All around the scene in front of me, people were joining me out in the parking lot surveying the damage outside. I asked a few folks how things looked in the upper floors of the building. It seems that aside from no power (although the generators were running). Apparently there is some problem with the distribution and at least I heard that the fourth floor and third floor office space was without power.
I was kind of reluctant to re-enter the building. My first inclination was to get off the property, return home and see if there was any bad news in my neighborhood. There was a light rain starting to fall and the wind was picking up again so, I reluctantly re-entered the building and checked in with the fire wardens were all trying to get a head count and see if anyone was injured. Thankfully, at least as far as I had heard, there were no injuries to anyone in the building.
I walked upstairs to see if I could help anyone within IT. I was certain because of the power outages that there was likely some system restoration underway. I found the Infrastructure manager and asked politely how things were going.
“Well, I think all the systems weathered the storm. The network however has some telecommunications issues. I think there was a problem on the third floor that still needs to be addressed. “
“I see, well, what are officially supposed to be doing right now?”
“The business continuity folks are convening and I’m sure there will be some announcements soon. Just go back to your desk and wait…”
Yeah, that should work I thought. I wandered over to my cubicle and saw that surprisingly nothing much was out of place. The side of the building my desk was situated on was away from the where the brunt of the storm passed through. I picked up the phone and found that I had a dial tone. I experimentally called my home again. My wife picked up and informed me that she had heard there were still some storms in the area that folks were being advised to stay indoors.
“Okay well, you do that. I’ll be here… for now…”
After about a half hour, we started to hear that “all non-essential personnel were allowed to leave.” We were told to check in with our supervisor and call the usual number to see if the office was going to open tomorrow.
I checked with my supervisor (by cell phone. I had no idea where he was). He said that it was fine to leave so I picked up my computer bag and other belongings and proceeded outside to my car. Once I had gotten outside I noticed that the wind had really started to blow hard again. This coupled with a fair amount of rain made me uneasy.
I had a casual conversation with some of the other staffs that were hanging out in the doorway of the building waiting to see if the rain would let up before proceeding out to the vehicles. I stubbornly chose to just walk ahead to my truck.
As I neared my truck, I saw a small woman whose car had suffered some damage and she was considering how road worthy the vehicle was. I talked with her briefly and then all of a sudden she looked up and knew something was wrong. She was staring intently over my right shoulder.
I spun around in time to see the funnel cloud forming about 100 yards away. It was hovering about 150 feet off the ground but the winds were now increasing at a frightening pace. I turned back and saw that the woman had turned and ran back towards the building.
Here we go again…
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
So...What? - Part III
The winds continued to roar outside our little stairwell refuge for what seemed like hours but was more in fact about 10 – 12 minutes. In that time frame I witnesses some of my co-workers run the entire gamut of human emotions from stark fear, to crying, hugging one another to shouting angry epitaphs to the Gods while the storm raged on.
When the storm had passed, an eerie quiet seemingly suddenly. My companions in the stairwell, on the landing and below me all raised their heads with imploring eyes. Everyone was straining to hear the sounds around us. I also took notice of others that had sought refuge in the stair well above us in at least the next two landings.
Finally a gentleman I didn’t recognize was the first to crack the door of the stairwell open and gazed out cautiously at the lobby of the building. The look on his face was indicative of the amount of damage that he was seeing for the first time and attempting to reconcile this image with the one that he obviously remembered a short time ago.
I was still sitting in a dazed shock on the first landing when the first group of folks at the base of the stairs bravely ventured forth into the lobby. I heard several “Oh my God” quotes along with “Oh no…” as the reactions began to sitting in with everyone.
After sitting there and seeing that others from the landing above were beginning to filter down, I stood up and made my way into the lobby. The first thing that struck me was the silence. There was no muzak, no white noise, no stirrings of kitchen noises coming form the cafeteria… nothing.
Most of the external windows on the side facing the front of the building were caved in and I could see and feel the breezes coming from the outside. I saw a couple of individuals that had sought refuge under the salad bar tables emerge. It seemed that the damage to the external of building was not extensive although I continued to keep my ear tuned to any groaning in the structure. Once that idea had entered my head my only thoughts were to get outside of the building. I moved towards the door to assess the effects of the storm on the outside world. I also reached for my cell phone wanting to assure myself of the fate of my family in the nearby townships.
I managed to get a call into my wife. She stated that they had some high winds but, no evidence of a wind storm on the scale of what we had experienced. She was about 30 miles west of my employer’s building and I prayed that the storm was moving west to east as most meteorological phenomenon does in this portion of the country. I told her to get into the basement and stay there for a while (just in case).
I scanned the parking lot and saw several vehicles that had been moved by the winds. Some were obviously out of place and two or three were overturned. It wasn’t clear to me yet how much of a direct hit we took.
I heard then the firing up of the diesel generators in the rear of the building and some subsequent pops of electrical equipment. I then scanned the outside of the building and saw some flames in what appeared to be the third floor on the east side of the building. Knowing that this is where our telecommunications equipment was for our data center I thought that this was not a good sign. I then did a quick thank you (sorry it was more of an afterthought) to the fates that this was not as bad of an outcome that my first usual pessimistic outlook was imagining.
When the storm had passed, an eerie quiet seemingly suddenly. My companions in the stairwell, on the landing and below me all raised their heads with imploring eyes. Everyone was straining to hear the sounds around us. I also took notice of others that had sought refuge in the stair well above us in at least the next two landings.
Finally a gentleman I didn’t recognize was the first to crack the door of the stairwell open and gazed out cautiously at the lobby of the building. The look on his face was indicative of the amount of damage that he was seeing for the first time and attempting to reconcile this image with the one that he obviously remembered a short time ago.
I was still sitting in a dazed shock on the first landing when the first group of folks at the base of the stairs bravely ventured forth into the lobby. I heard several “Oh my God” quotes along with “Oh no…” as the reactions began to sitting in with everyone.
After sitting there and seeing that others from the landing above were beginning to filter down, I stood up and made my way into the lobby. The first thing that struck me was the silence. There was no muzak, no white noise, no stirrings of kitchen noises coming form the cafeteria… nothing.
Most of the external windows on the side facing the front of the building were caved in and I could see and feel the breezes coming from the outside. I saw a couple of individuals that had sought refuge under the salad bar tables emerge. It seemed that the damage to the external of building was not extensive although I continued to keep my ear tuned to any groaning in the structure. Once that idea had entered my head my only thoughts were to get outside of the building. I moved towards the door to assess the effects of the storm on the outside world. I also reached for my cell phone wanting to assure myself of the fate of my family in the nearby townships.
I managed to get a call into my wife. She stated that they had some high winds but, no evidence of a wind storm on the scale of what we had experienced. She was about 30 miles west of my employer’s building and I prayed that the storm was moving west to east as most meteorological phenomenon does in this portion of the country. I told her to get into the basement and stay there for a while (just in case).
I scanned the parking lot and saw several vehicles that had been moved by the winds. Some were obviously out of place and two or three were overturned. It wasn’t clear to me yet how much of a direct hit we took.
I heard then the firing up of the diesel generators in the rear of the building and some subsequent pops of electrical equipment. I then scanned the outside of the building and saw some flames in what appeared to be the third floor on the east side of the building. Knowing that this is where our telecommunications equipment was for our data center I thought that this was not a good sign. I then did a quick thank you (sorry it was more of an afterthought) to the fates that this was not as bad of an outcome that my first usual pessimistic outlook was imagining.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
So... What? - Part II
At first it was hard to make out and fully grasp what I was seeing. If I didn’t know that it was early afternoon, I might have surmised that it was about 6:30 in the morning.
