Yield To Pedestrians

In my last post I referenced how I used to have a temper. On occasion this temper got the better of me, especially in sports, and I would sometimes get into "verbal disagreements." I am proud to say that I have never been in a fist fight. I have unfortunately been quite close on multiple occasions. Needless to say, this isn't the best trait to have and for that reason I have repeatedly tried to suppress this emotion. I have been pretty successful at it, but this last week I might have had a little bit of a relapse.
For this to make sense you need to understand something about me. I have this sense of duty and justice that at times seems a little extreme, but for me is real all the same. While reading a biography of Abraham Lincoln I came upon this great quote from our former president, "Let us have faith that right is might, and let us in that faith, to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it." I love the simplicity of it, but also the power in saying Do what you are supposed to do. Now that you understand that, we can begin the story.
It was lunch time on Thursday, and I was walking to my next class with some friends. We had to cross a street so we waited at the cross-walk until it was appropriate to cross. As we started out a bunch of cars on the opposite side of the street sped up so that they would not have to stop. Some were still crossing in front of us (now going much faster than they should have) as we were getting to the side of the street where they would be able to hit us. I was a little perturbed by the idiocy of the situation and yelled "are you kidding me!" Another side note--I come from a state where there is an unwritten code of driving ethics that involves being courteous and driving in a way that others can feel safe. Currently I live in a state where it is a mad dash to drive as crazy and fast as you can to simply stop at the red light in front of you. It drives me crazy how people are in such a hurry to get nowhere that they will often endanger other drivers and pedestrians--Enough of that rant and back to the story. Like I said, I was a little mad that the people decided they would rather speed up and risk hitting me only to hit the red light three hundred yards away, instead of slowing down and yielding so I could safely cross. As I yelled at the cars a motorcyclist just so happened to be driving by as well. He evidently heard me as he turned into the parking lot about fifty feet away and waited. He was a big Polynesian guy, and when he pointed in my direction I thought it might be to acknowledge the Polynesians walking behind me, but I pointed back just in case he was directing his point to me, I mean I didn't want to be rude :) As I got closer to this guy he called out "Did you say something to me?" and I immediately replied, "Ya I said are you KIDDING ME?" I don't think he liked that as he started to follow me on his motorcycle saying things to the extent of "Did I hit you?" I responded that he hadn't but then informed him that it is the law to yield to pedestrians, especially when they are legally crossing on a crosswalk. He really didn't like this and we bantered back and forth while my friends tried to pull me away. I understand their reasoning, because had this come to blows I am pretty sure I would have become pretty bloody and most likely lost consciousness (this guy was big). Anyway, luckily it didn't come to that but I did have the last word telling the guy to go back to driving school.
Yes this whole exchange was fairly childish of me and I should have just let it go, but like the quote I feel that right is might, but I also feel that right is right no matter what. I especially feel so when it comes to driving safely and protecting pedestrians. I also feel that right is right even when you might get your face caved in. I actually think that is what gives me the thrill of talking back. Because as I look back in my life the majority of my "verbal disagreements" that could have resulted in blood and warfare were with guys who outweighed me by at least 50 pounds. It must have to do with the enjoyment I found from fighting my older brother which I always lost. Maybe by being a younger brother I am bound to pick fights that are beyond my capabilities, but you know what, I'm willing to be the superhero who stands up for what is right but always gets beat up, because like my buddy Abe said right is might.

