Fall - Photo Set 3 of 6 - Soccer

We are down to the last two soccer games of the year.  The temperature should be in the low 40's for the first one and in the high 40's for the second.  One word, BRRR.

I've been encouraging the team I coach to wear their costumes.  I saw a few of those costumes today at the school.  Picture an Egyptian, a foot ball player, and Annie as forwards, with a kitty cat in the goalie box.  I'm thinking Frankenstein might also make an appearance.  It should be a great time.

 
Our youngest player, featured here in the thick of the struggle, is already done for the season.

I really enjoy going to the games and spending time with my kids, but I must admit, I'm pretty excited for that last game of the season to end.  Why?  Because that's when the trick-or-treating starts!

How about you?  What 'season' do you really look forward to the end of?

Clark

The Bolt Box

For as long as I can remember, I have saved little bolts, nuts, springs, and stuff like that in a small, beat up, toy safe I got when I was a kid.  To the untrained eye it’s quite a mess of odd junk.  Okay, trained or not, it’s a mess.  But for 25 years or more, through a couple remodels and many a move, I have always kept track of the little box – and often gone to it in a pinch.  I can only think right now of one thing I’ve had since I was very young.  Hard to believe, but it’s this beat up old box full of screws and stuff. 

This hasn’t always been the home for all the loose metal bolts and things; it used to be a sweet Fort Knox coin bank with a change slot in the top.  It even had a working dial on the front like a real safe.  It must have been one of my brothers that broke that feature off.  When it was no longer secure for money, I converted it to the bolt box.  And that’s what it’s been called ever since. 

The way this works is I’m working on a project and need just the right nut or tiny bolt.  I go to the box and pour all the contents out on a large flat space and start to digging and sorting.  Nine times out of ten, I find exactly something that will work. 

Yesterday I took my car to the dealer to get the heater worked on.  The heater itself works fine but a few weeks ago I was moving the lever from cold to hot and, POP, something inside there broke.  I thought I could just deal with it all winter but after a few cold and scary hours yesterday of steamed up windows in a freezing cold car, I decided I was done with being a mountain man this winter.   

You can probably tell where this is going, but the story is worth it so hang on. 

I used to be able to fix anything: alarm clocks, turntables, cars, whatever.  But now I’m too busy or lazy or terrified by all the computers they put in things these days, so I don’t touch anything in my car other than the gas tank lid and the radio buttons.

Well, I dropped my car off at the dealer, where I was told it would be $109 to diagnose the problem.  Okay, that’s a ton to just figure out what’s wrong, but I figured it wouldn’t be more than that to fix the actual problem.  Boy was I wrong.  A few hours later I got the call.  I’m just glad I was sitting at my desk at the time.  $570.66, I was told, to replace the HVAC control panel which had gone bad. 

After a few deep breaths and a little pep talk to myself on why I shouldn’t cry on the phone, I told the guy to go ahead.  Can you believe he had the nerve at that point to also describe about six other issues wrong with my car?  We aren’t talking about the sweetest ride on the lot, and he already got a ton out of me for the HVAC thinger, so let me alone already, will ya? 

He said he would have to ship the part in and it would take a couple days.  Okay, I can live without the car until then, but no way can I live without the soccer bag.  I am the assistant coach, you know.  People depend on me to bring the bag to practice.  So I told him I might be by later to get some stuff out.  Okay, he said.

In the mean time its FREEZING here this week.  And from my desk I could see my neighborhood a few miles away was being trounced by some freak storm that had settled in that corner of the valley.  I emailed the coach and asked if he was planning on practicing tonight. 

While I waited for his reply, I decided there was no way we were having practice, but I better get the bag anyway, just in case the head coach thinks otherwise.  Nancy took me to the shop after work and I noticed the dash was all pulled apart so I took a look.  While I’m checking it out, I saw how the whole thing fit together and pushed a little cable to heard the flap that switches the air to the heater.  I started up the car and the heat worked fine.  I looked around some more and saw that it’s like the easiest thing in the world to fix this problem.  Even without the heater, my temperature was now on the rise and stormed in to talk to the mechanic about this little HVAC dealie. 

He explained that I must not have seen the broken piece of plastic that holds the back of the hot/cold lever in place.  We talked for a minute more and then I went back out to figure out what he was talking about.  Okay, I saw it then, a tiny worthless piece of plastic that broke off of a much larger and more expensive part. 

Nancy was driving us home and I was fuming about this terrible design.  I was also thinking about how bad I hate working on cars.  I was also thinking about the $570.66 that will have to go on my credit card. 