The horizon was obscured severely by what appeared to be very thick, ominous looking fog banks that were continuing to roll towards us. I could barely make out the outline of the guard shack that stood at the perimeter of the company’s property. As we stood there, the bright sunshine that was streaming just moments before, was now becoming almost imperceptible because of the fog.
Without feeling it, I could sense high winds accompanying the fog. There aren’t many tall trees on the property but the hedges and the light poles that were arrayed throughout the parking lot were beginning to show some straining to these elements.
I was still focused on the fog when another element of the scene in front of me began to demand some of my attention. A large cone-shaped image was emerging slowly from the fog. It seemed to take up the upper portion of the fog bank with the pointed end of the cone now lowering towards the horizon perhaps about 1/2 mile away. I could clearly make out other smaller box like objects whirling around the vortex of the cone when I knew that I was witnessing my first hurricane/tornado and it was bearing down on us quite quickly and seemingly on a direct path towards the building.
I came to this conclusion perhaps a few second ahead of the security guards that were standing along side of me and a few other gawking spectators that had gathered in lobby during this interim.
A couple of things entered my mind. We were standing in a slab constructed four story building. There was no basement or underground portion of the building to move people towards or to seek shelter. The upper floors were all encased in wrap-around glass that ran from floor to ceiling. The ground floor where we were standing was probably the most well-protected portion of the building. I’d often heard that you were supposed to seek shelter underneath archways in some internal portion of the building in such circumstances. I glanced around to see if any of the guards (or others) were looking to snap into action.
Seeing nothing of the sort, I decided that I would begin to move back into the center area of the building towards the 1st floor conference center and shoot for the stairwell as the best place to be if/when this storm was going to be hitting the building. As an aside, I shouted that I think we all might want to do the same thing and move away from the lobby, the cafeteria and all those lovely windows and head for the stairwells.
A few folks blindly followed me, a few of the guards took the prompting and began to move some folks out of the lobby. The last time I looked back, I saw that there were still a half dozen or more of folks that had remained standing stock-still continuing to gaze uncontrollably at nature’s fury when I heard the first windows breaking inwards.
I entered the stairwell and moved upwards towards the first landing. It was perhaps 12 steps but afforded anyone who was following me the opportunity to get into that space without having to step around me. There were several shocked looks on the faces of the few people that had followed my lead. I could only imagine what was evident on my own face. I’m a life time New Yorker and the specter of hurricanes or tornadoes in this region is remote at best. The only things I knew about these circumstances were what I saw portrayed in the media and in movies. I never dreamed that I would be thrust into such a situation (at least not around here).
We started to hear some shrieking and cries of fear and perhaps other emotions from the areas above and outside of the stairwell. The lights went out within a minute of the time we took our positions and in addition to the human noises, I also heard the roar of the storm rumbling seemingly all around us.
Not typically fairly religious a short prayer was running through my mind.
The horizon was obscured severely by what appeared to be very thick, ominous looking fog banks that were continuing to roll towards us. I could barely make out the outline of the guard shack that stood at the perimeter of the company’s property. As we stood there, the bright sunshine that was streaming just moments before, was now becoming almost imperceptible because of the fog.
Without feeling it, I could sense high winds accompanying the fog. There aren’t many tall trees on the property but the hedges and the light poles that were arrayed throughout the parking lot were beginning to show some straining to these elements.
I was still focused on the fog when another element of the scene in front of me began to demand some of my attention. A large cone-shaped image was emerging slowly from the fog. It seemed to take up the upper portion of the fog bank with the pointed end of the cone now lowering towards the horizon perhaps about 1/2 mile away. I could clearly make out other smaller box like objects whirling around the vortex of the cone when I knew that I was witnessing my first hurricane/tornado and it was bearing down on us quite quickly and seemingly on a direct path towards the building.
I came to this conclusion perhaps a few second ahead of the security guards that were standing along side of me and a few other gawking spectators that had gathered in lobby during this interim.
A couple of things entered my mind. We were standing in a slab constructed four story building. There was no basement or underground portion of the building to move people towards or to seek shelter. The upper floors were all encased in wrap-around glass that ran from floor to ceiling. The ground floor where we were standing was probably the most well-protected portion of the building. I’d often heard that you were supposed to seek shelter underneath archways in some internal portion of the building in such circumstances. I glanced around to see if any of the guards (or others) were looking to snap into action.
Seeing nothing of the sort, I decided that I would begin to move back into the center area of the building towards the 1st floor conference center and shoot for the stairwell as the best place to be if/when this storm was going to be hitting the building. As an aside, I shouted that I think we all might want to do the same thing and move away from the lobby, the cafeteria and all those lovely windows and head for the stairwells.
A few folks blindly followed me, a few of the guards took the prompting and began to move some folks out of the lobby. The last time I looked back, I saw that there were still a half dozen or more of folks that had remained standing stock-still continuing to gaze uncontrollably at nature’s fury when I heard the first windows breaking inwards.
I entered the stairwell and moved upwards towards the first landing. It was perhaps 12 steps but afforded anyone who was following me the opportunity to get into that space without having to step around me. There were several shocked looks on the faces of the few people that had followed my lead. I could only imagine what was evident on my own face. I’m a life time New Yorker and the specter of hurricanes or tornadoes in this region is remote at best. The only things I knew about these circumstances were what I saw portrayed in the media and in movies. I never dreamed that I would be thrust into such a situation (at least not around here).
We started to hear some shrieking and cries of fear and perhaps other emotions from the areas above and outside of the stairwell. The lights went out within a minute of the time we took our positions and in addition to the human noises, I also heard the roar of the storm rumbling seemingly all around us.
Not typically fairly religious a short prayer was running through my mind.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
So... What? - Part I
So what’s it going to be today? A story, a poem, a rant, a soapbox spiel?
Egads man this is going to be a tough one today. Not really in touch with the muse at all. Must push through that resistance though… Part of the program, yes it ‘tis.
We could revisit our friends at the “Hungry Iguana”, work on the memoirs, perhaps an update on the state of the state with regards to views on current affairs, The “Elusive Headpin” has been more elusive of late. No, I don’t think I want to go down any of these streets today.
Something new, some path not tread upon of late.
There once was a man from Nantucket…
Only kidding….
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away… No, that’s been done to death… star…
These are the times that try men’s soul… A screaming comes across the sky… Call me Ishmael… It was a bright cold day in April and the clocks were striking thirteen… I have never begun a novel with more misgiving… This is a tale of two cities… Once upon a time… I am a sick man, a spiteful man…This winter of discontent… Doc it hurts when I do this… Two Jews walked into a bar…
Okay, okay… all seriousness aside, here we go…
It began quite simply as most complex things do. We were sitting in the company cafeteria when I spotted a group of our crack security folks pointing and gesticulating frantically out of the front entrance of the building outwards towards the parking lot. Since it was a bright, sunny day, all the blinds had been drawn on the windows in the dining room so there was no clear way to discern what phenomenon was drawing the security staff’s interest.
Since I had pretty much finished my meal, I stood and walked slowly over to the trash receptacles and then wandered towards the front lobby. As I approached, it became apparent (to me) that the guards were also quite puzzled at whatever they were watching.
As I neared the front desk, I nodded towards the receptionist who was also staring with rapt attention in the same general direction as the guards. So, as casually as I could muster, I approached the group and looked out of the front entranceway of the building.
It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the difference in the lighting between the artificial lighting that was in the lobby and the bright sunlight that was streaming in from outside. It took a few more seconds for my mind to comprehend fully what I was seeing out there in the autumn sunshine…
Egads man this is going to be a tough one today. Not really in touch with the muse at all. Must push through that resistance though… Part of the program, yes it ‘tis.
