Self Reliance vs. Victimhood

I've been hearing a little bit about how the city of Gary, Indiana and the surrounding area has been without electricity for about two weeks, after some major storms knocked out the power.  This brings me back to when we had a major derecho in my neck of the woods.  I'm not going to try to compare the severity of the events, because I experienced the derecho, whereas I'm only reading about the storms in Gary, so I have a biased belief that my storm was worse.  As a result, any attempt at comparison would be something like saying my dad's lung cancer is worse than your mom's pancreatic cancer.  What I am going to do is talk about our responses to the event.

As I read the story about Gary,  I consumed a story about victimhood...  Oh, woe is me.  We've been without power for two weeks.  Who will save us?  This wasn't my first exposure to the story, but it was my first deep dive.  After reading this story, I continued on and read a couple of additional articles, and the trend was similar... the residents of Gary, Indiana are victims of a natural disaster, and they're frustrated or underserved by the public infrastructure that's supposed to help in this type of circumstance.

As I absorbed these stories, I thought back to the derecho that hit me, and the 500 year flood that had hit just over a decade earlier.  I also thought back to Hurricane Katrina when it hit New Orleans in 2005.  Here's my overall observation:  When we got hit by the derecho, we were also without power.  My house was without power for eight days, and I personally knew people who went without electricity for two weeks.  Portions of my city were completely isolated for days due to trees completely blocking roads.  When we saw the devastation, we pooled our resources and started digging our way out ourselves.  Neighbors shared chainsaws, manpower, and vehicles, and we started clearing the roads as citizens.

I knew I'd be without power for a while, so I called up a friend in a nearby town and asked if I could store meat from my small freezer in his deep freezer, and he happily agreed.  I kept a small amount of frozen meat and all of my frozen veggies, and moved my perishables from the refrigerator to the freezer, converting it into an icebox.  I ate food as it thawed, cooking on the grill on my deck.  I climbed on the roof and patched the hole that had been punched through it by a tree with expandable spray foam I happened to have on hand, and covered the hole where my fireplace chimney had been with a tarp.  Once I had finished taking care of the minor breaches in my home's integrity, I volunteered to assist others.

My mindset was quite typical.  People and businesses who had power restored early on put power strips on their porches, so that neighbors could charge their cell phones.  People with generators offered to let neighbors store insulin in their refrigerator.  My point is that we banded together and started rebuilding ourselves.  We didn't wait for others to come bail us out.

The story in Gary is a story of victimhood.  The story of Katrina was a story of helplessness. The overarching, repeating theme in both cases are that the residents are waiting for rescue, whereas my story was a story of self-reliance and resilience.

I can't help but wonder how much of these stories are the real, full story, vs. a media fabrication.  I keep asking myself if my case was unique or if it was spun by the storytellers.  I question if I'm misremembering things, but can't help but believe my memories are accurate.  Let's assume I'm right, just for a moment...

What does that mean for American society?  If my little pocket is the exception and not the rule, what does that mean for American resilience and exceptionalism?  Is it effectively dead?  Have we turned into a country of victims, unable to persevere during times of adversity, destined to rely on the help of others?

But if I'm wrong, what does that mean for the state of journalism?  Has the fourth pillar devolved to the point where it no longer serves the public, and is instead only interested in producing a story that will engage the reader, even to the extend of skewing reality beyond the realm of fact?

I suspect that both are true, which is even worse. 

Good. He Should Be Charged!

 

I read an article this morning saying that the an Air Force major is going to be charged essentially for protesting in uniform. I support the administration for pressing charges. While everyone is entitled to exercise their first amendment rights, military personnel are prohibited from doing so in uniform. This is because the military is supposed to be non-partisan. As soon as the uniform is donned, you cease speaking or acting as an individual and you assume the role of Airman, Sailor, Soldier or Marine.

 

I fully expect this officer knew what he was doing. I am confident he sees himself as a martyr. While I acknowledge that his actions required a strength of conviction, I strongly disagree with how he chose to express his position.

Allergies Suck

Let me start by saying this is a minor inconvenience.  I have seasonal allergies.  My specific symptoms include itchy, watery eyes, nasal congestion, runny nose, sneezing, a little bit of congestion in my lungs, and occasional bouts of eczema.  It's not wildly different from a cold.  Unfortunately, I have spring and fall allergies.  Maybe that's part of why I love summer so much.  The spring pollen is gone, the fall pollen hasn't yet arrived, and I get the sun and heat that's sorely lacking in the winter.

I should clarify that I take daily allergy medicine to combat the symptoms.  That's tremendously helpful.  Back in the day, I spent months suffering from allergies, and the only relief I could find was from Benadryl, which just knocked me on my @$$.  I also did the allergy shots for several years.  That helped too.  Unfortunately, I didn't get to complete the treatment plan because of my divorce from wife 1.0.  Regardless though, the shots helped a lot.  I'm a lot less susceptible to allergens than I was before the shots.

It still doesn't help days like today.  I'm having a miserable allergy day.  It's the ragweed.  Unfortunately, I can't take the Benadryl, because I have too much to do, and I can't afford to be a zombie.  Allergies suck! 

Why I Give

I was asked to give a quick speech in church yesterday, discussing why I give/serve.  It was a little weird for me, because I'm not bit into tooting my own horn, specifically when it comes to my charity work.  I've long believed that the best charity work is done anonymously.  While I have occasionally discussed certain facets of my volunteer work, I don't believe I've ever shared everything I do, all at once, with a large group of people.  In this case though, I understood what my pastor was trying to accomplish, so I took one for the team, and discussed why, where and how I give.

I serve on the church's worship team, primarily as a bass player, though I've occasionally been known to sing harmonies or play six string.  This one is primarily for selfish reasons.  I serve on the worship team because it forces me to practice and play music.  If it wasn't for the worship team, my guitars and bass would just sit around and collect dust.  Furthermore, music is one of the two times I feel closest to God.  (The other time is when I'm communing with nature.)  When it comes to music though, I have to be playing it.  Singing along with the congregation from the pews isn't the same.  When I'm playing, I feel like a conduit.