Beware the ides of Thanksgiving

Yes I know the title of this blog doesn't make much sense. The word "ides" refers to the 13 or 15 of the month in the roman calender depending on the month, and since Thanksgiving is not on of the months on the roman calender my title pretty much is nonsensical. If you, my devote non-comment writing reader, are familiar with an old friend of mine named Julius Caesar, then you might just happen to see the method to my madness (yes that too is a quote). "Beware the ides of March" was the warning given Caesar, as the 15 of March would ultimately become his death day. Enough of meaningless trivia and vocabulary. I once again find myself writing about death and I truly am starting to worry. Last week I wrote about the grandfather who passed away on Thanksgiving. This week I get to add to that tally. My friend's grandmother also passed away on Thanksgiving. I would stop there if that were all I had to say, but the story, unfortunately, goes on.
This last Tuesday, I received a phone call from a friend. He asked me if I had heard about our mutual friend Bruce and I said no. My buddy then informed me that Bruce had died on the day before Thanksgiving. Maybe now you understand my warning about Thanksgiving. Bruce's passing has really affected me. I am not normally prone to great displays of emotion, or even letting things affect me that much. Usually I am able to allow things to roll off my shoulder and quickly move on, even in the face of death. I know that really doesn't sound like the best way of dealing with things, and I agree, but I am how I am. I think it goes back to me learning to control my temper and having to not let emotion dictate my actions. I digress though. Bruce's passing has really affect me for multiple reasons. The first is that I considered him a pretty good friend. Yes he was 23 years my senior, but I really had a friendship with him. This was the first time a friend of mine has died. I've known people who have died, but usually they are much older, or in the case of the girl my grade who died, I learned about her death almost a year after the fact. In Bruce's case, we were friends, and I found out about his death pretty quickly. The second reason his death has really affected me is that I wasn't really happy with him after the last time we had been together. He had been rude to me and insulted me. Before he had done so I had felt like I should bring him a magazine to help inspire him. I had done this before and am not certain if it had really made a difference in his life, but I really try to do the things I feel I should do. In this case, after he treated me poorly I no longer wanted to do this for him, despite feeling I should. I now regret letting his actions dictate my actions. This situation might not make much sense to you, as I am being a little vague and you probably don't have much background on this situation, but needless to say I feel really bad that I will never be able to do a small act of kindness for my friend again. He is gone, and I allowed his actions to prevent me from acting how I felt I should. I miss him, and will use this experience to help motivate myself to act how I should act regardless of the actions of others.
Now onto a subject entirely unrelated to death. My teacher gave me an assignment this week to find someone more stressed than me and then do something nice for them. I literally laughed to myself when he said this because Lenora stresses more than probably anyone I know. This made it easy for me to fulfill this assignment. Lenora had a lot of homework to do this weekend so I decided that the best way to fulfill my assignment of being nice to Lenora was to go skiing. Yes that's right I went skiing in order to be nice to my wife. No we don't hate each other, quite the opposite actually, but I knew she needed a lot of time alone so she could do her homework. As my dad would say, "somebody has to make the sacrifice." My sacrifice just so happened to be going skiing. On a more serious note I did do more to be nice. One night she was gone for a bit and I cleaned up a lot of the house, and when she came home she saw me cleaning the front room and asked "what are you doing?" She thought I couldn't stand the mess anymore and just had to clean up. That goes to show you how much I clean. I guess that can become one of my new year's resolutions...help clean up more. Anyway, this blog is entirely too long, but some times that is how the cookie crumbles.

Things I am Thankful For

It being the week of Thanksgiving I feel it fitting to blog about Thanksgiving and that great tradition of stating for what I am thankful. First I must admit that I didn't get to do this during my Thanksgiving dinner. During the dinner the host came in and said, "I don't know how else to say this but . . . Grandpa is dead." If you were ever wondering how to kill all conversation, wonder no more. It wasn't my grandfather who died so no need for condolences, not that anyone other than my sister ever comments on my blog anyway, and I'd feel pretty bad if she was finding out that our grandpa died by reading my blog. Anyway, to not dwell on death as I find my blog seemingly often doing, I will list some of the things I am so glad to have.
1. My Family-this includes my wife, my parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles and even in laws
2. My health and my family's health
3. The ability to read and write-sounds strange but think how different life would be if you were illiterate... kind of scary huh
4. My religion and the hope and security it brings
5. A warm house
6. Being an American living in America-if you don't get this go live in another country for a couple years and then you will really know what screwed up means
7. Clean clothes
8. A warm shower on occasion
9. The right to bear arms
10. The internet and telecommunications with which my generation is so blessed

I could go on and on, but I feel ten will suffice for Sunday night.

