Summertime, and the living is....maddening

Every year about this time, I remember why I love autumn. And it dawns on me how long it'll be before I say, "Kind of a chill in the air this morning, love."

I don't like having to take extra showers each day. I don't enjoy the feel of sweaty legs under my denim jeans. I hate having to park my school bus under a tree to get it cool enough for the a/c to do any good.

I wonder how I made it as a kid. As a ten year-old, I spent every day except Sunday hiking down the railroad track near our house. Didn't wear a hat or bring water with me. The heat reflected off the stone ballast next to the rails, so in effect, you were nailed twice by the rays. Yet I don't remember any problems with the heat. (I just remember getting dangerously close to the trains...day after day after day.)

The sad thing is that summer is not exclusive to June, July, and August. Let's face it...it will be November before we smell good again.

A Tasty Blast from the Past

How many of you out there remember these?

These were 6 and a half ounce wake-up calls. I so wish Coke still made them. The Coke of today bears little resemblance to these babies. Today's weak representation is a watered-down, sorry imitation of the real thing. Taking a swig of this mighty midget set off taste bud alarms throughout the entirety of your mouth. Swallowing two gulps back-to-back was almost impossible. The power of this stuff was awesome.

I don't know whether extra caffeine was stashed in these little liquid grenades. I suspect that was one factor in its jolt. During the first years of my teaching career, once I had signed in at the office, I headed straight to the Coke machine. Seems like the cost was either 15 or 20 cents. But I did not miss a day. I had to have the rush before I began the day. Often on weekends when I skipped my habit, I'd get a pounding headache...a sure sign that I was addicted to the stuff.

Another interesting thing about the bottles. On the bottom of each bottle was the imprint of what city that bottle had been "born". I used to line up my empties on the chalk tray, sorted by the section of the U.S. from which they had come. Man, I miss these babies.

Anyone else (near my age, of course) want to share memories of the baby Coke?

No more FT's!

I took a group of elementary choral students to Sandy Lake Park today. I think it was my 60th field trip of the year. As I threaded the yellow-hound through LBJ/holiday/Friday traffic this afternoon, I couldn't wait to get 'em safely home and wrap up a safe year of doing trips.

Field trips are where the money is...I earn my hourly wage from the time I leave to travel to the school until I bring my bus back to the lot. Last year, one of the trips lasted 16+ hours. So I'm on the clock even as I read novels, take naps, and ponder life...while waiting on the kiddoes to wrap up whatever trip they're on.

Sadly, however, for most of my co-workers, this is their only job. The newbies start off at $13/hour, so there's no wonder that getting field trips is critical to their budgets. Of course, I have my teacher retirement to draw on. They don't. Our bus lot was rocked with a scandal about a decade ago when it was discovered that trips were being awarded based upon money "under the table". It got real ugly.

But for me and a few of my fellow retired educators, it's pretty much an ideal job. One of the guys is a PhD. So when a bus pulls up in Dallas to board some students, your driver could be uneducated or extremely educated. Of course, how ideal the job is depends greatly on your, uh, clientele. Please don't ever give me Skyline High School students. They send a lot of drivers to snoop out other professions.

BTW, I had to do my best McIver impression today. The rear a/c quit this afternoon, and with a heat index over 100, this was serious. I borrowed a penny, and not because I was broke. I used the penny to open up a panel that exposed all the bus' electrical wiring. I fiddled around with the wires connected with the a/c switch and got it working again. Of course, McIver would have gotten the bus to fly somehow.

Easing Toward Sunset

These are not easy times as my mom advances through her 80's. Physically, she's frail, weighing less than 90 lbs. Mentally, every day brings more confusion to her daily routine, as brain cells no longer work as they once did. Mom has trouble doing the normal stuff of life now. She knows it, too, and it's driving her nuts - adding stress to the situation.

I'm pretty much her caretaker now. Two of my siblings live hours away. My sister teaches school in the area and will give me some help this summer. It's weird. Mom used to never call me. But as soon as we sold her car early this year, she has called me daily, often several times a day. I help her with bill-paying and grocery shopping.

Mom is troubled by the fact that she needs such assistance. She's always been fiercely independent and a real can-do person. When I leave her after a visit these days, she apologizes until I finally have to cut her off. She probably never thought she's ever need to lean on others. (I know I feel that way...pretty foolish of me).

