More than one friend has emailed me because of my sudden stop in posting here. One of them told me that the complete stop after a fairly steady pace of posts had him concerned; he said he was worried that I’d been ‘hit by a bus.’ Well, no – not literally anyhow – but close enough. I’ve been on a project for work for almost a month now that has consumed every waking moment (and then some) so I’ve been unable to even think about the blog, much less spend time writing posts. I am now at the end of that project (hopefully) and have a work sales conference starting tonight and lasting through Friday then I should be done for a while, so life should be returning to (ab)normal over the next few days. I don’t know that I will maintain anything like the frequency of posts I did in Dec but I will try not to go weeks between posts either.

I have several posts in progress that I will hopefully find time to complete after I take a couple of days to recover. In the mean time I have a couple of things I’ve been meaning to post – all to do with Courtney, oddly enough – but haven’t found the time to. So, in no particular order, here they are:

Every year the school Courtney goes to has a big deal around hitting the 100th day of school. I don’t know if that is common or not – it wasn’t when I was a kid – but it is the norm here, at least. As part of that whole event the kids were given assignments related to the number 100. One of those was to take 100 of anything and make something interesting/creative with them. Courtney decided that she was going to get 100 paperclips and link them together into a chain. Since that would be terribly boring and would require nearly zero effort I told her we should find something else to do. We ultimately ended up sticking with paperclips, but decided we would make a mobile. I thought it would be fun to do, more interesting than a chain and would have educational potential as well. This picture is what we ended up with. I obviously handled bending out the paperclips to act as decorations at the bottom of each chain but we worked together on the rest. We met the requirement of using 100 paperclips but, more importantly, we had a blast doing it. Before I get any criticism on my involvement, making this a parent/child project was encouraged.

And, speaking of Courtney’s school, we finally got to go in and meet her teacher for the gifted program. The program is amazing, and the teacher is awesome. She seemed to be one of those rare teachers who takes an intense interest in her kids. Well, to be fair, Courtney’s school has an abnormally high number of those – her school cluster is why we live where we do. The classroom was engaging and the curriculum… wow! I can see why they are so stringent on the entry requirements for the program. We discussed lots but I can summarize fairly neatly: We will need to come back in a couple of months to see the PowerPoint presentations each kid will have produced presenting the results of their research into some subject. As soon as they are done with that they will start algebra. This is first grade.

If I can take a moment to brag on her school a little more (as if the above isn’t enough), I discovered that her school grouping is one of the very few in the state who was given the ability to set curriculum independent of the state guidelines. They earned the right because of the consistently high test scores they had. The state superintendent of schools came to spend a couple of days there talking to teachers to try and figure out how they are doing it. And last night I learned that, starting next year, the highschool will have a program in place to have students participate in joint enrollment at Georgia Tech!! While that won’t matter to Courtney for another 8 to 10 years, it is still amazing. For those not familiar with GaTech, they are consistently ranked in the top 5 engineering schools nationally along with little schools like, oh, I dunno, MIT. The beat out other, better known schools like Carnegie-Mellon by a significant margin. It is truly one of those “pick your job” schools. In case you can’t tell, daddy is very pleased with the meeting, teacher and school.

And last, but certainly not least, Courtney celebrated her seventh birthday a few weeks ago. We had eight six and seven year old girls spend the night. It was…interesting. If you are ever in a similar situation, let me share this one bit of advice: You don’t want to be too close to the girls when a Hannah Montana song comes on on Disney radio. Trust me. I’ll just be glad when I get my hearing back. Anyhow, here are a few pictures of the ‘big event.’

Until next time; peace.
/g

While waiting on the rest of the girls to arrive they sat in a circle on the floor and gossiped. How early it starts!

Them congregating on the stairs (I didn’t put them there or pose them) for some reason. I just realized looking at these that I never got all of the girls in a single shot. It was truly like herding cats.

A “Fur Real” turned out to be her favorite present.

