Friday Song

I am posting this tonight because it is unlikely I will have time to do it on Friday.

As you may or may not know, I recently spent a year in Charlottesville, Virginia, in order to obtain some additional training in my medical specialty. This part of Virginia, as well as the rest of the state, is exceptionally beautiful and rich in American history, and I highly recommend visiting if possible. I think they even race cars there! Charlottesville is just east of the Blue Ridge Mountains and about 25 miles from Shennendoah National Park, the Appalachian Trail, and the Blue Ridge Parkway, which offer fabulous vistas and lots to do for outdoor lovers. Unfortunately for me, however, the forces that be conspired to keep my wife and two sons in Missouri during this period of time. This song is about that year.

MOUNTAINS BLUE

Well I watched you, I watched you get on that plane
And I could barely, I could barely stand the pain
It's a long flight back to those mountains blue
And my head is hurtin cause I'm missing you
Well it's four more weeks till I'm home again
I hope some day, son, you'll understand
Cause I don't want to feel this way anymore
Yes I'm mountains blue, yes I'm mountains blue
Yes I'm mountains blue cause I'm missing you

I headed east to cross those mountains blue
Alone with just my thoughts and memories of you
My apartment was nothing but a cold, hard floor
And there was no one there to greet me when I opened the door
My only salvation hung there on the wall
Hearing your voice at night, when you would call
Now I came home from time to time, but things weren't the same
The leavin was always there, weighing on my mind

Well I watched you, I watched you get on that plane
And I could barely, I could barely stand the pain
It's a long flight back to those mountains blue
And my head is hurtin cause I'm missing you
Well it's four more weeks till I'm home again
I hope some day, son, you'll understand
Cause I don't want to feel this way anymore
Yes I'm mountains blue, yes I'm mountains blue
Yes I'm mountains blue cause I'm missing you

It was a long cold winter and it rained all spring
But the sun was shining the weekend you came
Well, it felt so good to hear you, to hear you laugh
And three days never went by, never went by so fast
I bet you don't remember climbing those mountains blue
But that's why the always make me think of you
Well, you had to go, you had to fly away
And I can't forget the look on your face, as I

I watched you, I watched you get on that plane
And I could barely, I could barely stand the pain
It's a long drive back to those mountains blue
And my heart is achin cause I'm missing you
Well it's four more weeks till I'm home again
I hope some day, son, you'll understand
Cause I don't want to feel like this ever again
Yes I'm mountains blue, yes I'm mountains blue
Yes I'm mountains blue cause I'm missing you

Now I'm back home and things are right
I'm there to tuck you into your bed each night
Any you fall asleep so fast cause you know I'm near
Seems you've forgotten all about that year
Well it's hard to say if leaving was right or wrong
But I didn't think one year would be so long
I thank my stars every night that I'm back with you
Instead of living in the shadow of those mountains blue

I watched you, I watched you get on that plane
I could barely, I could barely stand the pain
It's a long drive back to those mountains blue
And my heart is achin cause I'm missing you
Well it's four more weeks till I'm home again
I hope some day, son, you'll understand
Cause I don't want to feel like this ever again
Yes I'm mountains blue, yes I'm mountains blue
Yes I'm mountains blue cause I'm missing you

And I don't want to feel like this ever again
Yes I'm mountains blue, yes I'm mountains blue
Yes I'm mountains blue cause I'm missing you

That's the year in a nutshell! I'm glad it's over.

RWP

Making Cookies with Isa

I'd like to you all to meet Isa. Unlike Willa, there are plenty of you who haven't met her. She is quite hilarious. She doesn't really like to play with toys. She likes computer games, musical instruments, and audio-visual equipment. She will play with a toy if it happens to be one that Willa wants. She loves dogs and cats.

Isa turned 17 months old on the 23rd of March. She already likes to play tricks on people. She'll pretend she's going to give you something, and then she'll turn and run, giggling the whole time.

She already loves singing, dancing, and clapping along to music. She loves eating. She loves helping out in the kitchen. She loves being outside.

The best part of having two children is watching them together. Nothing makes Blog Daddy's heart warmer than watching them make each other laugh.

