My Ring Has Three Diamonds

Merry Christmas!

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 14:53:00 +0000

This is my second Christmas as a divorcé and while the number of gifts under the tree is small, the meaning of the day is more powerful than ever. Because this holiday is not all about giving material gifts, it is much more. It is a time when we focus on others.Whether through the giving of a gift, the sending of a card, or even a phone call from across the country we take the time to reach out to others to connect to let them know that they are loved. But more importantly than that, Christmas is a powerful reminder that we are loved by God.

I am loved by God!

And so are you...

Merry Christmas

Truth Found The Light Of Day

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 00:27:00 +0000

Wham!

The words hit me. There was a kind of tunnel vision effect. Time slowed down. I was enveloped in a kind of quiet buzzing and my vision blurred... Soon I realized that I was furiously angry: How could you say that to me now? I'm unemployed and going through the worst time in my life and you choose this moment to tell me that?

The words came like daggers to my heart.

A mere five minutes before I had been asked to sit on the couch for a minute cause "we needed to talk". Not exactly a common event between my wife and I but this being exceptional times, not all that alarming to me at the time. Then everything went sideways. What do you mean by "Done"? Did I misunderstand you? What do you mean exactly? My wife of 22 years just told me that our marriage is over. Been over for a while in fact.

Something not entirely new, yet it was...

This was not actually the first time the subject had been brought up between us. On two or three other occasions my wife had expressed her unhappiness with our relationship. There was the time she went out for drinks and conversation with a friend from work without telling me. They did nothing more than hold hands, but I felt betrayed, inadequate, and ashamed the same as if it had been a more carnal affair. On another occasion she spent the weekend in a hotel to reflect and write. She came back seemingly having arrived at the conclusion that she loved me but needed more from me. On still another occasion I was banished from the house for a few days, which I spent at my Brother's place, then in the guest bedroom for a few days until we reconciled.

This time was starkly different - Awfully, agonizingly, irrevocably different.

After each episode, there was talk about what needed to change, and each time there were exhortations that I needed to do "more" - give more help around the house, help more in the decision making, keep up better on the home repairs... etc... all things to "do". None of these things made much of a difference though. Not because of a lack of trying, no there was tremendous effort to be more of a "doer". Not that at all. Instead it was due to not one iota of it being relevant. Not even almost. It was not what I was doing or what I wasn't doing, but the fact that it was me!

Different!

After all, hadn't she told me when I came to her all broken up about being laid off that she couldn't support me in this? Yes, She had. And just like every other time I couldn't understand why she was turning against me. I chalked it up to her problems. She has a history of depression and self loathing of varying degrees. She was grossly overweight the entire time I knew her. (Not that it mattered to me, I loved her despite her problems.) She was the product of a less than ideal family situation, one where alcoholism and poverty tore her parents apart when she was pretty young. I didn't care. I just knew that I could love her through anything... But not this!

There was no denying it. I knew it in the very core of my being...

Finally my deepest most secret fears were realized. Never allowed to see the light of day before, these suddenly free terrors burst forth, shattering my reality. They were behind a new awareness that overwhelmed me like an ocean wave that knocks one down and pounds you into the sand leaving you dazed, half drowned, and gasping for air. I suddenly knew why we were the way we were, and there was no escaping it....

We were going to separate.

Soon after that evening we sat across the table from one another enjoying our favorite dishes from our favorite Chinese buffet. We were talking, better than we usually do - heck maybe better than we ever did. The conversation was substantial, meaningful and relevant. Far from trivial, deeper, much deeper than small talk. I am keenly aware that this is probably how successful couples talk... but we are not successful. We are just the opposite. We are divorcing. Through tearful, wonderful, bittersweet words the truth is revealed. The truth that I already knew, but never knew. There was the fact that made it all finally make sense. The key to why there was always an undertone of uneasiness circling at the edges of my conscience. The bombshell that didn't surprise but that nevertheless crushed everything I had been, I was, and I hoped to be.

She did not love me.

Wham! Again the spinning, the gut wrenching feeling. My world fell away and I was engulfed in a buzzing sound like a microphone with it's jack only half plugged in amplified through headphones glued to ones head - there was no escape from the painful reality.

I was on my own.

In a tone and manner that seemed way too nonchalant, no - happy is a better word - in a way that was much to "happy", she was speaking to me from out of the chaos. As far as she could tell she never really had loved me. She loved the idea of being married, of not being alone, of belonging... but did not love me. Probably not ever. She said it again - I don't love you. It was obvious it was not repeated for my benefit, but instead it seemed to be for her own benefit, to be sure she had actually spoken the words. Words that had never been allowed to pass from her lips, but that had burned inside of her for a very long time.

And though I didn't understand it at the time, thus began my second life.

The Saga Continues

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 04:26:00 +0000

Loosing ones job is one of life's most stressful events. My experience certainly was no exception. As I reread the last few posts here, I realize that they were written by a different me. Thinking of this one in particular, I was at a point where I had to force myself to look toward the positive, to minimize the hardships of the present and forget much of the immediate past. I was maybe, just barely, starting to see a glimpse of the possibilities of a new future and clinging to that feeble thought I managed to write a mostly positive post. The fact is, there was another monumental obstacle looming in my headlights. By the time I wrote that post, it had already appeared on the horizon yet that fact was completely ignored by the me that was writing back then . . .

Making good use of the resources offered by my former employer, I started to submit a lot of quality applications to numerous organizations around the city. I applied to any companies with IT openings, from corporate behemoths to mom and pops, mega hospitals and universities to clinics and elementary and middle schools. I even signed on with three or four staffing firms who each had a different focus in their client base. Every one of them received a specially tailored resume. Finding a job is a full time job, and I made the most of it.

But life sucked. It started to get more and more difficult to get out of bed in the morning. When I did get up, it became a supreme challenge to keep on task, to keep checking for new job postings and submitting resumes. Hell, it was a huge victory to stay awake at all much of the time. To this day, I wonder how folks can be successful while working at home; for me home during "work" hours became a lonely, too quiet, temptation filled, overly comfortable cell. It took herculean effort just to make it through some days because my way of dealing with the stress was to sleep. Depression is the name of the beast in this circumstance and to escape it I would succumb to the relative peacefulness of sleep.

