Pre-Thanksgiving Brief

It is impossible for me to belive it has been over two years since writing in this blog - yet I muse through the words written so long ago it is almost as if someone else wrote them. The thought of this subtle irony makes me smile. The things that were important to me then have faded into distant memory. Perhaps the events of today will similarly fade. Let us hope so.

A new presidental election has occurred, and Barak Obama has made history by being the first black president. The nation has taken a definite turn to the left. The "mainstream media" has become cheerleaders for the Democrat party. George Bush and the Republicans wee adrift over these past two years - giving no thought to the future after Bush.

The fall of 2008, the stock market has crashed like never before. Oil prices are now half of what they were in July. We await the results of the crash in the new year.

Freely admitting to being no economist, it seems to me that this event is largely overblown and psychological. I believe it to be the result of the Democrats "talking down the economy" in order to get elected. The American news media is in the tank for the Dems so they spread the word gleefully throughout the world to scare poeple to get their man elected. The problem is everyone started to believe them.

There is a housing crisis, but it is difficult for me to believe that it alone caused this. I cant help but believe that most of this is purely psychological. The Dow is whipsawing 500 point swings daily, commodity prices fluctuating madly base on thin evidence of events that could be months out. People have lost half of their wealth on paper and are very afraid.

Isnt it at least possible that "talking down the economy" for the "out" party's political expediency is just wrong? Isn't it proof that lack of objectivity in the media is at least partially responsible for this fiasco? Unfortunately, I only point out the problem....with no proposed solution. A free press is essential to a free society. I just wish for more objectivity.

Meeting my soul mate

This is one of my most significant Life Experiences. I've taken this long to write it because it deserves being told in just the right way.

My divorce was final on the anniversay of JFK's assasination in 1988. For the "history challenged" out there that's November 22. Obviously, Thanksgiving is always just around the corner on that date. I had just moved to my tiny inner city apartment, the holidays were in full swing, and I was heartsick for my children. But I was determined not to fall into depression. The yolk of a horrible marriage had been lifted from my withers. I was free of her! The mood was surprisingly upbeat.

Resolutely determined not to spend Thanksgiving alone, I decided at the last minute to spend it with my brother and his family in Atlanta. The late decision made it difficult to find a flight. Normally IAH-ATL flights happen on an hourly basis, but the Wednesday before Thanksgiving is always the busiest travel day of the year. No space available anywhere. I finally found a really ugly itinerary. Houston-Chicago-three hour layover-Atlanta. I gritted my teeth and booked it.

On Wednesday, Nov 23rd, the flight to Chicago was uneventful, and even arrived about 10 minutes early. For weekend trips, I rarely check luggage, so as the door opened and we passengers spilled onto the jetway, I braced myself for the three hour layover. But what to my wondering eyes should appear, (that's Holiday talk) but a flight to Atlanta leaving in five minutes just across the corridor.

I approached the gate agent and asked if I could get on this plane as a standby passenger. I explanined that I had only carry on luggage, and that I did not want to spend the next three hours at O'Hare airport.

She shrugged, "Sir, this is a full flight. It's the busiest travel day of the year."

"Could you just check to see if there's been a cancellation?" I pleaded. She looked down and began pecking on a keyboard.

"Well look at that!" she said. "A seat just came available." She snatched the ticket from my hand and began attending to the details of switching my ticket. By the time I could board, the ground crew were closing the aircraft door. I stopped them and scrambled inside with my luggage.

I became that annoying "last guy on the plane", and got some impatient and unkind looks from my fellow passengers. Clambering down the aisle with not a shred of grace, I spotted my seat - the window seat right next to a beautiful fair-skinned brunette. She looked up from her book, glanced momentarily at me, sighed and got up to allow me to get to my seat. She even shifted her parcels in the overhead bin so my things would fit.

When I tried to engage her in conversation, she thrust her nose a little futher into her book. It wasn't until the meal came that I was able get a foot in the door. Despite the inauspicious start, my boyish charm must have eventually won the day. We talked about so many things. I learned she was divorced, and had been single for several years. I told her that I was also divorced.

She asked, "So how long have you been single?"

"Including today," I replied, "one day."

"This guy is big trouble." she thought, as she later admitted.

We exchanged business cards at the end of the flight. When I returned to Houston after Thanksgiving, I sent her a Christmas card. (She was living in Oklahoma.) She sent me one back. I called her. She called me back.

A year and a month later, after an incredible courtship, we were married.

We met on an airplane where I was not supposed to be. It was the only possible opportunity for us to ever meet. som people say it was fate, some say it was luck.

My opinion? It was divine guidance, and God has a sense of humor.
We are soul mates. How else could this have happened?

Soliel Du Lac

Significant in 2005 for us was a new house. Well not new, but new to us. We bought someone's dream home, and is was is if they were dreaming it for us - it is so perfect.

We first saw it from a pontoon boat while cruising Lake Conroe in July of 2004. It took us several months, but we decided to buy the house in Nov, and made a contingent offer - contingent upon selling our Kingwood house.

Despite my lack of faith that it could be accomplished at all, we closed on the new house on Valentine's Day 2004, and closed the Kingwood house two days later. It was an eventful week!

Grandson Week in the Mountains

It’s been quite a week. Our newest grandson was born on March 28th in Greenville, SC (click here for details) and a trip to Casaloma to see him was well past due. The bonus with this trip is that the Dallas Crew- son Trey, his wife Allison and 21 month old grandson Brendan flew with us to the mountains, and spent the week.

