Friday, March 31, 2006

Reason why the world is going to shit #34

An Irishman in a wheelchair entered a restaurant one afternoon and asked the waitress for a cup of coffee. The Irishman looked across the restaurant and asked, "Is that Jesus sitting over there?" The waitress nodded "yes," so the Irishman told her to give Jesus a cup of coffee on him.

The next patron to come in was an Englishman with a hunched back. He shuffled over to a booth, painfully sat down, and asked the Waitress for a cup of hot tea. He also glanced across the restaurant and asked, "Is that Jesus over there?" The waitress nodded, so the Englishman saidto give Jesus a cup of hot tea, "My treat."

The third patron to come into the restaurant was a Redneck on crutches. He hobbled over to a booth, sat down and hollered, "Hey there, sweet thang. How's about gettin' me a cold glass of Coke!!" He, too, looked across the restaurant and asked, "Is that God's boy over there?" The waitress once more nodded, so the Redneck said to give Jesus a cold glass of Coke, "On my tab."

As Jesus got up to leave, he passed by the Irishman, touched him and said, "For your kindness, you are healed."

The Irishman felt the strength come back into his legs, got up, and danced a jig out the door.

Jesus also passed by the Englishman, touched him and said, "For your kindness, you are healed."

The Englishman felt his back straightening up, and he raised his hands, praised the Lord and did a series of back flips out the door.


Then Jesus walked towards the Redneck. The Redneck jumped up and yelled, "Don't touch me...I'm drawin' disability."

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

So you had a bad day.....

Getting a wrath of crap from someone due to someone else’s mistake, if not blatant lack of responsibility makes me laugh hysterically. I try my best not to get upset in a situation like this as any wrongdoing is at best third party to me. More often than not, a simple civil explanation is enough to disarm the situation, but, every now and again, the person is determined to aggravate the situation.

I assume he will think twice the next time he feels like pushing someone around, even it it’s only verbally.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Food for thought

The government recently calculated the cost of raising a child from
birth to 18 and came up with $160,140.00 for a middle income family.
Talk about sticker shock! That doesn't even touch college tuition.

But $160,140 isn't so bad if you break it down. It translates into
$8,896 a year, $741.38 a month, or $171.08 a week. That's a mere
$24.24 a day! Just over a dollar an hour.

Still, you might think the best financial advice says don't have
children if you want to be "rich." It is just the opposite.

What do your get for your $160,140?

Naming rights, --- First, middle, and last!

Glimpses of God everyday.

Giggles under the covers every night.

More love than your heart can hold.

Butterfly kisses and Velcro hugs.

Endless wonder over rocks, ants, clouds, and warm cookies.

A hand to hold, usually covered with jam.

A partner for blowing bubbles, flying kites, building sand castles,
and skipping down the sidewalk in the pouring rain.

Someone to laugh yourself silly with no matter what the boss said or
how your stocks performed that day.

For $160,140, you never have to grow up.

You get to finger-paint, carve pumpkins, play hide-and-seek, catch
lightning bugs, and never stop believing in magic.

You have an excuse to keep reading the Adventures of Piglet and Pooh,
watching Saturday morning cartoons, going to Disney Land, and wishing
on stars.

You get to frame rainbows, hearts, and flowers under refrigerator
magnets and collect spray painted noodle art, hand prints set in clay
for Mother’s Day, and cards with backward letters for Father's Day.

For $160,140, there is no greater bang for your buck.


You get to be a hero just for retrieving a Frisbee off the garage
roof, taking the training wheels off the bike, removing a splinter,
filling a wading pool, coaxing a wad of gum out of bangs, and coaching
a baseball team that never wins but always gets treated to ice cream
regardless.

You get a front row seat to history to witness the first step, first
word, first bra, first date, and first time behind the wheel. You get
to be immortal.


You get another branch added to your family tree, and if you're lucky,
a long list of limbs in your obituary called grandchildren.

You get an education in psychology, nursing, criminal justice,
communications, and human sexuality that no college can match.

