Tough Day

Today has been a tough day emotionally. One of the hospice nurses stopped by the house today for a regular visit. I was busy with work and did not get to sit in like I do when I can. I was stuck on yet another monotonous conference call about how our business unit can support the larger corporate goals for 2020....blah, blah, blah. How about we try focusing on fundamentals for starters and quite trying to "innovate". Seems like every time some wet behind the ears manager gets a wild hair, we have to sit through unproductive training as they roll out another useless tool that robs our efficiency and distracts us from our core jobs. If they would quite screwing with us and just make the tools we have actually work as they are intended, it'd be a nice start. But, nnooOOOOooo, we have to innovate and play with shiny new toys because someone had a light bulb moment instead of asking whether we really needed another new turnip twaddler.

I digress.

The Queen reported the findings from the nurse visit: Oma is starting to show signs that her body is shutting down. Of course, they cannot say how long she has left; however, based on what's happening, we are looking at days to weeks as opposed to weeks to months. The Queen, understandably, has been taking it very hard.

M&M is handling things surprisingly well for an 8 year old. We've been extra attentive towards her and listening more. We also have plans in place for when things appear imminent. So, we've been thinking ahead on that front.

I've given my boss a heads up that bereavement leave is probably in the near future. She appreciated that.

Opa, while also taking things very hard, has finally moved out of denial mode. I don't think he is fully at acceptance yet, but he's making progress. So, that's healthy. I was able to have a good heart to heart with him this evening about arrangements for Oma which he has been avoiding for months now. It went better than I expected, but I had prayed for wisdom before approaching him too. So, maybe a small answered prayer went a long way too.

One small insight that came to me during the discussion with Opa was something I really don't think many people consider when they get married. Opa and Oma have been together for over 56 years now. Opa has said a couple of  times now, "What am I going to do without her?" I told him, "Genesis says the two shall become one flesh. That's more than just a physical bonding. It's emotional, mental and spiritual as well." Opa has relied on Oma for so long, I'm really not sure what's going to happen with him when she is gone.

Sorry for the Monday evening downer post. It's just helpful to write about it. Gives me a way to process what's happening so that I can focus on The Queen's and Opa's needs.

You've Never Really Lived...

...until you've vacuumed your back yard.

I know it sounds like a really messed up punishment you'd give a kid for some epic screw up, but this really happened recently.

You see, several years ago, The Queen convinced me we needed patio furniture. Pro tip to all: patio furniture should be made out of dimensional lumber. Anything else is a waste of money. Case on point to follow.

The Queen, being a serious shopper when she sets her mind to it, found a listing on Craigslist for a little out of the way shop that had a set up patio furniture for sale for a stupid low price. If you've ever priced patio furniture at a big box store, you know dropping a kilo buck is not uncommon for "decent" patio furniture. I forget the exact price, but I think it was sub $500. This is almost Guido "It Fell Off The Truck" territory, but we checked the place out and it was legit.

Any deal, one of the selling points for The Queen regarding this particular set of patio furniture was that the table had a glass top. Pro Tip Numero Dos: Never, EVER, buy a glass top patio table in North Texas (where hail storms with baseball or larger hail are a regular thing). Luckily, for me at least, this set of patio furniture managed to dodge several hail storms and even one tornado. Unfortunately, time and weather had not been kind to this set of furniture. Texas heat is brutal, rain rusts metal, things break and get lost...you get the picture.

So, after about a decade of service, we put the patio furniture aside for eventual disposal and/or repurposing.

Well, along came the dogs. Two dogs who'd never met a free range bunny in the backyard before. They really wanted to get to know Taco a lot better. Taco was less than thrilled with that idea.

So, The Queen decreed that a barrier must be erected to separate Taco and the pups. A trip to Home Depot and the parting of  $80 to$100 of my cash later, and we had a barrier. Of sorts. The dogs, managed to defeat my best efforts at fencing on a distressingly regular basis. Part of the problem was that we had to have a gate to allow access to the Taco side of the fence. This was the weakness that the dogs exploited. The Queen had a light bulb moment, and the table top from the patio furniture was pressed into service as a sliding gate supplement.

It did not end well.

Roughly 3' x 7' of shattered glass

One fine summer day, the weather turned nasty in a hurry with winds blowing storms in toot sweet. That lovely slab of glass patio table top toppled over and immediately fragmented into about a million little pieces of super sharp silicon.

Well, I needed an excuse to by a shop vac. I just never guessed it would be to vacuum the yard.

