To infinity and beyond!!

This is a sad day in Betty’s world. 

Today’s obituary: Neil Alden Armstrong (August 5, 1930 – August 25, 2012) was an American NASA astronaut, test pilot, aerospace engineer, university professor, United States Naval Aviator, and the first person to set foot upon the Moon.

Let that sink in for a moment.  The first man to set foot on the moon, July 26 1969 has perished. 

Although he was just one N.A.S.A. (National Aeronautics and SpaceAdministration) team member in a pool of extremely intelligent and talented individuals, Mr. Armstrong was lucky enough to be chosen to command Apollo 11 and even luckier to be first down the LEM (Lunar Excursion Module) planting his feet firmly in lunar soil then muttering the all too familiar phrase “That’s one small step for man; one giant leap for mankind” thus forever cementing his name in American history. 

Little known fact: Mr. Armstrong actually stated “That’s one small step for (a) man: one giant leap for mankind” as man/mankind would have been improper use of the English language because man is synonymous with mankind.  But the (a) was blocked by static so the recording and phrase we all know to this day is forever cemented in history. 

So why is Betty so sad?  Mr. Neil Armstrong was one of my childhood hero’s! In elementary school I would read about space missions up to and including landing on the moon.  Then I would run out and play as if I were an astronaut.  Circling the jungle gym like it was the moon, coming in slowly, after burners at half thrust, slowly easing my spacecraft onto the top then leaping to the ground screaming; “that was one small leap for all kids, one giant landing for all kidkind!”

Yep we all wanted to be astronauts! Space suits, space ships, stars and planets, we dreamed and we dreamed big.  At night coming in from the barn the moon would call to me like a lost friend.  Staring at its kindly giant face, wondering what it was like to stand on its forehead looking back at our giant blue sphere. Knowing that Neil Armstrong stood there, gazing upon his home from a perch that few would ever see! What did he think, how did he feel? Was he scared? Did he worry that he and his crew may never come home? 

Yeah space the final frontier; these are the voyages of the star ship Enterprise! Her five year mission to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before! Crap! Wait wrong fantasy!  I also used to pretend I was Captain James T. Kirk, but that story is for another time.

Astronauts, sheriffs, firefighters, teachers, superheroes (Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Capt. America etc..) Cowboys, sports heroes, they were all there for us to idolize and admire.  To dream about becoming as we grew into adults.  These images forever etched into our minds, approved of by our parents and lived in the fantasy play periods of our afternoons. 

Where are today’s heroes? Who do our children have to look up too? When my kids are in their forties who will they look back upon as being their childhood heroes? Computer generated actors? Rappers? Boy bands? Disney created childhood mental cases waiting to explode as adults? I am just not seeing it! Where are the brazen leaders, moral guided heroes, larger than life humans that stand by their convictions leading the way for all youngsters to dream?

Am I wrong? Is it just me?

Rest in Peace Neil Armstrong.  Thank you for the endless hours of dreaming your bravery brought to my young life.   

 

License to drive…

 

Mirrors adjusted? Check! Seat is in the proper position? Check! Steering wheel is placed at the optimal level for a 10 and 2 hand hold? Check! Are you mentally ready to drive today son? To which a death glare is leveled upon my kindly old man face.

And so goes the dilemma a father faces while teaching his 16-year-old to drive. His son frigidly sits behind the wheel; grip tighter than a vise, knuckles Casper white as the truck moves slowly out of the driveway onto our mile long dirt road.  Plenty of room here to screw things up before he merges with the masses of Dario Franchitti’s/ Dale Earnhardt’s vying for position on Americas roadways! 

Now all of this is supposed to be a monumental moment; a point in family history where a father enjoys sharing his knowledge of the road and joy of driving with his son/daughter. Yet all I feel is fear! Now over my storied employment history there have been numerous adults who learned to drive the behemoth 18 wheelers that dot our highway landscape from your truly! Never once did I trickle even the smallest droplet of sweat! I could firmly place my cup of coffee on the dashboard and nary a drop would spill from the styrofoam chalice. Yet with the family prodigy I am as nervous as a death row inmate waiting for a pardoning phone call. 

Maybe my nerves would wear a little softer if my son showed some “drive” (nice play on words huh?) when it comes to this enormous responsibility. But he is so lackadaisical about the whole process it leaves me screaming ugly profanities inside my head! Why? Why is so indifferent? Why does he not seem to care about the outcome? He doesn’t come across as self entitled. He says he truly wants to learn the finer art of motoring. Yet getting him into gear (another fine motoring reference) has been sticky to say the least!

When I was a kid (flashback moment-didiloo,didiloo,didilooooo) life was like this;

Hi everyone my name is little Betty! I am only 13 years old and I love cars! I have models of cars that I built scattered all over my room, wanna see? The Chevelle and 1957 Bel-Air are my favorite cars but I would drive a Chevy truck with a 454, nice wheels, tires, painted blue with ghost flames! Yes sir by golly that is the truck for me! I clean horse stalls and do all sorts of chores saving money up so that one day I can get my license, purchase my truck and drive where ever and whenever I want! Only 23 months, 2 weeks, 4 days, 16 hours and 12 minutes until I get my license! I like to sit in my dads old GMC and pretend I am driving all over town! Every day after school and on the weekends if you want to find me, that’s right where I’ll be! Ahhhh Shucks, I can’t wait to drive!!!

Flash forward-(didiloo, didiloo, didiloooooo)

It’s taking so long to turn 16! Being 15 is a giant pain in the butt! Do you know when I turn 16 I will own the coolest truck in town and be dating girls left and right! Summer is gonna blow if I don’t get my license! Man, cruising around in moms station wagon with my permit is a giant drag! But I’ll let you in on a little secret.  Shhhh come in a little closer so no one else can hear; when my parents are gone I steal the old man’s GMC and cruise all over town! I know cool huh! Yeah its ugly but seriously who cares and who needs to be 16, when you have an all access pass to party time with no license needed! Turn up the tunes, pick up the friends and whoop, whoop, just cruise! As long as I am home before 8, because you know that’s when my parents get back from their Monday night association meeting and my dad would kill me if he found out! Oh yeah, I am soooo cool!

Flash forward a little more (didiloo, didiloo di-oh you get the point)

Yes! I have my license! I have a truck! I have freedom! Life is great! So long suckers, I’m hitting the road, places I need to see, things I need to do and they don’t involve this place! Van Hagar playing loud, windows rolled down so all you “walkers” can partake in some choice music as I roll on by! Owning a car is fantastic! If you have the means I highly recommend it!!

