You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it. Robin Williams

Location: Kentucky, United States

Monday, March 31, 2003

Court day

8:41am I am sitting in the Circuit Court room in the Grayson County Judicial building. The Judges desk, like an altar to the goddess of Justice, looks down on the rows of hardwood benches were the jurors are seated in submission to the ritual of jurisprudence. Portraits of past Judges going back to the 1800s observe with serious expressions, guarding their legacy. The new jurors whisper among themselves as we await the appearance of black-robed Judge, the bringer of confinement or freedom, the symbol of the Rule of Law in our mighty nation. All the while the one thought that keeps running through my head is “I wonder if I am wearing legal briefs or not?”

8:53am The benches, which I mentioned before, are not even close to comfortable. They are hard and unyielding, and so slick that my “boredom kit” (book, notepad, and PDA) will not stay on the bench next to me, so I must hold it. I do not suppose anyone could ever get comfortable sitting in here anyway.

9:00am I am surprised at how many people I recognize here. This is a small community by most standards, twenty-thousand or more, but I did not now that given random picking you could get so many people who knew each other. There is that Six degrees of separation thing again, but I don’t see Kevin Bacon anywhere.

My Mother-in-Law was also picked to serve. At five minutes until nine, she still had not showed. I was beginning to wonder if I would see the State Police bring her in on a warrant. She made it on time though. I do not know how I feel about that. Hope this doesn’t fall into enemy hands.

9:16am They are calling role. I have not been in a roll call since High School. Having a name beginning with “T” means you get to zone out for quite a while. One thing I am surprised about is how many people for one reason or another decided not to show up. Knowing this can end up with the Police showing up at your door makes you wonder if we really need someone that dumb sitting as a “peer” anyway. Most of the people I met in Jail Ministry were not rolling high IQ numbers either, so maybe they could be peers after all.

As for me I dreamt I over slept. I woke up in near panic, and then showed up at the Court House forty minutes early. Maybe I am the dumb one.

10:30am The first Judge has just given us a one hour civics lesson beginning with the founding of our country, including the three branches of government and a complete breakdown of the Kentucky State Judicial system since 1976, all while we squirm on these unyielding hardwood benches. Did I mention how uncomfortable the benches are?

You know the saying “Guns don’t kill, people do?” In the last twenty minutes of the judge’s talk, five cell phones went off in our small pool of prospective deciders of human fate. The first one I could understand, but after that, you have to be thinking, “did I turn my cell phone off so I won’t look like a jerk too?” No one even tried to talk they just dug around until they found their phones and turned them off hoping they would not incur the wrath of the man on high. I mean the judge, not God, but you get the distinct feeing the judge does not know the difference.

11:00am Now we hear from the Grand Jury Judge. He gives us a civics lesson too, but he starts all the way back with the Magna Carta and comes forward from the twelfth century. I fill as if I have been here that long.

He does give the thought for the day though. We have men who are fighting and dieing to defend the system we have in place today. It is not perfect, but it works. There are not many things that your country requires you to do to protect its freedoms, but this is one of those requirements. This is something I can do to show my support for the men and women who are fighting this war in my place. He tells us it is an honor and a privilege to get to serve and from what I have read of the governments in most of the Middle Eastern countries, I do feel honored and blessed to be here today.

So I raised my right hand and took the oath of service, all the while thanking God that I live in a country where we are free and the rule of law still pervades.

Citizenship 101

Instead of going to work this morning, I am going to court for my first day of Jury duty. I feel apprehensive and a little excited about this. I have read almost everything by John Grisham over the years, and I really liked Henry Fonda’s Twelve angry men. I know that real Jury duty will be boring, my father told me about a trial he sat on where they spent hours talking about where this rock belonged in a field. My wife came close to sitting on a murder trial; I was the reason she did not have too. I was doing Jail Ministry at the time and the suspect (later convicted) came to our class every Monday and spent the whole time trying to rehearse his case. The lawyers told Bev they were glad her husband did Jail Ministry but would we please refrain from talking about the cases. We were both glad she was excused from that one.

I am not sure how I will respond if placed in the position of voting to send someone to jail for a long time. I expect this to be a learning experience about myself as well as the system. I’ll let you know.
Another Time.

Friday, March 28, 2003


A running faucet
never filling up the sink;
blood in desert sand.

Look out behind you

I have read somewhere that a dog does not recognize someone on a bicycle as human. My experience on the road makes me believe this is true. Many times, a drooling hairy mound of teeth, trying to take a bite out of the calf of my leg has turned into tail wagging best friend once I stopped and got off the bike.