It was a wonderful escape for all of us. Trey has not had any time away from work for a good long while, Allison was ready for a break, Becky (Na-Na) has been dealing with the pressures of shifting her pediatrics practice from Kingwood to The Woodlands, and I am…well, lets just say I needed a break as well.

The Dallas Crew arrived the evening of Saturday the 16th of April, and since our flight to Asheville did not depart until 7:15pm on Sunday, we were able to spend Sunday morning on Lake Conroe, having a leisurely cup of coffee on the back veranda, and then enjoying a laid-back cruise over to Del Lago in the boat for breakfast. Brendan was especially excited about the boat, and wanted to help “Dad-o” pilot the “boat” (both words he says perfectly) by sitting in my lap and jerking furiously on the helm.

After a slight delay at IAH, at 6:45pm we boarded the ERJ for Ashville. While the night flight was uneventful for the adults, it was high adventure for Brendan. We were all nestled snug in our beds at Casaloma before midnight. In fact, every day in the mountains was high adventure for Brendan, but that much adventure can be rough on a boy who goes as hard and headlong as he does.

We saw waterfalls “wa-wa-ball”, climbed hills, hiked, played with toys, and explored. Brendan only has two settings: go full speed, and battery recharge. As a result, he ended up with a few nicks – a fat lip after one tumble, and a pop-knot in the middle of his forehead after another. He also has a language all his own. His pacifier is his “mah”, and he will not even attempt any other word for it. He’s really good at trying new words if you ask him to say them. He usually gets the first sound and number of syllables correct. But if you ask him to say “pacifier”, he takes it out of his mouth, smiles a knowing smile, and explains it’s a “mah”. The week was real bonding experience for Brendan and me.

We made the trip down the mountain on Monday to see Kristen and meet Adam for the first time. He’s so cute, and Kristen is such a great and attentive mommy. I also got a chance to bond with Ben. I’m not sure what happened this time. In times past, I seem to have been just another stranger to Ben, but this trip, he was my little shadow – wanting my attention, sitting next to me, walking on my feet. I wish we had more time to spend with him, and that he didn’t live so far away.

We went to the Biltmore Estate, had dinner at several wonderful restaurants, zoomed through Hendersonville, and made a second trip down to visit Kristen to see a t-ball game that got rained out. Kristen also came up to Casaloma on Friday, and she and Adam spent the night. Adam is just the cutest – but he is not old enough to be interactive for Dad-o as yet….but its coming.

So for the first time, we saw Adam Robert, and gathered all the grandsons together in one place for some fellowship. For the grandfather in me, this week was about as good as it gets, and my beautiful bride was positively radiant as a grandmother.

Timothy S. Conroy

We buried Tim in La Jolla, Ca today. Big Funeral. Lots of friends and family.
Very sad. He leaves a hole in all our lives that will never be filled.

He loved life. He loved his family. He will be sorely missed.

I have found myself in silent prayer often over this weekend of mourning for Tim. Its been such a tumultous, emotional week. The pope died. Terry Schiavo died.

So many prayers issued. So many people seeking understanding of God's mysterious way. As for me, I wonder why God decided that Tim's work on earth was done, when it appeared to me that he had so much left to do. Its probably a sin for me to think that way. Most people pray when we lack understanding. We pray that we have done right when we have done our unknowing best.

"Farther along we'll know all about it.
Farther along we'll understand why.
Cheer up my brothers live in the sunshine.
We'll understand it all by and by."

Back to Texas tomorrow.

The cycle of life - Supreme Joy and Woeful Anguish

The last week of March 2005 was one of Supreme Joy and Woeful Anguish. In fact, the total amplitude of my emotional range pushed the envelope on March 28, 2005.

On Monday the 27th, our daughter Kristen, full term in her pregnancy went to her Ob/Gyn for a weekly checkup. The doctor told her to pack her bag and check in the hospital that night. The plan was to induce her pregnancy on March 28. They began the procedure that morning, and by 5:57pm eastern time, our third grandchild, Adam Robert Colvin was born. A joyous occasion! 7lbs 9oz, and healthy, with Kristen happy and excited about her new bundle of Joy!

She called me when he was only 40 minutes old to tell me, “Dad! He’s so-o-o cute.”

“Is he really cute or are you just saying that because you’re his mom?” I teased. “I mean most newborn baby’s heads are flat, their eyes are puffed up, and they are all red.”

“No Dad!” she stated emphatically. “He’s really cute. His head and eyes are just fine.” She was a little indignant, but recognized that I was just having fun with her.

A trip is planned to South Carolina at the end of April to see for myself just how cute my third grandson is, and to hug Kristen’s neck. A new grandson - Supreme Joy.

In the evening of the same day, my brother-in-law, Tim Conroy passed away in his apartment in NYC, unexpectedly at the age of 46, leaving a wife, Cindy (my wife Becky’s sister), two high school aged daughters, and a step daughter. He was thin, fit, and apparently hale and hearty. At this writing, the cause of his untimely end is entirely unknown despite an autopsy being completed yesterday. Nothing obvious. We all must wait 6-8 weeks for the lab report.

As I pen these words, I am sitting in San Diego with the family. The hole he left in all of our lives is enormous. The grief being experienced by those that I love is almost unbearable. The uncertainty of how life will go on for those who depended on him has caused much angst. The family is here to support Cindy.

A previous blog here about NYC was a trip up to see him. He was a good friend. We all loved his vitality, his wit, and his bizarre sense of humor. Tim will be sorely missed by everyone who knows him. His passing reminds us all of our own mortality - our tenuous cling to this earthly life.