Present day:

I get nothing from the lad! No enthusiasm for driving, cars or trucks, nothing, nothing at all.  Where have I gone wrong? Is this even my child? Spinning donuts in the parking lot, drag racing out on Fry road, cruising downtown Petaluma on a Saturday night with hundreds of other cool cars and trucks! Loud music, screaming, laughing and having a general good time! Isn’t that enough to entice a young lad to give it a go; to want his license more than anything on this God forsaken planet?

What is that you say? Cruising has been deemed against the law? Hanging out with your friends is considered loitering? A custom car with loud pipes and a cool stereo is now disturbing the peace? To even think of working on your own car you need to aquire a Bachelor’s Degree in Mechanics. On top of that insurance and gasoline are five times the price they were when I was a kid?

Well hell, it all makes perfect sense now! What incentive does the lad have? Why would he want to drive at all?  Why would he even care? Apparently there is a reason they are called the “good old days”.  Because it was good and now we are old which leaves the youth of today nothing but boring days ahead!

So out of the driveway we go, his hands in the perfect 10 and 2 position, the stereo is on, air conditioner set and he is piloting this barge very well down the road.  I resist the urge to browse Facebook as we roll through the countryside. I am trying to build his self-confidence by acting like I fully trust him while I am slyly paying attention to every little detail of his driving manners.  It still ends up being a moment I will cherish forever.  We drive many miles over several days with small corrections here and there, then finally giving him the freedom to drive comfortably without repercussion he relaxes and settles back into the seat.  Another driver on the road, another human reaching the pinnacle of freedom for their age; He may be ready to take the final test securing his permanent license. It might be time for the sensei to release his student out into the world. We pull the truck over and with a sincere smile along with the adoring eyes of his father I lean in and tell him what a good job he is doing, he slowly looks over with a half cocked smile and says thanks. Still no real excitement on his part…

Maybe we should just scrap the whole idea and find him some public transit?

Another page…

Reflection:

Betty is turning another year older tomorrow (or today depending on what timeline you reside) and with it brings a myriad of inner struggles rolling through my ever spinning brain on a daily basis.  There are so many things to accomplish yet time is running amuck.  These “things” spin wildly out of control consuming my thoughts every minute of every day; feeling as though there is some great stopwatch in the sky ticking away every second of my life!  A timekeeper resting upon the outer edge, screaming down to me like the gate-keeper from The Wizard of Oz: “you are running out of time”!  

In life I have always done things the hard way, it is just my nature! Repeatedly I feel a need to fail at something, helping me to understand the nuances, finer points, angles, and basic structure of whatever I am trying to achieve.  Never having been gifted with any great talent, most of my life has been left wondering why? My grandmother once told me “when you find what you were meant to do in life you will love it, cherish every moment of it, and crave the pursuit of “it” for the rest of your life”. She stood by that statement and achieved many great moments in her life including writing and publishing her memoirs. Those words, her words continue to haunt my thoughts, leaving me empty wanting to try everything without truly finding something to cling too.

Once told I would never amount to anything.

Throughout my existence there were several times the above statement was thrown into my face, and though it has been a driving force in whom I have become, it has also become an obstacle to success, an easy way out when things get difficult, as in; “well I was never expected to amount to anything, so what did you expect”? Turning another year older, one would think a bruising phrase would slowly fade away; disappear like a trapped antelope in funneling quicksand. Yet every now and again it rears its ugly, brooding head leaving me stunned and hurting inside.

Looking upon my life there have been quite a few major accomplishments, successes that are by no means trivial and yet I still feel empty/unfinished.  I feel as though there is something “greater” for me out there, something bigger than myself left to do.

How do I tame this feeling? What can I do to quench my thirst for greatness? Why can’t I just be satisfied with what has been achieved in my life so far?

Something tells me I may never know the answer.

Here is what I do know.  Writing is devilishly fun! Making people laugh, pulling out emotions you didn’t know you held the strings too, sharing stories/experiences everyone can relate with is exhilarating to say the least! I plan on continuing this effort, hopefully growing and sharing other people’s experiences along the way. Life is a journey that should be shared and hopefully someday we can all share it together.

So another year in the books, hundreds more stories to write and one man who goes by the name of Betty left smiling, frowning, laughing, crying and hoping someday he will slowly figure out this crazy little thing called life…or at the very least figure out how to slow down these voices in his head, using them for good not evil..

Closing abstract light, vision obscured, only anticipation, arousal, and intrigue are left to sensory overload. What will happen, where will we go? Eyes darting side to side while covered by fleshy matter, blinded, yet everything is seen clearly, concise and vibrant. A story, soliloquy, or diatribe, what lays in store for this personal moment? Holding no control over any outcome yet relishing the moment, for it is all mine;  no one can enter these locked chambers, pilfer my seconds, part with peaceful noise. 

Drawing winds from the south, entering through inspiration, swirling, turning unstable air removes all waste, clears all debris then retreats to the north as fast as it came. Sometimes forceful other times with gentle relief.   Regardless an engine is fueled, light shines in, darkness retreats, a story unfolds and a brain once void of feelings, numb, weighed down by the trappings of a daily routine is unleashed through paired hands.   The end product of a mind not left to waste, an imagination once thought sterile, creativity not classically trained but allowed to flourish through determination. 

This is how writing has changed my life…..

Thank you grandma, I think I found the “it” you were describing.

(Beulah Fabris; 1913-2006)

Olympic Bound..

Watching the 2012 London Olympics over the last 12 days has left me in athletic awe! How I yearn for a challenge of that magnitude,  to focus mind, body and soul on one sporting activity, rise to the challenge, overcome insurmountable obstacles to be the very best that I can become!

Yes it is true, like many young people around the world I have decided to become an Olympian! To feel the thunderous roar of an adoring crowd, performing at the peak of my physical prowess, standing atop an Olympic podium while our National Anthem plays and I (being the great Olympian I am)do my best to lip sync the words knowing that someone at home can tell I have no idea what the hell they are! Yes, YES I want to be that guy!! (Thunderous applause)

Sadly, there is one little problem with my dream, a small issue really but a problem none the less.  I am 45 years old and last I checked there weren’t too many athletes at 45 breaking ANY world records! Oh sure I run most days (3-5 miles), work out constantly in the gym,and eat (somewhat)right, yet near a 4 minute mile I am not! In fact I don’t believe there to be anyone currently cresting the precipice of senior citizenship dominating the track and field ranks! Not one person of age flowing effortlessly without the aid of Ben-Gay or a walker traversing a gymnastics canvas! Not one person that can be referred to as “sir” or “ma’m”  swimming at dolphin like speed or rowing sculls with the ease of a 5 horse power outboard! So what‘s a guy like me to do? All these dreams, hopes, aspirations bottled up inside ready to explode upon the scene? What to do, WHAT TO DO?????

