Random Thoughts of a Catholic Husband, Father, Physician, Licensed Commercial Septic System Operator, Driving Instructor, Tractor Mechanic, Gardener, Deliverer of All Foods Carry-out, Amateur Book Reviewer, Neo-Texan, Novice Chicken Rancher, Beekeeper, and Writer of Really, Really Bad Poetry. I try to live up to Chesterton's observation that 'a thing worth doing is worth doing badly.'
LibraryThing likes to tell me things on the sideboard of my Home Page I have with them. Today, July 25, they told me that it is the anniversary of the death of Thomas á Kempis. He died today in 1471.
It is nice to be reminded of this, as I am in the process of doing St. Louis de Monfort's 33-day preparation for consecration to Jesus through Mary. St. Louis quotes a lot from Thomas a Kempis' excellent book Imitation of Christ. Here is the excerpt for the 11th day:
Imitation of Christ, by Thomas á Kempis: Book 1, Chapter 25 On the Fervent Amendment of our Whole Life
When a certain anxious person, who often times wavered between hope and fear, once overcome with sadness, threw himself upon the ground in prayer, before one of the altars in the Church and thinking these things in his mind, said "Oh, if I only knew how to persevere," that very instant he heard within him, this heavenly answer: "And if thou didst know this, what would thou do? Do now what you would do, and thou shall be perfectly secure."
And immediately being consoled, and comforted, he committed himself to the Divine Will, and his anxious thoughts ceased. He no longer wished for curious things; searching to find out what would happen to him, but studied rather to learn what was the acceptable and perfect will of God for the beginning and the perfection of every good work. A great quote, which gives a solution to St. Augustine's problem with conversion - he knew what he had to do, but he just couldn't do it.
The next quote is not from someone known for his holiness, but it bears repeating:
"I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book."
Occasionally we have an injury around the house which can't wait until we can get to the big city and get it fixed by one of them there city specialist type doctors. In this case, I have to rely on my dusty old skills which were honed last century while caring for patients in the wilds of Detroit and other areas west of there.
Take this monkey, for instance. He sustained a separation of his posterior cervical midline suture line, resulting in a moderate dehiscence of his underlying integumentary tissue. In short, he burst a seam on the back of his neck and some of the stuffing came out. On a Friday night, this couldn't wait until the city slickers were back in their offices Monday morning.
Despite the seriousness of his injury, his spirits appear good; but to my trained eye the anxiety is all too apparent.
A cursory examination reveals a loss of integrity of his hide. This must be fixed right away!
After a thorough history, I examine the patient, listening to his heart and lungs. I realize he has cataracts, but I can't do anything about them today.
The airway of the monkey is thoroughly assessed, insuring that the monkey can breath while lying on his tummy:
After seeing to the patient, I quickly assemble the items needed for surgery. Most are in my black bag which was my constant companion as I trod the pavement of Northeast Detroit. Well, actually, it was another bag, but it held the same kind of stuff....
Hey! I find all those stethoscopes which I thought I had lost at the hospital years ago. They look like a mess of rattlesnakes all curled together for the wintertime:
I find the 'single drug' anesthetic which I love so much: the hammer. It comes in two doses - large or small - depending on which side of the hammer you strike on the patients head.
After administering the anesthetic, I roll the monkey prone - on his tummy - for the surgery:
Surgical instruments give me good exposure of the interior of the monkey. The wound is explored, verifying that deeper structures have not been injured or contaminated with dirt or small toy parts.
Another view, with a hemostat used to remove a small toy from inside the monkey:
Thick, strong thread is used to bring the edges of the wound together, and within minutes of completion of the operation, the monkey is awake and ready to go back to whatever he was doing before we noticed the stuffing coming out of his neck.
It is work such as this which makes me glad I became a doctor!
During my week on vacation, a few lessons were hammered into my head. Read and learn from my experience:
1. Spilling Chardonnay on an Apple iMac notebook will kill the laptop computer - especially if the brand of chardonnay is named 'Die Apfeldammerung.'
2. Children who are taught to play 'Blackjack' will substitute matchbox cars for the pennies you used when you taught them.
