Say What?

Veterans Day, 2009

2009-11-11T00:01:00.041-06:00

There are two times each year when I'm never more proud, in a humble sort of way if one can be just that. Our lead pastor at church takes time each year on Father's Day to ask all of the dads in the congregation to stand in recognition of their role as fathers. It's an incredibly meaningful moment for me. I may only be Rachel's step-dad but I stand because I'm both proud and blessed to be in her life and to be a father-figure to her. Pastor Bill also takes a few minutes each year around the time of Veterans Day to ask former and current members of the military to stand and be honored for their service. This is also a very proud moment for me although I don't feel that my service comes anywhere close to that of those who put their lives on the line in a dangerous combat environment. Still, I'm moved by the recognition.

Those of us who have never experienced the hardship of war and the tormenting damage it can do to the psyche can't possibly appreciate the sacrifice made on our behalf. But that shouldn't stop us from trying.

Stranger, by David Baerwald, Mp3 or Wma

brother at this moment
you ain't feeling any pain
and you're staring out the window
and it looks like rain
and you're a veteran and you know
about monkeys on the brain
you watched every dream you've had
lie broken in the drain
three hundred thousand men
all different all the same
three hundred thousand men
all different all the same
piled up like driftwood
in a pouring rain

hey stranger
ain't there nothing I can say
can you think of any way
that you can make it through the day
hey stranger
ain't there nothing I can do
you lost it all for me
there must be something I can do for you

a quarter of the country
is one paycheck from the street
a tenth of the country
has never had enough to eat
and one one hundredth of the country
is strangling all the rest
and every policeman on the street
is wearing a bulletproof vest
three hundred thousand men
all different all the same
three hundred thousand men
all different all the same
piled up like driftwood
in a pouring rain

hey stranger
ain't there nothing I can say
can you think of any way
that you can make it through the day
hey stranger
ain't there nothing I can do
you lost it all for me
there must be something I can do for you

Sunday Evening Musings

2009-11-08T23:50:00.042-06:00

I was checking out my Facebook Thursday morning as I contemplated whether or not I'd gotten out of bed too early after the all-night shift; it was going on 11:00. Before I could give it much thought I got a chat message request from a friend to go riding. That was definitely on my list of things to do but so soon? I needed to wake up first. Maybe it was the kick-start my day needed.

My riding for me has and I think always will be primarily a solo endeavor. I'd say I'm a bit unusual in that way because it seems most cyclists enjoy the company of others when they're out riding for hours at a stretch; maybe it's a safety in numbers thing. As for me, I don't mind spending time with myself and actually prefer it when I'm riding. I'm a loner at heart. I've done enough group rides to know that conversation with others isn't what works for me but rather, the solitude of the road; it's the main reason I'm out there. Still, an occasional break from my routine can be nice too.

Jay said he could be by in 30 minutes so I quickly checked the winds and forecast temp then hurried to grab a bite and get suited up. Southeast winds lend themselves to the Hampton Loop which is the way we went. I didn't know what Jay was up for but I think the 45 miles we did may have been about 10-15 more than he was fueled for.

I'll never take a sunny day for granted again after the stretch of cloudy, rainy weather we've experienced for too many weeks of late. It was so nice to be out and I considered adding another hour to the ride but I didn't want to push it since I'm still recovering from 'the bug'.

We had some visitors Thursday night. Two Mormon missionaries had come by our house earlier in the week when Tammy didn't have time to sit down with them so she invited them back. She likes to engage them about their beliefs and I think a part of her feels bad at all the rejection they must experience door after door. We had a nice discussion and after all was said we agreed that neither of us was likely to sway the other about what we believe but we enjoyed our time together.

I took advantage of some unseasonably warm weather to put up our outdoor Christmas lights on Friday. Rachel asked me earlier in the week if I was putting lights up this year and that she was hoping I would. There's no way I'd disappoint her as this will be her last Christmas living at home before leaving for college. I have a feeling I'll still be hanging up outdoor lights next year and the years after that too for when she comes to stay with us during her break from school. And someday when Tammy and I are grandparents and I'm not keen on climbing the ladder anymore I think I'll still find a way to keep the tradition alive even if I have to pay one of the neighbor kids.

I hurried through a bunch of yard work yesterday morning so I could get back out on my bike for most of the afternoon. I had another request from Jay to ride with a couple other guys but I took a pass in favor of my fix of solitude. With the winds out of the west I headed toward Shakopee and figured I'd decide when I got there which way to go. I tracked toward the northwest with thoughts of St. Bonifacious running through my head but I didn't see how I could do it with the sun setting at 4:56. I set my sights on Victoria instead. A quick stop for fuel there and I was back on the road.

A few miles out of Victoria I spotted another rider off in the distance and the chase was on. It's a thing we bikers do and we pretty much all do it. I caught him climbing a hill just north of highway 10 and we struck up a conversation. My first words when I catch somebody are usually, "where you headed?" We then typically share where we're from and maybe discuss bikes and equipment...small talk. Depending on how much speed difference there is between us I'll sometimes ride together for a bit before being on my way. John was keeping a similar pace (I had to work to catch him) so we rode together for ten miles before our paths diverged.

During my time with John I'd committed myself to extending my ride through Jordan rather than taking a more direct route home. I'd use up most of what was left of daylight and have to hustle to make the 5:00 service at Hosanna. Tammy was still in her office and would be until 7:30 doing her telephone triage nursing so I'd be going alone. H1N1 calls are dominating her days lately.

A few miles from home I got a text message from Rachel saying she was having a good time at the senior-high retreat (put together by Hosanna) near Alexandria a few hours to the northwest. I wouldn't get a chance to respond to her message until I got seated at church more than a half hour later after I'd had a chance to shower and change clothes.

71 miles later the pups met me at the back door and I gave them a couple minutes to lick the salt off my face. It's a treat they look forward to. I know...what a treat! It's a part of our routine. Toby and Allie lick while Charlie bites at my hands. I felt bad for them because they'd been on their own pretty much the entire day and I was about to leave them again. I'd make it up to them later with some lap time while Tammy and I watched a movie.

I poked my head in Tammy's office to see if she was interested in going out to dinner later. She suggested T.G.I. Friday's. I liked the way she was thinking.

Finally, after a very full day we were relaxing in the restaurant, having a burger and a glass of wine while I recalled my day for the lovely Mrs Gilmore. I had been going since the minute I woke up and I don't think I realized that until I recounted it for her. I love days like that.

I wish I had taken a photo of Tammy while we were there so I could include it here but all I had with me was my cellphone camera. Not good enough. I'm getting some flak from a couple guys at work who say there's a disproportionate number of photos of Rachel compared to Tammy in my blog...and they're right. All I can say in my defense is that Tammy is one of those who shudders at the shutter. Okay, that may be a bit strong but she doesn't really like her photo being taken and I respect that. Rachel on the other hand couldn't care less. Anything to please the love(s) of my life.

Apologetics, Not an Apology

2009-11-02T22:04:00.029-06:00

There are way too many sick people at work to avoid catching this junk that's going around and it finally caught up with me last week. I'm still sneezing and hacking but it could be worse. I'm not sure if that's because of the zinc tablets I'm taking but I'd like to think I'm not wasting my money on them. Don't get too close to this post; I don't want you to catch it.

I took a couple sick-days from the salt mine last week and used the time to resume work on the stained glass project that I'd put away when the weather turned warm last spring. We're so close to finishing it that I think another 8-10 hours should be all we need. I'd really like to get the entire project completed this winter. We've got some neighbors who would like us to do some work for them but I don't want to take on anything until these six panels are done. Here's what a completed panel looks like and here's where I was with the current one as of a few days ago. We're quite a bit further along now. If all goes well I'll have it hung by weeks end.

These windows are going above the entertainment center in our basement. Here's a link to a video I made last spring that shows the project in more detail.

Christian Apologetics is the science or art of defending the Christian faith. So many of us who call ourselves Christians readily gloss over some of the more difficult realities of our faith; myself included. I recently finished reading a book titled Letters from a Skeptic by Dr. Gregory Boyd and Edward Boyd. Greg is a Christian theologian and Ed, his father, is a cynical skeptic of the Christian faith. The book is a series of letters the two exchanged over the course of a couple years whereby Ed posed some very difficult questions to his son about Christianity followed by Greg's responses.

Some of the titles of letters his father posed to his son in the book are:
Why has Christianity done so much harm?
Why is the world so full of suffering?
Why does God create earthquakes and famines?
Why did God create Satan?
Why didn't God spare your mother?
Aren't the Gospels full of contradictions?
Why are there so many differing interpretations of the Bible?
How could an all-loving God torture people in an eternal hell?

Ed would form his questions with an honesty that left no room for Greg to misunderstand his father's intent. To give you an idea of how the book reads, below is an excerpt from one of those letters titled, Why does God make believing in Him so difficult?

Why does God put us in a position where we have to try to believe in Him? Why does He toy with mankind, teasing us with evidence that's good enough to make us uncomfortable, but never coming out directly and making Himself clear? what's so great about "faith" that He desires it above an obvious revelation of Himself? And when He does reveal Himself---supposedly in the Bible---He does so many damn bizarre things that no one who wasn't there to see it can be expected to believe it. Yet "salvation" supposedly hangs on this! Why do people have to believe things and accept stories that they'd never accept under ordinary circumstances in order to be saved? This isn't exactly fair.

So if I want to avoid hell, I presumably have to believe that a snake talked to Eve, that a virgin got pregnant from God, that a whale swallowed a prophet, that the Red Sea was parted and all sorts of other crazy things. Well, if God wants me so bad, Greg, why does He make believing in Him so damn impossible? He gives an evidence here, an evidence there---enough to get us wondering---but then He throws in these other bizarre things which we can't possibly be expected to take seriously! If there were only the evidence, or only the crazy stuff, I'd have no problem. But combined, it's most aggravating.

It seems to me that an all-powerful God could do a much better job of convincing people of His existence than any evangelist ever does, and even better than all your arguments do. Hell, just write it across the sky, nice and big: "Here's you're proof, Ed. Believe in Me or go to hell! Sincerely, the Almighty." You wouldn't have to spend an afternoon arguing history to me. I'd be on my knees.

I suppose it's for the better, but the more convincing you sound, the more ticked off I seem to get. And I've found myself recently thinking about all this material too much, which means I walk around here in a state of frustration. I don't have a clue as to what you could do about this. Maybe tell your "Spirit" who is supposedly quietly chipping away in my heart to come out of the dark and write in the clouds! Short of that, I think I'm destined to be an intrigued but frustrated skeptic, and your optimism about me is doomed to disappointment.

Sincerely yours,

Dad

Sometimes I'd actually find myself oddly amused at Ed's frustration; he reminded me a bit of my own father. His questions were well thought out and while I may have at times been strangely entertained by Ed's straight-to-the-point cynicism, I couldn't help but be sympathetic toward him as well. Just when I thought he couldn't possibly pen a more difficult scenario for his son to explain away, he does just that. Very pointed questions which Greg would speak directly to in his responses. Rather than write his answer to his father here for you to read, I'll encourage you to pick up the book and read it there with the rest of the dialog. There's also a story within the story of his father's struggle to find anything meaningful in his son's faith. I promise you that you'll find the book enlightening and worth every minute of your time. Link to the book at Amazon.

