Not too long ago I posted a piece about how my folks followed me around the Midwest to my high school and college track and cross country meets.
In the same piece I mentioned that we followed Ann around north Georgia for her high school track and cross country meets.
In a similar fashion we also followed John around Georgia and the southeast to his swim meets. The summer recreation league swimming was easy because all of those meets were within Gwinnett County. His high school swimming did not tax us too badly as all the meets were in the metropolitan Atlanta area. It was the Dynamo Swim Club meets and the University of Virginia meets that were taxing.
The swim club meets often started on a Thursday evening and did not end until Sunday night. The logistics of travel, food, and lodging took a significant amount of time and energy. As stroke and turn officials we were required to show up an hour early for the morning session, and again for the evening session, and when all the other parents left after their child’s last swim, Jean and I were standing on deck until the last heat of the last event. I don’t mean to whine, but, yeah, that got to be pretty annoying.
The College meets were one-day meets except for the ACC Championship and the NCAA Championship, but the distances we traveled were so much greater. All too often we’d only get to talk to John for a couple minutes after the meet. We didn’t get much quality time with our son for our travel dollars.
I thought it would be interesting to compile a list of the towns that Jean and I traveled to in support of John’s swimming. These are the ones that come to mind with just a little effort. I may have missed a couple. Yes, I know Long Island isn’t a city, but I can’t remember the name of the dadgum place. He wasn’t happy with his swim there anyway, so why remember it?
Gainesville, GA
Gainesville, FL
Auburn, AL
Savannah, GA
Augusta, GA
Athens, GA
College Park, MD
Minneapolis, MN
Long Island, NY
Knoxville, TN
Clemson, SC
Louisville, KY
Columbia, SC
Durham, NC
Chapel Hill, NC
Long Beach, CA
Omaha, NE
Charlotte, NC
Charlottesville, VA
Atlanta, GA
Friday, November 27, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Conundrum
Read this one slowly. It is a bit tricky.
I’ve come to the realization that I have no idea whether this blog is anything more than an excellent example of bad writing and boring stories. In the absence of any feedback or information to the contrary I thought I might be able to work out logically whether or not to continue this exercise.
1. If the stories are good and my writing is good, then I should definitely continue.
2. If the stories are good and my writing is bad, then maybe I should stop embarrassing myself.
3. If the stories are bad and my writing is good, then maybe I should stop wasting my time.
4. If the stories are bad and my writing is bad, then I should definitely stop!
5. If nobody is reading this, then it’s all irrelevant anyway.
The problem is that I cannot know, or do not want to know, whether the “IF” portion of the logic statements are true.
If family and friends say something nice about the blog, which is exactly what I want to hear, I cannot entirely believe them because they may simply be sparing my feelings.
On the other hand, if they say the stories stink and/or the writing stinks, I will believe them because no one would say such a thing if it were not true, but that is exactly what I don’t want to hear.
If I hear nothing at all, then I am left in a position of self-doubt where I suspect the worst is true, which is exactly where I am.
So there is no way out of this conundrum. If the truth is good news, I can’t believe it. If the truth is bad news, I don’t want to hear it. If I hear nothing, I suspect the worst. There is no upside to this logic. It is my own personal Kobayashi Maru scenario. (A famous Star Trek no-win scenario designed to test character)
The only solution for me is to remain blissfully ignorant. It’s a sad piece of logic that takes the fun out of this project. ‘Tis a pity. I guess I will keep on writing and posting stuff into the void of the internet, but, as blues singer B. B. King said, “The thrill is gone”. I think the writing is better, and certainly easier, if I continue to suffer delusions of adequacy. I will try to find my way back to that happy place of delusion. I liked dwelling there.
I’ve come to the realization that I have no idea whether this blog is anything more than an excellent example of bad writing and boring stories. In the absence of any feedback or information to the contrary I thought I might be able to work out logically whether or not to continue this exercise.
1. If the stories are good and my writing is good, then I should definitely continue.
2. If the stories are good and my writing is bad, then maybe I should stop embarrassing myself.
3. If the stories are bad and my writing is good, then maybe I should stop wasting my time.
4. If the stories are bad and my writing is bad, then I should definitely stop!
5. If nobody is reading this, then it’s all irrelevant anyway.
The problem is that I cannot know, or do not want to know, whether the “IF” portion of the logic statements are true.
If family and friends say something nice about the blog, which is exactly what I want to hear, I cannot entirely believe them because they may simply be sparing my feelings.