I think this phenomenon extends to humans as well. I have lost count of how many times I have had near death experiences while cycling the narrow hilly roads in Kentucky because of drivers with a death wish. My life has passed in front of my eyes so many times I know it by heart. (Insert winky smiley face here ;)

There is something about getting behind a steering wheel that instantly lowers a person’s I.Q. This includes me as well. Zack says I am “grumpy” when I drive. What he means is I keep a running critique going of how badly the other drivers are performing. I am the self-appointed Siskel and Ebert of the roadway. “I give that idiot who didn’t use a turning signal two thumbs down. Beverle, what do you think? Boys, wave nicely now as I cut him off at the next light”. It is not that bad, but sometimes it does get close. However, although I might understand the mentality, I would never do anything that might endanger my family, and by extension the other driver.

I used to stay close to the shoulder of the road when a car approached from behind, but I quickly learned this just makes the driver more likely to turn stupid. The incident that changed my mind occurred in a curve between two hills. I heard a car approaching from behind. I moved over to the shoulder of the road while also keeping an eye on the car coming the other way. Then was almost blown off the bike as the car from behind passed within arms reach, meeting the oncoming car. I thought I was dead. The driver had not slowed at all and probably accelerated trying to beat the oncoming car. Now, when a car approaches from behind I move to the left and claim my legal portion of the highway. If they are going to pass me illegally, they are going to put themselves at risk too, and if they run me over, the greasy spot that used to be me will be in the lane so the cops can see it and arrest the butt-hole who ran me down.

Cyclists have had to come up with several defenses to survive the shark-infested highways. We have our own language. “Two-back” yelled from the rear rider tells all his fellow riders that two vehicles are approaching from the rear. “Truck-up” informs you that a Semi-truck is about to blow you off the road. Why do we call them Semi-trucks? If anything is a “whole” truck, they are. Maybe we should call them “Freaking Big” trucks instead. What is the last thing that went through the cyclists mind when he was squashed by a Semi…

His butt.

Looking over your shoulder to see if a car is coming seems like common sense, but it is not as simple as it sounds. To look behind yourself over the left shoulder; you hold to the hood of the hand brake with your right hand, let go with your left hand, sit up and turn from the waist while placing your arm behind your back. This counter balances your weight on the bike so while looking behind you do not veer into the lane you are riding in. Veering in front of an oncoming car would rather defeat the purpose of looking back in the first place.

Mirrors make seeing behind you much easier, but with a road bike you have several riding positions that you must keep shifting between. Part of this is has to do with the balance between applying power and being aerodynamic. However, it also has a lot to do with numbness in areas of the male anatomy better left unmentioned. Sitting on a tiny hard saddle for a couple of hours requires subtle shifting every few minutes if you plan on walking (or other things) after getting off the bike. If you placed a mirror on the bike for every riding position, you would end up being reported as a U.F.O.\Unbelievably Foolish Object

Someone a lot smarter than me invented the eyeglass mirror. This is a coin-sized mirror on a three-inch boom that attaches to a pair of sunglasses, or in my case, bifocals. No, they do not make cool sports glasses in bifocals. Yes, growing older sucks.

With the eyeglass mirror, just a subtle shift of the head allows you to see what ever happens to be bearing down on you from behind. This gives you plenty of time to scream or curse, whichever you would prefer.

After taking a ride, I regret having to take my mirror off. It has helped me survive another day on the highway and you can get somewhat attached to something that saves your life on a regular basis. After all, knowing what is sneaking up on you from behind is always a good thing. If Robert Johnson had worn a bike mirror maybe he could have gotten a head start on those “Hell hounds” on his trail. Then again, maybe he should have just stopped and gotten off the bike.

Another Time

Wednesday, March 26, 2003

Help me out here

I need to talk, to work something out in my own mind, so this post may not make much sense, and I may have to ramble through several posts before I reach a conclusion.

We have been a Home-school family for several years now. We started when Rachel, my oldest was in Middle school, and Jason our oldest son was going into second grade. Zachary, the youngest is to begin Middle School next year and has never been in the public school system. We have done this while working full time jobs. In addition for five or six years we were “unpaid” full time youth pastors.