I saw Greg speak at our church earlier this year at a Men's Breakfast and he'll be back to talk with us again in December. I'm looking forward to it.

Greg isn't well liked by many in the Fundamentalist Christian arena. Watch this video where Greg appears at 2:07. He marches to his own beat and there's something about it that is very appealing to me, but then, I've been accused of being on a different wavelength from the norm myself a time or two.

Learning from NWA188

2009-10-29T20:05:00.028-05:00

The Northwest flight (NWA188) that missed its mark and overshot MSP airport last week continues to be in the news. I still can't get over how both pilots could disassociate themselves from the task at hand to the degree they did, especially considering that in a job such as piloting an aircraft, multitasking is a necessary ability. The pilots have lost their licenses and have been suspended and now the focus has turned to the FAA and why we were so slow in notifying the military of the situation.

My coworker, Tim, does a much better job of filling in the details than I will with this post and he brings up an important matter that nobody appears to be talking about; fuel load. I'm going to take this in a different direction.

There's a bit of disinformation in the news today with respect to who failed to notify the military as our protocols require. You'll likely hear that 'controllers' failed to do this when in fact controllers did everything they should have. When it became apparent that the flight was no longer responding to radio calls, controllers notified management. In situations such as this a controller will ask the supervisor in the area to contact the flight's operations desk and give them a message to call us on a radio frequency we provide them with; it's a common occurrence. Other times a controller may ask a company flight on frequency if they can send a message to their dispatch via a data link and have them contact us. We can usually reestablish communications in just a few minutes. Once a controller has notified the supervisor there isn't much else to do or that needs to be done from in front of the radar scope. We simply wait for the flight to call.

I'm not sure how far along NWA188 got before the military was finally notified but based on what I'm hearing in the media it was much later than it should have been. I've heard the flight was silent for as long as 91 minutes. That's a long time by any measure. In our post 9/11 world we've established procedures to allow us to be much more proactive in situations such as this. For whatever reasons it appears we fumbled this one quite badly.

What will we as controllers and management learn from this? Plenty I hope.

Switching gears just a bit here.

We occasionally get Quality Assurance briefings at work where they play for us on fancy new projectors mounted from the ceiling receiving data from a laptop at the podium, audio and radar data of close calls (separation errors) in hopes that we can learn from them. Sure, we can all take something away from these situations but the problem I have with the way they're conducted is that management uses errors of our coworkers much to the humiliation of the controller involved. Figuring out who the controller is isn't difficult as their voice isn't distorted. It's embarrassing to the individual and it's entirely the wrong way to go about it. We could just as easily use events from other facilities around the country where the person involved would be anonymous to us but we don't.

After our last QA briefing I talked with the manager who presented it and asked him why it is he doesn't use anonymous events from similar facilities rather than embarrassing my fellow controllers? He responded by saying that if he were to tell me he'd run a stop sign on the way into work it would have more of an impact on me than had he told me of somebody who I didn't know running a stop sign. Huh? No, I don't think so; besides, we're not talking about running stop signs. He implied in our short talk that he had no intention of changing the way he conducts his briefings. I told him I disagreed with his approach and left it at that. What more could be done or said? It's his call. He's one of our better managers actually in my opinion but his logic here left me bewildered.

Management has little to fear from being embarrassed like the rest of us in a QA briefing because their time in the sector is extremely limited and it's nearly always when there's little to no traffic. Their chances of getting two together are very remote.

This latest incident with NWA188 raises an interesting question for me. Will QA brief us on how management should have handled this event better? Will they talk about distractions that may have played a role in their lack of attention to a serious matter? Will QA talk about what management should have been doing while NWA188 flew over the top of MSP at 37,000 feet totally bypassing their destination with the military none the wiser? I'm curious to see how this is handled.

To ignore this episode and managements' role in it in future briefings will speak very loudly indeed. Maybe now QA will have a better understanding of my concern when it's managements' actions that are being scrutinized before a roomful of people; except, this time it's much more than a roomful of people.

David Crowder Concert, NWA188 and Photo Review

2009-10-25T13:45:00.038-05:00

I got up from laying down after the all night shift Thursday morning and figured I'd better get a ride in while I could because the forecast wasn't looking so good. The temp was just above 40 with a northeast wind steady at 15 mph under overcast skies. 40 degrees is very reasonable cycling weather but the key is to be somewhat chilled when you start out. Being warm and toasty at the beginning leads to being sweaty, cold and clammy before the ride is over. While putting air in my tires before leaving I could tell that I needed a lighter top layer. I'm glad I made the switch.

I loved the ride and would like to have gone further but David Crowder was playing at our church and I didn't want to be late getting in line for some good seats as it was general admission. I considered a quick detour by Hosanna on the way home to get a pic of their tour bus but I figured I should really act my age.

The concert was worth every penny and better than any of the other times we'd seen them. I don't know that Hosanna has ever been rocked quite like that. Tammy and I got seats maybe ten rows back from center stage while Rachel and some friends camped out in front of the stage.

It's not uncommon for people at our church and churches similar to ours to lift their hands in praise while worshiping. I just wish they wouldn't do it during concerts; especially if they're really tall to begin with because it makes it especially difficult to see anything other than them and that's not what we were there for. I was intent on getting some decent video so I jumped into the same row as the tall guy with long arms where there were a couple empty seats and found a clear view. We'd all be standing until the concert was over and I was fine with that. I expected it.

My cellphone vibrated to life mid-way through the show. It was Rachel texting me to say, "I go to church here :)". I love that she has such a connection with Hosanna. It's an important part of her life and we're thankful for that.

I got some good video as I'd hoped for (although a little shaky at times) and uploaded it to our YouTube account. Here's a link to a playlist of it.

I can't remember a rainier stretch of weather than the one we've been in for the last few weeks. The sun was out for most of the day yesterday and it was really nice to be out under it. I got up and went about my usual routine; feed the pups; let 'em out; make breakfast (something substantial for what was going to be a busy day); check my email then load the pups into the back of Tammy's Forrester and head to the dog park. They haven't been to the park for a few days with all the rain we've had so I knew I had to take advantage of the clear skies for their sake.

They were so happy to be there. It's funny...Toby has this thing he does with me whenever we're on a walk. He'll pause and look back at me and wait while I catch up to him, then I lean over so he can jump up and lick my face. As soon as he does it he runs forward to continue his walk. It's the sweetest thing. I get at least one kiss each walk and often times, two. I love that little guy.

I spent most of yesterday raking leaves. The job only gets bigger each year as trees grow and drop even more leaves. It was nice that most of my neighbors were out doing the same thing which will reduce the number of leaves that migrate with the wind into our yard. In splendid geek fashion; before and after.

While I was out raking I noticed a couple neighbors up the street talking; Dave and Tom. They're both pilots for Northwest/Delta and I wondered what their thoughts were on the recent news story about NWA188 and its loss of radio contact with controllers and subsequent overflying its destination of Minneapolis. As Dave said, "stranger things have happened". I'm sure he's right but I'm hard-pressed to think of one. Tom mentioned that the NTSB most certainly jumped the gun when they went after the Cockpit Voice Recorder (CVR). The only time that data from the CVR is reviewed is in the case of an accident and not for punitive reasons. There's a reason it works that way and that is to ensure that the CVR remains operational at all times in case there ever is a need to review it. Pilots have the ability to disable the device and once you begin to use its data for anything other than accident reconstruction you risk not having the data when you need it most. Besides, details recorded on the CVR are written over every 30 minutes so whatever the NTSB finds will be of little value with respect to what led up to the pilots' distraction.

The pilots are pretty emphatic that they weren't sleeping but I'm having a difficult time imagining any other scenario to explain what happened. We lose aircraft on frequency all the time but seldom is it ever an issue where we can't find a way to get them a message about what frequency to contact us on with a phone call to their dispatch.

At least we're getting a break from Balloon Boy and his nutty professor father.

Rachel got her senior photo proofs back. Laurie did a great job photoing Rachel; she/we couldn't be happier. There are nearly 200 photos to select from so Tammy had an idea that we'd each pick our ten favorites and go from there; a process of elimination. So far so good. Here's my favorite. I had no idea that so much effort (or money) went into senior photos but then I never had mine taken...or went to Homecoming or Prom or...I wonder how it was that I ever graduated now that I think of it?

The Need for Greed

2009-10-22T06:52:00.012-05:00

David Crowder, How He Loves ...Mp3 or Wma

We've kept a couple kennels set up in our home to use for Charlie when we're away for extended periods but no more. I brought them out to the garage last night to store them as Charlie has graduated to full house privileges. Something finally clicked with the potty training for him a few weeks ago and he gets it.

Believe it or not, it actually took me a few months to fully warm up to this little guy. I'm sure it was because I felt I was slighting Toby and Allie by doing so but he's really won me over; how could he not? He's a sweetheart but he's also a scrapper. When Toby gets tough with him as he still does occasionally, Charlie gives it right back. But for the other 23 hours and 59 minutes out of the day they're fine.

His big thing lately is to carry his food bowl around and play with it. He's often at my side with a ball or stuffed animal in his mouth tempting me to try and get it from him...typical puppy stuff. He also likes to bite the palm of my hand and bite it hard. Jackie (my sister) says that's how he shows affection. Without question he's the goofiest dog I've ever seen. Charlie then and now.

[rant] I posted this link to my Facebook page last night. No doubt talk radio will be all over this about how it's purely class envy on the part of Democrats and another step toward Socialism. Whatever; call me a Socialist. So long as these corporations are taking government handouts (money from me) to enrich those who have failed their companies most, I'm all for this sort of intervention.

When I used to listen to Rush he'd often talk about our economy and how it's not a zero sum game. In some respects he's right but when you're talking about the fiscal integrity of a company he's absolutely wrong. Obscene salaries and bonuses to the few at the top come at the expense of workers who made it all possible. Somewhere along the way we've become desensitized to the degree that greed has taken over. We've become numb to the point where we stand by and watch as those at the top are rewarded for running their companies into the ground. How did we get to this point?

What's most troubling when listening to guys like Limbaugh and Hannity is that they appear to have millions of listeners who are fine with the idea that greed is an acceptable byproduct of capitalism and that there's nothing wrong with it. Where is the shame?

We're all in this together. I pray that one day we'll begin to live our lives in a way which reflects that ideal. [/rant]

I've been using AVG anti-virus protection for the last two years but my license recently expired and I was going without. I considered going back to the free version of AVG but I hadn't gotten around to downloading it. I noticed a link my brother placed on his Facebook page about Avast and their free version of anti-virus protection so I opted for it instead. The biggest difference I've noticed is how much less time it takes my computer to boot-up now than it did when AVG was doing its thing in the background. I'm not sure that's necessarily a good thing.

I'm happy to say that I've done several workouts on our Concept 2 rowing machine in the last week and I've got no tendinitis issues to show for it. That's not to say that I don't still feel a twinge of pain in my right forearm on occasion but I can definitely say that my time on the rower hasn't aggravated it. I've been disappointed that I haven't been able to use it much since buying it back in January but I'm hoping that with my new understanding of proper form I'll be able to spend a lot more time on it especially since winter is on the way and I'll be doing more indoor workouts.