ANSWER:

I will “do” as any red-blooded American father would; I will impose my wishes upon my children!  Disguise their efforts as being “what they want”!  Twist their little minds and stress their little bodies fulfilling my dreams not theirs! Propping them up high on a pedestal of half-truths with statements like; you are the best, no one can perform like you, daddy loves you even when you fail (lie), oh and remember we are doing all of this just for you!  Yeah that’s the ticket!

Want to join the swim/dive team? Well then you will swim/dive morning and night everyday all year round eating tofu and drinking tiger’s milk! Up the ladder jump! Onto the starting block, jump! Swim, swim, swim and dive, dive, dive! Honing your craft, building your skill set and slowly becoming a champion! Hee, hee hee!

Gymnastics, wrestling, boxing or trampoline; No problem, hit the gym kid and don’t worry about school, you don’t need friends from the outside, you have us! Gym people are your family now, plus we’ll get you a tutor so training is all you focus on! LOOOOVVEEE YYOOUUU!

Want to be a runner/sprinter? Peeeerrrrrffffeeeecccccttttt…….

Get the hell out of the car right now! Start running! Oh don’t worry, we won’t leave you behind, but if the Australian Runners can train in the desert and those little Kenyan kids can run from village to village out of necessity thusly making the Olympics as young adults; then your sorry little butt can run out of pride! The pride you are going to bring your father when he receives his Olympic passes in 2016 whoop, whoop (tear in my eye)!! That right kid; so shut your pie hole and start running, we have little time and lots of miles and injuries to get through so WE can make it to the national trials! Oh yeah, give me a hug because daddy thinks your number one!

So there it is, my plan is in place! National exposure, our countries pride along with selfless coaching on my part will bring them to the forefront of the Olympic stage! Thereby ultimately allowing me to perform as an Olympian! Genius, pure genius I tell you!!!

They may hate me for a while but once a Gold medal is around my neck; whoops I mean around their neck (wink, wink)it will all be worth it; right? Yes sir look out NBC’s Today show here we come!!

In closing, later tonight we will stand in front of a mirror while developing our signature “thanking Jesus” ritual!

                                To the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat!!!

 

Writers Block

Dreaded writers block! The undoing of many great writers throughout history! You are left staring blankly at a tablet, mind numb to all receptors, nothing passing through the vast wasteland of Dura matter encompassed by cranial fluid that is your brain. Drat, drat double drat!

What brings on this most dreaded of phenomenon’s? Is it a cramp of the brain muscle? Have I reached the end of the internet? Are my children really just normal, leaving me with nothing humorous to write about? Is Misery Chastain really dead and out of self-preservation the brain has decided to protect itself from the pain associated with blocked ankles? So confused, so incredibly confused……


Annie Wilkes: God came to me last night and told me your purpose for being here. I am going to help you write a new book.
Paul Sheldon: You think I can just whip one out?
Annie Wilkes: Oh, but I don’t think Paul, I know.

The movie “Misery” Columbia pictures 1990

Steven King novelist

 There are moments when sparks fly, images rule, ideas flow like wine from a forbidden glass! This usually happens when there is nary a writing utensil to be found or the battery on my iPhone has perished leaving me stranded, mired in my own neglect! Then just as a pen appears from seemingly nowhere, (meaning it’s been retrieved from under the seat of my car) and a piece of paper has been salvaged from a wadded up hamburger wrapper POOF! Those very ideas are gone like yesterdays lunch! (Where the wrapper came from)  Left with nothing to show for my efforts a mindless argument rages unchecked in my head! Think, think, think, damn you think!!!!

Writer’s block is a condition, primarily associated with writing as a profession, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work. The condition varies widely in intensity. It can be trivial, a temporary difficulty in dealing with the task at hand. At the other extreme, some “blocked” writers have been unable to work for years on end, and some have even abandoned their careers! –Wikipedia definitions

Not being able to write is like taking yoga away from a granola eating Southern California super model, marijuana from Cheech and Chong, alcohol from a Jimmy Buffett concert, the bull away from Bull Riding! AAARRRGGGG!!! What fun would life be if one couldn’t write anymore? How would you relax at the end of the day? Maybe one could have a glass of wine, take a long deep breath, or find a comfortable chair, but then what? WHAT!!!

What would I do without the ability to express myself on paper, let those inner demons flow without retribution from society or the targets of a few jagged little barbs? It baffles the mind to say the least! Creativity comes in all shapes, forms and guises! Relaxation is only found within a few well observed areas of one’s life and mine so happens to come from pen and paper, keyboard and operating system, dry wit, children and senseless humor! How can I possibly go on knowing my brain is so barren it can’t relinquish a simple story!!!!  My eyes capture the picture, yet hold no definition from a darkened thought, a crippled hand, an empty pen.  

Ahhhhhh-sad sigh..

So I sit, needlessly staring at my computer pondering the definition of Oxymoron.

 “Writing about a writer’s block is better than not writing at all”
Charles Bukowski, The Last Night of the Earth Poems

 

 

 

Art of the lie…

Art of the lie

I received a very interesting phone message today while traveling down the freeway at 65 mph in a bright green fire engine.  Interesting not with any windfall of knowledge or wealth coming my way. Interesting not in the fact that my wife, who left the message never leaves me messages. (she would rather talk to me personally) No this phone call triggered my curious Spock (Star Trek) one eyebrow lifted facial response for the pure and simple fact it was a lie. 

Now being a parent of four children, teaching the transparency in human nature associated with a lie is of the utmost importance. Nothing brings down fatherly wrath faster than a child caught in a lie.  A reminder that lying brings nothing but ridicule and solitude as no one wishes to be around you is never more prevalent in my household once you have been detained for said infraction. 

But….

There is something to be said about the art of the lie? All lies start out simple enough, the truly gifted can carry them thru lie after lie building upon a story that eventually not even a used car salesmen would buy.  But there are the chosen few, the masters, individuals with special gifts who get it right the first time.  Capturing you with an opening line, reel you in by the lip while never doubting their story for a second! You walk away wowed and in the end, thinking to yourself; I wish my life was as good as that guys! 

These “super liars” have creativity, something so many of us human beings lack these days.  An ability to play out an entire scenario inside their head like a bad romance novel.  Starting at page one the lie is not complete until they have personally closed the imaginary book inside their cranium.  Egomaniacal? Yes! Self centered;? Yes! Able to leave you mesmerized by their charming guiles? Yes! The gifted liar is truly a sight to behold.

