Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
On Holiday
The Monday holiday of Labor Day is upon us in the USA, and in honor of it, I will do no laboring. I will miss the morning soccer match since I am still out of town. I will be giving the hammock a workout, instead.
Still looks like summer up here by the flowers...
Twice this weekend, a situation occurred that involved someone being gone longer than expected, and the question of whether to be concerned, or not, arose. I tend to a default of ‘delays’ not being a reason to become concerned, even though I may be considering it a possibility. I have no idea how to determine when would be the appropriate time to become concerned. If, indeed, the delay was due to an accident or mishap that deserved assistance, I would look pretty bad for my lackadaisical attitude and lack of timely reaction. But maybe that’s just a chance I tend to take.
In both cases this weekend, there was no reason to be concerned. A little phone call to report a delay in schedule is a wonderful thing to do for those who may be waiting on you. In the mean time, until I finally get burned for my tendency not to over-react when someone is taking longer than expected, I will avoid worrying about these kinds of situations.
Don’t be concerned about us today. We will be home in time to make it to work again, by tomorrow.
Strange Days
During the past week at work, I had 2 interesting experiences. The first one served to reveal, first-hand, the struggle for employment that the current economic situation has forced on people. A woman walked in to our suite and asked if we had any openings. I informed her that we had none and she politely pleaded with me that she will do ANYTHING, offering cleaning as an example. She presented herself with a dignified desperation and admitted that she has resorted to going door to door seeking work because nothing else has proved successful for her. All I could offer was my sympathy and wishes of luck.
The second experience also involved a woman walking into our suite. She came in to report a lock-box on the ground in the parking lot in front of our site, with the keys in it. I stepped out with her and found a plastic case about the size of a large shoe box out in the driving lane. It looked very conspicuous there. The woman wondered if it might be ours. It wasn’t, and I had no ideas where it might have come from, so I decided, since the keys were in it, to open it up for a look, hoping it might offer a clue.
For a split second, the thought occurred to me that this black box might have been placed with nefarious intentions. I questioned myself for the action I was taking and maybe even flinched a bit, but while the woman was still present, I turned the key and lifted the lid. It was completely empty. Nothing but a mystery.
I decided to check with the local police in case someone had reported a loss. I figured it was possible the box was dropped by a thief. A patrol car stopped by and the officer told me they had no reports that appeared related. He took the box for safe keeping, ending my excitement for the day.
All that was left was to hop in the car with Cyndie and head to the lake. It was a beautiful day for a cruise in the convertible and we took our time on the drive, staying just 5 mph over the posted limits, allowing drivers feeling a much greater sense of urgency to ride our bumper until they could rush around our car to get to the one 20 feet ahead of us and ride their bumper. I love cruise control and not needing to be in an anxious haste to move in front of every car ahead of me. I make a better passive-aggressive driver than a blatant aggressor.
Have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac? George Carlin
Unrehearsed
It’s Friday of Labor Day weekend! What’s in it for you? Me, I’m hoping to get on the road before the peak rush-hour crunch and Cyndie and I will head up to our favorite getaway in northern Wisconsin. We’ll take her convertible so my car can rest for the weekend to compose itself after all it went through yesterday at the shop. Turned out that it was the drain plug, after all. They loosened it up a bit and then snugged it back down tight and with that, solved the big leak mystery. I’m a bit embarrassed but had a good laugh with the guys over it. I told them that I didn’t want to have to lay down on my dirty garage floor. That’s what I pay them to do. Except they don’t. Lay down on the floor, that is. They’ve got the fancy lift that puts the car at just the right height. If I had one of those, I would have taken care of the leak myself.
.
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If I could see around the corner
I would tell you what I see
but it wouldn’t really matter
cuz we’re different, you and me
and that memory that I harbor
I have shaped it as I’ve grown
so you wouldn’t even know it
as the one you’d call your own
we’ve gone our separate ways
and our lives are worlds apart
there’s a picture that I cherish
in my mind but from my heart
a collage I built of you
for which you never posed
created for myself
from the you I had supposed
would maybe somehow matter
as I tried to find my way
around my inner corners
and to this light of day
.