I was also thinking about my lifelong friend Shane, who taught me a thing or two about “Southern Engineering” as we used to call it.  (Oh the stories I could tell . . . he once built a three wheeled motorized machine out of two bikes and an old lawn mower engine.  He was a master at controlling the thing.  I only rode on it one time and have a huge scar on my side from the electric barbed wire fence I ran into.  But that’s a story for another time.)

Shane would laugh at me if I paid the $570.66 for such a dumb little thin, and rightfully so.  I’m sure I can do it, I just didn’t want to. 

By the time we got home, I had figured out what I would do.  The first thing I did was grab the trusty bolt box.  I poured it out and found about 30 possible solutions.  I then grabbed some good glue, a piece of sandpaper, and a few other small tools before driving back to the dealer. 

It was dark by the time I got there but the gate was still open.  I didn’t want to talk to anyone so I drove around back, parked next to my car, and got in.  I set up a flashlight under the dashboard and got to work.  I’m sure if anyone saw me they would have been alarmed by someone working under the dashboard of one of the cars, lit from below by a flashlight.  I looked up every minute or so, just to make sure I wasn’t going to be surprised by the Sheriff when he came.  20 minutes later, no sign of the police, I was headed home with a $570.66 smile on my face. 

I thought about calling Shane in Texas but figured he‘d just laugh at me for even taking the car to the shop in the first place.  I’ll bet he’d remember the old safe, though, full of miscellaneous hardware.  It had saved my bacon again. 

This morning I called the shop to tell them what I had done.  Later I went in later to pay my bill.  On the receipt it says, “customer came last night and rigged it himself.”  Maybe I will give Shane a call.

How about you?  Who should you be calling just because you need to reminisce about the old days for a few minutes?

Clark

Fall – Photo Set 2 of 6 – Pumpkins

It snowed all day today.  Suddenly my planned entries featuring photos of fall colors seem just a tad bit dated.  After another storm tomorrow, the weatherman says it will be in the 50’s next week.  I rarely believe what the weatherman tells me, but, in this case, I will hope it’s the truth.  Either way, I will keep posting as planned.

The first two photos are of a pumpkin patch I passed a few days ago.  I actually pass by this way every couple weeks or so.  I had noticed the field a few times in the past, with its expanse of vines and huge, green leaves.  If I looked carefully, I could occasionally make out the orange shape of a growing pumpkin.  The last time I went by, someone had cut back the vines a few days before in preparation for the big harvest.  I had absolutely no idea there were so many pumpkins in there.

While I was taking photos, a group of men were filling large pumpkin delivery boxes.  The boxes were loaded on long, flatbed semi trailers, about 14 boxes per trailer.  They had a long day of work ahead of them.

Ohp, how did this one get in there?

A fun shot of one of my pumpkins, up on the table, spinning his new toy on the lazy susan.

How about you?  Besides spinning pumpkins, of course, what do you enjoy most about Fall?

Clark

Fall - Photo Set 1 of 6 - Leaves

Fall has always been my favorite time of year.  Fall is all about the senses: the colors of the sunsets and the changing leaves, the feel of the cool evening air and a warm jacket, the taste of good, home cooking, and the sound of crunching leaves or migrating birds all make fall amazing for me.  But, of all the reasons, the smell of fall is what pushes this one over the top and makes it my favorite time of year.  I love good smells: the smell of clean skin or a fresh rose, the smell of a baby's hair, and the smell of cookies or bread baking; These are a few of my favorite things. 

I also love how closely the sense of smell is associated with memory.  The other day I was walking around the block, taking great, deep breaths of crisp air when a memory slowly came to mind of a small apartment complex I lived in with my mom and next oldest brother.  Our back door opened to a grassy area with a wide creek running through the middle of it.  Along the sides of the creek were maple trees.  Lots of them.  Suddenly I was there again, standing next to the creek, watching my mom's cousin lasso my tricycle and pull it out of the water.  A short time earlier, I had been riding it on the small patio behind our apartment.  When I ventured onto the grass, the gradual slope of the hill took me quickly toward the creek.  Fortunately, I jumped off just before my tricycle tumbled into the cold, fast-moving water.  I hadn't thought about that experience for years. 

Today has been kind of a hard day.  Sometimes I think too much.  Sometimes I don't do enough.  Sometimes I feel like I'm being pulled down a gradual hill, faster, faster, faster, toward a wide, cold, fast moving place that I don't want to be.

I'm much too young for a midlife crisis, but I wonder if this is what it feels like.  Should I jump?  Can I jump?  How bad will jumping hurt compared to going in the drink? 