I can't say I enjoy the "inconvience" this has caused me. But when I consider the mountain of love, care, and attention she has given me the last 59 years, I realize I'll never be able to run enough errands to tilt the balances my direction. What a blessing that she and Dad had four kids, with two of them close enough to be of help to her! I shudder to think where she'd be without us right now.

So I thank God that I'm able to "return the favor" as it were. Couldn't happen to a finer lady.

Clutter

Seems like I'm always on I-30...and one thing that bothers me greatly is the amount of visual pollution on either side of the highway. Are billboards really necessary? They are so embedded in our collective conciousness that we scarcely notice them; it's like we've always wanted them there, like we prefer clutter to neatness. We really do live in an attractive area - wouldn't it be nice if we could see it?

It doesn't have to be this way. Forty years ago, Vermont banned billboards. Also large signs of any kind. Want to put in a Holiday Inn? All that will be allowed you in the way of signage is a narrow, horizontal sign about four feet off the ground. The result is stunning. Folks travelling through the state are presented with incredible vistas, totally free of peeling, obtrusive billboards. The trees and rivers of Vermont can be seen in all God's intended glory.

So I think we need to make this mandatory in the other 49 states. Admittedly, this may not be such a swell idea in Oklahoma...where billboards may actually protect the eyes from uninspiring topography. But if we can imagine world peace or even whirled peas, we can imagine applying Visine to our countryside.

I put in a new garden today...

But mainly I just want you to click on the amazing picture just above. Nice. Real nice.

Oh, yeah. The garden looks great and I'm real sore. I'll wait until June to show you a shot of it. Needs time to flourish, ya' know.

New Digs

Ever been around folk who won't shut up about something in which you have no interest? Pretty tough to take, eh? Well, I'm guilty of this heinous crime. I will harrass people with my history of driving tired, old school buses until they're yellow in the face. The only person who understands me is my brother-in-law, Joe. Joe spent one year of his retirement driving for Rockwall ISD and enjoyed it so much that he wanted to drive his route over the Christmas holidays, simply because he loved the feeling of driving the bus.

Well, after 25 years of driving worn-out, old, raggedy, embarrassing yellowhounds, I will be cruising the highways and streets with a 2008 IC 300. With the exception of the black hood, it looks like the above bus. It has way too many amenities for me to mention here - besides, you've already quit reading by this point.

For the first time in my life, I'm wishing for summer to fly by.

I'm a sick man.

Cleaning out the sludge

Blame it on my dad. We Perkins men have high cholesterol. We're locked into it by our fiendish DNA. Back when I ran 60 miles a week training for a marathon, I still registered in the mid-200's on the cholesterol scale. A couple of years ago, I was just over 300, all the while watching my diet reasonably well.

My internist put me on Lipitor. The next checkup I was down to 168 or so. But then the checkup after that had me inching toward 200. So a 2nd drug, Zetia, was added to the protocol. After six months, I returned to the doc this week to find out how things were going. It was with a little nervousness, too. I knew in my heart of hearts (what does that mean?) that my sweet tooth (silly phrase, eh?) had gotten the best of me lately. Too many candy bars and desserts had forced their way into my diet. I had been powerless to stop their assault.

I had been fumbling for excuses in my mental prep for the visit with Dr. Dimmitt. "Gee, doc. Think of all the holidays we've had since I saw you in October: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Arbor Day." Or, "At my age, shouldn't I be making concessions to cravings?" So imagine my amazement when he announced that my cholesterol level was a cool 140! I know Dimmitt must have been inwardly impressed with my discipline even though he suppressed his admiration. Even the HDL and LDL numbers were spectacular.

Pass the pie, please.

I Peel for You

First of all, be sure to click on the above image. Amazing!

Stupidity has its consequences. Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to differentiate between what's dumb and what's not. I'm currently paying the price for not slathering sunblock on my face at Saturday's airshow. My beautiful mug is peeling like a leper.

When I vigorously rub the sides of my face, I temporarily create white-out conditions around me. I have to stand and clear my lap like a one year-old eating crackers. Now I know what Oklahoma was like in the Dust Bowl days. I was sitting in my bus this afternoon, minding my own business, when a large cornflake-lookin' piece of dead tissue drifted past my face. It was intensely embarrassing.

All of this could have been avoided had I heeded the advice I preached to my kids everytime they went outside. I did wear a cap, but it did little good other than to protect my bald spot. Being 59 years old, I'm not too fond of looking in the mirror anymore anyway, but now it is doubly painful.

Isn't it ingenious how your body lets you know when you've mistreated it?

