Rain, Sleet, Snow, Nor Gloom of Night

First of all, I never signed a contract saying I would work in rain, sleet, and snow. But I have. Actually, I probably enjoy it more than most. I came across a newspaper clipping today that reminded me of a particularly difficult day nearly a quarter century ago. Many who read this post would have been in diapers the day this ocurred. The date was Thursday, January 20, 1983. If you can read the date on the clipping, you will see it is Friday's paper and the picture was taken before sunrise that morning.



I know you can't read the print. Basically, there was an ice storm Thursday. It rained most of the day and was getting colder and colder. By mid-afternoon everything was freezing. All the trees had ice and limbs were beginning to break off. After dark it became much worse. A power pole with THREE transformers (probably not a good idea) fell on two mail jeeps and crushed one pretty well. The jeep on the right in this picture was the one I drove and it was crushed on the driver's side (right) so that the roof was resting on the seat. The clocks stopped in the Post Office when the pole fell indicating that it was less than an hour after I had parked it and left for the day. We DID deliver mail on Friday, but not much arrived from Birmingham because they were iced in worse than we were. Trees and power lines were down everywhere. It is amazing how much we take for granted. I parked near that power pole day after day without any thought of it falling on the vehicle before that day. Also, this occasion is one reminder that older folks have seen many cycles in weather patterns similar to recent years. But in those days, such events were mostly local news. There were no 24 hour news channels competing to have the latest from everywhere. Don't be fooled by proponents of global warming and buying carbon credits to soothe your guilt for destroying the planet. The storms have always been with us and we "do not know from whence the wind blows".

THE RACE

I noticed this morning that I have 99 blog posts archived. So, I wanted to make number 100 special. I have just read this poem and was moved to tears by it. There is so much I would like to say about the meaning but the poem is long so I will just leave my comments to this brief introduction. If there is somewhere you have to be in two minutes, just wait and come back later. You will need a few minutes to process the meaning for your life.

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THE RACE

by DEE GROBERG

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"QUIT! GIVE UP YOU'RE BEATEN!"

THEY SHOUT AT ME AND PLEAD.

"THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH AGAINST YOU NOW.

THIS TIME YOU CAN'T SUCCEED."

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AND AS I START TO HANG MY HEAD

IN FRONT OF FAILURE'S FACE,

MY DOWNWARD FALL IS BROKEN BY

THE MEMORY OF A RACE.

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AND HOPE REFILLS MY WEAKENED WILL

AS I RECALL THAT SCENE;

FOR JUST THE THOUGHT OF THAT SHORT RACE

REJUVENATES MY BEING.

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A CHILDREN'S RACE--YOUNG BOYS, YOUNG MEN--

HOW I REMEMBER WELL.

EXCITEMENT, SURE! BUT ALSO FEAR;

IT WASN'T HARD TO TELL.

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THEY ALL LINED UP SO FULL OF HOPE;

EACH THOUGHT TO WIN THAT RACE.

OR TIE FOR FIRST, OR IF NOT THAT,

AT LEAST TAKE SECOND PLACE.

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AND FATHERS WATCHED FROM OFF THE SIDE

EACH CHEERING FOR HIS SON.

AND EACH BOY HOPED TO SHOW HIS DAD

THAT HE WOULD BE THE ONE.

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THE WHISTLE BLEW AND OFF THEY WENT,

YOUNG HEARTS AND HOPES AFIRE.

TO WIN AND BE THE HERO THERE

WAS EACH YOUNG BOY'S DESIRE.

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AND ONE BOY IN PARTICULAR,

WHOSE DAD WAS IN THE CROWD,

WAS RUNNING NEAR THE LEAD AND THOUGHT:

"MY DAD WILL BE SO PROUD!"

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BUT AS THEY SPED DOWN THE FIELD

ACROSS A SHALLOW DIP,

THE LITTLE BOY WHO THOUGHT TO WIN

LOST HIS STEP AND SLIPPED.

