I saw an old friend, but didn't recognize him...

I saw an old friend today. He is both an old friend and a friend who is old. The crazy thing is that I see him all of the time but I just haven't recognized him lately.

Anyone who knows me or has met me, knows him as well, but I doubt you would have recognized him either.

He's a lot grayer, but still has all of his hair. He still stands tall but has just the slightest slump when he gets tired. His gait is a little slower, but still fast paced. His wrinkles are now permanent as opposed to only when they appeared when he laughed.

As a matter of fact I recognized him and realized who he was when I heard his laugh. That's something that apparently has never changed.

He said he considers his health as excellent despite his decades of disregard for a healthy life style. His eyes are sharp, clear and as blue as ever.but admitted they were less than average until his cataract surgery.
His teeth are straight and white, but I think they might be store-bought.

He's still active, works regularly and enjoys people and things that he never had time for in years past.

Sadly, he said his memory is slipping though. He said it's frustrating that when he is having a conversation with someone that he will forget the simplest thing. But, he said he could remember every day growing up as a child.

The most difficult task he admitted to is not being able to recognize friends and people as easily as he used to.

And, just like I said I didn't recognize him...he said he didn't recognize me either.

We both agreed to see each other on a daily basis so we can improve our memories and we agreed to share the memories of our lives so those memories will never be lost.

Yep, you all know him. It's me

What makes a teacher great....

 (Editor's Note: This month, one of the finest teachers, one of the most talented instructors, David Kender,  will retire from Wright State University in Dayton, Ohio. His 25 years of service to the University, much like his 24 years of military service to his country, is not an end of a career, but simply a new phase in his life.  see more)

What makes a teacher great?

The answer is simple. The thing that makes a good teacher become a great teacher is the ability to cause one’s students to think. It's showing the student how to take all of the instructions, lectures, examples, tests and assignments and have the student come to the needed conclusion on his or her own. To think for themselves based on the knowledge they have gained.

The best teacher, the greatest teacher I ever had was one that I didn't have in a classroom, at least not the conventional classroom with four walls and a chalkboard. It was in the classroom of life.

 My brother, Dave, who will be retiring
from Wright State this month after a
 remarkable 25 year
career.

He's been teaching me my entire life not so much by lectures or instructions but by example. And I don't think either of us thought of it as a learning session. Our sessions were simply younger brother watching his older brother.

I guess my earliest tutoring that I can recall was when I would walk into his bedroom when I was probably not more than 5 or 6 years old and with our seven year age difference, he would be nearing high school age. His room was packed with electronic equipment from ham radios, oscilloscopes, and the newest item on the market, a CB radio. He also had one of his earliest inventions, a "shock machine", that he would entice me and my best friend to hold onto as he turned up the voltage to a set of tin orange juice cans that were wired to a transformer. Yes, that too, was a learning experience.

As I look back over the years, I realize that our one on one in-person meetings probably never totaled more than 50 visits together. He went off to the University of Chicago and then later Miami University in Oxford, leaving me at home until I would later head to the University of Oklahoma.

After graduation he entered the Air Force. I would do the same a few years later. We kept in touch on rare occasions by phone and of course we would meet up again as deaths occurred and we would see each other at gravesides.

During the 70's our paths crossed in the most unusual set of circumstances.

I was the editor of theLangley Flyer, the base newspaper at Langley AFB in Virginia and he was stationed at Pope AFB in North Carolina. As editor, I would receive base newspapers from all over the country and as I went through them I saw on the front page of the Pope AFB newspaper, that David Kender had won the Silver Star, the United States third-highest medal for valor during combat. Something he simply kept to himself.

As the Internet started to evolve, he and I would begin to exchange the newest invention, emails, a major breakthrough in being able to visit with each other from afar. 

Once during one of his thousands of classes, he was showing his students how to send text through the Internet. I had a little program that allowed me to "call" his computer, through an extremely slow modem, and the messages I would send him would appear on the screen being projected in the classroom. The students were entranced. He warned me beforehand not to send anything risqué.

His awards at Wright State would begin to stack up one upon another, again, without me knowing, until I would search his bio online and see all of the accolades.

Last year, while in Dayton for my 50th High School Reunion, I surprised him and sat in on one of his classes. I was impressed. Here was my brother, at age 75, sharp as ever, sharing his knowledge once again to students who would learn to think for themselves by simply being in his presence.

My life has been blessed having both of my brothers in my life. They have been my mentors, with Dave leading the way.

And Wright State has been blessed to have had such a great teacher to mentor the students.

I look forward to seeing where his next career takes him. I know for me, I will continue to learn, just as everyone who crosses his path will also benefit from his incredible knowledge and teaching skills.

Well done, brother Dave.

Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time....

(Editor's Note: If any of my grandkids are reading this, just remember Grandpa did some crazy things when he was a young boy growing up. That doesn't mean you need to do them. Always try to follow what you think is the right thing and not the wrong thing. And, well, if you screw up, let me know about it and I'll try to help you explain it to your parents)



You know, what seemed like a simple solution to a simple problem, well, maybe it wasn't the smartest thing in the world.

I'm talkin' about siphoning gasoline. I'm guessing most guys my age and some girls for that matter have probably siphoned gas at least once or twice in their lives. I mean, if you ran outta gas some place it was a simple process to siphon some gas out of your friends car's gas tank into a paper cup or beer bottle and pour it in your gas tank. Remember?

