I recently celebrated my 59th birthday.Granted we all live in 24 hour compartments and they are the same length for each of us.But when you have tallied up enough days you begin to realize that the supply is not unlimited.I have known people who died young and that is a tragedy.I have seen and known people who lived too long and that too is tragic in its own way.
Ten years ago this summer my sister died.She was 59.Sis and I always had a special relationship.I was the youngest of three.She was ten years older.She was actively involved in my care when I was young.We were always close.She was a wonderful woman who lived an extraordinary life when faced with tragic and difficult circumstances.I learned from watching her that a person can survive even the greatest trials.She always looked out for me.
One of the things I learned from her is to not leave things left unsaid.My feelings for those close to me are strong.I care deeply.I often am unable to articulate those feelings.I think it is a guy thing.As I traverse the milestone that is my 59th year, I have a desire to live in such a way that nothing is left unsaid.One of my guiding principles comes from the Bible in the book of Ephesians.“Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth, but only such a word as is good for edification according to the need of the moment, so that it will give grace to those who hear.” (Eph 4:29)
I have great admiration for the people in my life.I am surrounded by extraordinarily gifted and talented individuals.My wife, my children, my grandchildren and coworkers are amazing people.They need to know—I need to tell them.
I learned recently that my blog actually has readers. Shock! Humbling! When my favorite daughter-in-law went to pick up Reese at school, her teacher inquired, "Who is Reese's grandfather?" Evidently Reese had informed her that her Granddad writes and makes movies. (see vegas entries) Lara set the record straight by letting the teacher know that I write a blog and she reads it to Reese.
Needless to say, the knowledge that you have readers changes the way you write. (Hi Reese!) More importantly, the knowledge that someone is watching alters the way we behave, or should. (see back to school entry)
Last weekend I had the privilege of having Adam's family (I love saying that) stay with me in NH. On Sunday morning Reese had a difference of opinion with her mom that erupted into a demonstration requiring a time out. (See picture right, "who me?") Reese accepted the judgment of her mom, as she should, and went to sit in the corner and contemplate her behavior, her relationship with mom, and who knows what else she was contemplating. She whimpered some but not much and when time was served we all went on with our day.
Moments later, little brother Hudson evidently decided that he wanted to be like sis. We looked in the corner and there he sat, whimpering and contemplating how cool it was to be like Reese.
When my daughter was between one and two years old, it is accurate to say that she was a young lady with her own agenda. Her words, or lack of them, her facial expressions, her every gesture was one with purpose--hers. She was a mini control freak--until the sippy cup lid.
Sara had a sippy cup the lid of which had a convex bottom. If I sat the lid on the table and hit down sharply on its edge, it would fly up into the air a couple of feet, spinning end over end. This broke the icy composure of the control princess and reduced her to a helpless adorable giggling treasure. We played this game every night for a while. It got to the point that I only had to reach for the cup lid and she would begin to snicker. Thirty two years later this is still one of my life treasures--the memory of my cackling daughter.
Fast forward to the year 2010. At my work vendors will often send us trinkets to get our attention with the hopes that we will remember their name and evaluate their products. Last Monday I got such a toy from an insurance company. It was a half sphere rubber ball with a sort of a golf tee device sticking through the axis. The instructions said to invert the sphere, hold it six to ten inches from a hard surface, and spin it with the tee device, dropping it at the same time. I followed the instructions and the sphere hit the surface and with a loud pop flew all the way to the ceiling. I was immediately transported to 1979 and the sippy cup adventure.
I immediatly grabbed a padded envelope and addressed it to Gwendolyn H. Tyler in New York. I taped the instructions onto the ball and wrote a note telling her to enlist the help of her father with the fun. (He is totally qualified to assist.) Off in the mail. I started calling on Wednesday to see if it had arrived. The US Mail was unaware of the importance of the package and did not deliver it until Saturday. Gwendolyn, knowing she was expecting a package waited patiently. (see photo right)
Then it happened. Today I got a video on my phone that completed my time travel journey. See and hear what I experienced in 1979 and in 2010. Same giggle, same joy. Thank you Emrys and Sara for the assist.
“Rules are made for when brains run out”, Matt Eaton
I have a good friend and former co-worker who is a graduate of West Point.We had many discussions ranging topics from finance to philosophy, politics to polemics.We have jousted with windmills we found in the corporate world and with those we saw in the world of policymaking.One of his favorite proverbs was, “Rules are made for when brains run out.”
This is undiluted truth.I experienced it today.For some reason my briefcase which has traveled with me on countless flights has now become a shady bag.The x-ray technician at the airport determined my leather companion to be suspect and in need of further scrutiny.I was politely asked to move to a separate area where I watched Barney Fife take a cotton patch and wipe the inside of my briefcase, sort of a accessory pap smear if you will, and put the cotton patch into what I believe to be a anti-terrorist sphygnogroptamassameter.Much to my surprise, my bag, without my knowledge, has evidently been exposing itself to substances that make the sphygnogroptamassameter very excitable and prone to beeps and tones.
