy said it was good, so I went with it. Oh yeah, and I went potty on mommy's leg. She was tired and not very happy about it...
Miami was fun for me. I got to see mommy and daddy run around, acting silly again. First, they had to walk a really long way. Mommy took me in to change (and dry off) and we walked a lot more, to the passport place. The lines were kinda long, but the lady eventually took our passports and put little stamps on them, and smiled at me. She was nice. I liked her. Next, we waited for a man to take us in the immigration room (this is when daddy started looking at his watch). We didn't wait long, and when we went in the room, there were only three other people waiting, for to be citizens. Auntie Lisa told my parents we were lucky, because it was usually full. Daddy looked at his watch again. It only took about 20 minutes in there and then we had to walk a lot again, to go find our luggage. In Miami, they make you get your luggage and walk some more and then give it to somebody else, so they can put it in the new plane. I thought this was dumb. They must be lazy in Miami...
After we did that, daddy stopped to get mommy a sandwich at Burger King. I asked daddy for a Happy Meal and he said, "Wrong place"; then he...e-v-e-r-y-b-o-d-y...LOOKED AT HIS WATCH, AGAIN! Mommy ate really fast before we went to the X-ray machine, and I heard her tell daddy she didn't feel very good, because it was too fast for her to eat. Then, we put everything on the belt and they frisked mommy. Uh oh. She was REALLY mad about this. We men just looked at each other and rolled our eyes. Do they really think I'm a 2 year-old terrorizer? I heard daddy mumble something like, "They have no idea". We finally got to our gate and the nice man told us the flight was overbooked and we were bumped. Noooo, he didn't. Hehe. He actually changed our seat places, so we could all sit together. Then we started to come to Indiapolis...
When we got on this plane, I got tired. I started to cry, but mommy had daddy make me a 'secret bottle' (do they not think I can hear?), while she distracted me by making me do silly things, like wave to the man outside with the little orange sticks. I'm almost 2, so I obliged. We took off and it was still fun for a little while, but then I needed a nap. They had kept me up for a really long time, so I slept the whole way. Right before I woke up, I went potty on mommy's other leg (true story), and I saw her use the evil eye on daddy again; she didn't know I was awake. She changed me right there on the plane, but I don't think too many people noticed, because only a few turned around to sniff. She was very fast, I was clean, we were landing AND daddy stopped looking at his watch. Oh yeah, a few ladies talked to mommy on the plane and told her how lucky she was that I slept the whole time. Mommy said, "I know", but I didn't tell her I was good all day because I was so happy she took me to Indiapolis with her and daddy. That's going to always be my secret...
When we got to the terminal, nobody was happy to see us. What I mean is, we were 30 minutes early, so nobody was there. It was kinda anti-climatic, if you ask me. Here I was, fresh in from another country, I was good all day and nobody even wanted to see me? Geesh! I think mommy and daddy were ok, though, because I heard them finally exhale. Daddy must have been loud though, because he made some people look up and they started to scream. They told me it was a good scream, though; because they were happy to see me. It was mamaw and pappy and, another aunt, Brenda. Then, all of my new friends started to come, and they all brought me toys; it was a lot of fun. I met my other mamaw and pappy (how lucky am I? I have two!). They waited for me where the bags come from. I guess they didn't know they could just go see me upstairs, but I finally got to see them and my uncles, and then we all went to eat some food. I don't remember too much after that, because I got very sleepy...
All I know is, it was a very good day, and I was a good boy. I love all my new families and friends, and I'm so happy to be 'home' with my mommy and daddy...forever. Thank you.
The end.
Makenley
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Be Careful What You Wish For...You May Not Live To See It
How many people have thought of one thing they're thankful for today; just one? If you can raise your hand, or answer, "Here!", then two things are true of your response: 1) You are in the minority and 2) You have more than likely been handed a dose of perspective, and been forced to drink. Because, as a rule in society, we take nearly everything about our lives for granted, every..single..day.
Of course, there are factors that change this thoughtless mindset from time to time, including catastrophic world or local events, such as tornadoes, tsunamis, plane crashes, or terrorist actions. We'll dutifully rally around the select tragedy, hold hands, sing Kumbaya and give our kids a little extra squeeze, or tussle the hair of our neighbor's offspring before running back inside our homes, or local shelters, to catch the second half of, Celebrity Game Night. Often times it requires a terminal affliction to a friend or family member to wake us from our comas of self-righteousness. Why is this true and what can impact your life, so intensely that you count each and every blessing, even if it is for a brief moment in time?
I grew up, like so many others, in my own bubble of existence for a large portion of my youth and adult life. I found a particular setting inside my comfort zone and did not venture too far left, or too far right, lest I be left vulnerable to, gasp, the Big Bad WORLD. Things were safe inside my bubble and that's just the way I liked it. I could do the things I wanted to do, make the plans I wanted make and not worry about anything else, because nothing could affect me. No harm could ever come to me, or my friends, or family. I was in-VINCE-able! The first time I ventured beyond the mental solitude of my spherical naiveté was when I attended college and that was a pin-prick-letting-loose-a-slow-steady-stream-of-air experience, although it seemed much more daunting at the time. It was a time that was impactful from an adolescent standpoint, but it certainly didn't make me appreciate things any more, or any less. I was eighteen, on my own and prepared to conquer anything that stood in my way. No, my bubble bursting-wrap-around-your-face experience came on our first trip to Haiti, when we were immersed in the emotional and bureaucratic nightmare of bringing home our eldest child.
From the moment we stepped off the plane it was an unmistakable impression, one of desperation and need. But there was something else very peculiar that stood out, as well. It was a propensity for survival and a celebration of life, regardless of the circumstances; the realization that these people were dealt a hand they did not ask for, or deserve, but were willing to play out, due to the magnitude of their character and prideful heritage, long instilled in them from generations of turmoil and the most severe abuse and neglect imaginable. And what passed as middle class living in this beautiful country, would make the ghettos in America look like a poorly conceived SNL skit. It was impossible to fathom and I remember thinking, vividly, 'This is something every American citizen should be required to endure and experience'. I came home a different man. No longer would I be wrapped in the cloak of my material prison, but instead would live in the virtue of service, impacting the lives of those less fortunate than me and enacting change through action, instead of words. And, I did. And, it was the most fulfilling month of my entire life.
It was funny how the cycle played out, going from my freshly minted impressions of our stupid, jaded society, to slowly and imperceptibly being dragged right back in. Most literally, I went from appreciating everything about my life and those closest to me, to a slow, slippery, regression back to the mindset of people I looked down on, despised and who just didn't get it. I allowed myself to be assimilated back to the American way of thinking, and 'acting', and it made me sick. But, I allowed myself to reconstruct a new bubble and fall back in line, dutifully, ironically enough, because honestly, it was too much work and required too much dedication and conviction to behave in an honorable, or idealistic manner.
Our fatalistic mindset continues to be our downfall. We refuse to allow anything to infiltrate our daily lives, until it is often times, too late. This is a glaring flaw in the character of our country, or what's left of it. We shuffle through life, rarely giving thought to the question, 'What if'? What if it is all taken away tomorrow? What if I lose a limb, or become paralyzed in a horrific accident? What if a close friend is told they have 6 months to live in the course of a routine physical, or a family member perishes at the hand of a drunk driver? What has it all been worth then, or have we even bothered to give it a moments' consideration? All of our plans, and hopes and dreams taken away, literally in the blink of an eye. This is real. This is life. I mean, do you really think, the young man standing in the shower that morning, preparing for his second week of training in his new career, ever gave a passing thought to that semi hitting a patch of black ice, sending it careening into the side of the vehicle he was traveling in, causing it to lose control and crash, killing him?!? Or, what about the man who went to his doctor because he didn't feel quite right, and was told he had maybe 30 days to live...and survived 2 weeks?
It's unconscionable that we don't hold our lives, and the lives of others, in higher regard on a daily basis. It's unimaginable that we allow people to suffer all around us, while we prosper, and it's unforgivable that we don't tell the individuals who mean the most to us and have impacted our lives immeasurably, that we love them; often. Because, while it's acceptable, and expected, that we should have goals for the future, we need to live now and 'seize the day'. If you don't believe me, ask some of my friends and family. After all, you've just been introduced.
Until tomorrow(?),
Scott
I grew up, like so many others, in my own bubble of existence for a large portion of my youth and adult life. I found a particular setting inside my comfort zone and did not venture too far left, or too far right, lest I be left vulnerable to, gasp, the Big Bad WORLD. Things were safe inside my bubble and that's just the way I liked it. I could do the things I wanted to do, make the plans I wanted make and not worry about anything else, because nothing could affect me. No harm could ever come to me, or my friends, or family. I was in-VINCE-able! The first time I ventured beyond the mental solitude of my spherical naiveté was when I attended college and that was a pin-prick-letting-loose-a-slow-steady-stream-of-air experience, although it seemed much more daunting at the time. It was a time that was impactful from an adolescent standpoint, but it certainly didn't make me appreciate things any more, or any less. I was eighteen, on my own and prepared to conquer anything that stood in my way. No, my bubble bursting-wrap-around-your-face experience came on our first trip to Haiti, when we were immersed in the emotional and bureaucratic nightmare of bringing home our eldest child.
