Wednesday, December 25, 2013

A Very Different Christmas Card

I remember as 2013 began, I was running early one morning, and I saw one of those church signs, and it said, “Does it get any better than this?” I thought to myself, how could it? We had just celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary in December, our four children were doing great, I loved my job at WIKA , I was enjoying teaching so much at Georgia Gwinnett College, we loved our church, how could life get much better than this? That run seems so long ago, so distant in my memory. While life couldn’t get much better, it could get a whole lot worse.

It all started in the January/February timeframe, we found out that one of our dogs, Minnie, had cancer after pouring lots and lots of money into diagnoses. She had very little time to live, and we finally had to humanely put her down in early March. While Minnie was “just a dog”, she was a part of our family, and it was difficult to see her short and happy life end too soon.

In April, Laurel’s Mom finally succumbed after many years of battling various ailments. Laurel had tried to
make a last visit to say goodbye to her Mom late in 2012, but Hurricane Sandy prevented that trip. We had been trying to plan a trip for her to get up for a visit early in 2013, but life didn’t cooperate.

In June, my Dad ended his long battle with cancer. I’ve watched others battle cancer, Laurel lost both of her sisters several years ago to cancer, and if you haven’t seen it up close and personal, it is a bitter and ugly battle to watch. Cancer can be devastating, and just sucks the life out of the best people.

While these losses were very devastating, they pale in comparison to the “rest of the story” as Paul Harvey would say. In the midst of all of this, we faced some of the greatest nightmares any parent can ever encounter.

In January, we started getting some distressing calls from Patrick from Grove City College. Just a few weeks earlier, he had seemed very happy, but that had changed dramatically. As the weeks went by, he was plummeting. Each conversation was getting deeper and deeper into depression. I finally told him, if he wanted to come home, just come home. He then said the words that no parent ever wants to hear. He said, “you won’t be disappointed in me?” If there’s one thing in life I’ve learned as a parent, don’t ever tell your children or lead them to believe you are ever disappointed in them. I told him no, I could never be disappointed in him.
Unfortunately, he didn’t come home soon enough, and we got a call from the counselor on campus that Patrick was planning to commit suicide, and he wanted to admit him to a local psychiatric hospital. This was our first experience with a psychiatric hospital, and we learned a lot, particularly patience. Imagine yourself as a parent, and your child is five or six states away, and he/she is in a psychiatric hospital that you’ve never seen, and you can only talk to him or her once a day? It brings to mind the line from Gordon Lightfoot’s haunting song “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” that goes, “where does the love of God go when the waves turn the minutes to hours?” We patiently would wait for that time each evening, when we would get 10-15 minutes on the phone with Patrick, and try to decipher what the hell was going on. As soon as we were able, Laurel and Kelly got a flight up to Pennsylvania to see Patrick in the hospital, which gave us a whole lot of comfort. We were eventually able to secure Patrick’s release from the psychiatric hospital, and we were able to bring him home.

One of the most painful parts of all of this was withdrawing Patrick from Grove City. When we got Patrick released from the psychiatric hospital, we also packed all of his stuff up from his dorm. For the first two years, Patrick loved Grove City. Then as he descended deeper and deeper, many of the people at Grove City rejected him. While we thought Grove City was a loving, Christian community, we found out that the Christian love only flowed to those who walked like them, talked like them and looked like them. I will say that packing up his dorm room was one of the most painful separations I’ve witnessed in my life.

When we brought Patrick home, we had some significant adjustments to make. We hid all of the knives in the house, or anything else that we believed he could hurt himself with. Laurel spent many nights sleeping in the spare bed in Patrick’s room to make sure that he didn’t hurt himself. But the pain for all of us was just beginning. Shortly after Patrick came home, Patrick revealed the one night at dinner what had led him to want to commit suicide. While it is only fair to Patrick to leave this piece of the story to him to reveal someday, it is safe to say that it is one of a parent’s deepest fears and nightmares. The fact that it also impacted Sean made the impact that much deeper.

I have to admit that when I heard what had happened, I had no reaction. No anger, no tears, no nothing. I was stone cold in my emotions, I was completely numb. It wasn’t for about another week or so, as I was driving down the road, and all of a sudden, the damn burst. The tears, the anger, the hate burst forward, I flooded with emotions, and couldn’t control them. I hated myself, I felt like a miserable failure as a father, God had given me children to love and protect, and I had failed Him miserably. I desperately wanted to hurt or kill the person who had brought this devastation down on my sons, but I knew that wasn’t the solution.

My morning runs progressed through my emotions, as I worked through the pain and the anger. Initially, my prayers would be “please get the devil off my back, dear God, don’t let me do anything stupid.” I’d work my way to “please heal Patrick dear Lord, please heal him.” I’d eventually work up to “please heal Patrick dear Lord on your time, please heal him on your time.” I never worked up to the ultimate prayer, “Thy will be done, Lord, thy will be done.” That is always the most difficult prayer, and I just couldn’t bring myself to that prayer.

While I wish I could say that when Patrick came home, everything worked out happily ever after, and we all went back to normal, it wasn’t that simple. Patrick eventually went back into a local psychiatric hospital. It was a disaster, the hospital was awful, and to a certain extent, that may have been a turning point for all of us. Eventually, Patrick progressed, he climbed out of the depths, through various counselors and medication, he emerged from the depths of Hell. He was able to go back to school this fall, to Oglethorpe University. While Patrick’s healing isn’t complete, he has progressed far beyond our hopes and expectations. He is in love, but unfortunately the young lady just went back home to Spain, so he is heartbroken.  That is the type of crisis we can more readily deal with.

Through all of this, we’ve also had to deal with similar, but different, issues with Sean. While I would never demean what Sean has been through, it has not been quite as dramatic as Patrick’s journey. Still, it’s been difficult. I remember one point, just a few months ago, when Sean sent me a long and torrid e-mail that said at one point, “I don’t think you know what the Hell you’re doing as a father, you aren’t handling this situation very well.” And you know, he was right, and I told him he was right, I had no idea what the Hell I was doing. I never imagined facing this type of challenge, and in so many ways, I was failing miserably.  Sean and I had some rough patches, I was overwhelmed with all that was going on, and sometimes, I just couldn't give Sean what he needed.  Thankfully, he has been able to forgive me for my shortcomings.

As difficult and as bad as this year was, the amazing thing is that it’s brought me even closer to God. My morning runs gave me time to pray, to reflect, to cry, to beg God for answers to why this has happened to us. I still don’t know why, but I do believe God has a greater purpose for all of us. This all happened for a reason, and someday, we’ll understand why.

We also benefited from so many amazing people who helped us through it all. Our family, especially our daughters Megan and Kelly, have stepped up tremendously. Our church, our pastors, our small groups, there were so many people who carried the burden for us when the burden was too great. One of our pastors, Allen Hoskyn, has been a God-send, he has been there always, he’s been there when no one else would ever be there. The men in my small groups, both here and in Dayton, the couples in Laurel and my small group, have supported us tremendously, praying with us, crying with us, supporting us through the deepest levels. Our friends have been there through it all, and my employer, WIKA, has been incredible, giving me the time and space I’ve needed to work through this. The blessings we’ve received through all of this have given us the strength to persevere, to make it through each day. And there were days when I had no idea how we would get through another day, but somehow we did. And we will continue to make it through another day.