Woeful anguish-

All on March 28, 2005

March Update - Mission Creep

The daily discipline of writing in this blog has been slipping away from me. I have been busy. We moved our household from our residence of 11 years, so all of my free time has been spend unpacking boxes.

We decided mid year 2004 that the time was right for a move. We bought our "Kingwood House" in 1994 after returning from an overseas assignment in Singapore. At the time, our kids were early high school age, and while the house was not ideal, it was certainly very comfortable. 3650 sq ft, two story, five bedrooms 3-1/2 bathrooms. We had a pool installed, did eye-popping landscaping, and the family lived happily there. The children graduated, went off to college, got married and now are having children of their own.

So now is the time to "downsize", right? We decided we wanted to live on the water, so we began looking on Lake Conroe at condos with boatslips. Well, we had trouble with a little mission creep. The more we looked, the less we liked small accomodations, and I had a requirement for a three car garage and an exercise room. Not available in a condo. So we began looking at houses.

After looking at 25 or 30 houses we began to despair. One day in August, we were over at a friend's house who offered to take us for a ride in a pontoon boat. Looking at houses from the lake is interesting. After a short ride, we spotted a beautiful southern plantation style house on a point - and it was for sale!

The next day, we arranged a visit, and fell in love with it. 3 bedrooms, 4-1/2 baths, 4 car garage, exercise room, study, media room, big beautiful verandas all around the house, and a 4 mile view across the lake. 5,500 sq ft! So much for downsizing. It has a boathouse, a boat, and two jet skis. Great for grandchildren.

We closed on it on Valentines Day, and have spent the last month trying to get straightened out. That is the reason why I haven't posted here for a while.

I've decided to start a new blog to post photos of the house, and record events that occur there.

Lifestyle Change Necessary

One of the reasons of the earlier journaled trip to Spokane was to visit Dr. Bradley Bale, a family practice doc who has done some amazing research in heart attack prevention.

Back in October, I had a scare. On a routine trip to my internist, I complained about indigestion and "shortness of breath". I now know I was "huffing and puffing" from exertion, not "short of breath". But what do I know? The internist decided to do an EKG to compare to earlier ones, and it was not normal. I exhibited a "left bundle branch block". The doc decided that I maight be having a heart attack, and the next thing I knew, there were hot and cold running nurses, paramedics, IVs, gurneys, an EMS ambulance, and a ride the local emergency room. Geez...

There, after a cardiac ultrasound, blood tests and a chemical stress test, a cardiologist decided that I wasn't having (nor had I ever had) a heart attack, but one might occur at any second. I was referred to another cardiologist, who looked at all the tests and decided that, I needed a procedure called "cardiac catheterization". A few days later, I had the procedure. They inserted a needle into the artery in my groin, and ran a tiny probe up into the arteries in my heart, where he injected a dye. The dye enables the doctor to take x-rays to determine how much blockage that I have.

The result was that some of the vessels had 30% blockage and one had 50%. No balloon angioplasty or stents were required. I was told if it gets worse, I would require bypass surgery, however because I was not a candidate for those less invasive procedures.

These results prompted Becky to arrange for us to go to see Dr. Bale. In preparation for the trip, I had several blood tests, which were sent to Berkeley Heart Labs. Between Vegas and Spokane, we were required to fast. Upon arrival, more tests were required. It was determined that I am "pre-diabetic", insulin resistant, and have that arteries of a man 25 years older than my current age. It felt (and still feels) like a death sentence.

At the end of it all, the medication to control my cholesterol is now far more agressive, and escalating. I have been ordered to lose 10 inches in my waist. By my calculations, I need to lose 80 lbs. This will be accomplished with a combination of diet and exercise, and should take approximately one year.

I will keep this log updated periodically - perhaps weekly.

Edisto Salt Marsh 

Sea Oats on Edisto 

Edisto Beach

Edisto Salt Marsh

Edisto Island - South Carolina

29 December 2004

We awakened early at our home in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and by 7:45am struck out for Edisto Island by way of Columbia, SC. The trip down the mountain was uneventful as was the trip in the Columbia to pick up Becky’s mom and dad.

We had lunch at a seafood restaurant near the river, then put the rented DeVille on I-26 southbound. Thereafter, the trip was less than ideal. About 5 miles north of I-95 traffic screeched to a halt, and crept along at about 1 mph. We learned later this was caused by an 18 wheeler accident. 30 minutes passed before we made the first exit, where we took some back roads and arrived at I-95, which was also creeping due to a grass fire.

More back roads and finally after a 2 hour delay, we were able to make our way back to I-95 which was finally running at posted speeds. At dusk, we arrived at our destination on Edisto Island.

Edisto is a very interesting place. It’s like a jungle on the beach – a very quiet, sleepy, beach community, which has very few commercial developments. And despite pressures to do otherwise, the residents here fight commercialism at every turn. And it makes for a very unique environment.

Post-Christmas Blues

27 Dec 2004

Christmas 2004 is in the can, and as I pen these words, I am again at 33,000 ft on an Embrar Regional Jet between Houston and Asheville, NC. This was a bittersweet Christmas. Because of the copious travel running up to the Holidays, Christmas rather “snuck up on me.”

First the good part. My health is still reasonably good, and I have a game plan for improving it. My company is set to launch into the stratosphere. And I have a wife and family that love me, and are the central objects of my affection. In fact, my life, until Christmas eve, while not devoid of problems, is filled mostly the kinds of problems everyone dreams of having. Problems of affluence and success. Nice problems.

