10/30/05---Normalcy beginning to return

Life here in south Florida is beginning to return to norm.  The lines for gasoline are now maybe 15 minutes tops, 50% of Broward County has electricity.....including of course, your beloved writer.  Yesterday the ultimate state of normal returned when my neighbor Jimmy helped me to realign my DirectTv satellite dish to its proper configuration and I was able to watch a Saturday worth of college football.  All hail satellite t.v.!  Cable t.v. sucks!
Kim and I went and got gasoline today (its good to know that manager of a Mobil station--gets you right to the front of any line) and afterwards did a little bit of driving around.  Its really amazing how many trees are down.  A lot of the powerlines that still haven't been fixed are down because a tree fell on top of them.  However, I must say that we did see crews out working on the problems, so its not like you can say anyone is taking a Sunday off or anything.  Well, unless you work at the courthouse!  No word yet on our return, although scuttlebutt is that the first official day of work at the building will be on Monday the 7th.  Personally, I think they'll call the employees in on Friday the 4th, just to get our work prepared for what I'm sure is going to be a complete nightmare of a day on the 7th.  I'm just waiting for every mutant in the county who might have had a court date the last two weeks to come wondering into the courtroom wanting their case resolved right then and there.  UGH!

My beloved Irish had the weekend off, but that didn't stop them from being the lead story on most college football sites.  Not bad for an "irrelevant" program.

ND's top teacher granted 10 year-deal - Chicago Sun Times

Out in the Pacific time zone, Willingham might be asking why Weis was showered with love after a 5-2 start when he began 8-0 in his debut season in 2002. But if Willingham's ouster was unfair in the way it was handled, it's clear he is far inferior to Weis in most coaching facets. Ty wasn't real good with game plans and preparing his team. Weis is a master in both categories and never will let the Irish slump to a level in which they're not only losing often, but being routed -- the state of the program when Willingham was fired. This isn't about race. This is about nothing but quality of coaching.

I quoted that portion of his column because it's the first time Mariotti has acknowledged that Weis is superior to Willingham in 'most coaching facets' (even though he really knows it's all facets).

Thanks to the BareDown blog for the link and their thoughts on the matter.  Personally, I'm happier than a pig in a poke over the new deal.  Its obvious that Charlie gets it...that he's the man for the job, and because of that, the NFL is going to eventually be sniffing around (including my Vikings, who should stay the hell away in this particular instance) the administration grab the bull by the horns and addressed the problem before it reached the critical point.

I feel pretty happy knowing that Charlie will be steering the ship for 10 years.

Later,
Jeff

10/27/05--WILLLLLLLLLLLLLMA!!!!!!!!

We sat around and watched that bitch for over a week, skulking around the lower Caribbean.  Oh, they kept telling us that eventually she'd head our way, but we really didn't pay much attention.  I mean, afterall, who'd ever heard of a hurricane hitting this late in the season?  And even if they did, hurricanes NEVER, EVER hit Broward County and Ft Lauderdale.  They might hammer Miami-Dade, or sneak up the coast and create a nuisance to Palm Beach, but somehow, someway, Ft Lauderdale always managed to avoid getting hit.  It was really amazing.

And so, we watched and kept listening to those guys from the Weather Channel tell us that we were sitting there, like a huge target, and that it was inevitable that Wilma was heading our way.  But there was this massive cold front, and we were positive that it would come down in time to send it south of Lauderdale, and once again we would mark smart ass remarks about how those guys from the Weather Channel were wrong--again.  And then we heard about how Wilma was sitting on top of Cancun and the Yucatan, hammering them relentlessly with high winds and heavy dosages of rain.  But it wasn't going to happen to us.  Nope, OTHER people get hit, not us.