I volunteer with the Humane Society.  Each month, I take a dog to a nearby nursing home to interact with the residents.  I do this because I love dogs, and because it provides an opportunity for me to serve an overlooked segment of society.  I genuinely believe that humans don't deserve the unconditional love that dogs give us, and I can't describe the satisfaction I receive when I see a resident light up when I bring a dog for them to pet.

I'm active in the veteran community.  This is partially because I'm a vet.  It's more because I see that veterans, as a group, have given more to our society than virtually another demographic, and they pay a far higher price for that service.  They have earned our respect and deserve our service.

I donate money to an area faith-based nonprofit that focuses on housing and food insecurity.  This charity holds an annual event where they fix up houses for homeowners who could otherwise not afford it.  This work ranges from painting the exterior to replacing appliances, to structural repairs, and everything in between.  The work is done by volunteers and area trades experts, and paid for by community fundraising.  Additionally, they have a few houses and apartments that they've renovated and rent out at below-market prices.  They have a nonprofit grocery store in an area that used to be a food desert.  They have a pay-it-forward nonprofit cafe, and they supplement these food locations with an urban farm.  I donate money to this group because I remember what it's like to struggle to pay rent.  I remember going weeks without eating meat so I could put nutritious food into my kids' bellies.  I remember what it was like as a kid, not having the nice clothes.

I don't do this because I'm obedient to God, per se. In fact, most people who know me would probably not use the word obedient to describe me.  I don't do it to follow a rule.  I do it out of love for my fellow human being.  I do it because I can.

As I finished my talk, I shared that it doesn't matter why, where, or how often you give.  It only matters that you give.  I hope that by sharing where, why and how I give that my reason for each of my charitable involvements had a unique reason, and that service can take many different forms.  I hope I touched a couple of hearts that might now consider a couple of new ideas for their own community involvement.

Bye Bye, Boy

Grandson is on his way back home today.  The house feels unusually quiet, despite his being here for only three weeks.  I guess I got used to his presence.

I won't miss the mess he left in his wake.

I won't miss telling him to do things that is common sense for an adult to do, such as flushing the toilet.

I won't miss watching him fall into the abyss of his cell phone.

I won't miss him arguing with his little cousin.

I will miss the trash talk.

I will miss the mundane conversation about nothing in particular.

I will miss him at the gym and Marine PT.

I will miss cooking with and for him.

I will miss playing video games with him.

I will miss him arguing with his little cousin, despite what I said earlier. 

I will miss him. 

Speaking of the Middle East...

Today's post is a coincidental follow-up to yesterday's topic of the mess in the middle east.  I read an article reporting that Saudi Arabia, Turkey and Pakistan just signed a defense treaty.  From my perspective, this is an interesting development, which resulted from a worldwide understanding that the U.S. is no longer a reliable partner.  To clarify, all of these countries are considered American allies.  For example, Saudi Arabia was our staging area for Desert Storm, and Pakistan allowed us to cross their borders into Afghanistan.  In other words, it's not automatically a problem, but it is a potential complication.

India is understandably wary of this news, because of their tense relations with Pakistan.  Iran is probably concerned, because they have a tense relationship with Saudi Arabia, though Iran is downplaying the news.  Turkey has been trying to get into the EU for a long time, so this may be their way of thumbing their noses at EU officials who won't let Turkey join.  All in all, I believe that each country stands to benefit economically and militarily.

I find it a amusing that some in the U.S. are concerned about this, and it feels like those most concerned are the biggest supporters of America First.  Like I said above, we have shown the world that we're no longer a reliable partner.  If the biggest kid in the schoolyard stops protecting you and starts bullying you, it's only reasonable to link up with other kids and promise to help each other out.  What did you think would happen?

The Middle East Mess

I was prompted to discuss my thoughts on the mess in the Middle East, specifically the Israel-Palestine conflict.  In order to explain my perspective though, we need a not-so-little history lesson.

Let's start with the basics.  Ancient Israel goes back thousands of years.  The Bible shows the Israelites warring with many nations, and archaeologists seem to agree that frequent conflict was pretty much how society looked in that area at that time.  Heck, the Israelites couldn't even agree amongst themselves, resulting in the area splitting into two separate countries -- Israel and Judah.  Both kingdoms fell well before 500 BCE.  In other words, Israel ceased to exist as a nation well before Christ was born.  The temple in Jerusalem was under Roman rule during Christ's life, as is verified in many biblical passages.  When the kingdom(s) of Israel fell, the Jewish people were scattered across the world, though they did hold their faith, traditions, and bloodlines over time.  This is generally known as the diaspora.

Over the following centuries, the Jewish people suffered persecution, though the oppression was not universal.  In fact, many Jewish settlements were quite integrated into local societies.  In my opinion, this experience is not radically different from any minority ethnic group throughout history.  So let's fast forward to World War II, where we all know what happened.

As a direct result of the Holocaust, the United Nations got together and decided to create a new nation of Israel.  There's a lot of geopolitical stuff I don't fully understand, so I'm not going to try to explain it, because I may get it wrong.  The result, however, is pretty straight forward.  A lot of Arabs lost their land.  If I were in their position, I'd be a little cranky about having my land taken from me and given to someone else, so I can understand the tension.

Since then, the Arabs have tried a couple of times to take the land back by force.  In one instance, (the Six Day War,) a bunch of Arab countries tried to gang up on Israel all at once, and got their collective asses kicked.  In fact, Israel ended up taking a bunch or land from them in the process.  Israeli ownership of the West Bank and Gaza strip are contested territory to this day.  In my personal opinion on this event, the Arabs tried to bully Israel, got their asses kicked, and lost the land fair and square.