Somehow I managed to forge ahead. I started to draw upon a source of inner strength that I didn't know I had. It was not a surge of realization or a blast of renewed confidence or even a sense of impending doom that motivated me. But rather a slow, tentative building of resolve. A gradual growth of acceptance. A well disguised building of character and wisdom - despite my tendency to wallow in self pity and victim-hood. The more I forged ahead, the more I realized that I was doing just about all someone in my position could do.

After several months I finally started to feel that maybe I was getting a little traction. It wasn't much, but was enough to help my motivation and to stave off despair. A couple staffing companies had interviewed me and felt that I had many skills they could market to employers. Paperwork was filled out and preparations were made for the jobs that would hopefully materialize. Temp jobs yes, but that means additional experience and often an offer of a full time position. But times being what they were, nothing much further happened....

At first I was sure I was hearing things. It sounded like a phone . . . my phone even. . . MY PHONE! It was RINGING!!! Leaping toward the suddenly useful device I managed to trip and nearly fall. By now the caller ID showed the name of one of the companies I had applied to and my breath caught . . I forced a deep and I hoped calming breath and answered the phone as evenly as possible. Would I be available for a pre-interview screening? Yes . . .When? Now? Of course! Out of nowhere I was completely on my game; I was strangely at ease, I oozed confidence from every pore, my answers were all concise without being terse; To the point, while still touting my skills and accomplishments. Something had clicked and it was as if I had been asked to retell my favorite story... That 45 minute call bouyed my spirits all the way through the next too weeks when I got another call. This time it was for a real interview with the hiring manager. The next few days flew by, filled with many applications and additional conversations with the staffing companies.

The day of the interview arrived and I was ready and loaded for bear. I had on a brand new suit, every hair was perfect and my answers were well rehearsed. . . and the interview was a thing of miraculous awesomeness. Like the phone interview before, I was owning this meeting with my potential boss and relishing the confidence and poise I was exhibiting despite the previous months of despair and self doubt I had endured. I can only assume that there was some divine intervention at play, because even multiple post interview critiques could not bring out anything I might have said or done wrong. Things had finally turned around for me!

Seriously, things had really taken a turn for the better because now the staffing company believed they had an opening for me too!

Holly crap!

Months of nearly fruitless job hunting had suddenly offered up two promising job prospects, and now I was faced with an unthinkable dilemma: I actually had to choose between two jobs!

I was soon scheduled for another interview, this time with the Project Manager and Architect, and also was called in for final paperwork at the staffing company. But before I made it to either of those appointments I was to be hit with the biggest bombshell yet...

March Is Here

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 13:48:00 +0000

Well . . . It's March again and all I can say is I have mixed emotions.

I turn 47 this month.

These past couple years, I've not really enjoyed my birthdays, but that isn't to say I've dreaded them either. Instead they just sort of came and went without much thought one way or the other. I guess that is to be expected given the circumstances. . .

But this year there is a different mix of feelings to deal with. On the one hand I am getting ever closer to 50. If you have never thought about what that means, think of it this way: If you live to be 100, 50 means your life is half over. But many people don't live to be 100. In my family, many of my parents siblings have managed to live into their 90s. Mostly those final years have been good years - so that's good... But many others have struggled with illness and have left this world much earlier. My own father died before he turned 70 . . .

On the other hand, I have a lot to be thankful for, and very much to be proud of as I reach my 47th birthday. I have a couple great kids who continue to do well and have a pretty good idea of what they want to do with their lives. I have endured the monumental challenges that have tested my metle these last couple years and have found that I am stronger, more capable and more resiliant than I ever imagined. . .

And so I find that I am not really all that worried that I'm turning 47 in this month. Yes, it makes me think from time to time about how much (or how little?) of life there might be left for me, but that only serves to remind me to live the best life I can now. There is no time for worry or regrets. Worry only makes the hours drag by and amplifies the misery of every fretfull second. Dwelling on regrets is a huge time waster and may dammage the spirit and confine me to less than my potential if I start to define myself by the mistakes of the past.

Better to remember the lessons I learned from my mistakes and, using that hard won wisdom, go with renewed confidence into the day

The Lemonade Turned out Sour

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 22:10:00 +0000

Wow! What a whirlwind! It seems inconceivable that nearly a year has passed since I last posted here. Trust me when I say a lot has happened between then and now. In fact that is an understatement of the highest order . . . There is so much to tell it is difficult to know where to start. So let me begin with this statement:

"It was a period of tremendous growth and learning for me."

Uh Oh! If you have been around the block a few times, you probably recognize that sentence is often uttered by someone who has undergone a monumental hardship, great personal tragedy, or is referring to their childhood. Well I can tell you that all are true and I hope to share some of that stuff with you here.

But let me start here. A few minutes ago, as I was rereading my last few posts, it struck me that my blogging reflects something about me that has actually made the last several months more difficult to endure. I noticed what is probably painfully obvious to you - that as I was enduring a time of great adversity I didn't post anything here. That is to say I didn't share with you what was going on with me; not in this forum - and what I realize now - not with those people closest to me in real life either. I seemed to loose the desire, no - the ability - to share my thoughts and feelings when those thoughts were filled anxiety and anguish, when those feelings were of pain, or loss, or fear; times when I felt vulnerable or needy. And that my friends is exactly what the problem was . . . is . . . well we'll see.

So . . . what's been going on with me then? Well, I'll tell you . . .

Later!