Unfortunately, this whole experience has taken Patrick, and maybe Sean, further away from God, or at least mainstream Christianity. The person who wronged us is a self-proclaimed good Christian, broadcasts it regularly on Facebook. Grove City College is a Christian college, proclaiming “Grove City College is a Christian College where you’re free to exercise your faith in an atmosphere of fellowship and friendship. The result is a campus life animated by faith.” I wish I had taught my sons what Matthew had said “Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves.” The more people or institutions have to tell you what good Christians they are, the more you should be suspicious.

So the year is coming to a close, and it couldn’t come too soon. Will 2014 be any better? While I’d never wish this year on anyone else, or wish to go through another one like it again, I am thankful for all of the blessings we did receive through it all. So many people have given us the gift of compassion and love through the pain. And while it is often difficult to see God’s presence in the midst of suffering, God is never absent, He has always been there, supporting us, especially when the pain became seemingly unbearable. So as the year closes, Merry Christmas, I hope this holiday season brings you great joy. And thank you, thank you all for what you have done to carry us through this year. We couldn’t have done it without all of you.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Caught in the Middle - I Think I'm Switzerland!

I guess I’m not surprised, through eternity religion has been at the forefront of conflict. Wars, conquests, terrorism have all been waged in the name of religion. Divisions have been created, lines have been drawn to separate the chosen from the un-chosen. If there is one thing we can all agree on it’s that my religion supersedes your religion. Or vice-versa.

While we have the never-ending conflict among the various world religions, it’s just as bad within the confines of the “Christian” religions. Presbyterians can’t agree with Baptists can’t agree with Lutherans can’t agree with Methodists. And Lord knows, none of us could ever agree with the Catholics!

I recently read that there are over 33,000 denominations of Christianity in the world and most of them came through a split. There are more than 100 varieties of Baptist Churches, and there is even the Church of God, True Church of God and the Only True Church of God. The story goes, if you don’t get along with your current church, move to a new one, or better yet, form your own, so you don’t have to worry about getting along with those whose beliefs differ from your own.

So if at such a high level, we all can’t agree, why should my little microcosm of life be any different? I’ve gone from northern, liberal Presbyterian church life to southern, conservative Methodist church life over the past several years. While I love and embrace my brothers and sisters from both spectrums of the country and denominations, I have to say in so many ways, I feel like Switzerland, I feel like I’m in the middle and don’t always feel comfortable in either pew.

On one hand, those who are of more the conservative ilk will condemn me to Hell if I don’t believe and think the way that they do. On the other hand, those of the liberal persuasion will roll their eyes at me and find my simplistic view of religion to be less than cerebral. I guess I’d prefer to have people roll their eyes at me than to burn in Hell forever, but neither is desirable. OK, no doubt, I’m exaggerating a bit here, maybe even more than a bit, but at times, this is the way it feels. So rather than say what I don’t believe or what I don’t agree with on either side of the pew, I decided to write, or re-write, what I believe.

In no particular order:

• I believe in Jesus Christ, I believe He is our risen savior

• I believe in Heaven and Hell, and I believe that the only way to Heaven is through the Grace of Jesus Christ. While I know that universalists believe that everyone goes to Heaven, I really don’t see any way to Heaven other than through accepting Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior.

• Having said that, I don’t believe Muslim’s, Hindu’s or anyone else are the enemy, I believe we all need to learn how to exist together and respect each other’s beliefs. If there is an “enemy”, I believe the enemy lies within, it is lukewarm Christianity.

• I believe in the Bible, I believe it is the living word of God, written by man, God-breathed. I am by no means an expert on the Bible, but it amazes me each time I read certain parts of the Bible how it speaks to me completely differently than it did before.

• I believe Jesus did perform miracles, I don’t believe they were just parables told by the disciples. I would just find it hard to believe that these guys would subject themselves to persecution and ultimately painful deaths for a guy that they just made up stories of miracles about.

• I believe Creationism is as plausible or more plausible than any other theories of creation. I know there is a lot of support for evolution, and maybe it is the way everything evolved, but I still believe, somehow, God was at the core or source of it all.

• I support and respect the rights of the gay and lesbian community. I don’t believe they are all going to Hell. Quite frankly, I have no idea who is going to Hell and who isn’t, but if I break 6-10 of the 10 Commandments daily, and I don’t believe I’m going to Hell, how can I believe someone who is homosexual is going to Hell?

• I believe that God sends us messages every day, probably continually, but we could have burning bushes ablaze all around us, and we would be too busy, calling, texting, tweeting, messaging to hear or see them.

• I believe in the separation of church and state. I know some believe we should have the 10 commandments on our courthouse, and prayer in the schools, but I think the more critical question would be do we know the 10 commandments, do we follow the 10 commandments, do we pray, do we pray with our children and teach them how to pray?

• I also believe the separation of church and state goes both ways. I don’t want politics to invade the church, the pulpit, Sunday schools or small groups. If we’re serious about this separation, it goes both ways.

Of course, I could be wrong, I could be incredibly wrong, and I’m sure in many ways, I am. I will never know, we will never know until we graduate from this world and move on to the kingdom of God. I accept that I may be wrong, and I accept that you may be right. I’m OK with that. The beauty of it all is that it all comes down to faith, and there is no clear truth to any of this, and as our faith evolves, some of our beliefs evolve with it. So as we meet on our journey of faith through our lives, I commit to you that I won’t doom you to Hell, and I commit that I won’t roll my eyes at you. Even if you are a member of the Only True Church of God.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Why I Teach

Four years ago, I received the opportunity to begin teaching at Georgia Gwinnett College. I had been looking for opportunities to teach for a few years, and I thought it would never happen, but out of the blue, I got an e-mail from the Associate Dean at GGC asking me if I wanted to teach. I jumped at the chance, it was a dream come true.

I’ll admit, at first, it was a much bigger struggle than I had anticipated. I’ve always had a great admiration for teachers, but now that admiration is even higher, what they do day in and day out is amazing. I had taught courses before, but always to professionals, who had some idea of the topic. Now I was teaching accounting, basically a foreign language, to students just trying to understand business. The hours I have had to spend have been tremendous, reviewing the topics each week, and trying to figure out how to paint a picture that is understandable for someone who has no earthly idea of what the heck a debit or credit is and what that matters anyway.

My approach is to try to educate more than evaluate. As I tell each class, I assume everyone is an A student, you have to prove me wrong. My main goal or focus is to educate them, not just about accounting, but about business and some of the great things, and maybe not so great things, that happen in business. I tell stories, lots of stories, because seriously, accounting is not that interesting. It is vital, it’s important to run a business, but it’s just not that exciting. I try to make the class as fun and interesting as possible, but I’m sure my students would tell you, I fail in many cases. But, just like them, I’m a work in process, so that’s OK, I need to keep working at it until I find a solution.

OK, so the questions come every semester from students, why do you teach? Great question! I’m the Chief Financial Officer at WIKA Instrument, and I definitely have plenty to do, plenty of responsibility, and to be quite honest, I make plenty of money if there is such a thing. So, why do I teach? It probably comes down to the following reasons:

It's Not the Money! – That should be the first caveat I guess. The money is far from great, and I’m not complaining and I don’t blame GGC. In fact, last year, when they were going through some budget issues, I told them if they needed to or wanted to cut my pay, I had no problem with that. Practically, they probably can’t do that due to rules in place, but money isn’t the issue. I spend a great deal of time tutoring, which I don’t get paid for, because I love to tutor. My belief is that students who come to tutoring really want to learn, so that is where I get the greatest amount of enjoyment or fun. Don’t get me wrong, the extra money is nice, but that is far from the reason why I do this.