Let's deviate just for a quick second and talk about Palestine. For the record, there has never been a country called Palestine.  Not in the way we think of countries today, with universally recognized borders.  Palestinians are a group of people from that geographical area.  It's more accurate to think of Ancient Palestine how you would think of Ancient Israel.  I'm not saying that the Palestinians are unworthy of a country.  From where I sit, they are probably as worthy as the Jewish people who now live in Israel.  The big difference is that the Palestinians didn't face global extinction like the Jews did, so they haven't received the same level of global sympathy.  Anyway, back to the history lesson...

Since Israel became a state, they have had to fight tooth and nail for their existence as a country.  Many Arab countries have said quite plainly that they want to wipe Israel from the map.  I'm not sure that Arabs hate Jews like we are led to believe, but it's reasonably clear that Arab countries disagree with the idea of Zionism, which is the desire for the Jewish people to have a nation that's recognized and secured by law.  Heck, it's theoretically possible that the Arabs would be okay with Israel existing, as long it's not on "their land."  Typical NIMBYism, I guess.  I'd like to clarify this all conjecture on my part.

Now, let's talk about America's support of Israel.  As far as I can tell, there is a very high correlation between Fundamental Christianity and support for Israel as a nation.  In other words, it seems to me that the most ardent support for Israel is based on Christian faith, rather than humanistic or political reasons.  Based on many, many conversations I've had on this subject, I've come to the personal conclusion that this is based on Biblical prophesy indicating that Israel will be restored when Jesus returns.  This would seem to indicate that if Israel were to cease being a country, we would by extension no longer be in the end of days.  Assuming I'm correct, this means that faith is the root of America's unfailing support for Israel's existence.

The thing is, Israel is very heavy-handed in its efforts to maintain its existence.  This means that the human rights of ethnic Arabs are not always observed, especially in the occupied areas I mentioned before.  This, understandably, could make some Arabs in the region a little cranky.  I can absolutely recognize why some of these oppressed individuals might choose violence to voice their opposition to their situation.

This all leads to my conclusion.  The Jews and Arabs have been fighting for as long as Israel has been a country.  Heck, their ancestors have been warring for thousands of years.  This anger and hostility is nothing new.  Furthermore, many, many countries have worked for longer than I've been alive to bring about peace in this region, to no avail.  This is because both Arabs and Jews are unwilling to compromise.  Both sides have committed atrocities in the name of independence or protecting their homeland, and both sides have legitimate grievances against their foes. While it's reasonable to strive for a permanent end to hostilities in the region, it is folly to believe that it's imminent, and hubris for any one individual to believe they can single-handedly make it happen.

I'd also like to point out that problems in the Middle East are not restricted to conflict between Jews and Arabs.  There is also a high level of conflict between Shiite Muslims and Sunni Muslims, but that's a complete story in itself, so it's a topic for another day.

Must Be in the Blood

Though he's only 13, I've taken my grandson to weekly PT with the Marine Corps recruiters and poolees on delayed entry.  The kid's been crushing it!

Last week we did an Indian run, with the added twist of a medicine ball.  The boy kept up and actually outperformed a good number of the poolees and other guests.  Yesterday, we did our monthly Initial Strength Test, which consists of each person doing a max set of pull-ups, a timed plank, and a 1.5 mile run.  The boy did 7 pull-ups, planked for the max time of 3:45, and ran the 1.5 miles in just over 10 minutes.  He outperformed poolees and other guests in every single event.

After we all finished our pull-ups, I asked the poolees to raise their hands if they did 10 or fewer pull-ups.  About half raised their hands, and I said "Congratulations, you just got beat by an old man."  I then asked the poolees to raise their hands if they did fewer than 7 pull-ups.  About a third kept their hands up.  To them, I continued with "Congratulations, you just got beat by an old man AND a thirteen year old boy."  When we finished the planks, the kids who hadn't maxed their time at 3:45 were standing in a group off to the side.  I looked over at them and said, "Congrats on getting out-planked by a 13 year old boy and an old man.  You suck!  Do better!"

I didn't do that for the run, though I should have.  The boy was one of the fastest ones there, finishing fourth, and I pulled out a personal best run time of 12:18, finishing faster than about 1/3 of the kids.  The recruiters seem to be enjoying the boy's presence.  I'm sure it is disheartening for these kids to get their asses kicked so mercilessly by the boy and me, and it should motivate them to do better.  Lord knows I'm proud of the boy.  It must be in the blood.

Not the Way

As this Cyclosporiasis thing is still going strong because of bad lettuce, I'm now reading there's a problem with jalapenos.  It's almost as if the universe it trying to tell us that a global mega food chain, full of an exploited work force, while simultaneously woefully lacking in product diversity, is not the way.

 #EatLocal

Some Things Stick With You...

I saw the movie Parenthood almost 40 years ago.  There's a scene from that movie that really hit home, even as a young man who hadn't yet had children. I still paraphrase the scene, and try diligently to live by it when I'm feeling overwhelmed.  I'd love to share the clip with you.

The Forgotten Art of Personalized Service

One thing that online retailers and big box stores cannot provide is highly personalized service, and I had forgotten the wonder of that level of attentiveness and expertise. My running shoes were wearing out and it was time to replace them. As is the case with many consumer goods, there is a dizzying variety of choice, and finding the best option can be a bit overwhelming. I've done the whole research-to-death thing, and quite frankly I'm a bit tired of it, so I decided to hit a store that specializes in running shoes, and I'm glad I went. 

I chose my spot, and the sales guy provided the exact expertise I need. We started by verifying my shoe size with a podoscope, which measures not just foot size, but arch height and other smaller details to provide a more customized fit. Next they asked me to run on a treadmill for a minute so they could record my running gait, again to find shoes that would match my body type. In this instance, they were looking for indication of excessive ankle rolling. From there, we discussed the frequency, distance and terrain of my typical run, and then Andy brought out about a half dozen shoes for me to try. Next, I walked around the store directly comparing different shoes. Wearing one of each shoe allowed me to directly compare and contrast, making it easy to select the best shoe for my needs. He also showed me inserts and socks to try out. The inserts didn't do anything for me, but I did pick up a pair of socks.