Road Trip Report

Steve and I had a great time, but the trip tripped out when Steve tripped. We had just been allowed into the area where you can check out the aircraft that will later be flying in the airshow. And stupid me, I set my camera bag down in the general vicinity of where we were standing, and proceeded to take a shot of one of the planes. Steve stepped back to get out of my way and fell backwards over my bag onto the concrete tarmac.

He fell hard and I knew it had to hurt badly. Several nearby airmen rushed up to help him to his feet and true to Steve's incredible nature, he immediately inquired about whether my equipment was damaged. Well, my stuff was okay, but he had banged his hip on the unforgiving surface. Like a true warrior, he shrugged off help and limped around with me for the next hour as we continued to tour the aircraft.

He hung in there the rest of the day; in fact, his pedometer indicated that he had managed to walk over 3 miles before we climbed back in the car to leave. The next 3 hours were spent in wonderful conversation and time flew by as quickly as the wildflowers along the roadside.

Steve felt pretty bad Sunday and I continued to worry that there might be a fracture somewhere, but I'm happy to report (and he is too) that he felt much better today, and put in a full day of errand running.

Crazy guy, he still wants to go to another airshow first chance we get.

Road Trip

On Friday, good buddy Steve Leaming and I will head for lovely (?) Abilene, Texas with the purpose of attending an airshow on Saturday. Since I don't fish, hunt, or play golf, this is as close as I come to "a weekend with the guys".

It's good that Steve will be riding shotgun. He's a fascinating conversationalist and quick with a pun. In fact, he will start punning about something and keep the puns flying until I yell, "Stop, enough, I can't take it anymore!!" Also, I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that Steve, brilliant as he is, is an humble servant of God and continually treats others with incredible Christian love.

The weather in Abilene will be ideal. Sunny with a high around 72. I've been to two airshows in the last 3 years. One featured 40 mph winds and the other one almost killed me when I got dehydrated in extreme heat. I'm ready for normal weather conditions. Naturally, Steve and I are pumped up about getting up close and personal with military aircraft.

Interestingly, after nearly 40 years of constant trips to Abilene for various reasons (college, National Guard, basketball tournaments, etc.), I'll see the town for the first time in six years. Last time was in '02 for Brooke's graduation.

What's on my mind...

It's a mellow spring afternoon here in Rockwall and these are the things I'm thinking about...

1. Going to a retirement party for my good friend Steve Leaming tonight. He's one week into his retirement from the City of Dallas. He had a wonderful little party given to him on his last day there and all the folks talked about how they cherished his friendship. There's a good chance that he and I will spend next weekend together at an airshow in Abilene. He's great to have along because he can identify any aircraft that's ever lifted off a runway. He's also the nicest person I know.

2. Tomorrow is missions Sunday at our church. The typical response to a "missions Sunday" is a yawn. Boring reports from faraway places. However, the older I've become, the more I've appreciated the work done by men and women in extraordinarily difficult locales. I also am fully cognizant that to find a mission field, all I have to do is step out my front door. But I get a rush when I hear how many new brothers and sisters in the Lord I'm getting from places I've never heard of.

3. Did yard work for three hours this morning. It is probably the healthiest activity I have. It is rigorous exercise for an increasingly aging body. Mowing, edging, weedeating, and weeding work all the body parts, and I'm sittin' here very sore. But he who sits, dies.

4. I'm watching the NFL draft. Which brings me to what Jerry Jones is doing to the Cowboys. What in the name of Michael Irvin is he thinking with this Pacman Jones interest? Doesn't character and integrity factor into anything anymore? For those of you who don't know, Pacman has had double-digit run-ins with the law and has been arrested six times. He frequents strip-clubs and coming to Dallas is something he'll love since we have 54 of those type establishments within the city limits.

5. You should see the poor girls who board my bus every school day. What they have to carry is truly amazing. Everyone carries a laptop and all the other necessities. Yesterday, a girl was toting two musical instruments, a music stand, a laptop, a backpack, and a purse. It's an a two-minute process just to load up and get off the bus. Another girl was dragging a cello back and forth every day last week. But this does show you the type of passengers I now get to transport these days. Ah, life is good.

From out of the blue...

This morning had been hectic. Perhaps I should pause here immediately and say that, compared to ordinary workers in America, I don't have anything to complain about. My little part-time retirement job is about as cushy as it gets. So with that out of the way...I had to gas up the bus this morning, always a challenge in that diesel fuel is messy and I wear gloves to keep it at a distance. Plus, I had to load a cooler and a large first-aid kit onto my bus.

