Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Broken Wheel


In the immortal words of the mighty Snoop Dogg Lion, "Guess who's back in the mutha####in' HEYOUSE!"  I figure five years is an adequate hiatus from putting pen to parchment.  Time to knock off the dust, settle in, buckle up, and drop phat subjects and predicates.

The reason for the absence is impossible to explain.  It started out as one thing then became another thing and ended as a different thing.  A melange of life experiences.  But through the process I lost the drive to write.  I forgot about the blissful catharsis that writing can bring.  I tried reinventing in different ways.  I tried my hand at art, beginning with watercolor and fizzling with acrylics.  I tried music, but my chronic instrument ADHD got in the way of much progress with anything. Coincidentally, if anyone is in the market for a guitarist, bassist, ukeist, banjoist, mandolinist, pianist, or harmonickest for a I/IV/V band that only plays in C and never strays from that pocket then I'm your guy.  But eventually I came to the inevitable conclusion that writing is the standalone way for me to clear my emotional mechanism.  

So many years have passed that I'm confident this blog is forgotten and lost beneath the dust.  Are blogs even a thing anymore?  But this is good.  One of my many reasons for the pause was the fear of putting my thoughts on a page.  Somehow it gives them life.  It makes them real.  In my head I can mull things around, work and churn them, then toss them aside with no one being the wiser.  But as soon as they are documented then they become real and thus harder to confront.  A troll is easy to ignore if it's in my imagination.  Less so if it's given life, standing in front of me swinging a tree stump at my face.

But I'm beginning to think the troll needs to be fought.  

There is an old Italian proverb, "l'aqua chieta rovina i ponti."  Translation, "still water ruins bridges."  The idea is that the surface of the water may be still and calm, suggesting there is no danger, but below the surface there is corrosion, sediment, and various ecological processes that are literally destroying that bridge from below.  I am exploring the concept that idle thoughts unwritten can destroy the mind.  At least if I grant them life I can confront them.  

And so we begin.  Back in the saddle.  Standing.

Monday, December 5, 2011

A Certain Bromance


I’d always been mystified as to why combat veterans rarely talk about their experiences in war.  Veterans that had been psychologically affected by what they heard and saw should benefit by speaking about it, right?  Call it catharsis.  Those that weren’t adversely affected should love talking about the incredible, intense things they did and witnessed.  No?  NO.

With all due respect to veterans, I think I get it.  On a much smaller level I finally get it.

A number of months ago I made a lofty goal to run a half marathon.  13.1 miles.  It had been many years since I’d traded my sneakers for slippers and tennis balls for hot pockets.  The last time I did anything active I was 40 lbs lighter and George W edged Al Gore thanks to the hanging chad.  I was going from 0 to 60, but I was going dammit.  I was determined.  I talked my good friend Steve into running it with me and we started our training.

I was humbled quickly.  I didn’t have proper respect for the process and the process brought me to my knees.  I tried running two miles my first time out.  I walked the final three quarters and could hardly move for several days afterward.  But I quickly repented, invested in some gear, and started again.  Slowly.  Three weeks into training, a second friend decided to join Steve and me.  Jayd laced up.

My sister Ashley has always said “everyone that runs a marathon has a story.”  You don’t simply say, “Sure, I’ll run 13-26 miles.  Sounds like fun.”  Because it’s not..  Important, yes.  Invigorating, yes.  But fun?  No.  It hurts.  It’s exhausting.  Shins splint, toe nails turn black and fall off, blisters form, groins chafe, nipples bleed.  The process is punishing.  But the payoff is pure.  You learn things about yourself during training.  You push yourself beyond your perceived limits and find strength you never knew you had.  Some mornings you have to literally force yourself outside, just to hobble through three miles of hell.

When race day arrived we all felt ready.  We’d handled our final long run with ease, banging out 11.5 and feeling good afterward.  We weaved our way through the 35,000 people participating in the San Antonio Rock ‘n Roll events and found our corrals.  It was an odd morning…abnormally warm and balmy, but overcast.  The throng of people was overwhelming.  It was shoulder to shoulder as we waited for the gun.  And then we were OFF.

I was immediately frustrated by the sheer mass of runners, walkers, and waddlers.  Everyone was pacing dramatically slower than their corrals represented and I was constantly dodging slower runners.  There was a ton of lateral movement as I cut around, through, and sometimes over the cattle.  I ran up hills, on curbs, over sidewalks, on grass.  I bumped into people.  It was literally impossible to pick a lane and establish a rhythm.  There were just too many freaking people.

