Makes You Go, “Hmmm…”

The chapel was used for a wedding a couple of days earlier. The decorations were removed, but up against the ceiling were a couple of the helium-filled balloons. Most had been removed, but very unusually, these two had ended up in an inaccessible area. It was a very high, vaulted ceiling and the ribbons tied to the bottom of the balloons could not be reached, even from the ladders. There were really only two economically viable options – to use a BB/pellet gun to bring them down, or just wait.  When the helium leaks out over the course of a week or so, they will drift down. To prevent possible damage, an air rifle was ruled out…after all, the balloons weren’t apparent unless someone happened to look up directly at them. There wasn’t much planned for the chapel that week anyway…

Saxon, my cousin Jane’s husband, had developed esophageal cancer and his health had slowly deteriorated over time. After a long, hard-fought struggle, he succumbed to the disease. In that time, he had become even more focused on the teachings of the Bible. As he knew his life was coming to an end, on several occasions he told Jane that it was going to be all right and that if there was any way he could let her know that he was okay, he would. It’s the type of thing said to a spouse of more than twenty years to try to comfort them. He had made all the other arrangements he could to make sure his family would be secure. He had always been a help to anyone who needed it. He was ready.

And now it was time for the last service. The funeral began and as the eulogy was delivered, Jane was feeling particularly low. He was a good man and it was a celebration of the good life he had lived. The eulogy extolling his great sense of humor, his selflessness and other virtues was wearing on Jane emotionally. It was still just sinking in that he was gone. As she later told me, she had just reached the lowest depths of her sorrow when there was a slight disturbance behind her.  Then, the preacher faltered in his delivery and looked at the people in the back. She was sitting on the front row, so she turned to see what was causing this disruption.

Some of those seated in the back were surprised to see a balloon come drifting down from the ceiling. Most had no idea it had even been there and now, in the middle of the funeral service, it was slowly dropping and some were whispering and pointing it out to others.

As Jane turned, the balloon drifted toward the front of the chapel and right to her. She reached out and grabbed the ribbon, smiling, confident and comforted that Saxon had kept his promise. It was a turning point. Her mood lifted and it got better from there.

I tend to be skeptical of such stories, but this I do know:

I never heard him say it, but others corroborated that Saxon had, indeed, said he would find a way to let her know that he was all right. In addition, Jane had requested a video be made of the funeral…and I have watched that video of the balloon drifting down from the ceiling in the middle of the service, going straight to the front of the chapel (no sideward movement) and dropping down the last couple of feet to Jane. That would be an awful lot of coincidences…

What’s In a Name? (You don’t want to know!)

IMG_2389 for blog_edited-2Let me start off with a disclaimer.

I’m going to repeat an entertaining legend, but I don’t really know how much truth it contains.  I first heard it while living in the city of Pampa, in the Texas Panhandle, back in the late ‘70s. I don’t know the origin of this legend and since I’m not a native of that area, I have, as they say, “no dog in this hunt…”

Let’s start with what we do know.  Back in the 1870s (no, not the same ‘70s I mentioned above) a settlement grew out of a buffalo hunter camp about twenty miles from present-day Pampa. (Technically, they are bison, not buffalo, but let’s not split hairs on this one.)  It was a rough-and-tumble kind of place through which a lot of well-known people passed.  About the same time, the Army established a fort in the area.  According to a website I found (link below) one of the famous people who passed through acquired a lifelong memory of his time there.  Bat Masterson, of Dodge City fame, is described as walking with a limp.  It seems that he acquired that limp in a gun fight with an Army sergeant over a card game and dance hall girl.  The only survivor, Masterson, had been shot in the pelvis.  If you find a reference, you’ll see that the altercation occurred in Sweetwater, Texas.  But it’s not the Sweetwater you think…

This Panhandle town had been established on the banks of the Sweetwater Creek so it naturally assumed the name of Sweetwater.  This is where the story gets more entertaining.

In 1879, Wheeler County was established and Sweetwater was the natural choice as the county seat.  The problem came when they petitioned for a post office.  The petition was rejected because there was already another Sweetwater, Texas – the one you know.  That obviously created a problem because the town had been using that name for a few years.