I managed a 37 mile ride after work Tuesday afternoon. I hurried home and got suited up as quick as I could but didn't get on the road until just before 4:00. My Edge 705 told me I had around two and a half hours of daylight to work with...if the skies weren't so dark. The low overcast and on and off drizzle made it appear much darker than it was. I was seriously concerned the last half hour out there as I had no lights and thick clouds were blocking out what little sunlight was left.

I picked up a nice draft off a semi at Cedar Avenue nearing the end of my ride. He pulled away and I tucked in behind for as long as my legs would allow. I finally fell away climbing the 5% grade hill just west of Cedar at 31 mph. Had we been on the flats and the truck accelerating at the rate he was I know I could've easily stayed with him well past 40 mph.

I hope nobody was on this ship during this test.

David Crowder Band tonight!

Seeing More Clearly and a Picture Perfect Day

2009-10-18T20:47:00.010-05:00

David Crowder, In the End ...Mp3 or Wma

I've been struggling to see things as I should at work for longer than I care to admit and no, I'm not inferring that I'm now agreeing with FAA management. I'm talking about my vision. When I was 43 my vision began to suffer the affects of Presbyopia to the point that I could no longer read a newspaper without holding it at a ridiculous length; something longer than my arms would allow for. I got my first pair of progressive lenses/glasses soon after. Previous generations called them bifocals. Mine were actually trifocals with no lines to distinguish the varying strengths. Over the years I've had my prescription strengthened a number of times and I could tell I was due again, or in this case, overdue.

Being an instructor at work requires me to position myself several feet from the radar scope (behind my trainee) where, depending on the size of the data-tags (their size varies with a controller's preference) it can require extra effort on my part to see them clearly. I was noticing this more so in the last few weeks and so I took advantage of Thursday's lousy weather to make an appointment for an eye exam. It just so happens that Tammy's sister, Theresa, works in the lab at a local eyeglass shop and she personally ground the lenses for me. I know they're done right. I was told they'd take a week to process but Theresa called yesterday afternoon to let me know that they were ready. I'm wearing them as I type this and yes, they feel very nice and stronger than what I've been using.

My riding has been very hit and miss lately; mostly miss. I headed out Friday in mid 40's weather under partly sunny skies with little wind. It was a beautiful day to be out. I'd planned to do a quick 30 mile loop but when it came time to make the turn north on to County Road 11 my second thoughts took over and I pressed on to the east while putting together in my head an entirely different route than what I'd intended to ride, one that would take most of the afternoon. I continued east and picked up Highway 3 and rode that north toward St Paul.

I took advantage of a nice draft for a couple miles behind a tractor as he made his way through West St Paul along what would be the busiest stretch of traffic I'd encounter all day. There's no shoulder here so I was fine with tucking in behind him and following in his wake. My only concern was reacting soon enough to any potholes that were being obscured.

I considered going across the Minnesota River into downtown St Paul and over to Minneapolis but I opted for the less traveled route along the south side of the river. Before too long I was making my way along the river bottoms in Eagan and considering extending my ride into Prior Lake. It didn't take much consideration...Prior Lake it would be.

Somewhere along the way clouds took over and I spent the last ten miles in a light drizzle. I arrived home with 63 miles total and a very satisfied feeling in my legs. I really needed that.

Rachel finally got together with Laurie and Dave Phillips Saturday morning for her senior photo session. Dave is also an air traffic controller who I recently mentioned in my blog for his help with our garage project. His wife is a photographer and it was decided years ago that she would be the one to take Rachel's senior photos when the time came. It dawned on me one day last week that Ritter Farm Park (where we've been walking the pups) would maybe make for some nice scenery for her photos so Laurie and Dave met us there. The three of them went about taking photos while I walked the pups.

After the park they drove into Minneapolis for some photos at Minnehaha Falls and Ford Dam; talk about going the extra mile. They spent nearly five hours together. We were concerned that the weather wasn't going to cooperate and she was running out of time to have them taken. In the end it was definitely worth the wait.

Here's a link to a few photos I took of her while at the park.

And here's some video of the pups at the park from Friday and Saturday.

Earning Some Down Time

2009-10-11T23:45:00.004-05:00

David Crowder, All Around Me ...Mp3 or Wma

I've been accused of neglecting my blog and I suppose there's some truth in that. It hasn't been for a lack of things to write about or lack of interest but rather, a lack of time. I get a bit of an anxious feeling when I haven't written in several days. Maybe it's a form of withdrawal.

Sometimes a blog piece flows out of me and pretty much writes itself. Other times it's not so easy; especially those times when I'm conflicted about an issue. Such was the case last year in my posts leading up to the election.

I searched my soul a lot during that time as I was contemplating the presidential election and my decision to vote for Obama. Speaking of that decision; do I have any regrets about it? No. I've learned not to put my faith in politicians just as I learned long ago never to bet on the Vikings in a must-win situation. Am I disappointed with Obama and decisions he's making? Yes, a little. But, unlike so many on the right, I'm willing to give the guy a chance rather than disparage and dismiss him so quickly.

It was a curious announcement last week by the Norwegian Parliament of their decision to award the Nobel Peace Prize to Barack Obama. A better choice may have been to give it to the American people.

I got up from my overnight shift Thursday morning and headed out into the yard to begin the all day task of pulling up and cutting back our flowering plants. Just as in years past the job amounted to three truck loads for the compost site ten miles to the east. It's not something I look forward to doing but it always feels nice to have it done. Toward the end of the day I walked up our front walk past the now empty flower garden and noticed a lone bumblebee zigging and zagging in a futile search for flowering life to sustain it. Just a couple weeks ago Tammy brought me out to show me all the bumblebees in the garden and how some of them were so loaded down with pollen that they had a difficult time negotiating the path from one flower to the next. I honestly felt bad for the straggler.

Another thing I've been neglecting lately is maintenance on my bikes. I made a vow to myself a couple months ago that I wouldn't overhaul them again until I could do it in the comfort of our newly finished garage. That time finally came Friday night when I was able to spend a few hours hours enjoying my new digs. This sort of time for me is very relaxing and I suppose you could almost call it therapeutic. No pressures whatsoever. Tammy was working in her office but the pups came out and kept me company for a while. They'd get bored before too long and make their way up the steps by the back door. That was the signal that they wanted back in the house.

I've de-cluttered the space about as much as I can. That was high on my list of goals when I started imagining what the final result would be. The cabinets Keith made provide us with quite a bit more storage space than we had before. I regret that I didn't take some 'before' photos for comparison.

I spent a few hours out there last night finishing work on my bike and hanging our extension ladder above the garage door. Hanging the ladder was a simple job but it nearly turned ugly. I was standing on a stepladder drilling one of two hangers into a stud above the door with my other hand on the garage door spring for leverage. I've been told that garage door springs carry a lot of tension and I can now confirm that it's a fact because the spring broke while my hand was resting on it. (You can see the broken spring toward the bottom of this photo) Fortunately for me the piece my hand was holding on to was the much smaller of the two sections after the break. The other side went through a violent unwinding and I didn't fully appreciate what was happening until it was over. Thanks to a sticker on the garage door I was able to call for service and have someone out to fix it this morning for $189. It was a quick fix and the guy was in and out in not much more than 15 minutes.

Rachel is the last of her friends to have her senior pictures taken; they need to be in by the 30th for entry into the yearbook. She had a date scheduled last weekend but it was rainy so they rescheduled for yesterday morning. The plan has been to take some outdoor photos with fall colors but with a temp in the low 30s they decided to reschedule again for the middle of this week. That too is looking iffy at this point. The photographer is concerned about what the cold air will do to her skin tones.

Not to worry though because she had her photo taken during registration for her school I.D. card. She and her friend Trina went dressed up in '80s workout clothes. I say keep the money we'll pay for senior photos and use the one she's already got. It sounds like a reasonable dare to me.

Homecoming and Another Project Completed

2009-10-05T18:52:00.022-05:00

David Crowder, Shadows ....Mp3 or Wma

I was finally able to get our website moved over to the new host service at GoDaddy. I think I'll take a pass on resellers for web space in the future. The only casualty in the move was my other blog detailing our basement remodeling project from five years ago. I forgot that I'd used my website to host the data and it was lost when the switchover occurred. Fortunately, I was able to resurrect it with archived data on Blogger. It lives on. It was ranking highly on searches for basement makeovers so I'd like to leave it out there.

Last weekend was Homecoming for Rachel's high school, Lakeville North. It's a time for her to use her artistic talents as she decorates her Homecoming pants. I've no doubt she has at least 30 hours of work into these and it shows with all the detail. I'll never forget years ago after she finished her pants and put them on to model them for me. I got to looking at them and down the back of her legs she'd written 'Pathers Rule' rather than 'Panthers Rule'. She was able to fit the 'n' in and roll with it. They still looked great.

She'd intended to go to the Homecoming dance with Josh but they broke up last August. A guy from her Mock Trial group asked her instead. She enjoyed the time out with Tom and her group of friends but I think she's enjoying her singleness for now. Photos. The photo session was a bit over-the-top but I was happy to go along and watch. I think I was more interested in watching the parents do their thing trying to capture the perfect shot.

If you clicked on the music link at the beginning of this post you've been listening to the latest from David Crowder. His music is Christian oriented and for me it's some of the best new stuff out there. We've seen him and his band three times and will be seeing them again later this month at of all places, our church.

We're now happily working under our new contract at work. The pay raises won't kick in until after the new year but all other aspects of the contract are in play. I came back to work yesterday and it was nice to see my coworkers comfortably plying their trade in jeans and tennis shoes. With the imposed work rules we'd been operating under the past three years management said we needed to dress business casual so as not to erode public confidence. The only erosion of public confidence if anybody was paying attention was with respect to those leading our agency (with the exception of Obama's appointees) and the distractions they were creating. But hey, they're dressed nicely.

Keith and Dave came by last Friday and installed cabinets in our garage. It was an all day job that included some electrical work. Dave (also an air traffic controller) did the electrical. I couldn't be happier with the job Keith did putting these together.

Finishing our garage wasn't on our 'to do' list this year but was inspired by a trip to Sears for a Father's Day present...a rolling tool chest. While back in the tool department I got to looking at examples of finished garages and thoughts of something similar for our garage began to fill my head. I spent some time with Keith and gave him what ideas I had and let him expand on them. The project has been a few months in the making and for the most part is now complete. All that's left is the tweaking and that could take years of hanging out in the garage. I don't know that the job is actually ever finished.

Roll the video.

Saturday Musings

2009-09-26T12:51:00.000-05:00

For the past two weeks I've been trying to politely work with my web-host provider but all of my niceness has gotten me nowhere. The support tickets I've submitted to move the transfer along have been ignored. They've got me over a barrel in that the 'who is' contact information is listed as them rather than me. I never noticed this until now and it may seem like a small detail but when transferring a domain it's vital that the information is that of the domain owner for the process to go through. They're the only ones who can correct it.

The web-host service is Myacen located in Perth, Australia and they're a reseller for a larger company called Enom located in the US. My frustration led me to contact Enom to see if there was any pressure they could bring to bear on Myacen to get them to work with me. It may be working. I'm not out of the woods yet but it appears the prairie grass is coming into view. Enom has the ability to make the necessary changes on their end if Myacen doesn't comply. There are waiting periods involved but at least I'm not dead in the water.

