I've been pretty busy lately and haven't had time to post like I wanted to.   I have a few minutes now, and have gone through and picked out some pictures that for whatever reason, I didn't post when I took.  I am finding that though I'd love to get better at actually taking high quality pictures, many of my favorites are  ones which for whatever reason didn't turn out quite right. 

I really liked this guy's truck, though to have a sleeper that big means he probably lives in it more than he does his house.  I'd guess from the shape of his freight that what's up front is a jet engine and he pulls for an outfit called Southern Pride that hauls mostly jet engines, because most of their guys have really sharp rigs like this.  

I was stopped at a light when a truckload of wagons passed.  I grabbed a couple quick pics.

It snowed one night in Harrisonburg, VA, but the snow only stayed in the higher elevations.  I liked how the snow brought out the contours in the mountains and the trees outlined the ridge.

I was crossing Mt. Weather on route 7 beginning the descent into the Shenandoah Valley and couldn't get the camera up and running in time to catch the pic I wanted of the fog flowing in parts of the valley, but I was able to grab this as an old truck passed.  Not sure why, but I really like it.

My oldest daughter @knowtomorrow, in one of her first art classes last year drew this picture of her sister.  She has gotten better, but I like this and it was somehow in one of my newer folders on the computer, so here it is.

This is the daughter (obviously dressed for Halloween) who was the subject of the above picture.  I liked this picture b/c I used a cheap trick I  had learned to soften a flash.  I just used a business card to reflect the flash up and off the ceiling which softened the light and took out the glare. 

This is all the kids in their costumes.  Danny's wearing a cast because of a buckle fracture he got when he went over the handle bars trying to stop quickly from 22 mph on his bicycle.  He made sure to let everyone know that the speedometer I had bought him said 22 mph before he wrecked.

 I may edit and add more pics later.  I'm enjoying looking through old pictures.

 

 

I have read some thinspo blogs from people who have visited my blog or are subscribers, and am thinking about doing a post on some things I think about the whole issue of girls and women with eating disorders.  Meanwhile, an old high school friend posted a link to this blog today and I thought maybe if a few more Dads had thought to take heed of a few of these "rules", maybe a few less girls would be saddled with twisted self images.  I'm not pretending EDs are simple things or that all dads are completely responsible for all their daughter's issues, but no matter what you say, the approval of Daddy is a very powerful thing.   These are two of the ones that caught my eye, but take time to read them all.

18. Tell her she’s beautiful. Say it over and over again. Someday an animated movie or “beauty” magazine will try to convince her otherwise.

50. Today she’s walking down the driveway to get on the school bus. Tomorrow she’s going off to college. Don’t blink.

Here's the link I forgot to put in the first time.

http://www.fromdatestodiapers.com/50-rules-for-dads-of-daughters

   Went turkey hunting today.  Wasn't even hunting for 15 minutes and I shot my first turkey!  I thought they said these birds were hard to find and harder to shoot.  Guess I'm just that good.  You should've seen it.  Every single person in the whole frozen food department jumped about a foot in the air. 

I decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather today and try to get a bike ride in.   I took the camera along, as well, which made the ride take a whole lot longer, but I think it was worth it.  I headed off toward the Bay and went farther than I've ever gone in that direction.  I typically turn south a couple miles from the house then head toward Wye Mills, but thought I'd explore a bit today.  I found some history I'd never known, a couple albino squirrels, and a whole bunch of boats.  

 

There are chicken farms all over this part of the country.

The local 4H park.

Found this church as I made my way into Queenstown.

As I headed toward the water, I found Bowlingly, an estate dating to 1658.  The signs tell the story. 

 

I thought I'd take some pics of the boats sitting around.

I ran into a Grandpa and his grandkids.  The little girl in pink was telling him about her Halloween costume.

 

The leaves are falling, but the colors are still beautiful.

Apparently a dinghy can serve many purposes.

