In the interest of learning more about our friends, we tell a story about something that happened in a year given to us by a friend, whose story we read and "liked". I was given 33 years old by Beth, a friend I met on Xanga, but now keep in contact with on FaceBook. Leave a comment and I'll give you an age, then you can post your own story.

     I was 33 in 2005. My Dad had started to work for me, beginning 5 years of team driving together which, unbeknownst to us would be the last 5 years of his life. Tina and I had decided to go to Guatemala to help with a work team on a project that held special significance because our job would be to build a church for a congregation, one of whose members, Hermides, had grown up in an orphanage where I had worked several times over the years, and the team was organized by Bo, our friend who had for years run the orphanage.

     Tina and I had never been away without our children and though this was to be a working trip, it was also to be a getaway of sorts, though we did end up taking our youngest along. At the end of our trip, we had a couple days in beautiful Belize City and one evening, we walked from our hotel into town to do a little sightseeing. On the way back, at dusk we were suddenly approached by a large, very drunk, black man. I'm 6'2" and this man was easily a head taller than me and in pretty good shape. He stepped between us, put an arm around each of us and proceeded to walk along with us 'til we got to within a block of our hotel, lecturing us on the dangers of rich white people walking through that neighborhood after dark. We later found out that a tourist had been robbed and killed walking through the same neighborhood a week prior. I've often thought that though I'm not sure what angels look like, there's probably at least one who is very large and black and does a good impression of a drunk Belizean.

     I should be out on the bike.  I need to get aerobically back in shape, and I just don't feel like I "have it" right now.  I've struggled with minor respiratory issues my whole life and I think I need to keep my lungs well developed to compensate for their natural weaknesses.   As I've gotten older (I know, I'm still a young'un to a lot of you) the weight likes to accumulate more easily, too, so it is more important than ever for me to stay fit.  

     I guess I've been in sort of a funk, but I can't figure out what it is.  My marriage is in the best shape it has ever been.  My kids are doing well, even if they are at times a bit unmotivated. I am struggling to work out my faith in God, but I haven't lost my faith. It's more trying to figure out what's important, what's tradition and what's actually from the teachings of Christ, since I have seen a lot of silly and downright destructive things done because people think it's what God would have them do.  I have the best job I have ever had, and I have been performing above average, but the decisions being made by management aren't decisions that encourage an employee to feel secure in his position.  I'm feeling unchallenged and unproductive.  I mean, really, though I'm doing well, I'm not doing much to contribute.  I'm not being challenged. My whole life has been a fight, and there is no fight to be had now.  It is also pretty scary to me that there have been rules put into place that mean that the actions of someone else could cost me my job at the drop of a hat. At this point in life, it would be difficult to replace my current income and these are the years I need to be really productive because we're starting to launch children into adulthood.  I am taking guitar lessons and doing a lot of reading.  I devour everything I can find that pertains to my industry and do my best to pass along anything pertinent to our operations to the person who is responsible for that aspect of our business.

       It's as if I've been struggling to get my head above water forever.  Now I'm finally there and I can't figure out what to do or how to stay afloat.  Yeah, I know it's not a bad problem to be having in times like these, but it has me out of sorts.  It had gotten to the point that I really wasn't doing much around the house.  I've noticed that and made an effort to get off my behind and actually do something when I'm home, and that helps some.  I hope this goes away soon, but as I'm writing this, I realize that it's not the first time I've been down.  It's funny how putting things down in writing can give you perspective sometimes.  All of a sudden, I realize that aside from my wife and kids, I no longer have any close friends.  When I was over the road, I would make phone calls and talk for hours to friends, then when I got home, I'd be around for a while, so I could hang out and do things with my family and friends, but with this job, I'm gone almost every Saturday and into Sunday and those are the days I always had available to do things with my friends.  Interesting that you can drift out of touch without even noticing.  Not sure what to do, but at least it's been somewhat cathartic to put it into writing.

      Still no news on my nephew. There's a court date tomorrow and my mother in law will be there with a lawyer, so hopefully we can get him into one of our houses and out of the terrible foster home he's in.  I'm still super angry at my sister in law for putting him in a situation where this stuff could happen. We did hear he has a new social worker.  That makes three in the course of a week. I wish I could be there with him, but that's not allowed.