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Lung Lessons
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Asth•ma | noun | A respiratory condition marked by spasms in the bronchi of the lungs, causing difficulty in breathing. It usually results from an allergic reaction or other forms of hypersensitivity.
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Way back in December of 2008, I went to my clinic for a physical, to get a doctor’s authorization for my trek in the high altitudes of the Himalayan Mountains of Nepal. I was told, at the time, that I displayed a partial airway obstruction and was then referred to a pulmonary specialist for further diagnosis. It was at the pulmonary clinic that I finally succumbed to the realization that I have an identifiable respiratory condition that falls under the label of asthma. I had been living my life up to that point in unconscious denial. The diagnosis really shocked me. I had never experienced an ‘attack’ of the type I identified as ‘real’ asthma, and never related the noun, asthma, as anything having to do with me. But, in retrospect, I have come to recognize plenty of the simple colds that settled in my lungs as related. Also, there were a few times bronchitis required treatment at the clinic, and plenty of times when I endured prolonged days of intense coughing and deep lung congestion. To me, it was just a cough. I never considered it a version of asthma.
The pulmonary specialist gave me a prescription for two different asthma medications: one to take daily for long-term control of airway inflammation, and then for short-term prevention, a bronchodilator for use prior to intense activity. I began using them right away in hopes of maximizing my chances of avoiding any limitations during the trek, scheduled to occur 4 months later. During that period, I never felt confident that I was able to discern a difference between being on the medications or not. There were periods when I assumed I was benefiting, but at the same time, since they were not dramatic differences, I wondered if I wasn’t just enjoying psychosomatic results. I thought I should do better, so I did do better!
In the end, during my Himalayan trek, I was still greatly limited by my lung condition, despite the treatment. Even though my lungs were compromised, hopefully it was less of a problem than it could have been had I not been using asthma medication. I continued to use the meds for over 3 months after I returned home, but since the results were not entirely clear to me, I eventually tired of the routine and slowly reduced the amount of the long-acting steroid, and then stopped altogether. I didn’t notice a difference.
Until now.
I have come to the conclusion that whatever my ailment is, it is a mild one. I’m a bit frustrated with the prospect of using a daily medication to treat a mild affliction, but given enough time, at least now I have come to recognize the subtle differences that treatment provides. Lately, what has emerged as the most noticeable difference is morning congestion. I have long been aware of the phenomenon that I experience in the mornings, and just assumed that’s the way I’m built. However, after having been off the asthma medications for a while, I have really been noticing the return of morning congestion. It’s the kind of condition which was entirely unnoticed in its absence during the period I was using the medication, but it sure has become obvious now that it has returned again since I stopped.
I’ve learned that there is a lot more to this asthma than just being out of breath. ‘All things lung related’ is a many nuanced topic, indeed.
Time Lag
Did I mention that something appears to be dripping underneath my car? For the record, I am not inclined to bother with looking under the hood of my vehicle (I wouldn’t know what I was looking at) except maybe to fill the windshield washing fluid or access the battery to give someone a jump. And it can be more than a year between such occasions. Decades ago, we used to look under the hood to check the oil level every other time we stopped at a filling station. I gave up on that after about the thousandth time of seeing no change in level. I’ve enjoyed the luxury of driving vehicles that don’t burn or leak oil. Until now, I guess that is.
This current situation snuck up on me when I dropped the car off for service the last time. They changed the oil and did the once-over checks they do (or say they do… how would I know?) whenever they change the oil. The final report was a general clean bill of health, except for one little thing. They found a leak up near the turbo. Something that may take some time to uncover, so it would require a separate appointment. That really gives a person a wonderful feeling, to be given back your car and told it is leaking, but they don’t know from where but go ahead and drive it anyway.
I took it back in right away first thing on the next Monday. Left it with them for the whole day so they could tear it all apart and come up with whatever had gone terribly wrong. They didn’t need the whole day. Turns out it was just a little clamp on a hose that could be replaced with no trouble at all. I was lucky.