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TRYING HARD TO CATCH HIMSELF,

HIS HANDS FLEW OUT TO BRACE,

BUT MID THE LAUGHTER OF THE CROWD

HE FELL FLAT ON HIS FACE.

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SO DOWN HE FELL AND WITH HIM HOPE

HE COULDN'T WIN IT NOW--

EMBARRASSED, SAD, HE ONLY WISHED

TO DISAPPER SOMEHOW.

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BUT AS HE FELL HIS DAD STOOD UP,

AND SHOWED HIS ANXIOUS FACE,

WHICH TO THE BOY SO CLEARLY SAID,

"GET UP AND WIN THE RACE."

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HE QUICKLY ROSE, NO DAMAGE DONE,

BEHIND A BIT, THAT'S ALL--

AND RAN WITH ALL HIS MIND AND MIGHT

TO MAKE UP FOR HIS FALL.

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SO ANXIOUS TO RESTORE HIMSELF

TO CATCH UP AND TO WIN--

HIS MIND WENT FASTER THAN HIS LEGS;

HE SLIPPED AND FELL AGAIN!

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HE WISHED THEN HE HAD QUIT BEFORE,

WITH ONLY ONE DISGRACE.

"I'M HOPELESS AS A RUNNER NOW;

I SHOULDN'T TRY TO RACE."

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BUT IN THE LAUGHING CROWD HE SEARCHED

AND FOUND HIS FATHER'S FACE;

THAT STEADY LOOK WHICH SAID AGAIN:

"GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!"

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SO UP HE JUMPED TO TRY AGAIN

TEN YARDS BEHIND THE LAST--

"IF I'M TO GAIN THOSE YARDS," HE THOUGHT,

"I'VE GOT TO MOVE REAL FAST."

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EXERTING EVERYTHING HE HAD

HE REGAINED EIGHT OR TEN,

BUT TRYING SO HARD TO CATCH THE LEAD

HE SLIPPED AND FELL AGAIN!

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DEFEAT! HE LAY THERE SILENTLY

A TEAR DROPPED FROM HIS EYE--

"THERE'S NO SENSE RUNNING ANYMORE;

THREE STRIKES: I'M OUT! WHY TRY!"

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THE WILL TO RISE HAD DISAPPEARED;

ALL HOPE HAD FLED AWAY;

SO FAR BEHIND, SO ERROR PRONE;

A LOSER ALL THE WAY.

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"I'VE LOST, SO WHAT'S THE USE," HE THOUGHT.

"I'LL LIVE WITH MY DISGRACE."

BUT THEN HE THOUGHT ABOUT HIS DAD

WHO SOON HE'D HAVE TO FACE.

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"GET UP," AN ECHO SOUNDED LOW.

"GET UP AND TAKE YOUR PLACE;

YOU WERE NOT MEANT FOR FAILURE HERE.

GET UP AND WIN THE RACE."

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"WITH BORROWED WILL GET UP," IT SAID,

"YOU HAVEN'T LOST AT ALL.

FOR WINNING IS NO MORE THAN THIS:

TO RISE EACH TIME YOU FALL."

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SO UP HE ROSE TO RUN ONCE MORE,

AND WITH A NEW COMMIT

HE RESOLVED THAT WIN OR LOSE

AT LEAST HE WOULDN'T QUIT.

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SO FAR BEHIND THE OTHERS NOW,

THE MOST HE'D EVER BEEN--

STILL HE GAVE IT ALL HE HAD

AND RAN AS THOUGH TO WIN.

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THREE TIMES HE'D FALLEN, STUMBLING;

THREE TIMES HE ROSE AGAIN;

TOO FAR BEHIND TO HOPE TO WIN

HE STILL RAN TO THE END.

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THEY CHEERED THE WINNING RUNNER,

AS HE CROSSED THE LINE FIRST PLACE.