All of a sudden I have the words to an old song by The Clash going through my head.  "Should I stay or should I go?  If I stay it will be trouble.  If I go it will be double. 

"So come on and let me know . . . Should I cool it or should I blow?"

While you think about that, here are a couple other photos of fall colors to enjoy.  I can't give you the smells that go along with the photos, but if you know the song above, you should at least have a little tune running around in your head.

This was on a narrow, two lane, but very busy road in the mountains.  We were driving slow and cars were piling up behind us.  Nancy was driving so I could hang my camera out the window and shoot.  We pulled over for a second at a wide spot in the road and I looked back to see this lone orange/red maple, lit up perfectly in the afternoon sun. 

This was on the same drive, near the top of the pass.  What an amazing view of the back of the mountain.  Photos rarely do a scene like this justice.  If I had a panorama camera about 5 frames wide and 3 tall, you might get a little feel for what this view was like.

How about you?  What's your favorite Season?  What's your favorite Sense?  What's your midlife crisis going to be like?

Clark

Daddy's Little Girl

First Posted May 20th, 2009 on el Bed.com

Today I took a day off to spend it with my oldest daughter. As mentioned a few days ago, her class went to the JA Biz City simulation and I volunteered to help. We each worked in different businesses, she in the restaurant and I helped out at the bank, so we actually only got to see each other a few times. We did take a short break toward the end of the day and walked around the town together. We strolled past all the busy shops, full of children trying to get things done, and talked about how fun today had been so far.

The day was a great experience for both of us. She learned a few things about running a business and balancing a personal checkbook. I got to spend the day with about 100 kids who were having fun at pretending they were big people. We ended up at the restaurant for a snack and some photos of her standing out front. My little CFO daughter, 11 years old today.

11 years ago things were pretty messed up as far as business and finances go. The company I had worked so hard to build was falling apart around me. Over the next two years we lost everything worth anything and ended up with a massive pile of debt. Eventually, I lost the business and we sold our house to pay off a large and looming debt. With other creditors still calling, we moved in with Nancy's parents to save money and begin the rebuilding process. Maybe it goes without saying, but this was a tough time for us.

In that long time of darkness, one bright, little light stands out in my memory. She was that one, sweet, little girl, whose smile was infectious, whose hugs would brighten your day, and who’s love kept her daddy going. It was in that time in my life that I wrote the following words.

It's been a long, rough day.
Finally, I am home.
I’m feeling very beat,
So tired, and alone.

It all goes away,
When open swings the door.
And I hear the running feet,
Of baby, I adore.

Now everything's okay.
I lift her in a twirl.
When I see the grin, so sweet,
Of Daddy's Little Girl.


(Her Smile, November 1999)


Today gave me a few moments to reflect on my life with this girl, my relationship to her, and the debt of gratitude she is owed by me. Today has also given me a glimpse into how our relationship might progress through the years as she grows up and moves on into the world.

I love the memories I have of her and I will cherish them forever. I also look forward to what lies ahead and am so excited for many future lunch-hour walks in the company of this treasured daughter with the beautiful smile.

How about you? Who are some of the most important people to you and why?

Clark

I Mean . . .

I mean, what is it with the phrase, “I mean?” I mean, you hear this thing everywhere these days, at work, in social settings, at the store, even on public radio. I mean, its buggy. I first noticed this phenomenon a few weeks ago at work. It’s hard to believe, but it was me that I caught saying it - and I mean A LOT! I mean, I was spouting these two words off at the beginning of every sentence I started. At first I only noticed once in a while, but after a few minutes of conversation, I was fully freaking out at my latest quirky habit. I couldn’t believe my ears.

Here’s how the conversation went. My coworker said something like, “What did you think of Jim’s proposal in the meeting today?”

And my response was something like, “I mean, it was okay. I mean, you can tell he did his homework on it.”

Even before I finished the sentence, I’m thinking to myself, “did I just say, ‘I mean,’ two times in a row? That was weird. I wonder how long I’ve been doing that. I hope no one else has noticed.”

To my comments about Jim’s proposal, my friend came back with, “Do you think the rest of the team will go for it?”

My reply, “I mean, if they do go for it, it will take a while before we see any benefit.”

“There’s that phrase again,” I said to myself. “‘I mean?’ What’s going on with that?”

My friend, not knowing I’m having a full conversation with myself, jumps in with, “you’re right about that. How many months do you think it would take?”

My reply, you guessed it, “I mean, maybe six or eight.”