It Makes Me Better at My "Real" Job – Over the last few years, as I’ve taught, and learned how to teach, I’ve had a huge benefit from this at my job at WIKA. I’ve had many people tell me that my presentations at work are much better than they’ve been before. It’s really quite simple. At college, I’m trying to explain accounting and business topics to students who in many cases, have never had any experience in business. I have to push myself to figure out how to help them understand these topics. If I can figure out how to help them understand business topics, when they haven’t ever seen them before, how much easier would it be for me to explain these same type of topics to people who have at least some understanding of business? It has made a huge difference.

My Students are Incredible in so Many Ways – Many years ago, I golfed on weekends. Then our twin sons, Patrick and Sean, were born, and my wife Laurel said, “you can either work less or quit golfing”. I quit golfing of course (by the way, Laurel loves that story, so I tell it often). I remember when I did golf, I really wasn’t very good, but each round, I’d have at least a few shots that made me think I could get really good at this, and it would bring me back each week, remembering that one shot that you put within a few feet of the pin, or that one drive that was perfectly placed in the fairway.

Every class is different. Every class has its own personality. Every class presents its own set of challenges for how to teach them. No class is the same, no semester is the same. I’ll be clear, I’ve had some classes that were very frustrating. I’ve had some that were incredibly hard working and did great. I’ve had some that were mediocre academically, but I loved them for their personality. Every semester is exciting for what each class brings. I get so much enjoyment from each class, they energize me, they challenge me to be better at what I do, they are fun to be around.

Each semester, it’s always interesting to watch how the class develops. I’ve had some unbelievable students, who push the limits, come close or even get perfect scores on tests. It’s so much fun to get to grading tests, when you are seeing if some of those students will reach that pinnacle, a perfect score. I’ve also had some that really struggled with the course material, accounting isn’t for everyone, but they persevere through. Through hard work, through a great deal of struggles, they push themselves to attain a C or even a B, even though accounting isn’t a discipline that they understand that well.

I’m really not sure which of these students excites me more. I love the really smart ones, who push themselves to get perfect scores, to attain the highest levels. I also love the ones who don’t understand accounting, but are willing to do whatever they can to understand it as best they can, enough, to at least get a passing grade. I had one student once, who through tears, said to me, “I’m really not stupid.” And she wasn’t, but accounting was a completely foreign language to her. She worked her butt off, and yes, she passed with a C.

My Students Make Me a Better Person – I remember a sermon once when our minister talked about two young people who had been in psychiatric hospitals that he was working with. His main point was that these two students did so much for him, provided so much inspiration to him, he wasn’t really sure what he did for them, but they did so much for him. That is basically how I feel about my students. I’m really not sure what I do for them, but I know what they do for me. They challenge me to be a better person. They continually push me to be better as a teacher, and as a person.

I’ve always wanted to do great things, mainly for God, but also for my community. I finally figured out or heard from God when I was finally really listening, I will never do great things. But, as Mother Teresa once said, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” My hope is that I am reaching some of my students, even if it’s just one, or a handful, I hope I’m reaching them and helping them grow in their lives and their careers.

It’s easy as an old person, like me, to look down on the “younger generation”, but we have so much that we can learn from them. Each day, I learn something. I learn about how to teach better. I learn how to treat people better. I learn about the struggles that young people are going through today. I learn about me, and how I can be a better me. Each semester, I hope and pray they ask me back, they give me the opportunity to teach again, to be around this great group of students again. I love the surprise each semester brings, the excitement of a new class, the thrill of a new group of personalities.

So why do I teach? Just like with so many things in life, you set out to do something for others, and eventually you find, the one who gets the greatest benefit, is you.

The Journey


Last month, I set out to run my one (and only) half marathon. I had set that goal earlier in the year, but life got in the way, and I had to postpone it. So I reset the goal, and set my sights on the Myrtle Beach Marathon in October. As the time got near, I increased my distances, getting myself ready for the longest and most difficult race I would ever attempt. To this point, I’ve done many 5k’s, but never even a 10k. This would be a challenge for me, not just the distance, but to be frank, I’m just not a great runner, I’m a plodder, I definitely don’t look like a gazelle or anything close to that running down the road, more like a plow horse or basset hound.

I picked the Myrtle Beach Marathon because my Mom lives there, and I also love the beach. The sales pitch they use for this marathon is that the last several miles are run on beachfront, which really appealed to me. The day before the race, I did my usual preparation, ran a short run with Laurel, trying to maintain my usual preparation. Two things struck me as I ran that day that gave me pause for concern. One, and the most obvious that I had thought about already, was the humidity level, and how much it drained me. Two, I realized that the race was taking place the day of my parent’s anniversary (that's them pictured above), and having just lost my Dad in June, it was an emotional time for me.

As the day arrived, I felt that I was ready, I was nervous, but ready. The weather wasn’t kind, it wasn’t supposed to rain, but it was pouring that morning as we drove down to the starting point for the race. It did eventually clear up right around the start of the race, but by then I was soaked. Still, I was pumped, it was my first half marathon, and I started setting my sights on finishing in under 10 minutes per mile. Now I know for most of the world, that isn’t a lofty goal, but for me, it was. And that may have been where it all began to unravel. As the race began, I got caught up in the “mob mentality” as Laurel calls it, and I went out too fast, at least too fast for me. I saw people with T-shirts with a verse from Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” I was smiling, laughing, giving thumbs up to these people, saying, “I love your shirt”, I was living large!

I began to write this blog post in my head as I went along. I was going to talk about running in memory of my Dad, and for my Mom, and how meaningful it was for me to run on their anniversary. I was going to write about my inspirations for this run, inspirations from my present and my past. From my present, Dagmar Deamer, in particular, has inspired me for her dedication and drive to run, along with her running partners Sandra Rai and Cheryl Thornton. Plus Jon Clifford has helped me a great deal along the way with advice and inspiration. I thought about some of my former colleagues from Barco, Tracy Titcombe, Bob Clodfelter and Jim Cox. They used to get me out running at lunch time when we worked together in Xenia, and I’ve been watching Tracy and Bob on Facebook with great admiration as they have been running marathons. I was going to write about my niece Emily, who runs marathons, runs double marathons, is just such an incredible runner and has inspired me. I was going to write this grand and glorious blog post.

And then, the wheels came off completely. I tried so hard afterward to figure out what went wrong, there are so many possibilities, but things went horribly wrong. Things were going really well through about mile marker 9, I was slightly behind my 10 minute mile pace, and somewhere between miles 9 and 10, I lost everything completely. My lower back seized up completely, which had never happened to me before running, and I couldn’t bend over at all. I could barely run, I couldn’t really walk that well, and I had over three miles left to go. I know runners can understand this, but do you have any idea the overwhelming feeling you have when you know you have over three miles left to go, and there is nothing left in you? I kept running it through my mind, what went wrong? I’ve run longer distances, I’ve made it, not easily, but I’ve made it without feeling anywhere nearly this badly. My back was shot, I couldn’t bend over, my legs were spent, my brain wouldn’t work, and I had over three miles left to go!

OK, so I did make it, that’s about all I could say for it, I did make it. I somehow, agonizingly, crossed the finish line, and quickly started looking for Laurel to help me. When she came up to me, and I turned and looked at her, I could see from the look of horror on her face how badly I looked. She immediately said, “We have to get you to a medical tent.” I refused and asked her to just help me walk out of there, I was so stiff, I could only walk completely upright, I was afraid I was going to fall over backward.