Sorry. It's getting late and I want to get a bike ride in without having to worry about it getting dark. Oh, yeah - bicycling . . one of the new, old things in my life. I've loved to ride since I got my first hand-me-down Schwinn bike back in the 70s. It was left behind by some tenants when they moved out of my Aunt's rental house. My dad had it fixed up and I learned to ride it out back of the gas station where he worked. (I ran into a parked pickup showing off that I had finally learned how to balance the thing, but had not yet learned the importance of watching where one is going!) Cycling quickly became more than a fleeting passion and after a few years of saving up lawn mowing money I bought a really nice, lightweight bike and started riding many miles on the local bike trails and in organized rides. Anyway, getting married and having kids meant moving and that turned out to be very bad for my bike riding passion. It died.

Anyway, present circumstances have allowed me to revive that passion in a big way.

And that, my friends, is a teaser as to what future blog posts may bring!

Time To Make Lemonade!

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 14:43:00 +0000

Having never lost a job before I really had no idea what to expect after getting my "60 Days". That's corporate speak for your job has been eliminated and we're giving you two months where we'll pay you to find a new one. Anyway, I gladly spent most of the first two weeks of that time helping transition my various duties to those folks and groups who would assume them after I left. I really wanted the folks I worked for to be taken care of - after all that is what I worked so hard to do every day for so many years! It was a convenient thing too, because It meant I could pretend things were relatively normal for a while longer.

But they were not.

Once I was no longer expected to appear in the office, I really started to feel like a fish out of water. It started to feel like a permanent hole had appeared in my gut. . . I stopped eating much, I lost weight. I withdrew from my family's activities, I slept a lot . . A LOT!

My dear wife was quite understandably concerned about me. But I kept reassuring her that I was fine, and just needed to adjust to my situation, just needed some time to my self. . .

The highlights of my next few weeks were attending meetings with the career counselors and HR folks at my soon-to-be-ex employer. I can say this much about the company - they do have an awesome set of resources in their HR staff. They are wonderful folks; They genuinely cared about helping me prepare for the daunting task of job hunting and I am grateful for their help.

But after a while there were no more workshops to take, no more sage advice from folks who had "been there". Even the mock interviews, reportedly handled like a pro, were behind me. Time was running out . . .

I was left with just about nothing but the hole in my gut to keep me company. It was unrelenting, unsympathetic, all consuming, and at times nearly unbearable. . . . I finally admitted to my wife how much pain I was in. It surprised me how much it hurt, to be suddenly without that which had become so much a part of the fiber of who I was. I broke down and sobbed in her arms. It was such a release - Yet I immediately regretted appearing so weak to her. I'm supposed to be the man in the house! I'm supposed to be strong! After that I retreated even further into my own personal purgatory - which of course was self defeating. I'm sure even as you read this you can visualize a swirling vortex, the spiraling down or spinning out of control that one so often hears about . . .

So then many of you will recognize what I have just described as depression. There is no other word for it. And no adequate way to describe it, so I won't try - Those readers who have experienced it know, the rest of you should feel very lucky!!!. Anyway, fortunately I recognized something was seriously wrong and reached out for help . . . And found it in the form of a therapist who made all the difference. (Again, my soon to be ex employer provided the salvation I needed in the form of free counseling services!)

I won't bore you with all the gory details, but I will say that the pivotal moment for me was when I learned that what I was experiencing was grief. A part of me had died and I needed to let it go. Funny, even though I have lost both my parents, I had never grieved so much before. Sounds strange I know, but I lost my parents slowly to disease. My father suffered a long decline due to Parkinson's disease. I got to say to him what I needed to before he passed, so it was more of a relief when his suffering was over. The same was mostly true of my mother. She had cancer, so I knew what needed to be done; we had prepared for the inevitable. So even though she did pass unexpectedly quickly, It was not devastating. In fact it was a blessing that she didn't endure much pain or suffering.

Losing my job was like some powerful malevolent force had suddenly reached into my soul and ripped out a critical piece of my very being. Indeed, it had . . .

These things I came to understand through sessions with the therapist. It sounds cliche, but putting a name to it made all the difference. I have long believed that one can not change what one does not acknowledge. In this case acknowledgment took the form of understanding that I was experiencing grief of the highest order - and fortunately I knew how to deal with that!

I am so much stronger now. I will never again define myself so much by what I do for a living. This experience has brought into sharp focus just how important my family is to me. How important my friends are to me. And for the first time, how important I am to them . . . A worth that is not defined by a paycheck or the skills that earn it, but by the Husband, father, and friend I always was to those who love and care about me.

Lemonade anyone?

Eight Years Ago Today . . .

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 17:40:00 +0000

. . . need I say more?

Probably not, though I'm still surprised at the strength of the emotions that are evoked within me each year on this day. Eight years have not healed the wounds. I have not forgotten . . . nor do I think I ever will.

Life Doles Out The Sour Citrus

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 14:56:00 +0000

Well, here it is, the last day of August and I'm sitting in front of a monitor, fingers on keys typing away. Something I've done every day for years - a few months more than 20 years, in fact. Another typical Monday for a Married Father of two. Except the venue is different these days. Decidedly . . . homier . . . you could say.

Because, well, it is home after all.

And so in that respect everything is different about this Monday. In fact, just about everything has been different every day for the past 5 months.

It was on April 3 that things changed. Had I been more curious, I might have noticed that the meeting notice my manager had scheduled a few days prior was not quite in line with the usual meetings she scheduled with us. Longer, this one. Kinda had a vague-ish subject. And not back to back with similar meetings for the others on the team like usual. It was also scheduled in the cafeteria. It's not an unusual thing for meetings to be held there, except my manager was usually very good about finding appropriate meeting rooms . . .

I only recall a slight unease as I headed down the elevator and toward the seating area of the cafeteria. I'm sure I dismissed it as the typical twinge one feels when going to see one's supervisor one-on-one about something. See, I had just been given a raise not even a month prior. Even though the economy was tanking and Management had warned us that very few if any of us would get any raise at all - my manager was extremely pleased with me and my work performance and pulled all the strings she could to get me the maximum raise possible. She had even given me an important and challenging assignment for this year, proving her confidence in me and my ability to get the job done.

