I have never really figured out what trade shows are for. You spend a lot of money to fly your people in, you set up a booth, you wine and dine the customers, and at the end you still have to get up every morning, and go see your customers at their place to get the orders.
And I especially don't get the fascination with Las Vegas. It is a desert city that was started for the sole purpose of wrangling the last few dollars out of some poor GI's pocket. Of course, the GI's who came here in the 1940's wouldn't recognize it. The city is huge, the old strip is about gone. But the decadence is as real as ever. This city truly represents all that I find detestable. It is a city based on greed, and perverse power, the evil is almost palpable.
Yet the 3rd grade teachers from Fargo and Clovis and Abilene flock here, insurance salesmen, dock workers, postal clerks, all come to drop their hard earned money in this city that takes every human inclination to the extreme. I wonder what the carpenter turned rabbi would say to all this?
After we put up the booth and ironed the samples and had a few short meetings, everyone was ready for lunch. So we found a sport's grill just off the casino and all 10 of us ordered our lunch. We were sitting at a round table, which looked out over the casino floor. I was sitting facing the casino, and just visiting with my coworkers. Just about the time everyone was seated, a young "showgirl" climbed on top of the bar in the casino, in a revealing outfit and began to sing a popular tune. The guys at the table all turned and watched. I know this is not the worst activity that a young lady can involve herself in in Vegas. I know there are several hundred explanations for this taking place. But somewhere in the past few years I crossed over a line. I can't watch a young lady doing something like that with out wondering to myself, "I wonder what her daddy would say?" All women under 40 now fall into what I generally consider my daughters. When I see them in a situation that would make me cringe to see my girls in, it makes me sad to wonder what happened. Did he not care? Did he abuse? Could he not stop this?
You see, my life is filled with a wife and daughters and daughter-in-law who have fought some tough battles, have been disappointed and hurt, who could have taken an easier road. But they didn't. They are married to men who cherish them for their worth as people. They are not self-centered, but are compassionate. Did I have something to do with that? Some. Am I proud of them..intensely. But it upsets me to realize that the demarcation is very thin between daddies who cherish their daughters and give them a fighting chance, and daddies who paved the road to humiliation and hurt with their abuse or neglect or their own personal battles with control.
Yes, I hate this place. I hate it that I'm not home with my youngest and her little one still in NICU. I hate it that the little money I spend here is used to further this illusion of "fun". I hate it that so many daughters are used and abused here, and apparently their daddy can't do anything about it.
Godspeed, sometimes the journey takes us through a particularly ugly stretch of the trail.
Don
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
On The Road Again
This week put me on the road again. And unlike Willie, I could have waited to get on the road again. This week is Phoenix and El Paso, then Albuquerque. Seeing people who are customers, listening to their complaints (unfortunately, most are legit) trying to build the brand, develop customer loyalty, riding with reps, hauling bags from one airport to another. Let me just say that those of you who follow this blog, but basically stay at home, this is not as glamorous as it looks.
For instance, I took American Airlines to Phoenix, completely full flight. Previewed our line to a major customer, then took the bag and hopped on a Southwest (or Southworst) flight to El Paso. Only an hour, no biggie. For the first time EVER my boarding pass said I was the lead cow for the cattle call, that's right A-1. Of course there were 5 or 6 blue-haired pre-boards, and about 10 crew headed back to El Paso, or Dallas or wherever, but other than that small group of 15 or so, I was first. So, being the seasoned traveler I am, I passed on all the seats at the front and headed for the Exit row, more leg room, I can actually get out my laptop and work without fear that the guy in front of me will tilt his seat all the way back and sever my spleen. Stowed my stuff and waited and hoped that everyone would understand good airline etiquette and sit somewhere else.
The flight filled up, and just at the end a rather large man asked if anyone was sitting in the middle seat in the exit row. Brain racing for way to say "yes" this seat is taken, but nothing came to mind, mumbled my "no" pasted a smile on my face, as he dumped his two bags into the seat and onto the floor.
Now the maneuvering begins. I'm on the aisle, but managed to claim both armrests. He finally seated himself, realized there was no room on either side for his arms, so he folded them across his chest. He is much taller than I am, so now I realize I am sitting under his armpit, it is hot there. So the dilemma begins. Can I hold my real estate for the 1 hour 13 minute flight? Do I want to? Now his knee is edging over into my space, do I nudge him back into his allocated space? So I spend the flight trying to give him as much space as possible, while trying to keep my space relatively intact. Forget the laptop, I was afraid to move in case he homesteads the rest of my seat. The final insult came as we were de-planing, I saw his baggage claim check and he had B-13 as his boarding number. A-1 had to put up with a B-13. This is just not right.