My website is down for now as are a bunch of links in my blog but hopefully I'll have them all back within a few days.

I would've thought that 6 and half years of my loyal support and me bringing Myacen two other clients would be enough for them to allow me to leave on friendly terms. What a way to run a business.

Speaking of running a business; we Federal Aviation Administration air traffic controllers (you know...the ones who put their careers on the line each time we belly-up to a sector) have ratified a new contract which will go into effect next Thursday, October 1st. It won overwhelmingly with 97% of us voting in favor of ratification. We'll once again be receiving the pay raises that management has been denying us but not denying themselves. Also, we'll once again have a grievance process in place where rogue managers/supervisors won't be allowed to trample over good people undeterred. It's been an arduous journey to get to where we are. This fight we've been forced to wage has done nothing but create a workforce distrustful and disrespectful of management. Again I say, what a way to run a business. (We're not really a business but FAA management likes to say we are. Truth be told, we're a service organization and we have users, not customers.)

I forgot to mention a movie that Tammy and I watched a couple weeks ago called Taking Chance. It's based on true events about a Marine Private who was killed in Iraq and the officer who accompanies his body home. I have to admit that I was ignorant about all that goes into bringing a fallen soldier home and the reverence displayed along the way by those involved. Rent it, you won't be sorry you did.

I recently learned from a friend at work of another park where we can take our pups to walk them; thank you Nick. It's Ritter Farm Park and it's just a few miles from home. I had no idea the park existed. It's not only bigger and nicer than where we've been taking them but it's also free. The only downside for the pups is that there are fewer other dogs to interact with along the way. The park has miles of trails just like the photo to the right. Tammy and I took them out for a 3 mile loop the other day. The other park we take them to is also nice but not nearly as scenic as Ritter or as hilly. The fact that it's half the distance from home sort of makes this a no-brainer for me when it's time to choose a park to take them to.

Charlie turns one year old this coming Tuesday. And to think, he was only supposed to stay for the weekend. He's a Gilmore now and he's pretty much got full run of the house 24/7. We've had no messes from him for nearly two weeks so I think we can officially certify him as housebroken. That was a much more difficult job than we were prepared for. We affectionately refer to him as our 'puppy mill' dog because he's a bit daffy at times. He's got this new thing he does where he quickly backs up when you chase him and he reminds me of a crayfish. Watch the video to see what I mean.

Earning My Stripes

2009-09-22T21:53:00.009-05:00

This is a continuation of a series of posts I've been adding to about my early years, post high school and entering the Navy. The first of those entries can be found here. The most recent is here.

Shipboard life in port in San Diego was probably as good a duty as I could've hoped for. I was the junior sailor in our division for my first several months on-board which meant that I was the go-to guy for whatever working parties there may have been. A working party is where each division sends one man (the junior guy) to help out with whatever grunt work needs to be done. It's typically an hour or two detail but sometimes it can be one which lasts for days.

One of the first times I was assigned to a detail I was part of a painting crew. We spray painted several compartments throughout the ship and I'm quite certain we took very few precautions to protect ourselves from paint fumes. They gave us surgical masks which were pretty much useless. It was miserable duty that took the better part of a week.

I got along with everyone except for one other Radarman, Pete Alford. Pete was a 3rd class who had maybe 12-18 months more time in the Navy than I did. Pete was black and I was the privileged white kid; or so I felt he looked at me that way. He was quite proud of his crow and his perceived power over me. Maybe it was just a hazing Pete was subjecting me to. If it was he was the only one participating. It would take time but I'd eventually gain his respect...or maybe he simply got bored messing with me.

It was Pete's negligee he'd bought for his wife that I wore as part of the beauty contest crossing the equator.

I located Pete years later in Plano, TX and gave him a call to see how his life was going. He told me how he'd recently worked for Senator Alan Cranston and that he was studying for his law degree. That was the last time we spoke, some 25 years ago. Pete; if you're out there, drop me a line...it's all good.

I used to get my paycheck and turn around and send most of it home in the form of a money order to be deposited into my savings account. I suppose I figured that if I had easy access to the account I'd be too tempted to use it. I had no bills; no car payment, insurance, fuel or rent to pay. Even my meals were covered as long as I ate on the ship. The only expenses I had were my bike, doing laundry out in the city, fast food and an occasional cassette of some new music. Without question those were the most care-free days of my life and I understood that and enjoyed the contentment of knowing it.

I had my head on straight and I was embracing my healthier focus toward life. I remember riding my bike off the base one morning past one of the bars just outside the gate, the Westerner. There was a sailor half laying on the sidewalk and leaning up against the brick wall looking like he'd just woken up from having been passed out. I thought to myself, 'what a waste'. I was thankful it wasn't me. I was thankful for my bike and for the day ahead of me not knowing where my ride would take me. I was thankful for the 2nd or 3rd or however many extra chances I'd been given.

Living in such close quarters as we did you'd like to think that you could trust those you shared space with. I think for the most part we could but not fully. I came back to the ship one afternoon after having been out in the city purchasing a $140 money order to send home. I laid down on my rack for half an hour and when I woke up I noticed that my pants with my wallet in the back pocket had been moved from where I'd left them. I checked the pocket for my wallet but it was gone. I searched everywhere thinking it had to have fallen out not accepting that one of my shipmates had taken it. I never found it.

In addition to the $140 money order there was also $60 in cash that was taken. It was a lot of money 30 years ago, at least to me. I had my hunches about who took it based on who was hanging around that afternoon but there was no way to prove it. The guy I still suspect was one of my better friends which made the whole experience tough to understand.

Before I could write a letter or call home to tell my parents what happened I got a letter from my mom. She wrote about a dream she'd had where a guy on my ship had stolen my wallet. His last name was Cohen and he was in the process of trying to get a transfer off the ship. The letter floored me because across from my rack was Steve Cohan's bunk. All week long Steve had been talking about trying to get a transfer off the ship to submarine duty. To this day I still can't believe it was Steve who stole from me. I'm certain who it was but my mother's letter has always cast a shadow of doubt on that certainty. I still have the letter my mother wrote me detailing the dream she had but for the life of me I can't find it. I figured that two hours of looking tonight was long enough. It'll show up some day and I'll then scan it to post here.

I was able to recover the amount of the money order but the $60, my license and photos from my wallet would be the price of a lesson learned.

I came onto the ship a few months earlier as a wide-eyed, trusting kid who mostly saw the best in people. I'd learn a lot over the next few years.

To be continued...

Setting a New Course With Two Wheels

2009-09-18T03:16:00.009-05:00

This is a continuation of a series of posts written about my time spent in the Navy in the mid to late 1970's. The most recent of those writings can be found here while the initial entry in this series is here.

We got back from our WestPac (Western Pacific) cruise in the Fall of 1976. It had been a busy year for me, especially considering that one year earlier joining the Navy was not on my radar while working dead-end jobs was. For the most part we'd spend the next 21 months in port in San Diego and in that time I'd fall in love with my home away from home; not the ship but the city.

I didn't own a car or even a bike so I walked most everywhere and would catch buses along the way. I did my share of hitch-hiking as well but eventually I'd stop thumbing for rides after having had too many encounters that left me questioning that cheap form of transportation. To quote a line from a favorite TV show from years ago; "No thanks, Chuck, I'll remain on my own."

I wasn't necessarily a loner but neither can I say that I was much of an after hours regular with the crowd of guys who made up our division. I'd go out with them occasionally in addition to some guys from other divisions and have a few beers but that was about it.

One of those outings was with Garry I. in December 1976. His brother had also been stationed on our ship and had finished his enlistment one week earlier and left his car behind for Garry to use. I don't know if Garry smoked dope much but he had some in the car with us; I knew he liked his beer. We were headed over to the Enlisted Mens' Club at the Naval Training Center on Point Loma and when we drove onto the base the guard at the gate motioned for us to pull around to where they were conducting random vehicle inspections. Garry stashed the dope in the door of the car but there was no hiding it from the nose of the German Shepherd accompanying the officers. Garry did his best to try and pass the dope off as something his brother must have left in the car and that he was unaware of its presence. The MPs weren't convinced.

After collecting our identification information they sent us over to the Military Police station on base and we walked inside. The first thing we saw beyond an officer on the phone at the front desk were two empty jail cells with their doors slightly open. Like a couple of knuckleheads we each took our place in one of the cells and latched the door shut. The officer soon finished his call and asked us why we were in the cells. We told him we'd just gotten busted for dope at the gate and figured we would be spending the night in jail. He laughed and then called us over to the desk and proceeded to fill out a police report on the matter which would be sent off to our ship and Commanding Officer. And that was that; we were free to go.

As we drove back to our ship, Garry had an idea that if we kept quiet and somebody else somehow put the word out that we got busted it would be a violation of our privacy rights and may possibly get us off. I had no idea if there was any merit to his plan but what else could we do? We agreed that neither of us would say anything to anybody about what had happened.

Mike Dugan was the Personnel Specialist who opened the mail the following Monday detailing our bust. It didn't take long for Mike to make his way to the living quarters we shared and remark to the others that it was a 'bummer about Gilmore and Ixxxxx getting busted the other night'. Say what? Everybody was all ears as it was the first they'd heard of it. I could only hope that Garry knew what he was talking about.

What exactly happened behind the scenes over the next couple weeks I have no way of knowing. Rather than go to Captain's Mast where these sort of things were typically handled and usually resulted in one to two months restriction to the ship in addition to a $250 fine, we were sent before the Executive Officer of the ship and received only a verbal admonishment. Had Garry been right all along? I asked no questions. The ordeal was behind us, or so I thought.

Years later at my job with the FAA I was a controller in training. I was told that there was a man from the FBI who wanted to talk with me. I couldn't imagine why anybody from the FBI would want to speak to me. I met him in a conference room where he closed the door and introduced himself as Agent King. He asked me about an incident a few years earlier involving a bust for marijuana while I was in the Navy. I described for him what had happened and stated that the charges were dropped and that I was surprised the incident was a part of my records. He took notes while I spoke. Our meeting lasted only a few minutes and in parting he told me that he'd be doing an investigation of his own. I never heard from him again.

Back on the ship and out from under the charges, I knew there was a reason I liked the solitude of my own company but I needed more than that.

A few months later I was at the Navy Exchange (a store on the base) where I spied a white Peugeot 10-speed. Having a nice road bike had been a desire of mine for a few years but that dream was shoved aside at 16 when I got my license. My bike would open up a new world to me and one where I'd make my health a focus. My riding would teach me discipline in a way I'd not known. This would be a good thing in so many ways.

To be continued...

A New Host and Saddle Solution Number 3

2009-09-11T23:43:00.024-05:00

If you notice during the next few days that links within my blog appear to be dead there's a reason for that. I'm in the process of terminating my affiliation with Myacen, my web hosting service and bringing it back to life with Go Daddy. I hope to have it all back to normal in a week or less. I've been with Myacen for six years but over the last couple years they've become a shell of what they once were to the point where I needed to make this change. My site was down for most of yesterday. The five year deal I've signed with Go Daddy will give me 10gb of storage and more bandwidth than I could ever use, all for significantly less than I've been paying.

