Literalarryly's Blog

Judge Not?

literalarry — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 12:54:40 +0000

I found myself thinking about those two airline pilots the other day. You know the guys that overshot their destination by 150 miles or so and were out of radio contact for somewhere in the neighborhood of an hour. Pretty serious stuff right? I think they lost their licenses for it and their jobs. As I watched the news that day I remember thinking those two schmucks are toast, and rightly so. The first thought that crossed my mind as well as every other person watching I imagine was “they were sleeping “. They were quiet for a couple of days as I recall and then came up with the story that they were both on their laptops engrossed in new flight regulations that they were going to have to follow and lost track of time and space. I mean seriously guys I can believe you might have been on the computer but I don’t think it would have been flight regulations you were looking at. Besides that, how in the world do you lose radio contact for that long?
All that being said I can’t help but wonder if these guys paid to high a price. I know I know I can hear you from here. Are you nuts buddy? What about the public safety? I’m not saying what these two did was not serious or not deserving of punishment. But think about it. The whole world knows now whenever you make a mistake and these guys made a whopper. Gone are the days when you can make a monumental blunder like this one and have your boss save your butt because he knows that other than this incident you have been a pretty exemplar employee. Now you are on all the news channels, blogs, YouTube, face book and twitter. In short make a mistake these days in the public arena and you might as well take your clothes off and run around the block. People are going to notice, period. Let’s think about this for a moment. These planes are completely automated now. The pilot still has to know how to fly it but the computer does all the heavy lifting these days. Now I’m not saying it is right but I can imagine that things can get pretty boring up there. I’m also thinking that if these guys fell asleep and that is what I think happened, that others have been doing it as well. Of course they aren’t going to come out and admit it but trust me it was happening. Was anyone hurt? Nope. So let me just lay out a possibility here. You make the pilots pay for the extra fuel used. Give them a suspension and let the public humiliation do the rest. Personally I think the public humiliation in itself would have almost been sufficient. Unfortunately we seem to live in a no mercy society, because surely none of us would be guilty of such a monumental lapse of judgment. Or would we??
Let’s examine that question a bit. Could others in society ever commit such terrible errors? Well let me see. What about the medical profession for example. We have all heard the horror stories about someone going in for surgery and having the wrong leg operated on, a procedure done that was not what they were in for or even worse having the wrong organ replaced or removed. What about all the times an instrument or sponge is left inside the patient. In these cases is anyone hurt or even in some case do they lose their very life? Well do these people lose their jobs? Isn’t that what malpractice insurance is for. Just a mistake after all. We are only human. What about politicians? These guys if they were asleep it was for at the most just over an hour. Some politicians sleep through entire terms of office. Not only that where the pilots inadvertently put people at risk these snakes do it deliberately and on a daily basis in some cases. Finally, what about drunk drivers who daily put all our lives in danger knowing full well what they are doing. If caught do they immediately and forever more lose their right to operate a motor vehicle? As a matter of fact I think if we were to all be completely honest with ourselves we could probably think of at least one instance in our lives when we either through a terrible blunder or intentionally put someone besides ourselves at risk. Ever driven under the influence for example. I regrettably did so more than once when I was younger. Back then if caught I’m not even sure if you got a suspension for a first offence. I also on more than one occasion through a lapse in judgment or by sheer forgetfulness have put my own children in jeopardy. Most notably on one particular occasion I brought my infant daughter with me to pick up my two eldest from school. Upon arrival my kids wanted to play on the equipment with me. So after having some fun with them for awhile I decided it was time to go. Well I was almost home after making a stop at the market to pick something up that I realized to my absolute horror that I wasn’t pushing the stroller with my infant daughter in it. I don’t think I have felt panic like that before or since. I retraced my steps wondering how I would live with myself if something happened to my baby. Of course that would have been a moot point as my wife would not have let me live long anyway. You don’t show up at home without a woman’s child and live to tell the tale. Anyway it turned out that I had left her at the school in my distraction and found her happily playing with two of the most amused teachers I have ever seen. They didn’t let me forget that for quite some time.
My point is this. We are all capable of terrible lapses in judgment, forgetfulness and just plain bad decisions. None of us are exempt from this. I just wonder if there might be room in this world for a little compassion and mercy when someone falls victim to one of these human frailties. Sure this was a terrible error on these pilots part. One that deserved a reprimand and consequences. I never did hear about what these men’s past records were like but if they were otherwise spotless I have to think that the loss of their license and employment had to be a bit severe. I imagine that the court of public opinion and their own disappointment in themselves would have been pretty harsh on its own. I am reminded of a passage from the bible that I think would cause us to pause before so quickly jumping to judgment if it were practiced.
Mathew 7: 1, 2
Judge not, that you be not judged. For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged, and with the same measure you use, it will be measured back to you.

If however you by chance have led a perfect life to this point you can disregard this good advice. Remember however that there is always tomorrow.

The Fourth Watch Of The Night

literalarry — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 13:22:04 +0000