Physically, I recovered fairly quickly. Mentally and emotionally, it took quite a bit longer. I searched and searched trying to figure out went wrong. I changed my shoes for the race because my Brooks had died the week before, so I went with my Asics, and I had never run long distances with my Asics. As noted, it poured in the beginning, so I was cold and tight to start. I got caught up in the “mob mentality” and went out too fast. I was going for a goal of 10 minute miles, when I probably should have set a goal of finishing. It was a completely flat course, which I’m not used to, I usually run hills. All of this simply didn’t matter, the bottom line, the cold reality, I failed. I let all of the people down that had given me inspiration, I had so much to thank them for, and I failed.

As I drowned myself in my self pity for the rest of the day, as we drove back from Myrtle Beach to Georgia, it took Laurel to remind me of who I am and what I believe. That brings me to the picture and the saying below. Dave Carr inspired me yet again, and I created a notecard to send to people for special occasions. While it may be self-evident, it is something I believe in, the journey is as important and as much fun as the destination in many cases. I used a picture of Snickers riding in the car, because Snickers just loves the journey, if dogs could smile, he would be smiling (I really think he is). She said to me, “I guess you don’t follow what you tell other people. Was the most important thing how you finished in the race or everything you did leading up to the race and the fact that you ran the race and you did finish?” And of course, she was right, she always is.

And I thought about my Dad then. When he died, my brother Jim talked about how my Dad was our biggest cheerleader. I thought back to times when I would look at a situation and believe I had failed, and he could come up with a different view, a different slant, of why I had done so well. It wasn’t just me, it wasn’t just Jim, it was his grandchildren, it was anyone. He could find a reason to cheer you on when you felt like you had no business having someone cheer for you. So yes, I could hear my Dad saying, “Wow, that was great what you did, you finished a half marathon!” He wouldn’t ask about the time, did you run the whole way, were turtles on the beach passing you to the finish line, he would just be impressed at what you accomplished and that you were in the game, giving it your best.

Well, that was supposed to be my first and last half marathon. But there’s no way I’m letting it end this way. I have started training for my next half marathon, I have to redeem myself for that one. And I’m going back to the one that beat me, it’s not the same one, or the same course, but it’s back to Myrtle Beach, I have to beat this one. February 2014, Myrtle Beach is the destination. The journey begins, and it will be just as important, and just as much fun, as the destination. Game on.

Monday, September 23, 2013

It All Began With Dennis Ribant

After 20 years of futility, the Pirates have finally broken through, and they will finally have a winning season. Seriously, think about that for a moment. No professional team has had this amount of futility, and really shouldn’t considering that with any amount of luck, you should have a winning season at least once a decade. For most people, when you bring up the Pittsburgh Pirates the immediate thought is 20 years of losing. Incompetent ownership for many years. Small market, low budget. Sid Bream sliding across home plate beginning that 20 years of losing. Many, many unbelievably bad teams, really bad players, stupid trades, awful baseball. My daughter Kelly blames her brothers, Patrick and Sean, who were born about a month after the Sid Bream slide. She says that the Pirates haven’t won since they were born, so it must be their fault. I guess we really can’t blame them. No, we can’t blame them.


Through it all, I still can’t figure out why, I follow them religiously, watch every night on my computer to see, are they winning? Even those years of 90+ and 100 losses, I was watching, would they win? Could they get it done tonight? My family laughed at me, for good reason I guess, but I still religiously followed them. But why ….

I remember my first baseball game, it was in 1967, and it was one of those give-away days, I got a baseball. Now, back in 1967, a baseball was a big deal. I remember I never took it out of the house for weeks because it was so special, but eventually, I did succumb, and played with it, ruined it, and I’m sure, eventually lost it. But, give me a break, I was seven years old. But of course, as usual, I digress.

My first game was at Forbes Field, my mother and our neighbor Sandy Smith took me, we had seats somewhere behind home plate, not right behind, but about the second level, I think back then they were called loge boxes. Dennis Ribant started for the Pirates against the Cincinnati Reds, and he took a 1-0 lead into late in the game. In the 7th or 8th, can’t remember exactly, Vada Pinson hit a triple and Tony Perez singled him home to tie the game.

Then, in the bottom of the ninth, Willie Stargell hit a home run on the roof of Forbes Field, one of only a handful of times that has happened, most of which were by Willie Stargell. He had incredible power, he used to swing sledge hammers in the on deck circle. I wish I could say that I saw the home run clear the roof, but being seven, as everyone stood to cheer the home run leaving the park, all I saw was a bunch of people in front of me cheering and yelling. But, I was sold, I was a Pirate fan for life.

You’re probably thinking to yourself at the moment, how in the world does anyone remember this stuff, and I’m sure my wife would be thinking, how can he not remember our anniversary, but he can remember Dennis Ribant, Vada Pinson and Tony Perez, but yes, again, I digress.

To be honest, my baseball watching really started much earlier. I was born in August 1960, and the Pirates were in the World Series that year with the New York Yankees. That was one of, if not the most, lopsided World Series in the history of baseball. The Yankees killed the Pirates in three of the games, the Pirates squeaked by in three of the games, and in the seventh game, it was a seesaw battle, eventually won by the Pirates in the bottom of the ninth on a home run by Bill Mazeroski. Rumor has it, I was sitting on my mother’s lap watching that game, but somehow, I just don’t remember it.

In any event, the Pirates have been central to my life for well, my entire life. I of course remember and relished the World Series wins in 1971 and 1979, when the Pirates battled back in both cases to beat the Baltimore Orioles. In each case, it really didn’t look like they would win, but in each case, they overcame the odds and won. There were so many heroes, Roberto Clemente, Nelson Briles, Steve Blass in 1971 and Willie Stargell, Dave Parker, Jim Rooker, John Candelaria in 1979. I was at the fourth game at Three Rivers Stadium in 1979 in the bitter cold when the Pirates blew a 6-3 lead and eventually lost the game 9-6, going down in the series 3-1. But, as noted, they overcame the odds, came back and won that series.

While the highs were high, the lows were so low. The glory of the 1971 series win led to the unbelievable devastation of the 1972 playoff failure. The Pirates led the Reds 2-1 in the 9th inning, getting ready to win the series and go to the World Series again. Their closer, Dave Guisti, was ready to bring home the victory. Amazingly, Johnny Bench led off the 9th with a home run to tie the score. OK, we can go to extra innings and still win this. Shortly thereafter, the bases were loaded, Bob Moose was brought in, and a wild pitch later, and the game, and season was over. I remember sitting there in front of the TV, crying my eyes out (I was 12 OK!). I was heartbroken. A few months later, Roberto Clemente died in a tragic plane crash doing a relief mission, and the Pirates’ hopes died with it for a few years. By the way, I cried when Roberto Clemente died too, and again, I was still 12.

I worked for the Pirates in the fall of 1980 as an intern in the public relations department. While the job was basically that of a gopher, it was so exciting to be around a baseball team in the midst of a pennant race. I’d sit in the press box watching games, sitting with some of the greatest sports writers in Pittsburgh, and in many cases, some great writers of national recognition. I even got to work the TV booth for a nationally televised game with Howard Cosell. Sadly that year, the Pirates faded, they didn’t win the division, and my chance to feel the excitement of the playoffs and World Series faded just like the Pirates.

You know everyone talks about Sid Bream and the 1992 failure, but I still can’t figure out why no one talks about the failures in 1990 and 1991. I remember in 1990, the Pirates were playing those hated Reds again. I was living in Dayton at the time, and leading up to that series, WLW in Cincinnati was playing highlights from previous years’ radio broadcasts of Pirates-Reds series. I remember driving down the road, and the tape of Al Michaels calling the Johnny Bench home run in 1972 came on the radio, and I remember driving down the road screaming at my radio, “F you, Al, F you!” The pain became fresh again. I hope my mother doesn’t read this.