And last Friday, we prepped our office, as we've done seemingly hundreds of times in preparation for yet another hurricane that wouldn't really hit us.  We covered the desks and computers in plastic wrap, laughing to ourselves at how ineffective it would be if a hurricane ever did hit Lauderdale.  And we went home.
And on Sunday I took my wife to the bookstore, so she had something to read if she got bored during preparation of our home.  And I drove right past the gas station even while I noticed that my wife was sitting at around 1/2 to 3/4 a tank of gas.  Didn't matter...the hurricane wouldn't hit us, so who cares if our tank isn't full?
And my wife told me, as we were putting up our shutters, to leave one shutter off of our sliding glass doors so that she could "watch the storm" when it came through.
And my wife went to bed, as the talking heads on television told us that Wilma was coming.  But I kept thinking that, like always, something would happen at the last minute and Wilma would turn north....even maybe up to the Palm Beach, and we would maybe get a glancing blow.  And I went to bed, wondering if I had made the right choice in leaving that sliding door without that last shutter.  And as I got in bed, I heard the wind begin to pick up outside.

I awoke the next morning and the first thing I noticed was that the fan above our bed was still turning.  Power still on.  I asked my wife what time it was, and she told me that it was about 7:45am and that the storm was hitting Broward County dead on.
We still couldn't believe it...this just didn't happen.  I fell back asleep for about another 15 minutes until my wife came back into the room and told me that she was starting to get freaked out by the noise outside and wanted me to come into the living room.  A few minutes later we heard on the radio that the eye of the storm, which was large enough to literally cover the entire county, was now passing over the area.
So we did what any idiot would do in that situation.  We went outside (Hey, I never said we were the brightest bulbs in the box).  The two trees in our front yard were down.  We walked outside in front of the house and saw a few other neighbors who were out surveying the damage.  We stayed out there about 5 minutes, or until I began to notice a very subtle increase in the wind.  Time to go in, I told my wife.
We were inside about 5 minutes when the power finally went out.  Through the space in the shutters we could see the wind pick up dramatically and watched our tree in the backyard struggle to not go down.  Kim finally went and laid down on the couch, and I stood next to the sliding door.  A few minutes later one of those notorious feeder bands came through.  I stood at the door watching the wind whip through my neighborhood worse than I had ever seen before.  I could hear the wind.
I watched as my sliding door seemingly began to breathe, as it absorbed the hit from the wind and began to bend with it.  This was not a fun time.  I heard my front door begin to shake on its hinges, and thought about how the guys at Home Depot had sold us a new door a few months before but had yet to put it on for us.  Why?  Because, although it met "code"....meaning city or county code, but not "hurricane code", they couldn't install it for us.  So there we were, with last year's doors, the ones that we knew hadn't done a good job for us last year in a lesser storm, hoping that they would hold together one last time until we could get the new doors, the ones that did meet "code", put in.

About an hour later, it was all over.  The storm I mean.  The damn thing was moving at about 25 miles per hour, and literally blew right through Broward County.  I told my wife how lucky we were that we weren't like the Yucatan, where the storm sat for almost 36 hours before it finally decided to keep on moving.

The only word that captures what happened is devestating.  I mean, just hammered.
The trees are all gone.  It looks like the good lord himself came down with a scythe or a machete and just chopped off the tops of the trees.  So the rest of the day was spent doing an extraordinary thing.  Everyone in the neighborhood came together to help.  I had a chainsaw, my neighbor Sal had a generator with plenty of gas, and we helped get fallen trees out of people's driveways.  A couple of doors down from us was an older lady who was in the house with her special needs daughter.  Her husband was still in the hospital recovering from hip surgery.  I had been told that her husband had been part of the Big Red One, which was one of the first divisions to land in Normandy & Omaha Beach during D-Day, WWII.  After we cut down her tree, she thanked us.  I told her that compared to the sacrifices her husband had made more than 50 years before, cutting down a tree didn't seem like too much to do.  Luck was with us that evening, as the cold front finally arrived and sent the temperatures down into the low 60's and made the weather very comfortable for sleeping.  The following morning we got up and decided that we would go in search of some gasoline.  It was like a scene from the Road Warrior.

"The juice....the PRECIOUS juice....was hidden in the back of the bus......"