Friday Funnies - Election Day Issue

Gun Blogger Family Loses a Child

Brigid at Home on the Range sent email yesterday asking to spread the word. Brigid's email is copied below:

"The loss was expected given the deformity found in vitro but they insisted on carrying to term to give her even a little love here on earth.

Peter Grant ways it better than I. His link (with links) is below. Spread the news if you can.

http://bayourenaissanceman.blogspot.com/2014/09/a-tragedy-death-and-plea-for-help.html"

I have to give the family a lot of credit for having the courage to see the pregnancy through. That had to be a tough decision. One that I can't fathom. My thoughts and prayers are with them. Follow the links and do what you can even if it's just a moment of silence in remembrance. 

Well...Poop

Somewhere in the Dallas area, right now, a home inspector is yelling "I told you so."

When the buyer's inspection took place last week, the inspector noted a laundry list of things to take care of most of which was minor stuff like adding a rubber bushing to the holes in the circuit breaker box in the garage. One of the items he noted was to trim the trees back from the electric service drop line from the  pole to the house.

Here's the page out of his report I'm talking about.

Right under the service line next to the driveway is a line of crepe myrtle trees that I have let go unpruned because I like crepe myrtles and feel that God didn't intend for them to be hacked within an inch of their lives once a year. Also, near the pole in the side yard is an ugly tree that is tall, gnarly and in the middle of trying to die. It had a limb growing over the service drop line as well.

You can see where this is going, can't you?

Dead tree limb + service drop line = this:

+ this:

Daddy Hawk is not happy. An electrician is coming by today to let us know how bad the repair cost is going to be. I get to spend my second Father's Day working my butt off cleaning, clearing tree branches, etc. The thing that really chaps my hide the most is that the option period ended Sunday, and the buyer's realtor had said to hold off doing anything until after the option period was over. Naturally, the tree limb falls while I am at work the day after the option period ends.

I blame The Queen. She was just commenting about how smoothly the sale was going.

Tornados

If you've been watching the news or lived in the Dallas Fort Worth area, you already know that we had a major storm blow through here on Wednesday which spawned at least sixteen tornados according to the latest news reports. Since you are reading this, it's a pretty safe bet we weathered the storm without incident. I've lived in this area all my life with the exception of a brief interlude in Houston which I try to forget. I'm used to being in the unlit, dead end of "Tornado Alley".

That's not to say we were without concern.

We go through this every year here from about March until September or so. May is particularly active. If you live here long enough, you've either been IN a tornado or know someone who has. I was driving home from work once and watched as a funnel cloud formed right above my head along I-20 in Arlington. I think I've written about the time The Queen and I were having an argument in my truck which was promptly ended when the back end of the truck came off the ground...lifted by high winds which were part of a tornado's storm cell. That'll get your attention.

While Wednesday's storms dodged me and my family, there were some close calls. My inlaws live in Granbury, Texas less then 5 miles from where the EF-4 touched down killing six and destroying everything else in its way. The EF-3 that hit Cleburne, TX continued trucking south towards my mother's place before turning away. The Queen and I were holed up with Maddy at a doc-in-the-box when the sirens went off. We were in almost constant contact with my mother and inlaws the whole time. Not that we could DO anything, but it is reassuring to know that those close to you are safe at times like that.

If you don't live here, it's hard to understand the caprisiousness, arbitrariness, unpredictability and sheer violence of a tornado. Allow me to give you an example from my family's experience.

May 27, 1997 an EF-5 (the so called "finger of God") tornado hit a sleepy little town in central Texas by the name of Jarrell. My great aunt lived there and was extremely fortunate to have been away from home at the time of the storm. She was on her way home though, saw the storm and hid out under a highway overpass. When the storm passed and she was able to head towards home, it was no longer there. Literally. Gone. The slab was the only thing left. Her neighbors, a family of five, were not so fortunate. They lost their lives along with 22 others. Across the street, the houses were intact.

I have some print photos of the aftermath which don't even begin to give a sense of the level of devastation involved. Most people look at a road and think it's pretty solid, stable, unforgiving. The tornado actually scoured the asphalt off the road. Interior electrical wire was found impaling trees. Cattle were found impaled with wheat stalks and other debris.

My great aunt lost almost everything physical in her possession that day. However, a book of her mother's poetry (my great grandmother was a gifted artist and poet) was found in a field open to a page which the volunteers who were searching for survivors and victims found to be very moving. They read the poem from that page at a town meeting with the survivors, and my great aunt immediately recognized it. If I recall correctly, some small things such as cancelled checks or bank deposit slips were found as far away as Florida...presumably carried on the winds. Somethings were never found though.

