It's springtime here in the heartland. The grass is greening up. Buds are popping up on the trees. And stores are running sales on fertilizers and plants. Too bad the weather forecast for tonight and tomorrow calls for snow. Yep, the spring rains will be turning into snow tonight as the temperature drops and the high tomorrow is supposed to only reach into the low 30's. An accumulation of 2 to 4 inches is expected, so say the TV meteorologists. Of course, theirs is the best job in the world as they only have to be correct in their prognosis approximately 30% of the time.
This anomaly in our weather simply continues the strange winter we've had this season. Beginning in December, no one could tell what would happen from day to day. We might experience 70 degrees for two days, followed by a period of two or three days of sub-freezing weather, only to return to the high sixties. An ice storm followed closely by a day of 75 degree with abundant sunshine. The pattern has had no pattern at all.
Though in all parts of the world people like to complain about the weather, Oklahoma should have a leg up on some other places - say, my home state of California. I just visited family there and it's weather was as I remembered in early March. Cool. Not cold. Cool. Residents of the Golden state do complain when it rains for more than a couple hours. God Forbid when they get a couple days worth of precipitation, they absolutely howl. But, man, they should see what a real rainstorm is like. The kind we get here in mid-America. The kind where it rains sideways and you absolutely cannot see more than three feet in front of you. Where the wall clouds come in at such a fast pace, you are scared.
Then there's the snow. Admittedly, we don't get a whole lot here in Oklahoma. Certainly not like in other places I lived. Colorado for instance. Once, while living in Denver, we received 24 inches of snow for Thanksgiving. We were trapped in the house for about 4 days because, living in the 'burbs, no snow removal apparatus made it to neighborhood streets. They were too busy keeping the main thoroughfares clear.
Oh well, every place has it's challenges, I suppose. When Spring finally makes a permanent entrance, it is so beautiful here that it makes up for the inconvenience of a little snow right now. Except for one thing - it also brings forth tornado season. Gulp.
Old Fart Mike
Friday, March 27, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
One thing....
....you never retire from is being a parent. As anyone with children can attest, no matter how old your kids are - whether they be infants, teens, or in their thirties or forties, you absolutely never stop worrying about them.
One time, when I was in my early 40's, my mom - in her late seventies at the time, sat me down, looked me straight in the eyes, and asked me "How is your life going?" She knew I had been through a rough patch, and I had health issues, having had a heart attack a few years before at the tender age of 37. I was somewhat taken aback by her question as I was, after all, a man, raising a family with my bride of some seventeen years, consisting of three children. When I replied, "Everything's fine, Mom. Why do you ask?" Her response was "Well, I worry about you." Pressing the issue, I asked why. She responded, "Parents always worry about their kids."
Of course, at the time, I didn't think that would be the case with me. When my kids were "Grown and gone", my worries would be over. No more helping guide them through the "formative" years. Just carefree times enjoying their company as adults as they thrived and prospered.
As with most things, the wisdom of my parents didn't ring true until I reached a certain age. Just as when they were youngsters, every hurt the children experience as adults, my heart wishes I could absorb for them, sparing them the realities of life.
But, of course, this is not possible now, nor was it then. All we can do is lend a sympathetic ear and offer a hug - much like we kissed away the boo-boos and hugged them tightly when they experienced hurt as little ones.
It is, I suppose, simply part of the love parents have for their children. Something inexplicable to people who don't have children of their own.
Old Fart Mike
One time, when I was in my early 40's, my mom - in her late seventies at the time, sat me down, looked me straight in the eyes, and asked me "How is your life going?" She knew I had been through a rough patch, and I had health issues, having had a heart attack a few years before at the tender age of 37. I was somewhat taken aback by her question as I was, after all, a man, raising a family with my bride of some seventeen years, consisting of three children. When I replied, "Everything's fine, Mom. Why do you ask?" Her response was "Well, I worry about you." Pressing the issue, I asked why. She responded, "Parents always worry about their kids."
Of course, at the time, I didn't think that would be the case with me. When my kids were "Grown and gone", my worries would be over. No more helping guide them through the "formative" years. Just carefree times enjoying their company as adults as they thrived and prospered.