Then after my usual morning run, I had to somehow get from Fair Park to a school near Jupiter and McCree in less than 30 minutes. When I got to LBJ, well, it was LBJ: totally parking lot-ish. I diverted immediately, then called Brett in San Antonio for alternate directions, since he's real good at that. I arrived at the school with 2 minutes to spare. The bus was quickly saturated with kindergarten kiddoes who were amped up for a trip to the country. Our destination was the DISD Environmental Education facility, buried deep in the hinterlands of Seagoville.

I noted that my shoulders and neck were tensed and tired as I drove the 35-minute trip. I had now been driving 3 hours. We got there safely and I finally was able to pull the bus into a remote parking lot. This environmental center is perfect to teach city kids about nature. It is miles away from anything and is surrounded by trees, flora, and fauna. (I never met those girls.) There is no noise to speak of. It's one cool place.

So I finally got to turn off the engine, and for a moment just sat there and relaxed. Then, the neatest thing happened. A bluebird alit on one of my two fisheye mirrors mounted in front of the bus. She was gorgeous, sporting a color of blue that would be hard to replicate at Sherwin-Williams. Then she started hovering in front of the mirror, apparently watching herself and enjoying what she saw. Then she flew 4 feet to the left and alit on the other mirror, then began to hover and watch her reflection on this side. Back and forth, back and forth. I was blessed with about a five-minute show. It was absolutely mesmerizing.

When she finally left for her next engagement, I noticed that stress and tension were gone. Thanks, God!

Hypotheticals

1. Would you rather be enormously wealthy or fabulously good-looking?

2. Would you rather be 22 years-old and have a job you love or be 59 years-old and be retired?

3. Would you rather be able to sing gloriously or be able to speak eloquently in front of any group?

4. Would you rather live on a remote hillside in Vermont or a beachside home on Waikiki Beach?

5. Would you rather be able to be fluent in a convenient language like Spanish or be fluent in an exotic language like Russian?

I hate hypotheticals. I apologize for doing this, but it was time for another blog entry.

7th Heaven...17th Heaven?

I spend a lot of time reading books about heaven. One might ask why I "waste" so much time on something that is totally in God's hands. Well, I figure the more I know about heaven, the greater incentive I'll have to go there.

But the problem is the Bible's incredible near-silence on the matter. Jesus barely broached the subject. He spoke way more about hell. And I have all the usual questions I want answered: Will heaven be in heaven or on a re-created earth? Will we know each other? Where are the dead in Christ currently? And dozens more.

The situation I'm currently up against is a book on the hereafter by noted Church of Christ scholar, F. LaGard Smith. He is absolutely brilliant. I had just finished books by Randy Alcorn and Max Lucado on heaven - and I had decided that (1) the dead in Christ are in Paradise, a step below heaven, and (2) heaven would be here on a renewed, regenerated earth, with the New Jerusalem as its centerpiece - a massive, literal city. But LaGard steps into this lovely picture and kicks down the easel. He makes a convincing case that the dead in Christ are "asleep" (N.T. terminology) and will arise when Christ comes again. He also shoots down the earth as the locale for the New Jerusalem. He says heaven will be in such a different dimension so totally beyond our grasp that it precludes accurate description. And that the earth will be totally destroyed, down to the last atom, forever.

Of course, whichever side is right, it's going to be beyond belief. I just wish the New Testament came with pictures.

Listening to the Wind

I'm really ambivalent about this time of year. The in-between seasons of fall and spring offer so much of God's handiwork that is pleasing to the eye. Spring, as we all know, is an awakening. Buds bloom, leaves appear, and atrophied muscles twitch to life after a winter of neglect.

I love to flip the Lang calendar from March to April. But what I almost expect to see instead of blooming flowers is an angry, writhing funnel ripping houses off their foundations. It's true that tornadoes can come any month of the year, but we all know that prime-time for these nasty things is April, May, and June.

One of the more unforgettable days of my life was April 2, 1957. On that day, the deadliest twister in Dallas history carved a path from Singleton Blvd. to Love Field. I had finished throwing my paper route that day and was home watching "My Little Margie" on TV when they interrupted programming to alert us to the tornado. My Mom and I went to the far end of our back yard, looked west, and saw it. Mom was great. Her motherly instincts kicked in as she announced, "It's gonna hit our house!" Fortunately, we were miles away, but since a 9 year-old believes his momma, I was petrified for the rest of the day.