Her opening presents with Emma’s help

…and opening…

…and opening.

ohmgosh!

She dug her new PJs.

The beginning of a teddybear relay. They had to run to the next room, put one article of clothing on the bear and bring the bear back to the next on their team. First team to get the bear fully outfitted, wins. This was one of the several activities to make them think they were having fun while, in fact, wearing them out. -muh-ha-ha-ha-

On the way to work this morning I hit a slowdown in traffic and noticed everyone merging into the right lane just ahead. As I crested the small rise I saw why. A small pickup truck was on its side across the road, blocking the suicide lane and the inner lane on my side of the road, the top of the truck facing traffic. The accident had happened recently enough that no emergency response of any sort had arrived yet but, more notably for me, no one else had stopped either. From the time I saw the truck to the time I got there something close to 100 cars passed it. Everyone was just merging over to get around the truck and go on with their day. Well, that isn’t entirely accurate, I guess. There were a few people who had pulled over into an adjacent parking lot and were sitting in their cars gawking. I got the distinct impression they were wishing for some popcorn. Now, I’m no physician and I knew that there was probably nothing I could do to help the person in that truck, save for providing a little company until help arrived but I stopped just the same.

While this particular incident set a new low (though not by much) it was hardly an isolated case. If only it were. A couple of years ago while driving down I-185 in Columbus, GA I noticed a car up ahead on the right shoulder with someone standing behind it. As I got closer I saw that it was a grandma-mobile, complete with grandma standing behind it. With the trunk open. And all her groceries out on the ground. And grandma trying feverishly to get the tire out of the well in the trunk. Unfortunately it outweighed her so she didn’t seem to be making much headway. Oh, did I mention it was June?

You don’t have to be Matlock to deduce a few things about this scene. Grandma had gotten a flat tire and pulled over and she had been there long enough to unload a considerable load of groceries, remove the jack and attempt to get the tire out, several times from the looks of her. So she’d been standing there in near 100° heat with humidity hovering around 95% (welcome to summer in the South) while many hundreds, or perhaps thousands of cars passed her by. And when I say grandma, I mean really, obviously, very much a grandma. She was perhaps seventy and all of 4′8″. Very threatening, lemme tell ya.

Traffic was anything but light and I was four lanes away (in the fast lane, big surprise) so I was unable to safely get over and stop to help her. Having noticed the conspicuous shortage of help, I went to the next exit about a mile up, doubled back and drove the five miles back to the previous exit and circled back to find her still standing there, still trying unsuccessfully to get the tire out of the car. All of that took me more than ten minutes and she was still there alone. I suspect it took me longer to get back to help her than it did to change the tire and have her on her way, melted ice cream and all. And when I initially approached her she offered to pay me to change the tire for her. Pay me. Really. There was no possible way I would’ve accepted her money. Even if I had been so inclined to I’m pretty sure my grandma Mead, rest her soul, would be waiting for me in heaven to grab me by my ear and give me a long talkin’ to, complete with disappointed look. Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to experience that.

Then there was the lady and her six year old that Christy and I stopped to pick up. They had already gotten over a half mile down a busy highway from their broken down car without anyone stopping. And the time that Christy’s car died in the road at a busy intersection with a then 3 year old Courtney in the car. I was out of town and AAA takes forever to respond in this area so there she sat, half in the road, for over an hour before someone stopped to at least help her push the car completely clear of the traffic lane. That good soul was an elderly gentleman on his way home from his dialysis treatment.

And on and on it goes. I guess I really shouldn’t be shocked. I’m suppose this is not a new problem. You only have to look as far as the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke to know that there have always been those happy to pass by on the other side of the road from someone in need.  Even so, I still can’t get past incidents like these. I mean, don’t we all have grandmothers? Can’t we all imagine it might be us in that overturned truck one day? Can’t we all recognize that it could just as easily be our wife and child? Very, very few things in life truly, completely elude my understanding, but I’m afraid this does.