I know other areas have blizzards or hurricanes which can be no less serious in terms of potential for damage and loss of life. They cannot hold a candle to tornados though. Hurricanes give plenty of warning to get out of town or prepare to hunker down. Blizzards too. You can plan for them and actually be somewhat ready for them (unless you live in New Orleans). Tornados are the hit and run drivers of the storm world. They appear suddenly and disappear just as quickly. There is very little, if any, warning. We are lucky if we get an hours notice of a storm with potential for tornados. Also, when was the last time you heard of a blizzard shredding everything in its path?

Now pardon me while I go back to work.

An Open Letter

Dear Dr. Kermit Gosnell*,

You do not know me, and I do not know you. My God warns me not to judge others lest I be judged myself; however, I your case, I would say that you had best be glad that I am not on the jury or in the same room with you. That judging others thing and the whole "vengeance is mine sayeth The Lord" thing just might have to be conveniently forgotten for a time.

Having said that, I do not write to condemn you as God will see to that far better than I ever can no matter how temporarily satisfying it may be to me. No, instead I write to thank you. I know that may come as a shock to you at this point in your legal troubles; however, it is a true and sincere thanks that I offer you nonetheless.

Why do I wish to thank you? Quite simply, you have succeeded in restoring some small measure of my humanity to me that I had thought lost forever. You see, I have been in the insurance claims business for over 17 years now, and I have seen some much injury, death and destruction that I am numb to it. I became immune to the tragedies of others. Very little, if anything, disturbs me to my core anymore.

That is, until you came to my attention. When I first read the story of your alleged crimes a week or so ago, I was not surprised that it had not made bigger headlines. Why cover the legal troubles of an abortion doctor when there is the blood of innocents to dance in in the furtherance of a gun control agenda?

Then I scanned an article too fast and saw a photo depicting the results of your "snipping" procedure. To say that I was shocked is an understatement, and I do not shock easily. I have seen charred bodies, decapitations and more in my line of work far more often that I care to admit. Those tragedies were merely the result of accident and misfortune. Your procedure, in comparison, is the work of precise, clinical intent.

And that is what disturbed me to my core.

That you could look at a perfectly formed infant (and don't you dare try to say it was nothing more than a fetus) and do what you do without a second thought is in my mind absolute purest evil far worse than anything that Jeffrey Dahmer or any other mass killer has done. Not only have you decimated an entire population of infants, you did with absolute cold hearted precision and you took payment for the service.

As a new father thanks to the miracle of adoption, my heart truly breaks for the hundreds and probably thousands of lives that you have ended. I do not understand what would lead a woman to seek out the services you and others like you provide, and it is not in my power to forgive in this lifetime. Perhaps I am not spiritually converted enough yet, but it is the truth nonetheless.

God will surely demand a reckoning from you, and I pray that I will be able to see His justice done.

In the meantime, I do thank you for showing me that there is still some humanity residing within me.

Sincerely,

Daddy Hawk

P.S. Seriously, never, ever come into my presence. Witnesses will not protect you.

P.P.S. Since the death penalty does not appear to be on the table for you, I'd ask for solitary confinement if I were you.

*For those that do not know or have not heard who Dr. Gosnell is, Goggle him at your own risk. Scan articles slowly as some contain graphic photos that can not be unseen.

No Greater Love...

Editor's Note: This post was originally published on The GunDivas.

Since Friday when in first heard about the tragedy in Aurora, CO, I have probably started this post four or five times in my head, on the iPad and the laptop. It’s a serious topic, involving real people, suffering real pain inflicted by a mad man for reasons as yet fully unknown. Obviously, I want to avoid being my normal, snarky, smart alecky self.

At first, I started out thinking that I wanted to talk about the need to examine your core beliefs and establish a personal “rules of engagement” if you will for situations like this. That idea arose from a discussion I had with a friend from church Friday afternoon. He asked the question of what I would have done. Heck, I don’t know. I wasn’t there, and I’ve never been in a situation like that before. I would like to think that I would have the faith and strength of character to put myself between the shooter and those around me and use every tool at my disposal to protect them and get them to safety. Some who were there did just that while others did not. I don’t write that as praise or condemnation. It is merely a statement of fact based on reports I’ve heard so far.

I would like to think that I am ready and willing to die trying in the process. No less a person than Jesus Christ Himself said “Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.” (John 15:13) That’s not exactly Plan A, of course. My preference would be to make the other person die trying, but that’s a discussion for another time.

