January, 2009

Thought for the Day — No Comments
30
Jan 09

Lonely Days, Lonely Nights…Where Would I Be With My Facebook?

John Ortberg in his book, Everybody’s Normal Till You Get To Know Them, writes of The All Better Book, in which elementary school children are asked some of the world’s biggest problems. One question posed:

 

 

“With billions of people in the world, someone should be able to figure out a system where no one is lonely. What do you suggest?”

Some responses…

“Make food that talks to you when you eat. For instance, it would say, “How are you doing?” and “What happened to you today?”  Max, age 9009

 

 

“We could get people a pet or a husband or a wife and take them places.” Matt, age 8

 

 

But the one response that touched Ortberg – and the one I haven’t been able to forget…

 

“Sing a song. Stomp your feet. Read a book. (Sometimes I think no one loves me, so I do one of these.)”     Brian, age 8

 

 

Connecting and belonging. We all want to know that someone cares if we got out of bed this morning.

 

Loneliness is a slow painful death of a soul. We were created for community. What else can explain the recent rise of interpersonal communication?

Texting, e-mails and even Facebook.

 

 

Today connect first with your God, then family, friends, then reach out and touch a stranger.

 

 

“It is not good for man to be alone…”  Gen. 2:18.

 

Your smile or kind word may not change the world, but it might change someone’s world — for the better.

 

Check out my Jan. 29 column on my Facebook experience.

 

For another column based on John Ortberg look in October 2007 archive

 

Columns / Life in Madison — No Comments
29
Jan 09

“Then I Saw Your Face(book); Now I’m a Believer.”

020          “Do I look old?”

Planning to venture into today’s media world, I remembered a high school friend, vivacious, fun-loving Mary Gardner. Television, radio, author; she’s a mass communication maven.  Wanting to tap her vast knowledge, we sat down for coffee. A lot has changed about communicating since I’ve been in the business world, but now there is one undeniable common denominator. The Internet. I needed help wading into the vast waters of the Net without becoming tangled. As Mary talked, I took notes, sighed and scratched my head. Web sites, blogs, LinkedIn, EzineArticles, Twitter, change my bio. Did I even have a bio?

“And of course, “Facebook,” Mary mentioned, almost as an afterthought. At this point, my head was spinning and when my head spins I tend to say really stupid things, such as, “Facebook. I hear lots about it, but won’t there be something else in six months?”

            Mary stared. “You’re not on Facebook?” No, I whispered, suddenly feeling very, very – I don’t know like a dog taking the most pleasant nap in the sunshine — on his master’s $11,000 Chippendale chair. A very happy hound was he, until his master came through the door cloaked by super-stealth capabilities. Busted; the master staring down upon his beloved dog with such disappointment. Mary had that look. “Jamie, if you’re not on Facebook, people will think you are old?” Think that I’m old? This was bad.

 For to be thought old is much worse than to be called old. If someone calls you old to your face, either they are jesting, a cranky sort or believe you are merely acting old and can surely snap out of it. But to be silently considered old; the thinker believes you are beyond the reaches of Botox, boot camp workouts and biofeedback.

             I procrastinated. Well, I started working on some of her suggestions. A Web site, a blog, tried to Twitter. It was just the Facebook thing.

            Then a friend’s email invited me to join. Now to turn down an invitation would be rude, and though I might be thought old, it would be far worse to be thought rude. So I signed on with the Facebook Nation.

 WOW. How long has this party been going on? Within 24 hours, I’d become “friends” with long lost elementary school chums, sorority sisters, missionary friends in Africa, the girl (now woman) who braved cheerleading tryouts by my side and dragged me on my first head-over-heels steel roller coaster; along with the 14 year-old daughter of my dearest college friend.

 Who said you can’t teach a slightly-aging dog new tricks? Am I old? Just look at my face…book. (That was just a rhetorical question, not to prompt any posts on such.)

 

 

 

Checkout Mary’s Web site; http://marygardner.com/

Thought for the Day — 1 Comment
29
Jan 09

Thought for the Day — NO BONKING!

The ammo.

The ammo.

Raised in Central Florida, before houses, strip malls and theme parks littered the landscape, I remember there were lots and lots of orange groves.

And from such a plethora of oranges lying around rotting on the ground, there developed a tradition called “bonking,” or throwing oranges at cars.