And I’m not relating these stories to cast myself as some wonderful person. That would be a little like bragging about not beating up the weak kid or not robbing a bank. What I did in both cases cost me nothing but a small amount of time and neither in neither case did I do anything that I would consider beyond the barest minimum of what passes for humanity. And, unless it was jerk’s only day on the interstate (kinda like ‘couples only’ or ‘backwards only’ skate at the skating rink) and I just missed the announcement, I’m reasonably sure that many people who otherwise pass for “good people” drove past that day. They must have. I can only suppose that each rationalized why they couldn’t stop. I really don’t know.

The good news in this case is that the guy in the truck had already climbed out with nothing more serious than the stray scrape or bruise and grandma suffered nothing beyond they previously mentioned loss of ice cream but either case could have ended much worse. I could understand someone not stopping to help, say, me. I’m a big guy who might be up to no good. But, c’mon, an eldely lady? A mother and child? Someone in an over-turned vehicle? And all in very busy public places. If someone can explain this to me, please do. As it stands now, I can only shake my head in dismay. The Good Book tells us that the Good Samaritan was a helpful neighbor to the man who had been robbed and enjoins us to “Go and do likewise.” Am I the only one that finds it a little depressing that we should even have to be told?

/g

I’d never given much thought to how I portrayed myself to others online, I was just me. To be honest, it just never occurred to me to wonder how I might be perceived so I never gave it much thought. At least, until a few nights ago I hadn’t. I was chatting with an online friend who I’ve never met in real life. Let’s call her ‘C’ for simplicity here. As is often the case my wife, Christy, was sitting with me and could see the conversation. To be honest, I don’t even recall what we were chatting about. Out of the blue Christy asked me something to the effect of “Goodness, honey, did you also tell her about your blue spandex suit with the red cape and big ‘S’ on the chest?” After shuddering at the thought of myself in a full-body spandex suit of any color I told her that I had not, of course, mentioned any such suit but I think I might have dropped a few hints about the Bat Cave. Then I asked her what the heck she was talking about.

In answer, she pointed out that I might be painting a bigger than life portrait of myself for my friend. Over the past few months I’ve talked to Christy about many of the conversations C and I have had and I guess she had, without really thinking about it, been compiling a mental list. She started to tick off a list of the things she knew I’d talked about. In my many chats online I’ve mentioned to C that, among other things, I am: 6′7″, a pilot (who has crashed and walked away unscathed, no less), a scuba diver, a white water rafter, a caver, into martial arts, a security expert who speaks at conferences and whose job involves peripheral involvement with the FBI, a world traveler, a photographer and photography instructor, a God fearing, church going, loving husband and father who adores his wife, dotes on his kids and even cooks. I may, in fact, even be the world’s coolest dad since I went to great lengths to take my teenage daughter to a Coldplay concert and with amazing seats at that. And those are just the facts that sprang to mind immediately. I’m sure that, given a few minutes to think, I could double or triple the list.

It isn’t that I set out to portray myself in that light at all but I am an adventure junkie and, over the course of 40 years I’ve managed to do a number of interesting things. And, let’s be honest, those things are the ones that you tend to remember and, hence, talk about in the course of general conversation. All of those things are absolutely true but aggregately they paint an unrealistic picture. Especially when you factor in that some of them are strictly sporadic pursuits. I’ve only been in a few wild caves and only white water raft once or twice every couple of years. I haven’t been scuba diving in six years, and haven’t set foot in a dojo since I don’t know when. A very long time, to be sure. My crash wasn’t of the lawn dart like variety that springs to mind when one hears “plane crash.” Rather, it was a belly landing forced by a landing gear failure. Yes, it was a crash and yes, I did slide a couple thousand feet down a concrete runway with the metal belly of the plane acting as a poor substitute for wheels, and yes, it was both very exciting and terrifying and could have ended very differently, but it isn’t necessarily what it sounds like just the same.