OK, still, why do I love the Pirates so much? Most people from Western Pennsylvania love the Steelers more than life, and while I like the Steelers, it’s not my passion. I love hockey, love the Penguins, and they are a close second, but still second. It’s the Pirates, no doubt. Maybe it has to do with those days going to games as a kid. In Pittsburgh, it’s virtually impossible to go to Steelers’ games, they have been sold out forever. I went to various Penguins games, but hockey is expensive, so we’d go to maybe one or two games a year. Baseball was different.

I remember the early 70’s, my brother was late in high school, early in college. I was 11 or 12. I would give anything to spend time with my older brother. We lived maybe 20-30 minutes from the stadium in North Hills. We’d drive down to Three Rivers, we’d park on the North Side on the street for free, we’d get $1 general admission tickets in the outfield, buy a Coke maybe, and get out of there for less than a couple of dollars. We went to so many games those few summers, driving down on those hot summer nights, listening to KQV or 13Q, I can’t remember how many times we heard BTO singing “Takin’ Care of Business”, and I’m sure so many other songs played multiple times, but I remember those nights, hanging out with my older brother and watching the Pirates. We were there in late September in 1972, freezing our butts off in the outfield, drinking hot chocolate and crouched up against the wall of the stands, trying to stay warm, waiting for Roberto Clemente to get his 3,000th hit. He finally got that hit off of Jon Matlack, and we stayed around until I think the 5th inning because Dock Ellis had a no hitter going. Once Dock gave up his first hit, we got out of there as quickly as possible to warm up.

Yes, the Pirates are first in my hearts. I am the butt of many jokes at work, I live in Braves country now, used to live in Reds country, and I’m an easy mark. Doesn’t matter to me, I wear my Pirates heart on my sleeve, and I wear my Pirates hat or shirt, win or lose, and yes, mostly lose. I ponder and wonder many times, why the Pirates? Why not the Steelers, why not the Penguins, why not gravitate to another team like the Braves? I guess so much of it goes back to how I grew up. It’s more than a sport, more than baseball, it’s a memory, it’s some of my best memories. Maybe that’s why the Pirates are so special to me, they bring me back to so many memories, to a simpler time, when $1 baseball games, driving into the city, hanging out with your big brother and keeping score in your program was something special.

I know I'm not alone.  From reading the game stories every morning in the Pittsburgh papers online, I know there are more of us out there.  The few, the proud, OK, the few, the resilient, the desperate, we have been waiting, and finally our wait is over.  This season may not be perfect, it may end very soon, but I'm not quite sure many out there can understand what it has meant to us.  While some may derisively talk about Operation Shutdown, Joggin' George Hendrick, Josh Fogg or Pat Meares, we have memories of glory days, of the Great One, Chicken on the Hill, Scoop and the Cobra.  While I know my kids will never know what it is to drive to the city and spend a couple bucks and have a night at the ballpark, I hope that I can somehow impart to them what those nights have meant to me.  Go Bucs.

Friday, June 14, 2013

Saying Goodbye

First, the picture. Several months ago, my cousin Roberta posted this picture, I had never seen it before. I fell in love with it immediately because my parents and my Aunt Bessie and Uncle Richard were still “young” and having fun in life. It’s how I wanted to remember them. Since then, we have lost Aunt Bessie, and now, my Dad. I want to continue to hold that picture in my mind, not the picture of him after cancer had taken over.


Second, as many of you know, dying can be an awful process for the person dying as well as the loved ones. I still hold a very pragmatic view of dying, if someone has lived a good and long life, we should be celebrating the life, not mourning the death. As much as I know that in my head, your heart oftentimes is telling you something different. That is the battle I’ve faced the last few months as my Dad was heading to Graduation Day. Graduation Day is a wonderful way that a friend from our church put it when he talked about our journey. We will never graduate on this side of Heaven, we can only be so good here on earth. Ultimately, the only way to graduate is to die and enter Heaven, where all of our sins are forgiven.

The following represents the correspondence I’ve had with my Dad, my Mom and friends as my Dad has headed to Graduation Day. I don’t believe it’s any different from what all of us face as we watch our parents age and get ready for the next life, but I wanted to share it in case it would help anyone else. Here are the final stages I went through on that final journey of saying goodbye and letting go.

When the cancer spread

Dad,

Whenever I face a difficult path in my journey, what always keeps me going is knowing that no matter what, God is with me on my journey. I hold close to the 23rd Psalm, which is listed below, and there’s one sermon that has always stuck with me, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Dr. Sandy McConnel. The one line that sums it up, “God was not present to intervene and prevent the wreck, but nonetheless God was not absent.” God walks with us through everything, and He is right there with you now. I know this is going to be difficult, but you can get through this with God’s help. We’re praying for you.

The LORD is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
2 He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.
3 He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup runs over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell[a] in the house of the LORD
Forever.

My First Visit After We Realized How Bad the Cancer Had Spread

Went to see my Dad. Essentially, he’s not living anymore, he’s dying. He’s lying in a hospital bed in the living room, doesn’t get out of bed, can’t get out of bed, he’s down to 115 pounds, at most, lost his hair, is barely eating or drinking, sleeps most of the day.

Dying is such a difficult process, I’m sure for the dying and the living. Realistically, I’ve been hoping or wanting him to die soon, since he’s in so much pain and is suffering so much. But as that time gets closer, as you know you have such little time left, the thoughts that go through my mind are just one more time, just let me get back here one more time before you die. I’m hoping to get back there in a couple weeks or so, get that one more time. I know at some point, or maybe it already has, that one more time will be gone.

From his standpoint, I’m sure he has similar feelings or thoughts, or I guess he does. He’s really not living anymore, he’s just dying. I’m sure on one hand, he just wants the pain, the battle to be done. But I’m sure once you get so close, it’s hard to give it up. Just let me see my kids one more time, let me see my grandkids one more time, let me tell my wife I love her one more time. I just can’t imagine.

My Letter To Him After That Visit

Joy:

As you’ve suffered through the last two years of cancer, I know it’s hard to find joy. Let me take you back to some of the memories you have and the accomplishments that you’ve made through your life. Maybe you can find joy in those.

• You’ve been married more than 60 years. With the divorce rate at much greater than 50%, that is a huge accomplishment.
• You raised 3 sons.
• You helped raise 7 grandchildren.
• You now have one great-grandchild.
• You quit school at 16, but you got your GED eventually.
• You drove a truck for many years and were very successful at that.
• You eventually ran truck terminals and were very successful at that.
• You owned various homes and eventually built your own home.
• You gave two of your sons land to build their own homes and you gave me money to compensate for that.
• You got to visit California and tour some great and beautiful places out there.
• You got to visit Las Vegas and see the glitz and glamour of Las Vegas.
• You got to see the majesty of Niagara Falls at various times.
• You helped us outfit our homes with the various things that a home needs but we had no clue how to do.
• You got to retire early.
• You got to move and live in Myrtle Beach, a great place to retire to.
• You have been very successful in managing your properties and investments.
• You honored your father and mother and all of the elders within your family.
• You have been a great brother to Uncle Pal.
• You taught us to honor our Mother.
• You taught us the value of our children and how important our children are to us.
• You taught us the value of hard work.
• You have been a great father, great husband, great friend to many people, great boss, you have led an incredible life.