This is a typical workboat from the Chespeake Bay region. Very shallow draft, a small cockpit sometimes even without controls (The main set of controls, sometimes the only ones, are typically back where the men work, so they can harvest crabs or oysters while maintaining control of the boat, thus eliminating the need for an extra man.) serves to provide protection from the Bay's famous squalls that sneak up quickly and disappear just as fast.  They also have low sides  to ease access to the water for crabbing and oystering, and the deadrise  (height from the waterline to the deck in the front of the boat) is greater on boats who work the waters further south in the bay, closer to the ocean. This particular boat appears to be having its awning replaced.  Awnings protect the watermen from the sun, and many of the better workboats are equipped with them.  An interesting fact is that historically it was very common for watermen in this area to be unable to swim.  Even in my lifetime, I've known many who couldn't.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

A canoe, apparently long unused at the back of someone's house.

 

I thought this was a good idea for keeping leaves out of the fishpond in the autumn.

 

 

There's a little squirrel hiding in the lower branches of this tree.  Squirrels were everywhere, running and chattering. I suppose they too, were enjoying the Indian Summer.

 

I had to stop and grab a pic of this.  On each side of the tree at the right of this picture, there was an albino squirrel playing.

Our area is very marshy.

I liked both perspectives of this scene.  Any tips from you "real" photographers out there, as to which is the better shot and why?  I think this is an old Buick because of the portholes on the side.

At this point I was passing through Grasonville, 13 miles from home on the way to Stevensville.  As rain was forecast and the clouds were darkening and the wind freshening, I was beginning to think it might be time to turn back, and then the phone rang.  Danny was experiencing another of his bad headaches, and the nurse isn't allowed to give him the Aleve that eases them.  The only medicine she's allowed to give is Tylenol.  So I had to turn back, in order to go pick him up.

 

As I was passing the 4H park on the way home, I heard a loud noise like thousands of birds.  Upon closer examination, I saw thousands of blackbirds.  The old folks say that they congregate like that before we get snow.  I hope they're wrong this time.

 

 

I was delivering in Woodstock, VA Saturday morning when I heard what sounded like a large fan turning on and off.  I didn't thing anything of it at first, until I looked up in the sky and there, coming toward me, was a hot air balloon.  I climbed down out of the trailer and ran to the truck to get my camera.  Of course I had left the real camera in the car, but the cell phone did a pretty good job (if I hadn't obscured the corner of the lens).   The balloon passed so low over my truck that I was able to talk to the pilot and passengers.  When I finished my delivery and got up in the cab to leave, I saw they had landed just a couple hundred feet on the other side of the truck.

This morning, in Luray, as the sun began to push away the darkness, my friend the Confederate soldier once again stood silent guard while I made my delivery.

Sam and I were practicing a new song we're trying to play (me) and sing (her).  It actually sounds pretty good on the dobro (tuned like a guitar), but since we're not yet ready to perform it, I'll let you hear it sung by someone who can really get the job done.  This is Norah Jones' version of the song.

Sam is acting a small part in her school's play, "Up the Down Staircase".  I went to see it this afternoon, expecting a mediocre version of a play condensed for high school production, only to see a phenomenally acted play on an excellent set.  It was done on a level above some plays I've seen done "professionally".   These kids knocked it out of the ballpark.  Their director (who must have busted her butt to get these kids to perform at this level) should be really proud.  Since I got off work just in time to grab a quick shower and run to the school, I forgot the camera, but Sam took some pics of the flowers she got, so all, I suppose, is not lost.

My wife's in Texas this week, taking care of her mom who had a pretty serious surgery to remove about a foot of her lower intestine and repair some damage done by previous surgeries to her abdomen.  It's amazing that a house with six kids and a dad just seems empty without her here.  My kids, who have never managed to get a single room cleaned {or at least it seems that way} without an adult supervising, surprised me by having the whole house clean and in relative good order when I got home from work.  Good job kids! I'm amazed and grateful, as apparently they all pitched in.  Now to see if we can actually survive the week without Mom to hold things together.