Until Christmas eve. My daughter called, distressed and sobbing. The last time she called me in this state, her husband disappeared on a gambling binge, lost all his available cash, and came home professing remorse for a gambling addiction. Bad enough. This time it’s a chemical dependence on marijuana. Lost his job. Pawned his tools. Credit is shot. Now my baby girl has a hole to dig out of. She’s five months pregnant with a son, is working at Clemson plus finishing her Masters Degree there. Her boat was loaded before she found out about this.

My mind reels: “Gotta get her out of there – ditch the bum and get her and my future grandson back to Houston where I can control events.” The more she tells me the worse it gets.

Then I began to remember my own challenges with drugs.

Christmas 1968 – my hippy cousin Jimmy was in from California. We were both staying with Granny. I was a senior in High School, he was travelin’ the country, working odd jobs and then movin’ on. In my late adolescent mind Jimmy, and his lifestyle was very cool.

One night, I walked in his room, Jimmy Hendrix was in the middle of playing the now famous “Purple Haze”, a stick if sandalwood incense was burning on a low table, and a window was open allowing a cool December Houston breeze into the room. I watched Jimmy, who had been holding his breath in a peculiar fashion, exhale a cloud of odd smelling smoke out the window. He offered me a feathered roach clip holding a burning joint, and I took it. Jimmy died in a motorcycle accident in California about two years later. I know wonder to what extent drugs may have played in the accident.

For the next thirteen years, I was a drug user. While I never felt “addicted” – that is to say compelled by forces greater that my own willpower to seek drugs, I was certainly seduced by the lifestyle. Marijuana was illegal, yet was a natural “harmless” non-addicting plant. Because I believed the law to be wrong about this drug, I therefore extrapolated that the law must be wrong about ALL drugs. So I tried them all, whenever they were available. LSD, Mescaline, Psilocybin, Cocaine, Hashish – pretty well anything that came around through my pot contacts. And I sold drugs as well – not necessarily as a dealer, but it seemed smart to buy pot or hash in larger quantities and sell off ounces or grams to friends in need.

I would like to say the lifestyle never got in the way, but I feel certain that my lackluster finish in High School, and the failing genesis to my college career was directly attributable to this new priority. What I believe to my core, is that pot and hash robbed me of my driving wheel – the mechanism that made me strive to improve my lot in life.

One of my life’s most regrettable moments is “turning on” my fifteen year old brother. I am nine years his senior, and as such, he really looked up to me. I was his primary role model. We smoked a joint together and then went and had a pizza. He later became seriously addicted to marijuana, barely graduated high school, and struggled with the addiction until the age of 40. Now, it is like a hood has been lifted from his eyes – so dramatic is the change in his life since he quit.

The “epiphany” to quit came on the occasion of my thirtieth birthday, July 1981, although I had been tapering off for a couple of years. An “old friends” party was held at my house, where all my rowdy friends came for the evening. Now married and the father of two wonderful children, a son, almost 4 and a daughter age 2, I should have known better. When the kids got packed off to bed, the baggies came out and a full blown 60s styled pot party was underway. Somehow the proceedings got a little loud and my son was awakened, came wandering out of his bedroom, and caught a glimpse of me drawing on a joint. Busted. I was horrified.

The next day, my parents came to town to wish me a happy 30th birthday. While sitting in the living room chatting, my son looked at my mother and said, “When I grow up I’m going to smoke, just like my daddy.” Busted again. Mom knew I’ve never smoked tobacco in my life.

That did it. Nowadays, I’m fond of chiding my grown children with the quip, “The apple never falls far from the tree.” At that moment I became keenly aware of the fact that I did not want my children to be like the man I looked at in the mirror every morning. I completed my college degree in mechanical engineering with a 3.4 GPA. I had a great career in corporate America. and now have a business that has fulfilled my every fantasy. I changed my life, with God’s help, but he made me do the heavy lifting.

I asked my daughter if she sill loved him. She said "Yes, and I'm sure he loves me." This too can be fixed.

NYC Trip

This past weekend we traveled to New York City for a pre-Christmas visit with Becky's siblings and spouses. It was a fun trip - my first to New York. I can confirm that the Big Apple is a very exciting place. Becky's sister Cindy, and her husband, Tim have a small apartment in Manhattan, just three blocks from the west side of Central Park. Becky's brother, Gene and his wife, Shannon stayed with Cindy and Tim, and with the four of them in the one bedroom, one bath apartment, there was a crowd.

I was very happy to stay in the W Hotel - Times Sq, at 47th and Broadway, in the heart of the action. The W is about two subway stops from Cindy and Tim's place so it was quite convenient.

We took in a couple of Broadway shows: the first was at Radio City Music Hall - "The Rockettes Christmas Spectacular". Tremendously great show, but I wish that we had some children with us. The second show "Rent" was really disappointing. It's as if the writer wanted to assail us with every distasteful possible human behavior in the PC interest of diversity, and still try to remain sympathetic and cute. I walked out in the last ten minutes of the show, preferring the empty lobby to the assult on my sensibilities. The only reason I stayed that long was the music.

We also did lots of sightseeing: Wall Street, Ground Zero, Central Park, the Metropolitan Art Museum, Greenwich Village, SoHo, Little Italy, Chinatown, the Bowery. Lots of good food. The early December weather didn't really cooperate as it rained the first two days, and was cold the next two.

All in all, it was a fun trip, and I look forward to our next trip back.

Business Development

The week after Thanksgiving started rather slowly. Being gone for several days necessitates that I spend time catching up returning phone calls and scheduling sales calls.

