I'm fat. But if you know me, you probably already knew that. And my dearest friends don't care. They love me no matter what I look like. And for that, I'm grateful.
But I'm tired of being fat, and I'm going to do something about it. I'm going to do something about it on my terms. For me. Not for anyone else. For me.
Don't worry, this isn't going to become one of those "join me in my journey to a healthier me" blogs. That shit requires effort.
Okay, maybe I will blog about it every now and then. But let's be honest - I haven't blogged much about anything lately. So you don't have much to worry about.
I'm going to join Weight Watchers - there's a meeting each week at my workplace - a meeting I found out is attended by several colleagues I know and trust and respect. And our health insurance will reimburse 25% of the cost provided I make it to 11 out of 12 weigh-ins over a 12 week period.
What caused me to finally do something about this? Well, I have a list of my motivations:
- Tired of having to go to fat people stores to buy my clothes. Those places are expensive, and as of late, the employees are getting to be real shitheads. They've got a corner on the market. I don't want to be a part of that market anymore. I want to shop at Old Navy again.
- I'm sick of what I see in the mirror, so I'm going to change it.
- I have so little energy for anything it's ridiculous.
- I want to have women be interested in me again. I'm sick of having women look at me and have zero interest whatsoever because of my physical appearance. I want to give them the opportunity to have no interest in me because I'm a reprehensible human being. You know - the old-fashioned way. All kidding aside, though, I do have some women who are interested in me, but they're all my size. And while they may find that attractive, I don't want someone to be attracted to a version of myself that I really don't like. At all.
- Oh yeah, that too - I don't like that about myself. I know I'm a good person and all, but I just don't like being overweight. If you've been there, you know what I'm talking about.
So yeah. It's time to do something, damn it.
I realize it's going to be really, really difficult. I'm going to screw up. That's okay. But as long as I'm making a genuine effort to change myself and my lifestyle, and I'm seeking outside help in doing it, I can at least say I'm taking action, which is better than nothing.
I did this once before - when I was about 10 years old. My parents made me go to Weight Watchers each week. I lost some weight, but I was a kid. I didn't know what was going on. And I didn't have the self-awareness to make the decision to go on my own. And let's be honest here for a minute - imagine being a 10 year old boy in a Weight Watchers meeting full of middle-aged women. How the hell did my parents think that would help me at all? Every time I shared anything at these meetings, the middle aged women got all weepy.
Oh, and I assure you that when you're 10 years old, and it gets out that you go to Weight Watchers meetings (because several of your classmates' mothers are in the meetings as well) your peers will not greet this news with respect and understanding. No, they will continue to tease you, but this time they will do so with greater frequency and enthusiasm than ever before. So yeah, clearly THAT was going to work out for me.
When I was 12 I did another program - again, the decision of my parents - at a local pediatric hospital. I wasn't really that overweight, looking back at it. There were kids in the program who weighed 300 lbs. and were the same age as me.
And I didn't really get anything out of the program - especially when my parents (who had to attend with me) would take me out to eat at Imo's on the way home.
People in this program kept telling me I needed to exercise. I needed to eat more nutritious stuff. A lot of grown ups spent a lot of time talking at me. Not many people really listened to me. And, again, I'm not sure I had the self-awareness necessary to realize that kids made fun of me because I was overweight, and that I could make that stop by losing weight, AND that I was the one who had to do something about it. That nobody else could do it for me. I mean, sure, I was told all of those things at various points in time, and I figured it out on my own later on, but for some reason it took until this weekend for me to finally decide to do something about it.
Okay, maybe this is turning into a bit of a weight loss blog already. So I'll shut up now. Thankfully I've got nearly 1,000 other posts to balance things out a bit.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
The other side of "No."
This was brought to my attention today.
Summary: Amelia needs a kidney. Amelia also has other medical conditions, chief among them Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome, a heartbreaking condition that results in mental retardation, muscle hypotonia, congenital heart defects, ongoing renal issues, and a whole host of other medical issues. A surgeon at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia says they can't put Amelia on a transplant list because of all these issues. The family says, "that's okay, we have a big family and we're all willing to donate a kidney." The doctor still says no, it's too risky. Among the reasons the doctor cites are mental retardation. Understandably, Amelia's parents flip out and believe their child is being discriminated against.
Parent writes emotional blog post. Outrage ensues.
I ask that you please take a moment to consider this situation from the physician's point of view.
When any healthcare professional decides to enter the profession, they take an oath to do what is best for their patients, and to put the patient's health above all else.
"Then why won't they do the surgery?" you ask. That's an excellent question.