Where could it have gone wrong? It has been such a good bag for so many years.I rarely let it out of my sight.Could it be cavorting with shady backpacks or, dare I say it, purses without my knowledge?Substance abuse! Who would have known?
Now I am an accessory to a suspect accessory.Barney’s comrade steps me over to the TSA welcome mat where I am told to remove my belt and empty my pockets while Barney unloads my bag and inspects all the contents.He carefully examines each and every phone, headset, and computer charger, while his partner, let’s call him Andy, carefully inspects me.First the wand, then the hands—first the front, then the back.Shoeless, beltless, and bag-less I wait for Barney and Andy to determine that the contents of my briefcase are worthy to board a Southwest flight.
Then it happens.Attached to my keychain is a 2.25” swiss army knife in a small leather holster that I had forgotten to remove.This diminutive blade was almost useful for cutting up an apple, and very helpful for letter opening and emergency hangnail clipping, is in the words of Barney Fife, “something that should not be on board an aircraft.”I am given my options and bid farewell to the tiny tool and am allowed to gather my things and begin to dress myself again.
We have all seen it—dutiful civil servants patting down Nana as she enjoys some attention that she can get nowhere else; travelers frantically removing shoes, computers and arguing over 4.5 oz bottles of contact lense solution as “the man” assures them that the extra 1.5 ounces over the limit will endanger the rest of the passengers and the planet; and the incremental striptease as the metal detector requires the removal of the belt, then the pen, then the glasses, then….bada bing!
Which brings me back to Matt’s undeniable truth:“Rules are made for when brains run out”.The TSA is a master of the obvious.If a person wanted to destroy a plane in flight they would probably not use the obvious tools that have been used before.As seen on Christmas Eve, underwear could be a weapon.I am surprised that TSA does not now require us all to drop trou so that they can scan the skivvies.Granted there have been no new airline tragedies since 9/11/2001 for which we are all thankful.The TSA is eager to take credit for that.But screening the obvious is an exercise not in safety but in psychology.Anyone with a brain would be able to tell the difference between a briefcase and a bomb.That is why we have rules, x-rays, and phygnogroptamassameters so that Barney can do his job and we can all be safe. However, someone who really wants to hurt us will likely use the not so obvious device. Here is hoping that while Barney is groping Nana, the real threat is not walking through the security area with lethal socks.
I really was being good all day. I drove 5 miles under the speed limit most of the day, if you can believe that. The limit was 75 and I drove 70.
EXCEPT, when I did not see the 45 mph sign on the construction zone and thought the limit was 55, which I did see.
According to the trooper, who was not impressed with my lack of observational skills or my heavy right foot, I am in need of further driving education, or an immediate cashectomy of $300. (A cashectomy, for those of you who don't know is when the government extracts funds from you without an anesthetic. See, income taxes, estate taxes, sales taxes, etc.) Being quick with numbers i deduce that $189.50 for school and dismissal of the fine and points is a better deal that $300. So off to school I go.
There are moments in my life that I can revisit at will. I can go to them in my mind and see and feel what I saw and felt then and time travel back to that experience. One such instance is when at age 9 or so I was at church in the plenary meeting before we divided into our separate classes. The room was packed. A young lady came in and was standing by the door looking for a seat. I stood to offer her my seat. She walked across the room and sat elsewhere. I was standing there—next to my empty seat—horribly embarrassed. I can go back to that moment and feel that discomfort. That day chivalry died for many years to follow. Probably the first time I really had that kind of public experience. There was another in high school when a mistake on my part cost our basketball team an important victory. I was crushed—I still remember it.
On a more positive note I remember the first time, thirty two years ago today that I set eyes on Sara Jane Wheat, now Tyler. Her face was red. Her chin quivered as she lifted her complaint about the new environment she had been thrust into, and the difficult transit she had just experienced. It was love at first sight—at least on my part.
Her mother was sure she was a boy until Sara proved her otherwise. We had a girls name picked out as a contingency but our friends named their daughter Jessica in January of 1978 so we decided that would not work. Many at the El Reno hospital commented on the beauty of our new baby. On day two, which was a Saturday, we agreed that we would call her Sara Jane. Sara (means princess) because we had a friend in Tennessee named Sara and we thought it a beautiful name; Jane in honor of my sister Nelda Jane. We found out later that Sara’s great-great-grandmother on her mom’s side was named Sara Jane, spelled the same way.
The next morning I had breakfast at the Boll Weevil Café in Fort Cobb, Oklahoma where we lived. A friend of mine asked me if I was disappointed that we did not get a son. I told her, “Not at all!” Her reply, “Just remember, a son is yours until he takes a wife, but a girl is yours for the rest of your life.”
This is a true statement. I remember clearly walking down the aisle with her in the church in Durango and blessing the union with her chosen mate. I can still feel the pain of sitting in my living room, hearing “Dad its cancer.” We cried together and prayed for healing. I remember driving to New York in January 2009 to meet a new princess, a joy in her own right. Our Gwendolyn Hope is definitely an heir to the crown.
I have moments that are frozen in time in my heart. Many of those moments are connected to my Sara. She is my favorite daughter and always will be. Happy birthday Sis.