I thought about getting into a discussion of gun rights versus gun control; but, honestly, that horse has been run over by the cart after dropping dead from a thorough flogging. I am a member of the gun community. I believe in the right to own and bear arms. Not much is going to change that view. Others believe differently and have little interest in what I have to say on the subject. Though, for the record, I think that gun control advocates are kinda like Ray from Ghostbusters trying to choose the form of Gozer the Destructor. Ask Rahm Emanuel and Michael Bloomberg how well they have succeeded at controlling the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.

And here I was trying to avoid snark…I apologize.

So, what DO I really want to say about Friday’s events?

Go love someone.

Anyone. Right now. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Carry a gun. Don’t carry a gun. I don’t care, but go find someone you care about or really like a lot and love on them.

Why am I saying this?

Allow me to give a little back story first. Ever since my wife, The Queen, and I got married, I have gotten up, gotten dressed and left the house for work before she even wakes up (most of the time…there are exceptions). I have always made it a point to give her a kiss as she lies there sleeping and tell her I love her before walking out the door. Anger, sad, or happy, argument or no, I did this because I wanted to make sure that, if anything happened to me, the last thing between us was an act of love.

Until recently. I have gotten out of the habit. There are lots of excuses, but the bottom line is that I have gotten away from doing what is in my heart.

And then I came within about 2 seconds of dying on the way home from work today. A fool in a large, black pickup ran a red light right in front of me. I can’t say for sure how fast he was going, but I would guess at least 40 and probably 50 or more. I believe he was accelerating. He would have hit my comparatively small Nissan Maxima square in the driver’s side had I made the intersection just a second or two earlier. Honestly, I can’t say for certain that I would have died, but I have investigated enough car accidents to know that serious injury and a trip to the hospital was the bare minimum that I would have gotten away with had he hit me at that speed.

It has shaken me to my core that I might not have made it home to my wife and foster kids this evening. Fortunately, I did get to hug and kiss The Queen and baby M&M this morning before I left. The Queen woke up early, and we shared a little three way hug before I had to go.

12 people in that theater Friday morning didn’t get to go home to their families, and at least 50 or 60 others came close to sharing their fate. Those 12 will never be able to love or be loved again (except in memory). They are beyond the cares of this world now. If it were possible to resurrect them right now, my bet is that their one wish and desire would be for more time with their loved ones.

When the dust settles, no one cares about how good or bad we are with a pistol or a rifle. No one cares how many or how few training classes we’ve taken. What they care about and remember most are the times we were there for them, when we hugged them when they needed it most, when we listened to them, shared their joy, their pain and their lives.

Go. Love. Someone. Now.

My Life is a Bad Country Country Song - Part 1 of ?