When a patient is in need of a transplant, no matter where the transplanted organ is coming from, a number of factors are considered. Among those are the long-term prognosis of the patient.
After researching her condition a bit more, as well as reading up on the specifics of the case, it seems as though Amelia has multiple health issues, including some cardiac troubles in the past. This is in addition to Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome.
Because of her other conditions, attempting a transplant is far more likely to result in speeding up Amelia's demise than it is to be successful. No matter who donates the kidney, that's just the reality of the situation. And then, even if a transplant occurred and was successful, how long would it be before she needed another kidney? And another? And what about her heart? Is her heart even strong enough to endure such a major procedure?
These are the things doctors have to take into consideration every day when determining whether a patient - like Amelia - is a good candidate for a transplant. You don't just show up one day needing a new organ and are put on a waiting list.
The physician arrived at his original decision not because he has it in for Amelia, or he has something against the mentally disabled. No, I'd bet that he knows that the risks involved with any sort of transplant are far too great to justify moving forward.
Now because this physician clearly has no bedside manner whatsoever (as is the case with many of the best surgeons - just ask any doctor or nurse), it came across as "we're not doing the transplant because your child is retarded." Should this have been approached by someone who is better with patients? Absolutely.
The doctor made a tough decision - one that I have no doubt was difficult for him. I'm guessing he believes it would be better for the family to have time to say goodbye, rather than send this poor child into the operating room to be sedated and probably never wake up again.
It's a heartbreaking situation for all parties involved. I understand the anger, because I've been on that end of it. But I also understand the reasoning.
In closing, I'd argue that Amelia's course of treatment should be determined in conversations between her parents and the ethics committee at CHoP. And in these conversations, both parties need to share AND listen to the other side. Although there have been several online polls established asking the hospital to perform the surgery, please remember that no matter what happens, this is not a matter for the public to decide, nor should it be.
Let's all hope for the best outcome for Amelia, regardless.
Summary: Amelia needs a kidney. Amelia also has other medical conditions, chief among them Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome, a heartbreaking condition that results in mental retardation, muscle hypotonia, congenital heart defects, ongoing renal issues, and a whole host of other medical issues. A surgeon at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia says they can't put Amelia on a transplant list because of all these issues. The family says, "that's okay, we have a big family and we're all willing to donate a kidney." The doctor still says no, it's too risky. Among the reasons the doctor cites are mental retardation. Understandably, Amelia's parents flip out and believe their child is being discriminated against.
Parent writes emotional blog post. Outrage ensues.
I ask that you please take a moment to consider this situation from the physician's point of view.
When any healthcare professional decides to enter the profession, they take an oath to do what is best for their patients, and to put the patient's health above all else.
"Then why won't they do the surgery?" you ask. That's an excellent question.
When a patient is in need of a transplant, no matter where the transplanted organ is coming from, a number of factors are considered. Among those are the long-term prognosis of the patient.
After researching her condition a bit more, as well as reading up on the specifics of the case, it seems as though Amelia has multiple health issues, including some cardiac troubles in the past. This is in addition to Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome.
Because of her other conditions, attempting a transplant is far more likely to result in speeding up Amelia's demise than it is to be successful. No matter who donates the kidney, that's just the reality of the situation. And then, even if a transplant occurred and was successful, how long would it be before she needed another kidney? And another? And what about her heart? Is her heart even strong enough to endure such a major procedure?
These are the things doctors have to take into consideration every day when determining whether a patient - like Amelia - is a good candidate for a transplant. You don't just show up one day needing a new organ and are put on a waiting list.
The physician arrived at his original decision not because he has it in for Amelia, or he has something against the mentally disabled. No, I'd bet that he knows that the risks involved with any sort of transplant are far too great to justify moving forward.
Now because this physician clearly has no bedside manner whatsoever (as is the case with many of the best surgeons - just ask any doctor or nurse), it came across as "we're not doing the transplant because your child is retarded." Should this have been approached by someone who is better with patients? Absolutely.
The doctor made a tough decision - one that I have no doubt was difficult for him. I'm guessing he believes it would be better for the family to have time to say goodbye, rather than send this poor child into the operating room to be sedated and probably never wake up again.
It's a heartbreaking situation for all parties involved. I understand the anger, because I've been on that end of it. But I also understand the reasoning.
In closing, I'd argue that Amelia's course of treatment should be determined in conversations between her parents and the ethics committee at CHoP. And in these conversations, both parties need to share AND listen to the other side. Although there have been several online polls established asking the hospital to perform the surgery, please remember that no matter what happens, this is not a matter for the public to decide, nor should it be.