Back to the beginning.

After arriving at the hospital to retrieve my crew, I took a moment and withdrew my phone to see who called. Seeing it was in fact my wife I eagerly touched the voicemail button and sat mesmerized as my wife simply stated; So here’s the story, the kids are all running right? And they see a hawk with a kitten in its hand and Cody goes and shoots the hawk out of the air and the kids save the kitten and brought the kitten home. That’s the story…

Thought number one: Cody knows better than to shoot a hawk.

Thought number two: Really the cat lived after falling, how many feet to the ground? Cats have nine lives and I have witnessed my fair share of cats falling from high distances (yes the fire department does get called out for cats in trees, it’s not a myth) but out of the air with nothing to break its fall? Suspicion looms..

Thought number three: Cody is a hell of a shot, but really, a hawk flying away with food trapped in its claws.

Hmmmmm something is definitely afoot.

It turns out our kids found a kitten roaming alongside the road, down the street from our house.  Now since we live in the middle of nowhere, 3/4 of the way down a 2 mile dirt road, odds of it belonging to someone are slim, so our children concocted this farce believing my wife and I would accept the wounded feline, dinner plate survivor into our abode with open arms never once questioning the complexity of their story. 

They were 100% wrooooo—-RIGHT!

After careful discussion, and not wanting to reward a blatant lie, my wife and I chose too privately commend the story telling effort, while publicly reminding the children lying was never acceptable.  Yet the four of them, along with two young family members visiting for the week actually put their heads together thinking about the welfare of this little animal and came up with one fo the best bull pucky stories we had heard in a while from any of their little brains.  Ah the joy of teamwork!

They were outed for the lie, we all laughed heartily at the effort. A true family moment to be remembered and most likely told to grand children someday.

It was only after I hung up the phone, while sitting at my desk waiting for the computer to open up did it dawn on me. 

We just helped them, by awakening their creative story telling skills! It like putting water on a seed once a day, then feeding it tons of sunlight.  Before long it will grow and evolve leading them inevitably to “the art of the lie.”

 

Haiti Mission Trip part 11 The last day

 

Friday June 15th 2012

This morning the group is filled with a combination of excitement and sadness.  It’s that feeling you carried with you at the end of summer camp.  Happy to go home yet saddened to no longer be surrounded by these people whom you have become close to in an abnormally short amount of time.  Knowing when you wake up tomorrow the scenery will be completely different. Your feet, your body and soul will no longer encompass this place you called home for the last 8 days. It’s as if you were never there, then you ask yourself; if I come back to this place will it be the same? Will I carry the same feeling of accomplishment and joy currently residing within my being?  Could there ever be another group as wonderful, humorous and caring as ours?

We had our last breakfast, we cleaned up our rooms and many of us left suitcases filled with clothes, shoes and other belongings behind for the church to distribute to its members.  Everything was moved downstairs quietly towards the loading zone as the guest house trucks arrived to cart us away.  Small talk and innocent giggles were had by all.  Before any of us had time to sit and reflect any further it was time to go.  Our final goodbyes, our last au revoir or in Haitian; bay-bay; goodbyes are always miserable.  Some small tears were shed, many blank faces climbed aboard our chariot home. As we pulled away I looked back at our temporary home and sighed.  Many days I was ready to leave, while other days I couldn’t wait for the next challenge and now here I was watching it disappear in my rear view.  Mixed emotions swelled inside bringing tears of joy to my face. 

It only took a few minutes for most to settle down and you could see many reflecting as we rolled along towards the guest house.  Gone were the naïve Americans white knuckling their ride through town, in their place were 10 seasoned mission participants who no longer feared NASCAR style driving, crowded streets, UN personnel, language barriers, and humidity. The further we traveled from Leveque the easier it was to accept our next destination.  The guest house was looking more and more inviting. Yet inside I was already longing to see our new-found friends again.  I knew there would be another mission team in two weeks, then another after that and so on.  Before long the people of Leveque would forget who we were but I was positive they would never forget our contribution.  We had all talked about traveling back to see the finished church, I feel as though this is my next personal mission. 

After 30 minutes we arrived at a dirt road that headed back into the hills; this led up to the mass grave constructed for an estimated 316,000 who perished on January 12, 2010.  We had all declined the offer to see this memorial.  Not out of disrespect mind you, but from exhaustion.  The further we travelled the more we all relaxed and exhaustion was evident on every person inside that bus.  The bus turned anyways and up the hill we traveled.  Letting out a heavy sigh of frustration my mind-set was soon replaced upon arrival to the memorial. 

Where a sloping hillside once stood now lay a football field sized plateau. Of to the left, closer to the original hillside sat a marble monument.  Simple in stature and design, looking upon it you suddenly felt remorse for ever thinking you could drive by this place without stopping.  To get at the memorial you needed to traverse this football field sized area which meant walking over the dead.  Humbling to say the least; the entire area lays in clear view of the ocean with a gentle sea breeze enveloping you where you stand. A picture perfect view for all souls at rest; with my head hung low I made my way back to the bus where I vowed to never look past another’s reflection of the past to meet my own personal needs.

Two hours, lots of sweat, a few bumpy roads and we were back inside the comforts of the guest house.  A facility that when I arrived looked as though it had seen better days, but to me on this day it appeared as though it was the Grand Hilton, the Four Seasons, the Fairmont, it was filled with luxury and comfort. After unloading both vehicles I made my way upstairs to our rooms where immediately the i-phone was plugged back into the world.  After 30 minutes of returning e-mails, sending pictures and catching up on work I found a clean pair of swim shorts and headed to the pool.  

Our entire group was here and after jumping in I realized it was the first time I had actually been cool for 8 days. It was fantastic!  Water, cool water all around my skin, no sweat, no wet clothes, we all swam until our fingers shriveled up.  Many of during the course of discussion joked that when you arrive at the guest house for the first time the pool should be off-limits.  Because you can only truly understand the significance of this little concrete gem after you have sweated your ass off for 8 days! Of course we were only joking, maybe….

After dinner our group was invited into another structure for a debriefing.  We all shared our stories of trial and triumph with the coordinator.  I am sorry to say I don’t remember her name as she was the replacement for Sara who had finished her tenure on this assignment.  It was an excellent way to end our journey as we spoke very highly of the church congregation in Leveque.  We also discovered there have only been a couple of instances when a going away party was thrown for the team. She had heard lots of compliments about our group over the week and was impressed we took the entire building to the ground.  We all left feeling very good about our efforts, knowing we came together as one and performed to the best of our abilities, it was gratifying to say the least. 