3. Fireworks called 'Explodo' will do just that.
4. A shotgun called 'Persuader,' and is commonly referred to as a 'streetsweeper' is not effective for shooting skeet.
5. My children take after their mother - they are fearless of heights and other dangerous things in a two story house.
6. A 17-month old toddler can make beautiful music while crawling on the piano keys.
7. By the grace of God, Carolyn and I celebrated 21 years of married life last week. I am still amazed - and thankful - that she married me in the first place, and thank her for that fact every day.
8. God brought rain to north Texas last week to keep me from doing outside work.
9. I make an awesome slide show if I do say so myself.
10. I discovered a new and totally morally acceptable form of ART (assisted reproductive technology) which I plan on implementing soon, very soon. Bear with me.
Consider that, using the motto of the Benedictine Order (Ora et Labora - Prayer and Work for those of you who slept through Latin class), one can not just pray for something when there is a need to be met. In the process of begging God for another child, there are some things which can be done to increase the chances of having more. There are some good examples of this which we have seen even among our friends and relations. One example is buying a subcompact car immediately after getting married; this usually results in the mother having twins, or at least a lot of children in rapid succession. Another is signing a mortgage for a house of ANY size; scientific studies have shown that this increases the fertility of the woman by a factor of one thousand. I am sorry but I cannot remember the reference for this last statement, but I know it is true so you can believe it.
All of these therapies work with the younger couples, but the older couples are not without some means of increasing fertility without resorting to methods best described as 'animal husbandry.' For the middle-aged parents, there is one thing which is sure to work:
A sports car.
A sports car for Daddy.
Ford Mustang
V-8 Engine.
Overdrive.
Manual transmission
Stereo speakers everywhere.
Room for my wife and I in front, and two car seats for the twins in back.
I know this will be a sacrifice, but I am willing to make it for the family. As always, I am only thinking about what is best for the family.
I found a way to combine my love for literature with my penchant for really bad poetry, in particular that poetry form which was perfected by Basho.
I speak of the beloved Haiku.
Inspired by Basho as well as Amanda McKittrick Ros, and wanting to give some review of the books I read, and not having a lot of time, I present you with the first installment of something I shall call Haiku Review.
Today's blog entry will consist of reviews of:
1. Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen
2. In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex
3. Anesthesia For Patients Too Sick For Anesthesia(Anesthesiology Clinics), edited by Benjamin Kohl, M.D.
Here is the review of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice:
Second, I just got around to reading an article from the February 2010 edition of the Linacre Quarterly which discussed some comments Pope Benedict XVI made to the press while traveling to Africa in March, 2009. If you recall, Pope Benedict asserted that behavioral changes, such as abstinence and monogamy, were far superior to other means in reducing the incidence of HIV/AIDS, etc. The article in question - see the abstract HERE - supports the Pope's argument by referring to a host of peer-reviewed articles which essentially agree with what he said: staying out of the rain keeps you dryer longer than wearing a raincoat while playing in mud puddles in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Take that metaphor and meditate on it.
Third, I glanced at the latest edition of The Wanderer(June 17, 2010) and saw the following title of an article: "Benedict XVI Affirms That The World Needs The Cross."
I started thinking how the world - and the news media in particular - often misunderstands what the Church in general and the Holy Father in particular are saying. I thought about how the news media and popular opinion ignored what the Holy Father said about HIV/AIDS in Africa, and how he was criticized by the public. I thought a bit more, and naturally I saw some humor in this topic and came up with a new, mainstream media headline to replace the Wanderer's example above. Finally, I thought of a play on the words of Fr. Zuhlsdorf's blog to come up with the title of this blog entry.
So here are some of the titles of articles from The Wanderer(June 17, 2010) as interpreted by the mainstream media. The actual titles will follow in parentheses:
Pope Wants Us To Suffer He's Only Happy When We're Unhappy
(Benedict XVI Affirms That The World Needs The Cross)
Pope Finally Visits Cyprus 2,000 Years Too Late For Some
(Translation of general audience given June 9 where Pope Benedict XVI reflected on his trip to Cyprus)
Pope Wants Bridge to Cyprus Going East and West
(Pope Benedict XVI Calls Church in Cyprus A "Bridge Between East and West")
That does it for last week's edition of The Wanderer. Perhaps if I get ambitious I shall look for real examples of bad media coverage of the Holy Father and the Vatican.