Add to that the fact that people don’t tend to talk about their faults online. Heck, I don’t find many people eager to talk about them in real life either for that matter, and I’m no exception. But at least in real life you have the chance to observe them first hand and generally tend to pick up on the bad and good together over time. Rarely does the fact that you like kicking puppies pop up in the course of a normal conversation online. I’m not saying I like to kick puppies; I rather like puppies. I’m only trying to say that, if I did, it isn’t the sort of thing I’m likely to mention. If you were with me in person you would at least have a chance of seeing me do it. That’s all I’m sayin’.

Take the case of this particular friend. C has no way of knowing how I tend to leave stuff laying around and how, many times, I take an awfully long time to finish a project around the house and how completely nuts both of those things make my wife. She doesn’t see me on those days when work was rotten, bringing me home in a less than good mood and I am less involved or more terse with the kids that I otherwise would and should be. She doesn’t get to see the times when, in a disagreement, I respond to Christy sarcastically rather than maturely. She has no way of knowing that I am terminally afraid of doing things I am not good at, especially in front of other people. She doesn’t get the chance to see any of those oh so very fallible moments in my life that my other friends do.

She has no way of knowing that her dedication and devotion to her walk with God makes me feel more than a little ashamed of the level of dedication I’ve exhibited lately. She has no clue of the regrets I have over the missed opportunities to step up and be a truly good father or husband; those times when I was too busy or too tired or too self absorbed to pay the attention that I should have.

This only goes to reinforce the point I made in my very first post on this blog that in most cases you don’t really know the people you meet online. You see what they allow you to see and no more. It is a bit like a product demo. You only see the features of a product that the person demonstrating it chooses to show you, and they are only going to show the very best features. You don’t learn about the bugs and deficiencies that would drive you nuts unless you actually buy the product. Though in that original post I had intentional deception more in mind and, though this is nothing of the sort, the same supposition holds true to some degree.

Given enough time most people can discern character beyond what is overtly presented and I think C is certainly smart enough and a good enough read of people to at least suspect that I am not actually perfect. Yeah, I’m afraid its true. And, to be fair, I have told her things about me that aren’t part of an idealized tale of my life. I’ve told her some things about my first marriage and how badly it ended and I’ve talked a bit about my misspent youth. I’ve shared stray facts like that, but almost certainly less than I should have. When you get down to it I don’t know how well she truly knows the real me so, how can I expect her to have any idea. And that probably cuts both ways.

She and I have had a number of conversations around what constitutes true friendship and rather we qualify. We’ve discussed rather or not the time we’ve spent chatting is all wasted effort, running toward a dead end. My personal take is that it isn’t. I’ve mentally stopped making the distinction between her and ‘real life’ friends, rather the difference is on-line as opposed to off-line. Both are real life for me. I’m not sure what exactly comprises friendship because it isn’t something I decide intellectually or consciously, but I feel like I have found it in this instance. But, then, I have always been exceptionally good at reading people. I’ve met very, very few people that I didn’t have a distinct opinion of in the first five minutes of conversation and there have only been a couple of people ever to prove that initial opinion wrong. I’ve learned to trust my gut. How and why C arrives at a conclusion will only be revealed with time and even then, perhaps not to me. Either way, I consider her a friend, lack of details and all.

In the few days since I started writing this post I heard a quote about friendship that I especially liked. But more than that it amused me when I thought about it in the context of this post. The quote was “True friends are like angels; you don’t have to see them to know they are there.” I can’t help but wonder if that extends to those friends you’ve never actually seen at all. I mean, I’ve never seen my angels either. At least, not that I know of.

So I’m left to sit here and ponder the imponderable and will probably never get any closer to a conclusion than I am right now. Given that I have no choice in the matter I guess that I will just have to live with it. In the mean time, I’ll make an effort to share more of the real me, not just with C but with my off-line friends as well. In short, I will find a hanger and an open spot in my closet for the outfit with the cape. I think in the end it will work out better that way, and I suspect that I will feel better either way. Not being able to fly anymore is gonna take some getting used to, though. C’est la vie.