From the moment we stepped off the plane it was an unmistakable impression, one of desperation and need. But there was something else very peculiar that stood out, as well. It was a propensity for survival and a celebration of life, regardless of the circumstances; the realization that these people were dealt a hand they did not ask for, or deserve, but were willing to play out, due to the magnitude of their character and prideful heritage, long instilled in them from generations of turmoil and the most severe abuse and neglect imaginable. And what passed as middle class living in this beautiful country, would make the ghettos in America look like a poorly conceived SNL skit. It was impossible to fathom and I remember thinking, vividly, 'This is something every American citizen should be required to endure and experience'. I came home a different man. No longer would I be wrapped in the cloak of my material prison, but instead would live in the virtue of service, impacting the lives of those less fortunate than me and enacting change through action, instead of words. And, I did. And, it was the most fulfilling month of my entire life.
It was funny how the cycle played out, going from my freshly minted impressions of our stupid, jaded society, to slowly and imperceptibly being dragged right back in. Most literally, I went from appreciating everything about my life and those closest to me, to a slow, slippery, regression back to the mindset of people I looked down on, despised and who just didn't get it. I allowed myself to be assimilated back to the American way of thinking, and 'acting', and it made me sick. But, I allowed myself to reconstruct a new bubble and fall back in line, dutifully, ironically enough, because honestly, it was too much work and required too much dedication and conviction to behave in an honorable, or idealistic manner.
Our fatalistic mindset continues to be our downfall. We refuse to allow anything to infiltrate our daily lives, until it is often times, too late. This is a glaring flaw in the character of our country, or what's left of it. We shuffle through life, rarely giving thought to the question, 'What if'? What if it is all taken away tomorrow? What if I lose a limb, or become paralyzed in a horrific accident? What if a close friend is told they have 6 months to live in the course of a routine physical, or a family member perishes at the hand of a drunk driver? What has it all been worth then, or have we even bothered to give it a moments' consideration? All of our plans, and hopes and dreams taken away, literally in the blink of an eye. This is real. This is life. I mean, do you really think, the young man standing in the shower that morning, preparing for his second week of training in his new career, ever gave a passing thought to that semi hitting a patch of black ice, sending it careening into the side of the vehicle he was traveling in, causing it to lose control and crash, killing him?!? Or, what about the man who went to his doctor because he didn't feel quite right, and was told he had maybe 30 days to live...and survived 2 weeks?
It's unconscionable that we don't hold our lives, and the lives of others, in higher regard on a daily basis. It's unimaginable that we allow people to suffer all around us, while we prosper, and it's unforgivable that we don't tell the individuals who mean the most to us and have impacted our lives immeasurably, that we love them; often. Because, while it's acceptable, and expected, that we should have goals for the future, we need to live now and 'seize the day'. If you don't believe me, ask some of my friends and family. After all, you've just been introduced.
Until tomorrow(?),
Scott
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Each Day 370,000 Children Are Born All Over The World....And Most Of Them Have Names
Why? Why are we as a society so fascinated by entertainers and royalty having babies? Did they create the concept? I mean, I just assumed people have been making babies for as long as the earth has been round (or flat, if you're on that side of the argument). What is it, beyond sheer stupidity, that keeps us glued to the television, as if our very lives depended on remaining mindless statues until we know, for certain, that everything is going to be a okay with the latest tabloid fascination? And have you seen some of these children? I actually feel sympathy for their lot in life, and the certain abuse they will suffer at the hand of the ugly tree; that is, until I gaze, in wonder, at all the zeros in their bank accounts.
And the names...H-O-L-Y COW. Are you *bleeping* kidding me? Here's a brief sampling: Birdie & Cricket, North, Apple, Blue Ivy, Ace (ok, I'll give half a point for effort), Tennessee, Olive (still on the reservation), Rainbow, Breeze, Maple, Moroccan, Kal-El, Jermajesty (I'm not making these up), Pilot Inspektor, Moxie Crimefighter and, possibly my favorite name ever...Antonio (so far, so good) Kamakanaalohamankalani. I don't even know what else to write, I'm so dumbfounded. And, apparently the newest infant celeb, er, royal, to grace our presence, is so special he doesn't even warrant a name. There's an idea; how about, Prince Hewhoshallremainnameless? I just don't understand. Do these people lie awake at night dreaming up ways to out-dumb the next guy? Do they really believe these are colorful, creative and practical names? Names that their namesake (most of them) will be proud to own when they're 65, let alone 10, years old? Sounds more like somebody lost a dare at the latest self-indulgent award show after party, or discovery of the registration sheet for Celebrity Rehab, season 35 if you ask me...and I know you did.
What is this magnetizing, polarizing grip these people have over us? Most of whom are not famous for anything relevant, but rather for being, well, famous. Perhaps it's the romance that keeps us clamoring like a pack of wild dogs, wrestling over a steak bone. We've invested so much of ourselves financially and emotionally, bankrolling the 401k's of these "artists" and figure heads, that this is our right, to 'enjoy' the eccentricities of these mostly talentless egomaniacs. It's sad, really, that our lives are so seemingly empty, that we have to rely on the whimsy of these millionaire fools to fill our souls. Or, is it just as simple as there being so much sadness, hate, mean-spiritedness, hopelessness and despair in the world, that this gives us an outlet, a place to escape to; one where no one can hurt us and we can revel in the fantasy that is, or the nightmare that may become, their lives?
Whatever the reason, it seems important to us as a society. So much so, that we camp out for days on end and pay large bounties, to catch a glimpse, the first glimpse, at 'glory'. What will this strange, messed up, wonderful world have in store for Prince What's His Name? Only time, and perhaps his parents, will tell.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
And the names...H-O-L-Y COW. Are you *bleeping* kidding me? Here's a brief sampling: Birdie & Cricket, North, Apple, Blue Ivy, Ace (ok, I'll give half a point for effort), Tennessee, Olive (still on the reservation), Rainbow, Breeze, Maple, Moroccan, Kal-El, Jermajesty (I'm not making these up), Pilot Inspektor, Moxie Crimefighter and, possibly my favorite name ever...Antonio (so far, so good) Kamakanaalohamankalani. I don't even know what else to write, I'm so dumbfounded. And, apparently the newest infant celeb, er, royal, to grace our presence, is so special he doesn't even warrant a name. There's an idea; how about, Prince Hewhoshallremainnameless? I just don't understand. Do these people lie awake at night dreaming up ways to out-dumb the next guy? Do they really believe these are colorful, creative and practical names? Names that their namesake (most of them) will be proud to own when they're 65, let alone 10, years old? Sounds more like somebody lost a dare at the latest self-indulgent award show after party, or discovery of the registration sheet for Celebrity Rehab, season 35 if you ask me...and I know you did.
What is this magnetizing, polarizing grip these people have over us? Most of whom are not famous for anything relevant, but rather for being, well, famous. Perhaps it's the romance that keeps us clamoring like a pack of wild dogs, wrestling over a steak bone. We've invested so much of ourselves financially and emotionally, bankrolling the 401k's of these "artists" and figure heads, that this is our right, to 'enjoy' the eccentricities of these mostly talentless egomaniacs. It's sad, really, that our lives are so seemingly empty, that we have to rely on the whimsy of these millionaire fools to fill our souls. Or, is it just as simple as there being so much sadness, hate, mean-spiritedness, hopelessness and despair in the world, that this gives us an outlet, a place to escape to; one where no one can hurt us and we can revel in the fantasy that is, or the nightmare that may become, their lives?
Whatever the reason, it seems important to us as a society. So much so, that we camp out for days on end and pay large bounties, to catch a glimpse, the first glimpse, at 'glory'. What will this strange, messed up, wonderful world have in store for Prince What's His Name? Only time, and perhaps his parents, will tell.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh...Yeah, Right!
I achieved a personal milestone today, that I didn't know could ever be possible, when I dropped off my oldest son, with his grandmother, to attend yoga camp. When talk initially surfaced last summer, of this opportunity taking place, I sort of blew it off with an, 'Okay, sure, whatever you say', type of attitude, but over the course of that year, it never went away. The time got closer and closer, and he kept talking about how excited he was to go until, BAM!, here we are, and he's on his way. How could this happen? How could I let it happen? This is completely irresponsible of me to think this is something he can handle. I mean, come on, it's an 8 hour car ride; he can't possibly handle that. And then what happens when he shows up and has no friends, and won't talk to anyone, and gets ignored, and wants to come home in the first five minutes. This can't possibly work. But what if it can...