You are coming up on Graduation Day. While we can accomplish so much on earth, we truly can’t graduate until we pass to the other side, until we reach Heaven. It’s OK to let go now. You really can’t accomplish anything more. You’ve left a great legacy, you have given us more than we could ever want or imagine. We know the pain is great, we know that you are suffering, it’s OK to give up the fight. You’ve given us everything, we can’t ask for anything more. When you know you’re ready, when you know that you’re ready to graduate, don’t feel badly about it. Ultimately, it will be time for all of us to graduate to Heaven, eternal life has already begun for all of us, some are just closer than others. Just know that we all love you, you’ve given us so much, and of course, God loves you, He never started loving you, His love is endless.

I really hope I get to see you again Dad, I really do, but if I don’t get to see you in this life, I so look forward to seeing you in Heaven. You can’t imagine what you’ve meant in my life, and I’m eternally grateful.

Prayers Answered and Unanswered

God answered my prayers, He let him go peacefully yesterday. And no, He didn’t answer my prayers, I didn’t get back there. I had a business trip to Germany, which is where I’m at right now, but as my brother Jim said, he would have wanted me to go on the business trip, and my Mom wanted me to go too. I know that in my head, but it still doesn’t help my heart. We had planned to go over this Monday once I got back to see him that one last time, just one more time, but somehow I knew, that one last time wasn’t going to happen.

I don’t question God’s plan or timing in all of this, I know He knows so much better than I do. Ultimately, I’m so thankful for the life my Dad led, the legacy he left behind, and the memories and wisdom he left me with. I’m happy his pain and suffering is over, and he has reached his Graduation Day. Thanks be to God.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

The Altar Call


One of the interesting things we encountered when we moved to the South was the difference in worship from what we experienced in the North. For so many years, we worshipped at Westminster Presbyterian Church in Dayton, Ohio, which we loved and still love. But as we would jokingly say about our church or our form of worship, we were the “frozen chosen”. We worshipped, we prayed, we sang hymns, we wore suits, but Heaven forbid, we did not show any emotion. We maintained decorum, no matter what.

When we moved to Georgia, we searched for a church. We had some misses along the way, and we eventually found a phenomenal church, First United Methodist Church of Lawrenceville. In so many ways, it is different from Westminster, but in so many ways, we love it just as much as we loved Westminster. As much as I would have never imagined it, we are even attending the Contemporary Service, and I’m sure if he were dead, the Reverend John Neely, the Pastor of Music at Westminster, would be rolling over in his grave. Westminster had a world-renowned pipe organ, with a huge incredible choir singing traditional hymns, oftentimes in Latin. We are attending a service with guitars, drums, contemporary music, with everyone singing along, raising their hands to Heaven, sometimes dancing and swaying to the music. In many cases, people wear blue jeans. Whew, I still find it hard to believe!

In any event, the one tradition that has enthralled me and captured my heart is the “Altar Call”. Toward the end of the service, as we prepare for the last song, the Pastor will say something like, “The altar is open, if you’d like to join the fellowship, make a faith profession or just come and pray.” This has become one of my favorite parts of the service. You’ll see various people or groups of people go to the front of the church, and kneel down at the altar. They will pray for whatever issues, pains, problems that they are facing in their lives. In many cases, it’s one solitary person, going forward to pray alone, silently sharing with God their pain. In other cases, the Pastor will come down, pray over them, comfort them for whatever ails them in life.

In many cases, you will see other people, or groups of people, heading to the front of the church, praying over them, holding them, comforting them for whatever is going on in their lives. In most cases, I have no idea what is going on in some of these people’s lives. It’s just so compelling to see so many people coming forward, being there, praying over them, being there for their brothers and sisters suffering. I honestly tear up just about every week watching the love of God in action through these people. Once, I was one of those people, coming forward for one of my brothers, along with probably 15 other men, comforting someone who needed the love of God in his life. It was incredible feeling the love of God, the power of prayer as we all stood with him, laying on hands, supporting him as he laid himself bare into the hands of God. It probably did as much for me as it did for him, being a part of praying over him.

As noted, my history, my tradition is nothing like this, I was a part of the “frozen chosen”. I never thought I would ever need to or feel moved to go forward for an “Altar Call”. But, life has a way of doing things to you that you would never imagine. As we’ve faced the greatest struggles we’ve ever faced in our lives, as we’ve fallen into the deepest depths we’ve ever experienced, Laurel and I did the unimaginable, at least from our history, we went to the altar to pray. As we got there, the emotions poured out, I couldn’t stop crying, praying for God to help us, to heal us. And then, the hands started coming. I felt the hands of friends, the hands of God upon us. To this day, I have no idea who those hands were, other than I knew they were the hands of God. And then Dr. Chappell started praying over us. And a certain calm, a certain peace came over me. The words I’ll never forget, the words that I still cling to, Davis spoke, “God has this”. Yes, God has this. Just like everything else, God has this.

The Altar is open. More to come.

Friday, May 10, 2013

Sandy's Greatest Hits

Recently, we had the opportunity to go back to Dayton, Ohio to our former church, Westminster Presbyterian Church, for the retirement of our former pastor, Reverend Dr. George H. “Sandy” McConnel. We had been members at Westminster for most of our adult lives, roughly 20 years. Sandy was our pastor for roughly 12 of those years, and he served Westminster for 21 years. Sandy had many gifts he brought to the ministry, he was a great leader and led some important initiatives at Westminster. He was also a member of our small group, a group of 10 men, that started in 1997, and is still going strong today. A couple of us have moved from the Dayton area, but we still talk, e-mail, share, pray for each other, and get together once a year for a retreat. These men have become the most important men in my lives outside of my family.


As members of my small group know, I carry around “Sandy’s Greatest Hits”. I have about 10 of what I consider Sandy’s best or most moving sermons that I periodically refer back to and share with others when the situation is relevant to one of his sermons. Most recently I shared one of them with my Dad as he is continuing his fight with cancer, and I’ve shared them with my son Patrick as he is facing a very difficult path in his road. Sandy’s sermons are incredible, they are poignant, moving, they make me think, they make me challenge what I believe. I may not always agree with him, but he always makes me think and pray about whatever the topic is, and I come through it much better than I was before. We joked when I was in Dayton, that I should send all of them out to my small group, but instead, I’ll cite my favorites, and a brief excerpt that has meant so much to me in the sermon. Sandy’s Greatest Hits, at least from my perspective are:

1. A Rose in Winter, 12/8/96 – “The greatest oppression is that things are what they seem and no more. Hope denies that.”

2. The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, 11/12/95 – “When the Edmund Fitzgerald went down in Lake Superior 20 years ago, God was not present to intervene and prevent the wreck, but nonetheless God was not absent.” My all-time favorite and the one I share and cite the most.

3. Play the Ball Where the Monkey Drops It, 11/13/05 – “Not only is God with us in our affliction, I believe God offers to assist us in weaving every tragedy into a new and meaningful life.”

4. Learning To Be Content, 8/24/97 – "Paul’s “yes” to Christ is so strong that his “no” to all other competing gods is possible. Paul has a burning “yes” to Christ – a “yes” that burns so deep that it makes it possible for him to say “no” to other things. Paul’s commitment to Christ is so real, so meaningful that material goods, social status, creature comforts are of no account."

5. It’s Not Fair, 2/27/00 – "The Bible does not promise that by “being good” we shall escape evil and suffering! But, it does make evident on almost every page that when evil and suffering come to us, as they inevitably will, we need not succumb to them but can live through them in such fashion that we are the conquerors, not they."

6. I Love You … I Love You … I Love You – God, 11/21/99 – "There may be times that you are out of God’s will but there has never been and never will be a time when you are out of God’s heart. Every prodigal that seeks grace finds grace."