Now, for the story as I heard it:

After the town was denied the use of “Sweetwater,” and while trying to decide on a new name, an old Indian chief suggested that the town use the Indian term for sweet water – mobeetie.  It was quickly agreed upon, approved, and Mobeetie, Texas was born.  Sometime later, it was discovered that the old chief had the last laugh.  Mobeetie didn’t actually mean “sweet water” – it meant “buffalo dung.”

It’s a good story, but I didn’t give it much credibility.

I don’t remember how it came up in the conversation, but I told the story to a friend over breakfast the other day.  Afterward, I realized it might be fun to write up for Casual Comments.  I started doing a little research since all I knew about the town was the name, location, the legend and that I remembered seeing a sign on the highway that points one direction for Mobeetie and another for Old Mobeetie.  I found a great website that offers the town’s history – in much greater detail.  Much to my surprise, it told the same story of the name with a little more detail and a couple of minor differences!  So, now I’ve confirmed the validity of the story.  After all, it’s on the Internet, so it must be true…!

To read more, visit this really interesting website:

http://www.legendsofamerica.com/tx-mobeetie.html

He/She/It

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I just want to say that with Princeton University’s new language guidelines “banning” any reference to “man” or other gender-specific terms and with the rulings concerning the non-restrictive use of public restrooms without regard to privacy or decorum, I have a new approach to writing.

Be it understood that when I use gender-specific personal pronouns in my writings, I mean anybody…unless I don’t.  At which time to prevent confusion, I (henceforth, the “writer”) will leave it up to the reader to draw personal conclusions about the biology of the referenced individual and the potential sexism of the writer.  Bear in mind that the reader’s inferences based on the writings may be influenced by their own sex-biased view of the world…or not…as the writer (not this writer in this case) may have identified differently on the date of the writings and thus approached the subject from a confused point of view…

As an aid, feel free to use the alternative pronouns as suggested by the collective wisdom of highbrow colleges for interpretive use by plebeian communicators when reading or writing.  A link shared by a friend led me to an article on www.thecollegefix.com which reports these suggestions:

From Princeton – “ze, zie and hir,” “they and theirs,” and “Ey, em, eir and emself”

From the University of Tennessee we get – “ze, xe, hir, hirs and zirs”

Words have meaning and no two words are alike – and, obviously, the above suggestions have none!  The dictionary definition of any two words may match, but the difference between those two words will nuance the meaning of a phrase or sentence.  That article also mentions the suggested substitution of “ancestors” for “forefathers.”  The term “forefathers” is for those who came before, but implies the “fathering” (if I may be so sexist) – a founding or creation – of something.  “Ancestor,” on the other hand, simply means those who came before, and somewhat implies a direct biological descent so the only “fathering” implied is biological, neither philosophical nor figurative.

When I attended, Baylor University required Old Testament and New Testament survey classes. In class one day, a discussion developed concerning two versions of the Bible – the Revised Standard Version and the King James. In one, the term used was “God’s justice.”  In the other, it stated “God’s judgement.”  The rest of the sentence was identical.  For our purposes, it doesn’t matter which is right or more accurate.  The point is that by changing the word, the nuanced meaning of that sentence was changed because while justice and judgement may overlap, they are not necessarily the same.

The language changes recommended by a handful of universities are to allow everyone to feel “welcome, accepted and respected.”  I would think that an incoming freshman at a college would feel a lot more welcome, accepted and respected if the people there communicated in a common, understood language and didn’t revert to such incoherent, nonsensical jargon.  This is particularly true when you consider that the implication of the Marquette University policy is forced compliance in student writings.  Just like our forefathers ancestors intended in the 1st Amendment…

“…Smile Because It Happened.”

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<Sorry, just couldn’t shorten this narrative any further…>

Twelve and one-half years ago, our youngest daughter convinced us it was time to have a dog again. We’d lost our German Shepherd to cancer and two months later, we lost our Schnauzer to a different cancer. Three years had passed…

We decided on another German Shepherd. The puppy was 55 miles away and 10 weeks old, but the price was really good and he was full-blooded, with papers. So we decided to go look. He immediately took to our girls and they to him. The first night, as we were debating names, we noticed that whenever anyone left the room, he followed them – like a shadow, right on their heels. And that became his name – Shadow.