Home-schooling comes in many flavors. While identified with the Conservative Christian movement there are versions for every faith as well as atheist and secular varieties. While we are Christian, Christian education was not our driving concern in pulling our kids out of the system. Instead, it was the other kinds of education we were concerned they might pick up. We considered Home-schooling with Rachel and had given up on the idea as being impractical, but one night she told Bev, “Mom you would not believe what I have seen and what people have tried to get me to do this year in school”. We took that as a cry for help, hoped we were making the right decision, and just did it.

Rachel has turned out well; she is in college now and had a 3.9 something average last semester. Of course, she has always been a gifted child and so it probably has more to do with her intelligence than our teaching skills. Let me say right here though that if any credit is to be given, it has to go 110% to my wife who is superhuman, and the source of all the intelligence in this family. She has taken almost all the responsibility of teaching the kids her self, as well as a full time job, being a homemaker, and putting up with me. My wife is a Saint. She is the Proverbs 31 woman in the flesh. She does not “do” computers though, so she will never read this. Therefore, I can talk about her however I want ;)

My problem is this. The boys think they want to enter public school. Zack is the one who brought it up, but now Jason says he wants to also. This has more to do with hanging out with friends between classes than scholastics, but I take the “hanging out” very seriously.

When I was a youth pastor, I sang lead in a praise band. One night we were performing at the local Middle school for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. After our portion of the evening, the gym was opened up for free time. Basketball and volleyball erupted and the kids were running, jumping and laughing. I found Zack, who was about seven at the time sitting in the stands crying his heart out. I sat him in my lap and asked what was wrong and he said he wanted to play with the kids but couldn’t. He was little, and no one wanted a seven-year-old on his or her team. Sitting there holding him I had a sudden realization. I had been raised in a neighborhood of elderly people and was the only kid in the area. I remembered what it was like to be alone and how it has shaped who I have become. That was not what I wanted for him. There we set, alone in row after row of empty bleachers, while just out of reach a hundred or more kids were playing and I thought “Am I doing this to him? What is he going to think of the choices that I have made for him when he is grown? Will he blame me for same loneliness I had as a child?”

Zack told me he does not remember the above episode, but it is still very clear in my mind. It haunts and depresses me whenever I dwell on it. How do I choose what is right when both choices seem to have negative drawbacks. If I discipline my children it is not because I am angry with them, in fact I walk away if I do get angry, wait until I calm down and then decide how to handle the problem. I discipline to condition them to modify their own behavior. It is always easier to clean their room than to get them too, but that teaches them the wrong skill set. This is different. I do not want to cause them discomfort to modify their behavior, I want to protect them from something that will harm them in the long term and in so doing I will cause them discomfort. No good parent wants to make their children unhappy, but sometimes we understand the depth of circumstances better, we look at the long view and not the short term and that’s okay. My problem is weighing the lesser of two evils while not being sure which evil will have the least long-term impact on my sons.

Socialization is always a major concern for anyone thinking about Home-schooling. How do you bring social interaction into such a small home unit? The answer given is that Home-schooled kids are more mature than their age group socially and intellectually. In every case but one, I have found this true. In fact, it was the Home-schooled kids I had in our Youth Group that made me consider Home-schooling in the first place. They were polite, respectful of others and not afraid to hang out with any age group. I realized even today, twenty plus years out of high school classes I still think of people I meet as in my “class”, under my “class”, or above my “class”. Home-school kids are not segregated from any social group so they are just as happy to interact with small kids as adults, because the social stigma of cool and uncool is a learned behavior not an ingrained social pattern. My daughter and her Youth Group friends were equally at home with us “old folks” as they were with “little” Zack.

What I remember of school, especially middle and high school, was being bullied and picked on. It did not always happened to me, but I saw others who went through daily harassment and verbal abuse. This is something that I do not feel is necessary for the social development of my children. I have had some say to me that it would be good for them that they should learn to “stand up for themselves”. “What are you going to do wait until they are grown up then throw them to the wolves?” My thought on this has always been that; yes, the world can be cruel, and we try to educate our children in its dangers, but I do not teach my children to be careful with fire by burning them. I want to show them how to not be burned.

Zack told me he would like to have six or seven good friends. I want to do everything I can to make this happen, but I also want to make sure that his friends do not destroy the “sunshine” of his smile.

“For I would wander weary miles

And suffer ridicule my child

Just to see the sunrise of your smile

To see the light behind your eyes

The happy thought that makes you fly

Yes, I would wander weary miles

Just to see the sunrise of your smile”*

* Michael Card: The Sunrise of Your Smile

Monday, March 24, 2003

It is soo goood!