I think I mentioned this article before, but if you have a few minutes, it's a good read and might be inspirational to your young athletes, or old guys like me.

http://www.bicycling.com/news/featured-stories/regarding-eddy-merckx#.Trg5oC-igmA.xanga

Nov. 1

It has been interesting 'round here the last few days.  It started Friday night.  I made a call to my supervisor at 10:30 pm in response to an indecipherable text.  He said my load would not be ready until 4 am, yes he had gotten the pressure washer I had left under his desk, and "Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you.  They told me this week you'll be our new trainer."  This means my Wed.-Thurs./Sat. -Sun. schedule will be more along the lines of Wed. 24-26 hrs and Sat. 24-26 hrs. because with trainee, we'll not have to layover like I did when I ran by myself.    I'll not always have a trainee, but if history's any predictor, it'll more than likely be for at least half my routes for the year.  That was the good news, and I'm still pretty stoked about it.  

Saturday, I left for my route and the guy they sent with me slept all morning (what he was supposed to do), but then around 6 pm he got a migraine.  I was out of hours, and had to let him drive, but I went ahead and did the deliveries at several more stops by myself, knowing that he was going to have to drive home and I really wanted to be certain that he was in good enough shape that I could sleep on the way back.  The day stretched out really long, but after some medicine and a few more stops sleep, he was a new man.  My plan had worked out and after our last stop, I was riding shotgun 'til we could get back to Winchester and pick up a bunch of empty dough trays we had left to make more room on the truck.  Right in the middle of Front Royal, sometime around midnight, he was driving about 20 mph because there was no salt on the road and it looked slick. Sure enough, as we approached an intersection, all of a sudden, the truck started to slide and jackknife.  He remained calm, let off the throttle and got it back under control, and the rest of the ride was uneventful.  When we crossed the line into West Virginia on the way home, the roads were well treated and safe the rest of the way.

 I got a couple hours sleep, and got in my car to head home and watched a beautiful sunrise over the Severn River, then the Chesapeake Bay.  I rolled into the house at 7 with every intent of taking the kids to church.  Tina had hurt her foot and was in really bad pain, so was laid up in bed hoping it would be better in time for work Tuesday.  I grabbed a hot bath and lay down for just a minute's rest and the next thing I knew, it was 2pm, and I was still tired.  

Monday's supposed to be the day Tina and I have together, but we had to run to Annapolis to jump through some hoops to qualify for this year's health insurance discount, then race back home, get my broken down car towed home just in time to take Samantha to her doctor's appointment.  

This morning, I headed off to Chestertown with Danny to do the dance required to get his cast off.  Doctor's office for the removal, hospital for an xray, then back to the doctor's office for final instructions after the xray reading.  Prognosis: healing well, but no bike riding for another 2 weeks (much to Danny's chagrin as we had planned to ride this afternoon) and wear a splint for 2 weeks, then whenever he exercises for a few months after.  I decided to let him have the rest of the day off school, and so when I went to court this pm to fight the last of two tickets from a bad traffic stop in August, I thought it'd be good for him to see how the courts worked.  The docket was small, and after my case was tried, (Not Guilty) we watched several others.  A restraining order, several debt judgments, a driving on suspended registration, and a couple speeding tickets.  The nice thing was, the judge meticulously explained the proceedings and why he was making the decisions he made.  Afterwards, when Danny and I and a couple lawyers were the only people remaining out front, the judge asked us if something was wrong, and I told him I just thought it would be a good lesson for Danny to see the proceedings and maybe talk to the judge.  He called Danny up and talked to him for a few minutes, then told him he hoped never to see him as a defendant and asked if he wanted to go see the holding cells.  The bailiff took Danny and I back and showed us around, then led us out.  Funny thing was, the whole time, Danny looked like he wasn't listening, but when I asked him about each case, he described what had happened in detail and with pretty impressive comprehension.  He has decided that tomorrow he'll tell his teacher that he missed school because he went to get his cast taken off but ended up in jail.