I’ve been around five German Shepherd puppies, and I’ve noticed something. They are terrors, very destructive and hard to control…until they turn three years old. Then, amazingly, almost exactly on their third birthday, it’s like somebody flipped a switch and they go, “Oh, I get it…”  Then, they are great dogs! For the most part anyway. Shadow was still a little headstrong on occasion.

He was a German German-Shepherd, meaning that his DNA roots were in the “old country.” From what breeders and veterinarians have told me, they tend to be larger and more even-tempered than the American breed for some reason. He was a beautiful dog – well-proportioned, gentle, and at 124+ pounds, quite large for the breed. That was also the problem.

As a rule, the larger the dog, the shorter the lifespan. (See also, “Puppy Love”, posted May 17, 2016.) As Shadow’s health began to deteriorate, we started spending more time at the vet’s. During one visit, I mentioned Shadow being nearly twelve years old and about like an 84-year-old man. The vet corrected me. His comment was that because Shadow was a Shepherd and a large one at that, he was more closely equivalent to a man of 100 years! At the next visit, he remarked on Shadow’s changed gait and he felt that it was not only hip dysplasia, but he was also showing indications of neuropathy. He was very clear that the pain associated with hip and muscle degeneration can be treated for a time, and it might extend Shadow’s life some, but that nothing could be done about the neuropathy, if his diagnosis was accurate. His prediction was that Shadow would be gone within the year, possibly much sooner, based somewhat on the degeneration of his hips, loss of strength and muscle mass in the back legs, but primarily on the nerve degeneration. I asked, “So, realistically, are we looking at six months…?” “Maybe…”

Here we are, six months later. In the past couple of weeks, Shadow deteriorated much more quickly. His front legs were still strong, and his mind was still sharp, but his bark was often weak and not the deep, strong, robust sound it had always been. It was like he didn’t have the strength or lung capacity to consistently produce that sound. To me, it seemed his eyesight and hearing had been slowly fading for several months. He was beginning to have difficulty standing up. He started to pull himself short distances with his front legs, letting the back ones drag. But he would stand and limp for longer distances.

The vet had warned me that it could happen overnight, that suddenly he would not be able to stand. That happened as predicted and one day, I had to help him get around by using a towel to lift his back legs (a great technique for carrying or lifting a large dog, by the way) and carry them while he walked on his front ones. After evaluating Shadow’s behavior for a few days, and knowing it would never improve for more than minutes at a time, the appointment was made for his final trip to the vet.

My daughter’s boyfriend had developed a very strong bond with Shadow and suggested a ‘send-off’ meal like Shadow had never eaten. ‘People food’ is generally not the best for dogs – it’s arguably not the best for people – so we had not fed Shadow scraps or portions of table food. Although he did get things like raw carrots, and other vegetables. He respected that and never attempted to get our food…after he got in trouble for stealing pepperoni pizza off of the table a couple of times and sneaking half a package of Andes chocolate mints, wrappers and all, before he was three. He abstained even though his chin was above the level of the dining room table while standing on all fours. He did not hesitate to eat the McDonald’s Quarter-Pounder with cheese, completely wrapped in a half-pound of fried bacon strips, served with fries and scrambled eggs, followed by BlueBell vanilla ice cream!

People who’ve been around dogs very much, know they have a strong sense of dignity and self-respect and want to be treated that way. It is very difficult to watch a member of your family for over a decade begin losing that. He could no longer walk on his own most of the time, he frequently lost control of his bowels and despite the fact he was on a couple of strong prescription medications, it was obvious he was in a lot of pain much of the time. As a friend of mine put it, dogs have a remarkable ability to hide pain, so when they show it, you know it’s severe…

I’ve had dogs most of my life and being forced to decide to end their life is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. I’ve had to do that three times and Shadow’s long, painful struggle is over now.

My middle daughter sent me a picture of a sign that sums it all up…

“Do not cry because it’s over, Smile because it happened.”

Lessons Not Learned in School

Growing up as a military dependent has its positives and negatives. The biggest negative is that you have no geographical “roots” or at least none with strong attachments. The other side of the coin is that the experiences of living and growing up literally all over the world are amazingly rich! We learn through those experiences and while most are good, others…not so much…

On the western end of Lake Iznik in Turkey there was an area leased by the U.S. military for recreational purposes. We would drive the 40 miles from our home in Yalova to Lake Iznik periodically for unit parties and picnics. It was a good road for the area, but in reality, it was a narrow, two-lane road winding through the hills of the Turkish countryside, so it took well over an hour to get there. At least it was paved!