HEAD HIGH, AND PROUD, AND HAPPY;

NO FALLING, NO DISGRACE.

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BUT WHEN THE FALLEN YOUNGSTER

CROSSED THE LINE LAST PLACE,

THE CROWD GAVE HIM THE GREATER CHEER,

FOR FINISHING THE RACE.

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AND EVEN THOUGH HE CAME IN LAST,

WITH HEAD BOWED LOW, UNPROUD,

YOU WOULD HAVE THOUGHT HE'D WON THE RACE

TO LISTEN TO THE CROWD.

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AND TO HIS DAD HE SADLY SAID,

"I DIDN'T DO TOO WELL."

"TO ME, YOU WON," HIS FATHER SAID.

"YOU ROSE EACH TIME YOU FELL."

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AND NOW WHEN THINGS SEEM DARK AND HARD

AND DIFFICULT TO FACE,

THE MEMORY OF THAT LITTLE BOY

HELPS ME IN MY RACE.

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FOR ALL OF LIFE IS LIKE THAT RACE,

WITH UPS AND DOWNS AND ALL.

AND ALL YOU HAVE TO DO TO WIN,

IS RISE EACH TIME YOU FALL.

Style

How do you define style? Webster offers several definitions, including; "overall excellence, skill, or grace in performance, manner, or appearance". I like that definition. However, I recently discovered another definition of style that I like better. I can show you better than I can tell you;

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Now that is STYLE! Three of my girls at the recent Vaughn Park ladies tea personify excellence and grace.

Growing Old is not for Sissies!

I am determined to push my body to exercise and, as Dr. George Sheehan said, "be the animal I was meant to be". My philosophy is that doing that for a lifetime requires finding ways to make it enjoyable. In keeping with that philosophy, I recently purchased a mountian bicycle. To be precise, the insurance company representing the crazy woman who turned left across three lanes and bashed my truck bought me a bike. That is another post. This one is about stretching my wings and soaring to new heights on my sturdy mountain bike. I will try to share pictures occasionally. Here are the first two;
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Man, that was a cool day on the Coosa! Thanks to LaWanna for climbing that other mountain to take the pictures.

Dilbert continued

In keeping with the theme of the post "Ode to Baron" (see below) I am following up with the view from my office. Securing a corner office or an office with a view has long been considered an indication of increased standing in the company. To some, the office-location-status is more important than salary or workload. In a way, I am one of those. But not like most folks. Here are some views from my office that I enjoy every day at work. If I have to explain why this view at a lower salary trumps a computer screen and no windows at a higher salary, then I probably am not a sufficient word-smith to convey to you the difference measured in stress level, blood-pressure, and the ability to literaly whistle while you work.

As you can see, this was taken from inside the mailtruck. Here are more;




And one more;
There are more, but you get the idea. Yes, I could be making more money. Yes, the USPS needs me in a higher postion. Yes, I wear a blue collar now instead of a dress shirt and tie. No, I do not get called "Sir" nearly as often. If you don't get it, stop by the Coosa River one afternoon and I will share half my apple while we talk about it. Maybe when you leave, you will understand. But not everybody does.

Ode to Baron

This is today's Dilbert cartoon strip but I call it "Ode to Baron". That's all I have to say about that.

Big Yellow Taxi

Big Yellow Taxi is one of my favorite songs. It has a catchy melody and a chorus that is thought-provoking, simple and a truism. It also uses those elements to pull you in--to convince you that "you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" by lamenting the paving of paradise, putting all the trees in a tree museum, and the killing of birds and bees with DDT and then WHAM! Just when you are sure the title of the song must be either "They paved paradise and put up a parking lot" or "Don't it always seem to go, you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" the tempo slows and in a whisper he says "Late last night I heard the scream door slam. A big yellow taxi took my girl away." Wow! That is what the song is really about. Now that he has suffered such a great loss, he sees the pattern of failing to appreciate blessings in other areas as well.