 

I saw a cool idea today and thought I'd give it a try.  I put a belt around my waist, set the self timer on the camera, then stuck it in the belt and began to spin Isa around. In the first shot I thought the shutter was set too slow at 100, so I set it to 1600 and I still didn't like it because, though the background was out of focus, it wasn't blurred, so it must have then been too fast.  I experimented with shutter speeds down to 400 on the last one and think that with a little more practice, the initial 100, or maybe 200 would be perfect to blur the background while catching her face clearly.  We experimented for about a half an hour spinning faster and faster, and Isabel was ready for more.  I, on the other hand spent 2 hours in bed trying to recover from the headache and nausea. I'm pretty sure I'll get the shots I want next time, but it won't be tonight.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       @Lucy_or_Ethel said since I commented on her list, I needed to do one myself, so here goes.   

1.   The last year I spent more than 9 full months in my parent's house, I was 12.  When I was 13 I began a series of work trips to Peru and Guatemala each summer.  My favorite trip was the first summer, 1985 when we built an airstrip for some missionaries in the Pajonal area of Peru in the foothills of the Andes mountains.    The locals had seen the benefits of having air access and cut down the trees on top of a long hill then asked the missionaries if they could land the airplanes there now.  They couldn't understand the felled trees and foliage needed to be removed and the whole area leveled and some parts widened.  We hiked 8 hours into the jungle from the nearest airstrip.  All of the supplies we couldn't carry in were dropped in by MAF and JAARS pilots on low passes over the village.   With picks and shovels plus wheelbarrows made from burlap hung between two wooden poles, we dug and moved over 200 tons of dirt.  We moved the trees that had been cut to a narrow spot and used them to build a retaining wall, then dumped all our excess dirt to fill in.

2.   My goal in life as a teenager was to be a missionary pilot.  Since I could see no way to initially afford the cost of classes at LeTourneau University where they had training for just such work, I went to Toccoa Falls College in north Georgia when I was 16.  TFC was founded by the LeTourneaus and had a really good missions training program. My intent was to transfer later.  I left after 2 years to study aircraft maintenance at the community college near home, but joined the USAF a semester later to get the same training for free.  After  a year and a half I took a job helping to reorganize a small shop on the promise that after a year I'd get my pick of assignments on base (I wanted to work on the airplanes on the flightline).  18 months later, when I was told I would not be transferred out, I went to see a reserve recruiter and traded my last year for 2 in the reserves.  I asked what career would allow me to travel and was told to sign up as a medic.  I did, at the 924th in Austin, TX.  I got my training, but our unit was shut down a couple of months after my training completed.  All of a sudden I was a Maryland boy in Texas without much marketable skill and looking for a job.

3. I'm fascinated by fire.  I have had many fun experiences with fire in my life, and some not so fun.  Most of the not so fun ones happened when I did something that I didn't understand until after it went wrong.  When I was working at a farm one time in the early 90s, I was trying to light a stubborn pile of damp brush.  Frustrated, I got about two gallons of diesel and poured it on the brush.  I threw several matches on it, then a burning rag, but still couldn't get it to ignite.  Even more frustrated, I got about a pint of gasoline and poured it on.  Knowing this would cause it to light magnificently, I stood several feet away, faced away from the brush, lit the match, threw it over my shoulder and ran.  I was about 10 feet away when the fireball engulfed me for just a second.  Thinking I'd gotten away unscathed, I went about my business.  That night when I showered, my eyebrows and all the ends of my hair came off.  I will still sit some evenings and watch the flame dance in the pellet stove.  When I was in the military, back in the 90s, I would take a creamer packet from our rations and pour it over a lit match from a couple feet above, causing a fireball and a cool whooshing sound.

4.  I collect musical instruments.  I have a trombone, a violin, several guitars, a dobro, a marimba, a mandolin made from an armadillo shell, a couple accordions, and probably some others I forgot.  I have never mastered an instrument, but I'm passable at the guitar, can play piano if I memorize the piece, and can pick out a song on the accordion.  When we were dating, my wife (then girlfriend) bought me an old archtop guitar.  She got it for 25 bucks b/c it had damage, but it had a beautiful tone.  Years later, a friend's son wanted to learn, and as he was a very responsible kid, I offered him his pick of my guitars as long as he'd give it back when he was done or got his own.  He picked the old archtop but must have forgotten, b/c they moved away and he never gave it back.  That was my favorite of all my musical instruments  because of its sentimental value.  I wish I had told him all but that one.