On the eastern end of Lake Iznik is the town of Iznik – I suspect that one got its name from the other…the question is, which Iznik came first? Iznik was an interesting little town – very old. In ancient times, it was called Nicaea – an important city at the time. Starting in 325 AD, some of the early council meetings of the Christian church were held there and in Constantinople (Istanbul), less than 90 miles distant. Iznik had some ancient ruins that had a beautifully done mosaic floor and not far away was an old mosque that allowed visitors into portions of it. One time we were allowed to go up into a minaret to get a great view of the town and surrounding area. But even from there, the other end of the lake was not visible. It’s a big lake! Looking down gave a unique perspective of the excavation of the nearby ruins. In 2013, a sunken fourth- or fifth-century basilica was discovered in water 1.5 to 2.0 meters (58.5 to 78-in.) deep and 20 meters (65-ft.) from the city’s shoreline! It appears that the church sank during an earthquake in 740 AD and was forgotten. I probably looked right at the water above it and, like nearly everyone else, saw nothing…

(I don’t know anything about this website other than it has a little information about the basilica and some really good photos. However, most other sources place the construction of the church at least 100 years earlier.)  http://www.worldbulletin.net/art-culture/127746/1500-year-old-basilica-discovered-under-lake-iznik

Back at the other end of the lake, we would picnic, play volleyball, and swim. I loved all of it! But that’s where the hard lesson came in. On one outing, it was a particularly nice day. I was just killing time waiting for the burgers and hot dogs to be cooked. I waded out into the water and borrowed a raft (air mattress) that someone had brought. Then, I just drifted along with the gentle breeze on the beautiful, clear water – occasionally watching small fish swim by far below. I don’t remember how deep the water was, but it was definitely way over my head. The sun on my back felt great, it was warm, but the breeze blowing across the water cooled my skin. When I started to turn over, I discovered that it made my back too cold, so I rolled back onto my stomach. All was well…

Not much later, the food was finished, we ate, played games and as darkness fell, headed back to Yalova. On the way, sitting in the car seat, it began to get uncomfortable. By the time we were home, I was sick. I ended up at the Karamürsel Air Station clinic where they prescribed some pain killers and ointment for my badly sunburned back and legs! I missed a couple of days of school, but learned valuable lessons about the sun and the reflective qualities of water! At this point in time, having no skin issues related to that burn, I feel fortunate. Modern sunscreens may not have helped in my situation, but it sure wouldn’t have hurt and might have reduced the days of pain that followed – not to mention the risks associated with severe sunburns at an early age!

Relaxation Techniques

This entry is another departure from my story-telling posts. As such, it is a little longer and probably a little less entertaining, but hopefully…useful.

We live in a fast-paced, high-pressure society and we need to be effective in that environment. I’ve chosen to look at that from a military perspective because of the 24/7 nature of military operations and the potential for sleep-deprivation.

In addition to a proper knowledge base from which to draw, two things combat leaders must possess are the strength to keep up with the physical demands placed on them and the mental acuity to meet the intellectual challenges of developing plans, marshalling resources, directing subordinates, and disrupting the enemy’s decision cycle. While neither is easy, the first is somewhat straightforward – exercise and physical training will help prepare a leader for the potential rigors to be faced. The problem with the second is its direct correlation to the physicality of the battlefield. That battlefield may be literally in a field employing weapons, in a ship’s compartment, a room on the opposite side of the world controlling drones, or any number of other variations to include spaces like the surgical area of a field hospital. Wherever it is, maintaining mental sharpness is critical.

Today’s world is a pressure cooker not unlike a battlefield – albeit not usually as intense nor with as great a risk of terrible consequences in the event of failure! People still need ways to de-stress – whether in combat or not.

