The Vietnam War dominated my generation growing up. I knew a couple of young men who were drafted and went to war. I knew only vaguely one who was killed in the war. My older brother, Barry, joined the Air Force at this time. As I graduated from high school I was concerned about the draft. The government instituted a lottery system about this time, so I was anxious to learn what my number would be. The system drew lots based on birthday, so there were numbers from 1 to 365, with the lower numbers being first to go.
I was exploring my options, including signing up for the National Guard or Reserves. As I recall, I even took a test to start down that road. I don't recall the exact situation with college or missionary deferments, but they must have been in jeopardy for me to be so worried.
Well, my number was drawn, and it was 348! I felt so relieved and lucky. The deal was that you were only exposed to the draft for one year, so I went ahead and listed myself as 1-A and eligible for the draft, even at school and on my mission for that year, so I could get it out of the way. My year passed and I was scott free. It was about this time that the draft started slowing down, anyway. But the number 348 will always be emblazoned in my memory.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving Eve
There are a few predictable magical times each year. Christmas eve is obviously one of them, as well as Christmas morning. Thanksgiving eve is another, at least for me.
Each year I look forward to the extra time off work with the extended weekend. The Wednesday workday itself has a little tingle to it, as people are in a pleasant mood, and the numbers, already diminished due to people taking vacation days, thin out further as the day progresses. I can remember several times (at Sequent in particular) when I felt like one of the few left in the building at the end of a full day (or a bit longer, as the work may have required). Things are so quiet, and when you leave for the parking lot it is dark and peaceful outside.
Often there are weekend projects to look forward to. At HP at least a couple of times I brought a computer home to play games on. This was before the days of PC's, so a computer at home was a novelty, though the games were very rudimentary. Sometimes Suzanne and I had wallpaper projects in store. Sometimes we would have shopping plans for early morning black Friday, or a visit to the temple. I often organized extended tennis play for Friday, or a bike ride, or a run. Sometimes we have taken trips--a couple of times to Boise to visit the Juhasz family, or Teresa. We have hosted family (I remember Barry's family visiting us in Meridian, and the snow storm when they left) or friends.
Today will be a bit different. Suzanne is incapacitated with her foot surgery recovery, so we are having a simpler Thanksgiving. Blair will cook the turkey and each of us will have other food preparation assignments, but nothing will be elaborate.
But, as with each Thanksgiving, we are so mindful of our countless blessings. What a wonderful life we lead! And I wish all you readers a marvelous Thanksgiving as well.
Thanksgiving 2008
Each year I look forward to the extra time off work with the extended weekend. The Wednesday workday itself has a little tingle to it, as people are in a pleasant mood, and the numbers, already diminished due to people taking vacation days, thin out further as the day progresses. I can remember several times (at Sequent in particular) when I felt like one of the few left in the building at the end of a full day (or a bit longer, as the work may have required). Things are so quiet, and when you leave for the parking lot it is dark and peaceful outside.
Often there are weekend projects to look forward to. At HP at least a couple of times I brought a computer home to play games on. This was before the days of PC's, so a computer at home was a novelty, though the games were very rudimentary. Sometimes Suzanne and I had wallpaper projects in store. Sometimes we would have shopping plans for early morning black Friday, or a visit to the temple. I often organized extended tennis play for Friday, or a bike ride, or a run. Sometimes we have taken trips--a couple of times to Boise to visit the Juhasz family, or Teresa. We have hosted family (I remember Barry's family visiting us in Meridian, and the snow storm when they left) or friends.
Today will be a bit different. Suzanne is incapacitated with her foot surgery recovery, so we are having a simpler Thanksgiving. Blair will cook the turkey and each of us will have other food preparation assignments, but nothing will be elaborate.
But, as with each Thanksgiving, we are so mindful of our countless blessings. What a wonderful life we lead! And I wish all you readers a marvelous Thanksgiving as well.
Thanksgiving 2008
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Ideal age?
Suzanne, Steven, and I were discussing this evening what the ideal age would be.
A child has the advantage of innocence, minimal world concerns, toys and games for play, and, perhaps, an awareness of continual growth and improvement. But, lots of negatives, too.
As a teenager I so much looked forward to age 16 when I could get a license to drive a car. Not a bad age, but also too many negatives with the teen years.
Early twenties, a full time mission under my belt, a bride, a newborn son. But college years were tough and stressful.
New college graduate, (relatively) lucrative job, beginnings of a family. Definitely a fun and rewarding age, mid-twenties. Perhaps near optimum physical body. And a sharp mind capable of learning and comprehending quickly. But in retrospect, later years were better.
I specifically remember talking to my mother when I was about 32 and remarking that this was the best period in my life. Strong, healthy, good career, wonderful young family. A definite candidate for the ideal age.