Now that I was suddenly hyper-aware of leaks from my car, I finally noticed a bit of a stain that had formed on my garage floor where I park. Being so in control of my man-cave of a garage, all I needed to do was get some of the special floor-dry gravel used to clean up oil spills that every guy stocks in his garage. Yeah, right. I went in the house and got some kitty litter and sprinkled it on the stain. In a couple of days I noticed it was working great and absorbing residue that I figured was already dry. A few more days later, I began to notice there were still some new drops hitting the spot. My vast experience with car ownership has long taught me that once a fluid like oil has leaked under the hood, it can take days to weeks after the leak is stopped, for the stuff that already leaked to make its way down to the low spot to drip on the floor. So, I figured I would give it some time before I run to my service professionals with cries of, “It’s still leaking!”
This is a skill I have honed well. I can ‘give-things-time’ better than just about anything else I do. For some reason, even when I reach the point of deciding, “Uh-oh, better look into that…”, I can still continue to give it plenty of time. I pity the vehicle that waits on me to take action in a timely manner.
But hey, if I can get around to writing about it, I can make the call to my car guys. I now have an appointment for Thursday. We’ll see how my luck holds.
Purposeless Randomosity
Happy September!
Do not expect to find any answers in this post. But feel free to wallow in questions that hold little in the way of purpose…
Why aren’t there weeds in the woods?
Is it possible to yawn during an angry tantrum?
Would rock ‘n’ roll music have evolved if the only instruments that existed to this day were the same ones used in classical orchestral music?
Courtesy my friend David P.: Someday, will there be an implant that allows humans to capture an image that we see through our eyes so we can take pictures without having to dig out our camera?
How would your performance at your day job be affected by having a stadium of 80,000 people watching you and the job limited to 90 minutes to complete, while the spectators cheered and jeered?
How come we still call professional sports, “sport”, when it’s become so much like work for the millionaires participating in it?
How does Lindsey Buckingham, guitarist/singer with the band Fleetwood Mac, elicit all those notes and sounds out of his guitars with that finger picking style at the speeds he does?
Do scientists get embarrassed to release reports of studies they have done that come to conclusions that are absolutely common sense obvious to all the rest of us?
Is anyone surprised when damages from disasters reach higher dollar amounts than ever before?
What if people bought artist’s work while they are still alive instead of waiting until they die?
What would it be like if everyone always smiled a genuine smile, all the time – even when it didn’t feel genuine?
Is it possible to look deeply into someone’s eyes and not really see them?
What would it be like if you had to teach someone how to be you and describe how and why you do everything the way you do?
Being *this* John W. Hays is a lot like being different than just being the same as what it would be like if I were being unlike how it is when I become aware I am being more like what it’s like when I am being like what all the other John W. Hays named individuals would be like were they to suddenly take stock in what being *this* John W. Hays would be like in any other shoes than mine, if you know what I mean.
Tragedy and Comedy
Yesterday, Cyndie and I were reading together from the journals I’ve uncovered that I wrote back when the kids were young. This one elicited the most dramatic response. We both were surprised by it and couldn’t control our laughter for quite a spell, I think partly because it contains a combination of the tragedy and the comedy from that stage.
Jan 10, 1994
Monday : The other day Julian you got angry at me as I tried to rush you to get ready to go with (when you didn’t want to) to take Elysa to tumbling. In your frustration you told me I was the worst dad in the whole world. I stopped and looked at you with sad eyes and you realized what you had said and I think felt bad about the statement being a little too strong. You quickly retracted it and said “no Dad, I mean you’re the worst dad in HALF the world.”
He was 5 years old.
Grocery Shopping
I don’t know how many of you are aware of this, but I am not inclined to venture very far from the most rudimentary of food preparation in a kitchen. Well, food preparation anywhere, truth be told. As a result, I don’t have much of a drive to spend time in a grocery store. However, there are times when it is wise that I be prepared to join my wife, who does spend a large percentage of her precious time in food preparation, on her expeditions to a grocery store, even when it occurs on a beautiful evening… beautiful for doing pretty much anything, except shopping for groceries.