By the way the Fourth Fact is not really relevant to this discussion, but is brought up to remind all people that deer are not gentle critters when they feel threatened.
I have had several online conversations with some young people about certain things posted on websites such as facebook. These conversations typically start with me reading something objectionable, such as foul language. Rather than ignoring the words, I have written to the person requesting that they desist from posting such offensive material.
The typical response from youth is to 'mind my own business' and 'I'm an adult now,' etc. I have commented in my replies that one day they may regret what they have done because it will come back to haunt them. Anything put on the Internet is available for retrieval.
That brings me to this little video, but I think the end result will be beneficial to this singer rather than detrimental. Back in 1978, a Mr. Hill(the English translation of his name) sang this song on Russian TV. Apparently this song means something to someone, and this style of singing is actually a real singing style. I don't know. All I know is that this music is different, unique. Now, 32 years after the fact, the video of Mr. Hill singing has come back to even greater popularity on YouTube, with an international audience now able to appreciate his particular talent. I predict that he will see a resurgence in his career.
Consider that even this music is more pleasing to God than vulgar and offensive language ever would be.
I live in Dallas, Texas, and recently asked my friends' little girl what she wants to be when she grows up. She said she wanted to be President some day. Both of her parents, liberal Democrats, were standing there, so I asked her, 'If you were President what would be the first thing you would do?'
She replied, 'I'd give food and houses to all the homeless people.' Her parents beamed with pride.
'Wow...what a worthy goal,' I told her, 'But you don't have to wait until you're President to do that. You can come over to my house and mow the lawn, pull weeds, and sweep my yard, and I'll pay you $50. Then I'll take you over to the grocery store where the homeless guy hangs out, and you can give him the $50 to use toward food and a new house.'
She thought that over for a few seconds, then she looked me straight in the eye and asked, 'Why doesn't the homeless guy come over and do the work, and you can just pay him the $50?'
I said, 'Welcome to the Republican Party.' Her parents still aren't speaking to me.
ATLS, Advanced Trauma Life Support for Doctors is an excellent resource for physicians who treat trauma patients. The book is written very well, with a list of objectives for each chapter listed at the front. The chapters are also arranged in the same order as the recommended management of the trauma patient; for example, the first chapter deals with the initial trauma patient assessment and management (the ABC'S of trauma). Subsequent chapters address airway/ventilatory management, shock, and then trauma management of various organ systems or regions of the body. As always there are excellent chapters addressing pediatric and geriatric trauma, burns, and trauma in the pregnant woman.
The book also includes several appendices dealing with such sundry items as injury prevention, the biomechanics of injury, and trauma scores. There are also sections of the appendix which deal with disaster management, emergency preparedness and trauma care in austere environments. I do not recall these articles being present in the ATLS course I took during my fellowship back in 1995. This reflects the changes which have happened over the past fifteen years in the world - 9/11, the war in Afghanistan and Iraq, and the continued threat of terrorist attacks which is a new experience for this country. I remarked to the instructors that the lessons learned in combat are evident in the course materials.
ATLS started in the 1970's after a surgeon saw how poorly members of his own family were treated at a small hospital after an aircraft accident. Since then, over one million physicians all over the world have taken the course. My reason for taking it in 1995 was to manage trauma patients while moonlighting as a flight physician - the doctor in the back o f the helicopter. Oftentimes we would fly to the scene of an accident and have to deal with whatever we found on the ground. Having ATLS gave me a systematic way to evaluate and treat a patient in some of the worse conditions I have ever been. Those days are over for me; now I stay at the hospital and deal with the occasional trauma patient. But it is still beneficial for an anesthesiologist to be on the same page as his surgical and emergency room colleagues when it comes to dealing with trauma. I strongly recommend this course to all of my colleagues.