We could revisit our friends at the “Hungry Iguana”, work on the memoirs, perhaps an update on the state of the state with regards to views on current affairs, The “Elusive Headpin” has been more elusive of late. No, I don’t think I want to go down any of these streets today.
Something new, some path not tread upon of late.
There once was a man from Nantucket…
Only kidding….
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away… No, that’s been done to death… star…
These are the times that try men’s soul… A screaming comes across the sky… Call me Ishmael… It was a bright cold day in April and the clocks were striking thirteen… I have never begun a novel with more misgiving… This is a tale of two cities… Once upon a time… I am a sick man, a spiteful man…This winter of discontent… Doc it hurts when I do this… Two Jews walked into a bar…
Okay, okay… all seriousness aside, here we go…
It began quite simply as most complex things do. We were sitting in the company cafeteria when I spotted a group of our crack security folks pointing and gesticulating frantically out of the front entrance of the building outwards towards the parking lot. Since it was a bright, sunny day, all the blinds had been drawn on the windows in the dining room so there was no clear way to discern what phenomenon was drawing the security staff’s interest.
Since I had pretty much finished my meal, I stood and walked slowly over to the trash receptacles and then wandered towards the front lobby. As I approached, it became apparent (to me) that the guards were also quite puzzled at whatever they were watching.
As I neared the front desk, I nodded towards the receptionist who was also staring with rapt attention in the same general direction as the guards. So, as casually as I could muster, I approached the group and looked out of the front entranceway of the building.
It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the difference in the lighting between the artificial lighting that was in the lobby and the bright sunlight that was streaming in from outside. It took a few more seconds for my mind to comprehend fully what I was seeing out there in the autumn sunshine…
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
The wait
A weight thrown off
is like a muscle grown
a sleek new strength revealed.
Light first seen
from darkened room
burns eyes like tungsten fire.
The voice you hear
when it comes to break
The longest silence sings
a true sweet song
of restful sleep
after fitful nights of fear.
From swirling mire comes
her softly chiding voice
and whispers in my ear
Wake up my love
for dark is fled
and all has been a dream.
is like a muscle grown
a sleek new strength revealed.
Light first seen
from darkened room
burns eyes like tungsten fire.
The voice you hear
when it comes to break
The longest silence sings
a true sweet song
of restful sleep
after fitful nights of fear.
From swirling mire comes
her softly chiding voice
and whispers in my ear
Wake up my love
for dark is fled
and all has been a dream.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Urban Evening - Conclusion
It was a strange little standoff that was taking place. We had two ruffians that looked like they stepped out of some gang movie. They were being confronted by an almost classic “98 pound weakling” who was accusing of violence against an unseen (by us) friend back in the park. We also had a bleeding street urchin who claimed he was the second coming of our lord and savior… oh, and me. At that point, I was cursing whatever desire that caused me to want to take a late night stroll in the autumn air that point in this strange and rather frightening position.
I was attempting to assess everyone’s foot speed and was looking for an opportune break in the standoff that might yield an exit path for me when “Christ” spoke yet again.
“Come now son, you don’t want to hurt anyone…” he was addressing the large young black man who was brandishing the knife. He offered a hand towards the young man as the thug, at that moment, swiped at him with the knife. “Christ” was now bleeding from both palms openly. The street urchin who called himself “Jesus Christ” was beginning to resemble the crucified savior with the visible wounds he was now suffering.
At that point, the other skinny young white man who was making the accusations jumped the black guy from behind causing him to lose his hold on the knife. The Hispanic thug then moved to assist his comrade when I saw the police cruiser on the avenue swinging down in our direction. I yelled “The cops are coming!” and then to make sure that this statement was true I moved out into the street waving my arms frantically.
The Hispanic thug took off on a dead run back into the park. The Black man shrugged off his would-be assailant easily (as if throwing off an extra shirt because he was too warm) and began to move after him. “Christ” then shouted “Wait my sons, come back…you needn’t run…”
The police car pulled up to the curb and jumped out with quizzical looks on their faces but guns drawn. The skinny white kid was picking himself up off the sidewalk (again). He had suffered some bad scrapes on his arms and a torn knee but was still anxious to get the attention of the peace officers.
“Jesus Christ” was moving back into the park at a slow trot. He had to have lost a fair amount of blood but he seemingly has taken no notice of this. I was torn between wanting to get the police officers up to speed on the situation and needing to keep an eye on “Jesus” to make sure he got some medical attention. Since the skinny white guy was holding their attention and no doubt was telling them of impending evil in the park, I moved after our erstwhile savior.
I caught up to “Jesus” rather easily because within three strides of the entrance to the park he had tripped and was laying in the grass with his legs still attempting to run. He looked like a child’s wind up toy that had lost its balance and was flailing away on its side. As I looked at him in the dim light of the entranceway lamps that were a function of the two pillers that made up the archway into the park, I could see his feet were also bleeding… perhaps as a result of him losing his sandals somewhere in the struggle and perhaps he had stubbed them badly on one of the rocks that lined the walkway. As I knelt down to him he looked up to me and said “What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world but loses his soul?”
A chill ran through me. I recalled those words somewhere back in my latent Catholic upbringing.
I told him “Take it easy, I’m sure the police will catch up with them…. Just stay with me…”
To which he replied… “ Yes I am with you always, until the very end of time.”
Okay, now I’m getting even more weirded out. I looked at him in his dirty rags bleeding from his hands and feet, laying on the ground quoting scripture.
I cried out to no one in particular “Hey, I think we need some medical attention here…! Anyone around? Please call an ambulance!!”
The police had caught up with the large black kid and was leading back to where we were laying in the grass. The cop looked down at the two of us and said…”I got this one. Can someone tell me what the heck is going on?”
To which my fallen comrade replied “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.”
I was attempting to assess everyone’s foot speed and was looking for an opportune break in the standoff that might yield an exit path for me when “Christ” spoke yet again.
“Come now son, you don’t want to hurt anyone…” he was addressing the large young black man who was brandishing the knife. He offered a hand towards the young man as the thug, at that moment, swiped at him with the knife. “Christ” was now bleeding from both palms openly. The street urchin who called himself “Jesus Christ” was beginning to resemble the crucified savior with the visible wounds he was now suffering.
At that point, the other skinny young white man who was making the accusations jumped the black guy from behind causing him to lose his hold on the knife. The Hispanic thug then moved to assist his comrade when I saw the police cruiser on the avenue swinging down in our direction. I yelled “The cops are coming!” and then to make sure that this statement was true I moved out into the street waving my arms frantically.
The Hispanic thug took off on a dead run back into the park. The Black man shrugged off his would-be assailant easily (as if throwing off an extra shirt because he was too warm) and began to move after him. “Christ” then shouted “Wait my sons, come back…you needn’t run…”
The police car pulled up to the curb and jumped out with quizzical looks on their faces but guns drawn. The skinny white kid was picking himself up off the sidewalk (again). He had suffered some bad scrapes on his arms and a torn knee but was still anxious to get the attention of the peace officers.
“Jesus Christ” was moving back into the park at a slow trot. He had to have lost a fair amount of blood but he seemingly has taken no notice of this. I was torn between wanting to get the police officers up to speed on the situation and needing to keep an eye on “Jesus” to make sure he got some medical attention. Since the skinny white guy was holding their attention and no doubt was telling them of impending evil in the park, I moved after our erstwhile savior.