In the eyes of a child, you rank right up there with God.

You have all the power to heal a booboo, scare away the monsters under
the bed, patch a broken heart, police a slumber party, ground them
for ever, and love them without limits, so one day they will, like you,
love without counting the cost.

ENJOY YOUR KIDS AND GRANDKIDS AND YOUR NIECES AND NEPHEWS!!!!!!

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Hey, I'm back... I think...

Some times I wish the average, lay individual knew how much work is involved in the pre-season of any organized sport, especially one completely governed and commissioned solely by volunteers. Many years ago, our league had adopted the Robert’s Rules of Order to keep things in check. The systems spelled out details that work extremely well and can be found in place within many organizations. The only unfortunate part is the ultimate swear word of today, volunteerism. Few people of today are willing to spend their precious time managing, or even helping without getting monetarily reimbursed. It’s a shame, considering the equipment manager and I just spent 2 hours going through 12 team equipment bags on a Sunday morning, 7 of them that are in the back of my truck as I type. But that’s just a rant like beating on a dead horse, so I’ll get to my point.

This evening, during a series of calls to coaches, I had a conversation with a young boy I will not soon forget, for I was laughing for several minutes after hanging up. The coach I had called was someone I knew well from years past. Although we went to high school together, graduated in the same class and neighbored one another for a few years, I do not know his kids, other than to see them. Keep that in mind. So, I make the call:

Kid: Hello.

Me: Hi, is Scott there?

Kid: Scott.?.

Me: Your dad, is your dad there?

Kid: Oh, he’s in the bathroom. Can he call you back?

Me: Is your mom there?

Kid: No, she’s working. I’ll tell my dad to call you back.

Me: Do you know who this is?

Kid: No.

Me: Well then, who are you going to tell your dad to call back?

Kid: You.

Me: Who am I?

Kid: I don’t know. I’ll just tell him to call you back.

Me: Well, who are you going to tell your dad to call?

Kid: You.

Me: Do you know who this is?

Kid: No.

Me: Well then, who are you going to tell him to call?

Kid: You.

Me: Well, if you don’t know who this is, who are you going to tell your dad to call?

Kid: You.

Me: Ok, what is your name?

Kid: Ryan.

Me: Ok Ryan, can you tell your dad to call Jeff.

Kid: Ok.

Me: What’s my name again?

Kid: You,….. I mean Jeff.

Me: Thanks buddy.

Kid: Ok, bye.

Scott was present for our work party down at the fields yesterday so I assumed the name of his commissioner would be fresh in his mind. As it turns out, it was and he called back. And, as it turns out, it’s just another team I have to pick up for a while. Scott is doing his part, as assistant coach, but it looks like it’s just another team I have to take on for a while. It’s no big deal, I’m used to not having a life.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Signing out for a while

I once saw a commercial with a husband and wife speaking to each other about how busy they were. If I recall correctly, they were busy juggling kids around from one sporting event to another. The wife said to her husband, “What did we used to do before we had kids?”, the husband replies “sleep”. The wife, shocked at her husbands honest answer simple said “oh yea…”. This commercial runs in my mind often because it very closely describes my life as of late. Somewhere between Tee-ball, Baseball, Commissioner, Coach, Chairman, Dad, Foreman, Project Manager and husband, I have lost myself. All these glorious titles mean little to me, but I fulfill interest with everything I am. Nothing is left for me, but I press on without need. I fully understand that my position is not permanent. Someday I will once again live my life for me.

Yesterday, while down at the ball field dialing in my pitching for the upcoming season, I was reminded why I do what I do. I was on the field closest to the local playground in the complex when out from the playground came running a little girl. I recognized her immediately. It was Kya, a now 5 year old that was on one of my teams last year, Tee-ball team. I recall her as being the worst on the team. Given her age and lack of parenting, it was very difficult to get though to her. She played with the grass more than the ball. Out of all the kids I coached last season, she was the one that I would pick as the least affected.