As with most things, the wisdom of my parents didn't ring true until I reached a certain age. Just as when they were youngsters, every hurt the children experience as adults, my heart wishes I could absorb for them, sparing them the realities of life.
But, of course, this is not possible now, nor was it then. All we can do is lend a sympathetic ear and offer a hug - much like we kissed away the boo-boos and hugged them tightly when they experienced hurt as little ones.
It is, I suppose, simply part of the love parents have for their children. Something inexplicable to people who don't have children of their own.
Old Fart Mike
Friday, March 20, 2009
Tired of her
I am soooo sick to death of hearing about the "Octo-mom" - aren't you? Good Grief, this idiot woman, who has 14 children now and is thriving from all the attention she is getting makes me want to puke.
How in the world can she afford the collagen filled lips and manicured fingernails that are so obvious to all? Too many payments from People or US magazine and Entertainment Tonight? Why are the American people still interested in this drag on society? She and her in-vitro children will end up costing the taxpayers as much as the greedy AIG executives and their incredible bonuses.
She has replaced Anna Nicole Smith as the saga of a train wreck that too many folks can't turn away from.
AARGH!!!!
Old Fart Mike
How in the world can she afford the collagen filled lips and manicured fingernails that are so obvious to all? Too many payments from People or US magazine and Entertainment Tonight? Why are the American people still interested in this drag on society? She and her in-vitro children will end up costing the taxpayers as much as the greedy AIG executives and their incredible bonuses.
She has replaced Anna Nicole Smith as the saga of a train wreck that too many folks can't turn away from.
AARGH!!!!
Old Fart Mike
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
On my mind...
Like a lot of people, it's hard NOT to be po'ed these days. Here's just a few things that have me seeing red:
AIG & THEIR $%#&*@* BONUSES It's not like I'm against bailing out the big companies whose bankruptcy would cause the loss of even more jobs and such - but then for those greedy executives to take million dollar bonuses after accepting $170 billion dollars from the government - well, it is incredibly shameless!
Contract or not, these guys should be made to pay it back. Didn't we (the Government, and therefore the American Taxpayer) become a partial owner of the company when we lent the money to them? If I'm correct in this assumption, we should enforce our ownership rights and deny these "bonuses". After all, these same folks are the ones who made the decisions who drove AIG into the position of having to need a government bailout to survive.
THE POPE I was baptized as a Catholic sometime when I was under 6 months old. Confirmed at 13 years old, and am still (somewhat) a practicing Catholic. However, I disagree with many of the church's positions on issues. Yesterday, during a visit to Africa where AIDS runs rampant, Pope Benedict declared that the use of condoms is not the answer to stemming the spread of this dreaded disease. Further, he opined that abstinence is the only way to prevent it.
Good Grief! By invoking this pronouncement, Pope Benedict put himself on an intellectual par with Bristol Palin. The typical African he is speaking to is not going to abstain from having sex. Catholics wonder why they are losing the battle in Africa - and throughout the world - in conversions to the oldest Christian religion. This is only one of the reasons. Unrealistic comments like this do nothing to further the spread of Catholicism, let alone reduce infections and deaths from AIDS.
BERNIE MADOFF I know I've ranted about this greedy idiot before, but then I read an article in today's newspaper, by right-wing columnist Cal Thomas, who seemd to give Madoff a mea culpa for his greediness. In his column, Thomsa kinda, sorta blamed the investors for not investigating Madoff further about his boast of 10% annual return on investment. Poor, Poor Bernie, he seemed to say.
Are you kidding me? How can anyone defend this guy? He lied, cheated, bilked his investors out of $50 billion dollars - cooking the books and promising them riches they would never see, all the while living the lavish lifestyle, and socking away the money.
Of course, Thomas, the columnist, is one of those guys who never met a rich person he didn't like - and thinks the poor are the scourge of the world, not worthy of welfare, food stamps, or other "entitlement" programs. I suppose he has never had anyone in his family who has had to make use of these programs. That's what I usually find among people who bash them so much. They have never known anyone who, through no fault of their own, have fallen upon hard times and had to ask for help.
That's enough of my ranting for today.