7. The Conviction of Things Not Seen, 12/19/04 – "Now, hope is “the conviction of things not seen.” Hope is faith pointed towards the future. If faith puts us on the road, hope keeps us there."

8. Dealing with Difficult People, 12/19/99 – "If you want to deal with difficult people, start with the one in the mirror. If you want to change the world, start with yourself. Most of us spend too much time trying to change others and not near enough time trying to change ourselves."

9. Where Seldom is Heard an Encouraging Word, 11/14/97 – "Certainly telling someone something you like, admire or appreciate about them is a small thing. It takes almost no effort. Yet, when done with sincerity and love, encouragement pays enormous dividends."

10. The Family Values Debate, 11/8/96 – "How can any intelligent parent, knowing the negative influences that are a part of our high schools today, not encourage their child – even dare I say make their child – go to Sunday School and Youth Fellowship? Obviously I’m biased but I don’t understand. I mean if “family values” are important, why is church an option?"

I have a few others I carry with me, but these are the ones that touched me the most. Sandy’s last sermon centered on the beautiful Benediction he would give at the end of his services. It was so funny, I had forgotten about it, but I hadn’t forgotten it. As soon as he went into it, I remembered it, even though I hadn’t heard it in close to seven years. The Benediction goes like this:

Now go forth into the world in peace
Be of good courage
Render to no one evil for evil
Support the weak
Comfort the afflicted
Honor all persons
Love and serve the Lord
Rejoicing in the power of God’s Holy Spirit
And may the blessings of God
Father, Son and Holy Spirit
Be with you, this day and forever.

Amen. What a great career and service Sandy gave us all. He touched so many lives, and he definitely touched my life and my family’s life in so many ways over the past 20 years. He leaves an incredible legacy.

Memories of Gramma Dorfee

I remember when the kids were little, hearing that name – Gramma Dorfee. I guess Dorothy is tough to pronounce for little ones, at least my little ones, but she was always there to answer to it. My daughters, Megan and Kelly, used to wear her out, particularly Megan, but she could wear anyone out (sorry Megan). As much as they wore her out, she kept right on going, she loved her grandchildren.


About a month ago, we had the honor of attending Dorothy Bernardis’ funeral. Dorothy was my mother-in-law, she lived a long life, a difficult life, but she was always there for all of us. As best as possible, I try to look at death as a time to celebrate as well as to mourn the passing. So I’d like to celebrate some of my best memories of my mother-in-law, and all that she did for us.

My First Encounter – She Won My Heart

After a couple months of dating Laurel, I went to her home and I met my mother-in-law. For some reason, my father-in-law, Norman (or as everyone affectionately called him Norman T.), wasn’t there, can’t remember why. We were eating dinner, and I can’t remember what prompted it, but all of a sudden, Dorothy said, “well you know Laurel, you can be a real bitch on wheels sometimes.” How I didn’t spit out any food is still a mystery to me. That is the first time in my life I’ve ever heard the phrase bitch on wheels and the last time. But I loved it, and I’ve loved telling that story ever since, especially to my kids. Somehow, Laurel doesn’t have the same fond memory of that story. I took an instant liking to my future mother-in-law.

My Shield From Norman T.

Norman T. had a reputation. He chewed boyfriends up and spit them out. Norman T. was a stone mason, he was big, he was strong, he was tough, he was a prototypical man’s man. To be honest, after having daughters, I really don’t blame him, but his legend is amazing. After some time, I heard from my future brother-in-law’s how ruthless Norman T. was with them. He’d yell at them, tell them to get the Hell out of the house, treat them as badly as possible to test their merit. With me, it was a different treatment. He ignored me. It was as if I was wearing Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak. He would talk around me, look through me, it was if I wasn’t there, I assume he was hoping I wasn’t there. Dorothy always looked out for me. She wouldn’t let Norman T. mistreat me and she always ensured I felt welcome there. By the way, once Laurel and I told them we were getting married, Norman T. treated me like I was his best friend in the world, somehow my invisibility cloak disappeared.

Always to the Rescue

We had a couple problem pregnancies (I’m sure Laurel is thinking how did this become we?) first with Kelly and then with our twins, Patrick and Sean. In both cases, Laurel had to spend months on bed rest to ensure she finished her pregnancies for the babies to be healthy. In each case, Dorothy came and lived with us to take care of the family. She cooked, she cleaned, she took care of the kids, and she took care of Laurel. I’m not quite sure how we would have gotten through those pregnancies without Dorothy’s help, but thank God we didn’t have to worry about it. She was there to take care of us all. One story that I’ll always love surrounding this was the time I came home from work for dinner, and it was Dorothy, Megan and me having dinner, I think Megan was about two or so. As we ate dinner, I asked Megan if she wanted anymore French Fries, and she said, “no God damn it!”. As I jumped back in shock, figuring she had heard this at some point from Laurel (not me of course), Dorothy quickly jumped in and apologized. She said, “I’m so sorry, I burnt myself on the tray, and I said that, it’s not Megan’s fault.”. I was just thankful Laurel dodged a bullet and Megan didn’t hear it from her!

Devoted to God

Dorothy had the unfortunate and most painful task a Mother could ever have, having to bury a child. And she had to do it twice. She lost two of her daughters, Karen and Kathy, to cancer much too young in their lives. She also had to watch her husband, Norman T., battle cancer, a battle he lost about 15 years ago. While she questioned God, wondered what she had possibly done wrong to anger God, she never lost her faith. She was one of the most devoted Christians I’ve ever come across. She prayed incessantly, attended church no matter what, she worshipped God with a fervent faith that very few have. I wish I could someday claim to be the faith warrior that Dorothy was.

We gathered and put her to rest about a month ago, and all I could think was how great it will be for Dorothy to be reunited with Norman T., Karen and Kathy in Heaven. She suffered way too much the last several years, and while you never want to see someone die, when the pain and suffering gets to be too much, you want to see someone get the relief they deserve and move on to a greater life. Just like the picture above, I can just imagine Gramma Dorfee up in Heaven, dancing with Norman T. What a wonderful picture to see!

Sunday, March 10, 2013

The Short and Happy Life of Minnie McCullough

Minnie McCullough (born 2005? - died March 6, 2013)

Previously known as Zinnia (seriously) and Minnie Pearl.

Also known or called Minnie Moo, Minnifer, the Baby, Princess Minnie.

About six years ago, I got the brilliant idea (as I tell people I have lots of ideas, most of them aren't really good ideas, but I have lots of them) that Snickers needed a playmate.  So, I searched the internet for rescue beagles.  After months of searching, I found this cute, sweet beagle, who needed a home.  We went and met her, with her foster mother, and our spidey senses told us something was amiss, but she seemed somewhat quiet and shy, so we took her in as our new family member, and playmate for Snickers.

Little did we know what we were in for.  Minnie was probably two years old or so at the time, and she obviously had been abused, most likely by men.  She had the constant "flight or fight" mentality in all that she did.  Taking her for a walk was a challenge.  Taking her to the dog park was an adventure.  I still remember the one time (I think our last time at the dog park) when she took off at a sprint of about 30 feet and rammed into the side of this poor unsuspecting basset hound.  The poor dog had no idea what hit him and certainly had no idea why it hit him. We quickly exited never to come back.

It wasn't just other dogs that felt the wrath of Minnie, humans, mainly men, also felt the wrath.  I don't think any of us has not been bitten by Minnie at least once in our lives, you learned to watch closely the sides of her lips, to see if they were raising, ready to snap at you.  My Dad and Jim Dyer can both attest, she really didn't like men.  Again, I think it came from her beginning years of abuse, but my Dad and Jim both felt the wrath of Minnie.  Poor Dumb Ass, Snickers, felt her anger a few different times.  Most of the time, he had absolutely no idea what hit him, just that Minnie wasn't happy with him.  Being the typical man, he usually went back, very apologetically, no idea for what, but he went back groveling, trying to earn her forgiveness.