Today from the Ocala Star-Banner –

“Two boys, ages 15 and 17, were charged with throwing deadly missiles, a felony, after they reportedly threw oranges at a sheriff’s deputies stopped patrol car.

Deputies said the younger teen told them they were bored and decided to gather oranges from the woods so they could throw them at cars. He said the patrol car was the only vehicle at which they’d thrown oranges.”

Hmm.

At about 10:23 p.m. Tuesday, sheriff’s Sgt. Brian Dotten was driving his patrol vehicle in the 12600 block of Southeast 84th Avenue when he noticed several oranges in the road. After he got out of the car, the passenger side was struck by several oranges.

Okay –

Prov.  13:20  Become wise by walking with the wise;
   hang out with fools and watch your life fall to pieces.

I hope all turns out good for those young misguided boys, but remember so much in life turns on the company we keep.  Even as adults  if not careful, we might find ourselves and bored and before we know it …we’ve picked up an orange.

So today think about the companions you keep. And if one of your friends suggests you pick up an orange, how about asking them to join you in a glass of orange juice.

Much better for everyone all the way around.

Everyday Heroes — 1 Comment
28
Jan 09

Everyday Hero: Rick Spence

     
Way to go, Rick!

Way to go, Rick!

Meet Rick Spence. Rick is responsible for my spectacular entry into the world of triathlons. He and his wife, Karen, have become very good friends of ours with all the swimming, biking and running we have done together. Some folks’ motto is “My house…your house.” Rick’s is “My pool…your pool.” That is why we all were shocked in October 2007 to learn that Rick was battling brain cancer. For the next nine months Rick fought this horrible foe. But praises to God, Rick was pronounced cancer free in summer 2008.

            Let a small thing like a brain tumor sideline an Ironman Triathlete? Well, to pick on a guy who for fun competes in races by swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112 miles and then finishes by running a marathon – cancer picked the wrong dude.

            As the following column mentions, Rick and his wife completed the 2009 WDW Marathon and a Half Goofy Challenge this January. The Goofy Challenge requires running the half marathon (13.1 miles) on Saturday, then running the full marathon (26.2 miles) the next day. Goofy, maybe? Amazing, absolutely! Cheers to you Rick. Keep us posted on your racing challenge.

 

For more about Rick’s amazing story read my September 2008 column.

 

Columns / Running — 1 Comment
22
Jan 09

“The First 10 Miles Were a Party, Then I Ate a Banana…”

         Seated on the asphalt after running 26.2 miles in the Disney World marathon, I looked for the steamroller that squeegee-d my body. The tips of my toes to the tips of my eyelashes throbbed.     

     Also at the finish, four Madison friends, Karen and Rick Spence, Chanin and Rebecca Gill, wore Goofy medals. They ran the marathon plus the half marathon – 39.3 miles in two days. They stood. I sat (very happily).

It took all my remaining strength to lift Mickey.

It took all my remaining strength to lift Mickey.

          

            The first ten miles were a party. Over 21,000 runners formed a river; the current carried us. At the water stations, we rubbed Biofreeze on sore spots. Biofreeze looked and smelled a lot like Bengay, but I guess Biofreeze sounds less…geriatric. But starting about mile 19, I felt beyond ancient.

 

 Mile 20, I ate a banana. Oddest thing. I chewed it up like normal, yet once in my stomach, the fruit affixed back to together and multiplied. My stomach became a banana.

 

For nourishment at mile 23, they doled out miniature Hersey’s chocolates. Unbelievably, I felt no desire. The ground was littered with unopened, trampled chocolates. Glancing down upon one brutally smooshed Special Dark, I felt a twinge of regret. Then a tidal wave of banana washed up and with the next step, I ruthlessly smashed a helpless Nestlé’s Crunch.

 

            Needing another runner to spur me on, I noticed three women (probably 60ish) in powder blue fairy outfits. They became my target, as I was borderline delusional and unable to focus on anyone else. I passed them, they passed me and I passed them again — leaving those pixies in their blue fairy dust.

 

            Many runners cry at the finish. For me, it was a 2-inch rise going into Epcot at mile 25. My body screamed, “NO!” Tears were eminent. Deciding my emotional collapse could frighten dozens of innocent spectators, I shut down the waterworks.

 

            What happens when you attempt to stifle heaving sobs after running 25 miles? Violent hyperventilation; my body forgot how to perform a basic involuntary bodily function – like breathing. Good times.