On the other hand, if they say the stories stink and/or the writing stinks, I will believe them because no one would say such a thing if it were not true, but that is exactly what I don’t want to hear.
If I hear nothing at all, then I am left in a position of self-doubt where I suspect the worst is true, which is exactly where I am.
So there is no way out of this conundrum. If the truth is good news, I can’t believe it. If the truth is bad news, I don’t want to hear it. If I hear nothing, I suspect the worst. There is no upside to this logic. It is my own personal Kobayashi Maru scenario. (A famous Star Trek no-win scenario designed to test character)
The only solution for me is to remain blissfully ignorant. It’s a sad piece of logic that takes the fun out of this project. ‘Tis a pity. I guess I will keep on writing and posting stuff into the void of the internet, but, as blues singer B. B. King said, “The thrill is gone”. I think the writing is better, and certainly easier, if I continue to suffer delusions of adequacy. I will try to find my way back to that happy place of delusion. I liked dwelling there.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Feel-Good Folder
Sometimes I get to feeling pretty low. I suppose everyone does, though I don’t notice it in others as much as I see it in myself. Note to self: You need to be a little more sensitive to the folks around you. What was I saying? Oh, yeah, sometimes I get to feeling pretty low. The self-pity party scene can be pretty dreadful.
I know that these low moments are inevitable, so I keep a folder in my office desk that I refer to when I get in a funk. The folder is labeled “Tom – Personal”. Remember Julie Andrews in Sound of Music singing “I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don’t feel so sad”? I’ve collected a quarter inch of favorite things in my folder. Thank-you notes, emails, cartoons, quotes, witticisms; anything that might cheer me, help me to persevere, tolerate the intolerable, choose the harder right rather than the easier wrong, to be better than I am, or better than I feel at that moment.
I’d like to say my feel-good folder works wonders, but it simply gets me through the occasional hard day. Sometimes I worry that the folder actually causes me to focus on my misery, on how things ought to be rather than how they are, and end up worse than I already was. I hope not. The only sure cure for me is a good run and a full night’s sleep.
The solitude of the run may cause me to wallow in the issues of the day, but it also permits a quiet thoughtful analysis. My anger can be pounded out during a couple of hard miles. I can mentally rant and rave about the injustice, ignorance, absurdity, and foolishness of the day. But eventually, when the emotion is removed, I can finally find my way to the essence of the Serenity Prayer, accepting the things I cannot change and changing what I can. Well, that’s the lie I tell myself.
In addition to my feel-good folder I’ve also got a document on my computer where I’ve collected a variety of words that inspire or amuse me. Most of these are well known, but it may have been a while since you last read them. Here are the contents of that document for your amusement. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
Yes, I am cheating by not writing something original of my own. I needed a day off.
The Original Serenity Prayer as written by Reinhold Niebuhr 1892-1971:
God, grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can and
wisdom to know the difference:
living one day at a time,
enjoying one moment at a time:
accepting hardship as a pathway to peace:
taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it:
trusting that You will make all things right if I surrender to Your will:
so that I may be reasonably happy in this life and
supremely happy with You forever in the next. Amen.
What is success?
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;
This is to have succeeded.
Ralph Waldo Emerson 1803-1882
The Impossible Dream
To dream the impossible dream,
to fight the unbeatable foe,
to bear with unbearable sorrow,
to run where the brave dare not go,
to right the unrightable wrong,
to love, pure and chaste, from afar;
to try when your arms are too weary;
to reach the unreachable star.
This is my Quest---to follow that star,
no matter how hopeless, no matter how far,
to fight for the right without question or pause,
to be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause!
And I know, if I'll only be true to this glorious Quest,
that my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I'm laid to my rest.
And the world will be better for this---
that one man, scorned and covered with scars,
still strove with his last ounce of courage
to reach the unreachable star.
Lyrics by Joe Darion 1917-2001, music by Mitch Leigh 1928-
Boy Scout Oath
On my honor I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.
Boy Scout Law
A scout is
Trustworthy,
Loyal,
Helpful,
Friendly,
Courteous,
Kind,
Obedient,
Cheerful,
Thrifty,
Brave,
Clean, and
Reverent.
C’est Moi
Camelot! Camelot!
In far-off France I heard your call.
Camelot! Camelot!
And here am I to give my all.
I know in my soul what you expect of me,
And all that, and more, I shall be
A knight of the Table Round should be invincible,
Succeed where a less fantastic man would fail.