But then I caught sight of her and immediately sensed something. My smile sagged and my shoulders drooped a little. A few more steps closer and the alarm in my head started banging away at full alert. I could now see that her eyes were red as if she had been crying. This being completely out of character for my "no nonsense" boss, I was now quite shaken - Something serious was about to be related to me - My mind reeled with the possibilities . . . Was her team being disbanded? Had some or all of us been reassigned to other teams or duties? Had someone died? My thought in that instant though was that, whatever it was, I could handle it - there would be a change, but that's often a good thing . . . I had just gotten a raise . . .

Then she said something - we were going to another place so we stood up and she led the way. I remember a numbness; There was a soft buzzing sound and a vibration in my limbs. Through tunnel vision I saw people passing by in a slow motion blur. I have no idea if I was smiling or grimacing. Then, as if through thick, cold molasses the two letters naming our destination finally managed to push themselves into my consciousness: HR. We were going to HR! The alarm in my head flew from it's mount and exploded - and in a defensive spasm my thoughts were taken over with trying to think of anything I might have done to have gotten myself fired.

But before any concrete thoughts could come together in my head we arrived at a small meeting room in the HR office. The door was closed and I was being introduced to a younger man who, I noticed when I shook his hand, seemed to be much more nervous than I. He was shaking. Strangely, I was not. In fact I had suddenly grown very calm. Even as I was being told that I was being laid off, that my job had been eliminated due to market downturn and budgetary constraints, I was returning to a much more normal state of being. My normal senses returned, and I actually felt sorry for the two people now sitting facing me, their faces full of concern, sadness and regret. Sorry that they had to be the bearers of such unhappy tidings.

My first words at this news? "OH GREAT!"

Now, as I sit here in hindsight, I wish I had said something with much more force; Though I'm not sure that even the obvious "F-word" choice would have done justice to the event. . . For there was so much more I didn't know about what being laid off means.

News Flash! This Blog Is Not Dead . . .

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 13:39:00 +0000

Well, it has been a long time since I've managed to post something. And a lot has happened over the eight months since my last post - The most dramatic thing being that I was laid off in April.

I'll surely be able to get a few posts out of that, but a lot of other things have happened that are blog worthy too: Our beloved dog died. We managed to get a small vacation in. Both of our children have started a new phase in their education. A favorite Aunt passed away. I even managed to sign up for Facebook!

Look for my musings on these and other topics in the near future.

Happy Holidays!

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 18:28:00 +0000

Well, I know it's late, but I hope you have had a wonderful Christmas and have started this new year on a happy note. . .

As for me, it has been a very good holiday season, and I'm hopeful that 2009 will prove to be a good year for everyone. . .

Guess we'll find out!

First Tuesday in November

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 17:06:00 +0000

Well, it's finally here! The most highly anticipated day of the season will be here tomorrow! I can't wait!

Finally no more campaign adds!

Oh, and we get to vote too. . . . :)

Seriously - please exercise your constitutional right - VOTE!

A Day to Remember

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 23:02:00 +0000

Tomorrow is September the eleventh. Another ordinary Thursday in the waning days of Summer.

Yet, no American can just think of it like that. Not now. Thanks to a tragically un-ordinary Tuesday morning, never again will the eleventh day of September be anything other than "nine-eleven": That fateful day seven years ago when our country lost it's youthful innocence, when the world suddenly seemed to become a much more hostile place, and when America's shores no longer seemed a safe refuge.

None of us will ever again be the same.

Nonetheless we must never forget the events of that horrific Tuesday. We must never forget the senseless loss of life. We must never forget the heroism of selfless firefighters and policemen. We must never forget ordinary citizens who rose to face an extraordinary occasion. We must never forget those who put themselves in harm's way to try to help others. We must never forget "Let's Roll".

Strangers helping strangers. Americans helping Americans.

I remember where I was that Tuesday years ago when I first heard the news and saw the images of smoking buildings. I remember looking to the sky and seeing no planes . . .

I remember and my soul aches with the memories. . .

We must never forget.

Being True To My School

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:45:00 +0000

This past Monday, my wife, our son, and I were visiting a college campus in a neighboring state. While on the campus tour, our exuberant tour guide decided to teach his school's fight song to us.

It just so happens that this particular university is the arch rival of the one from which I graduated, so I quite naturally did not participate. I couldn't lest I would feel like a traitor.

The guide of course noticed my non-participation and called me out. I rather bluntly explained that I was an alum from Rival School and damn proud of it! This of course was cause for much guffawing and laughter . . . But I didn't care. I'm loyal to my Alma Matter and proved it that day.

Unfortunately this was the cause of some embarrassment to my son, and near mortification on my wife's part. (Both of them participated in the lesson to varying degrees.)

So I ask you, dear readers: What would you have done?

Of Time and Change. . .

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 13:35:00 +0000

I've been thinking a lot lately about college.

Our son is a Senior in High School so picking an institution of higher learning is paramount in all our thoughts these days. The selection process is daunting considering all the variables to worry about with curriculum, location, tuition, majors, demographics, and grades being constant topics of discussion.

The last couple days have been a bit different for me though.

This weekend the boy, no, young man, has been participating in a three day swim meet being held at my alma matter. Being there made me think back to my years in college. While there were two more of those years than I probably should have had (heh, that's another story) they were arguably the best years of my life - while at the same time being pivotal in my becoming the man I am today. The consequences of my college years have had an awesome affect on me.

I hope and pray that our son experiences the same kind of growth, the same kind of enlightenment that I experienced. That is to say, to learn what he needs to learn about himself, about life, and about the world that we all share. The lessons that I learned shaped me, and the lessons that he will learn will shape him.

Suddenly picking a college seems ginormously more daunting. . .

The good news is we are making progress. Well, they are making progress. . . My wife has approached the subject with her formidable analytical and organizational skills and has worked endlessly to gather information on any and every college that has any possibility of appealing to our young man. By thoughtful categorization and classification, a few hundred institutions of higher learning have been paired down into a very manageable group. We've even been on an official visit, with more scheduled in the next few weeks. . .

