It doesn't get any easier

Yesterday, we lost our beloved family dog to a brain tumor. A better companion, friend, sweetheart, and protector you'll never find. This morning is the first one since she fell ill and had to be hospitalized on Saturday that I definitely knew I would never let her out in the backyard again when I awoke, our daily, matutinal ritual.

She lived with me for over 13.5 years, although she was 15 years, 9 months old when she died. Her first two years were spent with my brother and ex-sister-in-law. I first met her when she was eight weeks old; I knew right away that there was something special about her. I told my brother that if they ever wanted to get rid of her, I'd take her. Two years later, she came to live with me, a bachelor at the time.

When I met my wife and she came to live with me, Princess barked at her and ran away. Soon, however, they became fast friends and soul mates, and it was that way for over 13 years. A dog will often bond especially close with one family member, and my wife was that person in our home. As you can imagine, she is devastated.

When I was a boy, a dog came to live with us who bonded with me. A number of years later, she became old and infirm and had to be put to sleep. Because I had this terrible experience under my belt, I thought I'd be somewhat inured to losing another animal, but I was wrong. It doesn't get any easier as I age, it gets harder. I am not ashamed to admit that I cried like a baby for the old girl.

Goodbye, Princess. You will not only be missed, but grieved for too.

Take care.
DAL357

San Diego, day whatever

As often happens in life, and one comes to expect the unexpected, or should, after 50 years of life on this planet, things didn't quite go as planned with the Glock 20 rental. After arriving at the place and looking for the Glock 20 they said was for rent on their website but not finding it in the case, I asked one of the guys behind the counter. He said they used to have a Glock 20 for rent, but they had trouble getting ammunition for it, so they stopped renting it. That sounded a bit bogus to me--why not just keep it on hand until more ammo showed up?-- but I took it in stride. Although they had quite a few other guns for rent, including AR15s, I wasn't really interested, so I left. That was on Monday.

On Tuesday, the family went to Legoland. If you've never been to Legoland, please don't bother. Tickets for adults were $67 each and a kid's ticket was $57. Now, the prices might have been easier to swallow IF the park had something worth seeing, but it didn't, unless you count sculptures made out of Lego parts as worth paying to view. The rides, such as they were, could only possibly appeal to children under the age of 10, and that's being generous.

Man, I feel a dull ache in my nether region.

Today, it's off to Sea World; I feel another drubbing to my wallet coming, but at least Sea World has the potential, from what I've seen, to come close to justifying its ticket price.

Take care.
DAL357

San Diego, day two

We finally got going late in the morning yesterday, after a breakfast provided by the late Ray Croc's brainchild. The funny thing is, I was hungry again about an hour later. Not too many nutrients, apparently, in that food-like substance.

Yesterday's time out was spent entirely at a botanic gardens, at my wife's "suggestion." (Isn't it funny how women cleverly call their wants "suggestions," when in all actuality they are really imperatives? That's just the darnedest phenomenon.) The botanic gardens were well planned and executed, but...a WHOLE DAY!?!? C'MON!!! Then, after sundown, the garden was lit with festive holiday lighting, strung hither and thither in various areas, and the garden consumed another chunk of our lives, 'bout two hours worth. Oh well, the wife was happy and our boy enjoyed doing things boys enjoy doing: things he shouldn't do.

After taking a wrong exit back to the motel, followed by a stop at a liquor store (wife's "suggestion"--I don't drink), we made it back to the room, ate convenience store burritos, surfed the net, disciplined the boy (for the umpteenth time that day), and finally went to bed.

On the bright side, it looks like San Diego has several indoor gun ranges which rent guns. I plan on using a fraction of my time here to check it out and, maybe, rent a Glock 20 to try. Somewhere down the road, in the hazy future, I may just get around to buying a Glock 20 10mm for camping and hiking, at least that's the justification I am using. But I've never fired the 10mm, so I'd like to try it first to see if it should even be on my wish list. I've fired a .44 Magnum before, whose recoil I didn't care for, so I'm hoping the 10mm is a notch or two below that. More on this subject as it develops.

I'd better sign off now and get everyone up, for my wife has more plans for the day.

Take care.
DAL357

Sandy Eggo

I must be getting old, 'cause I am beginnig to dislike car trips of more than one day's duration. In my younger years, I loved travelling by car on long trips, but no more. More than anything else, I guess it's the boredom. Sure, I downloaded tons of podcasts and music to my iPod Nano, but even that gets old after a few hours. (Cripe! How spoiled we modern folk are, complaining about a trip that can be measured in hours instead of weeks or months.)