Let's all hope for the best outcome for Amelia, regardless.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Taking it to the streets
As I was returning home from running some errands this afternoon, I turned onto the side street that leads to my house. I did so at a normal rate of speed.
About a third of the way up the block, an old man and two small children were walking down the middle of the street. The old man ushered the children to the side so I could drive by. He yelled something impolite at me as I drove past.
That's right. He was angry at me because I had the audacity to use, in a legal manner, a street. And even though there are two perfectly good sidewalks down either side of the street, he chose to lead two small children down the middle of that street, less than a block from a major arterial road.
What's sad is that this isn't the first time I've seen this.
On the opposite side of things, I've also seen a lot of adults - grown-ass people - riding bikes down the sidewalks.
So, St. Louis, can we all just agree that sidewalks are for feet and streets are for wheels? And can we maybe, just maybe, abide by that? And use crosswalks, too? You know, when the walk signal is lit?
I was on Grand the other day, and right near a four-way intersection, a kid - maybe 10 years old - darted out in front of me, perpendicular to traffic flow.
It's like he was asking to get hit.
When was street-crossing etiquette abandoned? Is this something people no longer teach their kids?
About a third of the way up the block, an old man and two small children were walking down the middle of the street. The old man ushered the children to the side so I could drive by. He yelled something impolite at me as I drove past.
That's right. He was angry at me because I had the audacity to use, in a legal manner, a street. And even though there are two perfectly good sidewalks down either side of the street, he chose to lead two small children down the middle of that street, less than a block from a major arterial road.
What's sad is that this isn't the first time I've seen this.
On the opposite side of things, I've also seen a lot of adults - grown-ass people - riding bikes down the sidewalks.
So, St. Louis, can we all just agree that sidewalks are for feet and streets are for wheels? And can we maybe, just maybe, abide by that? And use crosswalks, too? You know, when the walk signal is lit?
I was on Grand the other day, and right near a four-way intersection, a kid - maybe 10 years old - darted out in front of me, perpendicular to traffic flow.
It's like he was asking to get hit.
When was street-crossing etiquette abandoned? Is this something people no longer teach their kids?
Sunday, September 11, 2011
A Remembrance
I really can't believe it's been a decade since that Tuesday morning in September when our lives changed forever.
It's been a decade and a day since the last time I didn't think about terrorism. Or the dangers of extremism. Or why we can't all just live with our differences. After all, we're all stuck on this rock together, and nobody gets out alive.
A decade ago, I began to seriously question faith and religion. I thought about how the people who so easily killed over three thousand innocent strangers did so in the name of religion. And then I thought about the numerous other terrible acts perpetrated throughout history, all in the name of some theological beliefs.
And, a few years ago, after much thought and consideration, I arrived at the conclusion that no religion comes without negative consequences.
Over the course of my life, my religious views have gone from being a devout, obedient Catholic, to being a skeptic who views all religions - from the mainstream belief systems that have existed for thousands of years, to the cults that have sprung up in the last few - as little more than organized willful ignorance.
There are those who will argue that religion is a positive force. To those individuals, I ask whether any given religion is positive for everyone, or if it is only positive for those who subscribe to it?
Why should innocent people have to die for something that is supposedly so good and pure? What use is any belief system for which lives have been ended? I'm not just talking about Islam. I'm talking about Catholicism. I'm talking about Protestantism. I'm talking about Mormonism. Or really, just about any religion. Sure, forgiveness may be preached, but is it practiced? Why do we really need religion, anyway? Isn't it far more noble to treat our fellow humans with respect for the sake of treating them with respect? Do we really need a theology telling us we need to do it? Can't we be good to one another without religion?
We can certainly be horrible to one another because of it...
I think back to the attacks on this day, ten years ago. The lives lost, the hopes and dreams shattered, the innocence taken away from us. I think about how the events of that day changed me in ways I could never have imagined.
I think about the seemingly endless footage of planes and explosions and rubble on the days following 9/11. I never saw the World Trade Center in person, but that doesn't stop my heart from sinking a little bit every time I see images of it, and I think of the awful events that occurred there, ten years ago today.
New York, you're always on my mind, and you always will be.
It's been a decade and a day since the last time I didn't think about terrorism. Or the dangers of extremism. Or why we can't all just live with our differences. After all, we're all stuck on this rock together, and nobody gets out alive.