Old Fart Mike
AIG & THEIR $%#&*@* BONUSES It's not like I'm against bailing out the big companies whose bankruptcy would cause the loss of even more jobs and such - but then for those greedy executives to take million dollar bonuses after accepting $170 billion dollars from the government - well, it is incredibly shameless!
Contract or not, these guys should be made to pay it back. Didn't we (the Government, and therefore the American Taxpayer) become a partial owner of the company when we lent the money to them? If I'm correct in this assumption, we should enforce our ownership rights and deny these "bonuses". After all, these same folks are the ones who made the decisions who drove AIG into the position of having to need a government bailout to survive.
THE POPE I was baptized as a Catholic sometime when I was under 6 months old. Confirmed at 13 years old, and am still (somewhat) a practicing Catholic. However, I disagree with many of the church's positions on issues. Yesterday, during a visit to Africa where AIDS runs rampant, Pope Benedict declared that the use of condoms is not the answer to stemming the spread of this dreaded disease. Further, he opined that abstinence is the only way to prevent it.
Good Grief! By invoking this pronouncement, Pope Benedict put himself on an intellectual par with Bristol Palin. The typical African he is speaking to is not going to abstain from having sex. Catholics wonder why they are losing the battle in Africa - and throughout the world - in conversions to the oldest Christian religion. This is only one of the reasons. Unrealistic comments like this do nothing to further the spread of Catholicism, let alone reduce infections and deaths from AIDS.
BERNIE MADOFF I know I've ranted about this greedy idiot before, but then I read an article in today's newspaper, by right-wing columnist Cal Thomas, who seemd to give Madoff a mea culpa for his greediness. In his column, Thomsa kinda, sorta blamed the investors for not investigating Madoff further about his boast of 10% annual return on investment. Poor, Poor Bernie, he seemed to say.
Are you kidding me? How can anyone defend this guy? He lied, cheated, bilked his investors out of $50 billion dollars - cooking the books and promising them riches they would never see, all the while living the lavish lifestyle, and socking away the money.
Of course, Thomas, the columnist, is one of those guys who never met a rich person he didn't like - and thinks the poor are the scourge of the world, not worthy of welfare, food stamps, or other "entitlement" programs. I suppose he has never had anyone in his family who has had to make use of these programs. That's what I usually find among people who bash them so much. They have never known anyone who, through no fault of their own, have fallen upon hard times and had to ask for help.
That's enough of my ranting for today.
Old Fart Mike
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
St. Paddy's Day
'Tis the day where everybody wears green. Or, as my father used to say with a replicated Irish brogue, "There are two kinds of people in the world - those that are Irish, and those that wish they were". My dad, of course, was 100% Irish, coming from Hughes and Cusick stock. Neither names sound as Irish as say Madden, which was another of the familial ancestry names I know.
My dad was incredibly proud of his heritage and would never hesitate to tell people how he came from Irish stock. He was not born in Ireland, nor was either his father, mother, or grandparents, But his Great Grandparents were. His Great Grandfather Hughes carried the name I do - Michael, and, according to my dad, came from County Cork. The Great Grandparents migrated to the U.S. sometime in the late 1830's at the beginning of the Potato famine. Unfortunately, I don't know much about the Cusick (my grandmother's maiden name) background, but vaguely recall my dad saying they migrated here during the famine too.
Dad was a card-carrying member of the Ancient order of Hibernians - an Irish Catholic society formed in the 1850's. See http://www.aoh.com/pages/aoh_history.html However, I cannot remember him ever going to a meeting of the group. I think he belonged so he could further his claim on being Irish. I do remember seeing their newsletters around the house, and him, in his easy chair reading them.
Born in Chicago, the Hughes family were not "Lace Curtain" Irish. They were laborers. So were the Cusicks. However, the Cusicks lived in a compound-like area, consisting of several houses on the South side known as Cusick Village. My grandmother Hughes (nee Cusick) was one of 13 children of this obviously large Irish Catholic family. One of her brothers, Bill Cusick, gained some notoriety as a police sergeant in Chicago during the 30's and 40's, and for commanding a squad of officers who shot and killed Ralph Capone, the brother of Al, the notorious gangster.