I spent time with our QA Consultant going over results of the recent audit. I'm very pleased with the results - we passed with flying colors.

This morning, we spent with one of our large customers to continue to push toward a design and manufacturing agreement. The going is very slow on this project - the norm with this mega-sized company.

This afternoon, I drove to Kilgore to visit with the principals of a small company with whom we are actively considering forming a Limited Partnership to design, develop and produce some exciting new products. Development of this technology is the most exciting thing that I'm currently working on. Unfortunately, my business partners, deep in the developmental throes of the last project that we landed, are unable to feel that this project can become real in a hurry. and it has the potential to be our biggest undertaking yet.

And working with this small privately held company is a breath of fresh air, when compared to all the large bureaucratic organizations that we normally do business with. I'm filing two patent applications before Wed Dec 15th that could be real game changers in our business. I can't really put anything in the blog until the applications are filed. Suffice it to say these applications are the centerpiece of the new LP., and should open up a fantastic new and exclusive market for us.

Thanksgiving Musings

After arriving back in Houston from the trip to Vegas and Spokane on Tuesday Nov 23rd, Thanksgiving was upon us. Our daughter, Kristen (five months pregnant) and her husband Kevin, and our grandson Ben flew in from South Carolina to spend the holiday with us in La Grange. It was a great time to spend “Dad-o bonding” with Ben. He loved the ride to La Grange in my Escalade with the “movie”. The time went fast as he watched Star Wars II. I also heated our pool up to about 95 degrees – that’s right, the whole pool. He swam every late November day, even when the temp was as cold as 48 degrees. We were sad as they boarded the plane and left us on Sunday morning.

On my mind over the holidays was the anniversary of the day I met my wonderful bride, Becky - November 22, 1989. Thanksgiving is a holiday of reflection, of counting our blessings. Perhaps my life's greatest blessing happened on this day. It is a story worth scribing in this log.

Ironically, my divorce from Mary was final just the day before, on Nov 21. As Thanksgiving approached, I made arrangements to fly to Atlanta to visit my brother Robert and his family to celebrate the holiday. I was still smarting badly from the divorce, and wasn’t accustomed to the solitude of single life. I was not inclined to spend the holiday by myself. There were no non-stop flights available from Houston to Atlanta, so I was forced to connect through Chicago with a three hour layover there.

As I boarded the American Airlines flight, I braced for what I thought was going to be a horrible travel day. Surprisingly, my flight arrived at O’Hare about 15 minutes early, and as I scrambled off the aircraft with my carry-on luggage, I noticed a flight right next door had already boarded and was leaving for Atlanta in five minutes. I rushed over to see if I could get on as a stand-by.

As I made the request to the gate agent, he said, “Sir, this is a full flight. You know, the day before Thanksgiving is the busiest travel day of the year.”

“Please look to see if there has been a cancellation.” I pleaded. I did not want to spend three hours in the O’Hare terminal.

“Well, well! There is one seat left”, he said as he busied himself with the details of switching over my ticket. I barely made it on the flight before the flight attendant closed the door.
As I scrambled down the aisle with my carry-on luggage, I spotted my seat, right next to a beautiful professionally dressed brunette intent on reading a book. When she saw that I was struggling to find a spot for my carry-on luggage, she stood up and rearranged her things in the overhead bin to make room. The aircraft was an MD-80 set up with the seats in the familiar 3-2 configuration. We were lucky enough to have the "2 side". Her's was the aisle seat, so I contorted a little and shuffled into a spot by the window.

I thanked her, and tried to make idle conversation. But the paperback is what held her attention. As the aircraft departed O'Hare, I switched on my light, dropped the tray table, pulled some papers out of my briefcase and began shuffling them around. The flight attendant soon came by with drinks, and then a hot meal appeared. (Yes, gentle reader, back in the olden days, American Airlines served hot meals and enjoyed financial health.) Only now was conversation with her a possibility, as the paperback slid into her bag.

We talked about a lot of things, first our names, where we were from, about our jobs, and where we were going on this trip. She was living in Oklahoma City in route to a high school reunion. I asked her if she was single, she said "yes". I asked her if she was divorced, she said "yes". That lead to a conversation about our exes, and how our divorces happended. She asked my how long I had been divorced.

"Including today?" I quipped, "One day." She was thinking I was all kinds of trouble.

Still we talked, about religion, politics and decided that we were both Christians, politically conservative, and agreed on most issues of the day. She never picked that book back up, and we talked for the duration of the flight.

As we began to de-plane, I asked her, "Do you mind if we exchange business cards? I like to keep in touch with people I find interesting. " She gave me a card with only her business contact information on it.

I thought about her over the holiday, and told my brother about her. Upon returning, I sent her a Christmas Card. She sent me one back with ere phone number. I called her, and that's how it started.

Some people say luck, others fate or Karma. I personally believe it was divine guidance.

Spokane, Washington

We arrived in Spokane 4:30 Sunday afternoon, just as it was getting dark. It was a long hard day. Rain and IMC in normally sunny Vegas delayed our departure by about 4 hours. We hurried from the airport directly to Dr. Bradley Bale's Heart Attack Prevention Clinic, where despite the late hour on Sunday, we were met by Pamela, one of Dr. Bale's nurses. She did bloodwork and some test that were needed for Monday's session with Dr. Bale. We had been fasting for 23 hours, so finishing up and getting our only meal of the day, put a nice exclamation point on an otherwise trying travel day.