Pretty glamorous stuff this travel. Meanwhile I fret and pray over my grandson in NICU, my kids and of course my bride. Being on the road gives me too much time to let my imagination run, to feel helpless about the truly important events. Big guys and small seats are just a part of life.
As my bride will probably tell me, "get over it"
But I reserve my God-given right to complain about it.
Anyway, Godspeed out there.
Don
For instance, I took American Airlines to Phoenix, completely full flight. Previewed our line to a major customer, then took the bag and hopped on a Southwest (or Southworst) flight to El Paso. Only an hour, no biggie. For the first time EVER my boarding pass said I was the lead cow for the cattle call, that's right A-1. Of course there were 5 or 6 blue-haired pre-boards, and about 10 crew headed back to El Paso, or Dallas or wherever, but other than that small group of 15 or so, I was first. So, being the seasoned traveler I am, I passed on all the seats at the front and headed for the Exit row, more leg room, I can actually get out my laptop and work without fear that the guy in front of me will tilt his seat all the way back and sever my spleen. Stowed my stuff and waited and hoped that everyone would understand good airline etiquette and sit somewhere else.
The flight filled up, and just at the end a rather large man asked if anyone was sitting in the middle seat in the exit row. Brain racing for way to say "yes" this seat is taken, but nothing came to mind, mumbled my "no" pasted a smile on my face, as he dumped his two bags into the seat and onto the floor.
Now the maneuvering begins. I'm on the aisle, but managed to claim both armrests. He finally seated himself, realized there was no room on either side for his arms, so he folded them across his chest. He is much taller than I am, so now I realize I am sitting under his armpit, it is hot there. So the dilemma begins. Can I hold my real estate for the 1 hour 13 minute flight? Do I want to? Now his knee is edging over into my space, do I nudge him back into his allocated space? So I spend the flight trying to give him as much space as possible, while trying to keep my space relatively intact. Forget the laptop, I was afraid to move in case he homesteads the rest of my seat. The final insult came as we were de-planing, I saw his baggage claim check and he had B-13 as his boarding number. A-1 had to put up with a B-13. This is just not right.
Pretty glamorous stuff this travel. Meanwhile I fret and pray over my grandson in NICU, my kids and of course my bride. Being on the road gives me too much time to let my imagination run, to feel helpless about the truly important events. Big guys and small seats are just a part of life.
As my bride will probably tell me, "get over it"
But I reserve my God-given right to complain about it.
Anyway, Godspeed out there.
Don
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
One More Step
It seems there are times when everything goes right. The parking places are close to the door and don't carry the handicap icon, the customer is complimentary and loves doing business with you, the spouse is loving, the kids are all in a good spot. The stars are simply aligned and life is good.
Then there are times visited on your family where it is not the stars aligned, but all the crap the world can throw at you and yours is coming in faster and faster. My little corner of the world is going through this now. Each of my offspring is handling some really big, life changing, life altering stuff and each one seems to have these continuing little setbacks that are disheartening and frustrating.
There is a tendency to be a little philosophical, "God is testing me, teaching me." Or the other side of the coin, "Satan is testing me, teaching me." I think sometimes the crap just all hits at the same time. We can find hope or the strength to fight depending on where you think the crap is coming from, but in reality, these things just happen. I'm not saying I don't think God or Satan don't interact with creation, it just means that the world we find ourselves in dumps a lot of trauma on it, and surrounds us with people who bring us joy to deal with it all. If pushed, I would say that God is incredibly active in his creation, I'm just not sure he spends a great deal of time manipulating events so we won't have crap land on us. Scripture is full of quotes and stories that illustrate that we just have to understand the nature of this world and that we have to find a way to cope.
So here is what you do when overwhelmed with kids being sick, kids disappointed, kids frustrated and sad, grand kids having to learn life lessons when very young, spouses who are living "plan B"
You put your head down and take the next step. Let the blizzard blow, the sleet stings, the hands and feet are numb, you want to quit, you want to cry, you want to shake your fist at...what? The wind? The movement of the earth that causes blizzards?