As the night wore down we all trailed off to bed.  The 1950’s metal bunk with cotton batted mattress I despised the first night felt like a goose down bed from heaven.  Drifting off to sleep all my brain could focus on was the pride I held inside for our group, the immense fatherly pride I held for my son, the new friendships I now cherished and the thought of hearing my wife’s voice the minute we touched down on American soil tomorrow.  Sleep came quickly…

 

Haiti Mission Trip 2012 part 12 Coming home..

Saturday June 16th 2012

Bleary eyed and disoriented most of us stumbled around trying to figure out whether we were coming or going.  A nice cool shower, a shave, and a fresh clean pair of clothes for travel, we were one by one getting ready for the long ride home.  Our final breakfast together was filled with prayer, laughter and stories of the past week, a truly fantastic way to end this journey. As we gathered our belongings, purchased our last gifts, distributed passports and documentation, the anticipation of finally being on a plane home started setting in on us all.  Loading up and pulling through the iron gates for the last time I was finally ready to go, ready to be home again.  I had come to this country with a simple goal, tear down a building, with that goal complete; I found myself leaving with so much more, more than I could ever have imagined obtaining from this little tropical island and its people. 

The airport was controlled chaos, people moving you here and there; the same issue we had previously upon arrival in country with baggage handlers reared its ugly head as we unloaded from our bus.  John C took the front, Paul was in the middle and John G and I took up the rear of our group ensuring no one was separated or bags grabbed. A few of us purchased some last-minute gifts before entering the boarding area, while others just made their way upstairs.  The terrace was crowded and hot but at this point no one cared. After an hour we loaded and were finally on our way.  The flight was quiet and uneventful, (except for the reemergence of the corn muffin) most of us were quietly enjoying the in-flight movie, or sleeping.

Landing in Miami the winds were blowing very hard and our arrival was hair-raising to say the least! As we deplaned heading into the terminal there was an indescribable feeling that came with walking on American soil.  There is something to be said about the freedoms we Americans enjoy on a daily basis. It takes experiencing the trials and tribulations of another country to fully grasp this immense gift we have been given, it is the reason people fight and die trying to reach American shores.

We all gathered for one last dinner together before catching the last leg of our travels home. During dinner every one of us was plugged back into society.  8 days with little cell phone use and an abundance of conversation, now with little more than 5 hours left together we all were texting, Facebooking and catching up with family and friends. Cody called his mom the minute we landed in Miami, giving her a short synopsis of his adventures. I called her sometime after that and relished in hearing her voice.  I couldn’t wait to land in SF and see her face.

The 5 hour flight was uneventful and in the blink of an eye we were face to face with loved ones.  Our dear friend Alisa (Maggie’s mom) drove her commuter van down to pick us up. When they pulled up curbside my wife was hanging a welcome home sign out the window! We all hugged saying our last goodbyes as Paul and Mason went their separate ways with family and friends.  Climbing into the van sitting next to my wife for the ride home the whole trip seemed surreal.  A years’ worth of planning, fundraising, meetings the anticipation of going and it was all over, done, we were home. Sharing our stories of adventure with Alisa and my wife Jacy the trip home went very quickly. My body was exhausted; there was a numbness that took over as we made our way to the house at 1 am Sunday morning. 

Hot water! Hot water flowing over my body in copious amounts! Soap and a towel smelling of bleach; the sound of little Parker snoring while Jake sleeps quietly in the bunk above him, being home is grand.  Slipping into a clean shirt and shorts, I stroll downstairs, peek in on Jessica then over to check on Cody finding him completely passed out, his dog Cricket (who he missed more than family) snuggled up to him lying under his arm. I whisper Goodnight son, thank you for coming with me on this great adventure, I love you. Then slowly close his door as Cricket raises an ear at the creaky hinges.  

Climbing into bed, looking at my wife lying next to me sleeping I feel as though I may be the luckiest man alive; a nice house, a soft bed, a woman who loves me, food in my refrigerator, an awesome family, wonderful friends and a great job.  When I left for Haiti my feelings were that of a married man with a wonderful family, yet I didn’t have enough, I wanted more, feeling as though with budget cuts at work, an increased workload (both at work and home) and a severely dwindling income our lives were becoming extremely difficult.  Over ten days I learned what difficult truly was, I also learned how to be happy even content with my life in those same ten days. I learned from emulating my Haitian friends.

A Haitian is thankful for each day

A Haitian is thankful for the food on their plate

A Haitian is thankful for friends and family, willing to do anything at anytime or anywhere for someone in need

A Haitian is thankful for God’s love

A Haitian believes every little moment is a gift from God

A Haitian believes hardship instills belief and all hardships can be overcome with a willing attitude

A Haitian doesn’t know the word can’t

A group of Haitians changed my life forever. I am filled with joy, love and appreciation for all God has blessed me with in this life. For that I can never repay them, I pray for the little group in Leveque and hope one day I can revisit this special place to sit and worship in a brand new church.  A church built with love and devotion from many caring hands who know there are no obstacles that can’t be overcome with God’s help.

And to our church group; the nine of you are amazing human beings. You are all caring, loving, hard-working people who I am very proud to call my friends.  We may not talk everyday, we may only see each other once in a while or only know what the other is up to through Facebook but there is one thing we will share for eternity.  It will bind us till the day we leave this earth.

Haiti

I love you all, thank you for the time of my life.. 

OSHA out…..

 

Haiti Mission Trip part 10: Working on a chain gang…

Thursday June 14th, 2012

Waking up this morning there was an incredible sense of accomplishment.  Standing at the balcony brushing my teeth gazing upon the remnants of a building.  Its amazing what people can do when they put their minds too it.  Where a large church once stood there now remains nothing but rubble.  A hazard taken to the ground so a new beginning can emerge. 

While finishing up last night it still bothered me the way our combined group began to fall apart once “Bald guy” appeared then started barking orders to the Haitian workers.  Not being one to let things go I cornered Caz asking him questions in regards to the incident hoping it would help me better understand what had happened.  According to Caz; (my interpretation) after the earthquake Bald guy lost some of his family and his home, while others were running about not know what to do, he took it upon himself to start uncovering people trapped in the debris.  He has orchestrated the removal of many earthquake damaged buildings through nothing more than sheer will, muscle and desire.   The workers look up to him because of his reputation; definitely feeling like the right “call” had been made in allowing him to take down the portico, it all made complete sense to me now.  Pride is a powerful thing and this man held enough for our entire crew, and with that I salute you Bald guy.  You were grumpy, slightly mean and unorthodox in your methods but you were completely in the right.