I'm sure you all have heard the joke about what happens when you play a country song backwards...you get your wife back, your truck back, your dog back, your hair.... Let that be a warning to those readers who are faint of heart or overly emotional...there be teary eyed moments to follow. I'm also going to break this up into at least two parts because 1) I don't feel like writing it all down in one sitting, 2) you probably don't need that much bad news in one sitting, and 3) did I mention I really don't feel like writing this all in one sitting? Heck, I've been avoiding thinking about parts of this much less even writing about it.  Before I go any further, I will tell you now to alleviate any concerns on your part that, though The Queen and M&M both have parts in these sad tales, both of them are more or less healthy, upright and able to take nourishment. M&M's part of the story is more or less a story unto itself. So, that will probably be part 2 (sorry Kymber).  Any story, our tales of woe begin with me traveling to Charlotte, NC for business a few weeks ago. On a Tuesday. Why is Tuesday important you ask? Well, The Queen and I are participating in a coed volleyball league on Tuesday evenings with folks from my office. It's been quite fun even though my grasp of the game is not dissimilar to a labrador retriever playing fetch. BALL! PLAY! I'LL GET IT! [slobber, drool, tongue hanging out, tail wagging]. My team mates are very kind to my handicap (the fact that i can't play) and gently suggest things like "how about you let me set for you". So, while I was busy having a networking dinner with about 150 people, The Queen was busy playing volleyball without me...and pulling her calf muscle. By all accounts, she wasn't even doing anything truly epic or graceful to warrant a pulled muscle.  Now, The Queen is a tough woman. As you will recall, this is the same woman who said "If you can keep up." when we first met. I've also watched in horror as she flipped a four wheeler over on top of herself only to run up and find her giggling maniacally. Crazy broa...love of my life. So, there I am about a thousand miles away on the phone with my wife who is crying in pain scared that she might have torn a tendon or ligament. Not unlike friend Stephen, wife tears are my kryptonite. I spent two years during the darkest days of The Queen's mystery illness being stuck in Houston due to work having to listen to my wife in Dallas suffer over the phone. It's not something I want to repeat. Ever.  Flying home was out as I had business commitments in Charlotte for the next two days including an active part in a presentation to a group of risk managers and safety directors about crazy claims that you just can't make up. Fortunately, The Queen's parents were at the house babysitting M&M while The Queen played. They stayed the night with her and helped her get to her regular doc the next day. As mentioned, it turned out to be just a badly pulled muscle. She's been on the gimp...I mean on the mend ever since. She's better than she was by far, but she still needs a week or two more before she will be dancing swan lake or playing volleyball again.  Day two in Charlotte dawned with The Queen informing me of two other minor crises. First, The Queen's carriage managed to pick up a length of wire in the right rear tire. In the sidewall no less. For those who are not mechanically inclined, tire shops won't even bother trying to fix a tire that has a puncture in the shoulder or sidewall. I've never heard a good explanation of why, but it's pretty much unanimous in my experience that they won't touch it with a 10 foot pole. Oh, and did I mention that The Queen's carriage runs on 20" tires the cheapest of which go for $150 before you add in tax, mounting, installation, disposal fee, air, road hazard insurance, etc. And, of course, they did not have the $150 tire in stock. They only had the $180 or the $220 tire in stock. That's $250 I had to spend for the safety and security of my family that I willingly but not happily spent in light of the fact that the existing tire had a lot of tread life left on it.  The other day two crisis is the heat pump at Castle Erickson. I reported on the effects of last summer's heat wave on the castle's HVAC system. Well, The Queen reported that we are in for a repeat as the system was not cooling the house. And we haven't even really gotten consistently above 90 yet much less 100. We had our regular AC guy (who is a friend and church member with my brother in law) come out a few days after I got back from Charlotte  and recharge the system which has historically at least helped the problem. 30 pounds of R22 later, we had cool air blowing...for all of two weeks. As of Wednesday of this week, there was no cold air and no frozen refrigerant lines meaning there was no refrigerant in the system. I had companies out on Thursday to bid on a replacement, and we made the decision yesterday on a 14 seer 5 ton system that will hopefully solve some if not all of our problems. At a low, low, highway robbery, they've got me over a barrel price of course. The winning bidder assures me he will give us priority since we have a baby in the house. So, hopefully by the middle of next week, we should be awash in cold air again.  Finally for part one, You've heard the saying that a friend helps you move, but real friends help you move bodies. Sometimes to body you move is that of your friend.  The Queen and I had to make the sad decision to have our oldest dog, Sasha, put to sleep. She was a lab shepherd mix who was thirteen years old. She's been suffering with degenerative arthritis for a while now. Our vet had been keeping her going with regular vitamin B injections in her acupuncture points. That would help for a while; however, we finally reached the point where she could no longer walk. She was a wonderful dog...far better to us than we ever could have been to her. I took her down to Mimi's place and buried her in the shade of a nice tree. She would have appreciated that.  More to follow.

We're Not From The Government, But We Are Here To Help

This is one of my rare link back posts of something I think everyone needs to read. There's nothing I can add other than Reagan would be proud. This is the way it ought to be handled everywhere. Go. Read. Now.

9/11 Remembered

Like a lot of folks around the country today, I’m taking this opportunity to commit to writing my thoughts and memories of THE defining, tragic event of my lifetime (so far). I wasn’t born when John F. Kennedy was shot. I was born during the Apollo program, but I have absolutely no memory of it. Perhaps my earliest newsworthy memory is watching the evacuation of the American embassy in Saigon in 1975 on a small black and white TV. I had no clue what it was all about though. I just remember thinking “Cool, there’s a helicopter on TV.” I have clear memories of both shuttle disasters.

None of those events even comes close in my mind to shock and utter disbelief that I felt after the falling of the Twin Towers. None of those events, in my opinion, had nearly the impact that 9/11 had on American society.

Tuesday, September 11, 2001, started out like any other work day for me with one exception. I rode my motorcycle to work. It’s a small detail, but it is important to some of my impressions of later in the day. I rode the bike because there were a few of us in the office that had bikes, and we all had lunch together on Tuesdays when we were in the office as Hooters offered half price wings to anyone who rode a motorcycle in for lunch.

The first plane hit early enough in the day (at least in the Central time zone where I am) that I had barely gotten to work and settled before it happened. I remember talking with one of my motorcycle friends when our director came around and gave us the news. He was on his way to set up a TV in the break room. Practically the entire office of 150 people crowded into the breakroom. We managed to get a clear picture just in time to watch the second tower get hit live.