Our garage project is on hold as we wait for Keith to finish work on cabinets for it. I'm actually not sure if he's even had a chance to start them yet as he's been busy traveling the Midwest following the NHRA race scene which he participates in. He's a busy guy and I'm sure he'll get to them before too long. It will be nice to have everything back in place once the cabinets are installed.

Anybody who cycles long distance knows the woes of saddle sores. If you've never had them you can't consider yourself a serious cyclist. I'm a serious cyclist; like these guys. I thought I'd found the answer to my problems last fall with the purchase of a Selle SMP Evolution saddle but I was mistaken. After 1800 miles I had to replace it as it was causing some major irritation to my sit bones. This past spring I sprung for a Koobi PRS Alpha saddle and was very happy once again until I developed the same problem with it. Usually the tendency is to develop sore spots right away which your body eventually adjusts to. This seemed to work in reverse. Both saddles started out fine but got progressively worse. I wasn't enjoying my time on the bike at all with the discomfort I was experiencing.

It can be an expensive endeavor to try and find the right saddle as shops aren't too interested in taking back something you've been riding for hundreds or thousands of miles. My solution has been to try yet another saddle; this time a Brooks and this time with a six month trial period, no questions asked, fully refundable. I'm talking retro. I've wanted to try one of these for a while but I've been reluctant because of their weight. There's no plastic shell with light weight covering used in the manufacture of these. They're thick leather with large rivets to both give it its distinguished look and hold it all together. They're some of the heavier road saddles out there but they have some of the best reviews of any saddle for comfort. If it works for me the added weight will be a small sacrifice.

These saddles don't begin to break in until well on the other side of 1000 miles and I've only got a little over 500 miles on mine. I've heard it compared to sitting on a 2 X 4 when they're new and I'd have to say that that's not far off. I've been taking it out on 30 to 60 mile rides so as not to overdo it. It's a slow process.

I left home yesterday with another short break-in ride planned but the gorgeous weather got the best of me and I said screw it...I'm riding today. And I did. When I got to Fairbault I gave a few seconds of thought to turning back and heading home knowing I'd manage over 70 miles but I was also giving a lot of thought to heading east on highway 60 to Kenyon as I'd never taken this stretch of road. Highway 60 to the east won out and what a beautiful road it is/was; new blacktop with a wide shoulder and not much traffic.

By the time I reached the half way point of Kenyon my Garmin Edge 705 told me that I'd only had 80 seconds of paused time. You can get away with that riding in the country with few stop lights. I hurried inside the Marathon station and refueled as quick as I could. I was feeling pretty good in the saddle and I wanted to minimize my time off it hoping that would keep the pains at bay at least until I got closer to home. It seemed to work.

I came in on the tail end of rush hour and worked my way west along county road 46 through Rosemount expecting to see a lot more cyclists than I did. Didn't others realize what a beautiful day this was to be out riding? A direct route home would give me 96 miles total but I figured I was too close to another century ride for the season to not go for it. A quick loop around Lake Marion gave me more than I needed.

Tomorrow is looking to be another nice one weather-wise so I think I'll continue with the difficult job of breaking in my new saddle. This is serious business but I'll try and enjoy myself while I'm out there if at all possible.

Fair Memories

2009-09-07T21:34:00.008-05:00

Happy Labor Day. When I used to listen to talk radio I'd often hear Rush or Hannity talk about how it's the wealthy in this country who provide jobs for the masses. Without the generousness of the wealthy we would have nothing. Fair enough; or is it? My thinking has changed in recent years and I'm now more inclined to say that without labor, all the money in the world would do the wealthy no good whatsoever. Who would assemble their products, deliver them and for that matter, buy them if it weren't for us common folk? Is one side in this equation more important than the other or this as pure a symbiotic relationship as can be? I don't have the answer but I do know that we're all in this together. Speaking from experience working as an air traffic controller in the FAA, when one side ignores the other and forces its will on them no good can come from that. Real leaders lead by example and encourage rather than enforce others to follow.

Rachel had some friends over to play croquet Saturday but there was a catch...to play, they had to dress the part which meant plaid pants and polo shirts. Knuckleheads.

Tammy and I were going to take a pass on the Great Minnesota Get-Together this year because Saturday afternoon was the only time it would fit for us and the thought of how many other people had similar plans caused me concern. We decided to be brave and do battle with the crowds anyway and ventured out a little past noon. Rather than mess with stop and go traffic miles from the fairgrounds we opted for the Park & Ride by the Mall of America. $5 each bought us a round trip ticket on the bus which was what we'd have paid to park anyway. It seemed a no-brainer to me.

I first went to the fair in 1967 at the age of 10 with my best friend, Miles Harvey. Miles was pretty much an only child as his older brother was much older and no longer lived at home. I remember that Miles used to get $5 a week for an allowance. That was a lot of money back then and as one of six kids it was $5 more than I got. His mom bought us tickets to watch the car races as Miles was huge into cars. We grew apart during junior high school and I lost touch with him altogether years later when he moved to Florida. Every once in a while I'll search the net to try and find him but so far no luck.

The crowds were everything we feared they would be but it didn't at all damper our experience with one exception; we skipped getting a pork chop on a stick because the line was too long. It's my favorite fair food.

In all the years I've been coming to the fair I'd never once taken the ski lift (Skyrider, I think it's called) over the top of the fairgrounds. Neither had Tammy; but now we have. I enjoyed the view it gave and the nice break it provided from all the walking we were doing.

My favorite tattoo of day had to be this one. I dunno...I just liked it. I've never seen a peacock feather tattoo and this one looked to be done very nicely.

Another attraction (for some anyway) is the carving in butter of the faces of contestants in the Princess Kay of the Milky Way contest. I've never figured out why people would want this done of themselves because they never, ever look at all flattering. But it's tradition and I suppose that's all that matters. There's also a heavy smell of butter in the air.

We slipped into the beer garden before heading out to the midway. We'd no sooner left the gardens when we ran into one of our pastors from church and her husband. We chatted for a few minutes before continuing on. With beers in hand we both had to laugh and dismiss concerns for our image with an understanding that Jesus drank alcohol too.

Scenes from the Midway.

Rachel went to the fair yesterday with a friend, Steven. They made a game out of seeing how many photos they could get into where people (strangers) were posing for pictures. They'd try and position themselves smiling in the background. They also tried to walk between obvious couples of people. More points were awarded if the couples were holding hands. If you could somehow somersault between them you'd earn bonus points. Knuckleheads.

Leaving Las Vegas, part 3

2009-09-04T22:25:00.010-05:00

We left the pool and got into the elevator with a big fellow in his 60s. Tammy asked him how he was doing and he replied that he'd been down more than $8000 at one point but won $6000 of it back. He was quite happy having lost $2000. I guess it has everything to do with one's perspective.

We had one more night on the town before catching an early flight the next morning. On our way out of the hotel we stopped by the front desk to settle up and to make sure there weren't any added charges we weren't aware of; and there were.

We knew we'd be charged for anything we used from the cooler as it stated clearly on the front of its door. What was a surprise to us was that there was also a hefty charge for any of the items on top of the dresser that we used and we used quite a few...to the tune of $150.28! Page 1 and page 2 of our bill of extras. The love box doesn't come cheap at $32.33.

We explained to the woman behind the counter that we had no idea there was a charge for any of it. We figured that because we were such high rollers that we were merely being comped. She said that they don't do that. She went on to explain that all of those items have a sensor under them and if we so much as lift an item and replace it we'll be charged for it. Really? I told her that they needed to make that clearer to people and with that she said she'd remove the charges from our bill. I think they must have to do that a lot.

The main thing on our agenda for the night was the late performance of Cirque du Soliel, Love, The Beatles. But first, we took some time to see the Shark Reef at the hotel. We've got something similar at the Mall of America and it's quite impressive but I think this was even better. They give you a device to hold up to your ear and it tells you what you're looking at as you walk along. As far as value goes it's well worth the $16.95 admission price for adults considering you're in Las Vegas.

I think we all liked the jellyfish exhibit best. I did not know that jellyfish don't have a brain, eyes or a heart. Sounds like some people I know, but enough about the FAA.

We took the monorail and got off at the exit for the Mirage where the show was playing and where we had dinner at BLT Burger. I've never before spent $17 for a hamburger, fries and a drink. Maybe I don't get out enough. It's best to not even look at the cost of things and just know that you're in LAS and go with it. Trying to find something cheap would be futile unless you go to McDonald's, which we did at least once.

The highlight of our vacation had to be the show; Cirque du Soliel, Love. I've never seen anything like it nor anything near as good. It's a combination of acrobats and dancers performing to Beatles music. It's theater/circus in the round and I don't think there's a bad seat in the house. There's so much happening that I often found myself trying to focus on one area of the stage at the expense of another. My eyes were all over trying to take it all in but during some parts I simply couldn't. I'd absolutely recommend this as a must see if you're going to Las Vegas.

Tammy has been singing Beatles songs since the show. Yesterday she was singing, "I am the apeman, I am the apeman, you are the walrus, coocookachoo" I asked her if she said "apeman" and she said yes. I said it's "eggman". We both laughed as she was certain that she was right and I was wrong. Now she had me wondering if maybe I've had the words wrong all these years. Apeman did make more sense as I've never heard of an eggman. However, a quick google search gave the nod to me. But I like better one other lyric she used to mess up. Led Zeplin's Stairway to Heaven has a line that says "and as we wind on down the road". In Tammy's youth she used to think they were singing, "and there's a wino down the road". Too funny.

We got back to our hotel after midnight and we were all beat tired. A full night's sleep would've been great but we had to be up in 3 hours for a 4:10 AM shuttle ride to the airport.

I think I was half asleep going through security. I had to go through the metal detector 3 times before I got everything emptied from my pockets. We left security and took the tram to our departure gate. Just as the tram doors were closing I realized that I'd left my cellphone in one of the 3 trays I'd used getting through the metal detector. I quickly called it using Rachel's phone but nobody answered. I'd hoped a TSA agent had picked it up. I caught the next tram back to security and breathed a sigh when one of the security guys handed it back to me. Wake up, Kevin!

I'm not one to sleep on planes but Rachel's gotten pretty good at it. She's become quite the traveler with all the trips she's taken in the last few years and has the routine down. She prides herself on being able to sleep without leaning on the person next to her in her seat. I wish I could.

We arrived back at MSP in the early afternoon but we still had to pick the pups up at Jerry and Jackie's on the north end of the cities. A big thank you again to Jackie and Jerry for watching them for us. We got home and I was exhausted. I went right to bed and slept for 6 hours before getting up at 10:00 PM. Again, I couldn't believe we'd only been gone a few days as it felt like so much longer.

It was fun vacation. We only dropped at most $50 gambling. I'd like to go again but maybe not for another few years. I've got some other places on my bucket list that I need to check off.

Experiencing Las Vegas, part 2

2009-09-03T05:05:00.013-05:00

We took to the city on foot Wednesday night and had no idea how much ground we'd cover by the time the night was done. We walked from our hotel (Mandalay Bay) to a point about a block south of the Stratosphere over 4 miles away. Our route was a zigzag one which added to the overall total. What better way to see Las Vegas?