Another really cool item to note:  I was prepared to pay a small premium for the additional service, but was pleasantly surprised to discover that prices were in line with far larger competitors.  In fact, I received a discount for being a veteran, so I actually paid less.  It was great to rediscover the forgotten art of personalized service.

We have a boy!

Wifey and I fetched older grandson from Chicago yesterday morning.  We’ve got him for an extended visit, and I’m excited that he’s here.  After picking him up, we drove to downtown Chicago for a bit of sightseeing.  The original plan was to take him to the observation deck at Sears Tower, but the tickets were about $50 bucks a pop, and we had to wait for an hour, so we passed.  Wifey had considered getting advanced tickets, but we had no guarantee that we’d be able to make it, considering flight and traffic delays.

From there, we walked through the park, showing off the bean and the public water park area, after which we walked down Michigan Avenue.  We stopped in a couple of shoe stores at the boy’s request and introduced him to Pizzeria Due’s deep dish Chicago style pizza.

We left Chicago around 5:00 PM, at the peak of rush hour.  GPS sent us home via a path that's different from my tried-and-true method, and from there I made a mistake that cost us an extra hour of drive time.  Instead of following the GPS start to finish, I followed a US highway that I usually take.  Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that road cuts south, and goes through a ton of towns in the previously unexplored area.  The result was that I drove more miles, at a slower pace.  That’s a mistake I won’t make again.  Instead of getting home at about 9:30, we got home at 10:30.  Oh well, live and learn.  In the grand scheme of things, this is a first world problem.

Oh, on the good side, I got record high MPG in my little Murano.  I had a portion of travel where my average MPG was 32+ MPG, and the average mileage was 28 MPG for the tank. To put this in perspective, EPA estimates are 28 MPG highway, and my driving was combination.  My mileage was about 15% better than advertised.  And no, I didn't drive like a grandpa.  I'm too young at heart for that $h!+.

Words Matter

At my reunions this month, I was reminded how much words matter, specifically mine in this case.  During both of these events, I had people tell me about things I had said that stuck with them, sometimes for decades.  In many of these cases, I was just being a smart@$$, making off-handed comments.  That makes it all the more interesting, because my off the cuff comments somehow managed to have a lasting impact on people.

One of my high school classmates thanked me for the last minute reminder on Facebook.  He said he thought the reunion was a week later, and would have missed it if I hadn't sounded off.

One classmate's spouse reminded me of a work tidbit I had shared with him years and years ago.  I said "Those who can't do, manage.  Those who can't manage, do."  In this context, I was referring to managers vs. staff in the workforce.  He and I were coworkers at the time.  To me, it was a tongue-in-cheek variation of the old adage "Those who can't do, teach."  But it somehow stuck with him for twenty years.

I had multiple people, classmates and Marines alike, tell me that they appreciate my writing, because I come across as thoughtful and reasoned.  In this context, they were referring to my posts on Facebook.

One guy told me that he appreciated how I had called him out on some previous bullying behavior.  There are other instances, but they all follow this line of thought, and I believe I've cited enough specific instances to make my point...

There are two things I'm trying to communicate here:  1) I'm low key celebrating the knowledge that my tidbits of wisdom occasionally make a difference.  Too often in life, it feels like my words fall on deaf ears.  It's good to know that's not always the case.  2) Every piece of feedback was about good things I said.  I know that I am sarcastic and blunt in my delivery, but I try diligently to live a life that spreads the good and the love... you know... like a f*ck1ng hippie.  It's good to hear that my attempt to celebrate the good strikes home at least sometimes.

Class Reunion

I just returned from a high school class reunion.  It was a blast!  This was the third reunion I've attended, and each time it's a little different.  The first one was not too long after graduation, and it was a bit like an extension of high school.  People tended to kind of hang around with their high school cliques, reliving their glory days.  A few even tried to assert social dominance like they did in school.  It wasn't exactly bullying; it was more like bragging and exaggerating accomplishments.  At that reunion, I appreciated my friends and welcomed new real connections with classmates that had moved past high school, but the primary feeling I left with was contempt for the high school elite who wanted nothing more to relive their glory days and brag.

The second reunion I attended was another milestone reunion, and I saw a significant change in my classmates.  While we did focus on catching up with our close high school friends at first, we also quickly engaged with classmates we knew but didn't necessarily hang out with a lot.  There was still reliving of the glory days by those who had peaked in high school, but for the most part, we had collectively moved past those days.  The ones who wanted to relive the glory days kind of ended up in a corner, talking amongst themselves, while the rest of us enjoyed getting reacquainted and sharing life stories.

This reunion essentially saw the complete disappearance of high school drama and hang-ups.  Yeah, there were still one or two people who had peaked in high school trying to relive the glory days, but they were essentially ostracized.  They'd kind of insert themselves into random conversations, make one or two comments that were ignored, and they'd move on to the next group.  It was kind of pitiful, except for the fact that they brought the reactions themselves based on their behavior.

We spent a lot of time at a local sports bar, which was okay, but not ideal.  It was great because it was big enough to fit everyone, and it offered food and beverages for everyone, but it was kind of loud.  But there was an underlying understanding that we wanted to ensure that we made the event free to attend, so that nobody was excluded for financial reasons.  The bar scene also provided ample opportunity to mingle.

We toured our local high school, which recently had a massive upgrade and expansion to the athletic center.  There was a new swimming pool and a new indoor track and field center, both of which were spectacular.  It's unfortunate that this is being built at a time when school enrollment is falling due to declining birth rates, but them's the breaks.

The older (academic) part of the building was much as we remembered it, though many of us commented that things felt smaller than when we were kids.  For me, the band room in particular brought back a lot of nostalgia, because that's the single area where I spent the majority of my time.