Today we began moving concrete, lots and lots of concrete. The pile closest to the school needs to be replied into the confines set forth by our esteemed project engineer. All of the remaining concrete block covering the church slab needs to be shuttled onto a new site out front.  Making matters worse new cinder block arrived yesterday and half our crew has started working on a new wall surrounding the church.  Half the manpower twice the work and it appears today will be the hottest yet.  Time to buckle down and get to it.

Now moving concrete rubble one piece at a time is very tedious work indeed.  Your mind needs someplace to go as one oversized rock after another is thrown into a pile some 15-25 feet away. When there are only three shovels, three wheel barrows and 13 people, someone is getting their hands dirty.  A few of us took up residence out front slowly throwing one chunk at a time, while others tackled the relocation of the rear pile.  The ones with shovels and wheel barrows took to clearing the pad distributing the mass between both piles.   It was long, slow hot and tedious work. 

Around noon time a few of us were feeling the effects of the abnormally hot day.  Exhaustion from the weeks work combined with knowing just how close we were to finishing began to play mentally with our minds. I drank more water during this one day than all other days combined. Showing the signs of exhaustion there would be no more “slow sipping” for this cat. No sir it was chug a lug all day long! As soon as one water bottle had emptied another was filled than devoured by my ravenous thirst.  Not alone I noticed many of our crew working in 15-20 minutes segments then sitting in the shade for 15-20 minutes.  The “quitter” side of me was working hard on my brain, but my conscience continued to override the thought process. 

Joh G (Hammer) on the other hand was a freaking machine! This guy could not get enough of smashing things with his hammer! I secretly looked up to him for strength, if Hammer was getting up to go work some more than gosh darn it I was too! It felt like an eternity, as though no progress was being made one rock at a time, one shovel full at a time, one wheel barrow full at a time! It had become slightly disheartening.

Spirits crushed, exhaustion ruling my head I decided taking a break from the site was in order.  Spending the whole week working on the building left me at a loss for interacting with the school children.  Something I was looking forward too prior to the trip.  Maggie, Jan, Heather, Anne,Cody and Caz all headed up towards the school for some scheduled classroom time.  Every fiber in my body screamed “go back to work”as I headed up to the school compound! But I knew in my heart I needed to swallow the pride of completion, get out of the sun and go have fun with the children. 

 Entering the classroom it was clear everyone was having a fantastic time.  All of the children were in the throes of making bracelets from string.  Each one of our group was spread around helping children with their projects! One little boy sitting at the table in front of me tapped me on the shoulder showing what an impressive job he had done with his project.  All of them smiled, laughed and generally appeared to be taking the bracelet project quite seriously.  Cody started out quiet as usual but after having Maggie drag him around a few times he started talking with the kids. It was good for him. The boys seem to look up to him and were always confused by his quiet demeanor.

Back at the job site, feeling refreshed, and ready to tackle the mound of mess something occurred to me! It’s funny how being gone for a little while takes you out of the little visionary tunnel you have stuck yourself inside.  The piles were noticeably bigger! The church slab seemed a little cleaner and it appeared maybe, just maybe with a little luck we would get it cleaned up before 3pm today! Our agreed upon goal during lunchtime quickly became; clean the floor off so as we leave the children will have a safe place to play soccer; definitely an attainable goal.

The day was long and hard, but we completed our goal! My estimate would be approximately 25-30 tons of debris moved by hand! The floor was clean for the kids and we all were excited, having accomplished our goal! It also appears there will be a party given in our honor by the community tonight. The community leaders have decided to hold it  right upon the very floor we just cleared! Some teenage kids along with a few adults cleaned it off with buckets of water and brooms made from palm leaves while we all bathed. Speaking of bathing, my last bath was the best bath ever! The water was cool, the warm breeze felt fantastic and I finally took my work shorts off for the last time! These shorts became sort of a running gag, as we started on Friday, they were covered with a thick layer of dirt from the ceiling.  So dirty they were that I puffed my chest out and with a smart ass tone declared them the official work shorts of Haiti! Then boldly declaring they shall be worn everyday until we finish our mission! Of course my little quip was merely to gross out our group and yet they women from cell block C would not let me forget that asinine statement.  So following through with my word, the shorts were worn everyday until Thursday at 4:30 when they hit the bathing room floor for the very last time!  Yes they smelled bad, they had changed color and they practically stood up on their own, but success was mine!

7:00pm

Chairs and church pews are being brought out then placed in a semi-circle on the slab.  A boom box has arrived, lights have been strung up and our generator is at full throttle.  People from all over the neighborhood are arriving and we have been asked to be seated.  Once again Charles says some very kind words in regards to our hard work and dedication.  He leads us all in a prayer and blesses the evenings upcoming activities.  Soon we are entrenched in song, laughter and some of the funniest skits! Its like summer camp with musical chairs and impromptu performances! We are all having the time of our lives! The children sing for us, its beautiful, a young woman sings for us and doesn’t miss a beat when the CD stops playing.  Then a well dressed young man holding a guitar stands up to sing a song to our group but instead turns and sings directly to our Anne!  It was hilarious!  Some of us were pretty sure afterwords an arranged Haitian marriage had just taken place and Anne was “gonna have some splaining to do” when she arrived home with the new hubby!  Earlier in the evening this young man mustered up the courage to give Anne a wonderfully written love letter filled with devotion to her very existence! So we just knew through Haitian song they were now husband and wife!

Many games were played including a chug a lug game involving two 20 ounce bottled Cokes, using no hands.  After watching one Haitian lose to another, reflecting upon my beer drinking days I mumbled to Caz, pretty sure I could have won that contest.  Within minutes Caz relayed this apparent proposal to the powers that be and two new Cokes were acquired for a chug off! Now I can’t lie, I was pretty excited, for after watching the speed at which the winner chugged his Coke, it seemed like an easy win for me! Before pondering the ramifications of actually beating this man, Yalaylay strolled by me slowly, then stopped directly in front of me, smiling as he placed his hands around his own neck to indicate the choking sign.  Wait a minute, I thought, is he smack talking me? Is Yalaylay talking Haitian trash? Oh I am going to beat this guy all right, then I am calling out Yalaylay ! But I didn’t have to wait, I never had to face the previous winner, you see Yalaylay was my challenger and yes he was indeed talking Haitian trash to me! The music stopped, Cokes were placed on the chairs, our hands were placed behind our backs while Madame Lulu counted down, 3-2-1 GO!

From what I have been told I gave it a pretty good go, even holding the lead for a bit, but Yalaylay was the village ringer! A bona-fide champion chugger he beat me by a gulp and a half. The place went nuts! People were laughing and hugging, Yalaylay came over, shook my hand then hugged me with the biggest smile! Through Caz I told Yalaylay I would be back next year to beat him! He welcomed the challenge. 