I want to share with you today a cautionary tale. This is a true story about a man who years ago became a Christian. He started out on this journey slowly and with great skepticism about the whole concept. However after much ground work was laid by a friend of his and much soul searching of his own he decided that this idea of Christianity was something that he thought had merit and a belief system he wanted to embrace. Like I said though this particular man was a born skeptic and so he went forward with small wary steps always leaving the back door of his mind open for a quick escape at the first sign of untruth. He began by reading the Bible religiously, always showing up to church with questions for the Pastor or anyone else who would listen. Slowly but surely the truth he found in the pages of the Bible began to sink in to his spirit and he let his guard down somewhat. Eventually the man began to open up to the idea of surrender. The bible is big on surrender. Surrendering your life, burdens, sins, thoughts and worst of all your control all over to Jesus. There were many bumps and road blocks along the way that tripped up our hero as he travelled this road but eventually he discovered that he didn’t have to change overnight and that this Jesus really did accept him as he was at that moment of his life. So this mans story of transformation was not like a lot of stories you hear about this sort of thing where the conversion experience is dramatic and immediate. His was full of stops and starts and ups and downs and took a long time to bear fruit.
Eventually he was able to live his life in a way that truly did resemble what most people would consider to be that of a Christian. He attended church every week. He sang the worship songs with gusto even raising his hands in praise to his Savior. He began to share his story with others which is very important as a Christian although he never had much success in convincing anyone else that this was a life that they would want to pursue. This puzzled him greatly. He convinced himself however that it was not his job to save people. That was up to God. Which by the way is quite correct. Then rather unexpectedly things began to change for the man. I suppose you would say the Holy Spirit began to work in his life in a dramatic way. As a result of the man’s decision to completely trust in this Jesus an amazing thing began to happen. Everything became easier. His life for the next while was marked by a joy and peace that he had never experienced before. He could scarcely believe the transformation that took place within him merely as a result of allowing God to direct his life in every way. The change was so striking that many people stopped him to inquire about the utter transformation. Communication with God at this point was amazing. Not only was it easier for him to pray which was never a strong suit for him but he was also experiencing dreams and visions. I know this sounds out there but I am simply reporting the facts here so don’t shoot the messenger. I will relate one of these visions here to illustrate how amazing and personal they were to him. He was sitting in church one day looking around him at all the talented people on the platform performing the music. This was a big church so the talent pool was quite deep and the quality very top notch. As he watched he got lost in his thoughts about how these people had so much to give to God and began feeling very insecure about what he himself brought to the table. Kind of like the little drummer boy I guess. Then all of a sudden the whole scene changed and instead of the platform he was looking at a narrow path that wound up between two sheer rock cliffs. The path was only wide enough for one person to pass through at a time. As he watched in amazement a line of people were slowly passing one by one through this narrow opening. Every person in the line was dressed in the same drab beige garment. As they each stood alone in the gap a very bright light shone down on them. At the head of the line was one of the people that he had been watching enviously a moment earlier as they played the piano beautifully. As the man looked at this amazing vision the message that God was trying to impart to him was clear. You all stand before me alone in the end stripped of all your Worldly talents. He was telling him to store up his treasures in Heaven and not in this world. He knew then not to be envious of what others have or can do but to find out what is uniquely his and run with it. This was one of a number of dreams and visions the man experienced over the next while. God was also beginning to use him more and more in the church. It was an amazing time for him. All of his previous doubts were gone and he felt as if he were walking in absolute lock step with God. Then it happened. One day as the man stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom brushing his teeth God asked him to do something. What he asked seemed too much for him and the man refused. It seemed like a small thing at the time but what happened next seemed to have its beginnings in that small refusal.
What happened next were years of a slow but steady decline in the man’s faith. It started out so slowly and in such small increments that he hardly noticed any change at all. But before he knew it he found himself in a place where he felt as if God were some foreign concept he had studied a very long time ago in school. He was still going through the motions but the intimacy was long gone. This was fine for quite a while because having been a Christian for so long nobody was any the wiser. He knew his scripture and had walked the walk for so long that making a good show of it was easy. Besides he convinced himself that everyone went through these rough spots. Eventually this condition deteriorated to the point where the man had absolutely no communication with God any longer. Never reading his Bible or praying. Remarkably he was still able to continue on with the charade for the longest time. Then he went through a really rough period in his life when circumstances began to add up, and having no real faith to fall back on his own empty words began to ring so hollowly in his own mind that he could barely stand his own company any longer. He had always told his children not to be hypocritical but always to be honest about who they were because he knew that God honored that and here he was the worst of all pretenders. He just could not do it anymore. He couldn’t continue on living off of the past spiritually. Recounting the great things God had done in his life years before as if he were still doing so today. He decided that from that point forward he was not going to fake it any longer. There would be no more church, no more church events, and no more pretenses. He felt miserable, broken and very alone but at least he felt honest. Then something quite unexpected happened.
The man was in the middle of a ten week commitment at his church and even though he had no desire whatsoever to go he didn’t want to disappoint his pastor by quitting. So he attended the event with the idea that he would just be there and be silent as not to in any way influence anyone with his hypocrisy. Before I go any further I want to paraphrase something from the Book of Matthew. After getting horrible news that his dear friend John the Baptist had been beheaded Jesus just wanted to get away to pray. So he went to a deserted place by boat with his disciples. However the people followed him as they so often did. So feeling badly for them he stopped and stayed with them and the bible says he healed their sick. As the evening came the people were hungry so the disciples told Jesus to send them away so they could go and get food. Jesus said “Nonsense we will feed them. What do we have”? They had 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish. As the story goes Jesus blessed the loaves and fish and not only did they feed the 5 thousand people present but collected 12 baskets full of the fragments that remained. At this point Jesus got back to the business of finding a quiet place to pray and sent the disciples out in the boat to wait for him. Now as they waited for him the weather started getting bad and the boat started rocking pretty badly. Just when it was starting to look bleak and as the bible says in the fourth watch of the night Jesus shows up walking across the water. What is the reaction of the disciples after just seeing all the miracles he had performed that day? They think it is a ghost. Jesus tells them to relax it is just him and asks Peter (one of the disciples) to walk out on the water to him. He does ok at first but begins to sink after a bit.
I recount this story because I think there is a link between our story and this one. Just like the disciples the man in our story had seen the Lord do amazing things in his life. Then after the man’s refusal God left him alone for awhile like the disciples in the boat. Like the disciples after spending time apart from the miracles and intimate association with Jesus the man began to feel the troubles of life causing him doubts. But just like the biblical story when this man was at his lowest point spiritually and ready to give up completely Jesus comes walking across the water. In what manner did Jesus reveal himself to the man you may ask? Well as luck (or something else) would have it the topic that night was How does God communicate with us. The speaker in the video recounted all the ways God talks to us such as through prayer, the bible, through other people and then the one that caught his attention. Through dreams and visions. The man had convinced himself that because he hadn’t heard from God in so long that the amazing things from his past were of no consequence today and was ready to throw them out with tomorrow’s trash. He thought that since he hadn’t felt his presence in sooooo long that either he didn’t really exist or worse that he did and just didn’t care. Right there in that moment and in that place Jesus made his intimate personal presence felt to this man in a way that was unmistakable.
So why in the world had God allowed this man to wander around blindly, suffering for so long? Why didn’t he just continue with the dreams and visions and intimacy? Why did he leave the disciples alone in the boat until the fourth watch of the night when I am sure he knew they were getting scared? I think I know the answer to these questions now. I think it is because while dreams and visions and miracles are awesome and amazing it’s not where we live. We spend most of our lives here on this earth among the waves. This is not heaven and we live in a world that the bible says is fraught with troubles. There is a scripture that says that while we are here we see spiritual things as if we were looking in a mirror in a dimly lit room. In other words not so good. So I think Jesus knows that we need to trust him when we can’t see him. Dreams and Visions are Gods way of giving us a glimpse of what’s to come I think. Or to give us a message he wants us to share with others. Being in that boat amid the waves though is where we spend most of our time. So if you are finding yourself doubting God’s existence tonight and wishing he would give you a sign of some sort remember this story. No matter what amazing things he does in our life we are still human and can fall back into doubt. Trust me on this one because the man in the story in case you haven’t already guessed is me. It is easy to trust in Jesus when he is in the boat with you but what will we do in the fourth watch of the night?

