And so it begins… Snowmageddon 2019, the Storm of the Century is upon us here in the PACNORWEST!
Major League Baseball has announced a change in nomenclature. Traditional words are now verboten, as it is believed that I am too much of a snowflake to handle the traditional verbiage.
The DAV (Disabled American Veterans) was there for me when I needed them. My Grandfather had been a life member of the DAV, and it was they who showed up to his funeral to deliver the 21 gun salute to a Veteran who had passed on. My experience in making my original claim was completely positive and I was deeply impressed with my VSO’s (Veteran’s service Officer) knowledge and ability to navigate the system.
As I sat in the main meeting hall at the Chapter 5 DAV on Saturday my thoughts traveled back over the years. The DAV was a “no brainer” for me, but what about the other Veterans Service Organizations? As a ‘younger” Veteran myself, why was it that I was not at all interested in participating or being a part of these worthy organizations? and why do they continue to struggle to attract younger Veterans today?
I have some ideas about it…
Normally a Monday goes kind of like this: Get up between 0600 and 0630. Get coffee. Read online papers and listen to the TV news. Check Fantasy baseball waiver wire (I am having a terrible season). Around 0730, wake up Ben. Feed Ben. Pack lunch for Ben, dress Ben and generally finish tasks until 0843, then we leave for school. At 0900 Ben starts school, so I return home to finish up a few things and then by 0930 or so I try to be in the studio to record whatever it is that I have cooked up for the days podcast.
Usually I have had the weekend to think about things, and I have some remarkable thought that I want to build a show around. For example, we stayed in a hotel this weekend where Ben insisted on reading to us the emergency procedures every time we passed them. Specifically he was most concerned that in the event of a fire, we not use the elevator. He had the “don’t use the elevator” part down, but he wasn’t so clear on the why. I really didn’t want to get too graphic with him, so I tried to explain to him that when the electricity fails the elevator gets stuck and you might roast in the elevator.
Also, I informed him – NEVER use an elevator on a ship. Period. Always take the stairs. He wanted to know why, and I didn’t have the heart to share with him the stories about the Lusitania cooks who panicked and tried to escape using the elevator. So I just told him that if the ship floods, it’s easier to swim up the stairs than it is the elevator.
Which all left me to thinking about elevators and emergencies. Specifically, why don’t elevators have Fail Safe systems built into them so that when power is lost, they automatically descend to the next floor down and open the door? Or even the lobby floor? Why are they designed so that they just stop on loss of power? On a submarine, when we lose power, the Main Ballast Tank Vents “fail shut.” They fail in a position that allows them to function and the submarine to blow ballast and surface. It didn’t seem to me that elevators would be that difficult to design to fail safe.
So normally I would have worked that into a conversation this morning about how the plan for the firing of James Comey didn’t appear to have a built in fail safe; or how the PDRK missile launch flew for 700km over thirty minutes (seriously?) lacked a fail safe system. It would have been something along those lines.
But instead of all of that, today I have a rare opportunity to spend time with my parents and some extended family I have not seen since… 2006, I believe.
If you know anything about me, you know that my family is simply the most important thing there is. In the past year I have learned a great deal about our history. But sadly, I have also discovered how much of that history is lost. Forever.
So I have this rare opportunity and I am taking it. As you read this I am probably sitting around a table engaged in a conversation about the past. My past. My family’s past.
All so that I can try to preserve as much of it as I can, for the future.
See ya tomorrow.
In the immortal words of Tony DeSare, I’ve really got s lot to sy about yesterday’s adventure.
On the downside, Ben had been sick since we went to Tacoma a couple of weeks ago. He’s had a cough that is now getting worse and an eye infection, possibly pink eye – that isn’t responding to the eye drops.
When I got home late last night, he was still awake. I walked into the bedroom and he saw me – yes, he was still awake – and I wish that I had the right words to describe the smile that slowly spread across his face. His eye meeting mine, it was the kind of moment that makes being a Dad so incredible.
“Dad, you were gone all day,” he said, not whining, but just happy to see me.
I was. It was a “Dave Day.” The first one I’ve had in years, and I enjoyed myself very much. I laughed, I saw things I’d not seen before and I spent time with my cousin. I’ve told you many times that I am closer to him than most any of the rest of my family, so it was good day. We closed the day catching a Comedy show in Modesto, and my sides still hurt from laughter.
None of that compares to that smile Ben had when I got home.
I will have a lot to say about what we saw and did and why. But Ben is sick today, his eyes hurting and his throat sore. Even his ears seem to bother him. So we’re off again to see his pediatrician and hopefully get this knocked out for good.
As soon as I get a quiet moment, I’ll be in the studio and ready to talk.
Because I’ve really got a lot to say!