Tag: kids

Waking up=Suck

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Waking up this morning from a short night of slumber, I sat at the edge of my firehouse bunk slowly orienting myself to time, place and event.

Time: 0600=Sucks!

Place: Still at work not home next to my lovely wife=Sucks!

Event: Daily awakening from crappy slumber after night of running calls= Suck!

As I rolled my eyes around the room, shedding “suck” from the moment, dreams that occupied my brain during the night began flashing forward like bright, stop motion photography.  Some nights they easily dissipate like the mist, while other mornings they linger, playing over and over again like a bad date or a misspoken word during the most inopportune of moments.  Groundhog day…

This morning was different from the others, as I replayed each and every one of my night’s adventures I was reminded of an article that caught my attention sometime back.  The article dealt specifically with dreams and their process; the gist of it stated every morning after a solid night of dreams you should arise and immediately write down the events that occurred. “Hmmm a reporter for your dreams, now there is a job I could handle with ease! The interviews would be tough, for I can be a defensive prick, but I would never let up on myself eventually catching myself with a misspoken word or phrase leading to my cutting edge personality ending up on TMZ!”  In time you will either become enlightened or befuddled, contemplating a good stiff drink (even if you are not the drinking kind). 

A cup of coffee, the morning news and yet I am left wondering about last night’s slumber filled adventures. What do they mean?? What purpose did these dreams serve and why was my subconscious mired in mystery? Dreams were so much simpler when I was younger!

Then like a brick to the side of the head, a thunderbolt across the bow, Edison’s first look into an invention called the light bulb it comes to me.  No Dr. Freud inspired answer, no years of studying psychology in college; I haven’t read a few books at Borders in regards to the human brain, converting me into an armchair hack, nope just a good old-fashioned Ah Ha moment in the making!

We dream in decades…  I know crazy huh!  Think about it though, we dream in decades! My dreams revolve around an approximate ten-year cycle! A certified block of time short of or equal to the amount of storage space left in this super computer known as a brain!

Our brains works like this…

The Frontal lobe handles planning, reasoning, delving into the emotional aspects of my day; minute by minute, then the Parietal lobe moving, orienting, recognizing and stimulating my every thought! The Occipital spends every second of my being visually processing what is happening then leaving the Temporal Lobe to perceive and recognize sounds, memory and speech!   

The brain can only store so much information, so much emotion; the stresses alone should leave your brain requesting a donor! So it only makes sense that when the brain is resting, it’s dying to have a little fun at your expense! A little ME TIME as it where! Helping purge itself of all these crazy thoughts, dreams aspirations, emotions, desires and dreads that flow daily through your waking hours!  Using its abilities for evil, filling your dreams with unattainable goals (Wendy Peffercorn), aspirations (Steve Austin) and disappointments! I still don’t understand why I am not President of the United States!

While delving back into time at decades past it all makes perfect sense! While in my 1-10 phase of life my little brain lived for the simpler things.  When laying my weary little head down to sleep with blankie, I was filling my brain with thoughts of new bicycles, model cars, skateboards, G.I. Joes and Atari game systems!  Nightmares revolved around falling from unknown heights, being chased by dark scary men across deserts, jungles and inner cities!  The scary evil monkey who lived in my closet for the love of God!

10-20 my dreams were filled with cars, tractors, scary U.F.O’s, girls, (U.F.O.’s and girls were equally scary) climbing the highest mountains and awaking naked in a classroom filled with the most popular people in school! (Come on who hasn’t dreamt about being naked in class? You’re a liar if you deny it!).  There was lots of fighting in my dreams back then, nothing was more befuddling than arising to find my room thrashed, sheets soaked in sweat and feeling as though I went three rounds with Rocky Balboa! Yo Adrienne!!

20-30 Endless nights filled with dreams about wealth, expensive cars, drugs, and dying! (It was the eighties after all, could have been a little Magnum PI/Miami Vice thing going on or the constant watching of the period classic “The secret of my success”).  Of course my sleep during this decade was relegated to where and when as working multiple jobs at once early on then moving to a dairy where there are no days off led to round the clock efforts!  Once I started driving truck it only got worse and my dream cycle latched onto the whole dying theme! Usually a grotesque mangled death inside my truck! Yuck! What kind cruel trick is that for my mind to play upon myself!  Sick bastard!!

30-40’s my dreams changed as did life! My income was finally stable, everything revolved around the growth and safety of my children! Slowly evolving, changing me into Marlin the clown fish from Finding Nemo!