The Agony of Da Feet

literalarry — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 12:01:01 +0000

Well I finished my second 1/2 Marathon today and I have to say it was an emotional ride. Being my second one I had a goal of course to improve on my first effort. As usual when I set my goal after the first result of 2:02:13 I overestimated my capabilities and set it for 1:45:00. I thought this seemed reasonable until my training taught me otherwise. So by the time race day came I grudgingly amended my estimated time of arrival to 1:55.00 with the vague hope I might pull off a 1:50:00 if I had a great day. The days leading up to the race were tough. I couldn’t run because I was nursing a sore hamstring and I felt like I should be doing something. So in my spare time I obsessed about the fine details of the race like what to wear. It was going to be a cold morning. They were calling for 32 degrees at the start. So I bought myself some under armor and tried it out. It seemed like it was a bit to hot and I had only run 4 miles. So over the next 24 hrs I must have flip flopped back and forth a hundred times on whether or not to wear it. It sounds strange I know but a small thing like that over a long run can make or break you. As it turns out I made the right choice not to wear it. The decision on whether to wear my usual Saucony HurricaneX’s or the black pumps was a little easier. I was also on midnight shift so I had to decide whether to work the night before or take the weekend off and try and swing my sleep schedule around. I opted for working and in retrospect that was probably a mistake.
The morning finally came. I started my preparations around 4:30 am by having my usual oatmeal and banana while I pulled on my track pants, long sleeve cool max shirt with my bib already pinned on and my black pumps…..thought I went for the runners didn’t you? Ok, Ok it was the runners. I had already laced in the D-tag the night before. The D-tag is a really cool little piece of plastic that has a chip built in. This is how they track your time while on the course. Conspiracy theorists hate these devices thinking that Big Brother is just trying to keep an eye on them. I had been hydrating all night and stopped at 5am so I wouldn’t have to go pee 10 times during the race. As it turns out however I had to go like 4 more times between then and the start. So I was hydrated, fed, dressed and trying to calm the flock of butterflies bouncing around in my stomach. “Ready as I’ll ever be” I thought to myself as I gathered all my stuff and left the plant to go and meet up with my running mate who we will refer to here as Barry. We will do that because that is actually his name. This was Barry’s first outing and he was raring to go.
So off we went hoping we hadn’t forgotten anything important. The Detroit Marathon is the only Marathon that crosses international borders and also the only one that has an underwater mile. You cross the Ambassador Bridge into Canada and go through the Tunnel to return to the USA. We got through customs pretty quickly and headed for the designated parking garage. There was a bit of a line to get in and we were cutting things a bit tight for time so we were relieved to find parking spots still available. Luckily there were other runners headed for the start because as you will find out later it was a little tricky to navigate this route as it crossed a busy freeway. As we followed blindly we realized we both had to pee pretty badly and the race was about 10 minutes from starting. Barry began to point out various places we could accomplish the feat. As I am not a big fan of public urination I insisted that there would be lots of porta johns at the starting area. However when we finally did come upon them there was a huge line up that without a doubt would have made us late for the race. I had no choice but to follow Barry as he slipped past about 6 cops standing on the corner and around back of all places a huge stone church. Visions began to go through my mind at that time of being arrested for public urination or being mugged in the dark alley, which to be honest I would have preferred to the embarrassment of being caught. I said a quick prayer asking God to forgive me for the sacrilege and proceeded to empty the tanks. Another guy walking by in the same dilemma, emboldened by seeing us sidled up beside me and joined the party. Now I had also caused my brother to sin. Oh well I am sure that God knew that this was really all Barry’s idea. Maybe I should have used an alias for Barry after all. Putting that bit of nasty business behind us we headed for our starting Corral. These are groupings of about a thousand runners each that they send off in waves every 2 minutes. There were so many people we couldn’t actually get into the corral area but kind of off to the side. This is a part of the race that I really like. Standing there just looking around at the sea of humanity all fidgeting with last minute preparations and bouncing from foot to foot in anticipation of the start. I kept checking my handy GPS watch to make sure I had it on the right screen and that it was set properly. Finally the count down and the Wheel chair athletes set off, the race was on! Two minutes later the first wave of runners got the nod and two minutes after that Barry and I were off and walking. Walking? Ok maybe more like shuffling. That is the way 19,000 people start a marathon in a kind of knot of legs and flailing arms all trying to find a bit of room to start the actual business of running. The wave start allowed for a smooth transition though and it wasn’t long before we were able to settle in to our 8:45 minute/mile pace. It is hard at the beginning to stick to what you know to be your pace because the adrenaline of the race makes you naturally speed up. I kept an eye on my watch however and tried to maintain our proper rhythm. The first couple of miles went smoothly. We shed our throw away sweat shirts that we had purchased cheaply at a second hand store at about mile one and shortly after that I got rid of that ugly orange cool max t-shirt I never wear. Race volunteers pick them up after for distribution to the poor which I think is a cool thing. Barry and I whisked along elbow to elbow as I listened to a couple behind us constantly trying to rein in what I assumed to be their daughter who was giving in to the adrenaline rush I mentioned earlier. It was a good start with perfect conditions and I could just imagine that if you could actually see the butterflies that come before a race we would be witnessing a glorious spectacle in the air as 19,000 people having finally felt foot meeting pavement could relax and settle into their own unique style and rhythm of running. And believe me even in a group that big there aren’t two people who run exactly the same way. Barry looked over at me and said “this is awesome” and I had to agree. It really was.
We came to the Ambassador Bridge and our first ascent. We were still fresh though so while you could feel the increase in intensity of the climb it wasn’t bad and what a view. As we neared the top someone beside us said “check out the sunrise”. I looked to my left as the red sun rose above the Detroit river. What a feeling to be on that bridge looking down at the river and our hometown of Windsor Ontario. As the sun rose in the east we passed mile marker 3. I looked at my watch and we were right on the money for our pace. My heart rate however was higher than normal for that point in a run. As we came over the top of the Bridge and started going down hill it was sweet relief to feel your momentum start to carry you and be able to give your heart and lungs a breather as you let your legs just free wheel beneath you. I like down hill running. As we came to the bottom of the bridge and passed through customs Barry started scouring the supporters lining the street for his wife, daughter and grandchildren. He spotted them right away and ran over to say hi as they cheered us on enthusiastically along with another couple that we know. We will just call them the Jones’s. At this point I would like to give a shout out to the people that come out early on a Sunday morning in the cold weather to lend their support. While many of them know someone in the race many do not. If you are one of these people and are reading this blog please allow me to show my appreciation right now and give you a great big cyber hug. I can’t tell you how much it means and how much easier it makes the miles go by to see you guys out there cheering for complete strangers. There were times during this race that you were without a doubt the only thing that kept my legs pumping. So thank you, thank you, and thank you all. Mile four slid by as we headed toward the river and as Barry spotted my wife Christine running away from the road apparently thinking we had already passed and leaving. I wasn’t expecting to see her at this spot as she had said she would be at the tunnel. So it was an unexpected boost as I shouted her name and saw her big smile of recognition. The crowd cheered as we ran toward each other and fell into each others arms just like in the movies. Ok that didn’t happen but it could have. After receiving the encouragement from our loved ones Barry and I continued on with the Canadian portion of the race with renewed strength. The run along Riverside Drive was smooth sailing in beautiful weather. At this point however an issue that I have with circulation started to rear its ugly head. In colder weather my hands lose blood flow and freeze up on me. I purchased an expensive pair of gloves to solve this problem and also wore a cheap pair of knit gloves on top that I could throw away if my hands got to hot. Well that was a waste of 20 bucks because my hands were on the way to feeling like ice blocks. This is a real problem because when it gets to bad I can’t even squeeze my plastic water bottle to hydrate. My heart rate was still elevated but we were maintaining our pace and Barry seemed to be doing very well. The Riverside portion encompasses miles 5,6 and 7. It is relatively flat and just a nice run with a great view. So I just tried to relax and take in the sites and sounds in preparation for what the previous year was my nemesis……the tunnel. At one point I passed an older gentleman who was laboring so hard that I almost felt like advising him that it might be time for him to call it a day.