      A couple of you have been posting pictures from your cell phones, and I realized I'd gotten out of the habit since we got the camera, but since then I've gotten a new phone with a much better camera.  If I have nothing else to contribute just now, I can share a little of the beauty I've seen and captured the last few weeks. 

 Sunrise through the trees on top of the mountain. I liked how you could see the clear outline of the sun, though it was still behind the trees.

 I call this one Appalachian Moonshine.

A little snow made the drive across the ridge of Mt. Weather even more beautiful than usual.

Walking in the snow at midnight.

Sunrise over Massanutten Mountain almost completely enshrouded in clouds.

They put up a new sculpture outside the Art Warehouse in Luray, VA.

I loved how the sun peeked through the clouds and brightened one little spot on the snow.

My wife got me this beautiful guitar plus lessons for Christmas.  I've played for 20 years, and now this babyfaced kid who is majoring in guitar at a nearby college has taught me in two weeks, more than the sum total of all my previous guitar knowledge.

Now I gotta go give it all on the bicycle in hopes of reaching the bliss of the endorphine high that kicks in about ten minutes after you think you've spent every bit of energy you possess.  As much as I love winter, I  can't wait for springtime.  After a couple days of hard freezing and snow and sleet, today is beautiful and warm and gives hope that winter may last for a time, but springtime must shortly follow.

     This past Sunday as I backed up beside one of our stores in western Virginia, I saw Daniel was standing outside waiting for his ride to church. As I got out of the truck, I hollered across to him, "Mornin' Daniel!" From that moment, I was treated to a monologue crossing subjects from football and work the whole way to religion, until just before I began to put away my things to head to the next stop, his ride arrived. Daniel is simple. I'm not sure what that involves, since he looks as normal as just about any other Appalachian twenty five year old and has no noticeable speech defect, but his simplicity becomes glaringly obvious when you engage him in conversation. Maybe I should say when he engages you, because if he is in your presence for twenty seconds, you will be engaged. We all know a Daniel, a simple person who can mostly care for themselves, but is somewhat limited in their ability to function autonomously.  I can think of several people like this who have walked across the stage of my life, and when I think about it, I realize that in the balance most likely they contributed to my life more than I contributed to theirs.
     I remember a man we called Dusty. He had a speech defect, but he could always be seen riding his bicycle around town pulling a lawnmower behind. If you flagged him down, he would always, for a few dollars, mow your lawn or repair any small engine you couldn't get running. He would work each summer, at the Wesleyan family camp as the night watchman and bell ringer, and if you snuck out of the dormitory at night with your friends, you'd most likely be caught by Dusty and brought to your parents to account for your misdeeds. To my shame, I remember sometimes making fun of the way he spoke, when I was hanging around with my friends. It would make him angry when he overheard, and he would give us an earful, but it never dulled his affection for us. Next time he saw you, he'd wave hi and stop and talk. I won't try to romanticize the lives of these people, and I imagine it must be a super difficult life to live for both the simple people and those who are entrusted with their care.
     Though I know the conversation will be very inconvenient and awkward, I look forward to the days when for one reason or another Daniel is standing outside when I arrive to deliver to a certain store in western Virginia.
     Do you have a Daniel or a Dusty in your life? Can you imagine a world without them? Thank God for them all. My life is richer for having shared it with Daniel and Dusty and Zack and Austin and Uncle Jimmy and the other Daniel. Wow, this list could go on! I hope at least a few of them can say their life has been enriched for having known me.

    Nope, I didn't go back and see if this is the only one for the year, but I have made an effort to keep my blog from being a tool to proselytize for my poliltical and religious views.  I figure my world view comes across in my normal writing and as such will mostly leave the hard core politics for other bloggers and the Limbaughs and Maddows on the radio.  I do, though think it is important, in light of the horrible tragedy of this past week to comment on gun control.