No little ones you can’t swim out past the reef it’s too dangerous! You just aren’t ready!!!!

Ahh dad, who cares if I have one little fin instead of two I can do it!

Yeah the kids pretty much hated me during this period! 

Now at 46 I fear being alone; my children are growing so fast and Marlin is slowly releasing his grip around the neck of adventure, allowing the children to explore, challenge themselves, unhampered even by their fathers’ best efforts!

So what does my 50-60’s have in store for my personal dream factory? Will I wake up rubbing my eyes and start pacing in circles screaming “MAKE IT GO AWAY, MAKE IT GO AWAY”!  Or will I be an oasis of relaxation where my brain quietly goes to recharge every night with me awakening next to my lovely bride, smile on my Charlie Brown Face and no fear of the unknown. The darkness that lurks deep inside gone forever!

Now that would not =Suck!

 

To infinity and beyond!!

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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…

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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?

Olympic Bound..

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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

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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…

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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

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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 part 10: Working on a chain gang…

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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 8: Where there’s thunder..

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Tuesday June 12th 2012

Rain moved in last night blanketing our compound on and off for a few hours. The smell of rain along with flashes of lightning was amazing. Haiti must be where the phrase “when it rains it pours” comes from. One minute you can see the stars and the next lightning is flashing thunder is clapping and rain is dumping. Then in the blink of an eye the rain has dissipated leaving you wondering why as the humidity/heat rise rapidly.

The good thing about the rain last night; it silenced the dogs, drowned out the neighbors and basically kept all obnoxious sounds to a minimum. There is something about the pitter-patter of rain on a tin roof that is very satisfying, calming, like a steady white noise allowing you to relax. Within minutes, the sounds of droplets smacking our roof sent my body into a deep relaxed slumber. I awoke feeling rested and ready for the day’s challenges. Rain cleanses all…

After breakfast we all stood along the rail of our second story balcony taking in the sight of our building. Three trusses to go and it’s demolition time! Many of us had been salivating for this moment of pure sledge-hammer bliss. I believe every one of us has the primal urge to destroy things; thanks to a proper upbringing many have never felt that urge. For those of us who have felt that urge there is nothing more rewarding than corralling your pent-up emotions, placing a tool in your hands then bashing the crap out of an inanimate object until it has been obliterated into dust. Some people need a little prodding, a little poke at their psyche allowing them to emerge from their prim and proper shell. Living life by following rules has left them incapable of finding their inner anger, their primal urge to destroy, but put a 10 pound sledge into their hands, place your hand on their shoulder and tell them “its ok, crush the concrete” and before long (usually about 5 minutes) they are sweaty, smiling, and laughing at what they accomplished, both mentally and physically.

That’s the way today went down. Everyone started out timid, focused, but after removing then dismantling the last three trusses it was Hammer Time! Four walls made of cinder block, 10 Americans, 5 Haitian workers and two interpreters all ready knock them down! John C and John G (affectionately nick named Hammer Time) started breaking block over the windows so we could cut re-bar ties. By doing this we could then knock a break line at window height and with ropes in place pull the wall away from the striker slowly bringing the walls down one window section at a time. Taking down walls in this fashion also expedited our clean up time with the blocks being broken up, swept up and moved to a debris pile outside, all from the concrete floor of the building.

We all took turns breaking down walls, smashing fallen portions into bits for transport in wheel barrows. It was all working very well. The Engineer of our project stopped by not long after we started moving debris, he pulled John C and myself aside with Caz our interpreter to discuss where a debris pile should be placed. Apparently we had started dumping in the wrong location and he wished the pile to be 6 feet in the opposite direction. No problem, simple enough to correct, I had Marcanie pull the workers aside and we directed them to the correct dumping location. We marked it out with a tire and nothing further was discussed on the subject of location. This would later bite me in the butt.

The day proceeded well, as we saw immediate results to our hard labor intensive work. There were only two minor fumbles that could have been disastrous and both involved me.