You take the next breath, cling to the hands that you brought into the world, cling to your faith in these storms of life, and take one more step.
Remember that joy and family times and good food and laughter are going to come.
My bride and I raised fighters. You can knock them down, but you will not knock them out. They are made of much better stuff than that. And when it is all over they will still love people and each other, they will still make significant contributions, in the end they will outlast the storm, faithful, strong, and sure.
Godspeed to my kids and kids-in-law and my grandkids, the hill is a little steep right now, but we will overcome.
Don
Then there are times visited on your family where it is not the stars aligned, but all the crap the world can throw at you and yours is coming in faster and faster. My little corner of the world is going through this now. Each of my offspring is handling some really big, life changing, life altering stuff and each one seems to have these continuing little setbacks that are disheartening and frustrating.
There is a tendency to be a little philosophical, "God is testing me, teaching me." Or the other side of the coin, "Satan is testing me, teaching me." I think sometimes the crap just all hits at the same time. We can find hope or the strength to fight depending on where you think the crap is coming from, but in reality, these things just happen. I'm not saying I don't think God or Satan don't interact with creation, it just means that the world we find ourselves in dumps a lot of trauma on it, and surrounds us with people who bring us joy to deal with it all. If pushed, I would say that God is incredibly active in his creation, I'm just not sure he spends a great deal of time manipulating events so we won't have crap land on us. Scripture is full of quotes and stories that illustrate that we just have to understand the nature of this world and that we have to find a way to cope.
So here is what you do when overwhelmed with kids being sick, kids disappointed, kids frustrated and sad, grand kids having to learn life lessons when very young, spouses who are living "plan B"
You put your head down and take the next step. Let the blizzard blow, the sleet stings, the hands and feet are numb, you want to quit, you want to cry, you want to shake your fist at...what? The wind? The movement of the earth that causes blizzards?
You take the next breath, cling to the hands that you brought into the world, cling to your faith in these storms of life, and take one more step.
Remember that joy and family times and good food and laughter are going to come.
My bride and I raised fighters. You can knock them down, but you will not knock them out. They are made of much better stuff than that. And when it is all over they will still love people and each other, they will still make significant contributions, in the end they will outlast the storm, faithful, strong, and sure.
Godspeed to my kids and kids-in-law and my grandkids, the hill is a little steep right now, but we will overcome.
Don
Friday, October 9, 2009
It's My Job
Last night I was allowed the opportunity to hold my newest grandson for 30 minutes. He was still attached to the monitors, but most of the tubes were out, so I bundled him close and just talked quietly to him for a full 30 minutes. Most of the time he pretended to sleep, but I know he was listening. And he had to feel my heart thudding against his little "Spock" ear. He would occasionally stretch or draw in a little, I'm sure he was still sore from the surgery and the removal of his drain tube, but he and I got to visit for a bit. It was a moment where I got to put in a good word for his mom and dad, where I encouraged him to keep getting better and get out of there, where I told him what a fine young man he is going to become. But mostly, I jut held him and started the very strenuous task of spoiling him as only a grandaddy can.
I have decided that God built into his men the capacity to expand the devotion and spoiling factor for the men he chooses to be grandaddies. It is like some strange spring in our lives that just flows as new grand kids come along. The well-spring is activated by the tiny clasp of baby fingers around the weathered old fingers of their grandaddies (my kids refer to my hands as "cat pad" hands, but they don't complain when those hands hug and hold) When my oldest grandson was born I wondered if I would feel the same deep devotion to subsequent grandchildren. How can the heart expand to include them all in such a way? Surely I can only feel this deeply about the first one. But, to my surprise, that is not the case. Each one brings out this same feeling. Eli was first and is special to me in so many ways, Phoebe came along and won us all over with her love of life and food and apparently being photographed, now little Lincoln has caused us such anguish over his surgery, but we have all laughed at his little "worry" lines, I suspect he will be a serious child, but I love him and the others so.
And what of the ones to come? I know that, instead of pushing the others aside, they will build their own special place in my heart and my world. It doesn't matter if they are boys or girls, in the near future or distant, they will find their way into my life, deepening my prayers and causing me joy and tears and worry and fun and contentment with the decisions of my life that brought all this together.
It occurred to me that spoiling my grandchildren may the one thing that I am truly good at. My oldest daughter has told us that when she leaves her little ones with us it takes a week to "de-program" them when she gets them home. I can't tell you how proud I am of that accomplishment. That means I have done my job and done it well.