As we approached the tunnel entrance I started to look for Christine again. She had said she would be in front of the Tim Horton’s. As we passed it however I didn’t see her or my daughter and grandchild Margo. I was disappointed. Just then Barry spotted her a little farther up and there she was jumping around and cheering me on like crazy. She is so cute!! Sadly my daughter wasn’t with her. Barry’s daughter and grandchildren were there and I will admit I felt a twinge of jealousy. Refer to my 2nd post to see how much I love it whenever Margo shows up. Ok here we were looking down into the black hole that swallowed me up last year and spit me out weak and gasping. The underwater tunnel that connects Windsor Canada to Detroit Michigan. I felt a bit intimidated but tried to focus on all the hard training I had done to be stronger this year. Still it was with some trepidation that I started down into the abyss. It is pretty cool entering the tunnel with all those people around you shouting and hooting and listening to it echo of the cement walls. I tried to conserve my strength on the descent so I could use it to get me up the far side. As we reached the bottom I looked at Barry and said “this is the last big effort” and up we went. Hey this was going pretty good!! We turned the corner at the end of the tunnel where it is a fair bit steeper and I felt pretty strong as we sprang up towards the sunshine on the other side. Mile marker 8 is just outside the tunnel. I had told Barry in preparation that we wanted to be there at around 70 minutes in. I looked over at Barry and asked him what time we were at. He looked at his watch and said 70 minutes exactly. I have to admit I felt a little proud of myself for my amazing pacing abilities. I was really showing this newbie buddy of mine how this was done. I allowed myself a moment of self congratulations. Since this was the exact spot that I felt at my lowest in the previous year when I ran the race with my running partner Michele (formerly known as Pep) this is where I asked her to position herself on the route. I also jokingly told her that I expected her to be carrying pom poms and doing her best imitation of a cheerleader. So as we passed through US customs and rounded the corner I kept an eye out for her. Unfortunately at that spot the people line the route quite thickly and there was no way I would be able to pick her out so I just listened for my name. A mile went by and I didn’t hear anything so I assumed I had either missed her or she couldn’t make it across the border. Oh well I would just have to feed off of the hundreds of strangers cheering us on as we began to put mile 9 in the books. The sun was shining brightly and I felt better than I had at this point last year but my hands were now completely frozen and my heart rate was in the 165 beats per minute range. That is not a range to be running distances in but what could I do. I gritted my teeth and tried to squeeze some water out of one of my bottles. It was a futile effort. Mile nine went by and I started to waver. We were coming up on mile marker 10 and I was about to tell Barry that if he had anything left this was the point where he should try and pick it up a notch when he started to pull away. I started to follow but it just wasn’t there. I felt very mixed emotions seeing Barry cruise away like that. He was running really well and I was happy for him. On the other hand though I had been over this point in the race many times in the weeks leading up to the marathon. I remember being out on runs and visualizing getting to the 10 mile mark and picking up my pace like I would on that day. I visualized a strong finish and a great time. It is what gets you through all that training. But here I was up against the reality of 3 more hard miles with not much left in the tank and hands that were basically useless to me. Well at least I still had my feet. So as I watched Barry round the corner ahead running strong I put him out of my mind and concentrated on trying to get myself across that finish line. The last 3 miles of last years race were extremely tough but nothing could have prepared me for this years. At first I kept looking at my watch to see how far until the next mile marker but that was just too depressing. I tried thinking about other things, looking at other runners, praying and any other time passing activity I could think of. Finally mile marker 11 slid beneath my feet. Mile 12 was torture. I thought about quitting about every 100 yards. I needed water badly but couldn’t even get the water out of my fuel belt my hands were so messed up. There was a water station coming up but I have difficulty drinking out of a cup when I am breathing hard without choking so I would have to walk and I was afraid if I walked I wouldn’t be able to start running again. I took the water and walked while I drank it. Everything in me wanted to quit but before the thought could take root I forced my legs into motion again. My heart rate was now 170 bpm which is what it usually is when doing a very strenuous workout. I came up along side of a girl who was suffering badly and she was talking to herself. “Just 2 more miles” she was repeating over and over. I felt such a connection with her at that moment. I wanted to say to her “look I’m really struggling here too. But we can do this together!! Let’s go!!” I mean that is the way the hero would do it in the movies and all of a sudden the two runners renewed in their combined strength would race on to a glorious finish. Instead I suffered in silence and she continued to talk to herself as we passed mile marker 12. One more mile!!! It felt like my legs could no longer lift my feet and my hands were bouncing off my chest lifelessly. I wondered how long your hands could go without blood flow. I could see the headline now “Man loses hands in Marathon tragedy”. Just then my feet stopped moving on their own. I was walking. I fumbled at my fuel belt and with both hands managed to clumsily remove a bottle and squeeze some water out more with my arms than my hands. I still don’t know how I started running again but I did. Just then I found myself being directed to the side by medical staff. As I ran past I could see a man down on the pavement being given chest compressions by a medic. He did not look good. For a moment my mind was torn away from my own physical struggle and latched on to this poor man. Was he going to die right there less than a mile away from the finish line? I prayed for him and continued on. I was just on the verge of stopping for good. I mean this was really to much to bear. I swore this was definitely my last half marathon. Then there they were!! Hundreds of people lining the sides of Fort St. cheering like crazy. I knew I was still ahead of my time from last year but had no way of reaching my goal time for this year. I felt ridiculous stopping in front of all those people and would have just kicked myself if I walked the last half a mile to finish worse than last year. So with every ounce of energy I had left I started to run again. I don’t remember in what order the rest of these events occurred because I was pretty out of it but this is basically what happened. I started to run and came upon another downed runner being attended to. Then I saw the finished line festooned in all those balloons. It was the best thing I had ever seen. I just wanted to get there as fast as I could so I don’t know where in the world I got it from but I picked up my pace. Just then I thought I heard my name from my right. I searched the sea of faces in the crowd and was about to give up when I heard my name again and saw Grace. Right beside her was my running partner Michele. I tried to wave and say hi and keep running without doing a major face plant. With my last bit of energy I faced the finish line and gave it my all. I could here Michele’s voice beside me as I went. She later told me she was running with me along the sidewalk like some crazy lady. The last thing I saw as I crossed the finish line was another man down being attended to. Then Barry welcomed me as I coasted to a walk. We congratulated each other, picked up our foil wraps they give you to keep warm and received our medals. Barry had to tie my wrap around my neck because my hands were useless. Slowly we made our way along to where the barrier that separates the runners from the spectators ends and met up with Michele and Grace. I gave them both a hug and thanked them for coming. Then I noticed Michele holding a bright pink pomp pom.
I was a mess! Totally fatigued. It took hrs before my hands felt normal again and my calves felt like they had knives driven into them. I didn’t know my exact time because my watch craps out in the tunnel and Barry had finished ahead of me but I had a pretty good idea that it was around 1:56 or so. Not to bad considering it was only a minute slower than what I had anticipated. Barry and I had quite the adventure trying to get back to the car. It took us over an hour and I could write an entire post about that in itself. We also got held up for about an hour at the border. By the time I got home I was completely drained and had a chill and just wanted a hot bath. As I soaked in the tub and later watched my Lions get demolished as they do on most Sundays. I began to relive the day and to feel some regret that I wasn’t on my A game for the race. I started to play the “What if” game. Its tough to train for months and months in all kinds of weather and not come up with the result you want. Later that night as I was heading to bed my wife told me that 3 men lost their lives in the Marathon. It was the 3 men I ran past. That morning 3 men kissed their wives good bye and headed out to run a half marathon just like I did. As a matter of fact one of those men ran with his wife. Those men won’t be coming home. Tears still come to my eyes thinking about them and their families. The bible says in James: whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away. None of us is guaranteed a tomorrow. We need to be thankful at all times and take nothing for granted.
So today I will be thankful for seeing my wife in an unexpected place, for my running mate Barry and his family who cheered us on, Keith and Laurie Jones for the same reason, Grace and Michele for helping me finish strong, for pink pom poms, frozen hands, sore muscles and especially for a time of 1 hour 56 minutes and 8 seconds in the 2009 Detroit Free Press Half Marathon. And I will pray for the families of those 3 men who would have never in a million years have anticipated their result.