    I comment not because of the tragedy.  God bless and comfort those poor families who will, this week, be planning and attending the funerals of those beautiful children and their brave teachers and be looking at unopened Christmas presents under the tree next week. I comment because (hopefully) well meaning politicians on both sides of the aisle, began to salivate as soon as the echoes of the shots quieted and our collective horror had barely commenced.  This, they knew, was just the heart wrenching situation that would bring the emotion that would drive people to blindly support their respective leaders.  The libs are shouting "NO MORE GUNS" while the neocons scream for the arming of every citizen.  You may have seen that I, too, have been drawn into the debate a couple times.  I am a very opinionated person and one who, if unchecked by my own better judgment, will wade into an argument screaming at your idiocy for holding beliefs different from mine.  You may know that I fall far to the conservative side of the argument and hold the belief that we must be able to defend ourselves, but you may not know why.  Here I will offer three of my reasons:

1.  Our country was founded by people fleeing the heavy hand of dictatorial government.  One of the reasons they wrote into the Constitution (Take the time to read some of their writings.  You may be surprised at how vehemently they disagreed about some things, but you will be enlightened as to some of the context of the short document which, at least in theory, governs our country) the right to"...keep and bear arms."

2.  Our courts have made it very clear that we have no guarantee of police protection, meaning the police cannot be held ultimately responsible for our protection.  Cases brought against police departments for failing to respond quickly enough to prevent violent crime, have routinely been decided in favor of the police department.  

3. Governments will take and use whatever power is given to them by the people.  It is not something that happens sometimes.  It is simple historical fact that it will happen.  If a people allows the government to confiscate its guns,  that government will abuse its power against those people.  Understand that in the Soviet Union, Turkey, Germany, China, Guatemala and Cambodia, in the 20th century alone, governments restricted the right to own and carry guns, then proceeded to exterminate over FIFTY MILLION people.  Let me repeat that number 50 MILLION people killed by their own governments in just the twentieth century, because they were defenseless.  The governments used remarkably similar reasoning in many of the cases.  1. Objectify those who would protect themselves.  2. Once the general populace was raised to a zealous fervor, strip those objects of their rights.  3. Destroy or subjugate the defenseless objects of your scorn.   Think we're above that?  We did it to the Indians, the blacks and several groups of immigrants who had not yet learned our language or how to assimilate and assert their rights.  Yes, in our own country!

    Yes, these events like Connecticut are horrible, but we must not allow them to be used as a means to bring about our subjugation.  

    Pooh pooh it if you wish, but any scholar of history will see that we and our leaders are people subject to the same passions as the men of history.  In my life I have heard the phrase many times, "The only good____ is a dead____."  and the blank would be filled in with vile terms for whatever race or group the person had objectified. Blacks and Muslims have been popular targets during parts of my life, but a cursory reading of history will find terms used to objectify Arabs and blacks replaced by similar terms for Irish (my people), Jews, the educated, the rich, Kurds, Armenians, Tutsi, Hutu,pygmy, the Chinese, Japanese, Koreans, and the list could go on.  Make no mistake, a group of people to which you belong are more than likely filling the blanks of that sentence in the minds, if not on the lips of people somewhere in the world.

    So when you hear the ramping up of rhetoric in the coming days,  understand that at stake whenever there is talk of disarming the general public, are not just the lives of several innocent schoolchildren, but the lives and freedom of our whole country, or at least those who will at any point fall out of the favor of whatever government is in power.  

    I am offering this as my opinion and as some context which I think many of us may have not been taught or may have forgotten, and I am leaving it (for now) open to comment as long as opinions are offered respectfully and without personal attack.  Understand this is my blog and as such commenters do not enjoy complete freedom of speech, so if the tenor of the conversation becomes disrespectful, comments may be deleted or the post may be closed for comment.

     So the cat caught a mouse.

     The kids saved the mouse from the cat and put it under a cup so they could get pictures.  

     They were so engrossed in getting pictures, they let the cat knock the cup over and the mouse escaped.

     The wife is not happy.  The wife is especially not happy, because after coming home from the 15 year old's improv show, the mouse ran by her foot and under the couch.