A number of years ago, as young combat arms officers, physical fitness was stressed, but we were also shown several techniques to relax and quickly reset our mental agility. There are other – maybe even better – techniques, but here are three that I’ve personally found to be effective:

1.     Very simple and part of all the other techniques…just breathe!

This works in numerous situations. For me, even though I’ve done it many times, addressing a large audience is a stressor, so I do this…

a.  Take a deep breath and let it out s-l-o-w-l-y.

b.  Repeat.

c.  Then…start the presentation.

d.  As an aside, I’ve since learned that this is also immediately effective in either, or both, reducing my heart rate and lowering my blood pressure.

A variation I’ve also used is to start with a joke. Just be sure it is a good one with a well-rehearsed delivery or it will increase the stress!

2.     This is a technique that can be done sitting in a vehicle or at a desk and takes as long as the time made available, but it is amazing what five minutes will do…

a.  I sit back comfortably, put my hands in my lap, relax (drop) my shoulders, and close my eyes.

b.  Then I’ll take just a moment and concentrate on breathing slowly and deeply.

c.  Starting at my feet, I’ll concentrate on relaxing each muscle group, one at a time. Thinking about my feet and ankles, without moving, I feel/sense the muscles and will them to relax. Then I move to my calves. Again, thinking about those muscles until I can feel them and will them to relax. I’ll then move to my thighs and repeat the process…working my way up to the top of my head for each muscle group.

d.  When I’ve done that – if still awake – I’ll clear any remaining thoughts and just sit in that relaxed state for the rest of the time allocated. Not a bad idea to set an alarm clock or timer…

If I have trouble concentrating on a particular muscle group, I’ll tense those muscles (and only those) and then relax them. It helps me identify the muscles in question. My facial and neck muscles are the easiest for me to identify, but the hardest to relax, so I try to start in a position with my head leaned back against something.

3.     If there is an opportunity to lie down, this method is particularly effective for quick, restful sleep:

a.  I’ll lay on my back, legs outstretched, hands by my sides. My head is usually slightly elevated, but not always. (I have also done this while lying on my side to limit snoring, but for me, it’s not as effective – my wife disagrees…)

b.  Without moving, I’ll start at the top of my head and work down to my feet using the muscle-group relaxation process described in #2 above.

c.  When all muscle-groups are mostly relaxed, I’ll clear my mind by imagining a heavy weight pushing me deeply into the surface of the bed, or whatever I’m lying on, but not restricting my breathing – I am still able to take slow, deep breaths…

d.  I am generally asleep, or very nearly so, within a minute, but certainly less than two.

The more time available, the better, but even the simplest of these for just a few seconds or minutes, will clear my mind and get my head back in the game!

These techniques will work for nearly everybody, but practice may be necessary. If reading this post puts you to sleep, then you’ve found another, obviously effective, relaxation technique…

Cheap Thrills in an Expensive Car

Porsches are great automobiles! They are very high quality and probably saved my life – on two separate occasions. That particular one was painted “Crystal Blue”. (The same color as the Porsche 917 featured in the Steve McQueen movie “LeMans”.) It had mechanical fuel-injection, dry-sump oiler, 5-speed manual transmission, and was air-cooled (all Porsches and VWs were at that time). And it was FAST!

The problem with high-performance cars is that they can be a handful and can get you into trouble faster than you can blink! Porsches are well-balanced for superior handling, but the 911-series is rear-engined. That’s something you can’t forget because they can swap ends quickly and suddenly you’re out of control or facing the wrong direction!

July 3rd. My future wife and I were westbound on I-40 in Amarillo. It was about 5:00 pm and a week day. Traffic in Amarillo is never very heavy, but with the holiday almost upon us, a lot of vehicles were passing through town. It was sunny, hot and dry.

Uncharacteristically, I was driving the speed limit (70 mph), in the middle lane as we topped the bridge over a cross street. In the congestion, a slower-moving car in the right lane moved into my lane as I was about to pass him. I quickly veered toward the left lane to keep from hitting him. That was my first mistake – moving BEFORE looking to see if it was clear. It wasn’t…

That’s when I made my second mistake. Seeing a car, I immediately cut back to the right, over-correcting a bit, and was now heading into the right-hand lane and toward the guardrail designed to keep vehicles from sailing off of the bridge. Now the adrenaline was pumping and I made my third mistake! I cut the wheel sharply back to the left to try to stay in the right-hand lane – and on the bridge. A little too much adrenaline in that move and I over-corrected again! At the same time, I tapped the brakes to slow things down – mistake number four. That’s when the rear bias of the engine weight plus the braking action on the front end conspired against me. A lesser car would probably have flipped over, but not the Porsche! Suddenly, we were in the center lane again, skidding backwards, looking at the cars and semis coming over the top of the bridge. That’s when time slowed down…