Seriously, it was that bad.  We decided that even without power or electricity, the turnpike would have gasoline at the service plaza.  It was a good idea, which unfortunately about 5,000 other people had at the same time we did....judging by the line that we ran into on the turnpike.  We finally got off at Lake Worth, hoping that maybe gas station around there might be selling fuel.  Uh....no.  We did get to see a few stores that had been looted the night before, in keeping with a fine american tradition.  We went back home (after wasting gas in, ya know, searching for gas) and awaited word on what had happened at my work.  I was hearing reports on the radio that there had been a lotof damage to the courthouse building.  Needless to say, by this point, cell phones were pretty useless.  The ones who didn't have their towers destroyed by the storm were overloaded and would often result in either a busy signal or a "system busy" notice.  Finally I was able to get through to my boss, who informed me that meetings were going on while we spoke that would determine when the courthouse would re-open.  A couple of hours later, she called me to tell me that the building was closed until at least Monday (the 31st).  I told Kim to throw the bags in the car, load up the dogs....cuz we were heading north!  We finally hit the road at about 6pm, ready for our drive to Orlando, which usually takes about 3 1/2 hours.  Traffic was pretty heavy on the turnpike, and Kim was pretty worried about the gas situation in her car (we took two cars), since she only had about 1/2 a tank.
We got to the first service plaza in Palm Beach, and the line was still almost 2 miles long, JUST TO GET GASOLINE.  And they were limiting everyone to only $20 worth at that!  So I told Kim to keep pushing north, that eventually we'd find a place that we could get gasoline without waiting 2 hours in a line.  We got to the Port St Lucie service plaza, and found that the line there was only about a mile long.  Uh, no thanks.  I told Kim to get off at Ft Pierce, because I knew there were regular gas stations on the road that the exit was on.  Well, there were and there are, but their lines were about a mile long.  I told Kim to jump on I-95, figuring that we would have an easier time finding gas on 95 as opposed to the turnpike, plus we wouldn't face the restrictions that the turnpike had.  The Vero Beach exit had a line at least a mile long.  We kept going.  We got off at Sebastian.  All the gas stations were dark.
Sold out so they closed early.  I told Kim that we would probably have to go through to Melbourne.  Kim admitted that she was getting worried about the possibility of running out of gas.  She had a digital readout in her car that tells her how many miles she has left before her tank is empty, and she was below 30 miles.
She finally got off at the exit before Melbourne, in a town called Palm Bay.  We are talking about a town approximately 150 miles away!  That's the first place we were able to get gasoline without as much as a one hour wait!  Sowe find a gas station that is selling gas, and even here, so far away, there are maybe 2 or 3 cars in line ahead of me.  I'm doing some people watching while I wait, and its pretty fascinating stuff.  The guy in front of me has at least 10 cannisters that would hold 5 gallons of gasoline and he's filling them up and putting them in the back of his van.

"Dude," I told him, "I sure hope you don't get rearended when you leave.  If you do, your going to turn into the Human Torch."

But I don't think he was as out of his mind as the guy who pulled up next to me.
He was driving a Jiffy van, and when he opened the backdoor, I noticed that he had 3 huge Rubbermaid garbage cans, with no lids, and he began to fill them up with gasoline.  He was planning on filling these garbage cans, without lids, up with gasoline and drive 150 miles back to Ft Lauderdale.  I silently hoped he wasn't planning on smoking on the return trip.

We got back on the road, encountering traffic congestion all the way past Melbourne.  We finally arrived at my parents house around 11pm.  A five hour trip that usually takes 3 1/2.  A hot shower and air conditioning sure isn't appreciated when you have them every day.  Trust me.

My friend Greg called me the next day.  He had been up in New York City with his son on a vacation, and got stuck without a way to come home.  His wife Mary had to ride the storm out in their Ft Lauderdale home by herself.  Greg finally went and rented a car and began the long drive from NYC home to Lauderdale.  When I talked to him he was just outside of Fayetteville, N.C.  He told me that while he was in Virginia.....now remember this....VIRGINIA....he stopped off at a Lowe's in order to buy a couple of 5 gallon cannisters to fill up with gasoline later in the trip.
No 5 gallon cannisters.  They were sold out, people heading to Florida.  Virginia!!