What exactly did I mean by, “I mean?” I mean, the phrase, “I mean” doesn’t have anything to do with anything going on here, so I’m pretty sure I don’t need to say, “I mean,” yet, because, I haven’t said anything that needs to be clarified.

Finally I just told my friend I couldn’t talk about it anymore because I was too stressed out.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” I shouted back. “I mean, listen to me!”

After a few seconds of silence, he slipped quietly out of my office and hasn’t tried talking to me much since then.

At first I thought it was just a filler word or a nervous habit, like one possessed by a good friend of mine, who says, “you know,” quite a bit. The larger the group, the more times you hear this phrase wedged in this way and that. Once, in a room full of people, I clocked him at twenty-three “you knows” a minute. And, I mean, you know, I’m telling you, he can stick, you know, this phrase in, you know, anywhere.

But it seems the phrase, “I mean” is a little different than other filler words or phrases that only a few people use. I mean, once I finally discovered this little quirk in myself, I started to hear it everywhere. And it wasn’t just simple folks like me sticking this thing out there everywhere it wasn’t supposed to be; even smart people were saying it. I heard it in important work meetings, from the pulpit at church, from sports stars, and even (dare I say?) from the news anchorman on TV. What is this world coming to?

I mean, maybe this is something special. Maybe this phrase, “I mean,” is the mother of all filler phrases. I mean, maybe this one has replaced all the old ones from that past. Think about it, you know, you don’t hear that word, “um,” much anymore.

When I was a kid, it was very popular to say, “Um” all the time. I mean, you would hear this word five, ten, maybe twenty times during a speech at school. Maybe “I mean” is the new equivalent of “um.” All of us kids grew up being chastised by teachers and parents for saying, “um.” So we dropped the nasty, dumb word and picked up something much more intelligent-sounding. Maybe “I mean” is just the smart way, the grown up way of, um, well, you know, not saying, “Um.”

Obviously, “I mean” beats “um” any day of the week; it’s smart, it’s bold, it’s assertive and, well, I’m starting to like it. I mean, maybe this is a good filler phrase after all.

So there you go. I mean, if you must pick one, you know, choose wisely. As I see it, you have three main choices: the very dated, and not so, you know, bright, “um,” or the more down to earth, humble and gracious, “you know,” or the brash, in your face, “I mean.” Uh, I mean, if you’re going to stick something weird in there, then at least, you know, do it right.

How about you? I mean, what kinds of quirks are you tuned into?

Clark

Smarter Than Me

First Posted May 18, 2009 on el Bed.com

The other day I sent an email to a guy at work. I was answering a question for him that required some online research. As part of the response, I cut and pasted the ratio 20 to 100 into the text of my reply to him. He later asked if 20 to 100 was the same as 1 to 5. He’s a smart guy and sometimes funny so I’m not sure if he was over-analyzing or just messing with me. I joked back and that was about the end of it.

It seems like we used to learn this kind of stuff in Jr. High School. Now days, kids learn these things in about the 4th grade. Just that morning, I was helping my 5th grader with some math homework. To be perfectly honest, I had no idea what she was doing. I’m normally quite comfortable with math but this was news to me. Outside, I was a calm, supportive, intelligent father. Inside, I was a wreck. I kept chanting to myself, “Fake it till you make it. Fake it till you make it.”

Eventually I figured it out and was able to help with her questions. It was a great boost to my morale to figure out this grade school math all by myself.

Later that evening I went to Junior Achievement’s City, where grade school age kids go to learn how to be adults for a day. JA Biz Town is what the kids call it. I volunteered to help with my daughter’s class when they go next week and needed to get my training done.

This place was Unbelievable (with a capitol U). Picture a miniature town square in the middle of a large room, with 20 businesses built up around the edge. The businesses included: a car dealership, a furniture store, two banks, a real estate office, a newspaper, radio and television stations, a copy center, and over ten other businesses. Each one was incredibly detailed and realistic. Some kids will be managers and some will be workers and sales people. They will work, get paid, write checks, and buy things they need for work and personal use. My daughter will be the CFO of the restaurant, where kids can go get a drink on their breaks.

I was blown away by the detail, the preparation, and the obvious care that has gone into planning this curriculum. Here is a program that is actually teaching kids what life is like in the real world. I am so excited to go there this week for the actual simulation. It should be a great experience for everyone involved, bringing new meaning to the phrase, fake it till you make it.

Just now, as I was typing this, my daughter, who I gallantly helped with her math homework last week, just came over and read what I have been typing. “I got half of those answers wrong,” she said and walked away. Hopefully the children are more successful with the mantra than I was.

How about you?  What impresses you most about the up and coming generation?

Clark