At the end of the night we were all hugging, tears were being shed, last-minute photographs were being taken.  Goodbyes continued for quite sometime and it was truly the hardest moment of our entire trip. Even Cody had his picture taken with some of the other teenagers.  Saying goodbye to some of the most honest, down to earth, hard-working people I had ever met was very difficult indeed.  They have all been handed a horrible situation and yet they survive with strength drawn from their family unit, the church and a belief that all people are good and it can only get better from here. 

Taking a moment to personally thank a few people, I pulled aside Wilson and Jonas telling them what an honor it had been to work alongside them both.  Jonas’ wife came over handing me her baby, then hugging me while kissing both my cheeks. She did this with many of our people, she was incredibly sweet and honest. Cornering Caz in one of the downstairs rooms to thank him for all his hard work with our group, I handed him our department coin.  Explaining to him the only way one of these can be given away is to someone who is selfless, who puts all others first by exemplifying honor and integrity. He was honored by the gift, humbled by the kind words and I think a little embarrassed even though he received the coin in private.  Caz truly is a remarkable man.  We all pray someday he ends up becoming a translator or official government representative for his country.  He loves this country and its people so much, and it shows through his continuing ability to find ways to make life better for its people. I will miss him, I am very proud to call him friend.

We slowly milled our way back upstairs. Taking an opportunity to share our last night together on the balcony, telling jokes, laughing at Annes’ new husbands expense.  We all hope she keeps the love letter for one day when she finds herself in a relationship that is not working out so well she can pull the letter out, remembering there is someone out there who truly does worship the ground she walks upon. If that person is a world away then there must be plenty of suitors here in the states that will do the same.  You are worth it Anne!

Slowly one by one we all trailed off to bed, knowing in the morning it was breakfast then pack up the trucks for the long ride back to the guest house! Sleep would come very easy tonight..

Haiti Mission Trip 2012 part 9: Tear down that wall!!

Wednesday June 13th 2012

Curious; I seem to always start out by describing my sleep pattern from the night before. In hind sight I suppose it helps explain my emotional state during the day’s activities.

Last night there were no excuses for loss of sleep. Exhausted from the day’s sledgehammer work, 800mg of Ibuprofen relaxing me, taking away the swelling in my ankle, a fantastic set of ear plugs and the newly acquired ability to cope with the humidity at night, there truly was no reason for sleep not to come. Well except for maybe waking up to something nibbling upon the open wound atop my ankle. Terrified of what it might be, shocked by the size of the creature as it covered my ankle and part of my foot, I merely shook my foot really hard, grimacing as a large clunk could be heard through my ear plugs when it hit the ground. Closing my eyes then trying to change the scary creature images racing through my mind; I Laid upon my cot praying the surge of adrenaline would pass quickly allowing sleep to come back! My mind spun into overdrive and once again I began planning the take-down of the portico. The dreaded Portico!

The portico and front wall are the only portion of the structure still standing and while everyone moseyed off to sleep I sat on the porch staring at it, playing every conceivable option over and over again in my mind. You see this portico has many “unknowns” associated with its design. How is the solid concrete roof tied into the main wall? How much internal damage has been done to the four remaining columns that support the outer front edge? If we start breaking concrete in one area will the opposite side fail, collapsing and possibly seriously injuring or heaven forbid kill one our people? There have been plenty of responsibilities thrown at me during my short tenure here on this earth, many were handled quickly and decisively, while others took much more thought and a little luck. Of course there were ones I failed miserably at, and though lessons were learned from these failures, I was pretty sure luck and failure were something I wasn’t willing to throw into the mix on this occasion. We were a group of ten with nothing more than sledgehammers, will power and a fantastic work ethic. What I would have given for a Bobcat tractor, or a Cat dozer to simply push over this last towering obstacle.

So there it was my brain in full operating mode, rehashing all the probabilities, calculating weights, gravity, fulcrum, and points of contact. There I lay, spinning like a top with no resolve, no sleep, no rest, just a large unknown waiting to rear its ugly head upon the first light of the morning sun.

Little did I know my current frustration was only just beginning..

We assembled at our regular location, a quick down and dirty safety briefing was given. Heck everyone heard it so many times over the last week it probably didn’t need to be done. But in reality when you become laxidasical about the daily routine is when accidents happen. Then whose fault is it? Oh yeah it’s the guy who didn’t give the safety briefing!

John C and I walked over to the Portico sizing it up one last time. Our plan was simple yet relatively safe. With too many unknowns about how the porch was actually tied into the building our goal was to have it collapse upon itself. Weaken the wall with four solid point of contact, and then weaken the four posts leaving two mini support walls to be knocked aside in the end. This would leave no room for error as the entire thing would come down upon itself, imploding if you will, thereby guaranteeing no one could possibly be in the collapse zone. It wasn’t fool proof but it was as close as one could get with the tools we carried.

Carefully taping both gaps where the roof met the wall then placing tape streamers ¼ inch apart along the seam of tape. This would allow my assigned safety person to tell if the wall was separating from the roof by how many streamers pulled from the cement. Even the slightest movement would be easily visible as a streamer would pop free from the roof. Jan became our safety officer and she was dutifully placed into position with her eyes locked upon the tape. John C and I took our positions to make a series of breaks along the concrete wall. Within seconds of making our first hits a Haitian worker who I had not seen before began marching around stirring up our crew. This bald, shirtless, seemingly angry little man pulled our interpreter aside, directing him towards John and myself. Marcanie came and asked us to please stop, the Haitian crew didn’t feel what we were doing was safe. Once again carefully explaining our plan of attack to Marcanie for relay back to the crew I was met with a bit of disdain. The bald man was once again not happy, moving our crew away from the building and flailing his arms about. My frustration level was rising as again I tried to relay our plan; asking Marcanie to explain the plans measure of success revolves around safety! This was met with more frustration from bald guy who continued to keep the workers back! While taking a sledge from one of them he made several hitting motions on one of the pillars. This was the last place you needed to attack first on this structure and now my ego was starting to take over as my blood began to boil at his apparent ignorance towards the safety of his own people!