Yes, I'll get there, wait just a minute, though.  First, here's our next try at a family picture.  I am still not  pleased with the result, but at least we had fun.  The kids got a real kick out of me getting everything and everyone in focus and then running to get in the pic before the timer went off, only to get up and do it again, over and over.  The indicator that tells when the camera is level sort of shot me in the foot for this shot, I think.  I debated shooting level or using the fence as level.  I finally decide to go with true level and now that I can see them on the computer, I wish I'd gone with my gut.

We finally got our Christmas tree up.  I think it was Monday. I grabbed a shot of it in the dark before heading off to bed that night.   I love how it sits out in the little nook created by one of the bay windows.

Ok, now to the fashion show.  Last Tuesday night, my girls had some friends over.   Not sure what I was doing, but they were happy and though I could hear them down on the other end of the house, there was no fighting and no crying, so I just let them be.  After a while Gracie came down to me with the camera and asked if, when I got the chance, I'd upload the pictures because they had had a fashion show.  They only got one little girl out of the six of them to be their model, but according to the stories I heard later, they all had fun dolling her up and giving her advice how to pose while Gracie took pictures.  I was impressed at the results, especially considering the whole thing was done by six little girls, all under 11 years old, without any adult intervention or assistance.  So without further ado, here are a few of the "best of" the pics from the show.

Hair and makeup.

Best pics.

 ...and just for fun, a candid.

12/6/12     

I'm sitting home with a crushing headache.  I get these every so often when I work a lot then take some time to rest.  My neck muscles clench and I get one of those headaches that make it just about impossible to function.  Depending on the severity, I have a process I go through to help ease it.  First, I ignore it for a while 'til it becomes unbearable.  Second, I beg one of the kids to massage my neck.  Third, if the neck massage doesn't work,  I pull out the torture rack...uh, I mean the rumble roller.  http://www.rumbleroller.com/  I lay on the floor, put my neck on the roller, lift my butt off the ground so all my weight is on the instrument of torture, then roll it 'til the pain becomes two points past unbearable, then just wait a few minutes 'til it eases a bit and continue 'til the knots are worked out.  Last, if I'm not working the next day and I still have no relief, I hit the tequila.  It normally only takes a shot or two before my muscles start to relax and the pain eases.  This one was so bad, my wife just fixed me a wine glass full of a concoction that I swear was only half grapefruit juice and the other half tequila.  I'll know in a few minutes, but for now, it hasn't hit me yet.  I haven't got the tingling in my toes that comes when the first bit of alcohol hits the bloodstream and starts to work its way up, warming my body like I was pulling a nice warm blanket from my toes right on up to the top of my head.

      I worked my normal route Wed. and Thursday, then was bribed by my boss to help cover another route Friday, got in just in time to get a shower and head out on my normal run Saturday and Sunday.  My boss said he'd pay me extra and get me a helper for Sat. if I ran Friday, so I did, then got the text Fri. afternoon that he wasn't sending me any help, and I'd be running solo.   7 am Monday I got a call begging me to help on a run Tuesday because the driver had called out.  I caved and took the run which turned out to be 400 miles and 33,000 lbs, then when I got back Wed. morning unhitched that trailer and hitched right back on the one loaded for my normal route with, you guessed it, 34,000 lbs.  I did have help on the two this week, but not in the trailer.  I had to stack every single box and tray and pull it out on the liftgate for my helper to roll in the store.  The only good thing was I had someone with whom to share the driving.  I got home this morning just after the sun came up, took a nice hot bath and laid down for a little nap.  Next thing I knew, it was after 3 in the afternoon and I was groggily waking up with this hellacious headache.

     Anyway, since I was pretty much non functional, I sat down at the computer and started to listen to some old songs on YouTube.  As I listened to the songs and commented on some friends' blogs, the memories began to roll and I began to partake of the drug they call reminiscence.  

    I listened to "If you got the money..." and remembered my Dad singing it while he worked.

    I listened to Kris Kristofferson sing "To Beat The Devil" and thought about all the times when just not losing had to count as a victory. "I ain't sayin' I beat the devil, but I drank his beer for nothin', then I stole his song..."

    I listened to "Diggin' Up Bones" and remembered my sister coming home from her job at Dollar General talking about her boss Debby who loved that song and John Anderson's "Swinging".