Forties weren't bad at all. Age wise it seemed like I should be starting to feel old, but health, vigor, energy, activity, mental acuity--all still very good. A notch below thirties to be sure, but offset by maturity, stability, wisdom, self confidence, financial means and security, and really interesting family activities with older children. In my case, I may have been more physically fit, due to ambitious cycling. I think forties were the best so far.
At age 50 I definitely felt like I should be feeling detrimental effects of aging. But I honestly felt like this could be the ideal time in my life, for many of the same reasons as listed above for the forties, but even more so. I was still very active physically and felt so happy and fulfilled, and excited about life. My mother warned me that after age 50, which is still a very good age, that I would definitely start experiencing a downhill trend.
Now I am 57, and my mother was right. The slow decline in mental acuity, eyesight, and physical abilities and ailments are becoming more pronounced. Though I remain very active playing tennis and riding my bike, I no longer run and my athletic skills are in decline. Still, 57 is not a bad age at all, due to further increases in all those positive attributes mentioned above.
Looking ahead, I anticipate late 50's and 60's will be more of the same trend, and these will be good years, too, with the added bonus of increased discretionary time and (hopefully) increased financial means.
I don't know, tough call. I think, in my case, I will vote for age 50. Does that surprise you? It is a good compromise of reasonable mental and physical abilities with all the bonuses of knowledge, wisdom, experience, self confidence, judgment, etc.
What do you think the optimum age is?
A child has the advantage of innocence, minimal world concerns, toys and games for play, and, perhaps, an awareness of continual growth and improvement. But, lots of negatives, too.
As a teenager I so much looked forward to age 16 when I could get a license to drive a car. Not a bad age, but also too many negatives with the teen years.
Early twenties, a full time mission under my belt, a bride, a newborn son. But college years were tough and stressful.
New college graduate, (relatively) lucrative job, beginnings of a family. Definitely a fun and rewarding age, mid-twenties. Perhaps near optimum physical body. And a sharp mind capable of learning and comprehending quickly. But in retrospect, later years were better.
I specifically remember talking to my mother when I was about 32 and remarking that this was the best period in my life. Strong, healthy, good career, wonderful young family. A definite candidate for the ideal age.
Forties weren't bad at all. Age wise it seemed like I should be starting to feel old, but health, vigor, energy, activity, mental acuity--all still very good. A notch below thirties to be sure, but offset by maturity, stability, wisdom, self confidence, financial means and security, and really interesting family activities with older children. In my case, I may have been more physically fit, due to ambitious cycling. I think forties were the best so far.
At age 50 I definitely felt like I should be feeling detrimental effects of aging. But I honestly felt like this could be the ideal time in my life, for many of the same reasons as listed above for the forties, but even more so. I was still very active physically and felt so happy and fulfilled, and excited about life. My mother warned me that after age 50, which is still a very good age, that I would definitely start experiencing a downhill trend.
Now I am 57, and my mother was right. The slow decline in mental acuity, eyesight, and physical abilities and ailments are becoming more pronounced. Though I remain very active playing tennis and riding my bike, I no longer run and my athletic skills are in decline. Still, 57 is not a bad age at all, due to further increases in all those positive attributes mentioned above.
Looking ahead, I anticipate late 50's and 60's will be more of the same trend, and these will be good years, too, with the added bonus of increased discretionary time and (hopefully) increased financial means.
I don't know, tough call. I think, in my case, I will vote for age 50. Does that surprise you? It is a good compromise of reasonable mental and physical abilities with all the bonuses of knowledge, wisdom, experience, self confidence, judgment, etc.
What do you think the optimum age is?
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
My earliest memory
When your family has home movies of when you were a child it can be difficult to separate real memories from what you have seen in the movies. I'm not sure which of my foggy memories would be the earliest but I can at least pinpoint the timeframe of one.
I was born in California but moved to Germany when I was about 6 months old as my father was stationed there in the Air Force. About a year later we moved to England, then when I was about 3 we moved back to the states. My parents tell me I was very concerned about leaving England because I was worried there wouldn't be Grape Nuts Flakes breakfast cereal in the USA.
My memory is of being in some public place, and running up and down a gradual ramp or incline. The consensus is that this was at a restaurant or airport during our trip back to the USA. It is a happy memory, and an activity that is characteristic of a small child.
What is your earliest memory, and is it a pleasant one?
By the way, the picture above is of Wendie and Barry, my two older siblings, and me, presumably around 3 or 4 years old.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Roxorg
Daniel wanted a dog. Daniel always wanted a dog. Dad (me) didn't want a dog, and would never get one. But in late 1990 somehow we bought a black Lab puppy at the pet store (Daniel used to love going in that store all the time). I guess it was Daniel's Christmas present, but it ended up being a family project. Daniel named her Roxie. We sometimes referred to her as Roxorg--I believe some variation of a comic book monster--I don't recall the exact origin. We would sing "Roxanne...Roxanne".