It can be quite a struggle for me. More often than not, I feel as though I become more of a burden, than an assistant to her. Without actually focusing on the significant difference in how we do things, it is more my grappling with the decision process that seems to snarl the event. And I have what I feel is a very valid excuse: there are too many options.
I get overwhelmed with the number of possibilities in a grocery store. Is there someone out there for every variety of item that is displayed on the shelves or is most of that stuff just for show? It becomes sensory overload for me, and my already challenged process of deciding gets taxed to a point of just plain stuck. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter.
“Take that one.”
“I don’t care.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t know.”
Lotta help I am.
Luckily, I am not a very picky eater. She can pretty much make anything she wants and it’ll suit me fine. But I understand her desire for a companion in the effort. Instead, she ends up with more of a cheerleader.
“Great choice, hon!”
“This tastes delicious!”
“I love this food you’ve prepared!”
“Thank you for doing the grocery shopping.”
Thank you, Cyndie.
Seasons Change
In my mind, there is nothing quite like the change of seasons in places like Minnesota that enjoy the full variety of 4 seasons of the year to full extremes. If you stop and think about it, the seasons are in constant change, but it doesn’t seem that way, as we perceive it. To us, it appears to be summer for a while, then it changes into fall, then winter, followed by spring. Bing, bang, boom.
One of the amazing things about the seasons here is how far opposite summer and winter are. When standing in the midst of the most oppressively hot and humid summer day, it is incredibly hard to reconcile that just six short months ago it was a barren deep-freeze outside. I’m always impressed by how short our memories get for that difference. In summer, we hardly think that winter happens in this very same place.
It seems to me, the calendar dates of each season fall in the middle of that particular season, but the designation is, that it starts that day. By June 21st, it feels like it has been summer for weeks. Same for the other 3 seasons. Why not mark the equinox as the middle, not the beginning of one and end of another?
Today, it is feeling very fall-like. I noticed last week, as I left for morning soccer, it has been dark outside, and not long ago I needed my sunglasses on the drive. The hints of change sneak in little by little. 
Now that I think of it, one day last week I noticed the tree outside the building at work had dropped a whole bunch of leaves for some reason and I found myself mentioning as I walked in that it looked like fall out there.
By far, the one change of seasons that is most noticeable is fall. It’s got to be the leaves changing color. There’s always the onset of the football season and the start of a school year that scream of fall, but those have less to do with the weather and more to do with association, due to the coincidence of timing. It is the changing leaves that win fall all the attention.
Fall isn’t far off now. It feels like it is already upon us. The seasons are, indeed, in constant change.
Beautiful Day
Do you know what the perfect day is? It’s easy. They all are! Perfect for something.
Wouldn’t you say that today would be a beautiful day to kick off the State Fair? Mostly sunny, warm but not hot, light summer breeze. Perfect for a picnic, a nap in the hammock, or a walk in the park. But if it were really windy, it would be perfect for kite surfing or sailing. If it were rainy, it would be perfect for snuggling down with a good book. Every day is perfect for something. We just have to frame it properly.
Isn’t it a bit strange that we have it within ourselves to re-frame absolutely everything to change the way it is perceived, yet we usually don’t wield that power to our (and the world’s) advantage? Often times, we simply sell ourselves short. Sometimes, we actually choose not to. Part of us still wants to dwell in the angst, for a plethora of reasons. But there is a part of us that knows. Knows the possibility exists. I think that is related to why folks get into the navel gazing of introspection. We are trying to find it. Deep down, I believe we all know what is possible. That contributes to what frustrates us about times when things aren’t going so well. Somewhere inside us, we know there are simple answers. Too often the solutions being sold involve side effects of dry mouth and constipation and an invitation to see their ad in some magazine while we are watching their ad on television.
Today is a perfect day to see if we can discover our power to find the perfection in every day. It’s in there somewhere.