While we all experienced the dark side of Minnie, most of us also experienced the loving side.  Just like any other woman, her venom could be turned to honey in an instant.  She melted my heart just about every day by waiting at the front window for me to come home from work.  She'd stand at the front window waiting for my car, and when I pulled into the driveway, she'd rush to the garage door and wait to greet me.  She'd stand there and shake all over, crying when I came in.  No one has ever greeted me this way, and I have to be honest, it made me feel so special.  Of course, I'd give her a treat, and after a while, Snickers figured out that there was something to this, and he started greeting me also at the back door, but Minnie always got the first hugs and pets and treats, because she was the one who started it all.

Minnie was also the proof positive of how far we'll go for our pets.  She tended to have "accidents" throughout the house.  We tended to believe it was more to irritate us than anything, since she had just been outside most of the time when she did it, but she had to show us that we've done something wrong.  So, instead of dealing with Minnie, we ripped up all the carpeting, and replaced it with wood flooring, because she didn't like to go the bathroom on smooth surfaces (yes, I know, there's something wrong with us, not her).

Minnie also had her certain mannerisms that we grew to love.  She'd go to the backdoor, like she wanted to go out, and pull the "Minnie fake out" as we called it.  She'd stand at the backdoor until you opened it, and then she'd walk away.  She would oftentimes put her paw up on your hand, leg, computer, whatever to let you know that you weren't paying enough attention to her.  If you happened to lay on the floor for whatever reason, she would plop on top of you to let you know that you belonged to her.  And furniture was meant for Minnie to sleep on, not nice plush dog beds on the floor, that was for normal dogs.

I called this the Short and Happy Life of Minnie McCullough because that is what I want to remember.  I feel so badly that she was obviously abused before we got her, I really struggle with the fact that people abuse animals, children, etc., but the reality is that it happens.  I feel badly for Minnie for the last six months or so when she had cancer and life was a daily struggle, dealing with the pain and the inability to use her one front paw.  I want to focus on the middle five or six years or so when Minnie was the Princess, when she ruled our house, when we let her run our lives.  OK, I know you all may think I'm crazy, but I just loved that dog, with all of her faults, with all of her quirks, she made me feel special.  And that is why, Minnie was the Princess, the Baby, and she will always be in my heart.  I'm going to miss her, I'm going to miss that greeting at the end of the day.  But I'll always know in my heart that we gave Minnie a great place to live, and I wish all rescue dogs were that lucky. At the end of the day though, the amount of love that we gave to Minnie doesn't even come close to the love she gave us.  Just like with any dog, Minnie's love for us was limitless. 

Rest in Peace, Princess Minnie.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Is This Heaven?

Little Bit tentatively inched her way over toward Minnie, and finally got up the nerve and put her front paws up on the side of the couch.  "Um, excuse me, Miss Minnie?"

Minnie lifted her head off the couch cushion ever so slightly, and said, "Yeah kid, what do you want?"

"I was wondering, is this Heaven?"

Minnie turned her head sideways for a second, and said, "Why in the world would you think that?"

"Well, I've only been here a couple months but there's some things I just don't understand."

Minnie sighed, "Such as?"

"Well, the yard is incredible, it's all fenced in, so no mean animals can get in.  It's full of trees, and shade, and plenty of places to poop and hide it.  And there's tons of squirrels.  That doesn't do much for me, but Dumb Ass seems to love them"

"Dumb Ass?" Minnie said quizzically, "Do you mean our man owner?"

"Oh no," Little Bit said, "I mean the boy dog". 

"Oh," Minnie laughed, "You mean Snickers.  His name isn't Dumb Ass, that's just what the man owner calls him sometimes when he gets frustrated with him."

"Oops, sorry about that, I just assumed that was his name."

Minnie laughed again, "Here watch this.  Hey, Snickers, I think I see a squirrel on the bird feeder."

Snickers jumped up, and ran for the door, and started scratching frantically, "Squirrel, squirrel, squirrel, squirrel."

I jumped up from my computer, and yelled, "Just a second Dumb Ass, I'll let you out!"

As the door opened, Snickers rushed out, barking like crazy, and the hunt was on.  Less than a minute later, there was a frantic scratching at the door again.

"Ahhhh," I yelled, "Just a second, I'll let you back in."

As Snickers came in, he headed for the couch toward Minnie and Little Bit.  "Hey Minnie, there weren't any squirrels out there!  What are you talking about."

Minnie just sighed and said, "They must have heard you coming Snick, they know how ferocious you are."

Snickers slumped toward his pillow and laid back down, disappointed in the lost opportunity.

Minnie turned to Little Bit and said, "That trick never gets old.  Ferocious?  The next squirrel he catches will be the first.  OK, now your question, is this Heaven?  Why do you ask?"

Little Bit was still mesmerized by the squirrel adventure, but got her thoughts back, "Well, there's something I don't get.   I could be wrong, but it seems like every time you do something good, we all get treats."

Minnie looked back at Little Bit, and said, "Yeah, that's correct. And?"

"Well, it also seems that every time Dumb Ass, I mean Snickers, does something bad, we all get a treat."

Minnie smiled, "Yeah, it's great isn't it?"

Little Bit shook her head and muttered, "I don't get it."

Minnie sat up a little and said, "Look kid, don't try to understand it.  Just enjoy it.  I'm good, we all get a treat.  He's bad, we all get a treat.  You just have to play the game.  Have you seen what I do each night?  I wait at the front window for the man owner to get home, and then I run to the back door, and when he comes in, I do the shake.  He loves the shake.  He gets all excited and calls me his baby, and rubs my back, and gives me a treat.  And of course you and Snickers get treats too.  You just have to figure out how to play the game."

"So is this Heaven?"

Minnie looked wistfully away and said, "No, it's not Heaven kid, but it's close.  Listen kid, there's been something I've been meaning to talk to you about.  I really don't have a lot of time left, and there's some things you need to know."

Little Bit's ears pointed straight up, "What do you mean, where are you going?"

"Easy kid, it's OK.  But there's a few things you need to know.  You have to look after Snick, he may not be the brightest bulb, but he's a good boy, he has a huge heart, and he's really going to miss me.  You need to take care of our owner's kids when they come around, they don't show up every day, but when they do, they'll spoil you with toys and treats and lots of belly rubs.  Look forward to those days.  You need to figure out a routine for when our man owner gets home at night.  You can't use the shake, that's my move, you have to come up with your own.  Maybe that little dance step you do, he seems to like that.  And most of all, take care of our lady owner, she's the one who takes us places, feeds us, cleans up after us, she does it all.  Look after her."

Little Bit's eyes bugged out, her ears pointed even higher, and she started squeaking, "You can't leave?  I can't do this on my own!"

Minnie rested her head again, "Sure you can kid, I wasn't much older than you when I got here.  I became the Princess.  They treat me like I'm royalty, and they'll do the same for you.  You know kid, you might be right, this place just might be Heaven.  Heaven here on earth.  I'm going to miss this place."

Little Bit, dropped down to the floor, a little confused, and wondering what this all meant.  She looked up at Minnie on the couch, who was starting to nod off to sleep again.  She glanced over at Snickers, asleep on his bed, and as a devilish grin came to her face, she said, "Is that a squirrel I see on the bird feeder?"