Later on last evening we got a call from our neighbor with the good news that power had been restored to our neighborhood.  We were thrilled that our trip would have to be cut short and we could return home.  But we weren't kidding ourselves that we would be returning to anything resembling normalcy.  The early word is that the damage to the courthouse was so severe that we may not return until November 7th.
Our neighborhood is a mess.  We're the lucky ones, as many, many people in Broward are still without power.  Gasoline, ice and patience are in short supply.

It would never happen to us.  It'll turn at the last minute and go somewhere else.
We kept thinking that up until the last minute.

Later,
Jeff

 

10/22/05---Or, to quote R. Lee Ermey.......

Do you know who R. Lee Ermey is?  Why, he's only one of America's finest supporting character actors.  You may know him as host of the History Channel's "MailCall" program (yeah, right)...or maybe you know him as the creepy boss in the remake of "Willard" (that would assume that ANYONE actually saw that movie).
Or, like the rest of America, you probably know the great R. Lee as the drill sargeant from the movie "Full Metal Jacket".  R. Lee spent half the movie going on one of the alltime greatest profanity riffs ever caught on celluloid, telling each and every wanna be marine just how worthless they were.  Worked for some, didn't work for others (I'm talking to you D'Nofrio).  Anyway, we mention R. Lee at the beginning of our column today because, in regards to last weekend's Notre Dame-USC game.....well, to paraphrase R. Lee in the movie:

"Boy....I will rip your neck off of your body and shit down your neck."

That's pretty much what happened.  USC, on the last play of the game, ripped the neck right off of ND's body and then shit down our neck.  All I can say is, thank God I wasn't home to watch the game on television live, because even an extra helping of the Zocor would've kept my blood pressure from going sky high.
Oh, I taped the game.  I haven't watched it yet.  It's sorta sitting there on my t.v. stand, waiting for me to pop it in and at the sametime, knowing how crazed it will make me.  Hell, I watched the damned BYU game today, a game we WON by 26 points...and I was cursing the t.v. into the 3rd quarter.  My wife asked me why I didn't just shut it off.  I told her that last year I would have, and what bothered me so much was that we were playing like we had last year's coaching staff leading us.
Dumb penalties, careless play...and then, in the 4th quarter, we sorta kicked it into gear and showed the Mormons the door.  But anyway, back to last weekend:

So I had spent the whole day wanting to only think about my late uncle and my mom's family.  I knew I was taping the game, so I didn't want to "sneak a peek" at the television during the day, and I didn't want to use the earphones that my sister had brought me to use (how tacky would THAT have been?).  Nope, I didn't want to be concerned with the game.  So, around 7:30ish, I know the game is either over or just about to be over (and you can thank NBC and their approximately 47 commercials for the length of the ND games).  My brother sneaks into the t.v. room at my aunt's house to get ready for the FSU-Virginia game and I walk out.  I figure, if for some reason (O.T. maybe?) the game is still on.....I'm not going to want to subject myself to the torture of watching the game and go completely apeshit in front of a bunch of grieving relatives whether they win or lose.  I mean, if they lose and I see it...I figured I'd be all sort of miserable.  On the other hand, if they won....how would it look to a bunch of grieving relatives if I was screaming like a lunatic because my favorite football team had won a game?  Am I not the picture of maturity here?

So I go outside and pray my little silent pray to the good Lord to remind him which of the two schools is, ya know CATHOLIC and all.....and then go back inside and see my father and brother watching the baseball game.  Or should I say, SUPPOSEDLY watching the baseball game.  What a couple of pokerfaces!!!
My sister is in another room answering a call from her husband and I hear her mention the game....and then....the inevitable....

"So what was the score of the Notre Dame game?"

I could tell by the look on her face that the news was not good.  She handed me the phone and my brother in law John starts telling me that he had just watched one of the greatest games he'd ever seen in his life and that my team should be proud of themselves.  I handed the phone back to my sister and walked quietly back into the t.v. room where my dad and brother were.  They looked at my face and I told them that the Irish had lost.  They told me that they knew, and had been watching the end of the game while I was outside--praying. 

The only good thing about the day---and its not really good, just a little tit for tat---is that my father's Cardinals lost to the Astros and my brother had to suffer through a loss by his beloved FSU Noles to Virginia.  Ya know, misery does love company.