We arrived in San Diego on Christmas evening and checked into our motel. As it was already dark, we couldn't see a whole lot of the city, but I doubt it's much different than most other big cities. I'm finishing this post on the morning of Dec. 26, so that assumption may change; we'll see.

It's off to the shower now, followed by, I hope, a good breakfast somewhere. Of course, that' assuming I can get the rest of the family up and out before lunch begins being served at every eatery.

Take care.
DAL357

Merry Christmas 2009

Sitting here in a Phoenix motel room,* my family sleeping soundly nearby, it occurred to me that a timely wish for any reader of this blog, such as it is, is in order. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Take care.
DAL357

*More on this later, I hope.

Dumbfounded, I tell ya

The night before last, my wife said something to me which surprised me to no end. She had to go do a favor for a friend in the evening and, due to a sudden illness with our son, I was unable to join her. So, being a concerned husband, I retrieved a holstered .38 snubby and asked her to take it. At first, she refused, not seeing the need for it, and (here's the kicker) because, "I haven't been trained on how to use it," she said. But I insisted and she finally relented and took the gun. I haven't seen her since.*

On the one hand, she was correct about not wanting to take the gun because she lacked the training with it. (This, I can assure everyone, was not due to a paucity of effort by me over the years.) But on the other hand, she has gone to the range with me, although it's been at least five years since our last trip together, so she has fired guns before. I believe what familiarity she's retained since then might come in handy should she ever have to use a firearm for self defense, but I know her level of skill is essentially non-existent.

The trick, as it's always been, is to convince her of the need to take some formal training. I believe I'll look into a gift certificate for a concealed carry course (several are taught locally). While I know that the training received at most courses is minimal, especially when it comes to fighting with a handgun, it might be the gateway drug to more inclination towards training. Who knows?

In the area of self defense, my wife is very traditional: it's the man's job to protect home and family. But stories are legion about situations where that didn't work out too well because the man was at work, the woman was away from home, the man was incapacitated, etc. Getting her to see it's okay to take responsibility for her, and our son's, safety is going to be, and has been, a challenge. Wish me luck.

Take care.
DAL357

*Just kidding.

Uncle Jim’s .38 Spl.

Decades ago, back when I was a wee lad of six, Uncle Jim, my mother’s brother, came to live with us for a few months at our rented house in Detroit. My father was in the army and stationed in Germany, so he was out of the picture for the time being and Uncle Jim was the man of the house, more or less.

To say Uncle Jim was a ne’er-do-well would pretty much be accurate. At the time he came to live with us, he was unemployed by choice, not because the economy was bad. The economy in Detroit at that time was humming and there were plenty of good-paying jobs around for those who wanted them, it’s just that Uncle Jim didn’t want them. He seemed to be happy hanging around the house, smoking cigarettes, drinking beer (more on that soon), and pontificating on the world’s problems. I think my mother and father tolerated this because he was an adult male presence while my father was away.

One night when my mother was out, Uncle Jim was tasked with babysitting my brother and me. My three-year-old brother was already in bed and I was in the kitchen talking to Uncle Jim about something, who knows what at this point, when the subject of Uncle Jim’s .38 snubby revolver came up. I asked him if I could see it--by this time, Uncle Jim was several beers into the night and his judgment was no doubt impaired--so he went and got it from his room. I had never heard a gun’s report before, so when he asked if I wanted to see it fired, I enthusiastically said, “Yes!” I clearly remember him sitting at the end of kitchen table, me on the opposite end of the table, and taking aim at the cabinet door under the sink. I also clearly remember jumping at the sound as the gun went off and stubbing my toe on the table leg. That thing was LOUD!

Looking at the cabinet door, I spied a small hole in its center. By this time Uncle Jim had put the snubby down, at least that’s how I remember it, and I walked over to the cabinet and opened it. There, just inside the cabinet, lay the lead slug. I picked it up—I think it was still warm—and gave it to Uncle Jim. * After that, my memory fails me, except I do recall that my mother was extremely mad at Uncle Jim for what he did, although at the time I couldn’t understand why.

Eventually, my mother, brother, and I joined my father in Baumholder, Germany, and left Uncle Jim and his .38 snubby behind. The snubby will reappear again in my childhood, as will Uncle Jim, but more about that some other time.

