Randomness

There doesn't seem to be much news of lasting significance around here these days, so we'll shoot from the hip a little bit and maybe tell a story later on.

We're nearly a month into home ownership, and out of cardboard boxes, for the most part. We've unpacked much, thrown out some, and put some into storage. That's right, we finally have more space than we have stuff to put in it. We had our trivia friends over for food and games last night, so that did lend a sense of urgency to the last few days. We still absolutely love this house, and there's more to be done, but we've traveled a good distance.

I've taken to my front yard just a little bit-- watering every other day, as well as checking to make sure the ant hotels are vacant. It'd just be nice to have a little rain here and there, as it's been pretty dry here the last three weeks. Today I went and bought some Roundup and a weed eater to help with the weed action I've been getting.

I've been back to running four days a week, basically in the same neighborhood. The paved trail is 13 minutes away now, not four. Two weeks ago my mileage was 18, 14.5 last week, and a projected 20 this week. I hope to be near 30 miles most weeks. There needs to be a marathon in my future, but there are some things on the horizon toward the end of the year, making those plans a little murky.

Okay, now story time.

I worked at the radio station in Levelland, Texas for two and a half years-- April 1998-December 2000. News, sports and sales. I was half of the full-time staff. I covered school board and junior college regents meetings, did the crime beat, did newscasts morning noon and evening, sold advertising the best I could. Long hours and there were never enough fingers to put in the holes in the dam, especially when the station manager (who hired me) took a job in Temple ten months after I started. That made me the entire full-time staff.

However, all I ever wanted to do was broadcast games. And this gig offered no shortage of opportunities. I'd done some baseball games the previous spring.

But football is where it's at, and my first game was September of 1998 at Dick Bivins Stadium in Amarillo, Texas. A Saturday afternoon tilt-- LHS against Amarillo Caprock. Several teams in town use the stadium, so if two teams (say, Tascosa and AHS) were at home, one would move their game to Thursday or Saturday. Anyhow, my folks were along, and they were drilling me on the Lobo names and jersey numbers on the two-hour drive north on I-27. I'd been to this stadium many times in the past, as engineer for another network that did games, so the turf was familiar. Assistant principal Mel Gierhart was my sidekick for road games. I remember him bringing up the town of Notrees, Texas (near Midland/Odessa, I think), though I forget the context. Likely something to do with game travel. But my mother, who always travels with a full pack, broke out her trusty map of Texas and found it. Yeah-- it's pretty remarkable what sticks in your head 13 years later.

I was still learning my craft, so my game performance is up for debate, but I do remember Levelland winning my first game, 32-13.

Following the game, we got back into the company car-- a Dodge Neon, and headed south for the Texas Tech-UTEP game, scheduled for that night in Lubbock. The first half went OK, but the game overall was not a good one for my guys, as my alma mater beat my favorite team on the planet. Tech 35, UTEP 3.

There were three seasons of Lobo football for me, and this was the first. The win over Caprock got the seaosn off to a good start.

Sweet Baby James

The El Paso Diablos minor-league baseball team and I go way back. Dad, Robert and I would go to two or three games a year at that old crackerbox Dudley Field, right next to the city zoo. The park was so small, pitchers’ ERAs came to El Paso to die every year. Robert and I would stalk the ice cream stand for whatever helmet we needed… And we’d watch the baseballs fly out of the park and watch old Texaco scoreboard light up. Great times, to be sure.

Anyhow, Paul Strelzin was the public address announcer for a lot of years. A legendary voice in El Paso for decades, but he also had a way with ruffling feathers. He’d nickname the players every year-- right about the time when Chris Berman at ESPN went places with his nickname shtick. Daryl ‘Jaws’ Sconiers, 'Chilly' Willie Lozado and Bill ‘Shotgun’ Schroeder were just a few of the players we watched pass through town every summer.

In 1982, Dion James was our center fielder, a player who found success with the Brewers, Braves, Yankees and Indians. Strelzin dubbed him Dion ‘Sweet Baby’ James. I’m not quite 11 years old at this time, so I have no idea what this means or where it comes from.

It’s not until a few decades later that my rudimentary music knowledge tells me that Strelzin must have been a James Taylor fan, since it’s the title of what’s become my favorite JT song. He played in the second set of his show in Birmingham Tuesday night, a show which the First Lady and I were delighted to attend. He’s in his mid-60s, still tours and still obviously loves what he does. He basically sang the same songs he’s been singing for the last 40 or so years, but they were sung with a passion and with heart. We truly enjoyed every note of every song.