Godspeed to all there who are "spoilers" We have a big job to do, but are up to it.
Don
I have decided that God built into his men the capacity to expand the devotion and spoiling factor for the men he chooses to be grandaddies. It is like some strange spring in our lives that just flows as new grand kids come along. The well-spring is activated by the tiny clasp of baby fingers around the weathered old fingers of their grandaddies (my kids refer to my hands as "cat pad" hands, but they don't complain when those hands hug and hold) When my oldest grandson was born I wondered if I would feel the same deep devotion to subsequent grandchildren. How can the heart expand to include them all in such a way? Surely I can only feel this deeply about the first one. But, to my surprise, that is not the case. Each one brings out this same feeling. Eli was first and is special to me in so many ways, Phoebe came along and won us all over with her love of life and food and apparently being photographed, now little Lincoln has caused us such anguish over his surgery, but we have all laughed at his little "worry" lines, I suspect he will be a serious child, but I love him and the others so.
And what of the ones to come? I know that, instead of pushing the others aside, they will build their own special place in my heart and my world. It doesn't matter if they are boys or girls, in the near future or distant, they will find their way into my life, deepening my prayers and causing me joy and tears and worry and fun and contentment with the decisions of my life that brought all this together.
It occurred to me that spoiling my grandchildren may the one thing that I am truly good at. My oldest daughter has told us that when she leaves her little ones with us it takes a week to "de-program" them when she gets them home. I can't tell you how proud I am of that accomplishment. That means I have done my job and done it well.
Godspeed to all there who are "spoilers" We have a big job to do, but are up to it.
Don
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Hospitals: Love 'em - Hate 'em
My bride and I had one of those moments on our anniversary night where we were in different places (she was driving home from the hops ital in her car and I was driving home in mine) We got home, she said, "Do you know what I was just thinking about?" And I said, "You were thinking the same thing as I was, that we have spent a lot of our hallmark moments in hospitals."
She said, "Yes, keeping vigil."
That word has resonated with me ever since. Keeping "vigil" is a primary parent function. And those vigil moments have been in hospitals all over Texas, from Dallas to Lubbock to Abilene. We are experts in hospital protocol.
So I have developed a list of observations about hospitals that I will share.
1. Hospitals are not designed to allow people any rest. People wandering around the hallways at all hours of the night, nurses coming in to take blood pressure, temp, jiggle the IV lines, turn on the lights, ask how you are doing. By the way, why do they ask how "we" are doing. Obviously she is doing better than the patient, she can come and go, she doesn't hurt, she can escape and get decent food, so half of us are doing fine, disproportionate to how lousy the other is doing. This very issue created the setting for my only real high-volume confrontation with someone I didn't know in the hallway of a hospital at 2AM, but that is another story for another time, but it is part of the Jolly lore.
2. Apparently, doctors and hospitals have a terrible time keeping a schedule. They are bright people, but something about that Dr complex thing makes them revert to 16-year-old girls and they begin to believe that the world spins on an axis that runs through their britches. Meanwhile, the family sits knotted up in concern over their loved one and agonize through the hours and days...waiting on someone to tell them what is going on. We waited for a day and half to find out when our new, little day-old grandson was going to have surgery. Really? Someone can't look at a Day-timer and tell us it ain't going to happen?!
3. Nurses either make or break the experience (sorry Docs) if the nurse is good, it is a great experience. I have watched all my kids face tough situations and have a good nurse make the experience bearable. On the other hand, a rude or pompous nurse can bring the blood to a boil in an instant. My newest S-i-L held his temper with enormous self-control, but I wondered how many rude health professionals each year get decked in the ICU.
4. There are some people who handle the entire vigil thing pretty well. The jolly clan tends to find moments of humor to help this along, but hospitals, by and large are dreary, cold places. Clean...but cold.
5. Whomever is responsible for designing furniture in hospitals has a mean streak. The chairs are monstrously uncomfortable, the "fold-outs" in the rooms for the loved ones keeping vigil are like sleeping on a poorly designed wooden pallet. The only place these folks could learn a thing or two is from the folks who design chairs at airports.
6 Finally, they are filled with sick people, everywhere you look someone is pushing one of those IV pumps up and down the floor. For the amount of money they will end up paying you should get a caddy.
I should be put on one of those committees that give input to hospital administration about making patient care better. I could share a thing or two.