 

Thankfully I recovered but with 400 yards to go, the fairies caught me. Yes, those darn platinum-haired, powder blue sprites with their damnable silver wings powered ahead. Rats.

 

What lies down the road?

What lies down the road?

 With a few more strides, it was over. A volunteer hung a Mickey medal around my neck. I kissed my beautiful, patiently waiting husband and sat down. Finished.

 

Later at poolside, the pain eased with a cold beverage, soak in the hot tub and two Motrin bummed off a kind stranger who conveniently carried a rather large pharmacy in her purse.

I wouldn’t have dreamed of signing up for a marathon five years ago, much less completing one. Beaten up as I felt — was it worth it? Could this be the end? Not hardly. Looking back, crossing the finish line only heralded a wonderful beginning. What great adventure lies down the next road?

 

 

Chanin Gill, Karen and Rick Spence and Me (standing briefly).

Chanin Gill, Karen and Rick Spence and Me (standing briefly).

 

Look at all that hardware. Chanin and Rebecca Gill, Me (listing to the left), Rick and Karen accompanied by Rick's father, Ray, a veteran of 17 marathons. WOW. Notice he is not listing.

Look at all that hardware. Chanin and Rebecca Gill, Me (listing to the left), Rick and Karen accompanied by Rick's father, Ray, a veteran of 17 marathons. WOW. Notice he is not listing.

 

  

Columns / Life in Madison — 1 Comment
14
Jan 09

Taking Care of Business; Bailey’s Shopping Pickup & Delivery

             Sitting in a 5:15 p.m. logjam in front of the meat section at Ingles, a little boy bounded up to me. “We’re in business!” he announced.

            “That’s great.”

            Encouraged, this precious child proceeded to tell all about his “business”. In a distracted motherly way, I kidded how my boys like to “give me the business.” While we chatted, the path to the ground beef parted and winking at my new friend, I sped through the opening.

 A moment later, a young woman with enormous brown saucers for eyes approached, “Excuse me ma’am.”  As I tossed the plastic wrapped meat in my cart, she continued, “My little boy tried to explain that my husband and I are starting a business.”
 Oh. Starting a business is entirely different than a dear boy giving me the business.
            The more we talked of their new venture, Bailey’s Shopping Pickup & Delivery Service, it became clear that this was the same family whose story so moved Morgan County. Recently,
            So all of Morgan County…busy families, moms with small children, older folks with transportation issues…call the Bailey’s. Their business pickups lunches, prescriptions, fast food and dry cleaning. They can take your list and do all the shopping. Or make a run to Athens or Conyers. House-sit or babysit. They cared for our cats while we were out of town.
All in-town shopping runs (like grocery) cost $7 (plus the cost of items). Fast food and prescription pickups are made for $3.50. If you live out in the county and for trips out of town, a fee of 48 cents per mile applies. Think of escaping the frustration of shopping with young ones draped over your cart for just $7 over the bill. Hanker for your favorite salad from Tequila Express, but want to stay in your nest resting in sweats – call the Baileys.
            Now as much as I love the colorful patchwork of humankind – fewer and fewer persons truly astound me. Then I meet the Baileys. Their world turned completely upside down (10.0 on the Richter scale) and yet they stand ready to work for this community — unshaken.
It’s a mystery why the innocent suffer. A lot will never make sense this side of things. But the Bailey’s place their faith  in an unwavering force. They also have a great idea to offer, a service business staffed by hard-working folks with big hearts for others. So call 706-474-8186, 10 a.m. – 8 p.m. Monday through Saturday.
Though I will miss those shopping trips to the meat counter, I’ve found you can meet the most amazing people there.
.
            
 
Columns / Family — No Comments
8
Jan 09

“I Heard the Bells on New Year’s Day.”

             Waking up is often unpleasant especially during winter months when duty calls for you to rise long before the sun. That is probably why long ago some diligent or rather cruel individual invented one of the most necessary evils known to humankind – the alarm clock.             

Ugh!

Ugh!

            Feeling that way, I couldn’t understand my 5 year old’s fixation with a certain mechanized beast. On vacation, we gave the children money for souvenirs. Our teenager found a Falcons cap; our daughter bought a stuffed animal. Five year old Joe wanted…an alarm clock. No radio, no snooze, no fluorescent dial, just a big round face housing a mouse with rotating arms. Which was fine, I can tell time without three-inch digital numbers.