My wife accused me the other day of being a "Helicopter Parent", a phrase I'd never heard before, and couldn't wrap my head around, until I stopped to think about what it is exactly that a helicopter does...hover. Perhaps I might have been a little quicker on the draw had she instead, called me a 'UFO Parent'. But, I'm really not 'that guy'; at least not with my other kids. With this one, though, it's different. It's always been different. I can't really explain the logic in it. It could be the fact that he's our first, our guinea pig of parenting. How would you manage an entire overhaul of your life, having a 2 year-old come home with you one day, you with absolutely zero parenting experience, or skill, and more than likely, no business being responsible for another human life, especially a little one? But, this was our reality. It was everything we'd hoped for and every single thing we'd feared. So, we dug in and we did our best and we fought fiercely because we didn't know what else to do. And you know what? He survived. And he thrived, which wasn't always a foregone conclusion. I'm sure that's some of why I'm a neurotic basket case with him. Possibly. More than likely though, it's about the fact that he is afflicted with a condition he's had since birth, Schizencephaly. Sounds impressive, right? It's really not. It's really nothing more than a dirty, rotten, fancy name for a more familiar condition, to you and me: Cerebral Palsy.
I am who I am with him because he needs me. He can't do this on his own. He's helpless, people won't 'get' him, he's not like everybody else, he's going to struggle! AND? So what? So what if he does fall down? Has he ever not gotten up? So what if he does struggle? Has he ever not tried harder? So what if people don't get him? That's a them problem, not a he problem. Besides, he does have you, and everybody else in his life to help, but he doesn't always need you.
This is where I struggle, as a dad, where I tend to 'hover', if you will. Too often I fail to remember this is the same child that defied the logic of the neurologist who said he may never develop beyond the mentality of the 2 year-old that we brought home that day. This is the same child whose preschool teacher, Ms. Johnson, challenged us to keep him in general education classes, because he was bright and could succeed, and has become an A/B Honor Roll student. This is the same child who developed a love of basketball and plays in his school league, and shoots, and led his team in steals and gets intense and is a great teammate, another assistant for me on the sideline. So, why is this different? I don't know, it just is...
I'm a pretty smart guy, I get it. I just don't like to admit it. No, I'm not afraid he'll fail miserably and want to come running home for the first time in his life. I'm afraid he won't. I'm afraid of him growing up and losing his dependence on me. I'm afraid of this experience fulfilling a space in his heart and mind that only I used to occupy. I'm afraid this might ultimately be his crossing over into young adulthood; that while this is an incredible opportunity for him to gain independence that he will so desperately need in the years to come, somehow it's going to leave an incredible void in my life. That, for all the things we've fought for, and prayed for, and cheered for and cried for, I don't want him to not need me. I don't want for him to say to me, ever again, "It's okay, dad. I got this." I'm afraid that I'm not ready for 'this'; for camp.
Here's to truly hoping he has the week of his life; that he experiences everything we want, and dont necessarily want, him to experience. Here's to my brave, determined, little guy proving everybody wrong, again. Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh...somehow I don't believe this is going to be a problem. At least not for him.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
My wife accused me the other day of being a "Helicopter Parent", a phrase I'd never heard before, and couldn't wrap my head around, until I stopped to think about what it is exactly that a helicopter does...hover. Perhaps I might have been a little quicker on the draw had she instead, called me a 'UFO Parent'. But, I'm really not 'that guy'; at least not with my other kids. With this one, though, it's different. It's always been different. I can't really explain the logic in it. It could be the fact that he's our first, our guinea pig of parenting. How would you manage an entire overhaul of your life, having a 2 year-old come home with you one day, you with absolutely zero parenting experience, or skill, and more than likely, no business being responsible for another human life, especially a little one? But, this was our reality. It was everything we'd hoped for and every single thing we'd feared. So, we dug in and we did our best and we fought fiercely because we didn't know what else to do. And you know what? He survived. And he thrived, which wasn't always a foregone conclusion. I'm sure that's some of why I'm a neurotic basket case with him. Possibly. More than likely though, it's about the fact that he is afflicted with a condition he's had since birth, Schizencephaly. Sounds impressive, right? It's really not. It's really nothing more than a dirty, rotten, fancy name for a more familiar condition, to you and me: Cerebral Palsy.
I am who I am with him because he needs me. He can't do this on his own. He's helpless, people won't 'get' him, he's not like everybody else, he's going to struggle! AND? So what? So what if he does fall down? Has he ever not gotten up? So what if he does struggle? Has he ever not tried harder? So what if people don't get him? That's a them problem, not a he problem. Besides, he does have you, and everybody else in his life to help, but he doesn't always need you.
This is where I struggle, as a dad, where I tend to 'hover', if you will. Too often I fail to remember this is the same child that defied the logic of the neurologist who said he may never develop beyond the mentality of the 2 year-old that we brought home that day. This is the same child whose preschool teacher, Ms. Johnson, challenged us to keep him in general education classes, because he was bright and could succeed, and has become an A/B Honor Roll student. This is the same child who developed a love of basketball and plays in his school league, and shoots, and led his team in steals and gets intense and is a great teammate, another assistant for me on the sideline. So, why is this different? I don't know, it just is...
I'm a pretty smart guy, I get it. I just don't like to admit it. No, I'm not afraid he'll fail miserably and want to come running home for the first time in his life. I'm afraid he won't. I'm afraid of him growing up and losing his dependence on me. I'm afraid of this experience fulfilling a space in his heart and mind that only I used to occupy. I'm afraid this might ultimately be his crossing over into young adulthood; that while this is an incredible opportunity for him to gain independence that he will so desperately need in the years to come, somehow it's going to leave an incredible void in my life. That, for all the things we've fought for, and prayed for, and cheered for and cried for, I don't want him to not need me. I don't want for him to say to me, ever again, "It's okay, dad. I got this." I'm afraid that I'm not ready for 'this'; for camp.
Here's to truly hoping he has the week of his life; that he experiences everything we want, and dont necessarily want, him to experience. Here's to my brave, determined, little guy proving everybody wrong, again. Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh...somehow I don't believe this is going to be a problem. At least not for him.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Thanks For The Sho, Mo
If you are a baseball fan, last night was one of those 'where were you?' moments that won't soon, if ever, be forgotten. The best part for a lot among us? You didn't even have to be a Yankees fan to appreciate it. It's a long way from the streets of Puerto Caimito, Panama, to the bright lights at Citi Field, in the city he has called home, in this, his adopted country, for the past 19 seasons.
Imagine the thoughts going through this man's mind as he stood on the bump in the bullpen, making the last few tosses, before that familiar guitar rift blared over the loud speakers, offering his cue that it was time to, 'Enter Sandman'; thoughts of shaping bats out of tree branches, hitting balls made only of old, discarded fishing net and tape, and catching fly balls with gloves carved out of old milk cartons. And that long, lonesome stroll, alone with these thoughts, through the plush green grass, with the ASG insignia forming a perfect template in the outfield. Did they also bring reminders of a childhood walking to the docks, to board his fathers' boat, toward another grueling day fishing for shrimp and sardines, in order to make a living? We may never know the answer to these questions, but we do know one thing: 40,000 people in attendance, teams in both dugouts and millions of us at home got to witness, in his glory, the most dominant closer the game has ever known. And we appreciated the moment. I have the goosebumps to prove it.
Scott
Imagine the thoughts going through this man's mind as he stood on the bump in the bullpen, making the last few tosses, before that familiar guitar rift blared over the loud speakers, offering his cue that it was time to, 'Enter Sandman'; thoughts of shaping bats out of tree branches, hitting balls made only of old, discarded fishing net and tape, and catching fly balls with gloves carved out of old milk cartons. And that long, lonesome stroll, alone with these thoughts, through the plush green grass, with the ASG insignia forming a perfect template in the outfield. Did they also bring reminders of a childhood walking to the docks, to board his fathers' boat, toward another grueling day fishing for shrimp and sardines, in order to make a living? We may never know the answer to these questions, but we do know one thing: 40,000 people in attendance, teams in both dugouts and millions of us at home got to witness, in his glory, the most dominant closer the game has ever known. And we appreciated the moment. I have the goosebumps to prove it.