But the concert was the perfect cap to a perfect day the wife and I spent in the Magic City. I started the day mowing my lawn for the first time with our brand-new rotary mower. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t so awesome, but it’s a new thing for me. We headed into town and grabbed lunch in the Five Points district, at a restaurant called 26 Twenty-Six. The décor was a 1960s meets The Jetsons motif.

But the food was great—I had Carolina barbecue pork with macaroni and cheese on top. The pork was very sweet, and it was complemented perfectly by the mac and cheese. It was the kind of meal you don’t want to eat, because it’ll be over soon. We also split a chocolate chip ice cream cookie, served open face. Homemade ice cream and a delicious cookie. Definitely a meal to remember.

We spent the balance of the afternoon shopping and browsing for items to furnish our new home. We managed to pick up some dishes and other accessories, as well as get a few ideas together for the long-term plan.

Five Points hosted our pregame meal, a Tex-Mex place called Fuego. We took advantage of half-priced margaritas and two-dollar tacos on Tuesdays. Another excellent choice, since we’re both used to the homogeneous Mexican food restaurants that seem to be everywhere.

After we eat and drink, it’s off to the show, and our first trip to the Birmingham-Jefferson Convention Center. We both noticed that most of the crowd seemed to be our age, though there were a few pups in attendance. Great music sung and performed by people who care about the music.

Cardboard City

We are at the close of another week-- moving week for the wife and me. We moved out of our second-floor apartment and into a really nice three-bedroom home about a mile and a half away.

So Sunday, Monday and Tuesday were big packing and moving days, and I spent those days off from work. You never realize just how much crap you have until you start to put it into boxes. So a little bit during the week prior, and some on Sunday, then Monday and Tuesday were hard-core. Starting at 7:45 Monday and at 7 Tuesday, we loaded our lives into cardboard boxes and plastic storage bins. The springtime weather in Alabama actually cooperated and provided temps in the 70s, unlike some of those Texas summertime moves, when the mercury really got up there. The only time we really stopped was to play semi-final trivia with our friends Monday night (we advanced to the finals, btw).

The movers arrived Tuesday morning and started hauling and loading as we packed out the kitchen and living room. By 3 pm, most of what we own had been transported. Strange thing is, we had everything done by 5 pm. Cable guy stopped by on time, as did the delivery types with our brand-spanking new king-size bed. Clockwork. The most important things got covered that evening-- putting the entertainment center together, as well as rigging cable TV and our wireless Internet.

So the last several days have been spent unpacking boxes and sorting their contents, deciding where things should go, and figuring out what all we need. Stuff like trash cans, watering hoses, a mailbox and stuff for the ant beds in the front yard. There will be more to be sure, but we love our new home. We'll get more stuff unpacked as the weeks go by. It's a great problem to have.

Character Flaws

I don't do confrontation well and I don't stand up for myself.

I'll avoid making a scene or getting into arguments at all costs. Unfortunately, it doesn't always work out. And when it doesn't, I sit and simmer and ponder and think about the whole thing. The things I wish I'd said. The possible scenarios-- how things could have played out. What would've happened if I'd done/said X. How I feel I'd have to watch my back if I did stand up.

Our society seems to thrive on conflict. Not constructive conflict that makes our world a better place, but silly, meaningless Jerry Springer-type stuff. I don't even do conflict on TV well. Conflict scenes in shows or movies? Can't do 'em. I guess I put myself in the position of the oppressed. Perhaps it has something to do with being in that position many times in the past.

Spending time dwelling on negative things is not healthy. I tense up and my temples tighten and I'm sure my blood pressure spikes. Not to mention the positive things or productive things or 'advance the ball' things I need to be focusing on. The negatives are all I can think about.

It's part of the ride-- you spend time around people and there will be differences. I understand that. It's the dealing I have trouble with. Even with things that happened 25 years ago. Even with something as small and trivial as what's in my head tonight.

So in the absence of coherent and organized thoughts, maybe getting this out in the open will be a catharsis somehow and help me figure things out.

Back to Work

Following last Wednesday's tornado, I had four consecutive days off. There was no work, since there was no way to get to the running store. The First Lady and I have spent some time volunteering at our church, though we both admit we can do more. There will be chances for us to pitch in.

But Monday, I went back to the store I started at-- basketball and children's shoes. Relearning where things are, since the stockroom had been reorganized. Though the two store are owned by the same people, working at each is vastly different. Pulled three shifts there-- Tuesday and Wednesday as well.

This morning, I opened the running store-- my first time back since about 3:45 the previous Wednesday afternoon. My first time going south of the campus since that storm cut a swath through my state and my city. Intersections were unrecognizable, vans on the wrong side of the street from the not-there-anymore restaurant, fractions and splinters of trees still standing, gas stations blown away... It was all amazing, in a way. That one single event could do this much damage.