Running at full speed, her little legs finally made their way to the backstop. She looked at me with a smile so big her face almost disappeared and said “HI COACH. WHAT CHA DOIN?” I told her that I was practicing for the upcoming season and asked if she was playing this year. I knew that she was not but asked non-the less. She said to me “na, my mom said I couldn’t sign up”. We chatted briefly about how school was for her. Vaguely, I heard her father calling her name from within the playground. I yelled for him at and waved my arms to gain his attention. Once he seen his daughter with me, on the field, he gave me a thumbs up and went to attend this other children.

Kya and I spent another few moments talking about stuff, and then I escorted her back to the playground. Walking away I heard her tell her father over and over again “I saw my coach, I talked to my coach”.

I have strayed from the point a little here, so let me wrap it up. Things are a little busy around here and I need to remove something from my life for a while. I have narrowed it down to either blogging or wiping my ass. I tossed these two around for a long time and ultimately chose my personal hygiene to be just a little more important then blogging.

Once our season starts, I plan to post after and about every game we play. I feel that I need to let blogsphere know what not I, but we, as a union of volunteers, can do for our community and tomorrow’s leaders. Until then…. Have fun.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Saturday night at the 80’s

For the first day in what must be months, my son and I spent the day outside. The weather today was just gorgeous. “It’s nice out, I think I’ll leave it out.” The little guy had his 4-wheeler out for a while. While he was setting up for another pass up the hill, I noticed some missing hardware from the back wheel. I immediately stopped him to investigate. One cotter key, one washer and one nut were missing. During his pit stop, in traditional faction, he shifted his attention to another activity and wanted nothing to do with going for parts. I guess I’ll have to fix it another day.

Another roller skating party was on today’s menu as well. Although we have been skating on a weekly basis for a month or two now, this time was different. The party was for the Saturday evening 6-9 PM session. This time was different all right, in Twilight Zone form, I was sent back in time to when I was a teenager. Standing in line outside, I briefly looked around. To my right I seen three girls huddled together talking to each other. A few seconds later, I look back at them to find them turned around facing us. The one on the far left looked exactly like an old girlfriend of mine I used to skate with as a teenager. For a second or two I slipped into the almost coma like state, staring at her. I wanted to walk up to her, just to say hello. Just then, as quickly I had been removed, reality sank in and I realized that this was 2006. If anything, this girl may be the daughter of my former girlfriend. Thought the event put me into bummer mode, realizing how fast life has gone by, we ended up having a great time.

Boo is getting better on the rink. He’s now keeping up with most of the crowd. He’s starting to get more and more daring, and this leads to more falling, but he recovers quickly and moves on. His pride is no longer damaged by falling as it once was. Boo has requested to go again tomorrow. If I can make that happen, I will try to bring along the brats, Sport. If not, next weekend will be their time.

This year’s baseball season is growing ever closer. Our fundraisers have been in full swing now for some time. In our league, just as much time is spent planning, as is spent playing so my time blogging is limited. I hope to post a little piece of every game this year, so look for some interesting stuff to come.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

A definition of hatred

I was home sick today. Usually I choose to work while I’m sick, driving off my philosophy that I could either sit at home and suffer, or get paid to make others suffer as well. I guess I just needed a day to myself.

Watching a bit of the news reminded me of a post I wrote (and apparently deleted) some time ago. One young and beautiful young lady had yelled at me for deleting said post after I, as I chose to call it, cleaned house. So in the spirit of making wrongs into rights, here goes.

There is something in society today that I just don’t get. Molesting a child. Be it boy or girl, man or women, the concept of this escapes me. Maybe it’s because I have children, or maybe it’s because my brain is wired differently. Whatever the case may be, I have real issues with the idea of someone that actually be ‘turned on’ by a child. The word hatred is a very heavy word, but I employ it for this situation.

My son is now seven years old. Although he is doing well within his phase of wanting to be completely independent, he cannot be trusted to wash himself completely in the shower that he loves. At least once a week I give him a good ol’ bath to insure he is not becoming a stink-box. When I wash him from head to toe, I only see a kid, with or without cloths, just a kid.