The last few weeks Isa is having an explosion in her vocabulary. Sometimes words fly out that she didn't even expect. She looks so excited when that happens. When you give her something (especially food) she says 'taytoo.' And it's the sweetest little 'thank you' you could ever hope to hear.

P.S. Her name is prounced 'eesa' like Lisa without an L.

Blog Daddy Returns

After a short vacation Blog Daddy has returned. The Daddy and his family spent a few days in Springfield, IL as guest of Roy and his family. They also spent a night in Jefferson City as a guest of Rochelle and her family.

Blog Daddy was able to spend an afternoon on the golf course with his brother. More importantly, Shelly had a job interview with representatives of several school districts in Sangamon County. According to her, it went splendidly.

Blog Daddy was extremely pleased to see the songs and other posts on the blog. He was overjoyed to see the results of another ultrasound. The Daddy fondly remembers how the ultrasound brought the first realizations that something was indeed alive in there.

Blog Daddy was also thrilled to see Carl Edwards take the racing world by storm. The Daddy loved seeing the kid do the flips off of his car after he won.

The Daddy has some pictures from the vacation. He will do the long overdue introduction of Isa. He also plans some Cardinal talk in the coming week. The Cards open in Houston on Tuesday, April 5th.

Paul's Friday Song Contribution

Since Roger mentioned this song a week or so ago, I thought I would start my first Friday song posting off with it. I'd also like to mention that Jeff's Friday song idea got me thinking, and I am doing something similar on my blog, except it's with haiku. It would be awesome if you guys checked it out and submitted a haiku. Here's the song:

Daddy

I know I was an accident/ I was a bastard child

Daddy left before I was born/ Before the child support was filled

Mom you always kept me in good supply of daddies along the way

I'm even counting that guy you made me call Uncle Bob/ Although I'm pretty sure he was gay

To make me fill good you always lied and told me dad got killed by a pack of goats

I don't know about that but there is one thing that I'd like to know

Did daddy have a big ass head?

Because mines as big as the moon

Did daddy have a big ass head?

Because mines all blown up like a balloon

Was he Charlie Brown or a Water Buffalo

the Elephant Man I'd like to know

Did daddy have a big ass head?

Did he use his head to flag in ships?
When he jumped real high did the sun eclipse?
When he got a hair cut was it an all day trip?

Did daddy have a big ass
Did daddy have a big ass
Did daddy have a big ass head?

He Doesn't Talk Back With Words

He doesn't talk back with words.
He doesn't have to. Sometimes you just know. Sometimes it is obvious. Like a burning bush. Or, walking away unscathed. I've been sitting on this story for a little while now. Partly because we have been dealing with this. Partly because I wanted to establish a "poster's presence" on the blog without a bias of shock or sympathy by posting this story first. Partly to put this behind us far enough to want to even share the story very far. But I've seen my queue. He can tell us things without talking.

Why were my wife and son driving in this small car? Because the milk my son had unknowingly spilt in the "safe" car had soaked into the seat and began to smell like the stench of a dead rodent. They were only going to be out a short time, so they took the Neon. She had worked a 1/2 day at the adoption agency and he had been at grandma's house. They were on their way home. A short 13 minute ride.

It was Jan 31st, one week after Wade's 3rd birthday and Michelle's first ultra-sound on the new baby, at approx 4pm when I received the proverbial dreaded call. The phone rang repeatedly, incessantly. Someone was desparate to reach me. I answered. It was my wife's voice, strained with emotion, "We've been in a bad car accident. Come as fast as you can. It's on Hwy 79. Hurry." The line went dead. Throwing down the phone, I flew from my desk chair, grabbed my coat and ran to the car. Trying to drive as fast as possible yet maintain calm and control, I hurried down the highway when suddenly the thought hit me "Did she just call me or did she call 911?". It was at that exact moment when I reached an intersection and saw the ambulance go flying by, lights and sirens ablaze. Knowing already that it was heading to the scene of my wife's accident, I tried to follow and keep up, but the ambulance soon distanced me leaving me to maneuver through the heavy afternoon traffic. Taking the shoulder on the right at about 40mph, I honked and flashed lights at cars who were trying to sneak a peek around the stalled line in front of them. Finally, when I was close enough to see the lights of the stopped rescue vehicles ahead, I made a dash across the line and took the opposite highway lane the rest of the way to the scene.