The peddlers of porn along the sidewalks grew tiring but I found myself feeling sympathetic toward them. These were people who probably occupy the lower rungs of the economic ladder doing whatever they can to make a living. They line the sidewalks holding what looks like stacks of baseball cards in their hands. They'd hold out one or two of the cards and flick them with their fingers making a noise to get your attention. Often people would grab the cards thinking they were coupons but once they looked at them and saw what they were they would usually toss them on the sidewalk if there wasn't a trash can nearby. The sidewalks were littered with them in places. I didn't pick one up to study it but I think they were advertising for escort/prostitution services which is legal in Nevada.

Speaking of walking the streets; buildings tend to be much further away than they actually are on the streets of Las Vegas. It may look like the hotel/casino you're seeing off in the distance is only a couple blocks away but in reality it may be a good deal further than that. They build 'em big there.

Traffic, both vehicle and pedestrian can be relentless.

Busses run regularly but it seems at times that you're better off walking as they can be painfully slow with so much time spent idle waiting for lights to change, traffic to move and pedestrians to clear. A one-way buss pass on the 'Deuce' costs $3. The monorail is much quicker and makes fewer stops for $5 one way but you sometimes have to go a bit off the main road to find it.

We caught the Deuce (double-decker bus) for the ride back to our hotel and walked Rachel up to the room as she was long past tired. Tammy and I headed back down to the casino in the hotel to test our luck. We're not very lucky. We'd planned to blow $100 a day on slots but we came nowhere near that amount. The entire time we were there we spent/lost maybe $40-50 total. We each hit on a couple of winners that paid out and gave us a rush when they happened but those feelings soon faded as the money made its way back into the machine. For the most part we looked just like every other person playing slots who lacked expression or emotion as they mindlessly pushed buttons hoping the symbols would line up in their favor but seldom did. That's not to say it wasn't fun; it's just that neither of us are all that hyped on gambling. I'd rather watch others lose. Every now and then you'd hear a big roar go up and it was usually coming from a Craps table. I've heard that that's where your best odds are but I have no idea how to play the game.

I must admit that the ever present smell of smoke in the casinos and the steady drone of bells and alarms from slot machines eventually gets old. It's nearly impossible to find some place other than your room where it's quiet; not even in the elevator where there's continual chatter from a flat panel monitor advertising acts at the hotel. Between all the noise and the heat outside I found my energy levels taking a hit after a couple days. Thank God for room darkening shades that kept the rising sun out of our room until we were ready for it.

We got a late start Thursday morning, our last full day in Las Vegas. We headed down to Raffles Cafe in the hotel to spend our $50 voucher. We used it all plus a little more...a bit on the expensive side but good. Rachel took a pass on heading out into the city with us and opted for the pool instead. We'd catch up with her there later. Tammy and I needed to get over to the Mirage to pick up our tickets she had reserved for the night's Cirque du Soliel-Love, show.

We used this trip back into the city to cruise through some of the hotels we hadn't yet been through. If the country is in a recession I don't think Las Vegas knows about it.

We met up with Rachel in the afternoon and spent a couple hours playing around in the wave pool. There's a knack to hitting the wave at just the right time to be able to ride it all the way in. I soon figured it out and got more than I bargained for by making it beyond where the smooth landings end. I didn't let it happen twice. Even Tammy was getting into it. She lost her glasses at one point but they were found by one of the many lifeguards situated around the pool.

Laying out in the lawn chair it began to dawn on me that it felt like we were in a time warp. It seemed like we'd been gone for at least a week when it had only been a couple days. We had crammed a lot of living into a short amount of time so that must've been the reason for my confusion. And there was still much more to do.

I had no idea how little sleep I was in for.

To be continued...

Leaving (for) Las Vegas, part 1

2009-09-01T21:29:00.006-05:00

It's been five years since Tammy and I have taken a vacation. Not that we haven't had time off work; we just haven't gone anywhere. We figured that as long as Rachel has been able to get away on mission trips with her church groups we were fine with us staying put.

Our five year streak is over.

The three of us took a quick vacation to Las Vegas last week. I'd never been there. Our choices were New York City, Lake Superior's North Shore in northern Minnesota or Las Vegas. I let Tammy and Rachel choose.

We left Tuesday morning. I was celebrating my 52nd birthday as we flew out. Rachel turned 18 the day before. 18 gets you into casinos in Minnesota and that's where her friends took her for her birthday the night before but you've got to be 21 to gamble in Las Vegas. She said she didn't care much for slot machines but had fun playing Blackjack. She joined the ranks of the losers to the tune of $7.

We stayed at Mandalay Bay on the south end of the strip; a very nice place. When we got up to our room on the 20th floor it still hadn't been cleaned and it was late afternoon. Tammy called the front desk and they told us they'd move us right away to a room on the 60th floor and comp us a $50 meal voucher for our troubles. We couldn't complain.

We got settled into our room and Rachel noticed the Love Box and the Travel Box among some assorted snacks on top of the dresser. Guess which one she had to check out? More about that later.

I'd made plans to get together with a friend, Mike McGregor, from my Navy days who I hadn't seen in over 31 years. Tammy and Rachel had tickets to see The Lion King production playing at the hotel. I phoned Mike to let him know we'd arrived and we arranged for him to meet us for dinner at the House of Blues located downstairs on the main level.

How often to you get to see somebody you haven't seen in three decades? This is twice for me in the last six months. My memories of Mike haven't faded much over the years. He'd transferred to our ship in San Diego from an east coast assignment and replaced me as the junior guy. He had family in Mesa, Arizona and used to drive his van back home on his days off. I remember him telling me how he'd set the van on a straight course on the freeway then quickly get out of the driver's seat and run back to grab a beer from the cooler. I'm not sure if he had the luxury of cruise control back then.

Mike works as a construction foreman and has been living in Las Vegas since the early '90s. His free time is spent on his motorcycle. He's an incredibly nice guy and I wish we lived closer to each other.

Before finishing dinner Mike approached the singer/guitarist and asked him if he would sing happy birthday wishes for me. I tried to stop Mike but knew it was futile. The whole place joined in. I blush too easily.

We left Tammy and Rachel to go to their show while we made our way out to the strip where Mike gave me a quick tour. He said he seldom makes it into the city. We eventually worked our way over to his home in North Las Vegas and pulled into his driveway just as his lady-friend, Donna, was returning home on her Harley from school. The three of us would later go back into the city for the Fremont Street Experience. Fremont is where the strip began (I think) and has grown its way south over the years.

We walked up and down Fremont enjoying some of the cheapest beer around while taking in the sights and listening to the ever present music. It was nice spending time with Mike again.

They brought me back to Mandalay Bay and I told them that we had no plans in particular if they wanted to get together again before we left on Friday.

Tammy and Rachel loved the show.

Mike called us the next morning and offered to drive us to see Hoover Dam. I didn't want to put him out but he said he's been wanting to get back and see it as they've just completed work connecting an arch that will support a much needed road across the Colorado River and he wanted to see it. "Sure...if you don't mind...that would be great" I told him.

We headed down to McDonald's across the street, grabbed a late breakfast and waited for Mike. There were a few dozen protesters on the street corner voicing their disapproval of Obama's health care reform proposals. Before too long a couple Metro Police showed up on motorcycles but I don't think they had much to worry about. The people with signs didn't seem all that angry or disorderly, in fact, I've never seen happier protesters.

Mike picked us up and we drove 45 minutes east to Hoover Dam. He made a few stops along the way so we could get out and look around. It was hot with the temp over 100 degrees and I loved it. It felt nice compared to the cool summer we've been having in the Midwest.

Security waved us through the checkpoint leading to the dam and we drove on a bit further until we could park the car and get out. Impressive doesn't come anywhere near describing this engineering wonder. I'm always amazed at what people can do, especially men, when it comes to larger than life structures such as this. (there's a joke in there...did you spot it?) I did tell Tammy and Rachel, "Do you see that plaque under the arch?" "...it says, 'No women were used in the making of this arch'." It didn't go over so well.

The visitor center offered two tours, the tour of the dam or the tour of the power plant. We'd have to wait 90 minutes for the dam tour (I heard people using the word 'dam' a lot to try and be funny) so we opted for the power plant tour instead. It probably covered much of what I was interested in anyway and was well worth the $15.

I uploaded a set of photos from the dam to my Flickr account.

To be continued...

A Fitting Farewell

2009-08-23T20:25:00.003-05:00

We got home Friday night from Babbitt where we'd gone for Tammy's father's funeral. Tammy went up earlier in the week and Rachel and I followed a couple days behind in some rainy weather. We dropped the pups off at Jackie's then set the Garmin for 58 Fern Court and put the car on autopilot. It was our typical drive up where we spend a good deal of time chatting and catching up. It's been a busy summer for both of us and with Rachel having been away much of the past month we had lots to talk about. Coldplay and Mat Kearney made for good background music.

(Her car is pulling to the right and it was annoying me to have to keep constant pressure on the wheel. She's grown used to it and didn't seem to notice that it was a problem. I took it in first thing Saturday morning to Tires Plus and now it's good until next pothole season.)

The further north we got the more I found myself reminiscing about Morrie. When we came through Virginia where he'd been living the last two years it hit me in a way it hadn't to that point that he was no longer with us. There was an empty bed at St Michael's.

How many times had he traveled these roads in his more than 50 years of living in this area? He had lived through the heydays of mining on the Iron Range. He'd seen the upstart city of Babbitt go from next to nothing to a thriving, bustling area that probably saw its peak in the late '70s. As he aged so did the city to the point that it too is dying with too little fresh blood coming in to sustain it. I commented to Rachel that I wondered what would be left in another ten years at the rate it was going.

We stayed in Ely, about 20 miles north of Babbitt. It's the last stop before entering the boundary waters where canoes on top of SUVs are a common sight. We headed out Friday morning for a 9:30am viewing with the rest of the family and the 11:00am funeral service. It was nice to see all the family who traveled from out of town to be there.

No doubt the Senior Center would be vacant this morning during Morrie's funeral. He hasn't been a regular there for over two years but every now and then he'd make it back and there would be big smiles and slaps on the back when he did. I wondered if they still had his coffee mug hanging with the rest of them and how long would it be before it's taken down?

I was one of the pallbearers and sat across the isle from the family. Any other service would've found Tammy's mother sitting in her regular pew about half way from the front next to the butterfly window but not today. It was a nice service with a bit of humor thrown in which Morrie would have appreciated. I may have laughed a bit too loudly at one point but the image of Norwegians in a ditch hunting for Lutefisk was too much.

Pastor Barnes closed out the service by playing a Norwegian hymn that was also played at Morrie's father's funeral. Tammy found it online and had a CD player set up in the back of the church. It's a beautiful song that added a nice touch to the service.

In stoic Norwegian fashion there were few sniffles or tears that I could discern during the service but once outside during the 21 gun salute several people broke down. It was a touching tribute to the man that I think he would have been please by.

In typical Lutheran style everyone gathered in the church basement for lunch; a lunch which in another time would've found Morrie likely toward the front of the line and going back for seconds.

Glen Maurice Storbeck

Moving Forward

2009-08-19T22:53:00.014-05:00

Mat Kearney, All I Have ...Mp3 or Wma

I've done my share of bashing FAA management the past few years and for those who have been following along and are interested there has been some movement with respect to our lack of a contract. Our union, Natca, met with FAA management last month at President Obama's direction to try and come to an agreement as we're currently operating without a contract although management says we have one. Agreement was reached on the vast majority of issues but the most important one, dealing with pay, ended in impasse and was sent to arbitration.