Take care.
DAL357

*I strongly suspect, although I can’t be sure, that the ammo in that snubby was topped with the old, ineffectual 158-gr. lead roundnose bullet, which likely explains why the slug stopped right after if got through the cabinet door. .38 +P rounds hadn’t been invented yet (this was in 1965), and who knows how old the ammunition was in the gun. Uncle Jim bought the gun sometime in the 1950s, I believe, and I would not be surprised if the ammo dated from the same time as when he purchased the gun, and who knows if the gun was new when he bought it.

Through the past, darkly...

A few years ago I submitted this memory of a family ordeal to another site, where it still remains posted. I guess it's about time to publish it here. Perhaps you'll find it interesting and instructive.

-----

Way back in March of 1977 I learned firsthand the awesome, frightening power of nature. Up until that time, I hadn’t really experienced anything scarier than a thunderstorm. The lessons learned that day stayed with me, and to this day I don’t play chicken with Mother Nature.

After spending a little over three years in Germany, my father had rotated back to the States. His new, and final, assignment was Fort Carson, Colorado. After arriving at JKF airport in New York City, we proceeded via taxi through New York city to New Jersey to pick up our 1975 Plymouth Duster we had shipped weeks earlier. Of course, the weeks of sitting had resulted in a dead battery--an inauspicious beginning. After getting that taken care of, we were on our way to Colorado.

The trip was routine. Living in a military family, you get used to long, often boring, car trips. My two brothers and mother did their best to adjust to hours of sitting while my father drove. Around the third day of the trip, we found ourselves nearing our destination state, Colorado. While listening to the radio, however, we heard that I-70 was closed near the Colorado/Kansas state line due to weather. Since my father had planned on getting to our destination, Fort Carson, by early evening (it was then early afternoon), he decided to turn off of I-70 and go around the roadblock. This was a decision that nearly killed our family.

Turning south from I-70 onto highway 27, we headed for what we thought was an alternate, safe route. After a short time on highway 27, the wind started picking up and small wisps of snow (called snow snakes out here) began to appear on the pavement. A few more miles brought a steady, wind-driven snow, but visibility was still acceptable. Within the space of just a few subsequent minutes, however, all hell broke loose. We were being hit broadside by a genuine Kansas blizzard that made me think 17 years was all I was going to get on this earth.

Visibility had dropped to no further than the hood of our car. To this day I don’t know how we kept from running off the two-lane highway; divine intervention must have had a hand in it. There was really no way to turn around, and sitting still wasn’t an option, so we kept creeping forward for what seemed an eternity. If you have never been in a blizzard, it is difficult to imagine the sheer terror of being disoriented, blind, and surrounded by bitter-cold wind and snow.

Finally, mercifully, we made it to a small whistle-stop of a town named Sharon Springs, Kansas, thirty miles due south of I-70. Waist-high drifts were already forming up against anything that impeded the wind-driven snow’s progress. As I recall, Sharon Springs consisted of nothing more than a few houses, a gas station, a diner, and a motel, but it looked like a heavenly oasis to me. I remember begging my father to stop in the town, fearing he might have had a notion to continue. He assured me that there was no way we were going to continue. We got a room in the motel (we actually had to dig our way IN to the room because of the drift against the door), ate in the diner, and had a fitful night’s sleep.

The next day, the storm had passed and the sun came out. Looking outside, there was very little snow on the flat-as-a-pancake Kansas fields surrounding Sharon Springs. Against buildings, however, snow was drifted all of the way to second-story roofs. The contrast was amazing! Since there was almost no snow on the roads, after one last meal in the diner, we proceeded to our destination.

What were the lessons learned here? One, when an area is closed due to weather, do not try to find an alternate route into said area. Find out more information and then go home or find a safe place to stay. Two, don’t underestimate the weather and/or overestimate your ability. Three, keep your wits about you in a bad situation; they are really the only chance you have of surviving.

I hope I have been able to convey the seriousness of respecting nature’s weather whims. Although we often like to think of ourselves as prepared for any eventuality, the best preparation is to not get into a dire circumstance in the first place. No amount of survival gear we could have carried (had we even known about survivalism then) would have saved us if we had stalled on the highway. Had we stalled, we would have been buried alive under 20 feet of snow.

Please, for your own sake, as well as the sake of your loved ones, learn a lesson from my family’s ignorance and respect the weather.

-----
Take care.
DAL357

Thankful, etc.

First, HAPPY THANKSGIVING! We all have at least a few things to be thankful for, so make sure you take stock of them and give thanks to whatever higher power you believe in, if any.