Why Do I Run?

literalarry — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 13:08:52 +0000

Someone once asked me “why do you run?” I don’t really remember what my response was at the time. Something obvious like “to stay fit.” I have to admit though the question has been picking away at the edge of my consciousness ever since. Why DO I run? I guess initially it was for fitness and weight loss. It had been a few years since I had been active and the pounds had started to add up so I decided it was time to get back to the gym. So I dug out the old gym stuff and headed back to the torture chamber. I have worked out on and off all my life but never seemed to be able to make it a life style. It was always a chore I had to do. I remember my first day back to the gym sitting at a piece of equipment looking straight ahead into a mirror. Why do they have to have so many mirrors? There was this guy looking back at me with his belly just hanging out over his shorts and pushing up his shirt in a way that said “go ahead knock yourself out I ain’t going anywhere.” I remember thinking “geez what’s the use it will take me years to get rid of that thing. It is amazing how once you pass a certain age your body turns to jelly so much faster when not being utilized. After sitting there staring straight ahead into the belly of the beast literally and figuratively I decided that that the pain of staying the same was greater that the pain of change and pushed out my first rep.
Now that the heavy lifting was out of the way I had to do something to get my heart rate up in order to get rid of that Michelin full size spare tire so there I stood on the black surface of the treadmill trying to remember how to start the darn thing. A few keystrokes later the easy part was over, the belt began to turn and I was off slap…slap…slap….slap…..puff…..puff…..puff…..puff. This was not fun. I think I started off running and walking alternately for about 15 minutes…………pathetic!! I was determined however to keep it up so little by little, week by week I increased my time and intensity until I was doing about 3.5 miles in 35 minutes with no walking. I was pretty proud of myself. More than that though the pounds were melting away and slowly the spare tire was beginning to deflate. This running thing was working but man oh man was it boring. So I guess initially the answer to “Why do I run?” was for fitness. I think however that if it had stopped there I would have eventually died of the boredom and quit running all together. So I decided to take my running on the road.
This was a whole new thing. Everything was controlled in the gym. No wind, rain, cold, heat or hard unyielding pavement to deal with. Still something about the road was better, not so monotonous. The miles seemed to go by faster and you could always vary the route. So on I went increasing my mileages and pace until I was routinely doing about 15 miles a week. This while impressive prompted my body to begin to demonstrate to me in no uncertain terms the full extent of its displeasure at the choice of my new hobbies. I learned more about my body and pain in that first 6months of road running than in all my previous 46 years of life. I remember a friend asking me if I was stretching my IT band when he found out how much I was running and I said “IT band?” I had no idea what he was talking about. So I politely listened, watched him demonstrate some stretches, tried them myself to create the illusion that I would actually do them and left knowing full well that I would do no such thing. Big mistake!! I woke up one day after doing a long run the night before and headed downstairs to feed my very demanding cat only to find that my knees no longer functioned without excruciating pain as they did before. I promptly made a Chiropractor’s appointment. After a quick examination he announced “your IT bands are as tight as piano wire” and proceeded to inflict what he probably considers to be healing but what felt to me like PAIN!! He also suggested that I get a massage. I like the images that the word massage conjures up. Relaxing on a nice padded table while beautiful women proceed to gently kneed your aching muscles with exotic oils until you are in a state of total nirvana. That is the way I had always seen it on TV anyway. This image was quickly shattered however when my running partner suggested her massage therapist who happened to be a guy!! I don’t think so I thought. A guy touching me……….with oil…….that’s not right!!! He is really good she insisted. I was in pain and needed help. So I reluctantly made my appointment with Wayne and eventually found myself in the room with the nice padded table and mood music playing being worked over by what felt like a 300 lb gorilla that I had just taken a bunch of bananas away from. The chiropractor was nothing compared to this. He had my leg manipulated into a position completely against the laws of human anatomy while he ran his forearm along the outside of my thigh from hip to knee with the force of a backhoe digging out a trench. I clenched that table so hard in utter pain that I was sure I heard a snapping noise either created by the breaking of his table or my poor body. I have never before or since experienced pain like that and have no desire to either so needless to say I have been a firm believer in stretching ever since.
Back to the running. As you may have figured out from the previous paragraph I found myself a running partner. As was my good fortune her previous partner had knocked herself silly when she ran into a low hanging tree branch. I had been wanting to find a running partner for awhile but wasn’t really sure how to go about it as most people I knew ran only when being chased. I tried conscripting my wife and kids getting various responses ranging from “not happening” to outright laughter. So when I heard about the availability of this person who we will refer to here as Pep I did not hesitate to call her and we have run together ever since. I have made it a point to keep my eyes open on runs in case the whole tree branch thing was not an accident. One can’t be too careful. Pep likes to run on trails so now I found myself doing some running close to nature which for me has been a real plus. I have always loved nature and wildlife. I remember a few runs that winter after we had gotten snow overnight. I would meet Pep at a trail head after my midnight shift had ended. It was early in the morning and we were the first ones to set our prints down in the fresh snow. It was so quiet and peaceful as I ran, my breath coming out in white puffs as we made our way along the trail. The previous night must have started out raining because all the trees had a frozen coating of ice that just sparkled as the sun came up. Talk about beautiful. Then we would round a corner in the woods of Ojibway Park and there would be a group of deer right in front of us. Sometimes I would stop and just stare in amazement at a new fawn who would just stare back. On another run I almost ran right into a young buck standing right in the middle of the trail his head held high looking so majestic. I stopped and we looked at each other for what seemed like 5 minutes. Then he leaped away covering amazing amounts of ground with each bounding stride while I carried on with my run. I also remember days when I felt like things in my life were closing in on me and I just needed to escape. I would just lace up my runners and shoot out the door and run until my mind found some peace in the rhythm of my own breathing, or prayer. I always felt better as if the sweat washed away the pain or concern I had at the time in some way. I remember the time I was out on a run in the winter. The temperature was just above freezing and about 3 miles into what I wanted to be a 10 mile run it started to rain hard. At first I was just going to go to the end of the block and turn around but then something really cool happened. Something about the rain completely energized me and all of a sudden I felt an absolute surge of adrenaline in my entire body. Not only did I run the 10 miles that night but felt as if I could run forever.
So if you ask me why I run today my answer will be quite different. Yes it keeps me fit. I have never found anything better for burning calories but it is much more than that. I read a book recently that suggests that we were born to run. That it is in our make up as people and that as a society we have become disconnected from it by technology. It gave a lot of anthropological reasons for why we are uniquely suited for running. I prefer to think that we were uniquely created for running but that is beside the point. Today if you ask me why I run I will tell you that it is for the times that I feel so completely connected to God’s creation like in the woods looking at that buck wanting to just run after him with those long loping strides. Or for the times when running seems like the only thing that can chase away whatever demon is gnawing on my mind in difficult times. Or for the times when I feel as if everything has come together on a given run and I am one fluid motion that could run all day and never get tired of it. I feel like there is something very honest about running. There is no cheating and no short cuts. No one can help you it’s just you and the trail. There is something very satisfying about running a long distance and knowing that you did it all under your own power. Some days I dread it I will admit but in the end I am convinced that it has made me a better person. Someone said to me recently that you only have so many heart beats and that runners die earlier. I don’t really know what to make of that statement or whether it is true or not. One thing I will say though is I can think of a lot worse ways to spend your heart beats. So I will conclude by stealing a friend of mine’s email sign off………..Gotta Run!!