In that adrenaline-induced timeline, I realized what had to be done. First, shift to neutral and let the engine speed drop. Then, I slammed the shifter into Reverse, cut the wheel to the right and backed through the small gap in the left lane traffic and onto the narrow shoulder where the center guardrail separated us from the eastbound traffic. Just enough room to again be facing west, I put it in 1st, steered back into the left lane and burned rubber! I pulled off at the next exit, stopped, got out, and looked the car over – especially the Michelins. No damage! It was as much my fault as his, but I don’t think the guy in the car who started it all even knew what had happened behind him!

The guy I almost hit in the left lane pulled off and asked if we were okay and my fiancée’s  comment was, “Just like an amusement park ride…”

She still married me. I think it was for the car…

Dallas & Baton Rouge

This will be a little bit different than the normal blog post I put out there.  I’ve struggled with this for over a week – one of the reasons there was no post last week…

Living in the Dallas area, this past week and a half has been a sobering reminder of the realities of the world we now live in. I have friends who are, or have been, policemen in Dallas and the surrounding communities as well as Baton Rouge. While I did not personally know the casualties of these senseless acts, it still hurts when our communities are diminished by the loss of these brave individuals.

A number of years ago, while finishing my degree at Baylor, I had a friend who was several years older than I was at the time. Roger was a sergeant with the Waco Police Department. He was tall – well over 6-feet – with a great sense of humor and in really good physical condition. He had a nice wife and family. He answered a call one day to a disturbance at the bus station and happened to be the first to arrive on the scene. He was dead minutes later. What he didn’t know, was that man had a hidden butcher knife. Roger died saving a taxi driver’s life and detaining his own killer by holding him while being repeatedly stabbed until other police arrived. Typical of the selflessness of every policeman I have ever known – and probably also of those I have, unfortunately, met under less than ideal circumstances – once as a robbery victim and…let’s just say, more than once, receiving slips of paper critiquing my driving…

Let’s look at a couple of things. First, Roger was not killed by a gun. He was killed by a kitchen utensil, which shows that while guns can be effective, it is not the gun alone that kills. In fact, Roger’s killer was shot multiple times by the officers who came up on the scene – he survived.

The underlying cause of these recent police murders are not the weapons nor types of weapons. (Statistically, more people are beaten to death each year in this country than are murdered with a rifle.) In these recent incidents, it is the anarchist rhetoric of some individuals and organizations calling for retribution. While the 1st Amendment is critical and must not be limited under normal circumstances, there are limitations that we have accepted – such as the clichéd standby of not yelling, “Fire!” in a crowded theater…

Our language must always be measured. It must not be hateful. It must not be seditious. But, it must be allowed to be persuasive. And, contrary to the beliefs of some, it must also be allowed to offend. Remember, communication is bi-directional. It does not take place when something is said. It only occurs when what is said is also received. It is up to the sender to temper their words and measure the impact of their statements for good or ill. But it is also up to the receiver to filter that message and determine whether it is worthy of absorption or just background noise. Unfortunately, a few individuals did not filter the incoming messages and absorbed the toxins spewed in hateful, ill-advised speech.

It is our individual, personal responsibility to temper our speech. It is also our personal responsibility to filter what we receive, to not absorb messages of hate, and to not be “thin-skinned” when we hear something that offends us. In the vast majority of instances, it was not intended to be offensive, but if it was, filter it out as background noise…

Hair today…gone tomorrow…

There exists a photograph, a snapshot really, of a young man standing with his mother on the southwest rim of the Palo Duro Canyon in the Texas Panhandle. Taken in the early 1970s, his hairstyle is completely appropriate for the time.  His hair was long, but not overly so.  On a normal day, it would have been combed and parted and neat. He was tall – six-foot three – thin, slightly tanned, and his hair was naturally a dark brown color which matched his mustache and very dark brown eyes.