We checked in to the Davenport Hotel, and what a pleasant surprise! http://www.davenporthotel.com/

Its a beautifully restored grand old lady built during the Victorian Era. A delightful 4 star in an unexpected place.

We flew to Dr. Bale's clinic in Spokane primarily because despite two years of pharmacological effort by doctors in Houston, my lipid numbers have remained awful. Dr. Bale is on the leading edge of compiling and rendering the complexities of hyperlipidimia into treatment programs that arrest and reverse the adverse effects of high cholesterol. Monday we spent most of the day at his clinic analyzing our data, and learning about Dr. Bale's program. I'm convinced it's the best thing around.

Monday afternoon we freed up and decided to take a drive over to Coeur d' Alene, Idaho. There's a big "glacier formed" lake there by the same name, so we decided to stop and wander around. We spotted a C-206 on floats and a tiny dockside FBO, so I naturally had to have a look. Lo, and behold, it was for rent, as was the CFI. So for the first time in my aviation career, I flew a floatplane.

It felt very familiar, as I climbed into the left seat, and the CFI took the right - very Cessna, much like my c-210. Its cold here in late November, and the Cessna had not been flown all day. As we cranked up, we did a few lazy circles in the lake to warm the engine up. As the oil temperature reached an acceptable level, we turned, and becasue there are no brakes on a floatplane, performed the runup and mag check while moving downwind. The CFI asked me if I wanted to fly her. What the hell! Is that a trick question? I eagerly took the controls.

Takeoff from the water was much like a short field takeoff: Yolk all the way back, full power, leveling as the craft reached planing velocity, and at 45 kts, the craft just lifted off the smooth surface of the lake. I circumnavigated the entire lake (120 mile shoreline), and landed (or is it "watered") just as the sun was setting shooting purple and orange streaks from behind the mountains to our west. I had also never flown in Idaho. Logged two firsts. Impressive day.

Vegas

As I pen this entry, I am looking out of our 19th floor window at Venetian Resort onto lots of action on the Las Vegas strip. Treasure Island just finshed one of their booming shows, which happen every couple of hours, and our suite affords a great view.

We are here for an American Academy of Pediatrics Continuing Medical Education event. My wife, Becky is a pediatrician, and is here for annual training. I get to tag along and hang out in Vegas. I have also been assigned the title of "events coordinator" for the trip, and in this capacity, have arranged for us to see a couple of shows.

The strange thing about me and Vegas is that I don't really gamble here in the gaming mecca on Planet Earth. Its not that I have anthing particularly against gambling, I just have trouble being comfortable risking my money while on the steep portion of the learning curve. Being uncomfortable translates to an ordering of things that compete for my entertainment dollar. I prefer the shows to the casinos, and that's the bottom line. Why?

Probably because the odds of winning are low, and I am convinced that if I play long enough, I'll surely lose. If I don't gamble, believe that I come out ahead. And it all operates at a subconsious level anyway, because blinking slot machines, craps tables, and roullette wheels give me anxiety, if I give them more than a casual glance. This is my fourth trip to Vegas, and I havent even gambled a quarter. Enough of that.

Friday night – The first show, O is, according to the concierge at the Venetian, the most popular show in Vegas, and the toughest ticket in the city to get. I paid a ridiculous amount of money from a scalper to acquire the best “same day” seats that I could get for Becky and me. The full extent of our “ticket agent’s” effectiveness would become apparent later.

As I picked up the tickets, the concierge told me that these seats were row A – that, I knew. Becky noticed the ticket was imprinted with “wet seat” on the face. She made a call to the concierge, who assured us that a few sprinkles were all we could expect. As we arrived at the O Theatre at Bellagio, we were shown to our front row, center seats. They were a few feet from the swimming pool stage – close enough to smell the chlorine.

As the crimson curtain first billowed, then furled and vanished into the set, the water’s edge was approximately 8 feet distant. As always, Cirque’s props were boldly colorful and very otherworldly, drawing obvious inspiration from the work of surrealist Salvadore Dali. The unlit water was black to the eye, yet shimmered from the stage’s backlights. Smoke drifted in from stage left. A faceless, legless human torso hung in suspension a few yards over the water, as was a Victorian era full length gown. Both moved silently on their invisible wires. Clowns in white face opened the show. Costumes were in wild contrast; some inspired by red clad Beefeaters at the Tower of London in full powdered wigs. Others actors were clad in skintight almost transparent leotards, either painted or beaded to resemble Star Trek’s arch villain, The Borg.
At several points during the show, fountains, or actors leaping into the pool caused significant splashes to wet us thoroughly. I found that as each new act unfolded, I was analyzing its potential to wet us further. Like all Cirque productions, O had no plot per se, however a logical thread is woven throughout all the acts, more appropriately described as “connectivity” rather than a ”plot”. The nut of it is mostly humans doing things the human body is not really designed to do. O is part magic, part acrobatic and trapeze, part modern dance, and part synchronized swimming. The show was fabulous and very entertaining.

Saturday night - Zumanity, another Cirque production, was playing at the New York New York casino. As much as I liked "O", I disliked Zumanity. Billed as a "another side of Cirque du Soleil", and was supposed to be a sexier, tantialzing, provocative offering from the Canadian entertainment group. Well, it was NONE of those things. While the show lacked the artistry of previous Cirque productions, its flavor was more like a gay pride event than anything else. Oh sure, there were young sexy actors, but at least half of the acts were "gay" - either boy/boy or girl/girl, and clearly these gay acts were more "celebrated" than the others. But the absolute worst aspect of the show was its "preachiness" - condescendingly "teaching" us all a thing or two about sex. I mused that the actors we like the evil twin/mirror images of "Carrie Nation" marchers at thed of the nineteenth century, heralding the beginning of the temperance movement. Come now! A total turnoff, despite all the tight young skin.