It’s not about you

literalarry — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 13:18:20 +0000

I had an eye opening day on Sunday I would like to share with you. I worked midnights on Sunday which brought me home at 7:45 AM tired and ready for bed. I fed the dogs and to keep them out of trouble let them loose in our bedroom, which they take as an open invitation to jump on the bed. They usually end up stepping all over my dear wife in the process which wakes her up. Well now that she was up anyway I decided to ask her what her plans were for the day. It had been a pretty rough week for various reasons so I wasn’t really surprised to hear her say. “Well I definitely wasn’t planning on going to church “. To be honest I wasn’t either. I was far to tired and feeling the effects of the aforementioned bad week. What she said next did surprise me however. She said “but I came to the realization that it isn’t about me “. Wow I thought she is right. But when she elaborated it really did take me off guard. I was expecting her to say it’s about God. What she said instead was “it’s about other people. Some people just enjoy seeing us there”. Double wow!! I didn’t see that one coming. So I left her there with a kiss on the forehead and proceeded to the “dark room” which is where I sleep on midnights. I keep it completely dark and make like a mushroom.
As I lay there I just couldn’t find sleep. What she had said kept rolling around in my head. She had really nailed it. We do go to church expecting to see certain people. Sometimes even really needing to talk with someone who has helped you through something in the past, and when they aren’t there it can be disappointing. Maybe someone was going to church this morning with something on their mind that they really wanted to talk to me about. Geez I was going to have to get up and put off sleep for a few more hours. These wives can be very inconvenient. They are like consciences with benefits. So I rolled out of my nice warm bed, stumbled out of the darkness and got myself ready for church.
I got there ahead of my wife and kids because I took our Scooter so I could zip home after breakfast in time to catch my Lions game. If you read my previous post this will save me allot of explanation with regards to the Lions. I sat in the pew and wondered why I had come. I could barely keep my eyes open and wasn’t feeling particularly sociable. I greeted a few people, but nobody seemed like they needed to tap my vast storehouse of wisdom and knowledge. Hmmm……..weird. I was sure I was here by divine appointment. Oh well……….better pay attention service has started. At that point my wife showed up with my daughter and grand daughter. If you refer to my second post you will understand how happy I get when my grand daughter shows up. This was more like it. Ok the service. The message this day was about family. I believe the title was are we ever really free of our parents. The speaker raised allot of good points about how we parent. How most of us just kind of wing it having had no prior experience and not being supplied with an owner’s manual for the kids we are blessed with. Like I said I was really tired and having a hard time focusing. So as the message was ending and we started into the worship songs at the end of service I was feeling kind of let down. Then all of a sudden I found my mind wandering back to what my wife had said earlier and it all became clear. What God wanted me to get out of all this. It’s not about you stupid. In almost every single interaction I have with people the point of reference that I use is ME. My wife made me aware of it with regards to my church family when I got home in the morning which got me to church where God was now showing me that this also applies to the family he has blessed me with. I am always taking things personally. Always looking at a situation with regards to how it affects me. This is completely backwards to the way God created us. The bible is literally crammed full of examples of stepping outside of ourselves and serving others. Jesus life on this earth was a living example of servant hood. His death on the cross was the ultimate example of selflessness. This may all seem very obvious to you but the more I thought about it the more I came to the realization of how self absorbed I had become lately.
Jesus knew what he was talking about when he taught us to heal the broken hearted and set the captives free. To love your neighbor as yourself and not only that to love your enemy while you are at it. To take care of the widow and visit the prisoners. I think he knew that if we focused inwardly we would become sick both physically and spiritually. We just aren’t created that way. We were created for each other and are at our most fulfilled when serving others. The challenge is that this philosophy is counter to what the world teaches. So as I conclude here I just want to say I am glad the dogs jumped on my wife this morning causing the words to pop out of her that stirred something inside of me. I’m glad I went to church and heard a message about family. I’m glad that I don’t have to go on this journey of life alone. Finally the next time I find myself faced with the opportunity to look at something from another perspective besides my own or help out when I would much rather be watching the Lions game or to love someone who is not treating me well, I pray that I will remember what God said to me through my wife……… It’s not about me.

Confessions of a Lions fan

literalarry — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 12:14:23 +0000