It was awesome to see a lot of people I hadn't seen since graduation, and it was great to catch up with everyone (aside from the one or two reliving their glory days.)  It was also wonderful to know that most of us had moved on.  I had one classmate ask me point blank if I'd go back.  I said no, I'd choose a lot of other points in my life to revisit, but not high school, adding on that I pitied those who peaked in high school.  She fully agreed, and we had a moment.

None of that, however, was my favorite part.  For me, the best part was catching up with my second set of parents.  I stayed with the parents of my friend Greg.  For those of you who don't know (or don't recall,) Greg was my best friend for years and years.  We knew each other since sixth grade, and we were inseparable until he committed suicide a bit under 11 years ago.  I've always loved, respected and appreciated his parents, and it was a no-brainer to ask if I could stay with them during the reunion weekend.  I made a point to spend time with them each day, and spending time with them was the highlight of the weekend.

If you're a regular reader, you know that my relationship with my parents is... strained.  That's a side note to this story, but I felt the need to bring this up for anyone who wondered why I didn't stay with them.  My main point is this:  I am blessed.  Within the last month, I was able to attend two reunions with two completely separate groups of people who had an outsized impact on my life -- my Marines, and my high school classmates.  I have a pair of chosen parents that I love and value just for who they are, not because I owe it to them.  I have a great wife who happily joined me, even though neither group is "hers."  And these friends accepted her for who she is, without reservation.

I Broke Him

I broke my first poolee at Marine PT yesterday.  And when I say broke, I mean that I single-handedly broke the will and spirit of a poolee to the extent that he dropped from the program.

Before you create a narrative in your head that makes me sound unusually harsh, badass or sadistic, let me clarify that I didn’t go full drill instructor or anything like that, but I was probably about as close as I get with these kids.  I am fully cognizant that I am not an active duty Marine, and my job is to serve the recruiters, further the mission of the Marine Corps, and represent the Marine Corps League.  It is not my place to weed out the weak, and I have never actively tried to do so.  Here’s what happened…

We had a new kid, who kind of reminded me of the kid I called private Pyle… the kid who washed out earlier this year.  We were doing bodyweight exercises, such as push-ups, burpees, planks, etc. and we were running.

We were broken up into two teams, with me leading one team, and a young reservist Marine leading the other.  It was a contest, and I was pushing my team.  Bear in mind that I was also doing the exercises with them.  I was leading them as if I were active duty, which means ensuring they were sounding off loud and proud, and giving their all.  This kid in particular had a hard time keeping up.  At first I kept yelling for him to push harder.  When his body was physically unable to do so, I’d give him a couple of reps off, yelling that he’d continue with us when we hit the next five.  For example, he dropped on push-up twelve.  On rep 13, I told him that he would join back in at 15.

This continued for a while, until he dropped on an exercise, which we finished without him.  He was sitting on the grass, arms wrapped around his knees, head between the knees.  I asked him if he was ready to join us, in a conversational tone.  He looked up at me and his face was a snotty, tear streaked mess.  I took him to a recruiter, saying in our Marine Corps, joking-yet-seroious demeanor “I think I broke him.”  This was far enough out of the ordinary that I wanted a recruiter to step in, because again, I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.  I went back outside and continued with my team.

A short time later, the kid jumped into a vehicle with a recruiter and left.  As the kid entered the truck, he popped his head back out and hollered Thank you for the opportunity, Marine Evan.  I suspected that meant he was permanently finished, but was focused on leading my team of poolees, so I set the comment aside for a bit.  When we finished PT, I talked to the recruiter, who confirmed that the kid was indeed done, permanently, and he told me the story.

It turns out that the kid has an abusive mom, who yells at him a lot.  This means he’s really sensitive to it.  He had hoped that PT sessions could get him used to it before boot camp, but unfortunately, it triggered him and he broke.  He told the recruiter that he appreciated the opportunity, but he needed to go back on his antidepressants.  So, I did not actively seek to break anyone.  What really happened was that I stumbled across a fatal flaw and brought it to light.  From my perspective, it’s less offensive that the kid find out now, rather than breaking while in boot camp.  In that respect, I guess I did help further the mission of the Marine Corps.

A Different Breed

 
In a recent post, my friend Sunny asked if we (referring to our generation) are a different breed.  The crux of the post is a philosophical question asking if we would have cared more or been less mischievous if we had social media.  Sunny claims that she would be far more cautious, because she was concerned about what others knew about her.  Conversely, kids today do attention-grabbing stuff just for the sake of getting attention.  While her comment is not fully inaccurate, I do think it's a bit... incomplete.

I'd like to start by sharing a truism:  Every generation believes they're special and unique, and they unfailingly deride their descendants as softer and weaker, while simultaneously dismissing previous generations as out of touch for failing to understand the unique challenges of the day.  I'd like to propose the idea that two opposing philosophies can be true, and use my experience as an example.  I'm gonna go with the crazy short version, because I'm trying to make a point.

My mom's dad fought in WWII as a Marine.  He saw some serious shit!  Many, many men from that generation saw shit that nobody should have to witness, and it was considered normal.  However, after they got home, things reverted to normalcy.  That generation saw the largest economic boom in American history, and when my grandfather died, he literally had stacks of gold coins in his house.  Between that and investments, my mom and her siblings inherited a nice little nest egg.  His was the last generation where an employee could expect to work a lifetime with a single company and receive a gold watch at retirement time.  They were a different breed.

My dad grew up relatively poor.  Born in the mid-1940's, his childhood home had an outhouse... within the city limits.  But he was able to attend college at an affordable cost, and do so as the sole breadwinner for the family.  My mom was a stay-at-home mom, but this was relatively unusual for my generation.  Most of my friends had two-person incomes, but it was optional during this time.  They were a different breed.