The book includes a DVD which demonstrates some of the techniques for minor surgical procedures and airway management. One of the videos show the WRONG way to evaluate and treat the trauma patient. My wife and I found this very amusing. The course itself did not have the dog lab I recall taking; a trauma simulator has been developed which has replaced vivisection.
Watching you from the back of the chapel kneeling at the communion rail I consider what a gift you are to me straight from the hand of God
Recalling the teenage girl I used to tease until one day you grew tired of my sport and asked when I would ever take you Seriously
the time my brother and I serenaded you with ‘Sweet Caroline’ as we rowed across the lake and the fear in my heart when you almost fell off the roof of that parking garage
a kiss under the mistletoe, then while dancing at someone else’s wedding the whispered reminder that you love me no matter where I roamed
the microscopic diamond, the even smaller efficiency we lived in with hard work, separation, books and a promise as our first roommates
rejoicing with the birth of thirteen children and mourning the other two who never made it and the one who died suddenly in my arms
wishing I were as generous as you have been in our life knowing that I could never give enough in return to show my love for you
with broken cookie bouquets and edible arrangements which made better compost roses from Costco bought on impulse to make up for years without flowers
Thanking God and you for remaining through joys and sorrows of our life together I think you knew what you were asking for when you asked me to take you Seriously.
During this lull in blogging, we present another of our favorite restaurants: Chuy's!
Enjoy the reference to the Pink Floyd album Dark Side of the Moon: Light passing through a tortilla chip shaped like a prism, breaks the light into its components.
It is also believed to be a reference to the change from Black and White to Color in the movie The Wizard of Oz. There are many alleged connections between this album and that movie.
We present a couple of photographs for your viewing pleasure. Here we start with ZelieLouisa caught in midair on the trampoline:
One day, we had a large box from some sort of delivery. The children decided to make it into the truck they always wanted. They named it 'Little Tex.' Here are Max and Bernard:
Max shows off his ride:
Bernard got into some mud one day, and before we hosed him off in the tub we took a picture of him. He is not happy, but the tub always makes him laugh and smile:
In another picture, he is trying to climb over the top of the sofa:
And now a word from our sponsor. One of my nieces has this Toyota Sienna minivan, and she posted this tribute to it on her facebook page. If only they did a 15-passenger version of this song:
Word.
I would like to see a Toyota Sienna do what our van did today: 3 tons, 13 passengers, 0 to 70 in about 10 seconds to beat a semi as we merged onto a one-lane, cement-bordered freeway lane!
File photo of Sixty One Papa, also known as the Big Blue.
Another reason to thank God: Diaper manufacturers have stopped putting cute pictures on the back of the diaper. This means that I won't be putting diapers on backwards in the middle of the night
Today we are celebrating Benedict's birthday; it is next week, but there are other things going on that day. Ben wanted ribs, so I have been cooking them 'low and slow' on the grill.
Better get extra dental floss.
Here is a YouTube website which I find inspirational when trying to think of new ways to grill. These guys really love bacon:
This young man likes grapes:
Here are flowers for Carolyn; those in the foreground are from our fields, while the ones in the back are from a florist. Which do you suppose she likes more?
Another variety of flowers from our property:
There is a conspiracy in the Airsoft industry. They are determined to get an airsoft gun in the hands of every red-blooded American. This one was less than $20. It shoots well, too.
Speaking of guns, I can't get this song out of my head:
Yesterday afternoon, after much weeping and gnashing of teeth, we got all three tractors up and running. I was surprised that all three started up so well, seeing as how neglect was the main way that they were prepared for the inactivity of winter.
The resurrection of the dormant tractors coincided with the start of a fine drizzle, which progressed to heavy rain by sunset. That ended any plans I had for mowing the lawn. That was all right, because there is always something else to be done on our property. The children and I spent time hauling downed tree branches to the site of last year's bonfire. It was a big job; many trees on the property still need to be trimmed of dead branches. Dead tree limbs pose a real threat to the the children. In my practice, I have cared for several patients who had been injured by falling tree branches. One woman actually had a limb penetrate her skull.
But enough of my morbid medical stories.