13 times he was voted to the All Star Game, appearing in 9. He ranks 1st all time in saves, 1st in post season saves, 1st in post season E.R.A., has won 5 World Series rings, was last nights' MVP and he did it all with one pitch. Now, don't get fooled into thinking, 'One pitch? That's not dominating'. On the surface, no. Instead, examine the science of that pitch, the cut fastball. Much like Greg Maddux used to defy logic, throwing a mediocre fastball, with pinpoint accuracy, he takes this one pitch and manipulates everything about it; the delivery angle, speed, grip and stride to the plate. He has worked so hard, and studied so fiercely, that he can make this one pitch seem like a dozen; two dozen even. It's masterful to watch and it's genius in its simplicity. This man didn't grow up in a baseball factory. His town didn't have a diamond on every corner and sponsors on the backs of their shirts. In his town they played soccer for real, and baseball for fun. Why? Because that was the culture and outside of that culture, when you dare to switch the roles of your birthright due to a series of unfortunate ankle injuries, you learn a different craft, you break it down, until it's perfect and you make people notice. This man invented the K.I.S.S. method. Genius, sheer genius. Oh, and they did notice; a little. The Yankees, in all of their wisdom, snatched this hidden gem up from the streets of Panama, for a whopping $3,000 USD. That's the equivalent of a little over 5k today, but you get the picture. This man, now hailed as the greatest ever, wasn't supposed to make it; he didn't belong here. Look at him now.
His accolades as an athlete are noteworthy, but what may be even more impressive, is the work he does away from the game; his character, devotion to his family and assistance to the general public, which he provides through his foundation, both here and back in his homeland. This man embodies what is good about professional athletes. This man is a true role model, fashioned by his work ethic, actions and deeds, rather than words. This man is a sure fire Hall of Famer, first in life, then in the game he loves. This man is, Mariano Rivera.
So, last night, as you got to the hill, taking a moment to soak it all in, offering up a sheepish, almost embarrassed, smiled and donned your cap to the millions of adoring fans watching attentively, I hope you realize, sir, it is we who should be saluting you. Well done, Mariano and thanks for the show.
Exit Sandman,
Exit Sandman,
Scott
Monday, July 15, 2013
The 'International' Call Center-Irritating Consumers Since...Forever
You know? I get this topic that is light-hearted, funny and should be very well received (no, not the Zimmerman verdict), and it keeps getting forced farther and farther onto the back burner because these stupid everyday societal situations keep forging a cavernous path to the front. And, believe me, I HATE defending society; that's the whole point of my taking up such valuable real estate each day, or so, on the cyber highway. Today, I had no choice, because today were dealing with...call centers.
Don't get me wrong, call centers serve a purpose. You can take a large group of people, throw them in a room full of 6x6 cubicles for 8 hours a day, add an hour for lunch, and let them field a high volume of calls from people who have no desire (zero, zilch, n-a-d-a), to talk to them. Ever. Now, add to this wonderfully stupendous (isn't this a derivative of 'stupid'?) formula, the fact that said cubicles are housed on the continent of Asia, also known as the Indian Sub-continent, and you've just opened the bay doors to a nuclear missile silo and given every disgruntled consumer in America, the launch codes.
The people in the board rooms of these Mega financial conglomerates have to be rocking back in their $1500 Italian leather executive office chairs, laughing their collective Armani clad buttocks' off, at the ignorance that we perpetuate every day, in an effort at minimal satisfaction. They knew exactly what they were doing when they moved these fiber optic hubs out of the Skokie, Illinois' of the world, and into the suburbs of Ganj Peth. Save a little money; save a lot of time. What's the old adage? Everybody. Time..is..
Where you used to place a call to your friendly neighborhood 800 number, now we use the same number, navigate through a maze of automatic options for our 'convenience', to which we almost always futilely attempt to beat the system by jumping to 'zero', only to be told by the only English-sounding person we'll deal with in the course of this mind numbing journey, somebody else' antiquated version of 'Siri', that this simply is not a viable option. So, it's back to retrieve the menu selections, again, this time in their entirety. When we finally are able to ascertain that option #4 will get us to a customer service "representative", the line rings...and rings, then 15 seconds of Tracy Chapman on Muzak, a couple more rings and...air; we hold our breath, eagerly anticipating the tongue lashing we're about to unleash on this unfortunate individual, when they answer with their canned, Mega conglomerate greeting, and you can't..understand..a..word..they're..saying. Really? This is the face, or voice, of the franchise? Because, I know my first instinct is to throw down the phone and run out into the middle of freeway traffic at 3:30 on a sunny Friday afternoon (okay 2:15). But, regardless, we don't. We stay on the line, fighting to discern anything beyond, 'My name is...', because we're sheep; all headed to the same proverbial slaughter.
This is the genius of today's corporate senior management. They put themselves in a position to make more money, handle less complaints and remain on fairly solid ground; because no matter how much we complain, they understand that we are creatures of habit, we fall in line and do as we're mandated. And for every poor individual who dares venture beyond these strict boundaries, there are three to take his place. Unfortunately, accountability today is at an all time low and again, it's up to us to proactively legislate change. You think I'm exaggerating, or it's not that big a deal? Have I got an 800# for you.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Don't get me wrong, call centers serve a purpose. You can take a large group of people, throw them in a room full of 6x6 cubicles for 8 hours a day, add an hour for lunch, and let them field a high volume of calls from people who have no desire (zero, zilch, n-a-d-a), to talk to them. Ever. Now, add to this wonderfully stupendous (isn't this a derivative of 'stupid'?) formula, the fact that said cubicles are housed on the continent of Asia, also known as the Indian Sub-continent, and you've just opened the bay doors to a nuclear missile silo and given every disgruntled consumer in America, the launch codes.
The people in the board rooms of these Mega financial conglomerates have to be rocking back in their $1500 Italian leather executive office chairs, laughing their collective Armani clad buttocks' off, at the ignorance that we perpetuate every day, in an effort at minimal satisfaction. They knew exactly what they were doing when they moved these fiber optic hubs out of the Skokie, Illinois' of the world, and into the suburbs of Ganj Peth. Save a little money; save a lot of time. What's the old adage? Everybody. Time..is..
Where you used to place a call to your friendly neighborhood 800 number, now we use the same number, navigate through a maze of automatic options for our 'convenience', to which we almost always futilely attempt to beat the system by jumping to 'zero', only to be told by the only English-sounding person we'll deal with in the course of this mind numbing journey, somebody else' antiquated version of 'Siri', that this simply is not a viable option. So, it's back to retrieve the menu selections, again, this time in their entirety. When we finally are able to ascertain that option #4 will get us to a customer service "representative", the line rings...and rings, then 15 seconds of Tracy Chapman on Muzak, a couple more rings and...air; we hold our breath, eagerly anticipating the tongue lashing we're about to unleash on this unfortunate individual, when they answer with their canned, Mega conglomerate greeting, and you can't..understand..a..word..they're..saying. Really? This is the face, or voice, of the franchise? Because, I know my first instinct is to throw down the phone and run out into the middle of freeway traffic at 3:30 on a sunny Friday afternoon (okay 2:15). But, regardless, we don't. We stay on the line, fighting to discern anything beyond, 'My name is...', because we're sheep; all headed to the same proverbial slaughter.
This is the genius of today's corporate senior management. They put themselves in a position to make more money, handle less complaints and remain on fairly solid ground; because no matter how much we complain, they understand that we are creatures of habit, we fall in line and do as we're mandated. And for every poor individual who dares venture beyond these strict boundaries, there are three to take his place. Unfortunately, accountability today is at an all time low and again, it's up to us to proactively legislate change. You think I'm exaggerating, or it's not that big a deal? Have I got an 800# for you.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Her Name is Haiti
I had a topic all picked out for today, but I'm not quite ready to pull the trigger. So, instead, I've decided to hit the rewind button, to December,'03, a time of great anticipation and even greater uncertainty; a time of extortion, embezzlement and a government coup; a time of multiple visits to a third world country, escorted day and night by a man known only as 'Big'-he was, nobody messed with him, or us, and we definitely didn't ask why. It was a time spent in our hotel room, waiting for word, any word, on the status of our mission and learning of a foreign dictator found cowering in a bunker by a select group of elite American forces. It was a time of great victories and near catastrophe, and the intervention of a certain U.S. Senator who made our mission, and dreams, come true. This was the time we fought and waited, not so patiently, for the decision to come; the determination that we could finally travel back to the country we've come to know and love...to pick up our first born son. The following is my way of honoring those who gave us everything we'd ever hoped for, and more.
I hope you enjoy...
I hope you enjoy...
Her Name is Haiti
From the time we first met her,
We were in love.
It was if He had spoken,
From high up above.
We sought out her fortunes,
And what did we find?
A beautiful child,
Truly one of a kind.
She said, "Come and take him,
Make him your own.
From now as a baby,
Until he is grown."
We replied, "Yes, but...
How can this possibly be?"
We need much more guidance,
That truth you must see."
So she told us a story,
One of turmoil and strife.
And how she had called us,
To save this one life.
"I love all my children,
I'm so richly blessed.