I saw the highlights the next day.  I saw the controversy at the end of the game, which is not surprising in the series between USC and Notre Dame.  That's not me  with sour grapes...that's just me saying that there is usually some rather eyebrow raising calls one way or another during the games between these two.  I find it particularly interesting that, in defeat, Notre Dame may have gained more national respect than they may have ever gotten in victory.  All of a sudden ESPN loves the Irish (well except for Mark May, who has done a really good job of looking like a complete and utter fucking moron in his continued bashing of the Irish) and can't praise them enough.

Pretty amazing what a coach can do, huh?  All those guys who were too slow, or not athletic enough under Ty Willingham are now setting records on a weekly basis.
Yep...pretty amazing.  Ty, for the record, now stands at 1-6 at UW.  Ahem.

Later,
Jeff

10/17/05---Road Trip aka "Things You'd Never Bet You Would Hear Your Father Say"

So of course I flew up to Jacksonville early Saturday morning, with the plan being that I would be picked up by my sister, who would be driving the rented van that would cart the whole family up to South Carolina for my uncle's funeral.

The Jacksonville airport is nice, but its not exactly what I would call an "international" airport, and by that I mean there are no chairs on the bottom level.  So I was up on the upper level, reading a book when my cell rang and my brother asked where I was.  I told him that I was sitting on the upper level (silly me thinking that they might call and say something like--"uh, we're 2 minutes away...get your shit together") and then I headed to the lower level where they were waiting.  I walk out the door and see them sitting about 30 yards away talking to a deputy.  My sister puts the pedal to the medal and pulls up alongside me.  Now...this wasn't a pickup that would rival a NASCAR pitstop, ya know.  The car began to unload like a series of dominoes going over.  First my sister, then my brother, then my niece, then my mom....and all the while there's this deputy standing there, and you can just tell he's getting all sorts of nervous with the fact that we're there.  Mind you, we were the only car in the loading and unloading zone for approximately a 100 yard range either way, but that didn't matter to him.  His job was to keep this area clear of traffic and that was what he was going to do.
Meanwhile, I go to put my bags in the back, but my brother decides to REORGANIZE all the luggage.  Ah those former military types and their organization skills.  So he's stacking and restacking, and I'm standing there smiling at Mr. Deputy, who I can tell is getting aggitated and just waiting for someone to say something remotely smart-mouth so he can pull out a weapon and thrash us all within an inch of our very lives.  And then the packing was done.  Of course, then my mom had trouble getting back into the van. (Seriously, this was bigtime Abbott & Costello type of stuff)  Mom was wearing a dress for the funeral (I was the only one not dressed for the solemn occasion--the idea of changing clothes at a truckstop sounded vaguely disturbing to me somehow) and was convinced that as she sat down in the van that she would be exposing herself to anyone within view....and being the lady that she is, was trying her best to maintain decorum.  Which is fine,except it was keeping us from pulling away from the curb.  Well finally we got the old girl in (sorry Mom, couldn't resist) and we're on our way.  Whew!  All this and we're not even away from the curb!  So we have about a 3 hour drive from Jax up into South Carolina and the home of my Aunt Ruby, which is going to be ground zero meeting place for all those who are going to the funeral.  During that 3 hours, we talk about times past, times ahead...and current goings on in our lives.  My mother, who at some point has become an expert on Wal-Mart, tries to explain the difference between a "city Wal-Mart" and a "country Wal-Mart".  Don't laugh.  Its as real as real can be.  Apparently at the COUNTRY Wal-Mart, they probably don't carry certain items---including the one thing that my father inlightened us with.
And I quote:

"Ya know, they even carry that K-Y jelly at Wal-Mart now."

I don't wanna know.  No.  Stop it.  I am NOT going to go there.  Even I have limits.

So finally we get to my aunt's house, which is one of those legendary places that you always remember from your childhood.  She has a massive 2 story house, complete with the pillars (or maybe their called "gables") in front of her house.  She's lived there as long as I can remember, her and two of her sons, my cousins Larry & Chris, who are what would politically correctly be referred to as "special needs" persons.  To me, their just my cousins.  We pull up and I immediately see my cousin Robin, who I hadn't seen in about 10 years and then go up the stairs to see my aunt.
"Oh Jeff," she says, "I didn't even make you any macaroni and cheese."