But I also saw things to be encouraged by-- construction types and clean up crews on the job at 8:45 (though I'm sure they'd been there a while already), a major laundry detergent company setting up its free washing machines, battery companies setting things up, and more. People moving forward.

Elsewhere in the news...

I'm starting to get back into the running groove, after a minor injury. It's difficult to start back up after a break. Something about an object at rest tending to remain at rest. Working our way back slowly.

And the tornado also brought my spring semester at UA to a screeching halt. I had an accounting assignment due the next day, and a test scheduled this past Monday. Both were canceled, with students choosing to take the final or take their grade as of April 27. So after much gnashing of teeth, I took my B in Intro to Accounting and ran. And I'm also not giving up on this as a potential career path.

One Was Too Many

Wednesday, April 27 started with a bang. Loud thunder and a lot of lightning roused us from a cold sleep about 5 am. An hour and a half later, I woke up, sent my dear wife off to work and went out for a short 3.5 mile run. It was a nice morning-- just a little breeze a little humidity. My right Achilles had been bothering me (due to overtraining) and I was just starting to work my way back into shape. I also took note of power crews that were already out at 9 am cleaning up after the storm.

I then cleaned up and headed off to our prospective new home for final walk through, after which I headed off to The Athlete’s Foot in Midtown Village for my 12-4 shift. I passed through the intersection of McFarland and 15th street as I hit McDonalds. Since I’m starting to run up against time, I hit the drive through and head to work.

Now we’d known that the day would be eventful from a weather perspective, because of the advance warnings that technology gives us. We’d heard about the havoc this system caused in Arkansas, so it was hard to stay focused. Get a little work done, look at the radar. Work, radar. The wind started to blow more intently. Finally, the radio station we listen to ran EAS tones, signifying the start of the weather situation for the state of Alabama. My blood ran a little cold. Tuscaloosa had a brief tornado hit the southern parts of town a few weeks earlier, and we considered ourselves lucky.

About 3:15, the boss called. We discussed the situation, and he said he’d call back. Our stores will shut down if the weather’s nasty. Happened a few times back in December, with winter weather. A few minutes later, I got instructions to close the store. About 3:35, we’re out of there. My coworker Chris and I have no idea what’s coming. Just that there’s a southwest-to-northeast flow to these storms, and they seem to be gaining strength.


So I start home by turning onto McFarland from 15th street. The same intersection I used nearly four hours earlier. I call Ann, who is headed for a basement on campus at the University of Alabama. She asks me to join her. I readily agree. She is my wife and I want to be with her, but the place we’ll be is much safer than the second-floor bathroom in our apartment. I drive in on University Boulevard and notice that a giant tree has fallen on some power lines in front of a frat house that is under construction. Crews are on the scene. It’s close to 4 pm. Some traffic lights are still out, traffic is a little slow and I’m getting a little anxious, so I turn left onto Hackberry, in front of Canterbury Chapel, where we worship. I see college kids in flip flops, shorts and ball caps returning from class, at a somewhat leisurely pace. Meanwhile, the TV weatherman simulcasting on the car radio is not mincing words in saying that he hasn’t seen a storm like this in the 32 years he’s been on the job. Most times, they deliberately speak clearly and calmly so as not to alarm people unnecessarily. Not this time. James Spann is very stern in his warnings in that this storm has the chance to make history. The students I see seem to have no sense of urgency. I am incredulous.

I get parked and go meet my wife and we hunker down in the basement in Doster Hall at the University of Alabama, literally across the street from Bryant-Denny Stadium, where the Crimson Tide plays football. It’s a touch after 4 pm. We are happy to be together as we are joined by about ten other people, mostly students. It’s a pretty loose environment—we’re watching Spann online and we see the storm stay together and start to take aim on Tuscaloosa. More students join us, upping the total to about 25. We hear warnings on the campus-wide intercom—the first two or three tell of a tornado warning. The next… says a tornado is heading toward campus. The weatherman says it could be headed for the stadium. Swell. The vibe in the room becomes more serious. Then the lights go out, and along with the power, the intercom system is done. Ann and I start to hold hands. A few minutes later, we lose the wi-fi connection. So we’re literally in the dark and have no way of knowing what’s happening. Faces in the room are lit up as people use their phones to find out what’s going on.

Last word we had before wi-fi went out was that the tornado warning expired at 5:45. About six, we’re able to learn that the coast is evidently clear. We start to poke our heads outside and decide to head home. Though we have two cars, Ann and I go home together. On our way to the car, three students start to fill us in on what went down. The hospital and 15th street are torn up. The gravity of the situation creeps in. The store I left a few hours earlier is a half-mile away from sheer, complete and utter destruction. And there’s plenty of it.