Jayd and I ran together (within 10 yards of one another) for the first eight miles.  I hydrated at mile five and dropped a few shot bloks at mile seven.  I saw Jayd grab some water at mile six.

At mile eight, Jayd started to pull away.  In training I was typically 15-30 seconds per mile faster than Jayd, so I maintained the pace that I was able to manage, figuring Jayd would eventually flame out.  He didn’t.  He continued to weave and dodge obstacles and limping fat people at an impressive pace and at mile 10 I decided I needed to kick it up a notch.  No way was I going to allow this guy to finish before me. 

I caught up to him at about 10.5 and made some snide comment like, “hey dude, I’ll give you $10 if you carry me the rest of the way.”  He didn’t respond.  Jayd was in a zone.  He was focused and he meant business.  After a few hundred yards of running together, Jayd pulled away yet again.  “No way” I thought to myself.  But I was really feeling it now in my legs and I had no ability to keep up with him.  I fell back and ran at my own pace.  At 11.75 I started to see bright bursts of light.  The sun had been out for 30 minutes and the combination of extreme fatigue, 97% humidity, and 80 degree temperature was besting my Spaniard.  I knew I was in trouble.  I stopped and rested against a metal fence separating the halfers from the marathoners.  When the bright lights stopped, I walked until mile 12 and started running again.  I was determined to finish this race running.  And I did!  I finished with a somewhat disappointing time of 2:19.

After I got my munchies and fluids I worked my way through the craziness to get my stuff at gear check.  There were a number of missed texts, one of which informing me that Jayd had collapsed just after 13.0 and was hauled off in a stretcher.

WHAT?!  No way.  With 1/10 of a mile left, Jayd went down.  He was rushed to the hospital.  And it was serious.

He was admitted with a temperature of 106 and a heart rate of 170.  He was not responding and had had seizures.  We got a call from his wife, Tauni, telling us to get to the hospital ASAP.  Jayd needed a blessing.

I am an elder in my church, and with that title comes certain responsibilities and authority.  One of which is to administer to the sick and afflicted through the laying on of hands, otherwise known as “a blessing.”  I sprinted from the parking lot to the ER

I’ll never forget what I saw when they drew that curtain.  There lay Jayd, stark naked minus a small towel to hide his junk, with wires and electrodes all over his body.  He was a sickly pale yellow color and his arms and legs were bound with leather restraints.  I was looking at someone that appeared to be on death’s door.  That is no exaggeration.  I was petrified.

I have a lot of respect for Jayd’s wife, Tauni.  She is a very “collected” person.  Quite analytical, never emotional, and very understated.  But she is intense.  Not in an overt, frightening way.  It’s subtle and small.  But very real.  When I looked at Tauni she was straight-faced and stoic.  She was somehow managing the situation with quiet grace, but her intensity was still there.  She told me she’d been asking doctor-after-doctor and nurse-after-nurse if he was going to be “ok.”  Naturally she got no straight answers…just “medispeak.”  I get it of course.  No medical professional is going to go out on a limb and say, “suuuuure honey, he’ll be just fine” when there’s a solid chance that he’s brain-dead at best. After a brief rundown of what was going on there was a moment of silence.  She looked at me and asked, “Ty, he’s going to be ok, right?” 

I didn’t know what to say.  The God’s truth is that I did not think he was going to be ok.  How could anyone think that pasty, yellow man hooked up to all the machines could possibly be ok?  But Tauni’s typically intense, smoldering eyes had a hint of panic in them.  So I said, “Yes Tauni.  He’s going to be ok.”  I didn’t believe it, but I felt I had to roll the dice and say it.  I could actually see a physical change in her posture and a softening in her face.  It was as if she just needed to hear it from someone….anyone.  She looked stronger.  I felt good.

I positioned myself behind Jayd’s bed and took a few deep breaths.  I was terrified.  It was hard to swallow.  Just as I was timidly placing my shaking hands on his head, a nurse walked in and looked at me like I was a mafia hit man about to ice an informant with a pillow.  Tauni assured her that I was going to give him a blessing.  After casting me a sideways glance she reluctantly left.

The circumstance was not ideal for performing a priesthood ordinance.  The ER was bustling with runners and other odd folk that day.  There was the sound of curtains being drawn/closed and loud voices.  Machines were blipping and beeping like an epic game of multiplayer Pac man.  But I was confident that I could filter out any distraction and blaze a trail for divine inspiration.  I was wrong.

