The clock ticks....

I woke up.  That's how it started two weeks ago.  When I was younger it would have been a minor nuisance

that would  have been brushed away as easily as the cobweb highlighted in the dewy morning as I run the

trails and greenways in Nashville.  It was a sharp pain in both hips and lower back that ran down both my

legs.  I tried the old standbys.....a heating pad, advil and stretching more before and after my runs.  I even

changed my chair at work seeking relief.  I had a run approaching, a 13.1 mile run that was flat and fast.  I

had worked up to 35 - 40 miles of running per week in training.  I had the fastest run since I was in the

Marines just two weeks before, a 6 mile scorcher in less than 50 minutes.  It's not Olympic qualifying time

mind you; but for me it was exhilarating, like the perfume that lingers when a beautiful woman walks past

filling your soul with hope and memories of younger days.  I ran despite the pain, pushing on and telling myself

it would go away.  I had made a commitment both monetarily and emotionally that must be fulfilled despite my

discomfort.  I would not quit, Marines don't quit we push through.  My doctor was more practical.  An xray

demonstrated a compression of the discs in my lower spine.  The effects of age, gravity and effort culminating

in nerves irritated and angry demanding treatment and rest.  Only when satisfied by both releasing me on it's

own timetable to begin running again.

He was at practice.  In the middle of a pile of tacklers, a gaggle of body parts with limbs entangled, boys

pushing and shoving towards the ground, gravity working with momentum to create chaos.  He heard it pop

and the pain was instant.  The left forearm that was straight and strong now was broken and useless as he lay

on the bottom of the pile.  He cried.  I don't blame him, I would have too.  I like to think more from the

thoughts of plays, games and a season lost but I'm sure it hurt too.  The emergency room splinted it and the

next day in surgery the physician pushed it back into place.  The thought of that is not for the faint of heart.  I

have watched this as a nurse in the operating room and it is not done with finesse but with pure brute strength

bone grinding upon bone to reset them into their original but marred form.

We watched from the sidelines last week.  He from the field and I just stayed home.  He surrounded by his

teammates and I surrounded by my guilt, my shame and a heating pad.  He dreams of tomorrow, games and

seasons yet to be played.  I dream of recapturing my youth, running forever never tiring faster and faster.  The

clock ticks for both of us, time running on without regards to who we are, who we were and what we dream.

I only hope for him that he stays a step ahead............

She would have been 43......

She would have been 43 today.  She was born on October 13th, 1967, on Friday October 13th, to be exact.

A fact that my mother reminded her jokingly all her life.  They named her Michelle White. They gave her no 

middle name, just a first and a last. Strong and simple.  She always said she wished her middle name was 

Grace like our grandmother and so my first born's middle name is Grace in her memory.  She grew up 

in the same little town that we all did, but she was special, better, and different than all of us.  She was 

beautiful from the day she was born till the day that she passed.  She had a smile that would light up a room 

and a glare that would melt the surface of the sun if you incurred her anger.  She made friends as easy as 

anyone I know and could push them aside just as quick. She had a gift, some of the older folks call it 

prophecy, where she knew immediately if you were genuine or full of it (as my father would say) just by 

looking in your eyes.  I remember she once made an issue of a choir director at our church that required a 

meeting of the deacons in which she enraged him and mocked him so much I'm told that he had to be 

restrained from coming across a table at her.  Three weeks later the church discovered he was making 1-800 

calls and promptly let him go.  She knew though.  She absolutely and I mean absolutely had to have the last 

word in a conversation.  I recall many times in conversations with my parents, my father telling her to be quiet 

and not say another word, he begin to walk away and she'd say "Fine I won't say that you're wrong", or "I 

didn't say anything in the first place", and it'd start all over again.  She was the most stubborn person I've ever 

met in my life and if you know my family, that's saying alot.  I never and I mean never saw her flinch or budge 

if she thought she was right and her cause was just.  I sometimes envy that of her as I've gotten older.  As 

much as you could love her, she still had a distance about her that only made you want to try harder to gain 

her love or approval.  My last memory of her was fixing her car the day she passed.  I know she was loved as 

the registry tells us there were over 600 people that came to pay their respects and if I remember correctly 

over a hundred cars in the funeral procession.  We all should be hope to have such a send off.

I've wondered about her alot in the last several years, what she would have accomplished, what she might 

have looked like at our age.  I imagine she'd be just as pretty, her face slightly worn over the years but still 

with a smile that would soften the hardest heart and most likely a wisdom of the years that many seek and few 

receive. I also imagined she'd have done things her own way, regardless of the consequences.  I wonder if 

she'd be proud of my accomplishments and ashamed of my failings.  I suppose even now I still seek her 

approval.  Some things never change and never will.  The only thing I know for sure is she'd be 43 today and 

I've missed her for the last 23 years.

Ashamed of us

I'm ashamed of us.  I mean I'm ashamed of us as a society.  It's gotten slowly out of hand over time and I

think we need to reexamine how we view things in todays modern society.  It's been on my mind for

sometime now but it became so apparent this week after the death of Tyler Clementi, a Rutgers University

student who jumped from a bridge after his personal life was broadcast for all to view.   Two Rutgers

students hid a web cam in Tyler's room and broadcast a sexual encounter over the web for all to see.  First

let me offer my condolences to Tyler's family and friends, suicide is a tragedy and having experienced this in

my own family I cannot grieve for you enough.  Second, let me express to you that I am ashamed that some

how we as a society would create an environment that someone, anyone would think these actions would be

appropriate or tolerated.   I suppose that these two students thought this was funny and in some ways we

are all responsible for that.  We post videos of people being embarrassed or hurt on you tube and they

get a million hits, we pay money to go see movies called JackAss or Borat where people are manipulated

into situations that are both degrading and humiliating.  These movies make millions, I believe I just saw an

advertisement for JackAss 3 so somebody's paying to see these movies.   Quite frankly I've never gotten

the comedy aspects of these movies but I know my teenagers think they are funny.  I'm ashamed of myself

now for not being more verbal about the fact they offer no socially redeemable values and permitting my

my kids to watch them.  I believe these movies, these 3 minute clips of life never show the long

lasting effects of our behavior or actions, never demonstrating the consequences known or unknown for the

participants.  So much so that they have become acceptable, that we have embraced them as a social medium

to entertain us despite their negative effects or costs to us as a society.  So far the the cost of one live video

broadcast is one promising violinist dead, two students who are likely to spend many years of their lives in

prison and a slew of family and friends grieving for all three of them.  I'm not laughing anymore and I hope you

won't either.