We know not to go back up University, so we go home through downtown. All we see are some power outages and some small branches in the street. We get home to find out that we have electricity but not cable TV or Internet. But we do have our phones, and we do the Facebook and Twitter thing, telling the world of our safety, and starting to learn what happened, and the true gravity of the situation. This monster missed us by about 500 yards. Way too close for comfort.

We see pictures and some video. People dying. Widespread serious damage. Buildings demolished kind of damage. Serious damage to the McDonalds where I got my lunch. The tornado seemed to head east on 15th street. Restaurants and strip malls do not exist anymore. Places where we’ve eaten. The intersection I drove through twice earlier in the day is unrecognizable. I contact a few coworkers at the running store and learn of their safety. So we park on the couch and try to unwind and process.

Now Wednesday night is trivia night, and we initially decide we don’t want to go—the situation is too serious. However, we start to think that human contact is needed. Since the outage hit the bar where we play, we go to the store for provisions. Our friends call and invite us to their place for a spell. Salt of the earth, these friends of ours. We bring beer and pizza and crank the oven and at about 7:30 start to think about supper, when someone knocks at their door.

It’s a man and his wife and about six-year-old daughter. They can’t get to their home or car because of tornado damage, and got a ride to the neighborhood thinking they had some help lined up. When said help wasn’t home, they came here. The four of us don’t know who these people are—it could be anyone. But our friends did not hesitate to let them in. The man was trying to get in touch with his mother a little further up the road so they’d have a place to spend the night. I’m ashamed to say I spent a lot of the time in or near the kitchen, frightened of people I don’t know and what they might want. But my wife and my friends showed them much kindness, sharing our food and drinks and offering fellowship. Eventually, I warmed up and joined the crowd.

The gentleman contacted relatives, and soon, they were on their way. I wonder what kind of courage it took for him to knock on the door. He doesn’t know who’s on the other side, whether they’ll even be willing to help. So the four of us go on with our evening. And as we thought, we needed our friends. It was good for us. But this episode was very powerful for me—watching my friends display the love of Christ without hesitation.

About 11 that night, we went home to further decompress. Hanging out on Tweetdeck, and spending more time learning from the outside world what happened in my own backyard. An hour and a half later, Ann and I went to bed, becoming more and more thankful. We had each other, our health, and the tornado stayed south of the river. Nothing we own was damaged. But life as we know it will never be the same.

I find myself drawing parallels to the ice storm that hit Kansas in December 2007. Nasty stuff. Power outages, trees snapping in two under the weight of the ice, and ice-covered roads. My apartment had no issues. Heater worked, I had power and hot water and my automatic coffee maker came on every morning. I had it easy compared to folks who went to the armory for a shower. We have it pretty easy now, as well.

Playoff Hockey

Everyone seems to think that the NBA and NHL playoffs take too long. And in the case of hoops, I tend to agree. I'm not a real big NBA fan. But I do enjoy watching the NHL playoffs. I'm no expert, but I enjoy the intensity of two teams slugging it out for an entire best-of-seven series and shaking every hand of every opponent at series end.

The genesis of my love for hockey comes from the den in my childhood home in El Paso, from my living room in Levelland, and elsewhere along the way. ESPN was my only outlet for NHL in the mid-1980s, and they'd show every minute of every three and four-overtime playoff game. It didn't matter which teams played-- I couldn't get enough as a teenager. If we had company, I'd go be sociable with guests (and stay out of trouble) during the intermissions and then go back when play resumed. I found myself drawn to the desperation with which the two sides played. One goal. Sudden death. Somebody's season ends tonight.

I found myself drawn to the Calgary Flames in those days. I respect the hell out of Wayne Gretzky and those great Oilers teams, but I liked that Calgary seemingly gave as good as they got. The Cs even hoisted the Stanley Cup in Montreal in 1986, which is a big thing, given Montreal's tradition.

In Levelland in the late 1990s, The Dallas Stars were really good, after coming south from Minnesota. My good friend Sean and I would watch the game, he from his living room and I from mine. When the Stars scored, my phone would ring. I knew who it was, and as soon as I picked up the phone, I'd mimic the sound of the 'goal' foghorn, which Sean joined in on.

And living in Clay Center, I followed the Flames making it all the way to the Cup Finals in 2004, losing to Tampa Bay. I recorded game seven and watched it when I got home from church league softball.

So, needless to say, I love watching playoff hockey, and the stories and memories that are created. And my dear wife has been very patient as my hockey Jones is sated.