When my hands met Jayd’s head I felt nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  I felt no inspiration.  I had no vibe…positive or negative.  The floodgates of Heaven were not opening….and I was scared.  I needed some time to gather my thoughts, so I took it.  My mind raced while I paused.  What do I do now?!  I didn’t want to put off any kind of negative energy.  That was the last thing Tauni needed at this point in time.  Finally I decided to start with simply citing the things I know about Jayd and building on those things.

I let Jayd know that his Father in Heaven loves him.  I know that’s true.  I believe that with all my heart.  I am confident that God loves all His children.  I told Jayd that his family loves him and needs him.  And they do.  He is a stellar father and a genuinely great person.  I confidently spoke to Jayd’s great faith and how that faith is what would make him whole.  If there’s one thing we know from the Bible it is that people were healed through a combination of Christ’s power and their faith.  Whatever Jayd’s spiritual shortcomings may be, faith is not one of them.  We’ve had many conversations over the past couple of years that have had religious undertones, and Jayd is legit.  He is a believer.  He is a man of faith.

Then it came time for me to flex my own paltry faith and go out on my own brittle limb.  Without any specific divine direction, I blessed Jayd with a peaceful mind and a still heart.  I asked God, and blessed Jayd, that he would wake up quickly.  I prayed for the doctors and nurses to perform their duties with inspiration and intelligence.  And finally I told Jayd that one day soon we would be able to look back on this experience and laugh.  Because that’s what Jayd and I do.  We banter and laugh.  Then I quietly ended my blessing and removed my hands.

I stayed in Jayd’s curtained space for about 15 minutes speaking with Tauni.  During that time he woke up a handful of times as we visited, but there was nothing behind his eyes.  I believe his basic primal instincts were taking over.  All he knew was that he was in a bad situation and his body was restrained.  Every ounce of energy he had was being routed to his need to get out of those restraints.  I was dumbfounded at how STRONG he was as Tauni and I tried to get him back onto the bed.  After a few of these fits I elected to go wait outside and leave the two of them alone.

The only place I could find to sit was in the hallway just outside the ER waiting area.  I was sitting, collecting my thoughts, analyzing what I’d just witnessed when a woman in her early fifties approached me with what appeared to be her husband and two grown children.  “Excuse me, could you tell me where I could get some information?” she asked.  “Information about what?”  “About one of the runners that would have been brought here from the marathon.”  “Oh, you can just go ask at the ER desk around the corner.”  She thanked me and they casually walked around the corner.  About two minutes later, a hospital staff member brought them back to where I was and knocked on the door directly in front of me.  The door opened and the family went inside.  And then came the screams.  I’ll never, ever forget the sound of those screams.  Their runner, a 32-year old super-fit military man, collapsed after he finished and was rushed to this hospital where he was pronounced dead on arrival.  DEAD.

As we got the vans situated to get Tauni’s kids home so she could stay in San Antonio my cell phone rang.  It was Tauni.  “Jayd just woke up” she said.  WHAT?!  It had been less than an hour since the blessing and he was already awake.  She told me the first words that came out of his mouth were “I know who you are.”  The next words were “Did I finish the race?”

After myriad tests and scans and probes and who-knows-what, the mystified doctors discharged Jayd after four days in the hospital, two of which were spent in ICU.  He’s home now, with a new lease on life.

I think about this experience a lot.  Many times daily.  For a few solid days it haunted my thoughts, even while I slept.  Words cannot do justice to what I heard and saw in that San Antonio ER on November 13th, 2011.  And this is why I identify (on a microscopic level) with the combat vet.  It’s a useless story to tell to someone that wasn’t there.  You may get it on some level.  You might have even gone through a similarly traumatic experience in your life.  But you weren’t there.  It’s the ultimate “guess you had to be there” scenario.  You didn’t see the horrors or hear the screams.  It was a singularly unique experience to you and the people you fought with.  Those are the only people that truly “get it.”  I can see through the hollow nods and vacant “wow”s that I get from people I tell the story to.  It’s a story worth telling and it needs to be told, but I bloody-well hate telling it.

I’m very grateful.  The honest truth is that I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to Jayd.  He’s a crucial friend that I value and admire tremendously.  Kind of like Art Garfunkel’s harmonies.  The world is better with him in it.  It’s a bromance.  I’m stoked to have him back. 