In fact, Uncle Bill Cusick, with whom my father had a love/hate relationship for all of their lives, was the reason for our move to California. At my grandmothers (and Uncle Bill's sister) funeral, Bill offered my dad a job in California. It was as a Security Guard. Bill had been hired a couple years previously as Director of Security for Gilfillan. With my dad at loose ends after the passing of his mother, a few weeks later, he called Bill and told him he was coming. I was 7 years old at the time.
The pride in being Irish never relented in my dad, or his 3 sons. My older brother, namesake of my dad, named his 4 boys with Irish sounding names - Daniel Patrick, Timothy Brian, Christopher Kevin, and James Joseph. I, for whatever reason, was able to find the love of my life in Nebraska. Her name? Colleen Kirkpatrick. We named our children Shannon Maureen, Ryan Michael, And Kevin Kirkpatrick.
I know my kids and my nephews also share that same pride in their Irish heritage. It is but one of the many things my old man passed on to us. So, Dad, Happy St. Paddy's Day! Though you've been gone almost 30 years now, I still think of you all the time, Especially on March 17th.
Old Fart Mike
My dad was incredibly proud of his heritage and would never hesitate to tell people how he came from Irish stock. He was not born in Ireland, nor was either his father, mother, or grandparents, But his Great Grandparents were. His Great Grandfather Hughes carried the name I do - Michael, and, according to my dad, came from County Cork. The Great Grandparents migrated to the U.S. sometime in the late 1830's at the beginning of the Potato famine. Unfortunately, I don't know much about the Cusick (my grandmother's maiden name) background, but vaguely recall my dad saying they migrated here during the famine too.
Dad was a card-carrying member of the Ancient order of Hibernians - an Irish Catholic society formed in the 1850's. See http://www.aoh.com/pages/aoh_history.html However, I cannot remember him ever going to a meeting of the group. I think he belonged so he could further his claim on being Irish. I do remember seeing their newsletters around the house, and him, in his easy chair reading them.
Born in Chicago, the Hughes family were not "Lace Curtain" Irish. They were laborers. So were the Cusicks. However, the Cusicks lived in a compound-like area, consisting of several houses on the South side known as Cusick Village. My grandmother Hughes (nee Cusick) was one of 13 children of this obviously large Irish Catholic family. One of her brothers, Bill Cusick, gained some notoriety as a police sergeant in Chicago during the 30's and 40's, and for commanding a squad of officers who shot and killed Ralph Capone, the brother of Al, the notorious gangster.
In fact, Uncle Bill Cusick, with whom my father had a love/hate relationship for all of their lives, was the reason for our move to California. At my grandmothers (and Uncle Bill's sister) funeral, Bill offered my dad a job in California. It was as a Security Guard. Bill had been hired a couple years previously as Director of Security for Gilfillan. With my dad at loose ends after the passing of his mother, a few weeks later, he called Bill and told him he was coming. I was 7 years old at the time.
The pride in being Irish never relented in my dad, or his 3 sons. My older brother, namesake of my dad, named his 4 boys with Irish sounding names - Daniel Patrick, Timothy Brian, Christopher Kevin, and James Joseph. I, for whatever reason, was able to find the love of my life in Nebraska. Her name? Colleen Kirkpatrick. We named our children Shannon Maureen, Ryan Michael, And Kevin Kirkpatrick.
I know my kids and my nephews also share that same pride in their Irish heritage. It is but one of the many things my old man passed on to us. So, Dad, Happy St. Paddy's Day! Though you've been gone almost 30 years now, I still think of you all the time, Especially on March 17th.
Old Fart Mike
Monday, March 16, 2009
The house is a mess....
....and I'm exhausted, but it was so great having my boy(s) visit this weekend!
So, as I wrote last time, my youngest son surprised us with a visit this past weekend, showing up on Thursday morning at 4:00 AM after driving some 12 hours from Denver with his girlfriend and almost 5 month old puppy. Our oldest son then came on Saturday, with his girlfriend and 2 puppies - a 7 month old and a 5 month old. The dogs are all big dogs. They are not little yappers. One is a full-bred Golden Retriever; the other two are mixes of German Shepherds and other breeds. My dog is a Golden also, but is relatively small, weighing around 55 pounds as she is suffering from cancer in her old age.