Stewing over the current situation something dawned on me. Ego; it was my ego that was getting in the way. These people don’t know me and I don’t know them, there was no hiring process, no specialized training, and no certifications needed to be shown to walk this jobsite. Just my word, our plan, my ego pitted against this mans. There lay the problem? In reality who am I? I am the outsider, the stranger from another land that’s come here to work on THEIR project! This is their church, their community, their family. This is the very last wall of a building that has stood the test of time for 60+ years. If they want to take it down their way, well so be it! If it was my church I am sure I would feel the same way, assuming that is part of this man’s frustration with us. I don’t have to like the outcome, that’s not my job! My job is to make sure everyone on our team is safe first and foremost! Safe they all were, so we gathered up our belongings, then we relayed through Marcanie for them to have at it! Bring down the last wall on their church! Use bald guys’ plan, whatever that may be! We all found ourselves a good seat and I waited with baited breath to see what great plan bald guy had to bring down this last piece of concrete and steel.

Bald guys great plan?

Hit the columns as hard as you can as many times as you can until it falls down! Why the hell didn’t I think of that? Crap I could have just gotten a great night’s sleep if only I had just said screw it! Let’s just hit it until it falls! Safety be damned, throw caution to the wind! Just hit the columns really hard and hope you can jump out of the way in time when it all comes crashing down! And that’s just what they did; Wilson and another man took to hitting it, while jumping out of the way after each strike! It was scary and painful to watch. Every safety centered fiber inside me screaming for them to get out of the way! But they continued, strike after grueling strike until it shook, rumbled and slowly twisted separating from the main wall then partially coming down. The two men jumped out of the way in time and no one was hurt. It took many more precarious strikes to fully collapse the roof sealing its fate. In the end it went off without incident, I wasn’t happy about the situation, but it wasn’t for me to like or dislike. The portico for the most part was on the ground and that is all that mattered. Everyone cheered everyone grabbed tools and we all took to breaking apart the solid concrete roof.

Bald guy continued to lurk around the site for the rest of the day. The Haitian crew acted strangely when he was around and it bothered me. We had become this very cohesive unit and now there seemed to be a small fracture forming. There was another problem brewing. Much of the broken concrete being moved from the foundation floor was being dumped well outside the perimeter set forth by the engineer. This was quite troublesome as I gave him my word we would dump the remnants correctly, saving him time and work later during the foundation portion of the project. Having relayed my concerns numerous times the pile kept growing, expanding and spilling over the lines. Most of us prayed the engineer would see the mass amounts of rubble moved then realize his expectations may have been unreasonable. But my gut said otherwise and one should always go with their gut.

Heather had been worrying me quite a bit for early in the week she took my “stay hydrated speech” quite seriously! Taking in three times the amount of water she needed too during the day; this practice caused her ankles to swell! We quickly named them cankles and though it was all in good fun she spent a better part of the week fighting an ongoing condition. We cut her water in half and had her drinking coffee. When she wasn’t working her ankles were kept up and cool. Some days they shed quite a bit fluid while other days her ankles looked as though they would explode! Through it all she worked like a champ, never complaining but I knew my friend was having trouble and it bothered me.

There was a moment today when through sweat and exhaustion I sat upon a broken piece of concrete. Placing my sledgehammer on the ground, pulling down my sock to rub my very swollen ankle I looked up past the brim of my hat to see Cody still swinging a sledge without falter. He had been going nonstop, breaking one brick after another, working alongside the Haitians without fail. I stared at him through the eyes of a father, for he appeared to be no longer a boy. He stood there not a small child to be protected but a young man with strength and determination. He was becoming a man, and pride filled my chest as tears streamed from my eyes. There were no words to say what needed or didn’t need to be said, just me staring at him crying my eyes out like a little baby. I think it was Heather who asked me if I was ok to which I replied in a smart tone “I got something in my eye” while rubbing my face! She just laughed, and after I explained my emotions it only strengthened what she already knew. I loved my son and was filled with joy.

The engineer stopped by late in the afternoon, he was extremely impressed with the amount of work we had accomplished! He didn’t think we would have the entire building on the ground by Wednesday. Pastor Charles joined us as we walked the grounds going over all we had accomplished. The Engineer pulled from his pocket plans for the new church! It was very exciting to see the artist’s rendering. It gave us all a real sense of purpose. As we walked the perimeter making our way towards the debris pile he noticed it was way beyond where it was to be located. Before we went much further, through Caz we explained that errors had been made during movement of the debris. I also explained that we respected his decisions as he was adamant about correcting the problem. I assured him that we would and asked for an alternate dumping spot as this pile had grown well beyond its means. The front near the street would do so we walked out front and marked off a new zone. These boundaries would not be crossed for I had given my word and with a handshake he was gone.

This left us feeling a wee bit dejected! For most of what we already had moved would have to be moved again. One rock at a time.

The day was done; one 1950’s flat top building was completely on the ground and amazingly we all still liked each other! Jeff Probst hadn’t shown up; so no one was being voted off the island and we were surrounded by a cast of extremely funny and hard working people!

Heather and I had a picture taken of us wearing our SF Giants hats with a sign that stated “Together we are Giant” a slogan from the Giants ballclub. That was great fun!

We met Rosie the Riveter today. Our very own Maggie was swinging away with a sledgehammer when something caught my eye. Her shirt, her bandana tied around her head, could it be I thought to myself, could it possibly be? Asking her to stop in front of the last wall standing, then posing her to emmulate one of my favorite war time bond drive photos with a modern tweak. A picture was taken. Looking to the screen my jaw dropped as we all gazed in amazement. Maggie is our modern day Rosie the Riveter! I have known this woman since she was a small girl; she has the drive of a bull, the tenacity of lion and can outwork most men! Once her mind is set I believe there is nothing this woman will not accomplish in her life. The picture we took that day is the true Maggie we all know and love.

Anne has become wickedly funny! We found that her name drops into just about any situation. As in she is an ANNEimal when it comes to work. Or hey, have you seen her Ray Annes sunglasses? Her humor is dry, delivered on time and quirky. There have been a string of inventions she is looking to patent so look out world for coming to a store near you is bacon floss. That’s right it has been determined that bacon goes with everything so Anne’s Bacon Floss should be hitting the stores soon. But then what do you expect from the preachers daughter?

John C had developed a callus on his hand which he would slowly stroke while pondering. After time he had taken to calling it precious. It was a little creepy yet devilishly humorous at the same time.

Everyone seems to be in high spirits’ still, but as for myself? I am not sure I have another day in me. Between the constant lack of sleep, the heat, my back, my shoulder and the tennis ball sized ankle I am sporting around, my mind is having a harder time overcoming these whiney little obstacles’.

I am also feeling completely separated from my family, especially from my best friend. I can’t wait to see her and tell her how much I love her. This experience has been very fulfilling, extremely emotional and moving beyond words; two more nights to go, three more nights until we are home with our loved ones.

The hardest work is yet to come…..