Here is my variation of that song; I will tell you the principle first then tell you the humorous story that reminded me of it.
Principle;
We all have a tendency to cover up problems instead of doing the hard digging required to actually fix the problem. We do this even though we know the problem will only get worse if we ignore it.
Funny story;
In the latest incarnation of my career I walk up to the door of a 150-year-old house in Wetumpka most days. The couple that lives here are probably in their 70's. There is a semi-circular dirt drive in front of the house. At the edge of this drive, I noticed a few months ago there was a wet spot. This seemed odd since it had not rained in some time. For the next several days I noticed it was still wet. I walked over and pressed on the edge of the wet area with my foot and water seeped up in the middle. That can't be good. A quick survey offered the likely explanation; there was a water meter directly across the drive. These folks have a water leak underground. There is also a sweet gum tree nearby that I would guess is about 120 years old that was struck by lightning a few months ago. I don't know if the lightning strike caused the rupture, but it is possible. Here is the funny part. A couple of days later there was a couple of shovel-fuls of dirt on top of the wet spot. In a few more days the water had soaked through that dirt. Then there was more dirt. Then the water soaked through again. This process has gone on and on. Now there is a large mound of dirt at the edge of the drive and the grass around the mound is growing like crazy. Since we haven't had rain in 40 days and 40 nights, the rest of the grass is dry and parched. Not this spot. Green and lush. In fact the grass and clover growing there is the only thing nearby that is as tall as the mound of wet dirt. I never see this gentleman but can hardly believe that he can't realize that there is a broken pipe underground and no matter how much dirt he piles on, the water will still continue to leak.
It seems silly, or to be honest it seems foolish. But how many times have I done the same?

"Don't it always seem to go, you cover the symptoms instead of digging for the real problem?" Until the screen door slams. I love that song.

TIGER ATTACK!!!

It was the kind of environment that cause all my senses to remain on full alert. There were strange creatures everywhere and my eyes constantly shifted left and right. I kept LaWanna always just to my left and within reach. Even with my constant watchfulness, she saw it before I did. Her screams caused my heightened senses to send instant messages to all my muscles to coil for the pending attack. I could not believe it when her screams evolved into the word T-I-G-E-R!!! Could it be true? I still did not see the menacing creature! Then suddenly there were the piercing eyes, the huge paws, the fiendishly camouflaged stripes. It really was a tiger! I know it is difficult to believe. Fortunately, there was someone nearby with a camera and here is the proof.






O.K., it was a young tiger. And the jungle was downtown Montgomery during Jubilee weekend. But you have to admit that there are some wild creatures downtown during Jubilee--some who only come to town on that weekend--and perhaps during the fair. Maybe I will write later about the resemblance to Sodom-francisco. But this post is about the tiger. Yes, it is true that LaWanna's screams were not screams of terror but of delight. "I've always wanted to pet a tiger" she said like a kid in a candy store. "And you shall" says I. So I pulled a few strings and not only were we allowed to pet the tiger, but the caretakers also felt that we looked so good with the tiger that they insisted on taking our pictures. Young people, let this be a lesson to you; be nice to enough people....and give enough people $15 and you can have anything you want in life. You may be wondering "LaWanna, why are you holding the poor tiger so high under her armpits?" Well, LaWanna can explain to you, as an expert tiger handler, with minutes or at least seconds of training, that you hold them that way instead of cuddling them as you would be inclined so that they will not claw your eyes out. The very pregnant handler would actually hold the little cub with one hand under one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Actually, it was more like a gallon of milk--you know with the little milk-filled handle, only she used a leg and shoulder like the handle. She explained that this most resembles the way the mother carries the cubs. And while it looked a little rough, sure enough the cub just went limp when picked up that way and did not squirm or attempt to break free. The bands were fun at Jubilee, my tickets were free, and we saw several friends we haven't seen in a while. But what we will probably remember most was the few minutes spent with "our own" little tiger. A good time was had by all.