My aunt.  Her brother has died a few days before, she's getting ready to go to the funeral....and she's thinking about how much I love her macaroni and cheese.
Of course...it is really good macaroni and cheese.

The funeral, as described earlier, is a quiet and solemn affair.  The military ceremony at the cemetary is very impressive and emotional.  I take a photo of my grandparents headstones. 
I think about my maternal grandmother often.  She's been gone now for over 18 years now and she's still a presence in not only my life, but of everyone who was there.  "Corene" is still alive in our hearts and minds.  During the funeral service, as the minister was speaking, one of the lights above our heads suddenly flickered for a moment.  My mother turned around to my sister and I and said:

"There's Corene."

And she wasn't saying it with any sense of humor, or with a touch of sassiness.  She believed it.  And so did we.  When we were at the gravesite of my uncle, my mother was looking at the casket of her brother when she looked down and realized that she was standing on her mother's grave. 

"Oh good Lord, I'm standing on Corene's grave."

Right when she said it, and mind you...she was standing no where near this spot, about 100 red ants located in the middle of my grandmother's final resting spot came pouring out.  It was as if Corene was letting us know.....she still could bite you from beyond.  And I am not kidding.

You might find some of this sort of silly, but when your roots--even only half of them--(that's not a shot Dad, just an observation) are in the South, you look at things differently.  The day my grandmother was being buried, at the service for her at the funeral home, my sister was going to sing a song that she had written for the occasion....but at the last minute backed out.  The director was just getting ready to introduce her.....and the lights in the funeral home went out.  All of them.  My sister told me that she thought to herself:

"Okay, Corene.  I get the message.  I'll sing."

And she got up and sang her song.  And everyone there....EVERY SINGLE ONE, knew those lights went out because Corene was there with us.  I still believe it.

During the ceremony for my uncle, a man began singing Amazing Grace and it was very poignant.  Almost as poignant as when I saw my aunt lean over and put her head on my mother's shoulder, quietly crying.  And almost as poignant as when their younger brother, my Uncle Andy, leaned over and put his arm around my mother.
My mom looked back, thinking it was me touching her shoulder...and then realized that it was her brother.  Just the three of them....the only ones left.  Sitting there locked together.  It was very sad....and yet, very sweet.  Time marches on and waits for no man...or woman.

After the funeral, we decided to go back and check into our hotel in beautiful downtown Hampton, South Carolina.....where unbeknownest to me, they filmed a few scenes from Forrest Gump.  Okay, enough trivia.  So we get to the hotel, andbecause of problems that my dad has with his legs, he & my mom always request a room on the ground floor of any hotel they stay at.  This was requested when they made the reservation.  Which means, naturally....that the hotel did not have ANY rooms on the ground floor.  I can guaran-damn-tee you that hotel clerk got the raised eyebrow of Mary Bowdren that evening!!  So we go back to my aunt's house and visit with a few relatives we hadn't seen in seemingly forever, catching up on all or at least most of the family gossip.  Who's doing what...where...and if anyone is currently incarcerated.  Well, it is my MOM's family afterall.
While I'm there I try my best not to find out what the score of the ND-USC game is, although my dad and brother peaked....and then did a pokerface and pretended not to know.  My dad and my cousin Chris bet $25,000 on the outcome of the NLCS.
Chris swore he would never pay if he lost.  Well, after awhile, we make our way back to the hotel.  My brother and I went over to the convience store next to the hotel, where I bought a couple of lotto tickets for the POWERBALL, which is worth something like $300 million.  My wife told me that if I went there and did NOT buy a Powerball ticket....I might as well not come home at all.  Bad news, we didn't win....if I had, my journal would have far better graphics.  Ahem.
So my parents are making their way up to their room....and we're helping my dad up the stairs...and he says.