Arbitration was all we ever wanted; our day in court to be heard. We had that.

The arbitrators came back with their decisions last week. I thought I'd sit down sooner than this to blog about it but I couldn't seem to muster the interest to do so. Not that I'm all that jazzed to blog about it now but it's an important footnote to have in my blog for years from now when I'm looking back on my writings and reminiscing on my life that was. I don't have much to say other than I'm glad that this is behind us and we can now begin the process of moving forward rather than continuing on this road we've been traveling for three years.

A day or two before the decision was released I penned this post on our union's forum...

"One thing I'd like to see in the arbitrators' decision would be a rebuke of FAA management and how they've disrespected the workforce the past several years or better yet, a suggestion from them that key people involved in the development of our current culture be demoted or fired.

A guy can dream, can't he?

Kevin g"

I really wasn't expecting this but in their decision the arbitrators begin their introduction with the following rebuke of FAA management...just as I'd hoped for.

In 2006, these parties failed in an attempt to achieve a mutually bargained successor to the then-existing “Green Book”. Subsequently, management imposed its own version of all conditions of employment. That so-called “White Book” contained numerous provisions that served, from 2006 to 2009, as the terms and conditions of employment for bargaining unit employees; ranging from the trivial to the essential. Some provisions addressed work rules related to the daily business of running this highly complex shop. Others were economic take-backs, in the name of fiscal prudence, that constituted unprecedented draconian reductions in compensation, bordering on the unconscionable.

The “WhiteBook” included the following preamble, evidently imported wholesale by the Agency from the negotiated 2003 (“Green Book”) Labor Agreement:

"This Collective Bargaining Agreement is designed to improve working conditions for air traffic controllers, traffic management coordinators/specialists and US NOTAM Office (USNOF) specialists, facilitate the amicable resolution of disputes between the Parties and contribute to the growth, efficiency and prosperity of the safest and most effective air traffic control system in the world.

The true measure of our success will not be the number of disagreements we resolve, but rather the trust, honor and integrity with which the Parties jointly administer this Agreement."

This hortatory language, stands as a monument to wishful thinking. Among other things, unilateral imposition of this document generated more than 450,000 grievances which, to this day remain unresolved.

Whatever else may be said of the White Book document, it is neither a “Collective Bargaining Agreement” nor an “Agreement.” The abrupt imposed changes in working conditions from the collectively negotiated Green Books to the unilateral White Book was so profound, and spawned so much hostility and distrust, that the labor-management relationship since has degenerated into a state of dysfunctionality.

Their words summed up nicely a most difficult culture that those of us in the trenches have had to stomach the last three years. One would think with words such as the above that the arbitrators would then take the next step and right the wrongs that were imposed on us but they didn't. Rather, we'll be getting yearly raises once again beginning with the new year instead of two more years of frozen wages.

I should probably be upset that my base pay wasn't restored to what it should be, some 15k more than it currently is but I'm not. I can move forward knowing that this is the way the world sometimes works and that life isn't fair. It wasn't everything I/we wanted but it's the process we asked for and were given. It's done. What would make this better would be a freezing of managements' wages for the next three years just to make it fair but I've got better things to do than fight for that. I'll still take my occasional jabs at FAA management but I'll leave the heavy lifting to others who do it better than I can.

I've got my faith, family, health and a great job in an uncertain world. To dwell on the negative now would be wrong.

The Long Goodbye

2009-08-16T21:50:00.006-05:00

Tammy's father passed away late last night. He had been living three hours north of us in a retirement home in Virginia, Minnesota for the last couple years after injuring himself in several falls at home. Forced to live out his final years away from home was a difficult transition for him. Tammy's family went through some strained times as not everyone was in agreement about how best to proceed when it became apparent that he could no longer care for himself.

Tammy's intuition prompted her to drive up and see him last Thursday. His Alzheimer's has advanced so much in the last year. She didn't get the sense that he remembered her nor did she feel that he had long to live. I got a call from Tammy's sister and her mother last night around 6:30 saying that he wasn't doing well and that the nursing home advised them that they should come. Tammy was at work and I texted her with the information. She told me she didn't think he would make it through the night and to keep her updated. I asked her if it would be inappropriate for me to text her should he pass. She said that would be fine. I suppose some may think that would be insensitive. I suppose I'd disagree. A little after 11:30 Cindy called to say he was gone. I'd been texting Rachel throughout the night as she was at her dad's house. This is the first loss of this sort she's been through but she's doing fine.

Morey retired from the mines in the mid '80s. He was a diesel mechanic who performed maintenance on huge trucks with tires taller than you or I. He loved to hang out with the guys at the Senior Center and have coffee. He enjoyed his yearly pass to the golf course until several years ago when he could no longer play the game. In addition to his job in the mines he also used to do cement work on the side. Tammy worked for him one summer during high school striking joints as he laid foundations. He was a simple man who left many friends and loved ones behind, including me.

Our garage floor project is done. There was a lot more to it than I imagined and I'm glad I hired the job out rather than opting for the do-it-yourself-kit-in-a-box approach. Not that those don't work but I was afraid of the headache I'd be left with in a few years once the epoxy bond had begun to release and the only good fix would be to remove the entire finish. Our floor was quite pitted and that alone was enough to deter me from doing it myself.

The part of the project which surprised me the most was the amount of flake it took to do the job. I'd have guessed they'd maybe use 20-30 lbs of the stuff; not even close. Skip measured up 300 lbs of flake figuring the job would take 250 lbs but wanting to have some extra in case his numbers were wrong.

I took video of nearly all phases of the job with the exception of the final clear coat where they sprinkle aluminum oxide over the surface to give it a nonskid finish. Here's the first of three videos. The end of each video comes with a link in the last few seconds to link you to the next video.

We're happy as can be with the results. I'm guessing that Keith will have the cabinets for us sometime in the next few weeks and we'll be able to wrap the entire project up.

My search for the right TV and cooler for the space continues.

Coincidence or Godincidence?

2009-08-14T23:40:00.007-05:00

I'm a Christian. Since I've been old enough to rationalize the existence of God I've been a believer. My dad was raised Catholic and my mother Lutheran. Growing up, we attended Lutheran churches with all eight of us taking up most of an entire pew. I can remember that it was a big production to get us all ready for Sunday morning services. It wasn't unusual for my dad to spend part of Saturday night polishing our shoes. T-shirts, shorts and tennis shoes weren't an option. Our parents were sowing seeds that I think for the most part took hold in all of us siblings to varying degrees.

There was a time in the late '90s where I was between churches so to speak. I'd stopped attending Family of Christ where I was a charter member. The church was going through some turmoil which would culminate in the founding pastor's termination. I was disappointed in things that I saw and before too much time I quit going entirely. Occasionally tuning into one of several Sunday morning church broadcasts would be as close as I'd get to church for a few years.

Some time in the summer of '97 I'd gone to bed on a Saturday night with intentions of getting up the next morning and going for a ride before my afternoon shift at work. I had a vivid dream that night that I was in the home of a friend from high school, John Bodger, and it was 1973 all over again. We were sitting around his kitchen table and talking as we used to. There wasn't much more to the dream than that. It had been ten years or more since I'd seen or heard from John and I wasn't even sure if he was still living in the area.

The next morning before I could get out on my bike I had an urging or prompting that I should skip my ride and go to church instead. Hosanna had just moved into its new building about a mile from my home and for a while I'd been kicking around the idea of giving it a try. I called the information desk to find out what time their services were then made my way over to the church.

I took a seat toward the back and spent several minutes reading the notes in the bulletin while people filtered in. Pastor Bill Bohline began the service by welcoming any visitors and assuring us that our presence at Hosanna this morning was no mistake and that he believed the Lord had led us there. Who was I to disagree? He then asked us to stand and take a moment to greet those around us. There was nobody to my left, I looked to my right beyond the 5 or 6 empty seats between myself and the next person and found myself face to face with John from my dream the night before. Coincidence? I don't think so. I'm not sure if I tried to tell John in that moment what was happening but eventually I would.

I was feeling good about my decision to skip my ride.

I can't remember what Bill spoke about that day but there was one other coincidence, or Godincidence (as I would learn to refer to it) that happened which helped assure me that I was in the right place. My favorite hymn has always been All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name. I'm really not much for hymns but for whatever reason I've always liked this one going back to when I was in grade school. It was also one of the songs they sang at Hosanna that morning. I didn't know it then but Hosanna sings very few traditional hymns opting for more contemporary music. In fact, I can't recall ever singing it again at Hosanna.

I've had no desire to find a different church and have been a regular at Hosanna since that summer morning. It's where I belong.

Where am I going with this blog entry? Stay with me, it gets interesting.

The speaker at Hosanna last Sunday was one of our former pastors, David Housholder. He told of a profound experience he'd had the night before which became the centerpiece for his sermon which was about listening to that inner voice, to those urgings you have but you're not sure why.

David told of his love for the game of soccer and of his admiration for Alan Willey, a player, number 9 for the long ago defunct Minnesota Kicks professional soccer team from the late '70s. David told about how two years ago he wanted to get a Minnesota Kicks jersey with the number 9 on it. He searched the internet but couldn't find one. He contacted a woman he knows who deals in the manufacturing of sports apparel and she told him that there really wasn't much she could do to help him due to copyright laws. Not to be deterred, David pressed on in his quest to obtain the jersey.

David had one other avenue to pursue. In his youth he was hired by Don Byerly to work in one of his Byerly's grocery stores here in the Twin Cities. Don, who would later become owner of the Minnesota Kicks had retired to California where David now lives. David contacted him about getting a release to have the jersey made. Don still remembered him and was happy to help by giving him permission to have a remake of the jersey done; and so he did.

It seems up to this point like a lot of effort for a simple jersey

He said he'd worn the jersey only a few times in the couple years he's had it but when he left for Minnesota on this most recent trip he brought the jersey with him. Part of his coming here was to speak at the Conference of the Holy Spirit at North Heights Lutheran Church in Arden Hills last weekend.

Just before leaving for the conference David had a change of mind about the shirt he was wearing. He swapped it out for the orange #9 Minnesota Kicks jersey instead and then left to speak. He mentioned that he's usually not one to put much thought into what he wears. If you were to ask him to not look down and describe the shirt he is wearing at any particular time he probably couldn't tell you. On this night though his shirt apparently mattered.

North Heights is a large church and the conference attracted an overflow crowd of more people than available seats. After speaking, David stayed around for a couple hours to do some ministry. Toward the end of the night a man approached him and said "I'm Alan Willey". David said that they were both so overcome with emotion that they struggled to find words for one another. Alan said that he had been asking God to show him some sort of sign that he was on the right road and where God wanted him in his life.

How must Alan have felt seated in the audience and to have David come out wearing the jersey he used to wear? And David, standing before a capacity crowd wearing the jersey of a player who was last active in the sport nearly 30 years ago and having that same man just happen to be in attendance. That can't be considered a simple coincidence by any reasonable person. How would you figure the odds on something like that?

There are coincidences in life I suppose but I think that more often than we realize what we're really seeing are Godincidences at work. Look for them, they're there.