Second, a quick range report. 'Twas a day for male bonding, with my brother and one of his sons, along with this blathering blogger and his son, all spending a couple/three hours at the range. After quickly reviewing the rules for gun safety with all present, I chronographed some .38 Spl. handloads built around the first bullets I've ever casted (I'll need to do some more testing), and then we just engaged in some informal plinking.

The guns involved were a S&W 617, S&W 19, NAA mini .22 Mag., Marlin 1894 in .38/.357, and the venerable SKS. Oh, yeah, one other gun put in an appearance: my brother's Hi-Point .40 S&W. (Despite its somewhat low reputation, the Hi-Point shot quite well, having only one FTF that I know of, and hitting the target accurately. I'm not sure how much he paid for the gun, but I know he bought it used, so he must have gotten it for a relative song and dance.)

One thing I am thankful for on that outing was the sparking of my son's apparent interest/enjoyment in/of shooting; in the past, he didn't seem to have much interest in shooting, so I didn't push him. But on that day, things were different. With his eye and hearing protection on, I gave him the basics of sight alignment and trigger manipulation and then he fired a cylinder of .22 LR out of the S&W 617 (with me directly behind him) and he LOVED it! I thought he'd be done after that, but he instantly asked to shoot it some more; I gladly obliged his request. I don't want to read too much into this, but I have the feeling that come next summer I am going to have a new, dedicated shooting partner. By the way, he also fired a couple of rounds of .38 Spl. through the Marlin 1894 rifle, which he enjoyed.

After the firearms shooting was done, my brother and his son had to leave. We bade them goodbye and then my son and I headed over to the archery range. (See above photo.) With his little kid-size compound bow, Sasha's (his given name is Aleksandr, but we call him Sasha) first arrow was just outside of the bullseye at 10 yards. After that the hits were sporadic, but he kept on trying anyway. You can view an incredibly cute video (is that my bias showing?) of him here on You Tube shooting his bow.

I managed to get some practice in with my bows, and I believe I'm finally getting the hang of my new Martin Savannah long bow. Of course, whenever I'm at the range time flies faster than anywhere else in the world and this day was no exception. We reluctantly packed all of the gear away and hit the road for the forty-mile return trip. Sasha dozed off and I was left with my thoughts and impressions of the day. I was quite happy and content.

Take care.
DAL357

Watch it

Over the years, I've been continually amazed by the number of people who do not carry any type of timepiece. Often I wonder to myself, "What is the deal with these creatures? Do they not have jobs, appointments, or some other event in their lives that demands promptness? How can they possibly function in a modern society that is inextricably bound to the clock?"

I have worn a watch on my wrist since I was at least 13 years old. It's become such a part of me that I'd feel naked without it. How anyone can comfortably exist today without one on their person is a mystery I've yet to solve. Yes, I realize that there are more clocks around than ever: they are on cell phones, in cars, in malls, etc., but there are still many instances when one is not in plain view and a personal timepiece would be good to have.

Perhaps it is I who is all wet on this issue. My wife, for example, has received a couple of watches from me as gifts over the years and yet she just will not wear them. But this does not preclude her from getting to appointments on time. If I were to try that, I'd feel constantly off balance and carry just a hint of unease all the time (no pun intended).

Could it be that I'm making a big deal out of nothing? (Well, I guess that could be it, this is a blog after all.) Maybe, starting next summer, when school is out, I will try to go without a watch for a week and see if I can get used to it. I'm going to feel like an irresponsible slouch, I know, but in the interests of research, I'll try it.

My palms are already sweating just thinking about it.

Take care.
DAL357

Memorial Day

If I recall correctly, Memorial Day's original purpose was to honor those who fell in battle for America, a purpose which has since been usurped by Veteran's Day. Today, Memorial Day can be a day to honor/remember both fallen soldiers AND family and friends who have gone on ahead of us. I know that I'll be heading to the cemetary sometime today to honor my mother's memory, for she truly was a person worthy of honor and respect, and I miss her dearly. I always will.

Take care.
DAL357

Texas, and a tangent

Whew! Did we ever need that!

Our recent whirlwind tour of San Antonio and Corpus Christi, Texas, were welcome diversions to an otherwise dreary Colorado winter (I’ll be 49 this year, so EVERY winter seems dreary, not to mention longer than the last). The wife and I, along with our son, took the opportunity afforded by Spring Break (formerly known as Easter Break pre PC) and headed south for warmer weather and old friends. After the short respite from cold weather we had in the Lone Star state, I now understand why older folks move to warmer climes after retirement: because warm weather opens up so many options, an especially important consideration when you begin to realize you won’t be around forever.