That day, however, his hair was sun-bleached to an almost red color – not uncommon whenever he spent some time in the sun. The Texas Panhandle is largely a prairie and notorious for things such as its hot, very dry climate, and constant wind. The average daily wind is 14 mph. That may not sound like much, but there are a number of days when the wind doesn’t blow enough to speak of, so to average out at 14, means there are days when it really blows! There are occasions when the measured wind velocity between Amarillo’s downtown buildings hits 100+ mph. Those times tend to be a bit expensive for the insurance companies who pay for the damages done. The hot, dry summer wind that day was apparently a little above the average and as evidenced by his hair. It was wild…unkempt even – the result of all of these factors and the fact that it was naturally very curly. It looked like a reddish “Fro”.

Ask anyone with naturally curly hair if they like it and more often than not, you’ll get a negative response – especially the younger crowd. It is hard to control – it literally seems to have a mind of its own. It is harder to cut because the curls may be tighter one day than the next. So the hairstyle can vary with the humidity, the weather, the wind, the way it was slept on, etc., etc. At times it even seems to vary with owner’s attitude that day – or maybe it’s the attitude that varies based on how attractive the hair looks… Either way, the result doesn’t vary – it is still difficult to deal with. But maybe not for much longer…

In the July, 2016 volume of National Geographic magazine, there is a short article discussing some of the characteristics of curly hair. According to the article, studies published in the journal of the American Physical Society describe the hair shaft as a very complex structure – influenced by gravity, texture and the shape of the follicle it grows from. Apparently, an asymmetrical follicle produces curly hair and the longer the hair grows, the more complex the structure. The more complex the structure, the more susceptible to heat. So Purdue University is investigating the styling temperatures best suited to maintaining healthy curly hair.

Having been that young man in the photograph and having not used heat to style my hair, I can attest to the fact that it did not contribute to having little remaining volume or that my much shorter hair is now controllable by a fine-toothed comb…

Get It Checked Out!

Early one morning several years ago, I was out running. The weather was good, same route I had taken numerous times. But this morning was different – I noticed that there was an odd sensation. The best I can describe it is like the feeling of “butterflies in your stomach” – except that it was in my chest! I decided to have it checked. After some tests, the cardiologist told me I had about a 30-40% blockage. I wasn’t particularly concerned at that point.  I was in my 40s and figured if it took that long for that amount of blockage, it would be a number of years before it was an issue. I didn’t follow up with the doctor.  Wrong twice!

Two years later, while out running again, I noticed it was getting more and more uncomfortable, and was running shorter and shorter distances as a result. I thought back to the previous situation and decided to get checked again.  The cardiologist I had seen was out of town for two weeks and it would be three weeks before I could get an appointment. I decided, since I wasn’t having any issues other than when running, I would just take it easy and wait.  They stressed for me to not hesitate to call 911 if needed during the wait.  That was on Tuesday.

Thursday afternoon, at work we were moving some rather heavy items and though holding back, I still worked hard.  When we finished, I really did not feel good! Mostly in my chest. The thought crossed my mind to call 911. But after a couple of minutes, the discomfort faded. I decided to wait…

Friday morning. Getting ready for work. Taking a shower, thinking about the previous day and wondering if I should have gone to the emergency room, when I felt twinge in my chest. Talk about power of suggestion! By the time I had finished my shower and dried off, I decided it was more than just the power of suggestion and asked my wife to bring me the nitroglycerine tablets from two years previously. They were out of date, but I decided it was better than nothing.  The instructions were to take one every five minutes and call for an ambulance after the third. I didn’t even make it past the second tablet when I told her to call 911.

Without going into a lot of detail (maybe another day)…

The ambulance arrived and after fighting the north Dallas morning rush hour traffic in the pouring rain, we finally arrived at the closest hospital they deemed best for a possible heart attack.

It was indeed a heart attack! There was a 70% blockage that had broken loose due to my exercise routine. As I talked with the cardiologist after the stent, I commented on the exercise causing it.  He said, “That’s the wrong way to look at it. It was what made it survivable…”  I later learned that blocked artery is the one often called the “Widow-maker.”

I’d had several warnings and ignored them. Yet I knew that something wasn’t right…I could feel it. All I can add is, if it doesn’t feel right, don’t be “macho”, don’t be stubborn, don’t be stupid!  Get it checked out!