  1. Every morning I would give a short but sweet safety briefing. Things like “keep your head on a swivel” or “Always look up before walking into the building” and of course “have you consumed enough water today” Apparently I didn’t listen to my own advice for as I was studiously working on bringing down a wall from outside while the crew pulled from the inside, I spied a single cinder block teetering from the top of this wall approximately 10-12 feet above my head. Instead of heeding my own advice in regards to safety first. I continued striking the wall while staring at the block thinking; Hmm, I really should knock that down before I go any further. At that very moment the block fell striking my left ankle, leaving me temporarily breathless and focusing very hard at not allowing any profanities loose from my lips. It swelled up instantly to the size of a tennis ball; it also made it very difficult for me to maneuver around the unstable footing outside. I decided I was not going to look at it until after lunch. I could stand on it so it wasn’t broken but it sure did hurt like hell.
  2. After lunch with my foot being out of commission I took it upon myself to go upon the portico to knock down the parapet and main arch. This would alleviate all dangers to unstable falling blocks. While working on the arch I continued taking notice of where people were located below me before each and every strike of the hammer. A large crack began to emerge running the entire baseline of the arch which meant it was coming down in one big piece. As I started hitting it really hard, trying to coax it over I noted the only person close to me was my son Cody and he was smashing concrete over half the distance of the building from my location. No chance for him to get hit with any bricks. As I leaned in and gave the wall the last big push it needed, at that very moment Cody decided to change positions. I couldn’t stop the wall; I couldn’t yell fast enough, all I could do was watch. The 35-40 foot by 4 foot section slammed onto the ground and broke into pieces with each and every one of them sliding by him on either side. It was as if God said; not today son, protecting him from flying debris. Jan screamed and began to cry; Cody just looked behind him, shrugged his shoulders then took back to beating concrete with a sledge-hammer. Like nothing happened. Me, I played the whole incident off, but inside I was sick to my stomach. The image is still in my head a month later.

By the end of the day both main walls were on the ground. The group was sweaty, tired and feeling accomplished. A little rest upstairs and then Paul had arranged for a community meeting where everyone around us could come and ask the Americans anything they wished. A let’s get to know each other if you will.

6:00 pm the locals started showing up. Chairs and benches were set in the courtyard and we tried dispersing ourselves amongst the group. There seemed to be a little stand offish attitude at first. Pastor Charles started things off by welcoming us and explaining to both us and his community, how hard he worked to get us there along with the importance of having our work crew live on the job site promoting friendship and harmony. Individually we introduced ourselves telling of where we lived and what church we belonged too. Some people told of their employment back home, I chose to stay quiet on the subject. It took some prodding from both our people and their pastor but eventually people started asking us questions through our interpreter. Heather was grilled by two female teachers wanting know the requirements to teach in the United States and what qualified her as a teacher. Once the two sides realized their education was very similar there seemed to be an unspoken understanding. Political questions flew about. Everything from how we felt about our current president, the former president Bill Clinton to our stance on gay rights and marriage. At one point a gentlemen stood up and wanted know; why the boy doesn’t speak? As he pointed to Cody most of us at once shouted “he’s shy”! This had been a minor bone of contention with some of the Haitians. Cody was very quiet and with the rest of the party being very outspoken it was noticed quickly. All of that uncertainty in regards to Cody went away after Wednesday that was when one of the Haitian workers named Wilson told me with a huge smile on his face he (Cody) was the boy who worked like a man.

A few questions stood out for me and they stick in my mind today.

  1. How can the American churches help with College education for Haitians? This was a great question for as we continue to help build infrastructure should we not be focusing on education ensuring more for the future of their youth. If we merely feed these people they will only know charity, but if we teach them to feed themselves both physically and mentally wont they eventually teach others and ultimately prosper as a society?
  2. Was it hard to leave our families behind to help people we didn’t know or have a reason to help? They were very pleased to know from each and every one of us that it was hard. That some of us were prepared having spouses that traveled here the year before, while others where mentally dealing with an experience that was not only challenging emotionally but rewarding as well.
  3. What advice could we give the Haitian people in regards to becoming “better” or recognizing better opportunities? All of us had a little different version of the same answer. It went something like this: take ownership in your country, pride hard work and caring for your neighbor. Opportunities will come, but you need to create your own, act on them and succeed. Rebuilding this church is the first step for this community and all of us were proud to be a part of that process.

The evening ended with all of laughing and having a good time. Once again Paul had done an excellent job of putting us out there for all to see. He really was fantastic with placing together the right opportunities at the right time.

Tomorrow we agree to disagree…..

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Haiti Mission 2012 part 7: Raise the roof..