Climb a wall no one else can climb,
Cleave a dragon in record time,
Swim a moat in a coat of heavy iron mail.
No matter the pain, he ought to be unwinceable,
Impossible deeds should be his daily fare.
But where in the world
Is there in the world
A man so extraordinaire?
C'est moi! C'est moi!
I'm forced to admit.
'Tis I, I humbly reply.
That mortal who
These marvels can do,
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I
I've never lost in battle or game;
I'm simply the best by far.
When swords are crossed,
'Tis always the same:
One blow and au revoir!
C'est moi! C'est moi!
So admirably fit!
A French Prometheus unbound.
And here I stand, with valor untold,
Exceptionally brave, amazingly bold,
To serve at the Table Round!
The soul of a knight should be a thing remarkable,
His heart and his mind as pure as morning dew.
With a will and a self-restraint
That's the envy of every saint
He could easily work a miracle or two.
To love and desire he ought to be unsparkable,
The ways of the flesh should offer no allure.
But where in the world
Is there in the world
A man so untouched and pure?
C'est moi!
C'est moi! C'est moi!
I blush to disclose.
I'm far too noble to lie.
That man in whom
These qualities bloom,
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I.
I've never strayed from all I believe;
I'm blessed with an iron will.
Had I been made the partner of Eve,
we'd be in Eden still.
C'est moi! C'est moi!
The angels have chose
To fight their battles below.
And here I stand, as pure as a prayer,
Incredibly clean, with virtue to spare,
The godliest man I know!
C'est moi!
Lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner 1918-1986, music by Frederic Loewe 1901-1988
Success
He has achieved success
who has lived well,
laughed often, and loved much;
who has enjoyed the trust of
pure women,
the respect of intelligent men and
the love of little children;
who has filled his niche and accomplished his task;
who has left the world better than he found it
whether by an improved poppy,
a perfect poem or a rescued soul;
who has never lacked appreciation of Earth's beauty
or failed to express it;
who has always looked for the best in others and
given them the best he had;
whose life was an inspiration;
whose memory a benediction.
--1904 Bessie Anderson Stanley
Chinese Proverb
He who knows not,
and knows not that he knows not,
is a fool. Shun him.
He who knows not,
and knows that he knows not,
is a child. Teach him.
He who knows,
and knows not that he knows,
is asleep. Wake him.
He who knows,
and knows that he knows,
is a wise man. Follow him.
Stopping by Woods On a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it's queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost 1874-1963
I know that these low moments are inevitable, so I keep a folder in my office desk that I refer to when I get in a funk. The folder is labeled “Tom – Personal”. Remember Julie Andrews in Sound of Music singing “I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don’t feel so sad”? I’ve collected a quarter inch of favorite things in my folder. Thank-you notes, emails, cartoons, quotes, witticisms; anything that might cheer me, help me to persevere, tolerate the intolerable, choose the harder right rather than the easier wrong, to be better than I am, or better than I feel at that moment.
I’d like to say my feel-good folder works wonders, but it simply gets me through the occasional hard day. Sometimes I worry that the folder actually causes me to focus on my misery, on how things ought to be rather than how they are, and end up worse than I already was. I hope not. The only sure cure for me is a good run and a full night’s sleep.
The solitude of the run may cause me to wallow in the issues of the day, but it also permits a quiet thoughtful analysis. My anger can be pounded out during a couple of hard miles. I can mentally rant and rave about the injustice, ignorance, absurdity, and foolishness of the day. But eventually, when the emotion is removed, I can finally find my way to the essence of the Serenity Prayer, accepting the things I cannot change and changing what I can. Well, that’s the lie I tell myself.
In addition to my feel-good folder I’ve also got a document on my computer where I’ve collected a variety of words that inspire or amuse me. Most of these are well known, but it may have been a while since you last read them. Here are the contents of that document for your amusement. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
Yes, I am cheating by not writing something original of my own. I needed a day off.
The Original Serenity Prayer as written by Reinhold Niebuhr 1892-1971:
God, grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can and
wisdom to know the difference:
living one day at a time,
enjoying one moment at a time:
accepting hardship as a pathway to peace:
taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it:
trusting that You will make all things right if I surrender to Your will:
so that I may be reasonably happy in this life and
supremely happy with You forever in the next. Amen.
What is success?
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;
This is to have succeeded.
Ralph Waldo Emerson 1803-1882
The Impossible Dream
To dream the impossible dream,
to fight the unbeatable foe,
to bear with unbearable sorrow,
to run where the brave dare not go,
to right the unrightable wrong,
to love, pure and chaste, from afar;
to try when your arms are too weary;
to reach the unreachable star.