5.  If I'm surprised by a spider, my response can be distinctly unmanly, but I'm getting better at quelling that response and dealing with the arachnid.  A spider that enters my house has made the decision to forfeit his life, but if he builds on the outside of  the house he will more than likely finish his natural life cycle as I appreciate the job they do taking care of the other pestilent insects.  Because of this the outside of my house looks progressively worse throughout the summer until it is pressure washed in the fall.

6.  I've begun over the last few years to take a real interest in photography.  I've found it's something several of my kids enjoy as well, and it allows us to learn a little about how each of us sees our world a little differently.

7.  I love animals and can't stand to see them suffer, but I hate to see good money thrown out to keep unwanted animals alive or to treat diseases to keep an animal in agony living  for the emotional benefit of their owners.   I also think it's a good thing for kids to raise livestock and take part in their care and understand how meat gets to their table.  Because of these attitudes a lot of people think I'm a heartless, cruel man when it comes to animals, but I'm typically the go to guy  when there's an injured, suffering animal that needs to be put out of its misery.  I'll be the first to get the gun to shoot, or in a situation where that's impossible break the neck of an injured animal.  Then when I'm done, I'll be angry for days that the person who so wanted to have an animal and enjoy it's companionship  didn't wish to spend the money or have the fortitude to do the hard parts of caring for it when that inevitable day came along.  Some of them, I still haven't gotten over, years later.

 

 

     What is a truly successful man?  What makes his life worthwhile?   What is a life well lived?  As I prepare to blow by my fortieth birthday, these are questions that run through my mind.  One of the curses of my chosen profession is that it presents a man with hours on end with nothing to do but remain alert to the road and think.   As a father, a husband, a son, a neighbor, has my life to this point left a favorable mark?  Was I stupid to turn down an appointment to the Air Force Academy arranged without my knowledge by my commander?  I would have never met my wife, so I like to think not.  What about the decision to go trucking, which took me away from my family for weeks on end for years, but also allowed me to spend weeks on end at home, or visiting relatives?  A truck leased to a national company can work anywhere, so it allowed us to spend August and/or Christmas break in Texas with the in-laws for several years with no real loss of income.  It also allowed me to spend several months a year driving around our country and western Canada with my father for the last five years of his life.   I don't know how my life will be judged years from now, but I thought I'd put to paper some experiences upon which I spend my driving hours reflecting.  

This post was prompted by a little vignette I read this morning in an article about Eddy Merckx in this month's Bicycling magazine. Upon a little further research, I found I had come upon an interesting example of the complexities involved in being a man.   In 1975 he was doing well, with a decent lead in that years Tour de France.  On the morning of stage 17, he fell and broke his jaw (according to several articles about the race. He says his cheekbone).  He was having difficulty breathing and had a bruised hip and knee.  He continued, against doctor's advice, that stage and the next four to take second place in the Tour.   Why, you might ask?  His teammates needed to feed their families and as he was the one they were riding for, his finishing on the podium was their only chance at a decent paycheck.  (Upon reading this, I had to surreptitiously look around and make sure the wife and kids didn't see the tears on my face.)  What I found particularly interesting, was that later in life he said he regretted his decision to continue:  

"...the fact that I continued in the 1975 Tour de France after I crashed definitely did shorten it. 
“My build up to that race had already been problematical, and actually I wasn’t in the 
best of health when I started it. But after the crash, in which I fractured my cheekbone, 
I suffered like you cannot imagine possible. I could not take in anything but liquids. I had to race on empty”
Why did he continue? “I had to for the sake of the race, for honour and for my team mates. They depended on my prize money. Remember that I still finished second,” he says with pride. “What I should have done, looking back, was pay my riders what I would have earned out of my own pocket and left the race. Then maybe with my strength rebuilt I could have been competitive in 1976,” he adds.
Looking after his team-mates is important to Merckx. Patrick Sercu said it was Merckx who took on all the negotiations to set up his final team, even though his heart was no longer in bike racing. He did it so that his team mates would get paid for another year. He also provided jobs for ex-team mates in his bike factory, although he plays that down. “It was only three of them,” he says modestly.  "