Despite the fact that my mom stayed at home, I was for all intents and purposes a latchkey kid.  I was generally kicked out of the house in the morning and told to not come home until meal time.  I can't count how many times I'd come home because I needed to use the bathroom, but the door was locked and my mom wouldn't answer.  I'd piss in the back yard, drink from the garden hose, and continue on my merry way.  For lack of a better way to phrase it, my mom was the worst combination of neglect and helicopter parent, and because I was in a one income family, I was relatively poor.  I joined the military so I could afford college, because this was when costs had just started to skyrocket.  We were a different breed.

My kids had two working parents; they were on the very tail end of free range parenting, and at the very early end of social media.  Many of their peers were borderline neglected, finding "friendship" through social media.  They're also the first generation to experience participation trophies and where there's no such thing as failing at school.  We all know how that's turned out.  They were a different breed.

My grandkids are growing up in an age where their every move and every feeling is monitored and parsed.  Kids of today can't do anything without it being recorded, and every feeling needs counseling.  People from my generation and before are dismayed, and deride this as soft, but we need to acknowledge this isn't the kids' fault.  They are a different breed.

Now, let's wrap this back to the beginning.  Yeah, kids do attention-grabbing stuff, but this is nothing new.  I grew up in an era with the class clown.  Every boy wanted to get with the cheerleader, and we were all jealous of the adoration the team quarterback received.  We all wanted attention, and sought it in our own way.  The difference was the lack of social media.  It's not that kids have changed.  They still want to be loved and adored.  The big difference is that the stage is far larger, so it's far more difficult to stand out.  So yes, we are a different breed, but that's true of every generation.

Another Reason for Socialized Medicine

I read an article today that said roughly 25% of working people stay in their job just for the health insurance.  Not surprisingly, the rate is higher among people with lower income, and those with chronic health conditions.

This, in my opinion, is another reason to implement socialized medicine in the US.  I have had jobs that absolutely sucked, and the only reason I kept them was because I needed healthcare for my family, food, and rent, so I understand being trapped in a horrible job.  Unlinking healthcare and employment would be good for labor, because one of the shackles that keeps people tied to a $h!++y job would be released.

This, of course, is exactly why I suspect that business likes the current healthcare system.  After all, it's more difficult for me to leave an employer if my health and financial well-being are on the line as a result of being without insurance.  Another consideration is that larger businesses can use healthcare benefits as a competitive advantage to attract and retain high-quality employees.  The implication of this reality is that socialized medicine could also serve to level the playing field for smaller businesses, because the administrative cost for employee insurance tend to decrease as headcount increases.

Regardless, I still feel it's time to try something different.  We have the highest healthcare costs in the world, yet we still have millions with no insurance.  But I've beaten this drum before...

Fancy Googling

I played with AI a bit today, asking it to tell me about the author of a certain blog.  It was a pretty good synopsis.  Overall it provided reasonably accurate demographic information.  It also gave a fair assessment of the author's writing style, interests, and areas of expertise.

Bonding With the Bike

After leaving my Marines, I headed a little further south, to Robbinsville, NC, to spend some time on the wonderful twisty roads of the area.  I took Highway 129 and rode Tail of the Dragon... five times.  Once I finished with that, I headed toward Robbinsville to check in to my room.

I should have followed the signs instead of the GPS on my bike, but I didn't.  I ended up hopelessly lost.  I probably rode every mile of a nearby Cherokee reservation while trying to find my bearings.  At one point, I ended up on a rock/dirt road that led to the most difficult riding I've encountered - ever.  This was more trail than road, full of large rocks, ruts and mud puddles.  I eventually reached a point where I knew that continuing down that road would lead to disaster, but turning around was tricky in its own rite.  I have to admit, this was the most concerning moment of the entire trip.  I was in the middle of nowhere, with no phone cell service and I had no idea how far I was from the nearest help.  I was nervous that I'd drop the bike while making the 500-point U-turn on that teeny, hilly, muddy road, but I made it out.  From there, I finally found a sign, but went the wrong way...

I had planned to ride the Cherohala Skyway; it's beautiful.  I didn't want to do it exactly then, but that's where the wrong turn took me.  If I'd have turned left, I'd have been in Robbinsville in minutes. I ended up going right and following the Cherohala Skyway for its entire route... in the pouring rain... which brought a bunch of that famous Smoky Mountain fog... and road crews were doing tree trimming, so there were areas covered in crushed wood, leaves and random other debris on the road.  The water soaked through my rain gear.

I'd like to clarify that I was never scared or worried on the Skyway.  My plan was to get somewhere that had cell service and write down directions to the hotel, but something better happened.  I got into a small town and gassed up.  Another rider was there at the same time, and we chatted about our situation.  It turned out he was going back to Robbinsville as well, so I just followed him.  Once we got back, we hit a diner and swapped rider stories.  After dinner, I retired to my room and enjoyed the sleep of the dead. 

To the uninitiated, this might sound a bit harrowing.  While my brief off-road adventure gave me a moment of concern, I was not horribly worried, because my life was not in imminent danger.  From my perspective, running the tail was perfect, followed by a misadventure.  And let's face it: Misadventures make the best stories.

We Interrupt This Broadcast

I received a call from my older daughter yesterday, informing me that her husband's mistress showed up at their doorstep.  This woman has had to endure far more than her share of hardship, and more drama than any one person deserves.  I am going to refrain from further comment for the moment, and focus on supporting my daughter and grandson.

We now return you to your regularly schedule blog posts. 

My Marines

Continuing my story about my Epic Vacation... 

I arrived in Pigeon Forge on Thursday, for a reunion with a bunch of buddies from my Marine Corps unit.  The cabin we stayed at was actually in the countryside, roughly halfway between Pigeon Forge and Sevierville.  Calling the place a cabin is a bit of an understatement though.  It was three stories, with a pool table, a swimming pool, two hot tubs, and a two-lane duck pin bowling alley.  The kitchen had two stoves, two dishwashers, two refrigerators, and the dining room had two massively long tables.  It was absolutely wild!  We spent a ton of time on the deck off the main floor, consuming adult beverages and just catching up.