At that moment, we all knew it was no accident. You’d have to have been a fool to think otherwise. After the initial gasps of amazement and shock, you could have heard a pin drop in that room. For a crowd of jaded insurance adjusters, that’s saying a lot. Needless to say, all work pretty much came to a screeching halt.

After spending a couple of hours watching the news coverage in the breakroom, the needs of the human body took over as groups of us took off to get food. Our motorcycle group headed for Hooters as scheduled. That may seem somewhat incongruous for the seriousness of the day, but there was a practical benefit to our choice of venue. Being a sports bar, Hooters had TVs all over the place. We chose a table right next to the main big screen which was, of course, tuned to a nes station. Whether it was CNN or Fox News, I don’t recall. We ate our wings in a slightly more subdued mood than normal and speculated about what would happen next.

During lunch, we got a call from the office that the company was shutting down for the day. It seems that the powers that be recognized that nobody anywhere was in the mood to conduct business, and they wisely turned everyone loose to do whatever they needed to do.

I made my way back to the house, turned on the TV and watched more news coverage. At some point, I don’t recall exactly what time but it was definitely in the afternoon, I heard on the news that the local blood banks were setting up at Dallas Market Hall and Will Rogers Center in Fort Worth to handle donations. No one had any idea at this point what was going to happen, how many casualties there would be, if there were going to be more attacks or what. Nevertheless, donating blood seemed like a good idea at the time.

To A LOT of people.

I made my way to Will Rogers in Fort Worth on the motorcycle, and I was absolutely floored by the number of people already there to donate blood. It was literally in the thousands. It was probably 3:00 or 4:00 by the time I got there. I know for a fact that it was after 9:00 PM before I got my turn to donate blood, and I was one of the last 50 or so people to be allowed to give blood that day at Will Rogers. I couldn’t tell you how many people were turned away from giving blood that day (since I was trudging my through the line slowly inside), but I wouldn’t be surprised if several hundred and maybe even a 1000 people were turned away in Fort Worth alone.

As I headed home on the motorcycle that night in the dark with light traffic and nothing but the sound of my motorcycle’s exhaust to keep my thoughts company, I was struck by the utter emptiness of the sky. I live in the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex. On any given night, I can walk outside and see no less than a dozen aircraft in the sky at any one time. This is a byproduct of living near the second largest airport in the U.S. in addition to a smaller regional airport, at least three decent sized general aviation airports supporting business jet activity and a major military airbase. By 9:30/10:00 that night though, there was not a single plane in the sky thanks to the FAA grounding everything.

It was eerie.

When you become accustomed to something being there all the time and then it it’s just not there, it’s downright disconcerting. For whatever reason, it was that empty sky more than anything that drove home the seriousness of the day’s events. I don’t know if I’ll ever see something like that again in my life time.

I do know this though. Even though I was not a member of the police or fire, even though I was not a member of the military, even though I didn’t lose any family or friends that day, I will never forget that day as long as I live.

Of Rights and Responsibilities

If you take a peek at the ever expanding blogroll to your right, you will find a link to a blog called "Comments For Dispatches From TJICistan". I found this blog via my normal, everyday blog stalking and reading a month or two ago and decided to follow his postings as he is quirky with a diverse body of interests similar to my own. You may have come across a news article about a blogger in Massachusetts who had his firearms license temporarily suspended after authoring a post in the wake of the Tucson shooting. TJIC is that guy.

Setting aside for the time being the issue of a state requiring a person to have a firearms license to possess firearms (we might get around to that, we might not), I want to discuss the issue that led to this person arousing the ire of the authorities. Simply put, it boils down to the right to free speech. 

Shortly after the Tucson shooting, TJIC posting something to the effect of "1 down, 534 to go" apparently in reference to the remaining members of Congress who were not involved in the Tucson shooting incident. The authorities in TJIC's neck of the woods seem to feel this is potentially a threat against our elected horse thieves, and they are investigating the "suitability" of TJIC to possess firearms.

There is now a string of "I am TJIC" posts circulating the blogosphere based on the ending of the movie Spartacus. I first came across this on one of the blogs in the blogroll which linked back to the apparent originator, Borepatch. The basic idea is that, if the rights of one blogger (right, left, liberal, conservative, non-blogger, etc., etc.) are violated, then the rights of all us have been violated. We stand together or hang separately. Etc. Etc. Borepatch and others do a much better job of stating their position themselves than I will do paraphrasing it, and it's not my intent to merely do a "me too" post.

While I do agree with the sentiment in principle, but I feel the need to temper my agreement with some thoughts on the concept of rights AND responsibilities. 