Like a 30 second MPEG video, I still recall with vivid clarity my first view of the scene. Me running the final steps toward the ambulance, my mother-in-law standing at the back of the open door. My wife sitting inside on a cushioned bench and holding my son while a squatting paramedic was feeling Wade's legs evaulating him for injuries. No blood, no visible broken bones, no external gore that I fully expected to to see. Rescue personnel were buzzing about everywhere. The ambulance interior seemed tiny and the doorway congested with various, fire, police, and rescue personnel popping their heads in and out. Seeing my family was secure for the moment, I quickly moved to look around at the chaos. A large number of on-lookers had gathered in the flat bottom field on the east side of the highway. Morbid curiosity had drawn the trailer dwellers out of their holes. Drivers of vehicles who narrowly missed being involved in the accident huddled and hurriedly recanted what just transpired before their disbelieving eyes. The scene was charged with the the kind of energy we humans exhalt in the aftermath of a catastriphic event like a devastating storm.

As I looked about, I began to spot the wrecked vehicles. A southbound red 95 Monte Carlo with a smashed rear end, some demolished car about 40 yards into the field-trailer dwellers nearby, a silver 2002 Hyundai Sante Fe with a crushed front end resembled a half smashed aluminum can. Not until after a double take of the scene did I realize the scrap of metal remains in the field was what was left of what was once "The Neon". That was our car? My sickened stomach sank into a bottomless pit which was quite a steep fall from being stuck in my throat. Already pale from shock, my face turned ash white.

TO BE CONTINUED........

Avoid Making a Bad Situation Worse

Here is my public service message for the day. Do with it what you will.

I'm gonna tell you two names. You can probably figure out what I'm going to say once you read them: Terri Schiavo. Nancy Cruzan. You see where I'm headed. Nancy Cruzan was 25 when the car wreck occurred that changed her life; Terri Schiavo was 26 when she entered the condition now at the center of the battle in Florida.

I received an e-mail today from The Missouri Bar. The bar president's mother-in-law had Alzheimer's. He is trying to prevent other families from experiencing the implosion that often occurs when making important health decisions for another family member who has become incapacitated. The bar encourages people to "establish[] advance directives regarding future health care decisions" to "ensure that a person's wishes are met" and to "relieve families from having to make difficult decisions at a time of great stress."

If these goals interest you, and you live in Missouri, you might want to download the Durable Power of Attorney for Health Care and Health Care Directive forms and the accompanying HIPAA form provided and recently revised by The Missouri Bar.

The form compiled by the bar is generic, so it does not necessarily meet everyone's needs. If you think it will work for you, then you should gather 'round your loved ones and talk about it. That's what my hubby and I will be doing this weekend. Please don't wait until it's too late.

Congrats, ye Packer Fans!

I just wanted to say congratulations to all my faithful readers who are Packer fans. I know you are excited (relieved?) to hear that Brett Favre is returning for at least one more season. I'm also glad to hear his wife is doing well in her cancer treatments.

It's always fun to watch Favre play, but what about the time between now and then? Will the Brewers make the time pass quickly? Or will they will make the time pass in the excruciating fashion that the solution drips from an I. V. Bag?

Too bad they have to play the Cardinals so much.

The Mouths of Babes

Our Pastor, Dale, said during the Taize Service tonight that his son Will had asked him what God looks like. It shook me a little because yesterday Willa asked me if anyone had ever seen God. As Dale said, "What do you tell a child? What do you tell yourself?"

I told Willa I had never known anyone who had seen God. In fact, I suspect most people would rather not run into him. "Why?" she asked with complete innocence. I told her it was bit like the mascots. They are exciting and she loves them, but when she gets right up face to face with them, she trembles with fright. God would be like Truman the Tiger and Fred Bird and Mo the Mule and all the other mascots rolled up into a mascot the size of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

I thought this might scare her considering her fear of mascots, but she kept going. "Has anyone ever talked to God?"