 

         The problem was the two huge silver bells perched on top and two-ton mallet nestled between. I shuttered thinking of the clangor it would resonate on cold, black January mornings. But Joe was adamant; the clock purchased. Immediately, he cradled it in his arms.

 

            Since attempting to wake Joe is as if trying to rouse a rock to life, I set the alarm for 9 a.m. deciding to proceed cautiously into this new world of the bells of St. Mary’s.  Each morning when Joe would awaken earlier on his own; he was angry as a hornet.

 

             “Why didn’t my clock wake me?”

 

 Good grief. There was no use reasoning with a 5 year old about the insanity of setting alarms on school breaks. So New Year’s Eve, I set the small wand between the seven and eight.

 

            New Year’s Day, 7:32 a.m.

 

My 2009 dawned as blonde curls and a smile a mile wide stood at my bedside with  alarm clock raised on high, “It did it! It did it! It woke me up!”

   “That’s wonderful Joe,” I smiled then rolled over praying that any possibly I had that morning for simultaneously experiencing warmth, eyes shut and a horizontal position hadn’t gone the way of 2008.  

            Ten minutes later, slowly sipping that first cup of coffee in the New Year, I couldn’t erase the image of my gleeful son. You can’t fake genuine joy.

 

            Then and there I made my New Year’s resolution; no eating chocolate after 9 a.m. Well, that is my second. My first resolution is to arrive AWAKE

Oh dear. There he is.

Oh dear. There he is.

this year. No sleeping-in (except on days of extreme nausea and feverish flu) or sleep-walking allowed. To be thrilled with living, whether the moment holds sunshine and laughter or cold wet, clouds with flat tires and not much money to repair flat tires.

        To capture that 5 year old excitement about an alarm clock’s ring — for this might be a morning mom allows chocolate cake for breakfast. After all around here, breakfast usually comes before 9 a.m.

Columns / God Found in the Everyday — No Comments
1
Jan 09

We Three Queens and Runners Are

011During these months when the sun stays tucked underneath horizon, my morning running group witnesses quite the star show during our pitch black runs. The best views are found in what we lay astronomers/road warriors call the “Planetarium” or more commonly known as Cedar Lakes and Veranda Park where the heavens spread all around us like an ebony velvet blanket.

When Stephanie, Lucy and I head into the Planetarium on cold dark mornings, we three wise runners are decked in robes of reflective nylon and carried on the backs of Brooks, Avia and Nike. Our heads wrapped in muffs and ear bands. Scanning the star show skies, some things are too phenomenal not to stop and point. Last November, we three witnessed an amazing meteor shower. Not a voluminous spray of shooting stars, rather three or four times each morning huge glowing objects glided across the heavens.   Shooting stars – but unlike any I had ever witnessed — large, glowing spectacularly slow-moving orbs.

             We stumbled upon the Taurid meteor shower. Particles of dust and debris from the trail of some comet, meteor complexes perpetually orbit the sun. Annually, the earth travelling in its orbit intersects many different meteor groups. Each fall, the earth passes through the Taurid complex known for its “fireballs.” And this fall, especially a week in November, they were quite extraordinary to see.

At the time, we running magi didn’t know what we witnessed, but we knew we had seen something magical, so unearthly and so much mightier than we three.

            Long ago viewing a star parked over Bethlehem, scientists from the east couldn’t Google their heavenly vision to see whether they observed a comet, planetary conjunction or super nova. But spurred on by the unexpected sight, they travelled for months to investigate.

            If we running wise gals happened upon a sleeping baby one morning at the earthly end to a Taurid’s fireball, we wouldn’t have much to offer the object of all the heavenly fuss. Lucy might present the babe her cell phone, Stephanie — her flashlight. The only thing I could offer (other than a used tissue) would be my gloves for those wee hands.

             Large or small any meteor’s impact changes the earth forever. Two thousand years ago, a tiny star fell from the heavens shaking the foundations of all life and matter. As tempting as it is to keep exploring the heavens for miraculous sights, a better quest is to keep searching the terrain down here for now. For if running in the dark, an epiphany — whether baby, meteor crater or occasional pothole — can be easily missed, until it is too late. Of this, I painfully know all too well.