Debonair

So ever since the beginning of the month I have been growing out my mustache. I really like how that word can be spelled moustache or mustache, but according to dictionary.com the latter is the US spelling. Because I dwell among the free and the brave, I guess I will spell the awesome growth of hair on my upper lip as so: mustache. You might be wondering why I would do such a seemingly nasty thing as to grow a mustache. You are not alone. Actually by wondering and asking me you are helping me to accomplish my goal. You see, the month formerly known as November has be renamed as Movember, all in an effort to raise men's health awareness. If this tidbit of teasery has tickled your fancy I would mosey on over to the website www.movember.com for further information concerning Movember. To put it simply though, men dedicate their upper lip to the month of Movember to help raise awareness of health issues men can come by and to promote and encourage me to be manly enough to visit the doctor. It is a little ironic that I am doing this since I really dislike going to the doctor's office, but I wanted to do what I could. The whole thing is kind of like a breast cancer awareness month but for men. I wonder if during breast cancer awareness months women should go around topless? Just a thought...Back to the story. I don't really grow that strong of a mustache and usually am ashamed of the fact since I grow, in my opinion, a pretty sweet beard. This month however I have overcome myself and reveled in the questions and stares. I even had a professor stop mid-sentence and ask if I was growing a mustache. I consider that my great mustache victory of Movember. Today was another victory as I walked into my wife's grandparent's house. Her grandma looked at the both of us and said "what have you done to your face?" I was laughing because my wife has some bruises on her face from when she was attacked by a squirrel and thought the comment was directed to her. To my astonishment, however, my wife's grandma then asked if I was growing a mustache. I replied that I was and then she said I looked debonair and if you threw a cowboy hat on my head and pistols at my hips I'd look just like a cowboy. I thought this was awesome. I've never been called debonair before, and to think all I had to do was grow a mustache (which most find creepy). I knew the definition of debonair, but just in case you don't dictionary.com states

deb·o·nair

   [deb-uh-nair]

adjective

1.

courteous, gracious, and having a sophisticated charm: a debonair gentleman.

2.

jaunty; carefree; sprightly.

Also, deb·o·naire, deb·on·naire .

Origin:
1175–1225; Middle English debone ( i ) re < Anglo-French; Old French debonaire, orig. phrase de bon aire of good lineage

Related forms

deb·o·nair·ly, adverb

deb·o·nair·ness, noun

Synonyms
1. urbane, suave, elegant, polished.

Polished is by far my favorite synonym. So here is to men's health awareness and to becoming debonair!

Near Death Experience

I find it odd that my last post was about death. This post is better since nobody died, but a lot more scary since I almost witnessed someone's death. I work at a library and occasionally have to work late Friday nights. This last Friday I was working and my co-worker seemed really tired. I joked with her that if she would watch a movie on the computer then she would be able to stay awake. She was working at the front desk where people check books in and out, and I was in the back scanning documents where I couldn't see her. About an hour after I had checked on her somebody rang the bell asking for service. I thought it strange that my co-worker hadn't helped the patron, but I went up front to help anyway. When I got to the counter I saw that my co-worker was slumped over. The patron asked if she was alright and I told him that she was probably just sleeping. The patron then said that he had tried to wake her up, at which point I became a little worried. As I looked closer at her I could tell something was wrong, and when I tried to wake her she was totally unresponsive. We figured she might be diabetic so I called my boss to confirm this and then we called 911. The paramedics came and helped us resuscitate her. Her blood sugar had dropped to 43 when you are supposed to maintain it at 100. If the patron hadn't come by, I wouldn't have known that anything was wrong and would have left her there slumped over in a diabetic coma for over three hours. The paramedics were able to stabilize my co-worker, but the experience was really frightening, especially thinking about how she could have died. It turns out that my boss had given a training meeting on the fact that this co-worker was diabetic and had experienced this at work before. Unfortunately, I have a class every time my boss gives a training meeting so I was the only employee that didn't know what to do. I don't really know if there is a moral of the story other than to be really careful if you are a diabetic and maybe to pay attention in training meetings, but this experience definitely gave me a crazy start to my weekend.