Godspeed, stay out of those hospital zones.
Don
She said, "Yes, keeping vigil."
That word has resonated with me ever since. Keeping "vigil" is a primary parent function. And those vigil moments have been in hospitals all over Texas, from Dallas to Lubbock to Abilene. We are experts in hospital protocol.
So I have developed a list of observations about hospitals that I will share.
1. Hospitals are not designed to allow people any rest. People wandering around the hallways at all hours of the night, nurses coming in to take blood pressure, temp, jiggle the IV lines, turn on the lights, ask how you are doing. By the way, why do they ask how "we" are doing. Obviously she is doing better than the patient, she can come and go, she doesn't hurt, she can escape and get decent food, so half of us are doing fine, disproportionate to how lousy the other is doing. This very issue created the setting for my only real high-volume confrontation with someone I didn't know in the hallway of a hospital at 2AM, but that is another story for another time, but it is part of the Jolly lore.
2. Apparently, doctors and hospitals have a terrible time keeping a schedule. They are bright people, but something about that Dr complex thing makes them revert to 16-year-old girls and they begin to believe that the world spins on an axis that runs through their britches. Meanwhile, the family sits knotted up in concern over their loved one and agonize through the hours and days...waiting on someone to tell them what is going on. We waited for a day and half to find out when our new, little day-old grandson was going to have surgery. Really? Someone can't look at a Day-timer and tell us it ain't going to happen?!
3. Nurses either make or break the experience (sorry Docs) if the nurse is good, it is a great experience. I have watched all my kids face tough situations and have a good nurse make the experience bearable. On the other hand, a rude or pompous nurse can bring the blood to a boil in an instant. My newest S-i-L held his temper with enormous self-control, but I wondered how many rude health professionals each year get decked in the ICU.
4. There are some people who handle the entire vigil thing pretty well. The jolly clan tends to find moments of humor to help this along, but hospitals, by and large are dreary, cold places. Clean...but cold.
5. Whomever is responsible for designing furniture in hospitals has a mean streak. The chairs are monstrously uncomfortable, the "fold-outs" in the rooms for the loved ones keeping vigil are like sleeping on a poorly designed wooden pallet. The only place these folks could learn a thing or two is from the folks who design chairs at airports.
6 Finally, they are filled with sick people, everywhere you look someone is pushing one of those IV pumps up and down the floor. For the amount of money they will end up paying you should get a caddy.
I should be put on one of those committees that give input to hospital administration about making patient care better. I could share a thing or two.
Godspeed, stay out of those hospital zones.
Don
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Grandads' Conversation
This has been a week of looking ahead and staying in the moment. Anticipating the future of fun with a new grandson, and praying with all my might for his safety and recovery. A week of appreciating the skills of the surgeons and fretting about the lack of schedule and lack of communication from same.
After a couple of days of this, the other grandad and I found ourselves in the car picking up dinner and having a few minutes to visit. This is their first grandchild and, to some extent, the first time with a hospital emergency. It is hard to describe to someone who hasn't been there what this is all like.
So we talked about how proud we were of our kids, their resilience, their determination, their ability to handle the ups and downs, with good humor and unashamed tears. But we also talked about managing our emotions has been harder than we anticipated. I had been down that path several times, so when he said that he felt like bursting into tears at any given moment, I had to tell him it goes with the job. You see, you expend tremendous emotional energy into willing your child and grandchild to get better. You pray more deeply than you thought possible, and your love and care for your family comes boiling to the surface. On top of that, you don't sleep well, or at all. You eat infrequently, and all is tasteless and bland and feels like so much mud in your stomach that you decide it is better to not eat, than to undergo that unpleasantness. And your primary focus to try to be someone of stability in a world where stability and surety are non-existent.
But after thinking about this for 20+ years I think the hardest part for daddies and grandads is the helplessness. We are chartered with the job of caring and providing, of giving safe harbor in the storm of life, to be the positive answer man for the clan. But we are thrust into the position of not knowing, and worse, not having the ability to "fix" anything. We can't protect as we always have, we can't control the outcome, and to add insult to injury, we can't even control our emotions. This is the last straw. It is embarrassing and it publicly displays our pain, frustration, and our fear.
I hope when I get to whatever Heaven is, there is a Q and A for those of us who spent our time on earth asking questions. I anticipate that there will be at least a couple of big groups already assembled. One will be a group of guys around Adam reminding him what poor "scene control" he exhibited in the early chapters of Genesis. Really, the best you could come up with was, "The woman you gave me..."