A decade ago, I began to seriously question faith and religion. I thought about how the people who so easily killed over three thousand innocent strangers did so in the name of religion. And then I thought about the numerous other terrible acts perpetrated throughout history, all in the name of some theological beliefs.
And, a few years ago, after much thought and consideration, I arrived at the conclusion that no religion comes without negative consequences.
Over the course of my life, my religious views have gone from being a devout, obedient Catholic, to being a skeptic who views all religions - from the mainstream belief systems that have existed for thousands of years, to the cults that have sprung up in the last few - as little more than organized willful ignorance.
There are those who will argue that religion is a positive force. To those individuals, I ask whether any given religion is positive for everyone, or if it is only positive for those who subscribe to it?
Why should innocent people have to die for something that is supposedly so good and pure? What use is any belief system for which lives have been ended? I'm not just talking about Islam. I'm talking about Catholicism. I'm talking about Protestantism. I'm talking about Mormonism. Or really, just about any religion. Sure, forgiveness may be preached, but is it practiced? Why do we really need religion, anyway? Isn't it far more noble to treat our fellow humans with respect for the sake of treating them with respect? Do we really need a theology telling us we need to do it? Can't we be good to one another without religion?
We can certainly be horrible to one another because of it...
I think back to the attacks on this day, ten years ago. The lives lost, the hopes and dreams shattered, the innocence taken away from us. I think about how the events of that day changed me in ways I could never have imagined.
I think about the seemingly endless footage of planes and explosions and rubble on the days following 9/11. I never saw the World Trade Center in person, but that doesn't stop my heart from sinking a little bit every time I see images of it, and I think of the awful events that occurred there, ten years ago today.
New York, you're always on my mind, and you always will be.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Hi again
In two days, this blog turns eight. If this blog were a human child, it would be in second grade. Or maybe third grade, if it was a fast learner.
I've only posted two other times this year. And that is a pretty accurate summary of my life. There's not a lot going on that's worth writing about - at least not from my perspective.
I have noticed a social media usage pattern lately. Well, not lately, but I guess it's mostly just occurring to me now.
Back when I used IRC, there was a beginning, middle, and end to my usage. And with each of those stages came a corresponding number of my friends who also used it. In the beginning, there were a good number of people there, but not a ton. The middle featured a ton of people I knew, all in one place, all chatting. Eventually, though, it dwindled down to just a handful.
Then I moved to ICQ. The same thing happened - a few people, a ton of people, a handful, and then none whatsoever.
There was a brief flirtation with Yahoo Messenger due to Truman's IT policies, which prohibited ICQ due to a security issue. Same thing - a few people, a bunch of people, and then no one.
Then came AOL Instant Messenger (a.k.a., AIM) - the same thing. A few people, a metric crap load of people, and now there are none. I mean, I'm sure they're out there, but they're not people I know.
Then there was MySpace. Granted, this was a whole new animal - social networking, not just chatting. The same thing happened. My network was small, then ridiculously large (about 300 people at one point, with maybe 1/2 of them posting regularly), and then it fizzled out. Now it's a digital ghost town, inhabited only by those who can only be described as marginally civilized. You know, that junkie cousin everyone has, whose profile is filled with animated gifs of marijuana leaves and spam comments from shitty rappers. Note: if you don't have a cousin like that, look in the mirror. You ARE that cousin. Although if you've read this far, I'm going to go ahead and assume you're not that person. Myspace is not a place inhabited by those with long attention spans.
Oh, wait - I had Friendster for like a month before I got on MySpace. I totally forgot about that. Ha. Apparently it's still big in Asia? Who knows? Who cares.
Chatting didn't go away, though. Google Talk has had a much longer lifespan, I have to admit. I've been using it for a good while. Ever since it came out, honestly. Of course, this started out more slowly than other forms of communication. And it never had huge numbers, but they were solid. I'd easily have 15 people online at any given time. But then people just stopped coming online so much. Or maybe they got sick of me and went to invisible mode. Or blocked me. Right now, though, I see five people online. They're the same five people as always. I think they're probably like me - signed in through their phones. I only chat with a handful of people on there anymore.
Now Facebook is doing the same thing. I have 536 "friends" on there. I had 537 this morning. I must have pissed someone off. Or, more likely, someone purged their contacts, like I do on occasion. Or maybe they just deleted their account entirely. Whatever. Doesn't matter. The phenomenon remains intact - fewer people are updating their statuses. Granted, there are still a ton of people updating their stuff. Just not as many. I've seen more than a few "friends" say they needed a break from Facebook. Or that they were just giving it up entirely. Bully for them.
So, this whole Google+ thing - is anyone doing it? I have it. I don't really use it, though.