Beyond being supportive and managing some of the logistics, I'm not much help in the process though because I have no personal experience to draw on: I had no choice really in where I would go to college. At least not that I was aware of. I went to "Alma Matter University" because I could commute to school while keeping my job and living at home to minimize expenses and prevent putting additional financial burdens on my family. In fact my big decision was not what college I would go to, but IF I would go. I was seriously considering going to the Fire Academy to become a firefighter, and also high up on the list was becoming a mechanic like my dad.

But school was my choice - and thank God It was! For without it, I would be a very different person today and would likely not now be thinking about colleges for my son. If I even had a son . . . For it was my last few years in college that helped turn a long friendship between me and my high school sweetheart into what has become a long marriage!

To this day we marvel at the circumstances that brought the two of us together. I had no understanding then of the gravity of my decision to go to college, but I do now. And I'm in awe.

I guess for our son, all I can hope for is that we do the best we can and pick the right school based on those criteria we deem most important.

I hope we do an awesome good job.

The Good Old Days All Over Again

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 22:12:00 +0000

Today is not one of them, and neither were the last several. Just a couple weeks ago though there were several. It was like the 70s all over again for me. And the 80s for that matter.

The Good Old Days.

If you are wondering what I could possibly mean, what with gas prices breaking all kinds of records, the economy in the toilet and - put your favorite horror here - What could possibly remind me of the good old days? I've lost my mind? I hope not. (And you may be too young to remember the gas shortages and economic woes of the 80s. But I digress.)

In a very direct cause and effect way, those very high gas prices led me to rediscover some simple pleasures that I had long forgotten about.

Leisurely drives. With the windows down.

Yup, much of my memories center around the automobile. My dad was a mechanic for 40 years, and so father son time often involved cars. And in the warmer months, family time meant going for a drive - to cool off.

In the days before air conditioning was common place in cars and homes, one way to cool off was to go for a drive in the country in the evening. We did this often. I remember the sounds of the crickets and bull frogs along with the rush of the wind as we passed along fields, ponds, and farmsteads.

Later, when I was old enough to drive and have my own car, I remember hearing what was on other peoples radios at stop lights and sometimes their conversations. There were birds singing in the trees overhead and dogs barking at you from the curb. Occasionally a friend would shout you a greeting from the next lane or the sidewalk.

Traffic noises often dominated my commutes to school but it meant hearing the sweet unfiltered sounds of all manner of powerful engines. In those days you were cool if you could identify a car by it's revving engine. I still remember the sweet sound of the 12 cylinders of the Lamborghini Countach that once pulled up next to me at a stoplight. . .

Then there were the close calls. Where today you get a muffled horn blast, back then you could shake your fist, flip "the bird" an cuss out the driver who just made a boneheaded maneuver. All out your open window right into the other drivers equally open windows. It was expected.

I miss that.

Oh, and did I mention the smells? I think the smells are what really made the strongest memories for me. Of course there's the not so nice odors, like burning oil, hot exhaust, and the occasional skunk that didn't quite make it across the road last night. Oh, and Pig farms! But what I really enjoyed were the scents of Spring: Freshly mowed grass, trees bursting in flower, the coming rain.

So this spring, when it was pleasantly cool and dry on the way to work and back, I had the windows open most of the time.* Unexpectedly I found myself recalling all kinds of things I had forgotten I'd forgotten. If you know what I mean.

As kind of a side effect, I also started to drive without haste; coasting down hills and toward stopped traffic rather than barreling full tilt only to stop hard at the back end of a line of traffic. It was quieter. It was relaxing. It relieved some stress. It allowed me to more fully enjoy the simple pleasures that once were so common, but now were as if never before experienced.

Oh! It also gave me something to share with you!

*(Never on the freeway, the increased drag at those speeds hurts mileage more than running the AC's compressor. Besides, it's just too damn noisy . . . And I got 405+ miles out of a tank of gas - about 26MPG from a normal six cylinder car! Sweet!)

A Little Poetic Justice

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Fri, 18 Apr 2008 16:33:00 +0000

I drive my daughter to school every morning, and the route I take happens to pass through a handful of school zones. I have always been very conscious of my speed while driving through school zones, but of late I have been particularly careful - Check out this accident that happened in front of another school in the Columbus area just the other day and I think you'll understand why. . .

Today was shaping up to be just another one of those commutes; I dutifully slowed to 20MPH through every speed zone and got my daughter to school with a clean conscious and time to spare. Things began to veer from the routine though as I started on my way out of the school parking lot after dropping her off . As I approached the end of the driveway I got there just in time for a parade of vehicles going by on the main road. They were traveling at what I guess to be 25 to 30 MPH. Obviously over the 20MPH limit of a school zone, but much to my consternation, about par for the course on this street. A large enough opening soon approached and I eased on to the street and accelerated to 20. . .

Apparently the woman driving the Lexus ESS YUU VEE I had just pulled in front of was displeased at my rate of travel as she devoured the distance between our vehicles in a hurry and stayed planted on my bumper. While the distance from the school driveway exit and the end of the school zone is only about a block and a half, I decided I should explain things a bit by holding up two fingers signifying "2" followed by the OK sign signifying "0" - The speed limit and the speed at which I was traveling. I did that a couple times, and then sped up as we left the school zone. I thought what would be enough to remind the tailgater behind me that the slower speed is expected between the signs with the flashing yellow lights, and that would be it.

I was wrong.

After the school zone was passed, I caught up to the parade of cars. Apparently someone had turned left and delayed things enough that me and the tailgater soon found ourselves bringing up the rear of a fairly long line of vehicles. So now we are going along with traffic, the Lexus grill is still looming large in my mirror, and we are approaching an intersection where the light is turning red.

Much to my relief, I want to go straight at the light, and she wants to go right. The right lane is a right turn only lane, and is backed up farther than the lane I'm in.

But folks are making rights on red and so she eventually pulls up next to me. I'm watching to see if she makes any indication that she had seen my "2" and "0" signs earlier, but fully expected nothing. By her reaction of putting both hands in her window showing two fingers on one and five on the other I would guess that she had seen my gestures. Unfortunately the fact that we were in the school zone was completely lost on her.