I am beginning to wonder about this diet Sierra Mist stuff. I stop at gas stations and pick up three two-liters at a time just in case we might be out at home. If I just stop to get gas I will pick up two small bottles and drink them on the way home. This is just not like me. I’m wondering if there is not some kind of conspiracy going on here. This drink was not heard of a few short months ago and now when I ask anyone about it they are all like, “Yeah, isn’t that stuff soo goood?” I’m agreeing, bobbing my head with this feverish gleam in my eye. “Yeah man, it is so much better than Sprite” I do not even like Sprite. Where is this coming from? Has some marketing company finally found the keys to the human psyche, or is this the cigarette industry abandoning tobacco and branching out into different markets? Don’t you think it is suspicious Philip Morris changed it’s name? About the same time this drink started hitting the shelves? Let the lawsuits begin.

The boys spent the weekend at a “Disciple Now” retreat. That left Bev and I alone for the weekend, or so we thought. My Mother-in-law needed an attic ladder installed, so Robby, my Son-in-law came down and I helped him put it up Saturday. We had hoped it would not take very long, but these things never go as planned, so the afternoon was shot.

The next day we caught up with the boys again at Church. Kevin, one of our Youth Pastors, started doing Biathlons and Triathlons this year and Robby and I met up with him around two O’clock. We joined him for a twenty-one mile bike ride. I did better than I thought I would considering I am…

1. Old, that is compared to twenty something.
2. Have hardly worked out in almost two years.
3. Have only ridden three times this year.
4. Need to lose fifteen pounds.

I am hoping to get out this afternoon and put some more miles in. Where we rode was relatively flat so we had to do a lot of spinning. My regular route near the house is typical backroads Kentucky; straight up and straight down. I would include some pictures, but you do not want to see me in bike shorts.

Who ever invented bike shorts really knew what they were doing. I have taken a long ride without them and did OK, but the next day the insides of my legs were so raw I could barely walk. All of the bike apparel is very functional, and necessary if you are going to ride long and often. However, when you have to get off the bike to go into a backwoods Kentucky store to get a Gatorade or something, you can hear the banjo player from Deliverance warming up. People look at you like you just stepped off a UFO. As you can imagine, we do not have a large cycling community in my area. The hills turn people off real quick.

I read about a college mountain bike race that took place near Murray Kentucky. The team from Colorado thought this was a wimpy course to hold a race on because the elevation gain over the course was so little. They were used to riding up more shallow grades over distances of miles. They did not know what a “holler” was. One of the Colorado riders thought he was on the last lap around the up and down course. When informed there was one more lap to go he just quit. He could “spin” all day, but the intensity of the short hills left no time to rest in-between.

A “holler” by the way is a very small valley, sometimes nothing more than a water runoff ditch, surrounded on all sides by steep hills. I do not know the origins of the word. Holler, is one of those uniquely southern words like “ain’t” as in “I ain’t gonna go down in that holler there might be snakes there”. Another one that drives my daughter crazy is “retch”, as in “I’m gonna retch over you and get a stick to hit that snake with.” Robby, my son-in-law from Ohio and I use that word frequently around Rachel just to see the reaction.

Despite what I have just been saying, most people in Kentucky are as normal and literate as anywhere else in America. Yet, for some reason people from other parts of the country tend to think of Kentuckians as backward, uneducated hillbillies. The people the media seem to pick for interviews does not help this image. I think they look around a crime scene and think, “now, who is the hickest looking redneck here so we can get him on TV.” “Why yes suh, I reckon I did see’um cummin outta that there bank. I ain’t seen nuttin that scary since I retch down in that holler over yonder an picked up that snake”.

A friend of mine visited family in New York. Her cousins were all surprised she wore very little make-up and had shoes on her feet. When she told me this I thought she was kidding, but she said they were serious.

I guess we have to pay in some manner for living in such a beautiful part of the country. Yesterday I saw several deer on the side of the road, a hawk hunting rodents in a field. Several wild rabbits ran away from our car as well as a skunk. This was just on the ride home from Church.

There are three natural springs within a short walk of our house, which run cold, clean water year round. There is a creek in the field across from our house, and a red fox has a den just off in the woods from it.

A very nice peaceful place to live, now if we could only get DSL.
I’ve rambled enough, another time.