In any case, having them all here was terrific, but somewhat tiring when you are not used to it - mostly because keeping up with 4 frisky dogs can be a handful. Our older pooch, Lexus, who has been alone since the death of her brother and litter mate this past Thanksgiving day, was more animated than we've seen her since then. She took quite a liking to son #2's five month old Golden Retriever, kind of adopting him as her puppy. She'd play with him as only dogs do, biting each other a bit with their soft mouths, and when he got too rambunctious, barking at him to back him off. All this worked just fine until the arrival of son #1 with his two dogs.
Son #1's 7 month old dog is a playful sort and is, we think, part German Shepherd and Border Collie. He is mostly black in color - which makes him different from all the other dogs present in our domicile this weekend. He is also an instigator, much like the 5 month old Golden of son #2. Consequently, those two were playing all the time. Bear in mind here that both dogs, though puppies, are large - weighing 50 pounds or more - and are going to be even bigger as they reach adulthood. So when they play, they can move entire tables with their tails.
My old dog watched this playing with a cautious eye, and participated with all three of the other dogs. To a point. However, being the "Elder", she also is the wiser, and, as I mentioned earlier, she had adopted the 5 month old Golden as her boy. So, when things got particularly wild, my dog would intervene. Especially when it was between the 7 month old black German Shepherd mix and "Her boy", the 5 month old Golden. More than once, she bared her teeth and barked, when those two were mixing it up. She was concerned that the Shepherd was getting the best of her boy, and might be hurting him. We think. Or, as my wife surmised, she might be a closet racist. Let's hope not. I taught my kids not to be bigoted, and hope that lesson was passed on to my dogs. But you just never know, I guess.
The weekend was terrific though, despite the occasional flare-up of the dogs. My son, his girlfriend, and their 5 month old puppy left early this morning for Denver. I know I won't see them for several months. It truly hasn't been until the last few years that I know how my parents must have felt when I left home, moved to another state, and visited infrequently. Phone calls are nice; and the ability to use the camera on a computer helps you to see and talk to them, but nothing - absolutely nothing - beats the ability to hug your kids in person, and see what fine adults they've grown up to be. Unfortunately, it also makes it harder to say goodbye each time they leave.
Old Fart Mike
So, as I wrote last time, my youngest son surprised us with a visit this past weekend, showing up on Thursday morning at 4:00 AM after driving some 12 hours from Denver with his girlfriend and almost 5 month old puppy. Our oldest son then came on Saturday, with his girlfriend and 2 puppies - a 7 month old and a 5 month old. The dogs are all big dogs. They are not little yappers. One is a full-bred Golden Retriever; the other two are mixes of German Shepherds and other breeds. My dog is a Golden also, but is relatively small, weighing around 55 pounds as she is suffering from cancer in her old age.
In any case, having them all here was terrific, but somewhat tiring when you are not used to it - mostly because keeping up with 4 frisky dogs can be a handful. Our older pooch, Lexus, who has been alone since the death of her brother and litter mate this past Thanksgiving day, was more animated than we've seen her since then. She took quite a liking to son #2's five month old Golden Retriever, kind of adopting him as her puppy. She'd play with him as only dogs do, biting each other a bit with their soft mouths, and when he got too rambunctious, barking at him to back him off. All this worked just fine until the arrival of son #1 with his two dogs.
Son #1's 7 month old dog is a playful sort and is, we think, part German Shepherd and Border Collie. He is mostly black in color - which makes him different from all the other dogs present in our domicile this weekend. He is also an instigator, much like the 5 month old Golden of son #2. Consequently, those two were playing all the time. Bear in mind here that both dogs, though puppies, are large - weighing 50 pounds or more - and are going to be even bigger as they reach adulthood. So when they play, they can move entire tables with their tails.
My old dog watched this playing with a cautious eye, and participated with all three of the other dogs. To a point. However, being the "Elder", she also is the wiser, and, as I mentioned earlier, she had adopted the 5 month old Golden as her boy. So, when things got particularly wild, my dog would intervene. Especially when it was between the 7 month old black German Shepherd mix and "Her boy", the 5 month old Golden. More than once, she bared her teeth and barked, when those two were mixing it up. She was concerned that the Shepherd was getting the best of her boy, and might be hurting him. We think. Or, as my wife surmised, she might be a closet racist. Let's hope not. I taught my kids not to be bigoted, and hope that lesson was passed on to my dogs. But you just never know, I guess.