Now, since the Statute of Limitations for prosecution of doing some stuff like that has expired I guess I can share a story or two.

I'm not gonna name names here, but I'll just use nicknames.

There was only one of us who had a car back in the day. Or let lone a driver's license.

"Burglar Bob", well, he had both....hmmm...maybe or maybe not about that license.

It wasn't unusual to have an empty gas tank on a Friday night when  we would be out runnin' around, so we would head to our "nest egg of gasoline" the school bus barn somewhere over off of Dixie Drive in Dayton, Ohio.
We always had the needed 1 gallon or 5 gallon can and, ugh...I hate to tell you what we, or at least I used when it was my turn to get the gas. It was the rubber hose that came off the end of the enema bag that Mom had in a box up in the bathroom closet. Now, all of you relax. If you know anything about an enema bag you knew fluid only went one way. So not to worry, it didn't have anything else passing thru it. Also, after I gripped it from Mom, I never returned it. And, when I was questioned about its disappearance, I denied everything.

"The Jer" was the best siphoner. It was truly a skill. Again, any of you who have ever siphoned gas, know what it's like to get a mouthful. Even worse when you swallow it. Well, "The Jer" had the knack. He brought the gas right up to his mouth and transferred the hose to the gas can at the last possible second. When you waited till the last moment you always got the best flow.

"The Jer" also had the uncanny skill of being able to take a mouthful of gasoline, light a match, place it in front of his mouth and spit the gasoline through the flame. It was the craziest and coolest thing I think he did....well, at least one of them.

Now, I'm not sure if "Fast Eddie" ever did any siphoning, He was so danged smart, that he probably stayed around the perimeter standing guard or figuring out an excuse if we got busted. I think all of us always felt "Fast Eddie's" ability to think on his feet through a challenge was one of his best traits. And, I guess it paid off in his latter years.

Anyway, after we got the can or cans full, we'd head out for a night of cruisin' and just doin what kids did back then.

If you haven't ever siphoned anything. I might  suggest you try it with water before you go for the real thing. Also, watch out for those fumes, they can be quite addictive as well. Um, that story for another time.

Yep, I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I need a sign....AND I NEED IT NOW!

I'm not demanding, well, on second thought, yes, I am...okay, let's just say I am pleading really, really hard. But I need a sign, God.  And not just one of those rainbow signs. I can make those by letting light reflect in water.

I need the real big thing. I need the "parting of the waters" kind of sign. I need the "raising Lazarus from the dead" kind of sign. I don't need any more flooding of the earth, locust invasions, pestilence, starvation, or disease. I have plenty of that. I need some good signs. And I want them big. I want them huge. I want the kind of signs that literally scare the crap out of people and make them soil their pants.

You woke me up this morning and put these thoughts in my mind. You guide my hand as I type these words. So, this a small sign that you can do it. You can do it all.

I'm at a  point in my life where my Faith should be as strong as ever. But, it's not. Sometimes I can barely hold on. I can handle watching my body age and begin to wear down, but I can't sit here and watch any more suffering. I have very, very sick friends that I need cured NOW.

Children are suffering. Children are dying.The world is in chaos.

Each night as I watch the news, I become filled with hate. Filled with despair. I'm tired of watching what was once a beautiful creation being destroyed by this hate.

So, please. I truly beg of you.Send me a sign. Send all of us a sign. Not a horrid sign but a sign of hope. And please...please watch over my friends and family. Watch over all of us.

Please don't let me fall further away from you.

I know I am here for a reason. I don't know what it is but I am trying. If it's to put these words on paper for others to read, well, ok, here it is. I just need something in return and hopefully, it will be one of the bad-ass things that You know You alone can do.  How about talking to us from the clouds or try one of those talking burning bushes again, that oughta shake some people up.

I love you as always. I'm glad you haven't given up on me like I am sorta giving up on you.

Sincerely,

Tommyboy

The Game of Life...picking the right piece of chocolate

I've never turned down a challenge. It's not that I am super competitive it's just that well...I guess I need to always test myself. I never turn down a piece of chocolate either.

This so-called "game" that we are plunged into from the minute we are born...this "game of life"...well, I just don't like some of the rules. I realize I can't always have it my way, but even still, I guess I am stuck with the hand I was dealt. We all are.

I didn't have a choice in the matter of being born. And, I truly believe it's not my first rodeo and it won't be my last. Each time I come back, it seems like the easier it gets, the harder it gets.

Each day  I witness friends holding onto dear life as they put their bodies through horrible pain, filling their human vessels with poisons in order to remove the other poisons so they can finish the game, and play a few more innings, I struggle with trying to simply understand what we are playing for. A trophy? A permanent place to reside for eternity?. I don't understand.

And then as yesterday came and passed, suddenly, I find out a friend, a long time classmate from 60 years ago, someone who was giving so much to the world, so much to the community, is erased from the surface of the earth in a split second.

I want to be able to push my finger into the piece of chocolate I have chosen out of the box in order to see what I might get. Will it be the dreaded coconut or the delicious caramel. I want to know.

I guess all of this is a wake-up call for me. I need to get things crossed off my list. Add new things to my list and most of all, enjoy the moment. Enjoy the piece of chocolate given me and even if it has a bit of coconut in it...it's still covered with chocolate.