I caught up to “Jesus” rather easily because within three strides of the entrance to the park he had tripped and was laying in the grass with his legs still attempting to run. He looked like a child’s wind up toy that had lost its balance and was flailing away on its side. As I looked at him in the dim light of the entranceway lamps that were a function of the two pillers that made up the archway into the park, I could see his feet were also bleeding… perhaps as a result of him losing his sandals somewhere in the struggle and perhaps he had stubbed them badly on one of the rocks that lined the walkway. As I knelt down to him he looked up to me and said “What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world but loses his soul?”
A chill ran through me. I recalled those words somewhere back in my latent Catholic upbringing.
I told him “Take it easy, I’m sure the police will catch up with them…. Just stay with me…”
To which he replied… “ Yes I am with you always, until the very end of time.”
Okay, now I’m getting even more weirded out. I looked at him in his dirty rags bleeding from his hands and feet, laying on the ground quoting scripture.
I cried out to no one in particular “Hey, I think we need some medical attention here…! Anyone around? Please call an ambulance!!”
The police had caught up with the large black kid and was leading back to where we were laying in the grass. The cop looked down at the two of us and said…”I got this one. Can someone tell me what the heck is going on?”
To which my fallen comrade replied “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.”
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Urban Evening - Part II
I heard them before we saw them. There was a low rhythmic rumbling that was emanating from some boom box with a prominent bass rattle that was too much for the speaker trying to convey the sound. You could hear the buzzing from the plastic case of the stereo player with every low note played.
Two youths came lumbering up from the park toward the entranceway where we were standing. The first one a very large black kid a wearing cut off sweatshirt and baggy pants with what appeared to be a skateboard tucked into the rear of the pants. The other kid, a tad skinnier light skinned Hispanic with visible body piercing, a large scar on the left side of his face and tattoos on his forearms was carrying the boom box. They both had the expression of mild annoyance with something. They carried themselves with almost a tired resigned body language as if they had many miles to go before they could rest.
As they reached the avenue and passed us, a skinny little white boy came running around the corner and shoved the large black man.
“Yo, where do you think you’re going…!! You just can’t walk away from this!”
“Get outta our way dude, I don’t know you. Why are you getting up in my grill?”
“I saw you… I saw what you did to Brian. He’s lying back there near the fountain. He needs medical attention, if you don’t help, I’m going to call the police.” The white kid whined.
“I told you to get of my way little man. I don’t want to hafta cut ya or nothing…” The black kid growled.
The white kid was persistent. He continued to run around the two youths attempting to block their progress.
All of a sudden a knife appeared. The black was brandishing it in the white boy’s face.
“You see this dude? You want some of this…? Get outta the way!” and he shoved the white kid hard. The white boy stumbled off the sidewalk and rolled to the ground. The other two turned and looked like they were going to be moving on down the avenue.
That’s when “Jesus” scooted away from me and confronted the two rough looking youths.
“Excuse me son but violence is never the way to achieve anything.”
“Stay out of this Christ… you don’t know what’s going on here…” said the Hispanic kid.
I thought…they know one another… they addressed him as “Christ” or was that a cursing… It took me a minute to process that.
“Come on Jesus, let’s head over to Mercy and see if we can get someone to look at your hand…” I offered.
It was then that the black kid seemed to notice me for the first time.
“Hey old man, what the heck do you think you’re doing…”
“Nothing… I just was attempting to help. He’s hurt… “ Indicating my new acquaintance “Jesus”.
“Hey, you got any money. We need to get a ride back to our hood… Can you give us bus fare…?
That’s when Jesus spoke back up and moved himself between the big kid and myself. The skinny white kid had also picked himself back up and was walking towards the group.
“Jesus” said…” Brother, please put away the knife and let’s talk.”
“Ain’t nothing to talk about. I need to get some money to catch a bus, it’s getting late.”
“It’s never too late to do the right thing.” “Jesus” said.
I began to edge my way away from the group and contemplated seriously whether I could out run these folks.
Two youths came lumbering up from the park toward the entranceway where we were standing. The first one a very large black kid a wearing cut off sweatshirt and baggy pants with what appeared to be a skateboard tucked into the rear of the pants. The other kid, a tad skinnier light skinned Hispanic with visible body piercing, a large scar on the left side of his face and tattoos on his forearms was carrying the boom box. They both had the expression of mild annoyance with something. They carried themselves with almost a tired resigned body language as if they had many miles to go before they could rest.
As they reached the avenue and passed us, a skinny little white boy came running around the corner and shoved the large black man.
“Yo, where do you think you’re going…!! You just can’t walk away from this!”
“Get outta our way dude, I don’t know you. Why are you getting up in my grill?”
“I saw you… I saw what you did to Brian. He’s lying back there near the fountain. He needs medical attention, if you don’t help, I’m going to call the police.” The white kid whined.
“I told you to get of my way little man. I don’t want to hafta cut ya or nothing…” The black kid growled.
The white kid was persistent. He continued to run around the two youths attempting to block their progress.
All of a sudden a knife appeared. The black was brandishing it in the white boy’s face.
“You see this dude? You want some of this…? Get outta the way!” and he shoved the white kid hard. The white boy stumbled off the sidewalk and rolled to the ground. The other two turned and looked like they were going to be moving on down the avenue.
That’s when “Jesus” scooted away from me and confronted the two rough looking youths.
“Excuse me son but violence is never the way to achieve anything.”
“Stay out of this Christ… you don’t know what’s going on here…” said the Hispanic kid.
I thought…they know one another… they addressed him as “Christ” or was that a cursing… It took me a minute to process that.
“Come on Jesus, let’s head over to Mercy and see if we can get someone to look at your hand…” I offered.
It was then that the black kid seemed to notice me for the first time.
“Hey old man, what the heck do you think you’re doing…”
“Nothing… I just was attempting to help. He’s hurt… “ Indicating my new acquaintance “Jesus”.
“Hey, you got any money. We need to get a ride back to our hood… Can you give us bus fare…?
That’s when Jesus spoke back up and moved himself between the big kid and myself. The skinny white kid had also picked himself back up and was walking towards the group.
“Jesus” said…” Brother, please put away the knife and let’s talk.”
“Ain’t nothing to talk about. I need to get some money to catch a bus, it’s getting late.”
“It’s never too late to do the right thing.” “Jesus” said.
I began to edge my way away from the group and contemplated seriously whether I could out run these folks.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Urban Evening - Part 1
It started with my being restless one evening and deciding that I needed to get some air.
I left my apartment and strolled down the street to one of the avenues in this city, the air was crisp and cool. I noted that even after I became an adult, it always seems to be noticeably cooler once school begins in September.
I reached the main avenue and swung right. The foot traffic on the avenue was still fairly heavy despite the late hour. The marquees over the theatres were lit brightly advertising the latest releases that were showing along with the times and matinees that were to be featured on the upcoming weekend.
There were a small group of folks huddled on the corner outside a convenience store’s front. Typical teenage or young adult kids who were enjoying the night air and perhaps being out of earshot of their parents / other friends / teachers / roommates whatever. The topic of conversation apparently was an amusing one because they all seemed to be enjoying a laugh after someone’s story. A couple of the kids had soda bottles in their hands and were swigging from them as they listened. A couple of heads were bobbing to the beat of an unseen boom box.
As I passed this group I spied a cab driver in the next block enjoying a break, leaning up against his cab sipping coffee and smoking. He gave me a nod as I passed and we exchanged pleasantries. The wind had picked up a little and I saw some discarded newspaper that were swirling around over one of the steam grates that were in the sidewalk ahead of me.