If you look carefully at the picture above, one can see the pile of wood in the distance. Now it is larger, and obscures more of the distant house behind it.
Here is a video from last week, which shows how beautiful Spring is in North Texas, and some of the children working or playing in the back yard:
Springtime in North Texas is heralded by the blossoming of flowers, especially the Bluebonnet, which is the State Flower of Texas. I believe it is illegal to mow areas where the Bluebonnet is in bloom. Another floral rule or tradition of this season is to force little children to get photographed in Bluebonnet fields - regardless of where said fields are. It is not uncommon to see dozens of cars pulled off along the interstate to take advantage of the flowers blooming along the embankments.
Thankfully, we do not have Bluebonnets, but we do have these little flowers all over the property, which are just as beautiful and smell nice. One of the things I like about them is that they follow the sun throughout the day. In the morning, they lean towards the East, and by the end of the day they are facing the West. When I picked these flowers, they were turned toward what would have been the setting sun.
Another great thing about having so many flowers around is that the children can pick them any time to give to their mother. Even husbands can pick them, especially if they have to make amends for thoughtless infractions they may have incurred.
In one way, these floral arrangements are far more beautiful than those purchased at a flower shop, but I suspect women still love to get roses whenever possible.
Today marks the second anniversary of the death of my son Theodore.
He died at home, in my arms, while I tried to resuscitate him.He was probably dead already, but I could not stop until he arrived at the hospital and was declared dead by the emergency physician on duty.Almost twenty years of being a doctor had shown me that some amazing recoveries can occur, and I was not going to let my son go without a fight.It was to no avail.
As an aside, there is a tremendous blessing in being the one who was there when he died.My wife and children were spared the onerous task of trying to revive him; one might say that to person best qualified to take care of him was present.More importantly, I was there to do all that I could, and can never say that things would have been different if I had been there.There is no one who owns the failure to save my son except myself; there is no one I can blame but the man in the mirror.
I write this note to consider some of the things that have struck me over the past two years.Beside the big question of ‘why did my son have to die,’ there are other things which have come to light and made me wonder just how God had been preparing me for the death of my son, and how the death of my son would change - in particular - the way I practice medicine.Theodore’s death has resulted in a lot of revelations that will have repercussions for the rest of our lives, but this note will only discuss those related to my work.Hence the comment about sensitivity training.
1973
I recall an incident back in the Spring of 1973 which was the first time I ever thought about what it would be like to have a mentally retarded child.This happened over in Switzerland, where my family was living for a year.My two older brothers were getting confirmed, and there was no room for my younger brother and I to sit with our parents.We were sitting somewhere in the back of the church, when I noticed this young man who kept staring at us.He was making unintelligible noises and his parents spent a lot of time trying to quiet him.For my brother and I, who had never seen a child with Down Syndrome, it was quite a frightening experience.We moved to another place in the church.Even back then, I wondered what it would be like to take care of such a child.One day I would find out firsthand when we had Theodore.
1985
I was working weekends at the local children’s hospital as what was called a ‘unit supervisor’ while going to college. My job was to oversee the work of the unit clerks on the patient floors in the children’s hospital, the neonatal ICU, and the women’s hospital, as well as keep track of the messengers and patient transporters.It sounds like a lot, but it was not too bad as long as everybody showed up for work.On this particular day, I had responded to a ‘code blue,’ and my responsibility was to make sure that the unit clerk had everything he needed and that any laboratory samples made it to the lab as quickly as possible.
In the room, while a team of physicians worked on the little child, another group of nurses and doctors were trying to get the mother out of the room.She was screaming hysterically and had backed herself into a corner, and ultimately had to be physically removed.This was the first time I had seen a child die, and yet I can barely remember the child.All I can recall is the anguish and pain of the mother as she cried out for the life of her child. My heart went out to her.
July 1991
“Doctor, is my husband going to die?”