But, he needs a HOME now,
A place he can rest."
We listened in wonder,
To this awesome story.
And grieved as she spoke,
Of her long fall from glory.
"But, that's in the past now",
She bravely replied.
"A great future we seek!"
She laughed, while we cried.
"There's no reason for sadness,
You've done all you can.
Now go take this boy,
And make him a man."
With that thought she turned,
And she went on her way.
Her story we promised,
To tell him one day.
But who was this woman?
Not Oprah, or Katie.
No, she's even stronger...
Her name is Haiti.
Until tomorrow,
Makenley's dad
Friday, July 12, 2013
You're Hired! Wait...Huh? (Part II)
What is wrong with these people? By some 8th Day Miracle of God, they've just managed to land a job, that pays good money and offers hours that they all say that they need; so, at what point, exactly, does the train wreck occur? You all know these people. You look at them and wonder what we were thinking, lay your bets down on the lunch room table, then roll your eyes when Betty Lou, the 30th-anniversary-of-life-given-to-this-company, Head Cashier nails it, after New Guy assimilates himself into the group of other malcontents that somehow have managed to remain employed for longer than fifteen minutes. And...exhale.
What I truly don't understand, or find it impossible to relate to, is, these people are healthy, smart individuals. I've always said that if they put half as much creative energy into committing themselves to improving their standard of living, and making a contribution, instead of finding ways around their employment obligations, they could run the stinking company! And, I've met some brilliant, and brilliantly lazy, people in my time in the public sector. But, predictably, the job, new job, is treated like a trip to the dentist for a root canal, without any anesthetic. It's as if their mother, or girlfriend (unlikely), or wife (highly unlikely), has demanded they get off their lazy rears and go make some money. Soooo, they trek down to the local Quickie Mart, pick up a pack of generic cigarettes, take a drink from the slushy machine dispenser, shove a newspaper down the front of their D.D. camouflage pj's (ironic, huh?), shuffle home, the toe strap on one of their $1.89 China Mart flip flops flapping with each high step to the pavement and head to the basement, where they tear through the paper, looking for the want-ads, then thumb tack another hole into the wall of the double wide and begin a frantic search for the 'Dart of Employment' (I know...highly unlikely the DW has a basement, but play along, okay?). Then, upon sobering up enough to hit the paper, you, as the employer, become the lucky recipient of, 'You're Hired', Part I.
And these people are m-I-s-e-r-a-b-l-e individuals; and the majority have families (that topic must wait for another day)! Are these family members doomed to be just as miserable? You'd have to think so. What about the kids? So sad...
You would think that someone who shows up for a job, to support someone, would be thankful regardless of the circumstances of their employment. But instead, they hang out, day after day, and bitch and moan about everything that's wrong with their life, job (that they bothered to waste our time applying for), their bosses and anything else that they think people with the same mindset want to hear them spew about. And these people n-e-v-e-r l-e-a-v-e. Why? What enjoyment can they possibly get out of behaving in this manner? I guarantee you know at least one person in your place of employment, right now, and could offer their name without hesitation, because they're everywhere. They're the employees that get hired by whomever will pay them, stay for 30+ years (sorry, Betty Lou) and complain for the duration, because they lack the courage, will, and conviction, to forge their own path; to acknowledge the fact that this is the one chance they'll get in this life and should make the most of it. What a stupid way to think. Wouldn't it be a much more fulfilling life to seek out your passion, get involved, even if it is for a little less money, and...be happy?!? And don't get me started on able-bodied welfare recipients. The first-hand stories I've heard directly from these folks would require a third installment.
The mental state of the American worker is pathetic and sad. Yes, many jobs have gone overseas, or into other countries, but there are still jobs here in the States. You probably won't get rich overnight, but you know what? You might. That's the 'American Dream'. And the ironic part about the jobs that aren't here anymore, is that companies were savvy enough to find a location where people..wanted..to..work. They were begging for work; and they got it.
If you don't like the state of affairs regarding today's workplace, then you must be willing to affect change. Take a chance, use the brilliant mind you were gifted and do it better. We all have it in us to make a positive impact; what we lack is the motivation. You want to talk about the pride of the American worker? Then, stand up..shut up..and prove it.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
What I truly don't understand, or find it impossible to relate to, is, these people are healthy, smart individuals. I've always said that if they put half as much creative energy into committing themselves to improving their standard of living, and making a contribution, instead of finding ways around their employment obligations, they could run the stinking company! And, I've met some brilliant, and brilliantly lazy, people in my time in the public sector. But, predictably, the job, new job, is treated like a trip to the dentist for a root canal, without any anesthetic. It's as if their mother, or girlfriend (unlikely), or wife (highly unlikely), has demanded they get off their lazy rears and go make some money. Soooo, they trek down to the local Quickie Mart, pick up a pack of generic cigarettes, take a drink from the slushy machine dispenser, shove a newspaper down the front of their D.D. camouflage pj's (ironic, huh?), shuffle home, the toe strap on one of their $1.89 China Mart flip flops flapping with each high step to the pavement and head to the basement, where they tear through the paper, looking for the want-ads, then thumb tack another hole into the wall of the double wide and begin a frantic search for the 'Dart of Employment' (I know...highly unlikely the DW has a basement, but play along, okay?). Then, upon sobering up enough to hit the paper, you, as the employer, become the lucky recipient of, 'You're Hired', Part I.
And these people are m-I-s-e-r-a-b-l-e individuals; and the majority have families (that topic must wait for another day)! Are these family members doomed to be just as miserable? You'd have to think so. What about the kids? So sad...
You would think that someone who shows up for a job, to support someone, would be thankful regardless of the circumstances of their employment. But instead, they hang out, day after day, and bitch and moan about everything that's wrong with their life, job (that they bothered to waste our time applying for), their bosses and anything else that they think people with the same mindset want to hear them spew about. And these people n-e-v-e-r l-e-a-v-e. Why? What enjoyment can they possibly get out of behaving in this manner? I guarantee you know at least one person in your place of employment, right now, and could offer their name without hesitation, because they're everywhere. They're the employees that get hired by whomever will pay them, stay for 30+ years (sorry, Betty Lou) and complain for the duration, because they lack the courage, will, and conviction, to forge their own path; to acknowledge the fact that this is the one chance they'll get in this life and should make the most of it. What a stupid way to think. Wouldn't it be a much more fulfilling life to seek out your passion, get involved, even if it is for a little less money, and...be happy?!? And don't get me started on able-bodied welfare recipients. The first-hand stories I've heard directly from these folks would require a third installment.
The mental state of the American worker is pathetic and sad. Yes, many jobs have gone overseas, or into other countries, but there are still jobs here in the States. You probably won't get rich overnight, but you know what? You might. That's the 'American Dream'. And the ironic part about the jobs that aren't here anymore, is that companies were savvy enough to find a location where people..wanted..to..work. They were begging for work; and they got it.
If you don't like the state of affairs regarding today's workplace, then you must be willing to affect change. Take a chance, use the brilliant mind you were gifted and do it better. We all have it in us to make a positive impact; what we lack is the motivation. You want to talk about the pride of the American worker? Then, stand up..shut up..and prove it.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Thursday, July 11, 2013
You're Hired! Wait...Huh? (Part I)
This topic is so important to me and drives me SO CrAzY, that I decided to write it in 2 parts: the pre and post hire phases.
Now, you'll have to forgive me because it's been a few years, but in my 20+ years in management, the interview process was always deemed an essential aspect of determining who's best suited to fill a particular job opening. In this process, there were rules and guidelines an interviewer and, hence, potential employer had to follow in order to stay within proper, or lawful, hiring parameters. I'm not 100% certain, so correct me if I speak in error, but I assume these hiring parameters are no longer in place, because, based on my observations (and I do observe), this is the only way I can envision an interview, for a job, that you will get paid for, is being conducted today:
Interviewer: "Hi. Thanks for coming in." "Now, Can I assume that since you're sitting here in front of me, you have a pulse?"
Employee (they don't know, but they've already been hired): "Uh...sure." (smacking gum, pie hole wide open, making that disgusting sloshy noise, with spittle collecting in the corner of their mouth)
I: "Good. Now before we get too far, I want to let you know this is an interview, and in this interview I will be asking you some questions to determine your eligibility for the position we are hiring for. Is that ok?"
E: "Zzzzz...Huh? Oom? Wha?" "Yeah. Sure. Whate...Zzzzz." (drool collecting in an impressive puddle on the interview table)
I: "Allllll-righty, then." "Now, are you reliable and can you perform the job for which you're being considered, with, or without, reasonable accommodation?"
E: "Zzzzz..."
I: "It's cool. We'll skip that one for now." "What I really want to know is, can you perform this job, complaining the entire time, swearing every now and again, all while giving minimal effort?"