I hadn't seen one of the guys who showed up, Bob, in over 30 years, and as is typical with my Marines, it was like we hadn't missed a beat.  Everyone got along very well, as is always the case.  While we generally avoided the goings-on of the world, we did briefly talk politics.  Military people tend to be on the conservative end of the spectrum, so I was the odd man out in my political leanings, but we were all respectful.  For the most part, we talked about our lives and re-hashed our old war stories.  The fun part of this is that our time in service overlapped, and we were all deployed at different times, so had new audiences when we bragged about how we saved the world from communism.

We saw a mama bear and her two cubs a couple of different times while we were there.  They were close, but not dangerously so.  The first time we saw them, momma was foraging in the woods behind the cabin, and the second time, they were exploring a giant dumpster in the driveway of the house next door, which was under construction.

We went into Pigeon Forge twice.  One day we went and raced go karts, and on the second visit, we took a redneck comedy bus tour.  Both days included a visit to the Old Smoky moonshine distillery.

The meals were cooked at the cabin, and they were kind of organically planned.  We had big breakfasts of bacon and eggs, and out dinners consisted of burgers, steaks, and chicken, all cooked on the outdoor grill.  Everyone willingly pitched in to cook, serve, or clean up.

Everyone who attended this trip agreed that it was a massive success, and we are very much leaning toward the same location next year.  The fun part is that even if we double the number of people attending, we will have plenty of room to put everyone up in the cabin.

Tune in next time, when I talk about my motorcycle adventures.

Epic Vacation

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I took a little vacation last week.  The vacation was essentially split into sections... traveling to the first destination, a reunion with some of my Marine Corps buddies, some motorcycle riding in the Smoky Mountains, and traveling home.

The reunion took place just outside of Pigeon Forge, TN.  This is a long way from my neighborhood, so I split the commute over two days, since I rode the bike.  Day one I traveled to Indianapolis, and day two landed me in Pigeon forge.  For the most part the ride was pleasant and uneventful.  It was brutally hot, but this didn't really bother me.  I made sure to stop every hundred miles or so to pound a Gatorade and rest.  As the day warmed up, I wore an evaporation vest under my jacket, which helped keep me cool.  Later on, I swapped out the vest and just soaked my t-shirt.  This didn't last as long, but it provided more cooling because the shirt wasn't as heavy, so I got better air flow.

The scenery was nice, especially on the second day, traveling from Indy to Pigeon Forge.  The mountains were particularly scenic.  The only real headache I experienced was getting from Pigeon Forge to the cabin.  My GPS didn't play nicely, so I found myself riding to a turn, stopping to confirm my location and next turn, repeating ad nauseam.  GPS problems became a recurring issue later on, but I'll expound on that more later...

 Tune in tomorrow when I talk about the reunion. 

Harsh Karma

I recently found out that my ex has been diagnosed with congestive heart failure.  I don't know the details, because quite frankly, I'm not all that interested.  The only reason I care at all is because it impacts my kids.  This is where it gets interesting:  It turns out they're not that interested either.

If you recall some of my previous writings about her shenanigans, you will remember that she has been a less than stellar parent, which is a charitable way of phrasing things.  It's more accurate to say that she's been manipulative, neglectful, and generally selfish.  Her behavior has been so bad for so long, that both kids recently cut off communication with her.  When she contacted them to share that she was hospitalized, their reply was something to the effect of I wish you well.

One of my girls asked my thoughts.  I replied by saying "When you girls were younger, I saw how she treated you, and I hated it, but I knew I had to play the long game.  I know I wasn't perfect at it, but I tried diligently to not bash on her, while also not excusing her behavior.  I knew my bias, and also kind of understood that bashing on her would do no good.  The best thing I could do was be there for you, and hope that one day you would realize how poorly she treated you, and that you'd eventually see her for the person she is.  I just didn't realize how harsh that outcome would be."  When challenged on the use of the word harsh, I clarified that a harsh consequence is not always excessive... sometimes it's justice.

On the Road Again

I'm heading out for a little vacation.  I'm jumping on the bike and heading out for a reunion with some of my Marine Corps buddies.  I may or may not post while I'm doing my thing.

Oh, You Loony MAGA-ites!

You can't make this sh!+ up! MAGA doesn't believe that climate change is real, but they're fully on board with the idea that an individual can purchase the materials to "geoengineer" extreme heat or cold, just to make things inconvenient for their supreme leader.

Road Trip

When I was in the Marine Corps, I was stationed at (now closed) MCAS Tustin.  This is in the heart of Orange County, California, and everything was close by.  I could be at the beach in less than 30 minutes.  Disneyland was less than an hour away.  I could be in the mountains or the desert in about an hour.  LA was about an hour away, San Diego was about 90 minutes away, and I could be in Tijuana in less than two hours.  Every weekend was a road trip.

One weekend night, I loaded up my VW Bus with a bunch of my Marine buddies for an evening of cruising Newport Beach. Relatively early into the evening, I saw a young woman, obviously quite intoxicated, staggering around a parking lot.  She was in bad shape!  She could barely stand, she was slurring her words to the point where I could hardly understand what she was saying, and her pants were missing.  I knew that if she didn't get home, something very bad would probably happen to this young lady.

I convinced her to get into the van with us, letting her know we were taking her home.  This was before the days of cell phones.  I asked her where she lived, and she slurred "Inshunithus."  I couldn't understand what she was saying.  I asked again, and she again slurred "Inshunithus!"  I asked her to spell it, and she replied "E... I... N... I... Inshunithus!"  She then passed out in the lap of one of my buddies, and she was down for the count.