One thing that dawned upon me after I returned to Colorado’s second-largest city was how much I actually missed my old pal, Gary. You know, in the area of friends, women have it much easier than men as they age. A woman can maintain lifelong friendships because all she needs to keep them going is conversation. Men, on the other hand, relate to each other by doing things together: watching/playing sports, fishing, hunting, etc. As they age and take on familial/financial responsibilities/obligations, the time just doesn’t seem to be there anymore for these friendship-enhancing activities. It doesn’t help when distance separates the parties either. A woman need only pick up the phone and call her friend in another city or state and her friendship is refreshed. When the same amount of distance stands between men, however, it’s usually the beginning of the end. Activities are difficult to plan and execute regularly at long range. Plus, after a certain age, it seems most men’s capacity for making close friends diminishes. Such is life.

Getting back to the mini-vacation, we had a wonderful time and did all of the touristy things: the San Antonio river walk, the Alamo (hey, I know it’s a shrine to Texas' independence from Mexico, but what a needless, wasteful battle), the caverns tour, the botanical gardens, and the beach in Corpus Christi.

I think one of the reasons this getaway was so nice was our loose agenda. We’ve been on vacations before that were too stacked with activities to enjoy them. Another reason was our hosts’ hospitality; they were simply wonderful. A big thanks to you both!

Take care.
DAL357

A bit of joy.

As often happens, most people tend to focus on the negative, to the exclusion of the positive, parts of life, sometimes until it is too late. Look around and you will see that the world is full of folks that take this tact on life. I, too, have often found myself in this rut so, without further delay, I am going on record to say that, all in all, my life is pretty darned good. I have a good wife who loves me and shows it, and together we have a fantastic, smart little boy who is the center of our lives. Below is a photo of him in his ballet class performing warm-up/stretching exercises.

Could my life be better? There is room for improvement, I cannot lie, but, on balance, I am happy with my family. I only hope those of you who read this can, either now or in the future, say the same.

The world is a nutty, often nonsensical place to live; always has been, always will be. If you let it get you down and to the point where you can't appreciate what you have, then you no longer run your own life, others do. If you watch and listen carefully, you'll see that it's astounding how many people are vying for the their turn at running your life. From retailers who proffer the latest fashion or gadget and say you are hopelessly out of date without one, to real estate trends that push mini-mansions as the abode to aspire to, to politicians who imply/say that you have no right to your own life as long as someone else is miserable (usually through their own poor choices), practically EVERYONE wants to push you this or that way.

To rise above this is not an easy thing to do, and too many never get the perspective to do so. Chronological maturity helps, but it is no guarantee. From my own experience, I have found that disconnecting from pop culture is a major step in the proper direction. This includes extremely selective television/movie viewing; a refusal to read most periodicals, which are little more than (sometimes not-so-) cleverly disguised pitches for their advertisers; and being more of a participant and less of a spectator in/of life.

Be all that as it may, look at the photo below and remember when life's joys were simple, encompassing, and satisfying.

Take care.
DAL357

Happy day of your birth, etc.

First things first. A big HAPPY BIRTHDAY! to my brother Donald. See, 44 ain't so bad.

Here's a link to a humorous little flash cartoon about the differences between men and women. It's cute, not too saccharine, and my kid likes it. Take a gander.
http://www.bozzetto.com/flash/fem_male.htm

Take care.
DAL357

A minor milestone

Yesterday, 5-24-07, my son finished kindergarten, his first year of formal education. He goes to a charter school and, thus far, my wife and I are pleased with the results. Not only is my boy reading at a second-grade level, he is also writing in cursive, a skill, along with reading and math, stressed at his school. Speaking strictly from personal experience (but other adults I have talked to have had similar experiences), my own kindergarten education, some forty-odd years ago, seemed to stress playing.

Of course, my wife and I put a lot of time in with our son to make sure he does his reading, writing, and math homework assignments completely and accurately. We also read to the boy regularly, both in English and in Russian. Few children, my wife and I believe, especially in the early years, have the discipline and resolve to make the extra effort it takes to excel at schoolwork, and our son is no exception, hence our active participation in his education. It's not only our obligation as parents to do this, but also our sincere pleasure.

Take care.
DAL357