People talk to God all the time. That's what prayer is.

"Does he talk back?"

He doesn't talk back with words. I think he knows how frightening that would be. He can tell us things without talking. Well, he could, I guess, if we were quiet enough, if we slowed down enough and if we paid enough attention.

In the end Dale was right. We don't know much more than the children. We've come so far and learned so little. When you answer those surprisingly prescient questions from the mouths of babes, pay close attention to your answer. You'll probably learn something.

UPDATE: Check out Andys's blog to see the wisdom of his son.

My Grandpa

Yesterday, my friend Boz sent me a link to a great column about World War II veterans. On the surface this may not seem like much. But I thought this blog would be a perfect place to tell you what Boz has done for my family and my Grandpa.

My Grandpa was a POW during World War II. He didn't like to talk about it much. He did show us a little book that he wrote in while he was in the prison camp. I remember seeing line after line of the foods he loved to eat. That's about all I knew.

Then I was talking to Boz one day and discovered he was involved in a project looking to document the stories of these POWs. He told me that he interviewed the POW and added his account to the archives. I decided it would great if my Grandpa was able to give his story to Boz.

Boz interviewed my Grandpa and put together a transcript for him to review. My Grandpa reviewed it. I found out the last time I was home that he will be getting a bound copy. Everyone in our family will be able check it out.

So I just want to say, Boz, you the man. I'm really looking forward to reading that transcript.

The Darn Tiggers

The season was already lost for the Tigers, but it is always nice to see the Jayhawks go down. There will be no one seed for the Jayhawks. Now, I can root for them to lose in the first round of the NCAA tourney. Do you think Quinn saved his job yesterday? Do you think he deserves another year at the helm?

It was a nice college basketball day in Missouri yesterday. In addition to MU's Flaming Jayhawk, the SMS Bears served up some Fried Saluki in the semifinals of the Missouri Valley Conference tournament. The Bears will play the Creighton Blue Jays for the conference title tonight at 8 pm on ESPN.

And to top off yesterday's basketball, the CMSU Mules, under the guidance of former MU star Kim Anderson, won the MIAA conference tournament for the first time in 21 years. They also won the regular season title and are in the NCAA Division II tournament for the first time since 1997. The Jennies also made the tournament this year. They haven't been since 2000.

Report from the Amer-Asian Day Celebration

What a party we had last night at the Island Bar. Paulie was in rare form. He debuted a new song called 'Did Daddy have great big Head?' It was wonderful time. Dave bought me plenty of beer. I remembered most of the lyrics during my performance. And of course we all enjoyed the haunting version of "I blew a truck driver to get to you." We're all hoping to get Paul and the Violent Farmers t-shirts.

There was an actual Violent Farmer band last night. Well, there was guy backing Paul up on Cowbell. Good work Josh! And the 'Ku Kung Fu Fighting' finale brought down the house. Paulie made me learn that right before the show, so I could play it for him. It was pretty cool.

Jeff has suggested I try to find a venue for a show here in the 'Burg with Jeff, Paul, and myself performing. I think I can do that. I will keep everyone updated.

Happy Amer-Asian Day!

Is it a coincidence that Paulie makes his first post on the eve of the great Amer-Asian Day Celebration? I don't know. But if you live in the KC area I implore you not miss the festivities. The fun starts at 8 pm at the Island Bar in Lee's Summit. I will open with a short set, and then Paulie will take the stage. If you haven't seen his show his style of music embraces an eclectic set of obvious influences including Jack Black, Jimmy Buffett, Shel Silverstein, and Russ Meyer. It's beyond politically incorrect. It's hilarious.

You can't afford to miss Paul and the Violent Farmers tonight.