Of such stuff is built the life of a man. He will be faced with situations. He must, often quickly and without a full understanding of the implications of that situation, make a decision which will affect not only his life, but the lives of others.  He will then look back for the rest of his life and judge those decisions.   The interesting thing is, some of the decisions which he made wrong and for the wrong reasons will put him in position to experience some of the best things  in life, yet some of the things he did with the most sincerity and good intention will go horribly wrong and be cause for much, later regret.  So here are a few of the lighter things that might be the cause of the smile you see on my face or the tear you catch in my eye when you pass that big rig rolling down I 81.

  Backpacking along part of the Appalachian Trail when I was 14 maybe 15, a friend and I got ahead of the group one night and made it to the place we would camp before the rest of the group.  We dropped our packs and walked back to see how the rest of the group was doing.  About a quarter mile back, we met them and my Dad was exhausted.  Having the energy of youth, I thoughtlessly took his pack and carried it the rest of the way to the campsite.  It was nothing for me. Dad had seen fit to include me and my friend in his yearly hiking trip and it was what I thought any kid would have done.  Dad never missed a chance to tell the story and took joy from the memory for the rest of his life. 

  Driving a taxicab on the upper deck of I35 (an elevated highway which bypasses most of the exits) in Austin during a drenching rainstorm, I passed an empty, broken down car.  A few seconds later, I came upon a very heavy, middle aged lady with three young children walking down the shoulder toward the next exit several miles north.  I was horrified to watch car after car pass them at highway speed.  I stopped and told her to get in.  She and her kids got in, but she said she couldn't take the ride, because she had no money to pay fare.  I told her it would take a worse man than me to charge a fare to a woman trying to keep three very young children from walking out into traffic in that deluge and took her to her home.

   Having unloaded my trailer in southern Delaware, I was heading home past the state penitentiary in Smyrna, DE, and I noticed a man walking the same direction I was traveling.  I stopped and offered him a ride at least up to where I had to turn off.  He said I probably didn't want to take him, he had just been released.  I said I had already called my wife to let her know I was picking up a hitchhiker and that if she didn't hear back in a few minutes, she'd call the cops, so he should get in and take the ride since he probably wouldn't get any other offers.  I ended up going a half hour out of my way to drop him at his house.  Sounded like he just needed someone to talk to.  Maybe I got taken for a ride, but he got one for free and a listening ear for a while at a total cost to me of only an extra half hour's time plus a few gallons fuel, so I have no regret.

   Leaving the cab stand in Austin one day,  I heard someone crying, so I stood still for a minute and eavesdropped on the rest of a phone conversation.  One of the office girls (I can't remember why I had no interest in her, b/c I do remember she was pretty and nice.) was having a really bad day.  Everything in her life was falling apart.  I don't remember the details, but I do remember thinking I wouldn't want to be in her shoes.  I went to the local florist and had flowers sent to her anonymously with an encouraging note.  I can't even remember what it said.  That afternoon when things were slow, I went to the airport to wait for a fare and talk with the other drivers, and everyone was speculating as to who had sent the flowers.  Apparently she had been elated and told everyone, but noone had any idea who could have sent them.  The funny thing was that several drivers were complaining that they had intended to ask her out, but now, obviously someone else had beat them to the punch and they wouldn't have a chance.  I never let on and actually I don't think I've ever told the story until now.  

 I may have told this next one already, but it's one of my favorites.  