Times had changed.I was an intern, assigned to the cardiac ICU in the first month of my internship.I was no longer the medical student who could just sit back and watch how the interns and residents handled these kinds of questions.Now I was it.I was not an attending, but for this family, I was the doctor they would see most of all while their loved one was in the ICU.I was the last word on a lot of things, so I can only credit it to the grace of God when I did not say the first thing that came to mind when asked the above question.I was rather tired and was developing a cynical attitude about medicine, and it was only the first month after becoming an M.D.So, rather than saying, ‘we are all going to die someday, ma’am,’ I gave her some more reasonable answer which I can’t recall.It was not the first time that I benefited from keeping my mouth shut for a few seconds before answering a question.
Summer, 1995
My flight suit was soaked with sweat, and I felt really tired as I walked into the conference room set aside for the family.I was a resident now, but today I was moonlighting as a flight physician, the doctor in the back of the helicopter which would drop out of the sky and take patients away from the small, backwoods hospital and land them in the all-powerful university hospital – complete with trauma and cardiac care.
The family had seen us arrive, and they looked at me with eager expectation.What I had to say would not go over well, because I had failed to do what the emergency room (E.R.) team had already attempted.The wounds were too serious for this patient, and every intervention I could think of had already been tried.As one of the technicians continued CPR, I went ahead and did all that I could, to no avail.After reviewing the case with the emergency physician, and finding nothing else to do, we ended the code.As I spoke to the family, I made a point to mention that the E.R. team had already given excellent care to the patient, but that nothing could be done, and their loved one had expired.
All was silent for a moment, as if a punch line from a joke had been said incorrectly.The family could not comprehend what I had just said, but when it did, they totally lost it.There was not much more I could say.I mumbled my condolences and left.
It was the quietest helicopter ride home ever.
Summer 1999
In the Advanced Traumatic Life Support (ATLS) course I took in the mid-90’s, there was a saying, “pulseless blunt trauma equals death.”That’s what this patient, a young woman, in the emergency room looked like, until someone dragged a Doppler ultrasound machine out of a cabinet and swore they heard a pulse.At that point, the patient was rushed upstairs so fast that they left the surgeon and the anesthesiologist behind.I was the attending anesthesiologist, doing my time in the Air Force at this trauma center.We went to work trying to save the life of this girl.
The surgeon found a belly full of blood, which continued to fill up as fast as we could push it into her.After working for a long time, we realized her injuries were too great to repair, and ended the resuscitation.
The surgeon and I went together to talk to the family.What I saw next was the worst way to break the news to a family that their daughter was dead.As we approached the family, the surgeon asked me what the name of the patient was.It took me a moment, but I recalled hearing someone say her name was ‘Ann.’
I also observed that the large group of people in the hallway ahead of us was standing right in front of my office door.
The surgeon stepped up and addressed the crowd, “Who is Ann’s mother?”
“I am.”This from a short, stocky woman trying to wipe tears from her eyes.
“Ann is dead.”
He might as well have thrown a grenade at these people.In a moment, most of the people were rolling on the ground, wailing and crying and holding onto one another.From out of nowhere, a chaplain and security guards materialized and began to assist the people back into the conference room they had been in.The outpouring of grief was overwhelming.I pushed my way to the mother.Her husband was holding her; both of them were weeping.I took her hand and introduced myself.I have no idea if she could hear me.I told her something that I had started to tell people in this situation; I told her that her daughter had not suffered any pain as she died.I knew this to be true, because her brain had not been receiving any perfusion for quite a while as we tried to save her life.It was all I could tell her, and I felt as if I were going to cry as well.I had never been in her shoes before, but I could imagine – or so I thought.
I left, but there were still a few people huddled in front of my office door.I walked off to sit in the resident’s lounge instead.
June 2007
I am not sure why our friends asked us to come and see them, but there was no way we would refuse.I had been working in the yard, and with hours of sunlight left, I hoped to have it all complete on that Saturday in June.All those plans changed when we got the call.Our friend had given birth to a child with a known lethal birth defect, and as expected, the child only lived for an hour before dying.The child had been baptized, and now the family asked if Carolyn and I would come and stay with them for a while.We went to see them.It was a bittersweet time, knowing that their child was in Heaven, but also mourning the loss of a child.I know I did not say anything worth repeating while I was there, but just being there seemed to be what mattered most.