Of course the other large group will be women with the Apostle Paul cornered somewhere and demanding an explanation about their "voice" in the church. I can hear him now, "THAT is NOT what I meant!!" Good luck with that Paul, it has never worked for me.
But here is my question: Lord, why did you charter me with the task, the responsibility to raise my children, to care for them and protect them from what the world will try to do to them, to make sure they are balanced, mature, caring people..then strip me of the power to accomplish the task? If I can't keep disease and violence, emotional trauma, and can't remove fear from them, how can I do my job? Why give me a tender heart, crying eyes, and threadbare faith as weapons against evil and pain and death? This does not seem like a fair fight.
So I told my grandad partner that the best we can do is be strong in our faith, both in God and our kids. That we need to be honest about our feelings, but remember that the primary concern is the little grandson, taped and tubed and struggling like a little warrior to get better. To not spend our time analyzing ourselves, but to analyze how we can help, how we can lend a hand (as pitiful as it seems at times) to those around us. That while we would like to run and hide, we never have before and we won't start now. He is a good man, probably better at this than I was the first time around. He knew all this and listened and put up with my pontificating with patience. The worst of the storm is over, relief is beginning to stick its head out. We will see what happens.
Questions and answers. I've got more of the former than the latter.
Godspeed out there.
Don
After a couple of days of this, the other grandad and I found ourselves in the car picking up dinner and having a few minutes to visit. This is their first grandchild and, to some extent, the first time with a hospital emergency. It is hard to describe to someone who hasn't been there what this is all like.
So we talked about how proud we were of our kids, their resilience, their determination, their ability to handle the ups and downs, with good humor and unashamed tears. But we also talked about managing our emotions has been harder than we anticipated. I had been down that path several times, so when he said that he felt like bursting into tears at any given moment, I had to tell him it goes with the job. You see, you expend tremendous emotional energy into willing your child and grandchild to get better. You pray more deeply than you thought possible, and your love and care for your family comes boiling to the surface. On top of that, you don't sleep well, or at all. You eat infrequently, and all is tasteless and bland and feels like so much mud in your stomach that you decide it is better to not eat, than to undergo that unpleasantness. And your primary focus to try to be someone of stability in a world where stability and surety are non-existent.
But after thinking about this for 20+ years I think the hardest part for daddies and grandads is the helplessness. We are chartered with the job of caring and providing, of giving safe harbor in the storm of life, to be the positive answer man for the clan. But we are thrust into the position of not knowing, and worse, not having the ability to "fix" anything. We can't protect as we always have, we can't control the outcome, and to add insult to injury, we can't even control our emotions. This is the last straw. It is embarrassing and it publicly displays our pain, frustration, and our fear.
I hope when I get to whatever Heaven is, there is a Q and A for those of us who spent our time on earth asking questions. I anticipate that there will be at least a couple of big groups already assembled. One will be a group of guys around Adam reminding him what poor "scene control" he exhibited in the early chapters of Genesis. Really, the best you could come up with was, "The woman you gave me..."
Of course the other large group will be women with the Apostle Paul cornered somewhere and demanding an explanation about their "voice" in the church. I can hear him now, "THAT is NOT what I meant!!" Good luck with that Paul, it has never worked for me.
But here is my question: Lord, why did you charter me with the task, the responsibility to raise my children, to care for them and protect them from what the world will try to do to them, to make sure they are balanced, mature, caring people..then strip me of the power to accomplish the task? If I can't keep disease and violence, emotional trauma, and can't remove fear from them, how can I do my job? Why give me a tender heart, crying eyes, and threadbare faith as weapons against evil and pain and death? This does not seem like a fair fight.
So I told my grandad partner that the best we can do is be strong in our faith, both in God and our kids. That we need to be honest about our feelings, but remember that the primary concern is the little grandson, taped and tubed and struggling like a little warrior to get better. To not spend our time analyzing ourselves, but to analyze how we can help, how we can lend a hand (as pitiful as it seems at times) to those around us. That while we would like to run and hide, we never have before and we won't start now. He is a good man, probably better at this than I was the first time around. He knew all this and listened and put up with my pontificating with patience. The worst of the storm is over, relief is beginning to stick its head out. We will see what happens.
Questions and answers. I've got more of the former than the latter.
Godspeed out there.
Don
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