Summer Stuff

2009-08-07T21:03:00.010-05:00

Rachel left for Guatemala last Monday morning on a mission trip with the youth group at Hosanna. This is her second time going to Guatemala having gone last year too. She'll be back Tuesday night.

She had been spending a lot of time with her boyfriend Josh in the weeks leading up to the trip. She went with his family for several days to South Dakota then Josh came with us for a few days to Babbitt. On the heels of those two trips was Sonshine Fest where they spent four days tenting it with the youth groups from Hosanna and Prince of Peace.

She was at Lake Geneva Christian Center last week for youth camp. It was easily the best camp she'd ever attended and she's been to many. She brought back a DVD of her week which looks very similar to this link from the same camp on YouTube. She didn't let on right away when she came home that she'd also made a difficult decision while at camp.

I was downstairs alone watching TV before going to bed late last Friday night when she got home from being out with Josh. She came into the basement and sat down on the couch next to me with tears streaming down her face. She looked over at me and said "I just broke up with Josh". It surprised me as I had no idea that was coming and apparently neither did Josh. She said it was something that she decided she needed to do a couple days earlier at camp. She'd been with Josh for most of that afternoon and evening before finding the right time to tell him. He thought that she was kidding but her tears convinced him otherwise.

I was so sad for her as we sat on the couch together. We talked, I mostly listened for a half hour as she sorted through her thoughts.

She said that Josh wants to still remain friends and hang out but I told her that would be difficult to do. I said "us guys may say we just want to remain friends but in all likelihood his real intentions will be to get back together with you...just know that". She understood.

Josh was by the house a couple times on Sunday; once to bring Rachel a DQ Blizzard and later in the day to drop off a pizza he'd made for her where he works at Nick-n-Willy's. He's not making it easy for either of them to move on.

She left early the next morning for Guatemala and left this comment on her Facebook... "I'm going to live for something bigger than myself." She also changed her status from 'in a relationship' to 'single'.

My hope is that Josh will give her the space she needs to do what she needs to do. So far that's not happening. He wants to come with us when we pick her up at the airport Tuesday night. I feel bad for him. He's a good kid and I don't want to see his heart broken but I don't see any way around it; for either of them.

Speaking of school; Tammy and I took a road trip 75 miles southeast to Rochester last Thursday...our 10th anniversary. The University of Minnesota has an extension campus in Rochester that she and Rachel toured a couple weeks earlier. They both liked it and wanted me to see it. I too liked it, a lot. The curriculum is geared toward careers in the medical field which is where Rachel would like to focus but on specifically what she can't say just yet. All of the students take the same classes the first two years and branch out from there so it takes the pressure off her to have to decide on something so soon. Those first couple years will give her exposure to career paths she may not have considered up to now.

The campus is only a few years old and is situated downtown among a bunch of shops; sort of an unlikely place for a college campus. The dorms are more like condominiums or apartments. Each unit is 1500 square feet, 2 bedrooms with 2.5 bathrooms shared between 4 students. The tall building in the background of the photo houses the dorms/apartments.

We don't know where she'll attend college in a year but of the few they've visited so far this is the one we're probably all leaning toward. Tammy and Rachel have a few more they're scheduled to visit in the next few weeks.

We spent a few hours cruising the sidewalks and skyways of Rochester checking out the shops and people watching. This lady with her three kids in tow caught my eye. I motioned for Tammy to have a look...a closer look. No telling what shows when she sits down.

As I said, it was our 10th anniversary. We spent some time reminiscing about our wedding day (here are some photos from that day on the bottom half of this page), where we've been and our plans for the future. Without question I can say that the past 10 years have been the most meaningful and enjoyable of all my years. I'm so blessed to have both Tammy and Rachel in my life. Thank you God and thank you Digital Cities. And to think, my hesitation to buy a computer a little over 11 years ago nearly kept our paths from crossing.

What will the next 10 years have for us?

Becoming a Dull Boy...

2009-08-05T23:04:00.006-05:00

...all work and no play.

I've been living in our home for over 17 years having had it built in the spring of 1992. Much of that summer was spent working on the countless jobs necessary to get a new home up to speed with landscaping taking up the bulk of my efforts. I don't think I had any idea going into it how much work was involved but I was 34 and determined to do it all with the exception of a couple areas where I paid to have some work done: having a Bobcat come in and drill 60 holes for shrubs and paying another guy to evenly distribute ten dump-truck loads of black dirt over our corner lot for a better base than the typical clay soil we have to work with. It was an exhausting summer of work but I felt good about all I'd accomplished and the money I'd saved over having paid someone to do it. However, having said all that I still maintain as I did after that first summer in our home that I'd never buy new construction again.

I was looking through some photos to add to this post and I came across one where I'd just put the finishing touches on the landscaping from all those years ago. Then and now.

Three of our trees are Ash trees and I'm concerned about losing them to the Emerald Ash Borer which recently made its way to neighboring cities.

Not long ago I was pondering whether I still had the drive or energy to take on those sort of jobs again. None of my summers since that first one here have been anything nearly as laborious and it's safe to say that I've grown soft. This year finds me recalling what those 12+ hour days felt like back then. Nearly all of my vacation days (and weekends) this spring and summer have been spent working on projects around our home with very little time for doing what I usually do...riding. I suppose the good thing about all these tasks is that I really hadn't planned to do any of them when the year began. Had I made a list earlier in the year of all I'd be taking on I'd probably have been too depressed or overwhelmed by it to do any of them.

The year began innocently enough with this unplanned project and then this one plus a few other various jobs not mentioned in my blog. A few weeks ago was our trip to Babbitt, a Working Vacation.

Which brings me to the latest and hopefully our final project of the year; finishing our garage. I hired out the sheet-rocking and taping but managed the painting on my own. It didn't seem that painting out the garage was going to be much more than a two day job but it's taken me a good deal longer than that. I'm not a slow worker but I'm particular about how things get done and I like to do them right. I suppose that accounts for the extra time it takes me to complete a task. I'll keep my day job.

A friend from work, Earl, came by earlier in the week and dropped off his trailer for us to use to store the contents of our garage while we're having an epoxy finish put on our garage floor. It's a four day process that began this morning with Skip and Tony coming in and removing the top layer of concrete with the use of hand grinders and a walk-behind sandblaster that did the majority of the work.

They also chipped out some areas where there was excessive scaling of the concrete from erosion due to winter road salt. Once that was done they covered the entire surface and filled in the pits with a base layer of epoxy. They'll be back tomorrow to put down the main layer of epoxy which will have the color chips we've chosen.

Our floor will look a lot like this sample. The sample is a combination of 30% gray, 30% white and 40% buff. The only change we'll make will be to add 5% of the mauve color to the left in this photo...not a lot but just enough to work with some of the reddish tones in the brick in the front of our house.

Lots more has happened in the last week and maybe I'll try and touch on that in another post in a day or two. It seems my blog has taken up residence off to the side next to my bike while all these projects win out competing for my time.

A Question for FAA Management

2009-07-25T23:45:00.017-05:00

Lance Armstrong will take 3rd place overall tomorrow when the Tour de France finishes in Paris. He did about as good as I was expecting him to considering his age and the broken collar bone injury he sustained a few months before the race. His presence in the Tour made for quite a bit of added interest, certainly for me anyway. He'll be back next year and this time with his own team, Team RadioShack. I admire what the guy does for cycling.

The long, frustrating, disingenuous and hypocritical road FAA management has had us air traffic controllers on for the past three years may soon be coming to an end. Our union met with FAA management last month (thank you President Obama) to try and reach agreement on all things contract related. The issues that matter most (at least to me) were sent to arbitration and are out of both ours and management's hands. I'm speaking of pay.

There were several items/articles where we reached agreement but I have a difficult time getting very excited about any one of them in particular. I'll be able to wear jeans and tennis shoes to work. Wow. I'm sorry if it sounds like I'm diminishing the work of those on our contract team because that's not my intention. These are simply my feelings on what's been made public to this point. It's the culture we've been working within that needs serious change and no contract can fix that. Removing some key people from positions of management can. A simple following of the Golden Rule would also help as it's been absent for far too long.

For people in management who think controllers are whining let me ask you this; would you be upset if controllers were made whole and given back the pay that was taken from them? You may not be happy for us but I doubt you would lose sleep over it. Now, let me ask you this; suppose we were made whole but then you had your pay frozen for three years as we did while we continued to get raises...would that upset you? I thought so. And no, your job is neither more responsible nor difficult and deserving of more pay than a controller earns. In fact, I would argue that the work you do is both considerably easier and carries less responsibility. Rest assured that the closest you'll get to ever having to live with the scenario I've described is me posing a hypothetical question; how nice. Walk a mile in my shoes please before you dismiss my frustration as whining. Thank you.

The sheetrocking job in our garage got delayed a bit because of too humid conditions last week which kept Joel and John from being able to do the final sanding until this Monday. I'd intended to use my weekend to get the space painted but I'll be pushing that back a week. No hurries.

I've decided against a do-it-yourself epoxy application for the garage floor and I'm going to hire the job out. I'm not convinced that any epoxy I put down will hold up more than a few years and then what do I do...pay somebody a bunch of money to come in and remove it? I don't think so.

Tammy and I met with Skip yesterday who showed us samples of some of the applications he does. We're sold. I was fine with one of the cheaper finishes but Tammy gave me the go-ahead to do something more. We're tentatively planning to have him come in and do the work the week after next. It's a messy job which involves abrading/roughening of the surface before the finish goes on.

Video to follow. Aren't you excited?

Dare to Dream

2009-07-21T23:06:00.002-05:00

One of my earliest memories is of being outside our home with my parents and siblings near Detroit as a 4 or 5 year old and looking up into the night sky to see one of the Sputnik satellites pass overhead. I didn't understand what I was looking at but I could see the blue dot moving across the sky.

I was one month shy of my 12th birthday in July 1969 when Apollo 11 lifted off for the moon. Those were captivating moments for an entire nation and more. When there was a space launch or reentry during school hours we'd sometimes get to watch it on monitors in the school's auditorium. Witnessing history play out on those too small black and white television screens held my attention like no teacher could. The crackling of the booster rockets as they propelled the tiny capsule into space was awe inspiring. I sat riveted to the screen as earth based cameras transitioned to video from aircraft and continued to monitor the rocket until the boosters fell away. Had anybody been talking to me during any of it I don't think I'd have heard a word.

We were vacationing in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and at my aunt and uncle's home in Winona the night Neil Armstrong stepped out onto the lunar surface and made history. I remember looking up at the moon that night through the window in their family room and trying to get my head around the fact that men were actually up there.

We were a divided nation back then as the Vietnam war dragged on, much the same as we are today but the space program gave us something that we could all rally around and feel good about. I don't sense that we have any sort of common bond in today's world; possibly getting the economy moving again, maybe. The space program caused you to pause and realize what man is capable of. I miss that spirit.

The Space Shuttle is currently circling the globe but it's pretty much become 'ho-hum' anymore and it shouldn't be.

I don't suppose a rekindling of space exploration is on our nation's short list of pressing matters but maybe it should be. Rather than having our youngest generation imprint on some overpaid, self absorbed athlete or entertainer they could actually have real life heroes to emulate. Imagine that.