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Monday June 11th, 2012

Last night before going to bed, my 11-year-old called to say hello.  Within seconds there appeared to be tension in our conversation.  When asked about his apparent discontent he slowly started whimpering and within seconds it became a gale force storm of tears.  Jake wanted Cody and I to come home. He cried and through his whimpering, I deciphered he missed us terribly.  I felt helpless, as a father should I suppose; usually when he misses me a short trip to the firehouse will bring quick consolation; returning his normal demeanor. But there was no short trip, no hey buddy I’ll be home tomorrow, instead he is regaled for his bravery being the “man” of the house while his brother and I are away.  After a few moments of pandering to his needs, he calms down.  I miss him, I feel horrible there is no way to comfort him, to hug him and make his fears go away, but slowly he comes around, he pretends to understand.  After a few “I love you’s’ and I’ll be home soon, he giggles slightly when I tell him goodnight. “Goodnight turkey lips” usually works every time and this time was no exception.

The good news? I slept all night! Yep that’s right, soaking sweat, dogs barking, parties next door and all! Nothing a good set of ear plugs (thank you John C) and a few days of mental and physical exhaustion can’t break you down too.  It was fabulous!

Once again we met after another of Madame Lulu’s wonderful meals. Today was a big day for our crew. No more playing around, a full days work lay ahead and there was plenty of work to go around.  After meeting with the crews, discussing the heat index, water intake, our urine output and covering our job site safety bullet points we all set to taking down beams.  The beams ran the length of the building tying the trusses together.  They needed to come down as one piece, all roughly 90-100 feet of them. There were five  beams on each side of the building.  Slowly we started unbolting then cutting away the supports.  With one person per truss holding the beams in place after each was cut away we would slowly slide them down the apex of the truss until they reached the edge, then let them drop to the ground where an awaiting crew would systematically cut the unions and stack them for recycling.

Amazing is a understament when describing the well oiled machine that had become our crew.  Working together, sweating together, accomplishing big goals in a very short period of time.  I know I have said it many times but the human spirit, is an inspiring thing to behold.  By lunch the beams were gone and we were ready for trusses.

truss/trəs/
Noun:
A framework, typically consisting of rafters, posts, and struts, supporting a roof, bridge, or other structure: “roof trusses”.

The trusses were a little trickier. The needed to have all supports tying them together cut. Ropes were then tied to the peak, applying tension from either direction for stability; then with John C on one wall and me on the opposing wall we would simultaneously cut away the ties that attached the trusses to the cinder block wall allowing the rope crews to slowly lower the trusses peak onto the floor.  Once the peak hit the floor another rope was tied to an upright end formerly attached to the wall and with a great big pull the truss would slide diagonally down the cinder block wall until it fell onto the floor.  Once on the floor the crews would make quick work of cutting the truss in half, removing it from the building then stacking it neatly outside for recycling.

By 3pm/15:00 there were all but three trusses left.  It filled us with a great sense of accomplishment.  At the end of the day we gathered our group to thank everyone for working so hard and staying safe.  We had Caz tell the Haitian crew how honored we were  to work alongside them and how we looked forward to another safe productive day on Tuesday.

Today, being our first full day of work I also fully understood why we quit working at 3pm.  The heat! The humidity and heat hits a high around 3.  Its stifling to say the least.  For anyone who is not acclimated to this type of heat feels like a Sahara death sentence to say the least.  After today I never once thought about 3pm being an idiotic time to stop work again.

The kids are back, a soccer game is afoot.  Bubbles continues to be the phrase of choice as Paul once again takes time to play with the smaller children.  Mason is also surrounded after every soccer game.  They are teaching him Haitian-Creole, he is taking notes and trying his very best to understand what they are saying.  The interaction between our two cultures is fantastic.

Everyone worked very hard today. Watching Maggie, Cody, Caz and Marcanie pull on trusses, then tear them apart after they hit the ground was pretty cool.  Jan, Heather and Mason were troopers carrying off all the scrap metal. The entire crew continues to inspire me every minute of every day.  Everyone has a job and even if they have never done anything like the task they have adopted all of them sure look as though they know what they are doing.  They are fantastic human beings, with great spirits inside them.  Once again the day is finished and as I sit in my chair atop the balcony quipping one joke after another with these people I feel as though I am surrounded by family.

Speaking of family I am calling my wife tonight. I miss the sound of her voice more than I can describe.  Its one thing to be away from each other while still communicating every night or even several times a day. Its completely different when you are not able to speak with her for days.  I find myself praying she picks up the phone, and though there is doubt, after all her schedule is very busy tonight; I pray for only a minute or two, just hearing her voice will be all the revival I need to carry on for a few more days.

The phone rings………