 I trained to be a medic in the USAF Reserves, but immediately after my training, my unit was shut down and I went inactive.  Several years later I was driving west on Interstate 66 one afternoon hauling a load of sheetrock to Harrisonburg, VA and heard on the CB an exclamation that someone "...didn't even slow down!"  I asked and was told that a guy had driven off into a ravine at the 11 mile marker.   I was at the 12, and so when I saw a ravine coming up near the 11, I stopped and ran out to the middle of the bridge.  There was a stream at the bottom and a small car partially submerged and several people watching.  I ran back to the end of the bridge, then down the hill and asked where the driver was.  Noone knew or had looked.  I asked if he was in the car, again noone knew.  I ran into the stream and tried to flip the car.  It moved but was too much for me.  I asked any of the several men watching to get down here and help (stupidly, I know, b/c he had been under waist deep water for at least a couple of minutes by then). They griped about getting wet, but I was angry by then and made it an order.  They actually obeyed, and we got the car flipped over.  He had flown close to 200 feet out and dropped more than 75 feet before the car landed on its nose on a boulder, then toppled over and landed upside down in the stream.  His skin was mottled.  He wasn't breathing and I was so sure he was dead I didn't even take his pulse.  Another bystander did, though, and said he thought he felt something.  I walked over to see, but all of a sudden there was a cough and the guy started screaming and coughing out a pink foam.  (typically the pink foam means a punctured lung).  I swung into action.  We broke out the skylight and I supported his neck while several other guys helped me pull him from the car, which was now right-side up in the bitterly cold water.   I hollered up for someone on the bridge to run to my truck and get a blanket out of my sleeper, and meanwhile we got him up to dry land.  A few minutes later the ambulance arrived and they lowered a Stokes basket (a type of wire mesh stretcher shaped like the bottom half of an old style coffin).  We got him secured and started up the hill while the emergency guys cut the fence that was halfway up the hill.  We got him to the top and a few minutes later, he was in a helicopter on his way to the hospital.  General consensus was that due to the impact of such a large fall and his apparent injuries, he wouldn't make it.  Eight days later, I got a phone call.  Someone had taken my name and hometown off the side of my truck and he had found my home number.  He had just been released from the hospital.   He had had bruising and had been treated for pneumonia from the water that had gotten in his lungs.  Apparently water that actually gets down into your lungs causes the pink foam, too.  The surfactant in your lungs acts just like bubble bath when it mixes with water.

What makes a man?  I still don't know.  What makes this man?  Don't know that for sure either, but when, like now, I'm discouraged, I try to remember things like the previous stories to remind me that there is really a man here, and a pretty able one at that.  I've not reached any of the goals I set for my life, but looking back, I've done well at almost everything I set my mind to, even if I failed a few times trying to get started.  (Yes, that probably means that I didn't set my mind to my initial goals.)  I'm dealing with the implications of the failures and the decision to have a houseful of kids.  I have no regrets about having the kids, just about my inability to provide well for them.  I'm not sure what I'm going to be when I "grow up" since the initial failures were big enough to steal much of the rewards of my later success and leave me behind the eight ball right when several of the kids are beginning to get that famous teenage appetite and want to do all those things other teenagers do.  I've quickly become successful at my new job, since selling my truck last year and so am continuing to slowly catch up (monetarily) despite discouragement.  To top it all off, my job has had the effect of isolating me from almost all of my previous social interaction which revolved around my church.  (I work Wed, Thu and Sat, Sun)   What helps make this man is perspective, I suppose.  The lifelong joy my Dad took from a simple act of kindness, reminds this man that a small encouragement to those few people with whom I still interact (especially my wife and kids) can change a life.  I may never be famous like Eddy Merckx, but I can be thoughtful like him, and use my pain for the benefit of those who rely on me.  Elisabeth Elliott used to pose a question that went something like this: If a morning glory lives its entire life on the side of a remote mountain unseen to a single human eye and dies on the vine, is it any less acceptable to God than a beautiful rose cut and placed on the table of a king?   For now, I'm somewhat isolated like the morning glory.  Who knows, one day I may be cut up and put on the table of a king.  Meanwhile, I'm going to wade through these stupid mid-life doldrums and hopefully make the lives of those around me a little better.