We as Americans talk a lot about rights. We seem to think every action, no matter how ridiculous, is a God given right. Much less frequently do we consider the responsibility that comes with those rights. For all the chest beating about "Congress shall make no law" or "shall not be infringed", there is a well developed line of legal thinking that says that there are certain limitations on those basic rights. For instance, the right to freedom of speech is limited in that you do not have a right to yell "fire" in a crowded theater when none exists or to incite a riot. In other words, we have a responsibility to exercise our rights with a certain level of care for the rights of others. 

Now, back to the issue at hand. Regardless of the limitations on free speech that exist, there is no limitation imposed on free speech for offensiveness of which I am aware. Just go to a Klan rally or a Rev. Jeremiah Wright sermon if you need clarification on that point. You do not have a right to be free from offensive speech any more than you have a right to life when you are drowning. TJIC made what I feel was intended as a joke. A poorly timed joke made in poor taste, but a joke nonetheless. He did not say "1 down, 534 to go and Congressman [fill in the blank] is next 'cause I'm comin' for ya." That would have been a threat. How is what TJIC wrote any different than the film made about George W. Bush being assassinated? Were the makers of the film investigated for a threat against the president? Not that I recall.

Despite the tastelessness of the joke, I can understand the sentiment behind it. There is a lot of pent up anger and frustration with our elected officials in this country right now especially in the wake of the midterm elections that showed very clearly that the American people are not happy with a large portion of Congress.  However, just like an individual has a responsibility to not yell fire, I think there is an individual responsibility for a person to exercise some level of wisdom and discretion in what he or she posts and when. 

I must get back to work now. In short, there, but for the grace of God, go I. It was a stupid, tasteless joke.  I've made more than a few myself including the one about dead hookers and live boys...in church no less. You are free to disagree with TJIC and even be offended by him, but you'd better be willing to defend TJIC's right to make a stupid joke whether you agree with it or not lest you find your own rights taken away. 

I am TJIC.

Reflections on Tucson

Given the events of last Saturday in Tucson, Arizona and all the noise in the news and blogosphere good and bad on all sides of the fence, it’s hard not to take a moment to reflect on those events and what they mean to any sane, thinking person. I think most of us would agree that no amount of reflection by insane people upon the events which have unfolded are likely to yield any useful insights. It might be amusing to hear what they have to say, though. You never know, one of those loons might hit upon something truly profound from the confines of their padded rooms and straightjackets, but I wouldn’t count on it.

The first thing that occurs to me arising from the tragedy in Tucson is, I think, self evident: despite the fact that we are supposedly living in a “civilized” society, no one is “safe” anywhere or anytime. This is not a new observation by any means, but I think it bears repeating. According to Wikipedia, Tucson is the 32ND largest city in the U.S. with a population of just a little over 1 million as of 2009. A quick perusal of Tucson’s crime statistics reveal a city with above average criminal activity both in comparison to the state of Arizona and the U.S. as a whole. According to one website, it’s the number 18 most dangerous metropolitan area in America.

Even taking that into consideration, I think we can all agree that it is abnormal for an incident such as what occurred last Saturday to occur as evidenced by the fact that these types of mass shootings immediately make the national media and stay in the public eye for long periods of time. Several years later, we still remember and talk about what happened at Columbine High School. Several decades later, people still remember what Charles Whitman did on the campus of the University of Texas. Both of those incidents occurred in cities considered “safer” than Tucson, and yet they still occurred.

Broad daylight or dark of night, suburb or metropolitan city. It makes no difference to the criminal. Those people intent upon doing harm to others will find a time, a place and a way to commit mayhem. A prime example of this is an incident that occurred here in the Dallas area suburb of Garland, TX in 2008. James Broadnax and Demarius Cummings took the DART Blue Line train from South Dallas to the last stop in downtown Garland where they murdered two unarmed men, Matthew Butler and Stephen Swan, who were standing outside a Christian recording studio. The murders were part of a robbery that netted Broadnax and Cummings $2.00 and one of the victims’ car. Their stated reason for going to Garland: that was where all “the rich white people were.” Anyone who knows the Dallas area will know that Garland is not where all “the rich white people” are.

That brings me to the second thing I want to talk about which I’ve already partially addressed in the preceding paragraph: criminals, by their very nature, disobey the laws instituted by well intentioned legislators to keep us “safe” from each other. The sad truth is that you cannot legislate morality and human decency. Human nature is such that good and evil reside in all of us. Some people lean more heavily to one predisposition or the other. Some people are law abiding citizens who understand that a lock means keep out. Some people are not so law abiding for which no amount of locks will keep them out. Some people are intent upon committing violence against others and will find the means to do so regardless of what laws are on the books. A fist is a rock, is a knife, is a gun as far as some people are concerned: all just a means to commit the evil in their hearts. More laws and more restrictions won’t change that. Laws only apply to those who are willing to obey them.