After I had walked perhaps three blocks I was approaching the park. I could make out the shadows of some of the statues that stood seemingly as sentries at the corner entrance. It was then that I met him…
He was more than a tad grungy, pushing shopping cart down the path out of the park. It appeared that he was searching the ground for spare change, discarded cans or bottles, or whatever he could find that was of use. When he saw me, he looked up and said “Could you tell me how to get to the waterfront? The docks? I need to catch up with someone…”
I told him that the waterfront was quite a walk but that he was heading in the right direction.
He then added, “I gotta ask them why they did this…” at that point he held up a bloody hand. It appeared that he had a nasty looking cut that ranged from one side of his palm almost to the thumb.
I was startled at the sight of the blood and recoiled visibly from him as he continued to approach me.
“You should seek some medical attention rather than going to the docks.” I offered. “Why don’t you head over to Mercy General in the next two blocks and see if someone can look at that, you might need some stitches…”
“Aw, this ain’t nothin’. They can’t hurt me, I’m Jesus Christ.”
Uh huh, I see I thought. So we might be in need of more than one kind of medical attention here.
“Well, all the more reason you should head over to Mercy General. I know the clergy there and he would be thrilled to meet you.”
“Really, you think…” He grinned. “I’d do that but, I’m really in a hurry. I’m afraid that they would take up too much time. I don’t want to be late.”
“Late? I didn’t know you had an appointment. I thought you were going to just ask them why they attempted to hurt you.”
At no point in this interaction did I feel threatened but that was soon to change.
I left my apartment and strolled down the street to one of the avenues in this city, the air was crisp and cool. I noted that even after I became an adult, it always seems to be noticeably cooler once school begins in September.
I reached the main avenue and swung right. The foot traffic on the avenue was still fairly heavy despite the late hour. The marquees over the theatres were lit brightly advertising the latest releases that were showing along with the times and matinees that were to be featured on the upcoming weekend.
There were a small group of folks huddled on the corner outside a convenience store’s front. Typical teenage or young adult kids who were enjoying the night air and perhaps being out of earshot of their parents / other friends / teachers / roommates whatever. The topic of conversation apparently was an amusing one because they all seemed to be enjoying a laugh after someone’s story. A couple of the kids had soda bottles in their hands and were swigging from them as they listened. A couple of heads were bobbing to the beat of an unseen boom box.
As I passed this group I spied a cab driver in the next block enjoying a break, leaning up against his cab sipping coffee and smoking. He gave me a nod as I passed and we exchanged pleasantries. The wind had picked up a little and I saw some discarded newspaper that were swirling around over one of the steam grates that were in the sidewalk ahead of me.
After I had walked perhaps three blocks I was approaching the park. I could make out the shadows of some of the statues that stood seemingly as sentries at the corner entrance. It was then that I met him…
He was more than a tad grungy, pushing shopping cart down the path out of the park. It appeared that he was searching the ground for spare change, discarded cans or bottles, or whatever he could find that was of use. When he saw me, he looked up and said “Could you tell me how to get to the waterfront? The docks? I need to catch up with someone…”
I told him that the waterfront was quite a walk but that he was heading in the right direction.
He then added, “I gotta ask them why they did this…” at that point he held up a bloody hand. It appeared that he had a nasty looking cut that ranged from one side of his palm almost to the thumb.
I was startled at the sight of the blood and recoiled visibly from him as he continued to approach me.
“You should seek some medical attention rather than going to the docks.” I offered. “Why don’t you head over to Mercy General in the next two blocks and see if someone can look at that, you might need some stitches…”
“Aw, this ain’t nothin’. They can’t hurt me, I’m Jesus Christ.”
Uh huh, I see I thought. So we might be in need of more than one kind of medical attention here.
“Well, all the more reason you should head over to Mercy General. I know the clergy there and he would be thrilled to meet you.”
“Really, you think…” He grinned. “I’d do that but, I’m really in a hurry. I’m afraid that they would take up too much time. I don’t want to be late.”
“Late? I didn’t know you had an appointment. I thought you were going to just ask them why they attempted to hurt you.”
At no point in this interaction did I feel threatened but that was soon to change.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Elusive Headpin - Part XIII
“So, it seems that half of us have kept at this and half have not…” Randy stated
“Yep, that certainly seems to be the case. I’m surprised. How do you guys continue to find time for this? My problem with finding any time for recreation is pure logistics.” I commented.
We bowled the first five frames and Ray and Ron carried their respective teammates (Randy and I respectively) so that the score was relatively close. A mere three pins separated the two teams.
In the sixth frame, the roles reversed and the two bowlers that were least practiced took the role of being the lead bowler (first ball shot). Randy threw a shot that skidded off to the left of the headpin and left a 1-3-6-10 fence post for his partner and Ray was equal to that task. My first shot in that sixth frame just missed the head pin but on the right side of the rack leaving 1-2 spare shot that Ron made quick work of.
The seventh was similar and that’s when we started joking about that darn ol’ elusive headpin. Since neither Randy or I could find the pocket leaving a wide selection of sloppy spare shots for their partners.
Going into the tenth frame, we were still three pins apart (Ron and I were leading). Randy started down the approach and much to all of our surprise, threw a beautiful shot that hooked nicely into the pocket yielding a strike. His follow-up to that strike was a solid 9 pin pickup leaving a ten pin for Ray to pick up.
Which meant that we had to at least get a mark in the tenth frame to equal or beat our opponents. I wiped down the ball and tried to focus on at least getting a decent frist shot in. Since it seemed my shots were consistently coming up just shy on the right side of the pocket. I moved over a board and tossed a shot that summarily hooked much to severely picking up only three pins. My partner glared at me because of his always competitive nature he focused and did make a nice recovery picking up the remaining seven pins in a nicely executed shot. He grinned and said “Well, Jim all you have to do is get four pins to tie but, lets try to do a little better than that… k?”
“Sure no prob…” although I had no idea where these shots were likely to end up nor would I be banking on my ability to actually pick up those four pins on demand.
As I stepped up onto the approach, I tried to clear my head and focus on my “normal” sites on the lanes. I began to make my approach but, a little girl that was bowling in the adjacent lane took that opportunity to fall down dropping her ball onto the approach with a loud thud just to my left and slightly out of my peripheral vision. I stopped my legs but had difficulty actually stopping the forward action of my arm and let go of my ball several feet in front of the foul line and at a much slower pace than I would ever had done had no distraction took place.
We all could only stand and watch as my ball slowly rolled down over the second to last arrow on the right. It rolled pretty straight but casually looked like it might be veering off slightly to the right (which was a very bad thing indeed). As the ball reached the pins the only question was would it get four pins (or less). Unfortunately, it was less. The shot only yielded two pins. The final score showed that Ron and I lost by a mere two pins.
Ron scolded me and said that I should have stopped completely once the distraction took place and started over.
“Yeah, well it’s only a game…” I commented. That went over well…
Our old friends basically had a good laugh at my expense.
“Yep, that certainly seems to be the case. I’m surprised. How do you guys continue to find time for this? My problem with finding any time for recreation is pure logistics.” I commented.
We bowled the first five frames and Ray and Ron carried their respective teammates (Randy and I respectively) so that the score was relatively close. A mere three pins separated the two teams.
In the sixth frame, the roles reversed and the two bowlers that were least practiced took the role of being the lead bowler (first ball shot). Randy threw a shot that skidded off to the left of the headpin and left a 1-3-6-10 fence post for his partner and Ray was equal to that task. My first shot in that sixth frame just missed the head pin but on the right side of the rack leaving 1-2 spare shot that Ron made quick work of.
The seventh was similar and that’s when we started joking about that darn ol’ elusive headpin. Since neither Randy or I could find the pocket leaving a wide selection of sloppy spare shots for their partners.