From here we are off to Spokane

Hectic Day at the Office

Today, tomorrow, and Friday, my company is having a Quality Audit to API Q1 and ISO:9001:2000 standards. It was a hectic day - not time for anything else.

I founded the company in 1999, and serve as President/CEO and chief rainmaker. Our success has been nothing short of remarkable. We have gone from a four man startup firm operating in one of my partner's garage (Camp David - as it was affectionaltely known) to $5 million per year in gross revenue and fifteen employees. We build equipment that makes offshore oil rigs safer, environmentally sensitive areas less likely to suffer damage from an inadvertent oil spill, and equipment that allows extraction of more hydrocarbons from existing reserves than ever before.

The story is quite amazing, and I am constantly in awe of what we have accomplished. More on my company later.

Veterans Day Remembrances

The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month is when the Great War (WWI) ended. Formerly known as Armistice Day, it was renamed Veteran's Day by Dwight D. Eisenhower in the 1950s.

I never served in the military, although there were/are many times that I wish that I had. Just too busy with things, and it never fit in the schedule. Same with golf, but that is another story. I was nineteen years old in 1970, and classified 1-A in the selective service draft. The Vietnam war was winding down, and educational deferrments were suspended in favor of a national lottery. On Jul 2, 1970 and with great anticipation draft age boys looked for their lottery numbers in local newspapers the day after the much ballyhooed drawing. My number was 172, and I believed it was on the cusp.

My dad was a Navy man, so I decided to go down and talk to the Navy recruiter, who "silver tongued" me into signing up. I took the all the tests, physicals and filled out all the forms necessary for induction. Apparently I did very well on the exams, and got my pick of schools, and a submarine assignment. But the whole "cattle car operation" of military induction I believed, was a bellweather of an impending surrender of my individuality, and made me think that I was being hustled. I really never had a problem with America's position on Vietnam per se, but I always believed that we were being "prevented" from winning the war from within. I mean, why not bomb Hanoi? Only because the press and peaceniks at home were running amok, and the Nixon Administration had a PR problem.

The recruiting office was in a run down main Post Office on San Jacinto St. in downtown Houston. As I sat across a worn wooden desk from the naval recruiter, the smells of old wood, leather and old stuff filled my head. He lifted a file filled with all my particulars from a drawer and offered up an official navy form. He said, "Just sign here, Sonny and you're in the Navy."

"Hold that thought." I replied. "I'll be back to see you when I get my draft notice."

He smiled and said, "We'll be here when you're ready." That was the closest that I came to military service. Whether you view this as bad or good, that's how it happened.

In 1971, Dad was fired from his job as an air traffic controller for the FAA because of his involvement with the controllers union, PATCO. The firing launched Dad and the rest of our family into a crisis. In 1971 we moved to Toronto, Canada when he landed an ATC job there.

No, I wasn't dodging the draft. In fact, shortly after moving, I made a trip to Buffalo, NY and registered for the selective service there, indicating our address in Toronto. The recruiter just smiled at me. Even so, No. 172 was high enough because the draft notice never came, and the highest number ever drafted from the lottery (accoring to http://www.sss.gov/lotter2.htm) was 125.

Fast forward to the year 1981. I was a senior at the University of Houston, and finishing up my engineering degree. My life comprised working full time to support my family, attendance in part-time night classes, weekend family events, and little else. The average work day for me was 14-16 hours long. This particular semester, I was taking an elective course, "U.S. Military History" as well as a technical course. Often after class some friends would gather at the "Cougar Den" bar in the University Center to blow off steam, and to share a pitcher of draft beer before hitting the freeway for the long drive home.

It was Veteran's Day - four guys and three girls joinned me that evening at about 9:00pm. As the beer arrived, we talked about the class, our professor, and just things students normally talk about. Ironically, while I remember this event with stunning clarity, I do not remember anyone's name at the table that nignt. In fact, after this event, we never met there again. The brain's primary function, remember?

The beer flowed and table talk turned to the somber subject of Veteran's Day. All the guys at the table were Vietnam Vets, and talk soon turned to homecoming experiences. All were very, very bad. First one guy then the other told of getting off the airplanes in their uniforms to be greeted by shouts of "Murderer!" and other horrible insults. One person was spat upon, another ran quickly into a restroom and changed out of his uniform. One after another, I realized these vets were very scarred from events in Vietnam, as well as the revile experienced by their countryment upon coming home from the war.

After a few moments of somber silence, all eyes at the table turned to me. And what was my Vietnam experience? I related the draft board story above, and predictably, those same questioning eyes showed stunned disbelief.

"Well, I'm not going to sit here and drink beer with a son-of-a-bitch like you." The angy vet rose to his full 5'-6" height and glared at me. He did not cut a particularly imposing figure, as he was as round as he was tall, had long unruly black hair and an untrimmed beard. The slammed his empty beer mug down on the table and stormed out of the bar. I was a very fit 6'-1", and despite my sympathy for the story he had revealed to us, he had actually called my manhood into question, and in front of ladies! I followed him out of the bar, fully intending to kick his unstable ass.

The cool November air was invigorating as I passed through the door, and I looked around only to find my potential adversary slumped in a corner, head-in-hands, sobbing deeply. I sat down, put my arm around him and tried my best to console his obvious grief.

That legacy of Vietnam is with us still.