I shall always look upon this experience as a privilege.I think that it was a gift from God, something given to us to prepare us for what was to come.
March 2008
I was on a retreat, staying in a lodge in Oklahoma.There were not enough rooms for the attendees, so I was one of many who slept on the floor of the living room.This living room had the biggest fireplace I had ever seen, and we kept a fire going in it all the time, because it provided the heat for most of the house.
One disadvantage of sleeping in the living room during a retreat is that some folks like to stay up late and talk, so I found myself going to bed late every night I was there.I was not the last one to sleep, though.I noticed one man who would sit by the fire every night, just staring into it.Sometimes one of his sons would sit with him, but they never talked.When I woke in the morning, he would still be there, staring into the fire.I found out later that this man had lost a son about a year before in an accident.I wondered – God forgive me – what it must be like to lose a child.
April 2008
I found out what it must be like to lose a child less than a month later.Since that time, I have discovered that there are a lot of men and women out there who have also lost children; I discovered this when they would come up to us and express their sorrow and condolences to us.Being on the receiving rather than the giving end of things showed me how important even a few kind words, or even a hug – and I don’t like hugging people – is to those who mourn.
In the time since Theodore’s death I have had the opportunity to reach out to those who mourn, hopefully in a better way.I hope the flip response I almost said to the woman whose husband was dying never occurs to me again.In the past year I have had the opportunity to baptize a dying infant and to talk to an inconsolable woman who stated ‘there is no God’ upon learning that her son was dying.I also had the chance to say to a man who had just lost his son, “I cannot take away your pain, but I know what you are going through, and I am truly sorry for your loss.”I don’t know if I would have been able to say these things to those families if I had not had the experience of losing my son Theodore.
I had a birthday a few weeks back, and one of my presents consisted of two oversized mugs. This was part of a running joke we have in our family, which has to do with a scene from the 1995 BBC version of Persuasion. There is a scene, a breakfast scene, in the movie, where one of the main characters, Captain Frederick Wentworth, makes a comment to the main character, Anne Elliot:
"Quite lucky then you didn't bump into him"
...and then he takes a hit off of a HUGE cup. This cracks me up so much, that I would keep playing the scene over and over just to get a laugh out of it. Hence, when my birthday came up, I got some large mugs. They are great for making a bowl of tea and then leaning over it to try to clear the sinus pressure I have right now. I am on vacation for Holy Week, and making the most of it by being sick.
Catch the action for yourself, starting at 5:15:
For those of you on facebook, follow the link below to the scene at 5:15.
Bill Gates is not my favorite person, but what he said here is good advice for anyone, especially those college students who are going to be looking for work this Summer:
Stolen from the pages of Mulier Fortis over in England:
Apparently, Bill Gates gave a speech at a school, in which he recounted the following 11 things that students wouldn't learn in school. If it isn't true (I seriously doubt its veracity) it ought to be. Rule 8 caused great mirth among my colleagues...
Rule 1: Life is not fair - get used to it!
Rule 2: The world doesn't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.
Rule 3: You will NOT make $60,000 a year right out of high school. You won't be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.
Rule 4: If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.
Rule 5: Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your Grandparents had a different word for burger flipping: they called it opportunity.
Rule 6: If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them.
Rule 7: Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you were. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent's generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.
Rule 8: Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life HAS NOT. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.
Rule 9: Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF. Do that on your own time..
Rule 10: Television is NOT real life.. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs..
Rule 11: Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.
With regards to the last rule, perhaps you'll end up marrying one.
The picture is of Castillo de San Marcos, in St. Augustine, Florida. It was taken while on vacation with two of my brothers in 1985, before any of the Noisykids were thought of - but there was this young woman named Carolyn....
New this Lent. Purple Sno-balls from Hostess. Unfortunately, I could not find any of the 'rose' ones which were sold only on Laetere Sunday - that's last week for those of you who don't know.
They taste the same as the white, orange, and green ones: Here is a sweet little boy with bacterial conjunctivitis shopping while his prescription is filled. He demonstrated 'purulent discharge' from his nose all over Dad's shirt while at the pediatrician on Saturday morning.