Going into the tenth frame, we were still three pins apart (Ron and I were leading). Randy started down the approach and much to all of our surprise, threw a beautiful shot that hooked nicely into the pocket yielding a strike. His follow-up to that strike was a solid 9 pin pickup leaving a ten pin for Ray to pick up.
Which meant that we had to at least get a mark in the tenth frame to equal or beat our opponents. I wiped down the ball and tried to focus on at least getting a decent frist shot in. Since it seemed my shots were consistently coming up just shy on the right side of the pocket. I moved over a board and tossed a shot that summarily hooked much to severely picking up only three pins. My partner glared at me because of his always competitive nature he focused and did make a nice recovery picking up the remaining seven pins in a nicely executed shot. He grinned and said “Well, Jim all you have to do is get four pins to tie but, lets try to do a little better than that… k?”
“Sure no prob…” although I had no idea where these shots were likely to end up nor would I be banking on my ability to actually pick up those four pins on demand.
As I stepped up onto the approach, I tried to clear my head and focus on my “normal” sites on the lanes. I began to make my approach but, a little girl that was bowling in the adjacent lane took that opportunity to fall down dropping her ball onto the approach with a loud thud just to my left and slightly out of my peripheral vision. I stopped my legs but had difficulty actually stopping the forward action of my arm and let go of my ball several feet in front of the foul line and at a much slower pace than I would ever had done had no distraction took place.
We all could only stand and watch as my ball slowly rolled down over the second to last arrow on the right. It rolled pretty straight but casually looked like it might be veering off slightly to the right (which was a very bad thing indeed). As the ball reached the pins the only question was would it get four pins (or less). Unfortunately, it was less. The shot only yielded two pins. The final score showed that Ron and I lost by a mere two pins.
Ron scolded me and said that I should have stopped completely once the distraction took place and started over.
“Yeah, well it’s only a game…” I commented. That went over well…
Our old friends basically had a good laugh at my expense.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Rant 2
Well we’ve seen this before. It seems that the whole debate regarding universal health care is being resisted based on a lot of fear.
Fear of the cost
Fear of the “government gettin’ into our bizness”
Fear of losing the coverage I have
Fear of death panels
Fear of change
How about simply focusing on why the US is ranked 37th in the world in their health care system (last WHO report)? We are ranked one slot below Costa Rica, seven slots lower than Canada and a full 10 slots below the United Arab Emirates.
I have an idea. Why don’t we attempt to emulate programs like those found in France, Italy, Spain (ranked 1st, 2nd, and 7th respectively) according to the last ranking by the World Health Organization. Despite our health system being the most costly, we fail to score high on performance based on access, equity and health outcomes because we fail to find some way to offer a universal health care option for it’s populace.
In a study done by The Commonwealth Fund (www.commonwealthfund.org)…” Among the six nations studied – Australia, Canada, Germany, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and the United States – The US ranks last, as it did in the 2006 and 2004 editions of “Mirror, Mirror”. Most troubling, the US fails to achieve better health outcomes than the other countries, as shown in the earlier editions (of the study), the US is last on dimensions of access, patient safety, efficiency, and equity.
With the inclusion of physician survey data in the analysis, it is also apparent that the US is lagging in adoption of Information Technology and national policies that promote quality improvement.
I think rather than fear mongering and catering to special interests, we should approach this subject with an open mind with the ultimate goal of helping all persons in the country by developing a framework that assists (rather than hinders) access while driving down costs.
This is one of the few developed countries that almost penalizes a potential patient if they have the audacity to get sick or injured during “off-hours”, on a weekend or holiday. Because doing so almost guarantees that they will receive substandard treatment based on the staffing and ability to get procedures “pre-approved” and other “managed care processes” completed.
Wake up folks. This is an issue. It won’t “go away” and will affect all folks regardless of social stature or economic standing. A solution needs to be developed and endorsed by the people and our legislators. We can’t wait for the medical industry to endorse anything as they obviously have benefited by the present “pay as you go piece-meal” system in place today.
The reason Medicare works is that there is perhaps a 3.5% surcharge on base medical costs for the purpose of administration. In comparison, standard healthcare provided through Insurance companies yields a much higher administration fee… (some estimates I’ve seen put it in the 10% - 15% range). This is huge and adds no discernable value to the process or the service.
Their needs to be public option in any “reform” that Washington considers. I only hope that the message isn’t blunted by self-serving bureaucrats in an attempt to maintain the status quo.
Fear of the cost
Fear of the “government gettin’ into our bizness”
Fear of losing the coverage I have
Fear of death panels
Fear of change
How about simply focusing on why the US is ranked 37th in the world in their health care system (last WHO report)? We are ranked one slot below Costa Rica, seven slots lower than Canada and a full 10 slots below the United Arab Emirates.
I have an idea. Why don’t we attempt to emulate programs like those found in France, Italy, Spain (ranked 1st, 2nd, and 7th respectively) according to the last ranking by the World Health Organization. Despite our health system being the most costly, we fail to score high on performance based on access, equity and health outcomes because we fail to find some way to offer a universal health care option for it’s populace.
In a study done by The Commonwealth Fund (www.commonwealthfund.org)…” Among the six nations studied – Australia, Canada, Germany, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and the United States – The US ranks last, as it did in the 2006 and 2004 editions of “Mirror, Mirror”. Most troubling, the US fails to achieve better health outcomes than the other countries, as shown in the earlier editions (of the study), the US is last on dimensions of access, patient safety, efficiency, and equity.
With the inclusion of physician survey data in the analysis, it is also apparent that the US is lagging in adoption of Information Technology and national policies that promote quality improvement.
I think rather than fear mongering and catering to special interests, we should approach this subject with an open mind with the ultimate goal of helping all persons in the country by developing a framework that assists (rather than hinders) access while driving down costs.
This is one of the few developed countries that almost penalizes a potential patient if they have the audacity to get sick or injured during “off-hours”, on a weekend or holiday. Because doing so almost guarantees that they will receive substandard treatment based on the staffing and ability to get procedures “pre-approved” and other “managed care processes” completed.
Wake up folks. This is an issue. It won’t “go away” and will affect all folks regardless of social stature or economic standing. A solution needs to be developed and endorsed by the people and our legislators. We can’t wait for the medical industry to endorse anything as they obviously have benefited by the present “pay as you go piece-meal” system in place today.
The reason Medicare works is that there is perhaps a 3.5% surcharge on base medical costs for the purpose of administration. In comparison, standard healthcare provided through Insurance companies yields a much higher administration fee… (some estimates I’ve seen put it in the 10% - 15% range). This is huge and adds no discernable value to the process or the service.
Their needs to be public option in any “reform” that Washington considers. I only hope that the message isn’t blunted by self-serving bureaucrats in an attempt to maintain the status quo.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Exercise 1
A Start
Waking to baking going on in the kitchen.
Smells that tell of homemade bread in the oven
Sounds I’ve found are portending bacon in the frying pan
Feels like it’s really time to be getting up
I see that we are about to have breakfast
A taste of less haste would be a welcome beginning to the day.
Close your eyes
Close your eyes and feel the keys beneath your fingers. Let ‘em stray where they will. Let them say what they can. I’m trying to let the flow not be a foe. Become a thing that is organic and not planned.
It surely seems like a touch typist would have a better time of this than I…
I think of times long past and find myself pining for the simplicity but not the limitations that those times presented.
Whrrrr, click, buzz and bump.
Run and scream and skip and jump
This is fun and scary. I’m not sure I’m being entirely true to the exercise but at least I’m attempting to follow the spirit of the exercise..
Where do you think this will lead?
Staring at the white wall. I need to keep my back straight and the thoughts pure.