Divorce and Ex-es

I believe you should not ever get one - and ex or a divorce. However, sometimes its just can't be helped.

Its been almost 17 years since we divorced. The anniversary of the event is approaching, and is why I am musing about it now. I've remarried - very happily - and this time it will be forever. My wife and I are soul mates. But in my experience, it has taken an unhappy marriage, and a horrible divorce to really help me to understand and appreciate a great relationship.

Mary (the ex-spouse) and I met in 1975 on an ice skating rink in Houston, Texas. She was just 18 and the product of a very unhappy, even chaotic home situation - workaholic bristly mother, and an unstable homosexual father. And they still lived together! Mom stayed sequested in one part of the house while Dad entertained his gay lovers in another part. She was very ready to get out of the house and be married. While I was a only handful of years older, I should have known better than to get married just three months later. And the full depth of disfunctionality of her childhood homelife was concealed until after our wedding.

Within two years we were blessed with a bright, healthy son, and only fifteen months later a beautiful and talented daughter, both of which are now grown and have children of their own. Unfortunately, these offspring were the only two good products of the marriage. I must assert that I was always a good father, attentive husband and excellent provider. During the early years of our marriage, I attended school at night and earned a mechanical engineering degree, but always devoted weekends and every spare moment to the family. The degree greatly enhanced my earning power, and in my late twenties, launched a very promising career in the oil industry.

The prosperity seemed not to be quite enough for Mary. It was as if the chaos experienced during her formative years required her to construct a facade, so the world would see only what she chose to reveal. While this scenario is true for many humans, the small degree to that "truth" played into her construct was abnormal. While far from qualified for any sort of clinical diagnosis, I believe she was (and probably still is) a borderline sociopath. If facts didn't fit the facade, she would just change them. This means I continually caught her in little untruths. Most were little things - typical of young marrieds. "Did you mail the check to so-and-so?" "Yes" she would answer, but she would not have done it. She lied about the places she went, the people she saw. Little things, Inconsequential things. Very puzzling. While I made note, I only confronted her infrequently about them, because it would always cause a horrible fight and crying fit. "Boo-hoo-hoo. You just don't understand..." While it was true, I didn't understand, for 12 years, I tried to be supportive.

But it began to come unraveled when she stole money from "us". Money just disappeared without logical explanation. She told me she had no money to pay her share of the bills, at one point she was two thousand dollars behind on just her credit card payments - and these were credit cards that I did not know she even had! As a remedy, I borrowed several thousand dollars from my 401K so she could pay off the complete card balances with the condition that she close the accounts. She took the money and made the promise. 6 weeks later, I found out that she had made only the minimum payments, and the rest of the cash had disappeared. "She's so fine, there's no telling where the money went..." The confrontation put a stake in the heart of our marriage.

I suppose some people just get a little crazy in their early thirties, when things don't work out like the fantasies of their twenties. Mary was no different. She had a career, someone made a pass at her while on a business trip, and she disappeared for three days. I mean off the face of the earth. It was a boyfriend she later married. Her justification? I didn't trust her anymore and drove her away. To this day, I am certain she does not believe she was cheating on me.

The marriage officially ended on Nov 21, 1988 when the ink finally dried on the divorce papers. The process of obtaining the divorce was rather painless, after I got over the fact that Texas Dads don't have a snowball's chance in hell in a child custody fight. She got the house, and she got he kids.

While sitting alone in my cheap inner city apartment, I had trouble understanding why my life had to change so radically. And I really, really missed the daily interaction with my children, who were now 9 and 10.

Its the stuff county and western songs are all about....and now I had to live it.

Heaven and Earth aligned

SoxYankees2004 <<---<< In comment to this blog

It was the fourth game of the 2004 World Series. The game was in the 2nd inning as I climbed aboard a regional jet from Houston to Asheville, NC for a weekend at our mountain home in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

We were incommunicado in the RJ, insofar as baseball was concerned. The Sox were up 3-0 on the Yankees in the series - Yanks with their back to the Green Monster, and the "Curse of the Bambino" hanging by a thread.

As the captain pushed the nose over for our descent into Asheville, he made a broad left turn to intercept the final approach path. As the aircraft rolled into the turn, an odd muted reflection found its way into the window, traced its way across the seatback in front of me, jumped over to my leg, and began moving up my chest. I peeked out the window to make an identification of the source. The moon was in full eclipse - the first time I had ever witnessed the phenomenon from 30,000 ft.

"Its a sign", I thought. "Heaven and Earth are in alignment. The curse is broken." As I climbed in my rented Deville, equipped with XM satellite radio, I tuned in the game in the 8th inning.

As the scorekeeper registered the third out in the ninth inning, "Red Sox Win!" flashed up on the XM receiver. Imagine. This final game being played during a rare cosmic event, to immortalize a rag tag group of men more resembling Amish Pirates than a baseball team.

Heaven and earth were in alignment to break an 85 year old curse. 'Tis the stuff of baseball legend.

--a fan of the world's greatest game--

Life Experiences

The following is a set of my life experiences. Most are short, some are funny, some are poignant, and all are very true. They have no particular chronological or logical sequence. They are arranged only in the order that they occur to me, and that is highly random. I've often said that our brain's primary function is to forget things to protect us from ourselves. If we could remember every hurt, disappointment, injury, or bad experience, we would surely go mad. Unfortunately, my brain if too often very efficient in this respect - for I forget far too may things I wish to remember. This blog is to help me organize the random manner that my brain allows remembrances.

You are welcome to read and comment.