Wednesday, June 28, 2006
The Car I Am
My last post showed the car I would like to be. However, it is not the car I would like to own. I really would like a 1970 Plymouth 'Cuda with a 440 cid under the hood.Oh, well!?
Below is what the website about 'sports cars' said my personality was really like. Enjoy!
Webb
Ok, . . . . I like cars.
I'm a Mazda RX-8!
You're sporty, yet practical, and you have a style of your own. You like to have fun, and you like to bring friends along for the ride, but when it comes time for everyday chores, you're willing to do your part.
http://www.tomorrowland.us/sportscar
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
I wanna be this car
I'm a Ferrari 360 Modena!
You've got it all. Power, passion, precision, and style. You're sensuous, exotic, and temperamental. Sure, you're expensive and high-maintenance, but you're worth it.
Take the "Which sports car are you?" quiz.
http://www.tomorrowland.us/sportscar
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Them vs. Us
Be careful in revising those immigration laws of yours.We got careless with ours. Advice given to Herbert Humphrey by an American Indian from New Mexico
Monday, June 12, 2006
Two Wheel Divine Intervention
It was clear when the day started. Now it was about 2:00 a.m. and it hand rained much of the day, hard. The lights on my motorcycle were barely coping with the cold, wet darkness. So dark that I nearly ran into the back of a car parked -- unlit – barely off the side of the road. My first reaction was “Dumb Ass!” I was an angry young man back then and I didn't care for idiots.
A hundred yards up the road I suddenly felt the need to go back and check on the car. At the next intersection I turned and rode back.
A family of four and camping gear were tightly packed into the Chevy. The Dad climbed out into my headlight beam. Apparently they had hit a deep puddle which flooded their distributor and carburetor, and the battery was too tired to work the lights without the engine running. Just a poor family returning from a day trip adventure
So there we were. A fairly self-sufficient biker with limited car knowledge at all, but a saddlebag full of tools. And a man who was undoubtedly a good Dad but admitted to being "totally useless with engines and stuff."
A seemingly impossible situation. Then along came another biker who turned out to be a local mechanic -- with an absolute minimal tool kit on his own bike.
He asked the Dad a few questions, and then fell on my collection of tools like a kid in the Blue Bell Dairy Ice Cream Parlor. He grabbed my can of WD-40, and sorted out their car in fifteen minutes flat. Dad looked terrified as the mechanic deftly dismantled, dried, and reassembled bits of the car which Dad had never seen before.
The mechanic shrugged off thanks and roared off to avoid a late return home. Dad was headed to Overton, about 15 miles beyond my normal turnoff, but wasn't too sure of his route. I offered to follow him home. Off he went, children waving, and horn beeping. I finally got home about an hour before I needed to start work. All arrived safely without another hitch.
I call it the "Divine Mission". I help when I can by helping others, and always, when I have problems beyond my own ability to solve, someone turns up to help.
This night was particularly memorable because the mechanic said he wouldn't have stopped if he hadn't been curious about my motocylce facing the wrong way.
Despite the lousy weather the "Divine Mission" was firing on all cylinders that night, and six people felt better for it.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
No Patient ~ My Brother
As a hospital Chaplain I encounter many patients with many stories. When I was in Toledo, OH working for St. Vincent’s Medical Center this became a precious time in my life education.
I met a patient, let’s call him David. He was having treatment for leg problems. However, David had been partly strangled by his mother's umbilical cord at birth and suffered terrible brain damage. He couldn't talk, could barely see, could hear little, and could only express himself in grunts.
Promptly at 8:00 a.m. the next morning, David's elder brother “Ron” appeared. The patients were mostly awake; taking medication, but the nurses had been unable to get David to take his medication and were getting perhaps a little bit exasperated.
On arriving, Ron, in his middle fifties, took David's hand and put it up to his own face to allow David to touch him and to recognize him. David calmed down straight away and allowed his brother to clean, dress him, and as breakfast arrived, to feed him.
After breakfast, Ron cleaned David up again, found a spare wheelchair and took him for a 90-minute walk. After settling David in his chair, Ron handed him some magazines, not to read, but just to hold, which pleased David.
Several hours later, a younger man arrived with his wife. They greeted Ron, the young man's father, then greeted David by touching his hand to their faces. David recognized them both, and Ron then went to eat.
Ron returned an hour later, the young people left, and Ron stayed, taking his brother to the toilet, cleaning, feeding and connecting with him, until 8:00 p.m. Ron then put David to bed for the night.
Ron returned at 8:00 the next morning. This went on for nearly two weeks until David was well enough to go home. Naturally, I got to talking to Ron and gradually heard his story. Ron was eight years old when David was born and, right from the start, his mother and father instilled the values that would be his the rest of his life. They loved both boys very much, and looked after David for as long as they could.
When their parents could no longer manage, the now grown-up and married Ron took David into his home to look after him. Ron's children used to take their uncle out in a wheelchair, defending him from other kids who mocked him.
Many years later, David needed nursing home care. Ron found one which cares for David well, near where he lives, so the family can visit daily. When David came into hospital, Ron knew he would be totally disorientated and extremely distressed. Hence Ron's daily 12-hour visits-- for which he took time off work. I felt totally humbled by Ron's selflessness, and his love for his brother, which love was mirrored in his own children.
When Ron came to take David back home, I shook his hand, and I told him that I was proud to do so.
I met a patient, let’s call him David. He was having treatment for leg problems. However, David had been partly strangled by his mother's umbilical cord at birth and suffered terrible brain damage. He couldn't talk, could barely see, could hear little, and could only express himself in grunts.
Promptly at 8:00 a.m. the next morning, David's elder brother “Ron” appeared. The patients were mostly awake; taking medication, but the nurses had been unable to get David to take his medication and were getting perhaps a little bit exasperated.
On arriving, Ron, in his middle fifties, took David's hand and put it up to his own face to allow David to touch him and to recognize him. David calmed down straight away and allowed his brother to clean, dress him, and as breakfast arrived, to feed him.
After breakfast, Ron cleaned David up again, found a spare wheelchair and took him for a 90-minute walk. After settling David in his chair, Ron handed him some magazines, not to read, but just to hold, which pleased David.
Several hours later, a younger man arrived with his wife. They greeted Ron, the young man's father, then greeted David by touching his hand to their faces. David recognized them both, and Ron then went to eat.
Ron returned an hour later, the young people left, and Ron stayed, taking his brother to the toilet, cleaning, feeding and connecting with him, until 8:00 p.m. Ron then put David to bed for the night.
Ron returned at 8:00 the next morning. This went on for nearly two weeks until David was well enough to go home. Naturally, I got to talking to Ron and gradually heard his story. Ron was eight years old when David was born and, right from the start, his mother and father instilled the values that would be his the rest of his life. They loved both boys very much, and looked after David for as long as they could.
When their parents could no longer manage, the now grown-up and married Ron took David into his home to look after him. Ron's children used to take their uncle out in a wheelchair, defending him from other kids who mocked him.
Many years later, David needed nursing home care. Ron found one which cares for David well, near where he lives, so the family can visit daily. When David came into hospital, Ron knew he would be totally disorientated and extremely distressed. Hence Ron's daily 12-hour visits-- for which he took time off work. I felt totally humbled by Ron's selflessness, and his love for his brother, which love was mirrored in his own children.
When Ron came to take David back home, I shook his hand, and I told him that I was proud to do so.
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