    I  listened to Keith Whitley singing "A Picture of Me Without You" and remembered my first stay in Wichita Falls at Sheppard Air Fore Base, back when Lorrie Morgan first cut her hair and I wondered why a woman with such beautiful hair would cut it short.  Years later, I would be the one to convince my wife that she would be beautiful with short hair and she really should cut it since she knew that the weight of her heavy, thick, long hair was the cause of her persistent headaches. 

    I thought about archtop guitars and how beautiful they are to look at and how one day, maybe I'll have another, even though however nice it is, it'll never replace the old broken down one my wife bought me at the pawn shop while we were dating.  The one  I lent to a very responsible kid who never saw fit to return it, even when his family moved several states away.

     I put on my "Haggard and Jones" playlist and let the memories wash over me.  The memories of all those long miles running the roads across the US and Canada in my old red Freightliner pulling the slightly newer Fontaine spread axle flatbed.  I let myself be a little proud that despite the age and plainness of my old rig, I would always get complements about how nice it looked, because I used to make a point of taking the time to do a proper job of tarping the load, and a nicely tarped load on a raggedy old truck just looks darn good.  

     I thought with a little joy about the old 86 Honda Shadow sitting out in the front yard.  It ain't new, and it ain't a Harley, and best I can tell, I'm getting ready to put a clutch in it, but it's all black and chrome and has a wonderful rumble when you hit the start button and it comes to life, and I bought it with cash, so like my other cars, it belongs to me, not the bank.  Makes it a little more fun to ride.

  This headache is a killer.   A half hour later, and the only thing the tequila has done is make it a little harder to type correctly.  To be fair, I think it did take a little of the edge off.

   I think these are the good times.  Yep, I'm working like a slave and I have a headache someone thought up in the torture chambers of the Inquisition, but I'm sitting here writing a little, talking to my kids who are sitting around hanging out with their Dad, playing the guitar a little when a good song comes on, and we have everything we need.  Nope, we're not rich, at least monetarily, but  I guarantee there are a lot of rich men who wish they had the rich textured memories I'm enjoying tonight and who wish they had half the people I have to share it with. 

     I'm gonna sign off now, and I hope your Christmas season brings as much joy to you as mine is bringing to me, headache, old country music, hard work and all.

      "I'm feelin' like an old pair of shoes, all wore out from walkin' through these blues.."

     After all the excitement of our trip to Florida, it was nice to have a quiet Thanksgiving with the family.  My brother, for whatever reason, couldn't be talked into coming over today, so it was just us, and it was a quiet, wonderful day.  We slept in, had an early lunch, took a nap and then as the sun began to make its way down the western sky, we headed out to the wharf to try to get a family portrait. The weather was beautiful but our results were mixed.  Some of the pictures are not in good enough focus to enlarge and print, but we'll try again soon.  That said, here are a few I like. 

 Next time I think I'll move them around to face the sun a little more.  

 We'll have to remember to take off our glasses next time.

Gracie took this one

I set up the camera for this one, but Samantha actually framed the shot and took the picture.  They learn this stuff so much more quickly than I do, it's fun to know how to make an effect like this before they get it figured out.  

     For good measure, here are a couple from Florida.  The first is when my 7, 9 and 19 year olds rode a ride that pulled them 300 feet up in the air suspended on a cable and then dropped them to free fall then swing several times.  Here is the picture of them being winched up at the beginning of the ride.

 and slowing at the end of the ride.

     I can be a difficult person.  Just ask my wife.  That said, it is simple things that bring me those moments...you know the ones, when unexpectedly, the parts of your brain that signal pleasure and satisfaction all fire at once and you find an unintentional, "Ahhh..." escaping your lips.