My name is Larry and I am a Detroit Lions fan. Just as an alcoholic stands up at his first AA meeting and takes that first step towards recovery I stand before you today and confess to my addiction. I remember how the NFL got to me in the beginning. I was an impressionable young man of about thirteen or so when I started watching the odd game. I didn’t know much about the sport having been raised like any Canadian kid on a steady diet of Hockey. The more I watched it however, the more it got into my blood. I started finding myself in front of the TV on Sunday watching one, sometimes two games. Then it happened. I witnessed football perfection in the Pittsburg Steelers. These were the Terry Bradshaw, Mean Joe Greene, Franco Harris, Jack Lambert and Lynn Swan Steelers. This was a team that made its opponents wish they were out golfing instead. They were a combination of sheer brutality and poetry in motion like no other team I have seen since. They had so many weapons on offense they were virtually unstoppable. Franco Harris was a power house of a runner who could also leave a would be tackler grasping for air. If they didn’t kill you on the ground they would definitely do it through the air with the combination of Terry Bradshaw and Lynn Swann. Between Bradshaw’s deadly accurate spirals and Swan’s acrobatic catches other team’s secondaries were left looking foolish on a weekly basis. As if that weren’t enough their defense may have been even better. With Mean Joe Greene leading a defensive front that absolutely terrorized quarterbacks on virtually every down and a linebacking core lead by Jack Lambert that could make you sorry you did make it out of the back field they were formidable to say the least. They were a tough group of Sob’s who were epitomized by the famous picture of Jack Lambert sitting on his helmet on the sidelines watching the offence on the field. His uniform is a mess and the helmet he sits upon has a big clod of turf still stuck in the face mask. The guy looked like he ate children for breakfast. So like every drug dealer does the NFL got me started on the GOOD STUFF!! I was absolutely and irreversibly hooked on Football. This fact would be proven beyond all doubt to be true over the next 35 years of my addiction.
I don’t remember exactly when , how or where I became a Lions fan. I am sure it had something to do with the fact that I lived in Windsor. A Canadian city just across the border from Motown, home of the Honolulu Blue and Silver. It matters not, once I crossed that line and became a Lions fan there was no turning back. I am nothing if not loyal. It is difficult to put into words the degree of sheer futility and frustration my Sundays became. It was like everything the Steelers epitomized the Lions deliberately set out to make a mockery of. Never in sports history has there been a more hapless, mismanaged, disorganized, undisciplined and unlucky team. Starting at the top with an ownership (the Ford family) who proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that they had no idea whatever how to hire a front office with any clue how to build a winning football program right down to the guy selling popcorn in section 217, this team set a whole new standard of futility that will be almost impossible to match. In all the years I have watched this team they have come close only once to doing anything at all only to the very next year begin a slide that has continued to this very day. It isn’t like they didn’t have talent over the years. Detroit is where talented players went to die. They had high draft picks every year by virtue of their terrible record. These picks however were either squandered by inept scouting or meddling on the part of the Ford family or both. When by accident they did make a good pick their dismal coaching staff would be sure to snuff out any talent or competitive spirit that existed in the poor kid. The one saving grace of my addiction has been to have witnessed almost every single run Barry Sanders ever made. This side of a David Copperfield show you are never going to see magic like that to often. That time however seems to have been almost entirely obliterated by the ever growing heap of losing Lions seasons that have followed. Some say that the Lions were cursed 50 years ago by the great Bobby Lane who was the quarterback for the last Lions team to win a championship before it was even called the Super Bowl. After being traded by the Lions Lane in his frustration said “this team will not win again for 50 years“. Well the 50th year of that curse came and went last season in grand fashion with the leagues first 0-16 season. It was right around the time that the Lions were threatening to actually become a decent team that I actually thought maybe there was something to that curse. That year there Offensive line was decimated when a freak accident on and off the field took two of their best linemen. One was paralyzed from the neck down in an awful incident on the field while the other was run over by a Semi while weed whipping his front yard. First of all where do you live that a big rig can come across your lawn and takes you out? Secondly how the heck does that happen unless you play for a team that has been cursed by a disgruntled past employee? I could go on and on and on with story after story illustrating beyond a shadow of a doubt what would constitute in any normal persons mind grounds for termination of this sick obsession. Yet here I am still a Lions Fan.
So I appeal to anyone who will listen. I need an intervention. I just can’t do it on my own. I feel like that cowboy in Broke Back Mountain when he says to his boy friend. “I can’t quit you “. I still can’t wait for Sunday to come. I just know I will be leaving my family at Sunday brunch early again so I don’t miss the opening kickoff seeing as that may be the last moment that they are still in the game. What is it about this game that I just can’t get enough of. It is a violent and bloody sport where grown men collide with the force of a head on automobile collision. On purpose. It’s awesome. Imagine the courage required to stand waiting for a football to fall from the sky into your waiting hands while a heat seeking missile of a human being is bearing down on you with the full intention of doing permanent physical damage. Knowing that every play out on that field could be your last. Leaping into the air as high as you can to bring in a pass knowing that as soon as you catch that ball you are going to be hit right between your shoulder blades possibly leaving a permanent tattoo of the opposing team’s logo. I actually envision the day when I have my Super Bowl party and the Detroit Lions are one of the participants. That my friend is delusion of the highest order. Gooooo Lions!!!!

A True Legacy

literalarry — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 12:12:34 +0000

Have you ever been to a funeral and wondered what the scene would look like if it were you in the casket? I have and let me tell you it is a sobering question when you consider it. What is a worthwhile Legacy? When I am gone how will I be remembered? How many people will be in attendance and how many tears will be shed? What will be going through the minds of my children and my spouse? These are some of the questions that went through my mind recently and I have to tell you some of them made me squirm.

What is a worthwhile Legacy after all? Is it a numbers game? Our society seems to embrace the more is better philosophy. In sports if your stadiums are full the team is successful. Never mind that half those tickets may be purchased by businesses and given to people who wouldn’t know a touchdown from a home run. Even in religion the number of converts seems to matter more than whether or not they understand what they have converted to or if they will continue on in their faith. We have examples all the time of Celebrity funerals attended by thousands and televised to the masses. Michael Jackson is a recent example of this phenomenon. We seem to think that the more people in attendance at a funeral the better the person was. I guess to an extent this is true, but is it the whole story. In the case of Michael Jackson for instance, while his music inspired and moved many people does that count as a legacy or is it merely idol worship. Take the case of a very successful business man whose funeral is attended by a veritable throng of mourners. Is this an indication of the measure of the man or is it just a last business lunch held in his honor.

In my mind a person’s true legacy is defined by looking at the living examples of those who were closest to him or her in life. Their children, closest friends or spouses. After all the people on the periphery of a persons life only see what that person chooses to project as their image. The people closest to them see the real person flaws and all. They see them in every possible circumstance and crisis that life can dish out. This in my mind is the true measure of a person. This is their true Legacy. For in the final analysis if a man has won the hearts of every last human being on this planet and yet alienated those closest to him his legacy is flawed.

So it is my hope and prayer that if and when you attend my funeral some day and I am sure to have one, that you are struck by what you see in the eyes and hearts of my family and closest friends. I hope that you will see tears of course because they are necessary to heal. But more importantly I hope you will find love, kindness, joy, confidence, humility and every good quality we strive to master as we go through life. If somehow through my at times imperfect example and maybe even because of it I can affect change in the lives of those closest to me, then I will have left a living legacy worth celebrating. Those lives then will go on and improve upon my imperfections and so grows a healthy, vital and even holy Legacy that will endure and stand the test of time. If you also find that I have affected a larger circle of people that would just be icing on the cake.

So have I achieved this lofty definition of a legacy that I have set forth here? To some extent yes I have. I am afraid however that in some regards I have fell far short. There is a wonderful thing about legacies though. They are not complete until the day you do find yourself tastefully dressed for the first time in your life. I remember a particularly bad day in my life as a legacy builder that can serve as great example of this. My daughter had synchronized swimming lessons that I had to bring her to and somehow I drew the short straw and had to bring my son with me to make sure he did his homework while my daughter was in the pool. After finding out that he had forgotten to even bring the books he needed to complete his assignment I had one of my famous melt downs and proceeded to launch the Nerf football that I had brought as a reward for the completion of his homework at my young sons totally unsuspecting head. After a very quiet ride home in which time my blood was beginning to come back down to room temperature I proceeded to apologize to my son for my terrible behavior. I will never forget what he said to me. “Its ok dad, you can do better from now on “. Well as you can imagine my heart was broken and rejoicing at the same time. What a fine little guy we were raising. More importantly though. I could do better and I would do just that or at least try my best. So that is the great thing about legacies. It ain’t over until it’s over. So no matter if your kids are all grown and gone. They still need you and so do your grandchildren if you have any and don’t forget about that spouse of yours. No matter how long you have been married there is still more to invest in your marriage. Brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, friends….you get the idea. Remember it isn’t the size of the funeral that counts but how much of you is left behind in those that are there.