Friday, March 21, 2003

Shock and Awe

Just came from msnbc.com where I was watching a live feed from downtown Baghdad. You can see and hear cars driving by. It seems easy to imagine the live image of those missiles hitting Baghdad being right outside the window. The enormity of the explosions, the debris flying in the air, makes me cringe. I hope the shock and awe makes its point, and no one is needlessly hurt.

They say this is the beginning of the “Shock and Awe” campaign. I am in shock at the enormity of the explosions and in “awe” of the access I have to what is happening over there. Through the many war blog sites, the discussion boards, the SAT photos, and this live video feed, it is like being a part of a real (yet horrible) event. I know how stupid that sounds, of course it is a real event, but never have we been this close to what was happening. It used to be spoon fed to us on a “need to know basis”, but now we have Salam in Baghdad telling us about buying CD’s just a few days before it all started. (I really hope and pray that he and his are safe). I just can’t get over how much the Internet has changed the way I see the world.

Thursday, March 20, 2003

Remembering Susan

I highly recommend spending some time reading this sight. It is a cyber-memorial that I ran into while reading some hypertext journals. Read the e-mail progression from beginning to end. Make sure you have tissue ready though; this story will tear you up. It is worth the effort though. Andreas tells us at one point to go hug the one you love, and I was made very aware of how blessed I am today that my wife is healthy and with me. This site is not just a downer though, you get to feel like you have met Susan and she is a person worth knowing if only in memoriam.


The last couple of days have reminded me of how I felt growing up under the threat of Vietnam and the Cold war. When I was eight years old, I was already aware that I might end up fighting in a war I knew nothing about. The peripheral of daily life always included the news of war and the lists of the dead. I don’t remember my parents ever discussing it with me, or much detailed discussion around our household, but at times it was an unspoken question of would I die when I turned eighteen.

Later when I was a teenager, I became self aware of the reality of nuclear war, and how it could affect my family and me. I learned the effect a twenty mega-ton air blast would have if detonated over Fort Knox. Twelve miles away the heat would blister the paint on cars. They told us Russia had enough missiles for every town with a population of 10,000 or more, and that some missiles where targeted for individual people. We lived twenty road minutes from a town that fit that description, for population and army leadership. I learned that hiding under your desk at school would not do much good when the shock wave disintegrated the building.

I never had to be drafted, I never even came close. I still held my breath for six years or so after turning 18. Technically, I could still be drafted because I work in the medical field, but they don’t have much front line need for a forty-three year old echo cardiographer.

I have two sons, ages fifteen and twelve. I am holding my breath again.

What would I give for the security of my country? Would I give my life? Yes, I would stand with those who are fighting today. I understand the need of what we are doing. It is much more complex than any sound bite or single essay from either point of view can explain. Would I give the life of my sons? I would gladly endure any torture, fight bare handed and with my teeth to protect my family. I would nuke them all. I would nuke them all. You cannot have my sons.

Today there are two nations of sons faced off against each other. God help us. Pray for peace in the Middle East. They are all our children.

Tuesday, March 18, 2003

Is that the sun I see?

Still not feeling too good here in the Tucker household. I have been hearing from those who have had this bug that it makes its presence known for several weeks. That being said, I did get out on the bike yesterday for a sixteen-mile ride, my first of this year. With Rachel’s wedding and all that happened with Bev’s Grandmother last year I don’t think I rode a couple of hundred miles all year long. I’m not one to ride when it gets below sixty degrees. I really do not like winter. When the sun “returns” my mood brightens as well. Seasonal Affective Disorder is real, although from a guy’s perspective it really sounds lame. I first notice it around August of each year. I tell my wife “the suns gone, fall is here now”. She thought I was crazy for a while, (and I may well be, but that’s another story), but then she noticed our daughter would independently say the same thing within a few days of when I did.

In the spring, there comes a day that is like waking up from a dream, like somebody flicked a switch and the light is on again. If this does not happen to you I’m sure this sounds stupid and the explanation sure did to me for several years, but now I just accept it as part of who I am. It makes me think differently about spiritual references to light though. In the last book of the Bible we are told that in the New Jerusalem there will be no more sun, that God himself will be our light. Light reveals; darkness hides. Light is a truth that guides, as in “The way, the truth, and the life”. I’m a big believer that physical representation is used to express spiritual truth in scripture, and being evidently sensitive to variations in light patterns its easy to see that quality of light is reflected in quality of life. God told Jacob, “Because you have struggled with God and man, and yet have overcome, you will no longer be called Jacob, but Israel”.