Of course, that's what I said when I first joined Facebook. And Myspace. And AIM. Etc.
So, our means of communicating with one another - are they only as good as their last iteration? IRC and ICQ barely evolved at all. Friendster lost ground when MySpace took what they were doing and did it better. And then Facebook totally blew MySpace out of the water. I think Facebook's dominance can be credited to the same force that made Cartman's theme park so popular in South Park - he only let a few people in. Before opening the gates to everyone, Facebook was for college kids only. And then it opened the gates a little wider for faculty and staff. That's how I got in. Then they started letting high schoolers in. And now any old carbon blob with an email address can join. Now nearly 10% of the planet is on Facebook.
So, will Google+ leave Facebook in the dust?
And what about us bloggers? Even those of us who have kept a domain for eight years and may only update a handful of times in any given 12 month span, and who probably have zero readers anyway... What about us?
I guess I'll just have to start tweeting about everything.
Did anyone actually read this far? Leave a comment if you did.
I've only posted two other times this year. And that is a pretty accurate summary of my life. There's not a lot going on that's worth writing about - at least not from my perspective.
I have noticed a social media usage pattern lately. Well, not lately, but I guess it's mostly just occurring to me now.
Back when I used IRC, there was a beginning, middle, and end to my usage. And with each of those stages came a corresponding number of my friends who also used it. In the beginning, there were a good number of people there, but not a ton. The middle featured a ton of people I knew, all in one place, all chatting. Eventually, though, it dwindled down to just a handful.
Then I moved to ICQ. The same thing happened - a few people, a ton of people, a handful, and then none whatsoever.
There was a brief flirtation with Yahoo Messenger due to Truman's IT policies, which prohibited ICQ due to a security issue. Same thing - a few people, a bunch of people, and then no one.
Then came AOL Instant Messenger (a.k.a., AIM) - the same thing. A few people, a metric crap load of people, and now there are none. I mean, I'm sure they're out there, but they're not people I know.
Then there was MySpace. Granted, this was a whole new animal - social networking, not just chatting. The same thing happened. My network was small, then ridiculously large (about 300 people at one point, with maybe 1/2 of them posting regularly), and then it fizzled out. Now it's a digital ghost town, inhabited only by those who can only be described as marginally civilized. You know, that junkie cousin everyone has, whose profile is filled with animated gifs of marijuana leaves and spam comments from shitty rappers. Note: if you don't have a cousin like that, look in the mirror. You ARE that cousin. Although if you've read this far, I'm going to go ahead and assume you're not that person. Myspace is not a place inhabited by those with long attention spans.
Oh, wait - I had Friendster for like a month before I got on MySpace. I totally forgot about that. Ha. Apparently it's still big in Asia? Who knows? Who cares.
Chatting didn't go away, though. Google Talk has had a much longer lifespan, I have to admit. I've been using it for a good while. Ever since it came out, honestly. Of course, this started out more slowly than other forms of communication. And it never had huge numbers, but they were solid. I'd easily have 15 people online at any given time. But then people just stopped coming online so much. Or maybe they got sick of me and went to invisible mode. Or blocked me. Right now, though, I see five people online. They're the same five people as always. I think they're probably like me - signed in through their phones. I only chat with a handful of people on there anymore.
Now Facebook is doing the same thing. I have 536 "friends" on there. I had 537 this morning. I must have pissed someone off. Or, more likely, someone purged their contacts, like I do on occasion. Or maybe they just deleted their account entirely. Whatever. Doesn't matter. The phenomenon remains intact - fewer people are updating their statuses. Granted, there are still a ton of people updating their stuff. Just not as many. I've seen more than a few "friends" say they needed a break from Facebook. Or that they were just giving it up entirely. Bully for them.
So, this whole Google+ thing - is anyone doing it? I have it. I don't really use it, though.
Of course, that's what I said when I first joined Facebook. And Myspace. And AIM. Etc.
So, our means of communicating with one another - are they only as good as their last iteration? IRC and ICQ barely evolved at all. Friendster lost ground when MySpace took what they were doing and did it better. And then Facebook totally blew MySpace out of the water. I think Facebook's dominance can be credited to the same force that made Cartman's theme park so popular in South Park - he only let a few people in. Before opening the gates to everyone, Facebook was for college kids only. And then it opened the gates a little wider for faculty and staff. That's how I got in. Then they started letting high schoolers in. And now any old carbon blob with an email address can join. Now nearly 10% of the planet is on Facebook.
So, will Google+ leave Facebook in the dust?