I just need to keep plodding along.
Waking to baking going on in the kitchen.
Smells that tell of homemade bread in the oven
Sounds I’ve found are portending bacon in the frying pan
Feels like it’s really time to be getting up
I see that we are about to have breakfast
A taste of less haste would be a welcome beginning to the day.
Close your eyes
Close your eyes and feel the keys beneath your fingers. Let ‘em stray where they will. Let them say what they can. I’m trying to let the flow not be a foe. Become a thing that is organic and not planned.
It surely seems like a touch typist would have a better time of this than I…
I think of times long past and find myself pining for the simplicity but not the limitations that those times presented.
Whrrrr, click, buzz and bump.
Run and scream and skip and jump
This is fun and scary. I’m not sure I’m being entirely true to the exercise but at least I’m attempting to follow the spirit of the exercise..
Where do you think this will lead?
Staring at the white wall. I need to keep my back straight and the thoughts pure.
I just need to keep plodding along.
Friday, September 11, 2009
9/11 - Remembered
It’s hard to believe that eight years has past since that fateful day. I still recall the horror and the feeling of helplessness as the world watched what transpired in New York City, Washington, and Pennsylvania.
I was actually traveling that week and was in Washington attending a training class that day a few miles from the Pentagon. It was during a break in the class that someone said, “Hey look at this!”. They had surfed to a site that had pictures of the first plane hitting the twin towers. At that point, it appeared to be only a horrid accident. Within minutes though we heard of the second plane into the World Trade Center and then the plane crashing into the Pentagon a few miles away. We knew then that these couldn’t be mere accidents. That awful realization drummed up a singular feeling of dread that we all shared, tasted and had to react to.
The training class I was in was summarily dismissed with the message “It might be canceled altogether but, please access this web site this evening for more information”. At that point, the class was certainly the furthest thing from our minds…as the first tower fell.
The traffic in and around Washington DC became an almost instant snarl. Every major artery was filled with cars trying to get out of the Washington DC metro area. Back to loved ones, to safety… just away.
I had no means to immediately get mobile. Nor did I have any inclination to do so. Like many other folks in that situation, I spent the rest of that day in a hotel bar staring at CNN, watching the next tower fall and hearing of all the other related activities that were transpiring around the country.
Surely this was something that would not go unanswered. We needed / wanted to know who was responsible and who were are adversaries. The term “Terrorist” wasn’t something we were used to discussing on American soil. The news agencies reminded us of the bombing at the world trade center back in the early 1990’s. I had forgotten that incident, (almost) this was surely something we all would never forget.
In all, I’m told that just shy of 3,000 people last their lives that day including the 19 hijackers. This is a staggering one day death toll regardless of circumstances but, even more galling because of the manner and targets chosen for this attack. In the days, weeks and months to come we would become very acquainted with the Al-Qaeda terrorist organization which have become the boogyman in this episode. The quest to find their leader, Osama bin Laden, and bringing him to face the charges for this attack became synonymous with reasons to go to war with Iraq/Afghanistan and the beginnings of the “War on Teror” which we are still embroiled with today.
We shall never forget this event or the way it has shaped the balance of the past decade. It has surely changed the way we look upon much of our daily lives and the way we view the world.
I was actually traveling that week and was in Washington attending a training class that day a few miles from the Pentagon. It was during a break in the class that someone said, “Hey look at this!”. They had surfed to a site that had pictures of the first plane hitting the twin towers. At that point, it appeared to be only a horrid accident. Within minutes though we heard of the second plane into the World Trade Center and then the plane crashing into the Pentagon a few miles away. We knew then that these couldn’t be mere accidents. That awful realization drummed up a singular feeling of dread that we all shared, tasted and had to react to.
The training class I was in was summarily dismissed with the message “It might be canceled altogether but, please access this web site this evening for more information”. At that point, the class was certainly the furthest thing from our minds…as the first tower fell.
The traffic in and around Washington DC became an almost instant snarl. Every major artery was filled with cars trying to get out of the Washington DC metro area. Back to loved ones, to safety… just away.
I had no means to immediately get mobile. Nor did I have any inclination to do so. Like many other folks in that situation, I spent the rest of that day in a hotel bar staring at CNN, watching the next tower fall and hearing of all the other related activities that were transpiring around the country.
Surely this was something that would not go unanswered. We needed / wanted to know who was responsible and who were are adversaries. The term “Terrorist” wasn’t something we were used to discussing on American soil. The news agencies reminded us of the bombing at the world trade center back in the early 1990’s. I had forgotten that incident, (almost) this was surely something we all would never forget.
In all, I’m told that just shy of 3,000 people last their lives that day including the 19 hijackers. This is a staggering one day death toll regardless of circumstances but, even more galling because of the manner and targets chosen for this attack. In the days, weeks and months to come we would become very acquainted with the Al-Qaeda terrorist organization which have become the boogyman in this episode. The quest to find their leader, Osama bin Laden, and bringing him to face the charges for this attack became synonymous with reasons to go to war with Iraq/Afghanistan and the beginnings of the “War on Teror” which we are still embroiled with today.
We shall never forget this event or the way it has shaped the balance of the past decade. It has surely changed the way we look upon much of our daily lives and the way we view the world.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Rant 1
There are many challenges for mankind in the future. The hopes and aspirations of the “hippie generation” have all but become dust but, there are still some of us who cling tightly to those ideals. The hope that man would evolve to the point of knowing they no longer needed to rely on borders and governments, laws (other than those opposed on us by nature) are irrelevant.
War is obsolete. The military continues to speak in terms of “winning” a war. There are no winners in war, just varying degrees of losers. The biggest losers are the ones who are forced (or conned) into fighting for something they don’t believe in. It is my belief that someday, mankind will recognize the futility in this activity and just give it up…
We could be spending all that effort, all the money and resources, devoted to destroying and apply it towards building. Building new medicines, feeding the hungry, in short taking care of one another. Only then can we truly achieve peace.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Testing... This is only a test
Fear and loathing, guilt and fun, like and peace, damn you son.
I can’t seem to get this going.
It doesn’t seem like that is fair
What I’m saying is what we aren’t
And what I’m trying is surely not art.
Sheez, this is great, edit it ain’t. How hard can the movies really be?
Don’t read what you are writing, don’t listen to what you hear,
Don’t give credence to the shouting, don’t give in to your fears.
This is an interesting outcome for sure.
If this had been an actual life, you would have been given specific instructions on how to deal with it.
This is only a test.
I can’t seem to get this going.
It doesn’t seem like that is fair
What I’m saying is what we aren’t
And what I’m trying is surely not art.
Sheez, this is great, edit it ain’t. How hard can the movies really be?
Don’t read what you are writing, don’t listen to what you hear,
Don’t give credence to the shouting, don’t give in to your fears.
This is an interesting outcome for sure.
If this had been an actual life, you would have been given specific instructions on how to deal with it.
This is only a test.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Elusive Headpin - Part XII
We arrived at the bowling alley and my first impression was that it surely had changed. It looked like the parking lot hadn’t been redone since the last time I set foot on that property 25 years ago. The exterior of the building itself showed a fair amount of paint chipping and appeared that the new owners hadn’t even bothered to paint over some of the graffiti on the rear of the building.
The old snack bar looked intact but it did appear that they had reworked the front desk. A more modern looking system was in place with automatic scorekeeping equipment deployed in each of the lanes. I thought back to all the fun discussions around checking the score sheets because they were always done “by hand” and subject to human foibles.