I had one of my buddies dig into her purse and locate her driver's license to find her address.  She was saying "Encinitas," which was over an hour south of our location. One of my friends grew up in Oceanside, which is close by, and knew how to get to that city.  Once we got there, we were able to wake her up, and she was able to give us directions to her house, where we dropped her off and waited by the door until she got safely into the house.  Again, it was before the days of cell phones, so we didn't have GPS to guide us.  We were fortunate that she was just coherent enough to give us turn by turn directions to her place.

When we looked at her license, we learned it was her 21st birthday, which explained why she was so snot slinging drunk.  It didn't explain her missing pants (or skirt, whichever it was.)  To this day, I have no idea what happened to her after we dropped her at her door, and I have no idea how she got so far away from home.  I can't help but wonder if she had a "Dude, Where's My Car?" scenario.  And if so, did she ever find it?

All I know is that we planned an evening cruising the beach, and we ended up taking a road trip to E.. I... N... I... Inshunithus!  We had hoped to pick up some chicks, but not exactly like this.  As is usually the case though, the best road trips -- nay, the best stories -- are the result of an unexpected twist of fate that changes your plans.  Kind of like another road trip, where my buddy Fred and I decided to drive to San Francisco for a newspaper and a Coke, and to drive across the Golden Gate Bridge, not realizing that San Francisco was eight hours away.

A Labor of Love

One of my favorite aspects of summer is fresh produce.  I love making fresh salsa, cucumber salad, and homemade pickles.  Iowa sweet corn is the best there is!  Right now black raspberries are in season.

I've had a small patch of black raspberries in my back yard for almost as long as I can remember.  You won't find black raspberries in stores, because they have a very short shelf life.  But I've made a small tradition of taking my kids to the back yard to pick black raspberries with me, and then my grandkids.  In the early years, the patch was small and only produced a few berries, so we'd just go out and eat them straight off the vine.  Since then, I learned how to tend the canes and the patch has grown noticeably.

A couple of years back, I discovered a wild stash growing in a woody area close to my house, and everything changed. I suddenly found myself with enough berries to do more than eat a small handful every couple of days.  I decided to try my hand at making jam.  I actually started out making a simple sauce to pour over ice cream, using only the berries and just enough honey to lightly sweeten the reduction.  The pivot to jam was a natural progression; I just had to mildly tweak my recipe.

The process was as much about learning as anything else.  For starters, I was not interested in a jam that contained as much sugar as fruit.  But I also learned that a certain amount of pectin, sugar, and lemon juice are all necessary for the jam to gel.  I made three small batches of jam last year, sharing the product with family and close friends, actively soliciting feedback, and refining accordingly.  My final recipe uses about 1/3 of the sugar of recipes I found online, and I believe it's far superior because it focuses on the flavor of the berry instead of maximizing the sweet.

This year's harvest has been the best so far.  I've harvested over a gallon and a half of berries, which will yield about 30 quarter pint jars of homemade black raspberry jam, and the season is not quite finished.  Oh, quick side note, I also found a patch of wild blackberries this year.  I hope to not only harvest them, but also I hope to propagate and transplant a few canes to my back yard.

This is definitely a labor of love.  The short shelf life of a black raspberry means that I need to forage at least every other day.  Daily foraging is better.  Mosquitoes are out in force, especially in the wild patch in the woods.  It's hot, and the wooded area blocks the breeze.  The raspberry bushes in the woods are mixed in with nettles.  Between the nettles and the thorns on the canes, I have to wear jeans.  And it's getting hot!  There have been many times where I've been out foraging in 90+ degree weather with Iowa humidity stacked on top of it.

And the labor doesn't end with the foraging.  I have to freeze the berries so they don't rot.  The foraging window is about a month.  So I have to keep the freezer clear for that time.  Then there's actually making the jam.  I have to do it in small batches, making only six or so jars in a batch, and each batch takes about an hour to an hour and a half to make.  This doesn't include the cost of the sugar, pectin, and jars.

The funniest part is that, while I love raspberries, I don't eat that much jam.  I might eat 3 or 4 jars over the course of a year, but the overwhelming majority is given away.  To me, this is a hobby.  I love the idea of being able to harvest wild edible food, and I enjoy preserving fresh, local produce for use during the cold winter months.  My favorite part though, is sharing my culinary talent with friends and family.

I know several people who can food, but compared to the population at large, even in rural Iowa, I possess a relatively rare skill.  When I give someone a jar of my black raspberry preserves, I share that I forage the berries myself, that I can the jam myself, and that it's my own personal recipe.  I say point blank that what I'm sharing is a labor of love.  It's universally well received and highly appreciated.

It's Not Just Gaming Consoles

I read an article today that said Microsoft is increasing the price of the Xbox console.  I already own the Xbox, and I'm a very casual gamer, so to me this in and of itself isn't a huge deal.  It is, however, a result of a larger supply and demand problem, and the root cause is Artificial Intelligence.  In a nutshell, the AI boom is creating a huge increase in demand for RAM... specifically the RAM needed for video cards.

The thing is, increasing RAM production is not a simple process.  It's wildly expensive to build a new manufacturing plant, and the ongoing costs are expensive as well, because most hardware requires an environment that's for all intents and purposes cleaner than a hospital.

The economic law of supply and demand indicates that if demand increases and supply does not, prices must increase to maintain purchasing equilibrium.  This makes suppliers want to increase supply so they make more money, but as I said, it's not easy in this case.  The end result is that we have higher costs for everything that uses RAM.  This means that gaming consoles and computers cost more.  It's not just gaming consoles.

My big questions are "Is it worth it," and if so "to what extent?"  We as a society are spending billions of dollars to build data centers.  These data centers are consuming vast amounts of natural resources to continually power and cool these data centers.  The payoff is still unproven, and the most widely-seen consequence is a massive disruption in the labor market.

So... big companies are making money hand over fist... real people are losing their jobs... real people are paying higher prices for everything from computers to electricity to water.  I say again... it's not just gaming consoles.  I ask again, is it worth it?  And if so, to what extent?