Anyway, now comes the best part, the justice I mentioned in the title.

As I was saying, she was in a right turn only lane - The traffic in front of her was moving fairly steadily as no oncoming traffic prevented safe turns on red. She rolled by, both hands and whole face in her window as I watched, chuckling at the absurdity of her seeming indignation. In disgust she whipped her hands back to the steering wheel, disappeared from my sight behind the door frame of the Lexus, and hit the gas. . . Right into the rear bumper of an old lady in her Mercedes waiting to turn right!

Oh. My. GOODNESS!!! I don't think I have ever seen something so exquisite! The light turned green and I started to head on my way. As I wanted to be sure the bump was minor, (it was) I went by slowly to check things out. My glance was rewarded with this statement, mouthed very obviously by the now very pissed off Lexus driver, "Thank you very much!" "See what you did!" I couldn't help but laugh. I waved cheerfully as I resumed my commute. . .

I think she could benefit from what John G Miller has to say. Then again, maybe I should revisit his book myself.

Where have you been?

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 22:20:00 +0000

Heh, well, I guess I must confess that I have been very distracted lately with a new toy. My kids gave me a Nintendo DS for my birthday last month, and I - as she will tell you - have made my long suffering wife a Video Game Widow. . . I just love Zelda games - and Phantom Hourglass has me hook, line, and sinker. . . *sigh*

And you, dear readers, have been without any word from yours truly for much too long.

Another confession. I can't blame my lack of blogging recently entirely on my new toy. The actual reason, I think, is that I have been filling up every spare Blog moment reading blogs rather than writing one. I made the mistake of finding a few two many interesting blogs that I just can't skip for fear of getting behind. And they are some very prolific blogs!

That's my story anyway, and I'll be sticking to it, Thank you very much . . .

Happy Easter!

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Sun, 23 Mar 2008 04:40:00 +0000

Happy Easter to all of you from all of us here at MRHTD!

"Working" Through School

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 23:19:00 +0000

My parents, who were older than most of the parents of my friends, didn't make much money. My mom was lunch lady at our grade school, and before he became disabled with Parkinson's disease, (Meaning he stopped driving - a decision he made on his own after pulling out in front of traffic, wrecking his nearly new car) my dad operated a one bay gas station and garage he co-owned with a guy who barely did anything at all. So raising two boys and putting us through Parochial school really took everything my parents had.

When I was in high school, my Aunt and Uncle needed someone to mow their lawn so my Mom volunteered me. I didn't mind to much really as I kind of enjoyed the chore at home, and besides, I would get paid for mowing this one. Soon neighbors of my aunt and uncle, appreciating the quick and quality work I did, started asking if I would mow their lawns too, and I readily agreed. At about this same time, my best friend had purchased a new Lawn Boy mower and was mowing lawns for some of the elderly neighbors in his neighborhood. His example showed me that such an investment made good business sense: His new mower had a bagging attachment and he would charge more to haul the grass clippings away. I wanted badly to follow suit. So my mom and dad invested what I realize now must have been a good chunk of their savings in my fledgling business to pay for a brand new Lawn Boy and a very beat up old truck to haul it around in. By the end of that first summer I had paid them back for both - a sum of about two thousand dollars. For the next few years I managed about a dozen lawns a week in the summer, hauled leaves away in the fall, and cleared snow in the winter.

When I graduated from high school I really had no idea if I would even go to college. I kicked around the idea of going to the Fire Academy to be a fire fighter, staying on with the landscaping firm for which I now worked as a salaried employee, or going to a trade school to learn auto mechanics. Finally I decided that college would be the best opportunity for me to land a job that didn't leave me tired and dirty after a day's work. I wanted a job where I showered before going, rather than after getting home.

Despite earning an honest to goodness salary and still mowing a few lawns on the side, when I started College there was no extra money to be had. We filled out the financial aid forms and soon I was attending the local public university on the government's dime. I made enough to pay for my books, gas, and any entertainment expenses, and even though I still lived with my parents, I thoroughly enjoyed my years at school. I spent my first several quarters exploring various fields of study, kinda following an engineering direction - Physics, Chemistry, Calculus - but eventually I settled on Photography. (Kind of a mix of chemistry, physics and art, if you think about it!) A decision that finally exposed me to subjects I had not thought about exploring before, and really taught me a lot about life - diversity, the arts, philosophy - and taught me that I could accomplish much more than I thought I could. College presented me with challenges that, perhaps for the first time in my life, I faced head on with determination and a "can do" attitude. I had a goal, and I pursued it with all the gusto of a hungry animal chasing it's prey.

Ironically I'm not now employed as a photographer in any way whatsoever. I'm in the IT department at my company, and very much enjoy interacting with the folks I help with their computer problems. I'm convinced that I wound up where I am because of the lessons I learned in college. Not the classes I paid for so much, but the lessons I learned as a young man starting to face the world on my own. The lessons of perseverance, of entrepreneurship, of diversity and tolerance, of freedom to do what I wanted yet choosing to better myself.

Like me, our Diamonds in the rough will be working through school - of this there can be no doubt. I hope they also come away as enriched as I did.

Bringing Home Baby

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 23:02:00 +0000

D1 just turned 17 the other day and as folks often do on such occasions, I found myself hitching a ride on the wayback machine: It was not one of those long and dream-like excursions through time though; it was more of a momentary flashback, but one in which the sensations were as real as any present waking moment. For a split second, as I passed through a certain place, every one of my senses was telling me it was 17 years ago, and we were bringing our new baby home for the first time. It was enough to stop me in my tracks.

I was simply walking by the laundry room on the way from the kitchen to the front of the house. As I often do, I glanced into that little room, and that’s when it happened. Expecting to see the closed door to the garage, instead I saw – and this is particularly interesting to me – heard, smelled and felt, too – all the same sights, sounds, smells and textures of the moment 17 years ago when my wife walked through that door carrying our newborn son.