Death of a Father

The father of a good friend of mine passed away last night. I had really mixed emotions in response to the news. You might be thinking how could you say that? But in my defense, I feel like the family is feeling similar. Over ten years ago my friend's father had a major stroke that left him very handicapped. He has been unable to speak and walk ever since. It has been a very trying experience for his family and he has been sick a lot. It is actually a miracle that he lived as long as he did. Doctors told the family that most people would have died after all the times he had pneumonia and other major illnesses on top of his deteriorated situation. So really the last ten years have been a great blessing for this family. Recently, as I talked with my friend about his dad he said the his father just was too stubborn and really loves his family. So in that aspect I am really sad for the family. It is never a good thing to be separated from our loved ones, and this is a very long term separation. Luckily, I am a man of faith and last night as I was praying for this family I had a renewed sense of peace, love and hope. I am so grateful to know that death is not the end. My belief in the afterlife is something that truly gives me strength in life. I know that this man is in a better place, and can once again communicate. I know that one day he will receive a resurrected body, meaning a perfected form of his earthly body, one that is not subject to disease, infirmity or other ailments. I know that this man will one day be reunited with his wife and family and once again be able to hug them, kiss them and tell them with his voice how much he loves them. This is why I have mixed feelings. I am sad that he is gone, but excited that he can be with his loved ones and will one day have a body that is not confined to a wheel chair. I post this at risk of being too personal, but my faith is what sustains me in life, in all aspects of life, whether it be in great tragedies like death or beautiful beginnings like marriage or the birth of a child.

Pale Morning Sun

The hunt has once again come and gone. I would have liked to be able to say I brought home a nice big buck, but I figure I spent most of my luck allotted to this year somewhere else. As I think about it though, I have really been lucky this year. This last summer I got a great internship when the position was originally given to someone else. It turns out the other guy got a better offer and that left me as the next best candidate. It would have been nice to not have been the back up, but in this case it didn't matter, and the summer became very profitable. I also took the LSAT in preparation for law school and scored in the 94th percentile. That means that out of all the people who took the LSAT when I did, only 6 in every 100 people did better than me. That, I feel, is something I spent a lot of my luck on. I'm pretty sure those two experiences really stole most of my luck for the year, and the rest I'm saving up for my law school applications. So in the long run, I feel like not wasting some luck on hunting is an alright thing.

You might be wondering what the title of this post has to do with my lucky experiences or the lack thereof. Well, to be perfectly honest, I originally planned talking about something entirely different than luck in this post, but the keyboard led me to what we now have. As to the pale morning sun, I spent the last two days watching the sun come up as I sat on a mountainside straining my eyes and ears trying to find a buck. Before the sun would rise above the horizon I usually was literally freezing my toes off. Friday I definitely lost feeling to my toes for a while, and my fingers didn't fare much better. As the sun would finally show her face I would always be very glad for the warmth she promised. Unfortunately, she was about as warm as the seventy year old nun is who regrets her decision to forgo marriage. The sun showed her smiling face but withheld her warmth, and I continued to stare at the mountain. This short paragraph makes hunting sound entirely miserable, but I assure you that hunting isn't all that bad, just this particular part of hunting is definitely not for the weak or cold blooded.

In the end, the week was really good. I got a lot of exercise and I got to experience the mountains in a way few people probably do. This world in which we live is absolutely amazing, and I am glad to be blessed enough to have seen the miracle of nature (I'm not talking about birth).