Beware the Grandchild

literalarry — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 17:33:33 +0000

So you thought you were home free did you? The last of the kids had flown the coop. You were finally after years of sacrifice starting to extricate yourself from the tangled web of parenthood. Cutting the emotional ties, separating yourself from the herd so to speak. Not that you don’t still love those kids of yours. I mean they will always be your kids. Bless their little hearts. But this is a whole new chapter. A fresh start with the Ole Lady. The house has never felt so empty, quiet, lonely, and did I mention QUIET. Ok I didn’t say there wouldn’t be some adjusting required. Allot of free time injected into your day all of a sudden can be a little boring if you’re not ready for it. Once you get a handle on it though you can start to think of the possibilities. More time for all the things you love to do like golfing, fishing, reading, romance etc. Remember how you talked about getting Harleys once the kids were gone? Well get your motor running. Head out on the Highway…………looking for adventure……..You know the song. You were born to be wild and darn it all that is just what you were gonna be.

Then it happened. One of your little angels got knocked up. Uh oh!! Don’t kids wait like 20 years now before they do this stuff? Guess not. Ok well this is good right. A grandchild. You can still be wild and a Grandparent right? Then the darn kid starts getting big and having morning sickness and calling the wife for advice and stuff. Calling your wife!!! That is not good. She is your Motor Cycle Momma now. No time for this nesting stuff anymore even if it is vicariously through her daughter. Oh what’s the harm? Just a little advice don’t panic. What’s that she wants to know if we can come over and fix up the nursery. I guess………….on the way to the Harley dealership right? Geez, don’t panic…..think happy thoughts.

Then all Holy Hell brakes loose. The daughter calls…………she is in labor. Holy crap you can’t believe what a Pandora’s Box of emotions is let loose upon your newly liberated psyche when you get that fatal phone call. You thought it was bad when your wife’s water broke? That ain’t nothing compared to this pal. This is your little girl. One call has just turned you into a bundle of the most frazzled nerves known to man. Every dooms day scenario ever conceived now invades your mind like something out of the worst Sci Fi flick you have ever seen. If you have any common sense at all you will let your wife…..er I mean the ole lady drive to the hospital. Oh and by the way if you have already purchased the Harley under no circumstances does it leave the garage on this occasion unless you have a death wish. You would be safer driving after 10 beers than doing so now. Once there and firmly implanted in the waiting room be ready for the worst gut wrenching episode of parental anxiety you will ever experience. Remember the pills the doctor prescribed when you were going through that particularly rough patch a few years back. Take a handful of those now. You will think at this point that time has stopped so as to allow Satan and all his minions to torture you at their leisure. While I can’t prove that this isn’t true I can say with some degree of certainty that it is probably just a nervous breakdown. I promise you that if you can survive this night you will be rewarded by the loss of your very heart by dawn.

It’s Dawn!!! Your darling daughter has conceived and you can pretty well kiss your manhood good bye at this point. Yes that is you crying like a baby in relief at the news you have just received that Mother and daughter are fine. That is not however where you lose your manhood. That occurs when you step foot into the delivery room and first lay eyes on your Grandchild. From this point onward my friend you are finished. Don’t worry about it though. You never really had a chance. None of us survives once having looked into the face of an angel. That is the way you talk now by the way. Other people will find this annoying but nothing can be done unfortunately. From the moment your daughter hands you that little wrinkled bundle you’re not the same. The little invader immediately starts to burrow its way into your heart and mind just like in the Invasion of the Body Snatchers. It’s like you are instantly hooked on a drug that makes crack look like Tylenol. You can’t wait to see her again and when you do you get this dopey smile on your face and start babbling like a 2 year old. You are now involved in an eternal struggle with the other set of parents for every possible moment of spare time to be spent with her. You will stop at nothing and stoop to every possible gambit to make sure it is you and not them who gets to have her overnight this weekend. All those annoying garage sales with all the baby stuff now become your treasure trove. All the empty rooms in your house start to fill up with strollers, toys, baby furniture and jolly jumpers. What a disaster you have gone from Bonnie and Clyde to Ozzie and Harriett in 24 hrs time.

So there you have it. It is a grim tale but one that is played out every day in hospitals far and wide. Take heart though I have heard tell of motorcycle riding grandparents but as for your new found freedom. Well the good news is your kids won’t let you have complete custody so you still end up with more time than before. The bad news is all your extra time will be spent spouting off about how wonderful, beautiful, cute and smart your grandchild is. So just relax and enjoy it. This side of heaven you won’t find anything better believe you me.

When Am I?

literalarry — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 12:06:15 +0000

Ever wonder if you are something or just a wannabe? Why is it so hard to become something in life? Who makes the rules? Who sets the criteria? What are the parameters? How long does it take to become what it is we want to become? It can be exhausting. So much so in fact that many of us collapse in a heap of insecurities before we even begin becoming.

Becoming what? You might ask. Well for example since I’m becoming one right now a writer. When is a person a writer may I ask? After one novel? Perhaps two. Maybe once we have had an article published in a newspaper or periodical. How about a blog does that count? It seems like cheating to me. I mean anyone can do that right? Now here is a real stretch. What about someone who writes just for themselves? No one else ever reads it. Not a sentence. Is that person a WRITER!! I wonder. This is a novel idea don’t you think? Novel idea, that was a play on words, did you like it. I just thought it was something a writer might do. Back to my point. Oh wait I haven’t made one yet. Ok further back the premise. Is that person a WRITER!! Is that a premise? Oh well I’ll figure it out later.

This may sound radical but I do believe that they ARE a WRITER. I mean what is a writer if not someone who writes? We can sort out all the other details later can’t we? That could simply be accomplished by adding adjectives like good, bad, accomplished, scintillating, Pulitzer Prize winning…………you get the idea. The point is just as it is true that “I think therefore I am” it is also true that “I do therefore I am” So never let anyone tell you that you are not a Writer or an Artist or a Musician or a Runner because you haven’t been published, sold a painting, written a symphony or run a marathon. Isn’t it in the doing that we become? So let it be known from this day forward that once you have embarked upon the road leading to that which you wish to become my fellow traveler. You have begun becoming and therefore may in all good conscience and honesty declare………I AM!!!!

So get out there my friend! Whatever the desire of your heart might be, begin becoming. Hurry before you talk yourself out of it. If it’s a musician go out and get that guitar, take the pick and just strum it………sounds good huh? A runner you say? Buy some shoes and run to the mail box. Unless your in a rural setting, then maybe the end of the driveway. Didn’t that feel good? Maybe it’s an artist screaming to be released. Go buy some water colors and don’t even think about it; paint that picture of your mother in law. It might be good therapy at the same time. (She deserves to look like that)

Just as a small point of interest this new decree may not apply to certain professions such as a Doctor for example. Not every decree is perfect.