The view was curiously cropped. Oh yes, I was filming the event and saw it though the viewfinder of a video camera. I can feel the camera in my hands, warm and smooth. My hand shakes a bit. There is a familiar smell – new construction – our house is only a few months older than D1. But not a smell we usually experience now. In the background there are still boxes in the garage, beyond the blue Honda that I just made room for in there so we would not have to have the baby out in the cold for long. There really are not many sounds; my wife said something like “We’re home - finally!” But I remember the silence most because for a fleeting second that silence I experienced all those years ago reminded me just how scared I was to be coming home to the house we just moved into with a baby that I believed I knew nothing about raising . . . It was a stark, cold, lonely feeling. I put down the camera and embraced my family. Then it was all instantly, awesomely, OK.

I walked on down the hall and found that D1 still has not taken his laundry hamper back up to his room.

Sigh.

PC Strobe?

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Sun, 06 Jan 2008 22:49:00 +0000

As I was showering this morning, It struck me that my blogger name - PC Strobe - may need some explaining. I think this because of the "PC" portion. It does not stand for Politically Correct. In fact, I've used this handle since my earliest online days when PC was simply short for "Personal Computer".

It was the mid to late Eighties, and "Online" meant one had dialed up a bulletin board to read and post messages. I guess this could be considered the earliest form of blogging. Any way, I would fire up the Atari 800, dial the local number of another Atari enthusiasts modem line and, at a blazing fast rate of 1200 baud, could upload posts, and read others postings. If I really wanted to tie up the line for a while I could even download programs!

So "PC" partly came from Personal Computer.

PC also happens to be part of a name for the connection between an SLR camera (and being the 80s these cameras took something called film - look it up if you are that young!) and a flash that's not mounted directly to the camera. ("PC cord" is what I always called it). And as you may know, a photographic flash is just a fancy strobe light.

So combining my two greatest interests at the time - and in a slightly punny way I thought - I came up with a character by the name of PC Strobe.

Occasionally this name takes on an odd (and unintentional) appropriateness: I feel like my "really good" thoughts are like the flash from a strobe light - Blinding in their impact, but gone in an instant. The only effect being the disorientation caused by the fleeting spots before ones eyes.

Happy Happy and Merry Merry

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 15:15:00 +0000

Merry Christmas to all, and wishing you a Happy New Year!

It's the day after Christmas and most everyone is still dozing after a long and busy Christmas day - Which is fine, everyone earned it!

This Christmas was made special by the fact that the whole family pitched in to get everything ready in time. (And by that I mean that our Diamonds in the Rough got a little more "polished" and really stepped up to help more than they ever have!) Best of all, despite the considerable time crush this year, there were no "ugly moments" when someone lost their temper; Everyone felt needed, special, appreciated, and loved!

After all, that's what Christmas is all about!

Never Go to Buy a Car Without Taking at Least One of These!

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Mon, 24 Dec 2007 05:05:00 +0000

Several years ago my wife and I bought a brand new car, and learned a valuable lesson in negotiation in the process. In this case the car was for me, so I spent considerable time researching the several brands, models, options, and even the dealerships in the area to narrow down the field. (I think I started the day after I bought my last new car about 5 or 6 years prior, maybe even a bit before.)

Once I was certain of what I wanted, It only took about an hour of blinking, staring, and swearing at my research to realize that our allotted budget was just not going to buy my ideal car.

Or would it?

Once I got over the sticker shock and calmed down, I started to think in cold factual terms. To start with, I had a pretty good idea what the dealer's cost for the car was based on my Internet research. I also had a pretty good idea of what the minimum acceptable price would be from the dealership I was targeting. Right there in black and white was our budgeted amount, and it was (by a hairs breadth!)between the two.

This could work!

Heartened, I continued to inventory my weapons. I had a $500.00 manufacturers coupon from my recent trip to the auto show, I had a trade in that was in very good shape and was a popular model on the resale market, I had a date when I could spend a very l o o o n g time negotiating, I had my wife to represent the impartial voice of reason (in case I lost my objectivity), and I had our two secret weapons: The dynamic duo of Tired and Hungry Toddlers D1 and D2!

Here's a rundown of how it went.