If Obamacare takes effect, I foresee no more Saturday hours....
A fifteen year old shows off his size 15 boots. Smooth ostrich. I hear once you wear ostrich, you will never want any other kind.
I am sticking with cowhide for now.
A typical scene in a dining room at a restaurant in Fort Worth. Riscky's makes a good hamburger. I recommend it for those visiting the Fort Worth Stockyards.
Recently I started moderating comments on my blog after I noticed the same comment appearing on my blog. The comment was always written in characters which looked like Japanese, Chinese, or Korean characters, and they always included a link to another web page. The comment was also usually posted while most of us 'U.S.-Americans' were fast asleep, dreaming of new ways to conserve energy and make this a greener planet.
As you can imagine, the link was to a place which is not on the required reading list or recommended list for any man or woman of good will.
So, for the foreseeable future I shall moderate all comments before letting them loose on the blogosphere. I did consider making the blog a 'subscriber-only' blog, but that would mean that the two biggest readers of the blog - Carolyn and I - would have to sign in before reading my own work. Too much hassle.
The 'Default Picture Walrus' is debuting tonight as the 'Train of Thought Break' icon. Let me know what you think of him in this expanded role.
New Lyrics to an Old Song
- with apologies to Pete Seeger
I wrote these some time before our last presidential election. A discussion of the lyrics can be found in the original post located here.
This song is sung to the tune, 'Where have All the Flowers Gone?'
Sit back, tune in, turn on, and drop out:
Where Have Barry's Exes Gone?
Where have Barry's 'Exes' gone?
Are they hiding?
Where have Barry's 'Exes' gone?
I'd like to know
Where have Barry's 'Exes' gone?
Even geeks like me had some
That's what I'd like to learn
That's what I'd like to learn
Where have Barry's classmates gone?
Back at Harvard
Where have Barry's classmates gone?
I'd like to know
Where have Barry's classmates gone?
They could tell about someone
That's what I'd like to learn
That's what I'd like to learn
Where did Barry enter Earth?
In the U.S.A?
Where did Barry enter Earth?
Or somewhere else
Where did Barry enter Earth?
Check 'Certificate of Live Birth'
That's what I'd like to learn
That's what I'd like to learn
Name one thing that Barry's done
In the Senate
Name one thing that Barry's done
I'd like to know
Name one thing that Barry's done
[just hum the tune here....]
That's what I thought I'd learn
That's what I thought I'd learn
What's the one thing Barry's done?
Through this campaign
What's the one thing Barry's done?
To earn our trust
What's the one thing Barry's done?
He's deceived most everyone
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?
Environmental Update
The Spotted Owl.
Have you already forgotten the Spotted Owl?
I had, until I fortunately was waiting in a doctor's office(yes, even doctors have to wait for other doctors) and spotted(no pun intended) some liberal rag which was decrying the impending extinction of said owl in the woodlands of the Northwest United States. If memory serves me correctly, this bird was the cause of limitations put on harvesting lumber in the Pacific Northwest because the large trees were the preferred nesting sites for these winged critters.
Owls, 1. Loggers, 0.
Now it turns out that another type of owl, the Barred Owl, has moved into the same area and has systematically wiped out the poor little spotted owl. The defenders of the spotted owl, those who fought the loggers for the life of an owl, now plan on hunting the Barred Owl.
It seems as if the law of the 'survival of the fittest' has come into play here, with the stronger animal succeeding the weaker one. We shall keep an eye on this story as it develops.
Mary my mother, take my hand today, and all days. Lead me away from all occasions of sin. Guide me in fulfilling your last words in the Gospel, "Do whatever He tells you." Amen.
I used to have a section here where I listed some of my interests, but I was saddened to see that it linked my site to folks who had, well, behavior not really in line with that of a Catholic working hard to be a good dadwithnoisykids.
We have 12 living children, and their ages are: 21, 19, 17, 16, 15, 13, 12, 10, 9, 7, 5, and 2 years old.
Our third child, Theodore, passed away on April 3, 2008, at the age of 15.