One day later, a local TV station put together a two-hour recap of the tornado. Much of the show was ground-breaking, since rarely if ever had cameramen gotten as close to the funnel as they had the day before. Much of the footage was shown in slow motion, and my impressionable brain was treated to cars flying, roofs sailing, and debris slicing through habitats. I had a bad nightmare that night, the first of hundreds of immensely terrifying tornado nightmares that have persisted to this day. I don't need to join a storm-chasing team to see these midwestern monsters - I just pillow my head and close my eyes for the night.

It's weird. When we lived in Dallas, I was rarely concerned about taking a direct hit from a tornado. Must have been the unfounded assumption that there was added protection from all the houses that surrounded us. Now that we live in the country and have open spaces around us, I suddenly feel more vulnerable...as though the chance of a direct hit has suddenly escalated. Of course, this is silly...we were just as likely to be sliced and diced there as we are here...but the perception remains.

So, I hope I never have to take one of my grandchildren to the back fence, point to the sky, and repeat my mom's words. But I do hope the end result will be the same.

Under Siege

Here's an undate from Camp Under-the-Weather.

Little 1 yr. old grand-daughter Macie had diarrhea on Wednesday and Thursday and was not interested in taking fluids so she had a trip to the ER yesterday for an IV. She is better and slept OK last night.

Macie's dad, Blake, was supposed to drive a big Dallas Christian bus to Abilene yesterday, but he caught the bug too, and spent yesterday morning barfing instead of driving. He is better today and is in charge of Macie at their home.

Poor Carole had dealt with Macie's problems all day Wednesday, then could not sleep during all the storms Wednesday night. So she sleepily took care of Macie through noon yesterday. Well, at midnight last night, she caught the bug and spent the night chunking her cookies. I cancelled out driving the bus this morning to take care of Maddie (she's still healthy, thank goodness) and Carole.

I'm feeling good - the antibiotics and iron have really helped.

Please say a quick prayer for our family. We need the sick ones to continue to improve and the healthy ones to stay that way.

Go Stars, Mavs, and Rangers! They all won last night. How rare is that? Hope they stay healthy.

Superlatives

Best invention ever: the DVR (or TiVo) depending on your provider

Best delicious treat that's good for you: (can't think of one)

Best delicious treat that's bad for you: (tie) lemonade pie and chocolate peanut-butter fudge

Best car I've ever driven: my wife's 2004 Honda Accord

Best preacher I've ever heard: this is a tough one because I've lived long enough to hear many magnificent ones, but I opt for Jimmy Allen

Best holiday: Memorial Day, because summer is not far behind...and that means a lot to anyone in the education business

Best-looking jet: MD-11

Best Bible verse: II Cor. 4:17

Best flower: vinca (only one I've had success with on a grand scale)

Best state: Vermont

Best small town in Texas: Fredericksburg

Best Kellogg cereal: Raisin Bran

Best President ever: Ronald Reagan

Best sitcom ever: The Mary Tyler Moore Show

Best summer sound: Rain on the roof

Best time of day: Sunrise

Best thing I ever did for myself other than marry Carole: Lasik

Reporting in...

The doc said my strep was back...in fact, it never went away. And that I was a bit anemic. So I've been put on a stronger antibiotic plus multivitamins with iron.

I took today off after sleeping nearly 12 hours last night. I hate missing work. I have it in my mind that somehow the job won't be done just the way I do it when I'm not there. I'll try to drive again tomorrow and keep the students from thinking I'm a malingerer.

Officially Sick of This...

Four weeks ago, amidst a 14-hour field trip, I contracted strep throat. Since then, I've made marginal, flimsy attempts to rejoin the world of the healthy, but the efforts have been half-hearted. I couldn't really pronounce myself well since I could still hear a rattling in my lungs when I coughed, something left over from associating with my wife when she had pneumonia a couple of weeks ago.

Now here I am in San Antonio, not for the Final Four, but to finally spend some time with our elder son and his family. The weather today is as close to perfection as God allows us mortals. No wind, clear skies, low humidity, and high temps in the 70's. And I sit here feeling like someone has whipped my body with an ugly stick.

I'm able to function...I'm not skipping any of today's activities (Zach's soccer game, Ethan's birthday party, and a quick photography assignment at the San Antonio airport), but it is a crime to be feeling yucky on a day such as this.

Monday, I'll again return to the doctor and see what can be done for slow healers such as I.