It's Friday, early evening. We arrive at the dealership about an hour or so before closing. We begin looking at examples of the model car I'm after. A salesman engages us. He looks like a nice guy. He talks like a human. I have a slight pang of guilt, but I push it aside (this is war after all, and we have engaged the enemy!)
"Do you like these?" he asks.
"Yes I do" I say, "But it looks like we'd have to go somewhere else or order one because I don't see any exactly like what I want."
(The toddlers are climbing in a nearby car, playing "driving". They are really having a blast.)
"Why don't you all come inside and tell me what you are looking for and I'll check the computer. We have some stock in the lot across the street."
"OK"
So we go inside - D1 and D2 are upset that they have to stop playing "driving". The salesman looks a bit relieved. Once we are inside and set up at the salesman's desk, with the kids sitting on our laps, I explain exactly what I want.
"Gee we don't have any that exactly match what you want. We do have one in that color that has leather, but has an automatic instead of a stick. - I'm sure I could make you a good deal."
"It has to have a stick" I say.
"OK - well here's one in black, they are really sharp"
(The kids are getting restless)
"I had a black car once. I will never, ever buy another black car. Period"
"Ohhhkaaaay" He hesitated, then asked anyway - "Why is that?"
"Can't keep them clean enough I say. Hard to take care of - paint swirls show up too easily. Plus they're hot"
(The kids are getting really restless, and want down, we let them.)
He looks through the computer inventory some more. "Oh, Um, let me check with my manager. I'll be right back."
(The kids begin fighting over who gets to sit in the salesman's now vacant chair so they can play "Office")
He comes back and we shoo the two very disappointed toddlers out of the way. (They go to an empty desk across the way and begin fighting over the chair there.)
"We just got some new inventory in, they're so new we don't have them entered in the system yet. Usually we're not allowed to sell them until we've had a chance to get them fully inventoried, but my manager says it will be OK." "We've sent someone out to the lot to check on what exactly we have, in the meantime can we check out your trade in?"
"Sure!" We head outside.
Our old car is immaculately clean, inside and out - even the engine was cleaned in anticipation of this moment. It's my turn to be the salesman. "The car has been serviced regularly in keeping with the suggested schedule in the owners manual." "All of the major servicing has been done by the dealer" I continue, "And as you can see there are very few surface blemishes."
"How about the brakes?" He asks.
"Less than half worn" I say. "The next thing it will need is tires"
As if he didn't hear what I just said he asks "What does the car need?" "Say your grandmother was going to by this car, what would you warn her about?"
"The tires are going to need replaced" He walks over and checks the tires - They still have some tread left.
"Are you sure that's all?"
"Yes." "I have the service records if you'd like to see them." I move to the car, open the door and start to open the glove box.
"Uh, no. . . That's OK" he says. I start to wonder if he wants the car for a child or perhaps himself. . . .
Another salesman comes up and says something to our salesman. "Shall we head back to my desk?"
"Ah, so you found one like I want then!" I say, feeling a little excitement building . . .
"No", "But I bet you haven't considered this color - it's brand new" We reach his desk and he shows me the new color in a brochure.
He was right there, it was a brand new color and I hadn't considered it.
"I'll have to see it." I say . . . He goes to get someone to bring the car into the service bay where we can get a good look. By now it's gotten dark, and the dealership has been officially closed for quite a while.
(The secret weapons are really making a fuss now. They are tired, hungry, and bored - they are fighting, whining, and generally being a pain in the butt. We are non-plussed.)
The car is brought in so we take a look. It looks awesome! "These lights make it hard to see the true color of the car" I say . .
The salesman lets out a sigh and seems to shrink in size a bit, but otherwise stoically continues his sell . ..
"These lights are more natural than most indoor lighting because we deliver a lot of cars to their new owners in here."
"Oh, OK . . . Let me take a closer look" It is totally what I wanted, well except for the color change . . .
"What do you think?"
"I think we can talk about terms on this one" I reply" He looks elated.
Back to the desk - the kids are just about to implode they are so done with this whole process . . .
"We can give you [really good price] for your trade."
Of course I say "That's all?" But my grin tells him I know it's a good price, so I don't pursue that any more.
"Now let me show you some of our financing options" I cut him off. "We're pre-approved with our bank."
"But I bet they didn't give you 1.9%!" He was right - I said, "Tell me more!"
We decide to use their financing - the kids are having a melt down on the floor.
"OK so the price is [sticker price], - your trade that's going to leave [ridiculous amount]"
"Nope - how about [dealer cost]?" He turns white. . .
"Sir, are you joking?"
"Not really." "We expect to have to go up from dealer cost, but it's a place to start isn't it" Now he's blushing and seems to be quite rattled. He keeps turning his attention to our darling little negotiation aids who are just this side of going into full tantrums.
He turns back to me and says "You realize we have to make some money on this deal." "Or we would go out of business."
"Yes - So knowing that there are likely manufacturer incentives and such, if we offer you [$500.00 over dealer cost] would that be enough?"
Again turning his attention back from our beautiful toddling distractions he says "Um, no." I can only go as low as [$500.00 more than my offer]"
I hem an haw a bit. I Look at my wife, but ignore the screaming, crying, kicking, and downright obnoxious pair of darling children having meltdowns just a few feet away. The desperate,- pleading really - look on his face told me this was the best he could do.
"I think we've reached a deal we can live with." I'm grinning from ear to ear as we shake on it.
Just then my wife pulls out the $500.00 auto-show coupon from the manufacturer,and handing it to the aghast salesman she says "Oh, take this off that bottom line would you please"? (I love her!)
"But you didn't tell me you had one of those!" he manages to stammer through his shock . . .
"It says right here - 'Take $500.00 off your best deal.'" You didn't think we would use this before we were sure we had gotten our best deal, do you?" she said sweetly. (I really love this woman - did I mention that?)
"OK, fine!" "Whatever!" "Yes" "Let's get this written up so we can all go home." (The secret weapons have worn themselves out, and crawl up into our laps and fall asleep. Perfect timing!)

Appreciating What We Have Before it's Lost

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 17:26:00 +0000

My wife has been laid up now for several weeks, having undergone ankle surgery to repair an injury to cartilage in the joint. The recovery for this surgery requires no weight bearing whatsoever! In lieu of crutches, she has a scooter-like cart on which she kneels with her bad leg, pushing with the good. Unfortunately the cart is heavy so she can not negotiate stairs on her own - someone must carry the cart for her.

This means she can not get to her car alone to drive anywhere. So I do all the driving: Our daughter to school and ballet, and she to the doctor and PT.

But it's been much more eye opening at home. Take cooking for example. So far I've managed not to poison anyone, but it's a lot harder than my wife makes it look. I just can't seem to get everything ready to eat at the same time. With her excellent direction though, my brother and I, acting as sous chefs, managed to produce a full menu for Thanksgiving Dinner - It was actually fun, but it also really hammered home how hard my wife works to put meals on our table.

Oh, and don't even get me started on laundry! Apparently I'm way to practical/stingy to properly separate the dirty laundry. I end up with too few loads every time. Thank goodness the kids have stepped up to help with that chore. Mom manages to sort out all the loads, and the kids (and even I, sometimes) manage to keep them moving from washer to dryer to hangers/baskets. . .

If I can stay awake long enough to do it, I must remember to give my wife an especially appreciative hug tonight.

I really love - and appreciate - that woman!

Happy Thanksgiving!

noreply@blogger.com (PC Strobe) — Thu, 22 Nov 2007 21:28:00 +0000

We just wrapped up our big holiday meal after a couple of very busy prep days and everything is right with the world! Our bellies are full, naps are underway, and visits with family were fun and over too soon.

We are truly blessed, and have much to be thankful for.

Here's hoping you can say the same!