The next observation I’d like to discuss is the sheer miraculousness that unfolded amid the tragedy in Tucson. There is no denying that the death of six people for no other reason than the insanity of a deranged mind is a tragedy. My heart truly goes out to the families of those who were killed or injured. No one should have to go through that. But…but, 14 people survived their wounds where they very easily could have died. Had the shooter been less deranged or more skilled or something, the outcome could have been very different. One of the 14 wounded, Representative Giffords, took a 9mm bullet to the head which went through the left side of the brain and not only lived but will possibly even fully recover. Think about that for a moment. She was shot from what most people consider point blank range with a not insubstantial round and will survive. I haven’t been able to find out what kind of ammunition the shooter was using or what path the bullet took through Ms. Giffords’ brain, but how can you describe that by any other word than “miracle”?

Lastly, I want to comment on some of the chest beating going on in the interwebs about self defense. I’ve seen more than one post or comment to the effect of: “Had I been there, I’d have put two in the chest and one the head.” or “I’d have charged the SOB, taken his gun from him, and beat him senseless with it.” I don’t know much, but this I know: there’s not a man or woman alive that knows what he or she is capable of until after it’s all said and done.

I know that the events of Tucson have reawakened me to examining my beliefs and feelings about self defense. I have spent the past week thinking about what self defense means. To those who think they can be Joe Rambo when the stuffing hits the fan, I submit that, for me, self defense means the defense (not offense) of one’s self and not everyone else or physical property. That may seem a little callous, selfish and self centered, but stop for a moment and think about the ramifications of taking direct action against another person especially if you have not been directly involved in the situation from the very beginning. At best, you are going to be arrested, booked, charged, post bail and eventually be “no billed” by a grand jury incurring significant legal expenses and other consequences in the process. At worst, you could face serious jail time for an unjustified shooting and the complete ruining of your life and the lives of others.

Until you’ve been through a stressful situation, you do not know how you will react or how well you will be able to focus and analyze what’s happening. You may know your own intents and purposes; and, to a lesser extent, those of people close to you (family and friends). However, you cannot know the thoughts or intentions of complete strangers. Under stress, you may not have the same level of judgment and discernment that you normally rely upon. In my opinion, the best thing you can do in the event that you are confronted with someone threatening you is to call 911 and move you and yours away from the area of danger as quickly as possible. If evading the threat is not possible, find the best cover or concealment you can and be prepared to take action necessary to protect yourself.

Despite what the castle doctrine of several states says, that applies to events occurring in your own home as well. So what if someone is trying to break into your home to steal your stuff? If you can leave, leave. Is there any amount of physical property worth a human life? I don’t think there is. So why would we shoot someone trying to steal something that can be replaced?

What will you do when faced with a situation outside the bounds of common decency and law? Have you thought about it? Have you taken the time to look inside yourself and decide what you believe in and what you are willing to do to another human being when everything turns upside down? Have you taken the personal responsibility to prepare yourself physically, emotionally and mentally for when very bad things happen, or are you blindly stumbling through life with no plan and no awareness?

At one time, I studied the martial arts and attained the rank of brown belt in one of the disciplines. There was a time when my martial arts class was asked to be the “attackers” for the women’s “self defense” class taught at the college I attended. We were there so that the “self defense” class, populated almost entirely by sorority girls looking for an easy A, could practice the “techniques” they had been taught. When I grabbed the arm of one of the girls, she actually asked me, her “attacker”, what she was supposed to do. I told her that I couldn’t help her because I was busy taking her purse, her jewelry, etc. She had no clue. She was the proverbial sheep waiting to be slaughtered. She had been told what was coming but was unprepared. In a way, I felt sorry for her.

Balance that with the view of my martial arts instructor. He taught us the three Ds of martial response in a self defense situation: Disarm, Disable, Destroy (also known as Hurt, Maim, Kill). Of course, that philosophy only applied once you got into a situation where you needed to use some level of force.

The thing that has stuck with me most about my martial arts training was that self defense involves more than just the physical act of using force to stop or divert an attack. You have to be aware of your surroundings and the people around you. You have to know your abilities and limitations. You have to know the consequences of your actions. Most importantly, you have to be willing to live with those consequences, good or bad.