NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 11 -- Veteran's Day Tribute

Yesterday was the 234th Anniversary of the U.S. Marine Corps. Fittingly, today is Veteran's Day. I cannot put into words my appreciation for the sacrifices made by all the soldiers who have served and are serving to defend the freedoms that we enjoy.

As I have indicated on this blog before, I love the Band of Brothers mini-series that HBO produced a number of years ago. Not only does it do a great job of telling the story of Easy Company and its journey through D-Day and the end of World War II, but it spends time talking with surviving members of Easy Company. The clip below is the last 7 minutes of the mini-series and talks about what happened to some of the soldiers in Easy Company, including some final comments from the men themselves. They say it best about what it was like to serve. All I can say is "Thank You."

The people that produced Band of Brothers (Tom Hanks, Steven Spielberg, etc.) will be bringing another mini-series to HBO in March 2010 called The Pacific. I look forward to learning more about that part of the war that often gets lost in the shuffle -- if that's possible -- when compared to the drama of the D-Day invasion. Here is a preview of that forthcoming production. NOTE: some violence in this.

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 10 -- My initial reaction to Dave Ramsey

Couldn't have said it better myself.

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 9 -- 20 years ago

Today marks the 20th anniversary of the end of the Berlin Wall. I remember that I was sitting in the cafeteria at Asbury College during my sophomore year when the news broke that the wall was coming down. I've always felt a connection to Germany. My connection initially was to West Germany because I was born there while my Dad was in the army. I remember doing a report on West Germany in 4th grade because of this connection I had. We had a lot of reminders of Germany in the house when I was growing up, including a cuckoo clock with the metal pine-cone weights that helped the clock keep time. One of the first things my mother did when she woke up in the morning was to pull the chains on the clock to reset the weights at the top. That sound announced the start of the day.

As a child of the 70s and 80s, I remember the Cold War. I remember the division between Eastern Europe and Western Europe. That division was epitomized by the wall that divided a city. I remember not understanding why anyone would live in West Berlin when it was "surrounded" by East Germany, starting with East Berlin on the other side of the wall. But if that was where you were from, why leave? It's just as much your city as it is those who live on the east side. And thankfully, those residents never left, because I am sure their presence in West Berlin served as a beacon of sorts to the many easterners who longed for a better existence than the Soviet structure provided.

I saw a story tonight that included an interview with a man who looked to be about 35 or so. He grew up in West Berlin and now lives in what once was East Berlin. He commented that he and his friends growing up thought the fall of the Berlin Wall was an inevitability. That was not my feeling growing up. And I think there were a lot of people older than me who didn't look at it that way.

For about half my life, there was a Berlin Wall, and the other half has seen the reunification of Germany and the fall of the Soviet bloc in Eastern Europe which fell in relatively rapid succession. It truly was an historic time. And an inspiring time because it was a tangible demonstration of the power of ideas. Freedom and democracy won out.

We could debate what caused the Wall to fall, but this doesn't feel like the right time for those discussions. I'd rather thank the German people who clung to their dreams of a unified nation and refused to be silenced forever.

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 8 -- Thoughts from a coaches meeting

Last spring I helped coach a little league baseball team. It was a group of 10-, 11- and 12-year-old kids. I enjoyed it so much that I am helping again this season. You might be thinking, "It's early November; why are you talking about baseball now? The World Series just ended. Didn't the off-season just start?" I could understand your confusion. But alas, tonight I went to a meeting of the coaches in our league in preparation for next spring. The meeting was called by a couple of parents who serve on the park's board. One of the topics raised by the board members was the level of instruction on fundamentals that the players receive. The message was that some parents had raised some concerns that the instruction varied depending on which team their sons happened to be drafted on. In an effort to "help" the coaches, the park is going to pay to send all of us to a coaches' clinic to give us some ideas to help us. I think I heard the phrases "another tool for the tool box" and "sharpen our saws" about 8 times throughout the meeting.