E: "Huhhuh. Huhhuh. Oh, yeah..."
I: "Do you have transportation that will ensure you're able to make it to work at least 50% of the time AND that the times you are present, you are at least 15-30 minutes late?"
E: "Dude, that's an easy one."
I: "Do you have any good gossip about anyone who has worked for us, either presently, or in the past, at any time?"
E: "I don't really know what you mean."
I: "Are you able to cause problems at work, and talk behind people's backs at a moments' notice?"
E: "Oh, yeah. Definitely, dude."
I: "Okay, great!" "Now this last part is very important, so I want you to think carefully before responding."
E: "Whatever, man."
I: "Can you perform the work we're paying you for, in an immature and incompetent manner and then refuse constructive criticism, instead choosing to lash out at your superiors, in an insubordinate manner, on an almost daily basis?"
E: "We'll, hmm. I'm not really sure what all that unmaturial, or insubmarineate stuff is, but I can promise to get in your face and threaten you if you want me to." "If I'm there and I have the energy, I mean. Is that cool?"
I: "Perfect! You're just what we've been looking for." "Congratulations!"
E: "Wait...huh?" "You hired me?"
I: "Well, of course we did." "You're the only person who's come by today, willing to work for a measly $12.00 an hour, 40...well, 37 1/2 hours a week."
E: "Whoa...cool, bro." "I can't wait to tell my stoner bud, Boner. He'll be stoked, dude." "He'll be like, 'Hey, bud...let's par-ty!'"
I: "Excellent. Now, just one more thing. Off the record, of course."
E: "Sure, dude. Go for it."
I: "Is that an authentic Metallica tour t-shirt? How did you get that perfectly round hole in the knee of your jeans, and the pocket to flap in the back like that? Is it easy to keep friends when you smell like the city landfill? Do you comb your hair with a rake? You got anymore of that gum..."
Until later, dudes (and dudettes),
Scott
Now, you'll have to forgive me because it's been a few years, but in my 20+ years in management, the interview process was always deemed an essential aspect of determining who's best suited to fill a particular job opening. In this process, there were rules and guidelines an interviewer and, hence, potential employer had to follow in order to stay within proper, or lawful, hiring parameters. I'm not 100% certain, so correct me if I speak in error, but I assume these hiring parameters are no longer in place, because, based on my observations (and I do observe), this is the only way I can envision an interview, for a job, that you will get paid for, is being conducted today:
Interviewer: "Hi. Thanks for coming in." "Now, Can I assume that since you're sitting here in front of me, you have a pulse?"
Employee (they don't know, but they've already been hired): "Uh...sure." (smacking gum, pie hole wide open, making that disgusting sloshy noise, with spittle collecting in the corner of their mouth)
I: "Good. Now before we get too far, I want to let you know this is an interview, and in this interview I will be asking you some questions to determine your eligibility for the position we are hiring for. Is that ok?"
E: "Zzzzz...Huh? Oom? Wha?" "Yeah. Sure. Whate...Zzzzz." (drool collecting in an impressive puddle on the interview table)
I: "Allllll-righty, then." "Now, are you reliable and can you perform the job for which you're being considered, with, or without, reasonable accommodation?"
E: "Zzzzz..."
I: "It's cool. We'll skip that one for now." "What I really want to know is, can you perform this job, complaining the entire time, swearing every now and again, all while giving minimal effort?"
E: "Huhhuh. Huhhuh. Oh, yeah..."
I: "Do you have transportation that will ensure you're able to make it to work at least 50% of the time AND that the times you are present, you are at least 15-30 minutes late?"
E: "Dude, that's an easy one."
I: "Do you have any good gossip about anyone who has worked for us, either presently, or in the past, at any time?"
E: "I don't really know what you mean."
I: "Are you able to cause problems at work, and talk behind people's backs at a moments' notice?"
E: "Oh, yeah. Definitely, dude."
I: "Okay, great!" "Now this last part is very important, so I want you to think carefully before responding."
E: "Whatever, man."
I: "Can you perform the work we're paying you for, in an immature and incompetent manner and then refuse constructive criticism, instead choosing to lash out at your superiors, in an insubordinate manner, on an almost daily basis?"
E: "We'll, hmm. I'm not really sure what all that unmaturial, or insubmarineate stuff is, but I can promise to get in your face and threaten you if you want me to." "If I'm there and I have the energy, I mean. Is that cool?"
I: "Perfect! You're just what we've been looking for." "Congratulations!"
E: "Wait...huh?" "You hired me?"
I: "Well, of course we did." "You're the only person who's come by today, willing to work for a measly $12.00 an hour, 40...well, 37 1/2 hours a week."
E: "Whoa...cool, bro." "I can't wait to tell my stoner bud, Boner. He'll be stoked, dude." "He'll be like, 'Hey, bud...let's par-ty!'"
I: "Excellent. Now, just one more thing. Off the record, of course."
E: "Sure, dude. Go for it."
I: "Is that an authentic Metallica tour t-shirt? How did you get that perfectly round hole in the knee of your jeans, and the pocket to flap in the back like that? Is it easy to keep friends when you smell like the city landfill? Do you comb your hair with a rake? You got anymore of that gum..."
Until later, dudes (and dudettes),
Scott
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
The Four Letter Word
Just what makes the four letter word, the four letter word? How did it earn this dubious distinction? The word has been around for thousands of years and was used quite liberally in the times of the ancient Romans. So, what has happened in the centuries since, that has attached such a social stigma to the word?
My son asked me a while back, "Dad, can I get in trouble for using the four letter word at school?" "I don't really know how to answer that", I replied. "I suppose it depends where you are and who you're around". The more I thought about this response, the more I wondered if I was being a good role model, not taking a more solid stance on the subject. Think about it. It's a word. Sure, words have literal and implied meaning and words can hurt. But, why? What is it about this word that makes it taboo and socially unacceptable to use...well, anywhere?
We can't act like the four letter word doesn't exist, so isn't it about time we pulled our heads out of the sand? European societies don't have social anxiety over use of the word; in fact, you see it aired countless times throughout the course of any given day, on any number of television and radio stations. So, why then, in this country, the leader of the free world, can we not get beyond our own stupid, awkward fears and stand up, be brave, and tell our society and our government, that we're going to choose to invoke our 1st Amendment right to use the four letter word if, and when, we see fit?
As an intelligent and rational individual, you have the right to shed the shame and guilt that society has cast over use of the word, and liberate yourself in the process. Did you know that use of the four letter word is cathartic in nature and has the power to heal, and free, the mind? Who among us can't find value, or need, in that? As much as I preach about taking your life back, shouldn't liberation of the mind be a part of that process?
We were once such a truly brave, proud nation. The addition of so many laws and by-laws and amendments to the great constitution of our land has left us vulnerable, fearful and weak. Wake up and realize the four letter word is out there, and it's out there for a reason. And, as long as this remains the case, we have a responsibility to start healing ourselves. After all, what is there really to fear, about...
...HOPE?
Until tomorrow,
Scott
My son asked me a while back, "Dad, can I get in trouble for using the four letter word at school?" "I don't really know how to answer that", I replied. "I suppose it depends where you are and who you're around". The more I thought about this response, the more I wondered if I was being a good role model, not taking a more solid stance on the subject. Think about it. It's a word. Sure, words have literal and implied meaning and words can hurt. But, why? What is it about this word that makes it taboo and socially unacceptable to use...well, anywhere?
We can't act like the four letter word doesn't exist, so isn't it about time we pulled our heads out of the sand? European societies don't have social anxiety over use of the word; in fact, you see it aired countless times throughout the course of any given day, on any number of television and radio stations. So, why then, in this country, the leader of the free world, can we not get beyond our own stupid, awkward fears and stand up, be brave, and tell our society and our government, that we're going to choose to invoke our 1st Amendment right to use the four letter word if, and when, we see fit?
As an intelligent and rational individual, you have the right to shed the shame and guilt that society has cast over use of the word, and liberate yourself in the process. Did you know that use of the four letter word is cathartic in nature and has the power to heal, and free, the mind? Who among us can't find value, or need, in that? As much as I preach about taking your life back, shouldn't liberation of the mind be a part of that process?
We were once such a truly brave, proud nation. The addition of so many laws and by-laws and amendments to the great constitution of our land has left us vulnerable, fearful and weak. Wake up and realize the four letter word is out there, and it's out there for a reason. And, as long as this remains the case, we have a responsibility to start healing ourselves. After all, what is there really to fear, about...
...HOPE?
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Sunday, July 7, 2013
I'm Prejudiced...So Sue Me
Yes, you read it right. No need to adjust you tablets, or monitors, or whatever device the two of you are reading this on. I'm prejudiced, but my prejudice has nothing to do with race, or sexual orientation, or gender; well, mostly. No, my prejudice is much more encompassing, or comprehensive, if you will. My prejudice deals with, first and foremost, anyone?, stupidity. But let's not close the door on the subject there. I'm just getting warmed up. Besides, I did say it was a very comprehensive list and we have to do this subject justice...