Roxie did all the usual puppy things, like chewing up everything in sight, pooping on the floor, jumping all over visitors, and barking all night. But we all loved her. We would go to the pet store and buy her toys, food, and other things.
Roxie was an exceptionally stupid dog, if good natured and hyper. We wondered why we bothered buying her the premium dog food when she didn't mind eating her own feces in the back yard. When we had the choke chain around her neck she never seemed to figure out that obedience and restraint would avoid the choking sensation. We tried and tried to train her (sit, heel, stay), with very little success. We would try to play fetch with a ball, but she would play keep-away after bringing the ball back to you so you had trouble getting it back to throw again. Someone told me that's why you don't buy just any dog at a pet store.
I (mostly) enjoyed taking Roxie on runs with me (with a leash, of course--otherwise she would run wild). At the beginning she would run ahead of me, straining on the leash in all her enthusiasm, then tire at the end and I would be dragging her to keep up. One night I took a risk and let her run with me without a leash. She mostly stayed in the general area with me, but upon arriving back home she would not go into our fenced backyard where she normally stayed. I commanded and coaxed and bribed and tricked -- nothing worked. In exasperation I finally gave up and went to bed. Roxie must have had a wild night, because the next morning she had gathered up a number of random shoes from the neighborhood. How embarrassing. We placed them on the curb so the neighbors would find them. Roxie slept all the next day.
After three or four years we finally decided to find a new home for Roxie. Ironically, the very day the prospective new owners were going to check her out Roxie got loose in the front yard, and, in her trademark unruly fashion, would not come back when we called or coaxed. She ran out into the busy street near our home and was struck by a car. What a sad day that was, as we took her to the vet and, due to severe injuries, they put her to sleep. Daniel and I were by Roxie's side as she breathed her last, and I confess I shed a few tears, as much for Daniel as for her.
Roxie did all the usual puppy things, like chewing up everything in sight, pooping on the floor, jumping all over visitors, and barking all night. But we all loved her. We would go to the pet store and buy her toys, food, and other things.
Roxie was an exceptionally stupid dog, if good natured and hyper. We wondered why we bothered buying her the premium dog food when she didn't mind eating her own feces in the back yard. When we had the choke chain around her neck she never seemed to figure out that obedience and restraint would avoid the choking sensation. We tried and tried to train her (sit, heel, stay), with very little success. We would try to play fetch with a ball, but she would play keep-away after bringing the ball back to you so you had trouble getting it back to throw again. Someone told me that's why you don't buy just any dog at a pet store.
I (mostly) enjoyed taking Roxie on runs with me (with a leash, of course--otherwise she would run wild). At the beginning she would run ahead of me, straining on the leash in all her enthusiasm, then tire at the end and I would be dragging her to keep up. One night I took a risk and let her run with me without a leash. She mostly stayed in the general area with me, but upon arriving back home she would not go into our fenced backyard where she normally stayed. I commanded and coaxed and bribed and tricked -- nothing worked. In exasperation I finally gave up and went to bed. Roxie must have had a wild night, because the next morning she had gathered up a number of random shoes from the neighborhood. How embarrassing. We placed them on the curb so the neighbors would find them. Roxie slept all the next day.
After three or four years we finally decided to find a new home for Roxie. Ironically, the very day the prospective new owners were going to check her out Roxie got loose in the front yard, and, in her trademark unruly fashion, would not come back when we called or coaxed. She ran out into the busy street near our home and was struck by a car. What a sad day that was, as we took her to the vet and, due to severe injuries, they put her to sleep. Daniel and I were by Roxie's side as she breathed her last, and I confess I shed a few tears, as much for Daniel as for her.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Wild ride to the hospital
Taking Suzanne to surgery Friday morning and hanging out at the hospital reminded me of another trip we made earlier this year.
During our kitchen remodel Suzanne was working hard painting and staining the cabinets. We brought in some Chinese food for dinner and worked on into the evening (or at least she did--I was downstairs on the computer). About 9PM I heard a soft voice call "Craig, can you come up here?". I sat bolt upright. There was something alarming about the voice. I came upstairs and Suzanne was lying on the floor in significant discomfort. Her face was ashen colored, she had pains in her chest and arms, was clammy, and I don't remember what else. Her mother died of a heart attack in her 60's and this had all the classical symptoms. I asked if I should call 911 and she said let's just drive to the emergency room.
I quickly helped her into the car and drove very fast the 5 miles to the hospital. I only had to run one red light. I pulled up to the emergency room curb, jumped out, announced to the staff I thought my wife was having a heart attack, and rushed back out with a wheelchair.