     I got home from work around 3:30 this morning only partially rested.  I had driven out on the run, so when we finished in north Jersey, it was my turn to jump in the sleeper.  I slept the sleep of the dead, closing my eyes on Interstate 280 before we even made the Jersey Turnpike and only being torn unwillingly from the depths of my stupor at the yard four hours later, when my codriver rolled down the windows, opened the curtains, turned all the lights on inside the cab and called my name repeatedly.  I got out and started the car to warm it for the ride home, then unloaded my gear and helped him unhitch.  When I got home,  I took a nice hot bath to ease my tired joints and muscles (the load had been 34,000 pounds) and fell into the bed sometime after 4.  My intent had been to get up with the kids at 7, but I didn't even hear the alarm go off and woke once again only after Tina had come back to bed and the kids traipsed in one by one to hug their Mama  (and oh yeah, Daddy's here, so we'll give him a hug, too) before heading out to meet the bus.  Since today was grandparents day at Isa's school and there would be no grandparents for her (My Dad was the one who made that a special time for the kids.  He would drive up from Florida to be there on some pretense or other.),  Tina cajoled me out of bed to get dressed so we could sit in on Isa's music class before she had to go to work.  At least there would be someone there for her.  We sat through a class on rhythm, said goodbye to Isa and headed down to the Dunkin Donuts where Tina and I  shared sausage, eggs and cheese on an acceptable excuse for an everything bagel.  I dropped Tina at work and made the short drive to the house.  I turned on the computer so I'd have some music in the background, and grabbed the motorcycle keys.  

     It has been a month and a half since I bought the bike, but I hadn't ridden it in a couple weeks.    Prior to the hurricane a couple weeks ago, I had put it under its cover under the shed overhang.  We had then put all the yard furniture and pool supplies away as well, so it was going to take some work to extract it.   I got all the other stuff moved, unbuckled the cover and got it pulled back off the front wheel and over the mirrors when it hit me.  The clear, brisk fall morning air was overpowered by a new complex aroma, part leather, part gasoline and, "Ahh... ", I was attacked by memories of all sorts of good times I've ever had on or around a motorcycle.  I think I'm still riding the endorphines.  

     It got me thinking about the things that can provoke that, "Ahhh..." response:

                Walking in the door and hearing an excited, "Daddy's home!"

                Walking in the house to see my wife who has been upset with me (over the phone) all day about something that she has to deal with alone because I'm several hundred miles away on the truck,  approaching her and watching when I put my arms around her, as all the tension melts away and her eyes say it's all good now.

                When the first hint of the smell of baking apple pie or pinto beans wafts its way down the hall.

                The moment during a hellish day of work or bicycle ride when I feel my second wind coming on.

                The tune of an old, long forgotten song coming from the radio. 

     I'm sure there are more, but I'm curious.  What prompts those feelings for you?  Is it as surprising and new for you each time as it seems to be for me?

     Hope your holiday week is going well.  I'm off to Easton now to get my motorcycle inspected.

     I have this thing about collecting instruments that catch my fancy.  We have several guitars, a dobro, a fiddle, a trombone, a marimba, a mandolin, an accordion, several guitars, and probably some I've forgotten about.  I've always thought it would be cool to learn to play the fiddle, so I bought one several years ago and one daughter took lessons, and I tried a few times, then forgot about it.  This year, the 9 year old, Rebekah  began taking lessons, and her teacher affixed temporary position marks to the neck.  I just picked it up and for the first time produced something that sounded like music.  This is pretty cool! Maybe one day, I'll be able to be an obscure fiddler to go along with my mediocre ability to play about fifteen other instruments.

     In other news, the kids got a kick out of my search for words when the cheater bar I was using to help break loose the lug nuts on the Suburban came off  the lug wrench and inflicted quite a blunt force to my thumb. All I could do was dance around in pain and say....nothing.  

Amazing how your vocabulary is reduced when you experience sudden pain.  I searched all six available words in my brain and none of them were fit for use, so I just danced around and said nothing.  The kids very seldom see me angry or not in control of my emotions, so initially they  stood in quiet respect of their father's pain, until Gracie piped up, "Daddy's doing the pee pee dance!  What's wrong Daddy, you gotta go? Haha! Daddy why would you dance around like that when the bathroom's right inside the house?"  My kids think they're comedians.

       Gracie, taking advantage of the fact that her Daddy was busy changing the tire stuck a hat on my head and snapped off a quick shot.

Haha! comedians....but it's funny that the same person is the butt of all the jokes.  Guess that's why Daddys have broad shoulders.