Moving forward, my prejudice deals with (inhale), ignorance, idiocy, rudeness, arrogance, laziness, envy, jealousy, gossip, immaturity, bullying, self absorption, bad driving, thieves, liars, criminals, intolerance, abuse, Walmart, slow drivers, weak minds, quitters, egomaniacs, dealers, users, thugs, Game Stop, meat heads, bad music, pontification (ha, ha), losers, deadbeats, the uninformed, politicians, excuses, stank, those who ignore stop signs and stop lights, ugly babies and cats.
Why do I feel so strongly about my prejudices? Oh, I don't know. Probably because it's everything that's wrong with society! I am so sick and tired of the lack of accountability today. What in the world happened? It's no wonder we have so many people getting sick, on anti anxiety medicine, sleep medication, pills for hyperactivity; it's because we refuse to take control of our lives, but instead choose to whine and moan and blame everyone else and it's making us c-r-a-z-y. I know, I've been there. But I refuse to be a victim to the game any longer. Life moves quickly and is so very short.
You get one go around in this life unless, of course, you believe in reincarnation, in which case you get 1,000 go arounds and can stop reading now. 99.9% of us get one go around. If you don't like the way things are going, change it. What's the worst thing that can happen? You're already miserable, so take you life back. Get help, give help, but at the absolute least, demand your life back and get off my list!
Oh, and if you don't like my entry? Sue me.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Moving forward, my prejudice deals with (inhale), ignorance, idiocy, rudeness, arrogance, laziness, envy, jealousy, gossip, immaturity, bullying, self absorption, bad driving, thieves, liars, criminals, intolerance, abuse, Walmart, slow drivers, weak minds, quitters, egomaniacs, dealers, users, thugs, Game Stop, meat heads, bad music, pontification (ha, ha), losers, deadbeats, the uninformed, politicians, excuses, stank, those who ignore stop signs and stop lights, ugly babies and cats.
Why do I feel so strongly about my prejudices? Oh, I don't know. Probably because it's everything that's wrong with society! I am so sick and tired of the lack of accountability today. What in the world happened? It's no wonder we have so many people getting sick, on anti anxiety medicine, sleep medication, pills for hyperactivity; it's because we refuse to take control of our lives, but instead choose to whine and moan and blame everyone else and it's making us c-r-a-z-y. I know, I've been there. But I refuse to be a victim to the game any longer. Life moves quickly and is so very short.
You get one go around in this life unless, of course, you believe in reincarnation, in which case you get 1,000 go arounds and can stop reading now. 99.9% of us get one go around. If you don't like the way things are going, change it. What's the worst thing that can happen? You're already miserable, so take you life back. Get help, give help, but at the absolute least, demand your life back and get off my list!
Oh, and if you don't like my entry? Sue me.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
The Family Reunion-What's Your Name Again?
Stop me if this sounds familiar. You drive 650 miles with your wife and kids in tow, for an extra special long weekend getaway. You arrive at your destination and shake the first hand of the dozens of wonderful people you're related to, have met a multitude of times, yet have no recollection of their names, when your hyper-active, throw all caution to the wind, toddler, shoots out the door and dares you to chase after him. Next thing you know, you look up, it's 3 days later, the man van is packed up and you're back on the road for another carefree 11 hour jaunt across America's heartland, with your own customized version of the 'hell's angels'. Welcome to the family reunion.
The family reunion is wonderful in theory. Get together with your family for a few days, reminisce about the memories none of you share together and fantasize about how much better your life is, than the lonely schmuck you actually do manage to capture 5 minutes of adult conversation with. It could always be worse, I suppose. You could be having this same conversation at the kids' table at each of the 4 daily, overindulgent, buffet style meals over the course of those same 3 days. Imagine what a loser you'd feel like then.
No, to me, it would seem to make much more sense to have a reunion, if you're going to go to the trouble of planning such an event, at a daycare. I mean, isn't that all it is anyway? A bunch of strangers chasing their ADD monsters all over the neighborhood, when they could keep them corralled in a 20x40 room hopped up on juice boxes and fruit snacks? Does this not make perfectly sane sense? The only drawback, regarding attendance, would be the inability to serve alcohol in such a facility, but that just means less people you have to deal with anyways. It's perfect, and it's about time.
Let's face it, the advent of social media, texting and the like, has made it far too convenient to stay in touch with the people you value and those people aren't going anyway, because you already talk to them every day! You would have more luck (and fun) running your 'Familypalooza' by plucking 30 people out of line at Walmart, nuking some franks and beans, serving up some warm PBR and hiring a karaoke DJ to headline the festivities. If we're being completely honest, we can admit that when it comes to these types of endeavors, we suck at giving the effort we cherish and deserve...most of the time.
Recently, I attended a "reunion" weekend and dreaded the thought of each of the aforementioned nightmare scenarios becoming part of my permanent legacy and memory bank, and I'll be honest enough to tell you, I only have room enough for so many deposits each month. But, this was different. This was a celebration of the lives of their ancestors; a living, breathing history lesson and it was captivating. People gathered in circles to hear the stories of 3 brothers being born in a house their father had built, how they walked across the street to attend elementary school and how dreadful it was knowing the nuns could walk right back across the street, tugging on their ears if they misbehaved. It was inspiring standing in the middle of an old abandoned church where their grandparents had been married and where they now lay together in a cemetery on those same grounds. And, what about the little boy who would get lured, by his sister, to the railroad tracks next to the lumberyard a block from their house, whenever a train could be heard approaching? It feels like an insult to call this a reunion, because it embodied so many elements that a reunion is not. No, this was a familial gathering to honor a proud lineage, and I was so happy and proud to be a part.
We, in American society, need to prioritize our lives and stop being so selfish and stupid. Take time to celebrate those around us, in a manner in which they deserve. Honor the people who've come before you and thank the ones you're with, because they are your heritage, we are bound to that heritage and it's our responsibility to carry on that legacy with dignity and grace. Dare to ditch the reunion and, instead, immerse yourself in a very personal, tangible history lesson. The satisfaction and appreciation you'll feel, truly nourishes the soul.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Independence Day??? I Thought It Was The 4th Of July!
Okay, quick show of hands. Who knows a) why we celebrate Independence Day, B) which country we emancipated ourselves from, and c) what year the Declaration of Independence was signed? Great! Liars. Did you know, a poll using a sampling of average Americans revealed that less than 50% of the people living in this country today can answer all 3 of these questions correctly and just as many respondents believed we were liberated from the rule of Canada, as that of Great Britain?
For many citizens, it's another formal recognition of out military and the security and freedom they provide for us, when this simply is not the case. We have 2 such holidays in place to represent the greatest fighting force in the world: Veteran's Day, which honors the distinguished service of the men and women who have fought for our country, and Memorial Day, which commemorates the lives lost in this service. No, today is about the brave men who established the freedoms that these warriors protect, and signed their names to that great document which declared us a sovereign nation and provided our laws and amendments which, to this day, play a vital part in our daily existence.
So where did we go wrong? When did this become more about people who don't have quite enough money, going out and buying explosives they don't really need, to impress a neighbor they don't even like, and less about these men who stood up to tyrannical law and said, 'this just isn't good enough and we demand better', and then making..it..happen. Somehow, we've managed to turn this into another good ole' U.S.of A. pyrotechnic beer festival and clambake, and forgotten the reason for the season (so much for the 2 drink limits and wristbands).
We owe it to our fore fathers to quit being stupid and give at least a moments' pause on this greatest of days for our country. Honor them by remembering the why, when, and how the events of this day unfolded. They deserve that much from us, because although Mr. Franklin may have been on to something with that whole, 'key on the kite string trick', we can't honestly be led to believe this was the vision they had for their future. They were far too intelligent a people for that. Never forget (and don't blow me up)...
Until tomorrow,
Scott
For many citizens, it's another formal recognition of out military and the security and freedom they provide for us, when this simply is not the case. We have 2 such holidays in place to represent the greatest fighting force in the world: Veteran's Day, which honors the distinguished service of the men and women who have fought for our country, and Memorial Day, which commemorates the lives lost in this service. No, today is about the brave men who established the freedoms that these warriors protect, and signed their names to that great document which declared us a sovereign nation and provided our laws and amendments which, to this day, play a vital part in our daily existence.
So where did we go wrong? When did this become more about people who don't have quite enough money, going out and buying explosives they don't really need, to impress a neighbor they don't even like, and less about these men who stood up to tyrannical law and said, 'this just isn't good enough and we demand better', and then making..it..happen. Somehow, we've managed to turn this into another good ole' U.S.of A. pyrotechnic beer festival and clambake, and forgotten the reason for the season (so much for the 2 drink limits and wristbands).