This is my Quest---to follow that star,
no matter how hopeless, no matter how far,
to fight for the right without question or pause,
to be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause!
And I know, if I'll only be true to this glorious Quest,
that my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I'm laid to my rest.
And the world will be better for this---
that one man, scorned and covered with scars,
still strove with his last ounce of courage
to reach the unreachable star.
Lyrics by Joe Darion 1917-2001, music by Mitch Leigh 1928-
Boy Scout Oath
On my honor I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times;
To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.
Boy Scout Law
A scout is
Trustworthy,
Loyal,
Helpful,
Friendly,
Courteous,
Kind,
Obedient,
Cheerful,
Thrifty,
Brave,
Clean, and
Reverent.
C’est Moi
Camelot! Camelot!
In far-off France I heard your call.
Camelot! Camelot!
And here am I to give my all.
I know in my soul what you expect of me,
And all that, and more, I shall be
A knight of the Table Round should be invincible,
Succeed where a less fantastic man would fail.
Climb a wall no one else can climb,
Cleave a dragon in record time,
Swim a moat in a coat of heavy iron mail.
No matter the pain, he ought to be unwinceable,
Impossible deeds should be his daily fare.
But where in the world
Is there in the world
A man so extraordinaire?
C'est moi! C'est moi!
I'm forced to admit.
'Tis I, I humbly reply.
That mortal who
These marvels can do,
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I
I've never lost in battle or game;
I'm simply the best by far.
When swords are crossed,
'Tis always the same:
One blow and au revoir!
C'est moi! C'est moi!
So admirably fit!
A French Prometheus unbound.
And here I stand, with valor untold,
Exceptionally brave, amazingly bold,
To serve at the Table Round!
The soul of a knight should be a thing remarkable,
His heart and his mind as pure as morning dew.
With a will and a self-restraint
That's the envy of every saint
He could easily work a miracle or two.
To love and desire he ought to be unsparkable,
The ways of the flesh should offer no allure.
But where in the world
Is there in the world
A man so untouched and pure?
C'est moi!
C'est moi! C'est moi!
I blush to disclose.
I'm far too noble to lie.
That man in whom
These qualities bloom,
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I.
I've never strayed from all I believe;
I'm blessed with an iron will.
Had I been made the partner of Eve,
we'd be in Eden still.
C'est moi! C'est moi!
The angels have chose
To fight their battles below.
And here I stand, as pure as a prayer,
Incredibly clean, with virtue to spare,
The godliest man I know!
C'est moi!
Lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner 1918-1986, music by Frederic Loewe 1901-1988
Success
He has achieved success
who has lived well,
laughed often, and loved much;
who has enjoyed the trust of
pure women,
the respect of intelligent men and
the love of little children;
who has filled his niche and accomplished his task;
who has left the world better than he found it
whether by an improved poppy,
a perfect poem or a rescued soul;
who has never lacked appreciation of Earth's beauty
or failed to express it;
who has always looked for the best in others and
given them the best he had;
whose life was an inspiration;
whose memory a benediction.
--1904 Bessie Anderson Stanley
Chinese Proverb
He who knows not,
and knows not that he knows not,
is a fool. Shun him.
He who knows not,
and knows that he knows not,
is a child. Teach him.
He who knows,
and knows not that he knows,
is asleep. Wake him.
He who knows,
and knows that he knows,
is a wise man. Follow him.
Stopping by Woods On a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it's queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost 1874-1963
Friday, November 6, 2009
Mystery Diagnosis
I got a rash on my neck in the late summer of 2000. (This information must surely fascinate you and have you tingling with anticipation.) I could not figure out what was causing it. We tried changing a variety of things at home to no effect. I went to a doctor who confirmed that I did indeed have a rash and sent me on my way. The rash went on unabated for months. This has nothing, and everything, to do with the following events.
The West Point Parents Club of Georgia had a send-off picnic at Fort McPherson in Atlanta when Ann was about to head off to West Point in the summer of 2000. We didn’t know such a thing existed or for what purpose.
We went to the picnic and heard some presentations from current and former West Pointers about what to expect. It was one of many eye-opening experiences. We knew West Point was incredibly difficult, but you can never know too much about the future. What we did not know in particular was how difficult West Point is on the PARENTS.