And what about us bloggers? Even those of us who have kept a domain for eight years and may only update a handful of times in any given 12 month span, and who probably have zero readers anyway... What about us?
I guess I'll just have to start tweeting about everything.
Did anyone actually read this far? Leave a comment if you did.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Summer Daze
This time of year is always kind of strange for me.
Things at work slow down to a snail's pace. I spend a lot of time mowing lawns. I sweat a lot, due to my truck's a/c not working. And I think about my dad.
For those of you keeping score, this June 24th will mark six years since Dad died. It seems like not that long ago at all, yet when I look at how much I've changed since then, it seems like an eternity.
But really, it's just six years.
And I miss him. Of course I miss him. And while I would give anything for just another day with him, I'm thankful for the experiences I've had (some unpleasant and involuntary) that may not have happened, had he still been here.
My Uncle Bob and I (Dad's youngest brother) never would have built that pair of awesome Adirondack chairs on my patio. I probably wouldn't own a house. I most likely wouldn't have moved away from Pacific. I wouldn't have taught myself to do things like replace a light fixture or a thermostat. There's a good chance I may not have even applied for the job that eventually became the one I have today.
I definitely never would have adopted Sasha, now my mother's best friend. And I wouldn't have had two wonderful years with Doc - nor would I have shed so many tears over him when I had to put him down.
Through experiencing my father's sickness and death, I was forced to finally grow up and admit that I'm an adult now.
And I'm a better person for it.
I may have mentioned this before, but Dad wasn't an overly sentimental person. Nor did he spout off fatherly advice as a culmination to whatever problem I was having that week. That's the stuff of sitcoms. Nobody's dad does that.
Dad did once tell me something that has stuck with me, though.
During a particularly rough patch right after I graduated from college, he told me that life is a road, and there are going to be potholes in that road, but you have to just keep driving, because if you don't, you won't get anywhere.
It was a rare nugget of brilliance, shared with me over greasy burgers on a Tuesday night at Steak 'n Shake.
And he was right. Things have gotten better.
Don't get me wrong, I still have my fair share of challenges. But they're different challenges. These are challenges I wouldn't have faced had I not moved past the earlier ones. And when things seem overwhelming, I just think of what he told me, and think about how much better my life is now - struggles and all - than it was on that Tuesday night.
So, this Sunday, if your dad is still around, be sure to give him a call. You never know when the day will come when such a simple act is impossible.
Things at work slow down to a snail's pace. I spend a lot of time mowing lawns. I sweat a lot, due to my truck's a/c not working. And I think about my dad.
For those of you keeping score, this June 24th will mark six years since Dad died. It seems like not that long ago at all, yet when I look at how much I've changed since then, it seems like an eternity.
But really, it's just six years.
And I miss him. Of course I miss him. And while I would give anything for just another day with him, I'm thankful for the experiences I've had (some unpleasant and involuntary) that may not have happened, had he still been here.
My Uncle Bob and I (Dad's youngest brother) never would have built that pair of awesome Adirondack chairs on my patio. I probably wouldn't own a house. I most likely wouldn't have moved away from Pacific. I wouldn't have taught myself to do things like replace a light fixture or a thermostat. There's a good chance I may not have even applied for the job that eventually became the one I have today.
I definitely never would have adopted Sasha, now my mother's best friend. And I wouldn't have had two wonderful years with Doc - nor would I have shed so many tears over him when I had to put him down.
Through experiencing my father's sickness and death, I was forced to finally grow up and admit that I'm an adult now.
And I'm a better person for it.
I may have mentioned this before, but Dad wasn't an overly sentimental person. Nor did he spout off fatherly advice as a culmination to whatever problem I was having that week. That's the stuff of sitcoms. Nobody's dad does that.
Dad did once tell me something that has stuck with me, though.
During a particularly rough patch right after I graduated from college, he told me that life is a road, and there are going to be potholes in that road, but you have to just keep driving, because if you don't, you won't get anywhere.
It was a rare nugget of brilliance, shared with me over greasy burgers on a Tuesday night at Steak 'n Shake.
And he was right. Things have gotten better.
Don't get me wrong, I still have my fair share of challenges. But they're different challenges. These are challenges I wouldn't have faced had I not moved past the earlier ones. And when things seem overwhelming, I just think of what he told me, and think about how much better my life is now - struggles and all - than it was on that Tuesday night.
So, this Sunday, if your dad is still around, be sure to give him a call. You never know when the day will come when such a simple act is impossible.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
A very important message from The Bob.