They took her right into a cell and hooked her up to machines and a doctor checked her out. Her skin still had no color and symptoms persisted. They gave her oxygen and ran the usual tests. Gradually her color returned and the symptoms subsided.
To make a long story short, she spent the night at the hospital as a precaution but her heart tested out just fine. One theory was that the Chinese food caused it (acid reflux), another that the paint fumes did. But for a few hours there we were quite alarmed, and we count our blessings more readily these days.
During our kitchen remodel Suzanne was working hard painting and staining the cabinets. We brought in some Chinese food for dinner and worked on into the evening (or at least she did--I was downstairs on the computer). About 9PM I heard a soft voice call "Craig, can you come up here?". I sat bolt upright. There was something alarming about the voice. I came upstairs and Suzanne was lying on the floor in significant discomfort. Her face was ashen colored, she had pains in her chest and arms, was clammy, and I don't remember what else. Her mother died of a heart attack in her 60's and this had all the classical symptoms. I asked if I should call 911 and she said let's just drive to the emergency room.
I quickly helped her into the car and drove very fast the 5 miles to the hospital. I only had to run one red light. I pulled up to the emergency room curb, jumped out, announced to the staff I thought my wife was having a heart attack, and rushed back out with a wheelchair.
They took her right into a cell and hooked her up to machines and a doctor checked her out. Her skin still had no color and symptoms persisted. They gave her oxygen and ran the usual tests. Gradually her color returned and the symptoms subsided.
To make a long story short, she spent the night at the hospital as a precaution but her heart tested out just fine. One theory was that the Chinese food caused it (acid reflux), another that the paint fumes did. But for a few hours there we were quite alarmed, and we count our blessings more readily these days.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Just snip snip
This morning I took Suzanne to the hospital for scheduled elective surgery on her foot. So she will be on crutches for a few weeks, and today I am pampering her. This reminds me of an experience I had with elective surgery.
A few years ago I was sitting in Sunday School class when a man near me was dozing off. I teased him after class saying he might have snored out loud and embarrassed himself. He laughed and said that was no problem, as he had a simple operation (uvulectomy) that took care of any snoring problem. I asked more about it and he said it was a simple procedure, just snip snip, and a sore throat for a couple of weeks.
Wow, I wanted to pursue this! As I've aged I've become more self-conscious about my snoring. I had some medical savings account money to use or lose so about Dec. 30 I went to the doctor and had it done. I told Suzanne it was her Christmas present.
For starters, the doctor gave me a prescription for pain killers, and I thought I was manly enough not to need that. I could handle a little sore throat for a week or so. I was wrong. That night or the next day I picked up the pills. It was so painful to eat for two weeks or more I lost a bunch of weight. I used this over the counter sore throat spray to temporarily deaden the pain so I could get some food down, or when the pain just got too bad. (I ate lots of brown rice during this period, so whenever I eat brown rice I associate it with this time period.)
About two weeks or so later I was sill in great discomfort and getting discouraged. I asked the same man about it and he said "yeah, the pain was awful for a few weeks, and now my snoring is coming back." What!!?? I wanted to strangle him.
Well, eventually it healed, and the snoring is improved, though not eliminated. One side effect is that food and drink can more easily slip down my throat and gag me if I'm not careful. Was it worth it? I don't know. Perhaps. I should let Suzanne answer that. The snoring never bothered me. :-)
A few years ago I was sitting in Sunday School class when a man near me was dozing off. I teased him after class saying he might have snored out loud and embarrassed himself. He laughed and said that was no problem, as he had a simple operation (uvulectomy) that took care of any snoring problem. I asked more about it and he said it was a simple procedure, just snip snip, and a sore throat for a couple of weeks.
Wow, I wanted to pursue this! As I've aged I've become more self-conscious about my snoring. I had some medical savings account money to use or lose so about Dec. 30 I went to the doctor and had it done. I told Suzanne it was her Christmas present.
For starters, the doctor gave me a prescription for pain killers, and I thought I was manly enough not to need that. I could handle a little sore throat for a week or so. I was wrong. That night or the next day I picked up the pills. It was so painful to eat for two weeks or more I lost a bunch of weight. I used this over the counter sore throat spray to temporarily deaden the pain so I could get some food down, or when the pain just got too bad. (I ate lots of brown rice during this period, so whenever I eat brown rice I associate it with this time period.)
About two weeks or so later I was sill in great discomfort and getting discouraged. I asked the same man about it and he said "yeah, the pain was awful for a few weeks, and now my snoring is coming back." What!!?? I wanted to strangle him.
Well, eventually it healed, and the snoring is improved, though not eliminated. One side effect is that food and drink can more easily slip down my throat and gag me if I'm not careful. Was it worth it? I don't know. Perhaps. I should let Suzanne answer that. The snoring never bothered me. :-)
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