Yes, the Parents Club was ostensibly there to support the cadets at West Point, but it was also there to support the parents. Parents have limited contact with their children when they enter West Point. The first summer at West Point is essentially spent conducting army basic training. The cadets get maybe one phone call and an occasional letter out. In the absence of information, parents are left to imagine and assume the worst about their children who are suddenly and continuously absent for the first time in 18 years.
The separation anxiety of sending Ann off to college was tough enough, but knowing that she was going through basic training before the academic year made the experience doubly tough. I know it was extremely hard on her, but it wasn’t any picnic for us as parents either. Ann could at least DO something about her circumstances. The only thing we could do as parents was send letters of encouragement. We weren’t even allowed to send a stick of chewing gum inside a letter. We very much needed the support of the Parents Club to tell us our anxiety was natural and to be expected.
When we did get a phone call or a letter from Ann it usually contained news of some new form of misery she was undergoing. This did not help our anxiety levels at all, but we were told by the veteran parents that this allowed the cadet to dump their burdens on us, and were as right as rain as soon as they were done venting. I didn’t believe any of it.
We became faithful attendees of the West Point Parents Club meetings. We wanted to know everything we could about what Ann was undergoing so we could be helpful, supportive, and sympathetic.
We went up to West Point for Reception Day in late June when Ann and all the other candidates reported for the first time. We went up again at the end of the summer for Acceptance Day, when the candidates who survived summer training were accepted into the Corps of Cadets as “Plebes”. We went up again for Plebe-Parent Weekend that fall to see her again. Each visit revealed at least one new aspect of West Point that was worrisome for us as parents. One of my least favorite memories was being told that I could not hug my daughter in public while she was in uniform. Bullfeathers!
Anyway, to make an already too long pseudo-story shorter, Ann survived the summer and the first full semester at West Point and came home (for the first time since June) for Christmas. In a quiet private moment I had a chance to ask Ann if she was doing okay up there and whether she thought she could survive the place. Ann said to me in a grave voice, “Dad, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s not more than I can handle.”
My rash went away soon thereafter.
The West Point Parents Club of Georgia had a send-off picnic at Fort McPherson in Atlanta when Ann was about to head off to West Point in the summer of 2000. We didn’t know such a thing existed or for what purpose.
We went to the picnic and heard some presentations from current and former West Pointers about what to expect. It was one of many eye-opening experiences. We knew West Point was incredibly difficult, but you can never know too much about the future. What we did not know in particular was how difficult West Point is on the PARENTS.
Yes, the Parents Club was ostensibly there to support the cadets at West Point, but it was also there to support the parents. Parents have limited contact with their children when they enter West Point. The first summer at West Point is essentially spent conducting army basic training. The cadets get maybe one phone call and an occasional letter out. In the absence of information, parents are left to imagine and assume the worst about their children who are suddenly and continuously absent for the first time in 18 years.
The separation anxiety of sending Ann off to college was tough enough, but knowing that she was going through basic training before the academic year made the experience doubly tough. I know it was extremely hard on her, but it wasn’t any picnic for us as parents either. Ann could at least DO something about her circumstances. The only thing we could do as parents was send letters of encouragement. We weren’t even allowed to send a stick of chewing gum inside a letter. We very much needed the support of the Parents Club to tell us our anxiety was natural and to be expected.
When we did get a phone call or a letter from Ann it usually contained news of some new form of misery she was undergoing. This did not help our anxiety levels at all, but we were told by the veteran parents that this allowed the cadet to dump their burdens on us, and were as right as rain as soon as they were done venting. I didn’t believe any of it.
We became faithful attendees of the West Point Parents Club meetings. We wanted to know everything we could about what Ann was undergoing so we could be helpful, supportive, and sympathetic.
We went up to West Point for Reception Day in late June when Ann and all the other candidates reported for the first time. We went up again at the end of the summer for Acceptance Day, when the candidates who survived summer training were accepted into the Corps of Cadets as “Plebes”. We went up again for Plebe-Parent Weekend that fall to see her again. Each visit revealed at least one new aspect of West Point that was worrisome for us as parents. One of my least favorite memories was being told that I could not hug my daughter in public while she was in uniform. Bullfeathers!
Anyway, to make an already too long pseudo-story shorter, Ann survived the summer and the first full semester at West Point and came home (for the first time since June) for Christmas. In a quiet private moment I had a chance to ask Ann if she was doing okay up there and whether she thought she could survive the place. Ann said to me in a grave voice, “Dad, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s not more than I can handle.”
My rash went away soon thereafter.
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