We owe it to our fore fathers to quit being stupid and give at least a moments' pause on this greatest of days for our country. Honor them by remembering the why, when, and how the events of this day unfolded. They deserve that much from us, because although Mr. Franklin may have been on to something with that whole, 'key on the kite string trick', we can't honestly be led to believe this was the vision they had for their future. They were far too intelligent a people for that. Never forget (and don't blow me up)...
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
The Status Update
Thank god for social networking and the status update. But, what exactly is the status update and why do we care about it so much? One Internet site defines it as, "an update feature which allows users to discuss their thoughts, whereabouts, or important information with their friends". They go on to say the update is, "usually short and generally gives information without going into too much detail". If this is the true definition of a status update, then I don't know that I've ever read one, at least on a particular Harvard alum's mega networking conglomerate (and, for the record, nowhere is there any mention of cats, or cakes).
No, what I'm used to seeing would be more accurately regarded as "status pontification", "status malady of the millennium ", or "status of a 'don't quit your day job'". Admittedly, I'm guilty of all of the above. The difference is, I'm relevant and funny, you're not.
Status, according to thefreedictionary.com, is defined as: 1) position relating to that of others: standing 2) high standing: prestige: a position of status in the community. This, to me, is what it's truly all about. Not being funny, or relaying the perfect recipe (there's a site for that), but attempting to be more funny, or have a better recipe. But why is this all so important to us? Have we really failed so miserably in our professional, or personal lives, that this is the only outlet remaining to make us feel better about ourselves? In my humble opinion, it's okay if this is the case; just be honest. I'm pretty sure we all know that our buddy that drinks just a little bit too much and hoards his food stamps one week, isn't the CEO of a newly minted Fortune 200 company the next. Oh, and I'm really not that funny.
Don't get me wrong, the status update is a useful tool for its intended use, but let's cut through the b.s. It really doesn't take that much creativity to take a lame-o posting, add a few kids, or dancing animals and make it epic. But, be real; this doesn't make you original, it makes you an imaginative plagiarist...like me.
Social media is an important means of connecting with others, keeping up with their lives, health and well being and, well, networking. But, take it from me, we all know who you are, where you live and what you do on a daily basis, in reality. Keep the nonsense to a minimum, or you'll end up like me..writing a blog..for people you've fooled into thinking you're something you obviously have no hope to become, in this lifetime. Don't be stupid.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
No, what I'm used to seeing would be more accurately regarded as "status pontification", "status malady of the millennium ", or "status of a 'don't quit your day job'". Admittedly, I'm guilty of all of the above. The difference is, I'm relevant and funny, you're not.
Status, according to thefreedictionary.com, is defined as: 1) position relating to that of others: standing 2) high standing: prestige: a position of status in the community. This, to me, is what it's truly all about. Not being funny, or relaying the perfect recipe (there's a site for that), but attempting to be more funny, or have a better recipe. But why is this all so important to us? Have we really failed so miserably in our professional, or personal lives, that this is the only outlet remaining to make us feel better about ourselves? In my humble opinion, it's okay if this is the case; just be honest. I'm pretty sure we all know that our buddy that drinks just a little bit too much and hoards his food stamps one week, isn't the CEO of a newly minted Fortune 200 company the next. Oh, and I'm really not that funny.
Don't get me wrong, the status update is a useful tool for its intended use, but let's cut through the b.s. It really doesn't take that much creativity to take a lame-o posting, add a few kids, or dancing animals and make it epic. But, be real; this doesn't make you original, it makes you an imaginative plagiarist...like me.
Social media is an important means of connecting with others, keeping up with their lives, health and well being and, well, networking. But, take it from me, we all know who you are, where you live and what you do on a daily basis, in reality. Keep the nonsense to a minimum, or you'll end up like me..writing a blog..for people you've fooled into thinking you're something you obviously have no hope to become, in this lifetime. Don't be stupid.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
The Beginning of Something...Well, Something
Well, here it is. Many of you have asked, "When are you going to write a book, or start a blog?" Just as many, if not more, have privately prayed, 'Oh, dear god no'. 'He's already impossible to deal with. Pleaaase don't subject us to that nightmare'.
The best case scenario for that latter among you, is that I will be completely unoriginal, will fail miserably in my attempts to inform, entertain and provoke thought and will slink away, tail between my legs, silently into the night. The worst case scenario, however, is that I will gain traction, and momentum, and a few people will actually enjoy the rumblings that come from the ends of my fingers and into your personal cyber 'space'. These groupies (or immediate family members) will share their favorite editions and we will become an unstoppable force, a worldwide phenomenon, if you will.
But, what is it all about, this Therapeutically Certifiable blog? What will set you apart from the millions of other fast food novelists clogging up our hard drives and mega memory? Well, nothing; or everything. In fact my initial brainstorm of brilliance was to call it 'The Blog of Nothing'. Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell me the blogger community isn't a unique literary highway, reserved for my neighbor Barney and myself, but that is the premise. Whatever I believe will be thought provoking, infuriating, or hilarious at any given moment will more than likely become part of this dubious endeavor. Whatever I believe will suck, will not. Several of you have requested topical spots, on occasion, but most of you will probably be ignored. When it come to derailing a train, I'm perfectly capable of the 'crash and burn'.
Many of you may read this journal and think, 'This is terrible'. 'It's a grammatical nightmare and not at all what I'd hoped it would be'. Great! That means I have room to improve and can take your thoughts and ideas, incorporate them into my arena and subsidize my retirement off of the '50% of the time I'm right, the other 50% of the time I'm never wrong', crowd. Ultimately it's about me and my journey into the world of self help. Never forget that. Me, me, me. See? I already sound like a member of our stupid society.
In the end, my hope is that I am able to make people think, internalize and act on a wide array of subjects. My aim will be to make you laugh, cry and want to punch me in the eye (you knew there had to be at least one lame reference to the 'ode' to make it relevant). I will delve into some of the idiosyncrasies and dysfunctional aspects that make my family great. I will also talk about hot button sports topics, as they arise, which may consume this space for the foreseeable future. But mostly, I will speak to my observations of our stupid society and our obligation to each other to leave an indelible legacy and make it a more inhabitable, if not 'intelligent' place to live. Easy peasy...right?
Here's to celebrating the infancy and evolution of this wonderful project. Climb aboard and hang on. It's going to be a bumpy ride...
Until tomorrow,
Scott
The best case scenario for that latter among you, is that I will be completely unoriginal, will fail miserably in my attempts to inform, entertain and provoke thought and will slink away, tail between my legs, silently into the night. The worst case scenario, however, is that I will gain traction, and momentum, and a few people will actually enjoy the rumblings that come from the ends of my fingers and into your personal cyber 'space'. These groupies (or immediate family members) will share their favorite editions and we will become an unstoppable force, a worldwide phenomenon, if you will.
But, what is it all about, this Therapeutically Certifiable blog? What will set you apart from the millions of other fast food novelists clogging up our hard drives and mega memory? Well, nothing; or everything. In fact my initial brainstorm of brilliance was to call it 'The Blog of Nothing'. Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell me the blogger community isn't a unique literary highway, reserved for my neighbor Barney and myself, but that is the premise. Whatever I believe will be thought provoking, infuriating, or hilarious at any given moment will more than likely become part of this dubious endeavor. Whatever I believe will suck, will not. Several of you have requested topical spots, on occasion, but most of you will probably be ignored. When it come to derailing a train, I'm perfectly capable of the 'crash and burn'.
Many of you may read this journal and think, 'This is terrible'. 'It's a grammatical nightmare and not at all what I'd hoped it would be'. Great! That means I have room to improve and can take your thoughts and ideas, incorporate them into my arena and subsidize my retirement off of the '50% of the time I'm right, the other 50% of the time I'm never wrong', crowd. Ultimately it's about me and my journey into the world of self help. Never forget that. Me, me, me. See? I already sound like a member of our stupid society.
In the end, my hope is that I am able to make people think, internalize and act on a wide array of subjects. My aim will be to make you laugh, cry and want to punch me in the eye (you knew there had to be at least one lame reference to the 'ode' to make it relevant). I will delve into some of the idiosyncrasies and dysfunctional aspects that make my family great. I will also talk about hot button sports topics, as they arise, which may consume this space for the foreseeable future. But mostly, I will speak to my observations of our stupid society and our obligation to each other to leave an indelible legacy and make it a more inhabitable, if not 'intelligent' place to live. Easy peasy...right?
Here's to celebrating the infancy and evolution of this wonderful project. Climb aboard and hang on. It's going to be a bumpy ride...
Until tomorrow,
Scott
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