My daughter will be twelve shortly. She is, Um, well, developing rather quickly. One of our favorite activities is playing the card game UNO. Traditionally, we lie on the living room floor with cards in hand. This position usually draws the dog into the game. As we lie there on the floor, I see a kid, nothing more. A child that needs love and care, not unlike a child that is only three or four.

What is it that makes people wreck a kid’s life by forcing some sort of sexual action on them? Why would someone even think of such a horrendous action? I know all our brains are wired differently, but what the hell, especially if you are the parent of the child, or even a parent of another. As a parent, our job is to positively effect children to make their lives, and the community, better. Children are our future and tuning them into some sore of tool for your own gain and happiness is the epitome of my hate towards you.

Sorry for the rant…

I think I need some more Theraflu.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

I only have a minute to post....

Today was a buys day. Shortly after the sermon at church today, in accordance with Methodist Bullsh&& (I mean Church Discipline), we had a meeting to approve the withdrawing of moneys from the endowment fund to replace the church roof. Chairing this meeting meant I would be late for the basket bingo for the baseball league. As it turned out, I was just fashionably late.

Once I arrived at the local Fraternal Order of Eagles, the usual spot for our functions, serving food was on my menu. I’m not sure if I smell more like hot dogs or french fries, but I spent 3 or more hours behind the bar. It looks like we make a good three grand or so from this function. I’ll have the final tally done by midweek.

Without transition, we are putting the final touches on our Chinese Auction and Chicken Bar-b-Q. (yea, here in PA it’s Bar-B-Q) We hope to have things a little better planed than last year. My gas grill will thank me for this.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Having a little fun

Not everyone knows how to have a good time these days. In the interests of helping other people find the answer, I offer a recipe.

Mattandriver’s Good Time Recipe.



7 or more fun kids.

56 wheels

14 boots

1 very hard wooden floor

Some Pizza and Soda (beer may be optional in some cases)

And on 7Th birthday

Throw all these ingredients into your day and TADA… One roller skating birthday party for the kids. Both Roller and Ice Skating were good times when I was young. Eventually, I ended up very good at both. I spent many of hours on the rinks when I was young. Now that I have children in my life, I am regaining some youth. It feels very good to have such a sober and truly fun filled afternoon.

Pictures of our day are bellow.

The birthday boy is quiet cool. He’s getting better on those skates too.


If you only knew about his evil side, he might not look so cute.


Matt, can you possibility not act like that in public. Please…


Finally the food arrives.


Little does he know, the pizza sucks here.


“Give me the presents baby!” This is what Birthdays are truly about.


My daughter is VERY good on skates and she keeps me on my toes. FINALLY she fell down, and I got a picture of it!!! LOVE IT!!!


Sadie found a new friend today. These two were stuck together all day.


Here we have the crew. Two kids are missing from the picture. I just couldn’t slow the two boys down enough. Matt will see them on Monday in school.


My niece is looking everywhere for her teeth.


You can blame my brother-in-law for this mug shot. He bet me a dollar I wouldn’t post it. You owe me Scott!

Friday, March 03, 2006

complete

For what I believe to be only the second time in the history of this blog, I am going to write about something serious. Not that I don’t take my family and friends seriously, I do. This is a different kind of serious, a social concern that affects everyone eventually kind of serious: A little story about societies acceptance or resistance of merciful killing.

Here is my issue. Why is it socially admissible to “put an animal down”, yet it is considered immoral to end a human’s suffering?

Now before you run off on a rant, or criticize me for sounding numb, or close the web browser out of discontent, I ask you, even dare you to read on. Sometimes when we look at things from a slightly different point of view, things get a little clearer. I have two scenarios to run through. Then, after reading it all, I am open to any and all criticism, blame or review. Throw me to the dogs if that’s your will, but only after taking it all in.

Ok, scenario one (hypothetical of course).