 My magic blessing worked you know.  His mind was calmed, his heart was stilled, he woke up quickly, and now we’re able to look back on the experience with some degree of whimsy.  No jokes yet.  But they’ll come.  It’s just a matter of time.  And that’s ok.  Time we have.

(Left to Right) Ty, Jayd, Steve

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

18% Gay


I hope everyone sees this for what it is.  Satire.  Stereotypes will abound and, hopefully, so will the chortles.  We need to be able to laugh at ourselves.

I believe that you are either born gay, or born straight.  That’s a controversial opinion, given my theological and political circles, but I believe it nonetheless.  That said, I believe that straight dudes are at least a little gay and gay guys are partially straight. 

The following is a list of 30 yes/no questions with assigned point values.  Straight folks tally your princess points.  To my gay homies, count up your butch points.  Ask yourselves each question and find out how gay you are.  Or straight.  Sorry for excluding you ladies, but I’m simply not qualified to make any list from a female perspective.  I’ve placed an asterisk next to my own princess points.

Princess Points

Can you tell the difference between yellow and “sunflower?”  +1*
Have you seen Cats more than once?  +2*
Do you maintain your cuticles?  +1
Do you apply Chap Stick on a regular basis?  +1
Have you ever watched Dirty Dancing by yourself, or without a female present?  +5*
Have you ever read Little Women or Pride and Prejudice?  +2
Do you know who Jerome Robbins is?  +2*
Can you identify Bob Fosse choreography?  +2*
Did you cry at any time during Steel Magnolias?  +1*
Have you ever paid more than $300 for eyeglass frames or sunglasses?  +1*
Can you bake any pastry or bread item without the help of a recipe?  +2*
Have you ever made freezer jam alone or with another guy?  +3
Do you apply lotion every day?  +1
Do you own a Liza Minnelli album?  +5
Do you tweeze your eyebrows?  +2  (Extreme uni-brows are exempt)
Do you consider a scarf an “accessory?”  +2
Does your belt buckle have to match your watch?  +2
Have you ever watched a bodybuilding competition?  +3
Have you ever worn a cravat?  +5
Do you watch “Real Housewives of _____?”  +2
Can you name at least 4 of the men chosen as “The Bachelor?”  +1*
Have you ever filed your feet?  +1
Do you think Matthew McConaughey is a good actor?  +5
Can you properly fold a napkin?  +1
Can you tell the difference between a dessert fork, dinner fork, and salad fork?  +1*
Do you check a bag for a trip of three days or less?  +1
Do you own a dinner jacket?  +3
Do you shave your chest?  +1
Do you pay more than $17 for a haircut?  +1
Have you ever bought furniture at Pottery Barn?  +2

Butch Points

Do you ever tear your toenails instead of clipping them?  +1
Have you ever worn brown shoes with a black belt?  +3
Do you own less than 3 pair of black shoes?  +2
Do you deer hunt?  +2
Do you fish?  +1
Do you own any garment made by Carhartt?  +3
Do you drive a truck that runs on diesel fuel?  +2
Would you like a BBQ-scented Yankee Candle burning regularly in your home?  +1
Do you think the Blue Collar Comedy Tour is funny?  +1
Do you follow NASCAR?  +3
Have you ever worn a bolo tie?  +1
Do you own duck waders?  +2
Do you have chums attached to your sunglasses?  +1
Can you change the oil in your own car?  +1
Do you snort and swallow instead of blowing your nose?  +2
Do you own an official jersey of your favorite NFL, NBA, or Baseball team?  +2
Do you like Charles Bronson movies?  +3
Can you wear a shirt in public that has an obvious stain on it?  +1
Do you insist on grilling over charcoal?  +1
Do you own and fill a “ghetto mug” with a beverage from a service station?  +1
Would you shop at K-Mart with coupons?  +3
Can you name 3 John Wayne movies?  +2
Would you skin and gut an animal that someone else killed?  +5
Do you know what “hitting for the cycle” means?  +3
Do you play violent shooter-type video games?  +2
Can you name two albums by Rush?  +2
Have you arm-wrestled more than 5 times in your life?  +1
Do you own more than two different types of hammers?  +2
Do you polish off a T Bone steak by picking it up with your hands and gnawing the remaining meat off the bone?  +4
Have you ever served a store-bought cheese ball?  +1

Add it up folks.  Report!

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