My Baseball Tale

I seems as if the blog is being dominated by Baseball stories, so I thought I would use my first posting to tell one of my own.
My tale starts in the sixth grade. I was not the most lithe of children and as such was not picked to participate in many sports related activities. So when I recieved the sign up sheet to play baseball for the very first time, I was overjoyed. I ran straight home to get my mom to sign my permision slip so I could start playing ball the following week.
I was relieved to find that my mom was more than happy to sign my slip. Usually she would just take a drag off her cigerette and tell me that I couldnt do it because there was probably going to be some hidden charge. I wasn't about to question her when she handed over the signed paper.
The next day I held my head up high as I presented my teacher with my cheeto stained permission slip. She looked the paper over and then said "Oh how nice. I see your mother has signed up to be a coach."
I was dumb struck. The only physical activity I had ever seen my mother do was to point me in the direction of her purse so I could get her another smoke, and now she was going to be teaching me and 8 other kids how to play baseball. Uhggg
When I got home I found my mom flipping through two books on how to play baseball that she had checked out from the library. She admitted to knowing absolutley nothing about the game, but she felt that she could learn enough from the books to teach us a "thing or two". She then proceeded to fall asleep in the chair while reading the first chapter.

The first day of practice was horrible. The chapter that she had read had shown her how to make wrist strengthening devices out of old rock filled socks attached to a stick with some twine. This being the only chapter she read she made the team do these wrist rolls for what seemed to be hours. After that she suggested that we each give ourselves nicknames to put on the back of our shirts. Without getting my input, she told everyone that my nickname was going to be "Cookie", because I liked to cook.

The next practice was more dirty sock rolls, and the official decision on what names were going on the back of our shirts. The other kids felt that "Cookie" was a great name for me, but that they would just like to have their real last names on the shirts.

By the third practice all of our wrists hurt from the sock rolls, and the kids were getting restless because we hadn't even touched a ball yet. One of the boys fathers having seen enough sock rolling, grabbed a bat and ball and started hitting grounders to us. My mom was furious. She asked the father what he thought he was doing, and he said "Actually practicing" and then my mom said "Fine, then you can do it without me!! Come on Cookie."

And that my friends is the first ever time I got to be part of a baseball team. It doesn't quite bring back the same fond memories as your stories, but it does hold a place in my heart.

Jeff the Bird Dog

Jeff reads my post about the Cardinals and responds that he too is delighted that the spring bird watching season is upon us. He's never heard of this 'Pujols' species of which I speak so highly.

This brings us to an important point on this blog. We need to figure out where Jeff grew up. Did he really grow up amongst us so near to Busch stadium? How did he develop this apathy for everything Cardinal with us all around him?

One of my great memories from high school was in the fall of 1985. I guess Jeff had gone off to college by then. After school one October afternoon we raced over to Brenda's house to watch the end of the playoff game between our beloved Cardinals and the Dodgers. I'm not sure who all was there, but we were crowded in the basement hanging on every pitch.

This was the day that Ozzie hit his first left-handed home run ever to beat the Dodgers in Game 5. Jack Clark would homer to beat them in Game 6 sending the Birds on to the World series.

Do you guys have memories like these? Does Jeff? I think he may be an alien.

I have many, many more memories like these. I think ,soon, I will relate to you the ole' Milt Thompson Broken Bat game on here. I think it was Myron that was with me that night.

That's a Winner

Well, it's on us. The single game tickets go on sale Saturday. Cardinal fever has been creeping up my face ever since the pitchers and catchers reported. The winter hibernation is almost over. I'm waking from my dreams of Rick Ankiel tossing strike after strike.

Of course, I am optimistic. The four game sweep in the series was tough (especially since I was going to game 5). But I think they can make it back and give it another crack.

They must stay healthy. Pujols, Rolen, and Edmonds need to play as many games as possible and be healthy when the playoffs roll around.

They must get some good starting pitching. The three biggest keys will be Mulder, Carpenter, and Morris. Can Mulder rebound? Can Carpenter stay healthy and pitch as he did last season? Will Morris rebound the way Duncan and LaRussa believe?

In some ways it doesn't even matter. I'll watch as much as I can even if they aren't playoff bound. It's worth it to see the effort that Pujols, Rolen, Edmonds, and Walker will put out on a daily basis. That truly is a special group of players.