I love watching people attempt to deliver subtle messages and then soft sell the real point because they're afraid of hurting someone's feelings. The real point was that the park thinks that some coaches are not giving their all, and the kids and parents can tell. While the park realizes that we're not paid for any of our time, it's only right that if you volunteer to coach, perhaps you should actually coach.

I see nothing wrong with delivering that message. Personally, I don't get it when I look around at how other coaches are doing things (or not doing things). Why bother? I understand that it can be difficult when your team may not win a lot of games, but there's more to coaching than just winning games. And even if this year's team may not win a lot, the players you have who will come back next year can learn a lot if you take the time. There also are lessons that can be taught beyond the game itself. Hard work. The value of practice. Being a part of a team. The lessons learned through failure. Perseverance. Endurance. The list goes on and on.

The other interesting thing about providing the coaches' clinic is that there are a lot places to find instructional assistance. The first one is Google! You can google baseball practice or baseball instruction and find hundreds of sites with ideas. But you have to want to find the information first. It doesn't take much effort.

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 7 -- 36 hours at the lake

I took K-Man with me to the lake Friday afternoon. Boys weekend. We stopped by Ingles on the way for some supplies: Kraft Mac & Cheese, hot dogs, "orange chips" (i.e., nacho cheese Doritos), Cheez-its crackers (Scrabble edition -- so we're working on the alphabet and enjoying that cheesy greatness), bananas, bagels and donuts. I also picked up a surprise for him (like the above was not awesome enough, right?)!

After we got our rations, we proceeded to the lake house and made dinner: Mac & Cheese, orange chips and half a banana. I went with a couple hot dogs, and a glass of wine. (If you're interested, I found the Bogle Merlot went well with the Hebrew National dogs.) After dinner, we played with trains, cars, and trucks, and watched a little Toy Story 2. Then off to bed. No bath. We weren't trying to impress anyone.

The morning started with some coffee -- for me, not him. He had milk. And of course, donuts. K-Man picked up where he left off the night before with the trains, cars, trucks and Toy Story 2. And he stayed in his pajamas. I asked a couple of times if he wanted to put on some clothes and go outside to play. He declined. He loves wearing his pajamas. After a few hours, he tried to convince me that he should go sans pajama bottoms, but I put my foot down. We can be total slobs on boys weekend, but we'll be wearing pants. The kid'll never find a wife if he thinks pants are optional. No need to feed that monster.

Lunch was PBJ and a banana. Then, I offered him a choice: orange chips or a surprise. The kid didn't hesitate. "Surprise" was his cry, eyes dancing. So I told him to close his eyes. He buried his face in his hands. I set up the surprise on the table in front of him and told him to open his eyes. There it was. He hesitated. Smiled. "That's Woody," he said (from Toy Story). Then, he moved Woody's head back to reveal the strawberry pellet of goodness! Oh yes, a Woody PEZ dispenser. He was familiar with PEZ before this, so it took him all of about 10 minutes to finish the sleeve of candy in Woody's ... neck, I guess. He did give me one piece.

We spent the afternoon playing cars, racing trains, tickling, wrestling, and swapping out Toy Story 2 for Ratatouille. We snacked on a few Cheez-its to tie us over until dinner along the way.

He got a bath before dinner, so he was fresh and ready for bed early. He had another bowl of mac & cheese, some orange chips and a glass of water. More trains, cars, trucks, and wrestling.

Before bed, we've been reading out of this great book that Jen found with Bible stories. The first one is about "little" Zaccheus. We've read it so much, Kee knows the story by heart. I asked him to read it to me. There is nothing cuter than a 3-year-old reading a Bible story -- with enthusiasm. It is also a little spooky to watch him do it, because he says the exact words on the right pages, turning page after page as he goes. He does the same thing with his Curious George book too.

It's been a good weekend together. We've just hung out and done nothing, but we've done a lot too. Hopefully, it's a small deposit in a lifelong account that will return with interest!

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 6 -- Who says soccer's not a contact sport?