/g

I was talking to a friend the other day about an upcoming business trip that would start in LA, wind inland through Utah then back to the coast in the Pacific Northwest. She told me that she had been skiing out there and how much fun it had been. I’ve never been skiing and said as much so she suggested I give it a try while I was out there. It sounded like it might be fun so a few days later I looked up some rates for lessons, rentals, lift tickets, etc at various locations along my planned route. The problem was, even as I looked up information, something about it just didn’t feel right which started me wondering why. It didn’t take long to figure out…

Over the years I’ve traveled extensively for work and, like most business travel, it has been a largely solo activity. It has taken me to virtually every spot in the continental US big enough to warrant a Walmart and most of the larger cities many many times as well as to places off continent from Bermuda to Helsinki, Finland and many points between. Initially all the travel was a heady, exciting adventure. In fact, it still excites me on some level, just not like it once did. The whole truth, though, is that it can also be a very lonely existence and not just because I’m alone. Visiting cool new places or experiencing fun new things without someone to share it with is somehow inherently sad for me. I know there are people it doesn’t bother but I am a social creature and crave sharing the experience as much as or more than the experience itself. No matter how wonderful the place or activity I always find myself wishing for the company of a friend.

One of my favorite places in the world is San Francisco and within the San Francisco Bay area my favorite place is the Marin Headlands north of the Golden Gate Bridge. More specifically, the portions overlooking the bridge and, more specifically yet, at night. For me, at least, it is a magical place at night and, if you go late enough you can find spots in which you can be completely alone. Year round it is a little cool and there is almost always a strong breeze tousling your hair. You are nearly as high as the towers on the bridge and looking out through the cable suspension at the entire vista of the San Francisco skyline beyond. The blackness of the Pacific Ocean is felt more than seen as a palpable void to your right. You can’t help but feel the vast emptiness that stretches thousands of miles beyond the horizon. Something about that emptiness combined with the close yet seemingly unreachable companionship of the city gives me a sense of unparalleled solitude and the sheer scale of the entire scene serves as a powerful reminder of just how insignificant I really am.

But the thing is, that solitude extends only as far as earthly company is concerned. For me, at least, that separation from the rest of the world reminds me of how little all of the ’stuff’ really matters and helps me gain perspective on what really does matter. Put another way, if you can’t hear God’s voice there you need to work on your listening skills. I’ve not found another place anywhere on the planet where I feel as at completely alone and completely not at the same time.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I have sat up there alone just looking out over the bridge and the city beyond while the hours rolled past unnoticed. I’ve found myself still sitting there as the sun broke over the Eastern horizon a few times, but I try to be packed up and gone by then as a rule. Something about leaving while it is still dark lets you carry a little of that wonderment away with you in a way you couldn’t by the light of day.

As amazing as that place is and as much as I want (or perhaps need) to be alone there, I still long to share the experience. In the time Christy and I have been together I’ve been there dozens of times without her but not once without wishing she were there beside me. Not once have I left there without a measure of sadness that I couldn’t share the experience with someone I love. The same is true rather I’ve been wandering the streets of Paris or walking a cornfield in Iowa. No matter how fun or amazing the experience, a part of me is left wanting for someone to share it with and saddened that I can’t carry that experience back to those I love.

As an avid photographer I carry my trusty Nikon with me as surrogate companionship. While being able to spend all the time I like trying to get a shot or sitting in one place for an hour waiting for the light to get just right is very nice, it really is a poor substitute for having someone to talk to. And, while I may have excellent shots of the trip years later, they are a poor substitute for being able to sit with someone and say ‘remember when’.

So I find myself wondering what do do now. Christy really isn’t into the whole skiing thing so this would be the perfect time to try it out, but there is just something depressing me about the thought of going it alone. The date for this trip hasn’t been settled so I have some time to decide, but I don’t know if I’ll be better able to decide later than I am now. Oh, well. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

/g