I have a dog. His name is Max. He is a 14-year-old Black Lab who, for the first 9 years of his life, was the best damn bird dog ever. He lives in the house, sleeping at the foot of our bed every night. He’s also my best friend in a way that only a fellow pet owner can understand.

Max and I stopped hunting together at the age of 9 because he started having trouble with his legs. At first it seemed to be no big deal, but the problem persisted so we took him to the vet. He was diagnosed with arthritis. Although he had obvious signs of pain while moving around, we treated him with a daily aspirin and life went on.

By age 10, things got progressively worse. He could no longer get up the steps to the bedroom, so he started sleeping downstairs in the living room. Some times he would cry for us, so I would go be with him until he fell asleep. I just loved that dog and hated to see him suffer like that. It broke my heart.

By age 12, he was diagnosed with colon cancer. The surgery to remove his tumor left him with a bag attached to him. Although changing this bag 3 times a day was a bit of a mess, we loved him so much that we didn’t want to live without him. After some adjustment here at home, and some at work, we again went on with our lives and everyone seems happy.

Today Max is completely unable to walk on his own for more than five or ten feet. His pain is surely unbearable so we have him on pain medicine. He is totally deaf, almost completely blind, and needs help to eat. About 3 months ago we started chopping his food up, mixing it with water and feeding him via a tube. Someone is with him every waking moment and I’m quite sure he’ll be dead within the next few days.

So now that you’ve read the first scenario, what do you think of me? Most people would say things like “You bastard, why are you making that poor dog suffer for so long” and “stop being so selfish about needing him around. You’re making that poor dog live a horrible life for your own reasons”. “Have you no mercy?”

Ok, scenario two. (again hypothetical)

My Grandmother was 72 when she had her first heart attack. She had trouble with arthritis in her hips for years prior to the ten days she spent in the hospital bed proved too much to overcome. Although a physical therapist worked with her on a daily basis, she would never again walk for more than 20 feet or so.

About a year later, she would suffer another heart attack. Although the damage to her heart was not as severe as the first, her physically dysfunctional state would become worse. Thankfully, her recovery was relatively painless and her hard work at the physical therapist proved worth it as she finally made it upright again. She could only walk for a few feet, but this was enough to regain some dignity as she could now make it to the bathroom without help.

At age 74 she was diagnosed with colon cancer. The surgery to remove her tumors left her with a colostomy bag. The mental image this left her with was a horrible. Only a very select few were ever even aloud to talk about the bag, let alone see it. I believe it was at this point when she felt she was done.

Unfortunately, she would remain in this form for about a year. Totally lucid, sharp as a whip, she watched her body decay before her. Every day she hoped it was her last. One day before she died her lucidity became too much to bear. For hours she ranted on about how she could see Jesus before her. She so wanted to go with him, but it was not yet her time.

She once asked me to help her end the pain. She wanted to end this life of misery and hurt. I could not comply with her wishes for obvious reasons. It was truly then when she gave up. She laid in that bed for months. The sores on her body were indescribable. I could not bring myself to comply with her wishes.

A few weeks later, as things got progressively worse for her, she asked me again to help her end her life. As she lay there in her pathetic yet sane state, she begged me. I had to do it. I felt so horrible inside, but yet I know it was not only for the best for her, but what she truly wanted.

So now what to you think of me? I hear thinks like “you are a killer”, “you bastard”, “how could you kill your own kin?”.

Well I ask you this. Why am I viewed as a heartless person for not killing my dog out of mercy, but yet I am viewed as yet again a heartless person for ending my Grandmothers pain? What is the difference? I believe in god! I am deeply evolved in the Methodist church! I know all about sin! Please tell me why society (not the church) has made this happen. Again, don’t pull the church card on me. Hell, we can’t even say the word GOD in some schools anymore, do it’s not applicable. Tell me why we, as a society, as a country, as a nation, as an entity in this world have come to make this distinction.

Note 1: I have not typed this long in one sitting since collage…
Note 2: …..


Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Happy Birthday

Can everyone please say Happy 7Th Birthday to the boo.
You're growing up fast Matthew, slow down a little will ya?