Many of you have probably seen the video clip of the Mountain West Conference women's semi-finals soccer match between New Mexico and BYU. A New Mexico defender takes physical play to a completely new level. You want your central defenders to be tough and to play a physical brand of soccer. And I can sympathize with the New Mexico player as this back and forth starts. She is marking a BYU forward who gives her an elbow in the chest. This obviously does not sit well with the defender. Her mistake is that she rares back and punches the forward in the top of her back. The situation clearly calls for a forearm in the lower back -- a strike that says "I won't be pushed around by you BYU forward." Message delivered. But no, rather than standing up to the opponent and moving on, the punch to the back is just the appetizer of a 10-course meal of violence. No white table cloths at this affair either. This is like a torch-lit Viking buffet of slabs of meat -- killed and skinned table-side -- and casks of ale. Not exactly fine dining.

For those of you who haven't seen the video of Thursday's match yet or those who can't see it enough times, here it is again:

I was asked today if I ever had my hair pulled like that in a match. I had hair that long in the late-80s, but I never pulled it back in a pony tail. The mullet was sufficient. But no one ever pulled the mullet. (Why would they? At 5'8" no one ever mistook me for Samson.) Plenty of elbows in the sides and back throughout my play in high school and college. I can identify with the emotion that this New Mexico player obviously felt the other day. Not justifying anything she did, but the game gets heated if you care at all about your performance and your team's performance. Emotions can get the best of you from time to time. One particular instance comes to mind when I was a sophomore in college. We were playing our homecoming match. I was playing in the midfield on the wing. An opposing midfielder knocked me down as we were fighting for a ball by the sideline. Then, he stood over me and/or said something unkind. As fast as my shoulder blades hit the ground, I popped back up. In one motion, I stood up and shoved him in the chest knocking him on his back and stood over him. My Old Testament approach got me a yellow card. (The stereotype that the Irish have short fuses is probably based on thousands of similar incidents in towns on both sides of the Atlantic. At least mine didn't take place in a bar in Dublin or South Boston!)

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 5 -- Our mailman

I work out of the house, and my office currently is at the front of the house. There is a park across the street, so I get to watch our neighbors walk their dogs. I saw a coyote on a cold morning in February -- probably the one that ended the existence of our former cat.

But one of the things that has stood out to me all year is the timing of our mailman. As most of you know, during a week absent a federal holiday, the mail is delivered 6 days per week. Five of the six days the mail comes no earlier than 5:00 p.m. On the sixth day, the mailman drops off the mail around 2:00 p.m. When mail is delivered, one would probably assume that the sixth day of mail might be Saturday. You'd be wrong. Ironically (perhaps in the Alanis Morrisette sense of irony), the sixth day is not Saturday. In fact, it's not any one day. It's one of three days -- but not the same day each week. For some reason -- that I have yet to determine -- on either Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday, the mailman delivers the mail earlier than every other day of the week. But never the same day each week. Why? Is he just bored with the usual route, so he mixes it up once a week but never the same day to take the "mixing it up" to the next level?

I like nothing more than my routine. When routines go awry, chaos ensues. Chaos is bad -- except in theoretical physics courses and summer camp games! The variable rate mail delivery schedule upsets my routine. It means that there is no routine for three days a week or that there are 2 days each week when there is an unnecessary routine. More importantly, why do I care?

I just saw a hilarious scene in the HBO show "Curb Your Enthusiasm." Larry David, the star of the show, is visiting the cemetery site where his mother is buried. His father is with him to show him the new tombstone he bought for his former wife. After he reads the tombstone, Larry notices that the inscription reads "Born - Sept 18, 1920" and "Past Away Oct 21, 2001." Larry proceeds to chastise his father for misspelling the tombstone by using "past" instead of "passed." The punch line isn't that it was a mistake the widower failed to catch, but rather that it was cheaper to go with "past" over "passed" because the cost was $50 per letter. He saved $100 using the shorter word, and most people think it means the same thing anyway. To me, that's funny. (Now you have a little insight into my personality. Feel free to block my number if you must.)