The weekend was terrific though, despite the occasional flare-up of the dogs. My son, his girlfriend, and their 5 month old puppy left early this morning for Denver. I know I won't see them for several months. It truly hasn't been until the last few years that I know how my parents must have felt when I left home, moved to another state, and visited infrequently. Phone calls are nice; and the ability to use the camera on a computer helps you to see and talk to them, but nothing - absolutely nothing - beats the ability to hug your kids in person, and see what fine adults they've grown up to be. Unfortunately, it also makes it harder to say goodbye each time they leave.
Old Fart Mike
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Earlier than usual
I am an early riser. Always have been. When I was still working I longed for the day when I could sleep in. But that day never came. My inside-the-head alarm clock continues to go off sometime between 5:00 and 6:00 a.m. regardless of what time I go to bed.
This morning, however, I awoke even earlier. 4:05 A.M.!! My wife, who stays up late most nights, or gets up in the middle of the night, and then returns to bed, and becomes difficult to arise, actually jumped - and I mean jumped - out of bed before me. The reason? Our garage door inexplicably went up. This, of course, can cause some fear for two old farts living alone with their equally old golden retriever, who began to bark.
Fortunately I don't own a gun, as it was the surprise arrival of my youngest son, his longtime girlfriend, and their four-month old puppy.They had made the 12 hour drive from Denver to surprise us - and the surprise worked! Mom, in her nightgown, greeted them first, as I struggled with finding the jeans I was wearing the night before.
Hugs and kisses were shared - as well as some serious butt sniffing by the two dogs, one old and frail, the other nearly as big and bounding with energy. We sat for just a while, talking and having a couple of newly acquired girl scout cookies - there wasn't much food in the house as I had just returned from a 2 week trip to Southern California visiting relatives and Laughlin, Nevada, helping to plan an upcoming high school reunion.
My son and his wonderful lady then retired to bed at about 5:00 A.M. They hadn't slept for 24 hours, as both worked yesterday, and drove through the night to visit his mom & dad. My wife had to go to her part time job, and I stayed up, since I was too excited to hit the sack. I'm about to head to the grocery store to stock up on supplies before they awake.
I don't know about anyone else, but I'd be glad to get up at 4 - or 3 - or whenever - if a child who I see only a couple times a year comes calling. Those of us empty nesters realize how important these visits are.
Old Fart Mike
This morning, however, I awoke even earlier. 4:05 A.M.!! My wife, who stays up late most nights, or gets up in the middle of the night, and then returns to bed, and becomes difficult to arise, actually jumped - and I mean jumped - out of bed before me. The reason? Our garage door inexplicably went up. This, of course, can cause some fear for two old farts living alone with their equally old golden retriever, who began to bark.
Fortunately I don't own a gun, as it was the surprise arrival of my youngest son, his longtime girlfriend, and their four-month old puppy.They had made the 12 hour drive from Denver to surprise us - and the surprise worked! Mom, in her nightgown, greeted them first, as I struggled with finding the jeans I was wearing the night before.
Hugs and kisses were shared - as well as some serious butt sniffing by the two dogs, one old and frail, the other nearly as big and bounding with energy. We sat for just a while, talking and having a couple of newly acquired girl scout cookies - there wasn't much food in the house as I had just returned from a 2 week trip to Southern California visiting relatives and Laughlin, Nevada, helping to plan an upcoming high school reunion.
My son and his wonderful lady then retired to bed at about 5:00 A.M. They hadn't slept for 24 hours, as both worked yesterday, and drove through the night to visit his mom & dad. My wife had to go to her part time job, and I stayed up, since I was too excited to hit the sack. I'm about to head to the grocery store to stock up on supplies before they awake.
I don't know about anyone else, but I'd be glad to get up at 4 - or 3 - or whenever - if a child who I see only a couple times a year comes calling. Those of us empty nesters realize how important these visits are.
Old Fart Mike
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