Other than the newer technology installed within the playing areas and at the front desk, the rest of the interior portion f the building looked much the same as I remembered it. As usual I was the first to arrive so, I basically got us a couple of lanes and began to change shoes and get ready for the rest of the group to arrive. I also took the liberty of walking into the bar and purchased a pitcher of whatever they had on tap. I typically did not like cheap draft beer but, made an exception to our past and the local circumstance in this situation.
As I was tossing a couple of practice shots and feeling the rust from not having bowled in about eight years, the first of my party showed up. I gave a nod and a wave to Ron as he came in from the sunshine into the dim lighting of the alley neon. By my third toss, I had at least worked out some of the rust from my foot work, the shots were poor (to say the least) but I hoped that this too would come along with a few more repetitions.
Ron quickly joined me and started in at the beer. He began bowling on the lane next to mine. He had thrown only two shots but, both of them were strikes. He looked over at me with that goofy grin and stated. “You still have a problem finding that pocket aren’t you…?”
“I haven’t tossed this thing in eight years.”
“Doesn’t matter, you never cold match my first ball skills…” He chided
“Is that what you call it…?” I countered.
Our banter was interrupted by the almost simultaneous arrival of our last two former team mates. Randy and Raymond both arrived entering from opposite sides of the building. They made short work of getting their shoes and balls polished and prepared for some friendly competition.
Randy suggested that the first games be a Scotch Double match. In a Scotch Doubles game, each partner would take turns with one player tossing the first shot of a frame with his teammate picking up spares for the first five frames of the game and then switching roles for the second five frames of the games.
We had compared notes and it seemed that both Raymond and Ron had been bowling regularly in the past few years. Randy stated that he hadn’t bowled in about five years. My absence of eight years being the biggest handicap.
The old snack bar looked intact but it did appear that they had reworked the front desk. A more modern looking system was in place with automatic scorekeeping equipment deployed in each of the lanes. I thought back to all the fun discussions around checking the score sheets because they were always done “by hand” and subject to human foibles.
Other than the newer technology installed within the playing areas and at the front desk, the rest of the interior portion f the building looked much the same as I remembered it. As usual I was the first to arrive so, I basically got us a couple of lanes and began to change shoes and get ready for the rest of the group to arrive. I also took the liberty of walking into the bar and purchased a pitcher of whatever they had on tap. I typically did not like cheap draft beer but, made an exception to our past and the local circumstance in this situation.
As I was tossing a couple of practice shots and feeling the rust from not having bowled in about eight years, the first of my party showed up. I gave a nod and a wave to Ron as he came in from the sunshine into the dim lighting of the alley neon. By my third toss, I had at least worked out some of the rust from my foot work, the shots were poor (to say the least) but I hoped that this too would come along with a few more repetitions.
Ron quickly joined me and started in at the beer. He began bowling on the lane next to mine. He had thrown only two shots but, both of them were strikes. He looked over at me with that goofy grin and stated. “You still have a problem finding that pocket aren’t you…?”
“I haven’t tossed this thing in eight years.”
“Doesn’t matter, you never cold match my first ball skills…” He chided
“Is that what you call it…?” I countered.
Our banter was interrupted by the almost simultaneous arrival of our last two former team mates. Randy and Raymond both arrived entering from opposite sides of the building. They made short work of getting their shoes and balls polished and prepared for some friendly competition.
Randy suggested that the first games be a Scotch Double match. In a Scotch Doubles game, each partner would take turns with one player tossing the first shot of a frame with his teammate picking up spares for the first five frames of the game and then switching roles for the second five frames of the games.
We had compared notes and it seemed that both Raymond and Ron had been bowling regularly in the past few years. Randy stated that he hadn’t bowled in about five years. My absence of eight years being the biggest handicap.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Elusive Headpin - Part XI
I awoke the next day thinking a tad disoriented. As I was sorting through the images and sounds that were part of my Sister’s house, I thought for a time that I might have imagined much of the encounter with Lisa and Josephine the night before.
I thought of what she (and her daughter) must have been going through at the wake the night before. The fact the four of us showed up had to also bring back some uncomfortable memories of choices long past. I was glad that she had reconciled with her daughter and that they seemed to be on their way to building a relationship. I hoped that, in time, they would be able to make up for some lost opportunities.
True to my word, I said nothing of what I had come to know of Lisa’s past dealings with Joe. The ceremony was brief but respectful. It seemed Lisa was content to stay in the background for the services and allowed Joe’s only living sibling to be the center of attention. I wondered (but dared not ask) how Josephine felt about that decision. It was her Dad we were burying and only she, her mom and I knew this.
We had the customary after services diner gathering with friends and family which was hosted at a nearby VFW hall. It was well attended but brief and the group was in the process of disbanding. I noticed that Lisa and Josephine were absent from this portion of the ritual. I assumed they had returned home (and at that point I realized I didn’t know where “home” was for them) after the services at the graveyard.
I took this opportunity to reunite again with my former bowling team mates.
“Yo Randy. What are your plans with the rest of the day?”
“I didn’t have any really.” He replied. “I guess I was going to mosey on back to Connecticut…”
“Hmm… To hearth and home…”
“Yeah.”
“I was wondering if we could get the group to head back over to the bowling alley in Mabbetsville.”
“I’m game… is it still there?”
“Yep… still there but somewhat run down from our last image of it … I’m told.”
I moved from the captain over to Raymond and Ron.
“Hey guys. Randy and I are going to head back over to Mabbetsville to check out the old bowling alley. You guys up for a little side trip?”
They looked at one another. I saw Ron sigh briefly but, I received two nods from them.
“Good. I’ll see you folks over there”.
I then went over to bid our host a final adieu and extend my condolences once again. I then headed out to the parking lot, jumped into the truck and headed out to our old haunt.
I patted my old bowling ball which I had strapped into the passenger seat when I left home in Schenectady.
I thought of what she (and her daughter) must have been going through at the wake the night before. The fact the four of us showed up had to also bring back some uncomfortable memories of choices long past. I was glad that she had reconciled with her daughter and that they seemed to be on their way to building a relationship. I hoped that, in time, they would be able to make up for some lost opportunities.
True to my word, I said nothing of what I had come to know of Lisa’s past dealings with Joe. The ceremony was brief but respectful. It seemed Lisa was content to stay in the background for the services and allowed Joe’s only living sibling to be the center of attention. I wondered (but dared not ask) how Josephine felt about that decision. It was her Dad we were burying and only she, her mom and I knew this.
We had the customary after services diner gathering with friends and family which was hosted at a nearby VFW hall. It was well attended but brief and the group was in the process of disbanding. I noticed that Lisa and Josephine were absent from this portion of the ritual. I assumed they had returned home (and at that point I realized I didn’t know where “home” was for them) after the services at the graveyard.
I took this opportunity to reunite again with my former bowling team mates.
“Yo Randy. What are your plans with the rest of the day?”
“I didn’t have any really.” He replied. “I guess I was going to mosey on back to Connecticut…”
“Hmm… To hearth and home…”
“Yeah.”
“I was wondering if we could get the group to head back over to the bowling alley in Mabbetsville.”
“I’m game… is it still there?”
“Yep… still there but somewhat run down from our last image of it … I’m told.”
I moved from the captain over to Raymond and Ron.
“Hey guys. Randy and I are going to head back over to Mabbetsville to check out the old bowling alley. You guys up for a little side trip?”
They looked at one another. I saw Ron sigh briefly but, I received two nods from them.
“Good. I’ll see you folks over there”.
I then went over to bid our host a final adieu and extend my condolences once again. I then headed out to the parking lot, jumped into the truck and headed out to our old haunt.
I patted my old bowling ball which I had strapped into the passenger seat when I left home in Schenectady.
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