Hi everyone. I know I haven't done a very good job of keeping this blog updated, but sometimes life just sort of gets in the way, and little things like blogging get pushed to the back burner, then pushed to a farther-back burner, and then they fall off the stove top entirely.
However, a very important issue has given me a reason to pull that hypothetical oven away from the wall and pull a greasy, dusty morsel out from its dark hiding place.
As any of you who are long-time readers will know, when I was in college, I joined a fraternity. Specifically, the Theta Rho chapter of Alpha Tau Omega at Truman State University.
After three semesters at Truman, I didn't have much of a reason to stick around. I had a few friends, but I had other friends at other schools (like Mizzou) and when I wasn't reading or writing papers for my classes, I was researching transfer requirements with a move to Columbia planned in the not-too-distant future. Truman just wasn't the place for me. I didn't fit in. I didn't have a place I could go and just be myself. Surely at a school as big as Mizzou, I could find some sort of niche - somewhere to belong.
When Andy Roberts, a Chem 100 lab partner who would eventually become my big brother, suggested I come hang out with this group of guys he was running around with, I took a chance. It remains one of the best decisions I've ever made.
Being an ATO taught me (unintentionally) about so much that wasn't covered in the classroom. ATO taught me that respect is earned, not given. It taught me the importance of being there for each other in good times and in bad. While many people may have just seen ATO as a place with weirdos who had awesome theme parties (party in the pants, anyone?), what was less obvious was that these guys were there for me, no matter what.
When I turned 21 on a Monday night in October of 2000, it was Matt Haggans who got up from a really great Monday Night Football game and bought me my first legal beer - a pint of Guinness.
Two nights after that, while I was still drunk, it was a group of ATOs who convinced me to go to an AGD date dash at the local roller rink. The AGD who was my date that evening is still my friend today, even though I hadn't the slightest idea how to skate.
When I had nothing better to do on an Easter Sunday in Kirksville, Andy Stevenson and Dan Newcomb dragged me (and a case of beer) out to Hazel Creek to go fishing.
When I needed help with trigonometry and statistics, Cameron Moore came over to help me salvage my academic career.
When I needed people to act in a short film that served as my senior thesis, Joe Moccia and John Becker had starring roles.
And when I presented that not-suitable-for-any-audience film to a panel of faculty members, even more ATOs filled the audience and cheered wildly at the appropriate times.
When I decided that I wanted to work at the campus radio station, my little brother, Zach Lechner, sat in with me during my first shift. He made sure I didn't break any FCC rules and played all the right spots at the right times.
We had a lot of great fun, but my ATO brothers were also there for me in not-so-good times.
When one of my fellow SAs went missing, my brothers were there for me. And when the worst possible outcome - suicide - became a reality, the news was broken to me by Paul Stock, who, even though there was a really great party happening at the house that night, took the time to sit with me, talk with me, and make sure I was okay.
When I was totally burned out from being an SA and had absolutely no motivation to do anything at all, I quit my job on campus and moved in with Aaron Baker, Heath Coles, John Klein, and Joe Moccia. They helped me get my life back on track by being positive influences. Cheesy as it sounds, it's totally true.
When I finally did graduate, I was part of a group I like to call the unlikely trifecta: myself, Matt Cowan, and Joe Ruth. While I can't speak for Matt, I know Joe and I definitely struggled to graduate. And we did it - together.
After graduation, when my dad's health was in decline, it was Jay Peterson who kept me company on the phone during my long drives to and from the hospital. When my dad died, one of the lowest points of my life, Harry Harris and Phil Spear were there for me at the visitation and funeral. And within a few days, a card arrived - signed by everyone who was working at the house one weekend. They had taken the time to organize their efforts and purchase, sign, and mail me a sympathy card. Anyone who knows my brothers knows what a huge achievement this is.
And a few months later, Brian Dale and Harry Harris helped me acquire my current job.
These are just a few examples of what ATO has meant to me, and what it continues to mean to me. And I know that many of you who read this blog also have fond memories of that house on Mulanix Street, and the nutjobs who lived there.
That's why I'm writing this - the house needs a sprinkler system. And because we're a relatively young chapter (only 32 years old), we don't have a ton of money sitting around. So we're asking you to consider donating to our cause.
It doesn't have to be much. Every little bit helps.
If you've ever dated an ATO, loved an ATO, or had a good time at an ATO party, please consider helping us.
What happens if we can't raise the money? Well, there's a very real chance the chapter could cease to exist, as the requirement for a sprinkler system is one that has been imposed on us by the national organization, and failure to comply could result in the revocation of our charter.