I make no claim to having it (life, truth, whatever) figured out, but it seems to me Jacob tells us it is in the struggle, the journey, that we find the key to seeing God’s face, and that is nothing to be Sad about.

My that sounded stuffy ;) Let’s think and pray about the safety of those on both sides of what is getting ready to happen in Iraq. I really look forward to Where’s Raed telling us in a few days that everyone is their household is safe.

Another Time

Sunday, March 16, 2003

That furry greenish meat? cake? thing in the back of the fridge may have a soul

My favorites list in IE has gotten out of hand. When I click on the little tab I get the distinct impression I'm being watched. At last sorta count I was over three thousand plus links and growing, and that was after several hefty prunings. There are places in there I am afraid to go to now for fear of never being heard from again. What is the magic number or combination of strange and twisted links it would take to allow a genesis of sorts, a gestalt of url's bubbling, fermenting into a new type of intelligence. Maybe the next big sci-fi movie should be about an AI made from a computer left running too long, a six degrees of separation made up of millions of linked .coms com ing together to send us all to htme-double L.

On a lighter note, why can't I seem to find a Favorites folder museum on the web? Wouldn't you like to get a look at the favorites folder of some of these celebrities or politicians? Aren't you a little curious what links are in Ozzie Osbornes folders? OK, bad example. How about Bill Gates, or George Bush, or even Saddam's?

What would the Holy Grail of lists be? Who in the world has the largest, best organized? The sickest, most perverted, ( anybody thinking pee wee herman here?) You know with a name like that we should have been tipped off.

Somebody should set this up, a place where we could share our collected links with each other. Checking out someone's well used lists would reveal a lot about that person. Maybe we could check for compatibility for couples by comparing their lists in a public forum. "Are my Lists hot or not"?

If anybody knows of a site like this please let me know.

And I'll add it to my Favorites List ;)

Another Time

Friday, March 14, 2003

Still hazy after all these years

Everyone still sick here. Bev missed three days of work. I missed today. If you could sell mucus by the quart then... well, you probably don't want to know too much about that.

I did get feeling better enough to put in some computer time. Trying to set up net-banking, e-billing, car maintenance online, etc. All real good legit reasons to get broadband! That's what the boys and I keep telling Bev anyway. This 40k dial-up is beginning to affect my well being. People ask me something and I stare blankly at them for five, six minutes before I can give a response. And asking me to understand something new, well, that can take all day!

As you might have seen from some of the pictures I've posted at times, we live in a very beautiful country setting. We routinely have a herd of white-tail deer who eat in our backyard just a few feet from the house. Fox, owls, vultures, a possum on the front porch last night, all around us are sights that people in Manhattan would pay big money to visit. We would trade it all for DSL with a good ping rate.

When I was a kid, I lived in town. My Grandfather had a couple acres of garden next to a railroad track. I would spend huge hunks of my free time on the tracks. I learned to run the ties and on the rail, jumping back and forth between the tracks. I could tell in an almost subliminal way what the speed of the train was just by the sound. If I felt the right pitch I would drop whatever I was doing and sprint to the tracks to catch a slow moving train and ride a half a mile or so before it got too fast to jump off of. All along the tracks were little trails leading off to "secret" hideouts in the trees. I would bring my air rifle and set up bottles on the tracks, then chip away trying to see how slowly I could take the bottles apart. Try to shoot a bb in such a way that it would spin around on the inside of the jar, so I could use that bb again. There was this special huge old tree that had a three branch crutch right near the top that made almost a lounge chair, and you could see for what felt like miles. I would sit and read in the afternoon, heavy things, philosophy and poetry, and every thought would make me look up, to watch the clouds pass for hours at a time.

I would have killed to grow up in a place like where I live now, but I can't get my boys to go outside. They would kill for DSL. Maybe it is running in a larger neighborhood than I ever had, bigger, more sweeping ideas to be had than just Descartes or Whitman,but it is just virtual and I worry about them not being able to mull "placid and self-contained" while watching a mountain of cumulous do its slow ponderous dance on the breeze.

Wednesday, March 12, 2003

Sick we are, even the machine

Everyone here has the flu. Bev and I always joke that working in the medical field we get to sample all the new viruses first. It would be funny if it weren't true.

The computer came down with one too. Jason had to wipe the drive and reload the OS. Just loaded McCafee a couple weeks ago. Can't blame them though, Z had email html and preview turned on and the firewall turned off. What are ya gonna do?

Take two, and call me another time.

The medication is working now

Just recovered from the last post. Glad to be back in the land of the living.