So please, give us a few bucks so future generations of Truman students can have their own ATO memories.
Thanks.
However, a very important issue has given me a reason to pull that hypothetical oven away from the wall and pull a greasy, dusty morsel out from its dark hiding place.
As any of you who are long-time readers will know, when I was in college, I joined a fraternity. Specifically, the Theta Rho chapter of Alpha Tau Omega at Truman State University.
After three semesters at Truman, I didn't have much of a reason to stick around. I had a few friends, but I had other friends at other schools (like Mizzou) and when I wasn't reading or writing papers for my classes, I was researching transfer requirements with a move to Columbia planned in the not-too-distant future. Truman just wasn't the place for me. I didn't fit in. I didn't have a place I could go and just be myself. Surely at a school as big as Mizzou, I could find some sort of niche - somewhere to belong.
When Andy Roberts, a Chem 100 lab partner who would eventually become my big brother, suggested I come hang out with this group of guys he was running around with, I took a chance. It remains one of the best decisions I've ever made.
Being an ATO taught me (unintentionally) about so much that wasn't covered in the classroom. ATO taught me that respect is earned, not given. It taught me the importance of being there for each other in good times and in bad. While many people may have just seen ATO as a place with weirdos who had awesome theme parties (party in the pants, anyone?), what was less obvious was that these guys were there for me, no matter what.
When I turned 21 on a Monday night in October of 2000, it was Matt Haggans who got up from a really great Monday Night Football game and bought me my first legal beer - a pint of Guinness.
Two nights after that, while I was still drunk, it was a group of ATOs who convinced me to go to an AGD date dash at the local roller rink. The AGD who was my date that evening is still my friend today, even though I hadn't the slightest idea how to skate.
When I had nothing better to do on an Easter Sunday in Kirksville, Andy Stevenson and Dan Newcomb dragged me (and a case of beer) out to Hazel Creek to go fishing.
When I needed help with trigonometry and statistics, Cameron Moore came over to help me salvage my academic career.
When I needed people to act in a short film that served as my senior thesis, Joe Moccia and John Becker had starring roles.
And when I presented that not-suitable-for-any-audience film to a panel of faculty members, even more ATOs filled the audience and cheered wildly at the appropriate times.
When I decided that I wanted to work at the campus radio station, my little brother, Zach Lechner, sat in with me during my first shift. He made sure I didn't break any FCC rules and played all the right spots at the right times.
We had a lot of great fun, but my ATO brothers were also there for me in not-so-good times.
When one of my fellow SAs went missing, my brothers were there for me. And when the worst possible outcome - suicide - became a reality, the news was broken to me by Paul Stock, who, even though there was a really great party happening at the house that night, took the time to sit with me, talk with me, and make sure I was okay.
When I was totally burned out from being an SA and had absolutely no motivation to do anything at all, I quit my job on campus and moved in with Aaron Baker, Heath Coles, John Klein, and Joe Moccia. They helped me get my life back on track by being positive influences. Cheesy as it sounds, it's totally true.
When I finally did graduate, I was part of a group I like to call the unlikely trifecta: myself, Matt Cowan, and Joe Ruth. While I can't speak for Matt, I know Joe and I definitely struggled to graduate. And we did it - together.
After graduation, when my dad's health was in decline, it was Jay Peterson who kept me company on the phone during my long drives to and from the hospital. When my dad died, one of the lowest points of my life, Harry Harris and Phil Spear were there for me at the visitation and funeral. And within a few days, a card arrived - signed by everyone who was working at the house one weekend. They had taken the time to organize their efforts and purchase, sign, and mail me a sympathy card. Anyone who knows my brothers knows what a huge achievement this is.
And a few months later, Brian Dale and Harry Harris helped me acquire my current job.
These are just a few examples of what ATO has meant to me, and what it continues to mean to me. And I know that many of you who read this blog also have fond memories of that house on Mulanix Street, and the nutjobs who lived there.
That's why I'm writing this - the house needs a sprinkler system. And because we're a relatively young chapter (only 32 years old), we don't have a ton of money sitting around. So we're asking you to consider donating to our cause.
It doesn't have to be much. Every little bit helps.
If you've ever dated an ATO, loved an ATO, or had a good time at an ATO party, please consider helping us.
What happens if we can't raise the money? Well, there's a very real chance the chapter could cease to exist, as the requirement for a sprinkler system is one that has been imposed on us by the national organization, and failure to comply could result in the revocation of our charter.
So please, give us a few bucks so future generations of Truman students can have their own ATO memories.
Thanks.
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