"When I get up there....I'm gonna make myself a stiff drink." (Dad NEVER travels without his Evan Williams and ginger ale--I mean, he's Irish for God's sake)

And then my mother says....

"After the day I've had, I might have a toddy myself."
"Whew Mom," my sister tells her, "you just might get lucky."
"Yeah grandma," my niece remarks, "you might have to stop over to Wal-Mart."

Damn.  I swore I wasn't going to go there.

The next morning, we got up and left--just a touch late--and began the drive home.
We stopped off and saw my aunt...and my cousin Robin and made our way back towards Jacksonville.  We stopped for gas and some snacks, and my brother almost ended up buying gas for everyone in the station!  We got back and everyone began to go their seperate ways.  I visited with my sister and her husband Johnny for awhile, until it was time to head towards the airport.  We sat for a few minutes, just talking and stuff...until I realized that they were probably boarding my flight already and I hadn't even gone through security.  My wife, a notorious stickler for time, would've been in full on freak-out mode.  I did a mini-dash through the terminal, (and let's be honest...I'm not going to dash anywhere for very long) and got to the gate just in time to see them begin boarding.  To me, that's good timing.  To my wife, it would be reasons for a meltdown.  But hey, we love one another, ya know?

My sister told me that while we were at the hotel, my parents were sitting in their room, talking about the funeral and some of the in-family bickering that had been taking place (UGH!  Why is it that funeral bring out the WORST in people?).  And my father told my mother how lucky they were....to have kids that loved each other so much.

I used to always say that my family was so normal.  We had problems like everyone else...we had our bumps in the road...sometimes more than one or two.  But we always knew that we could go to our family for help or guidance.  If it was something that we didn't want to discuss with our parents, we had each other. 
During 1997, or as I call it, my "Year of Living Dangerously"....my sister and I drove up to South Carolina to visit our aunt.  During the drive, we talked about everything.
I mean, even stuff that you would think siblings wouldn't want to discuss with each other.  And that's why we're so close.  Because we can.  Because sitting on a bed in a hotel room in Hampton, S.C., I can talk to my dad about my kids and my fears that I'm not being a good parent.  And because he can look me in the eye and tell me to stay the course...that I'm doing the right thing.  That's why we're all so close.
And so blessed to have each other.

Later,
Jeff

10/17/05---My Uncle Herb

So I got the phone call from my parents last week, telling me that my Uncle Herb, my mother's oldest brother had been taken to the hospital and was not doing well.
It was also expected that he would not be leaving the hospital either.  He had been having health problems for a number of years, in part to his age (85) and other things.  But you could never say that Herb Bunton didn't get his fair share of time.
85 years is a long life for anyone, and he lead an interesting life.  What I didn't know was just how interesting...and what an opportunity I missed to talk to him about it.

My earliest memory of my uncle was visiting him at his home where he raised collies.
When I say he raised collies....I mean he RAISED collies.  At the time of the visit, I think he had like 29 of them.  Over the years, he eventually got a farm and a few years ago my sister and I visited him and he very proudly showed us some of his livestock and his land.  He had lead a hard life, taken his share of bumps and bruises and seemed to have found a little peace working his land. 

So I flew up to Jacksonville to join my family on a trip to attend his funeral and honor his memory.  I had told my brother on the trip that people usually attend funeral for three reasons.
1) To honor the deceased
2) To see relatives they haven't seen in years.
3) To eat.
It was fairly simple, but that's how it goes.  Unfortunately, there was some squabbling going on within Uncle Herb's family and so all those that we had hoped to see weren't there.  But I got to see my cousin Robin, who was so much a part of my life when I was younger.  I hadn't seen her in over 10 years (seemingly a lifetime ago) and when I first saw her, I told my mother what my first thought was.

"Damn, she got old."

And then I realized that so had I, and that she was probably thinking the same thing.

And so we made our way to the funeral home.  I walked in and looked at a sea of faces that I didn't recognize.  A whole generation of family had come along and I didn't know any of them.  The service itself was a simple one, with the obligatory singing of Amazing Grace, although the version as sung was very touching.

And after the service was over, and I made my way to the cemetary, I availed myself of the opportunity to look at the pamphlet that the funeral home had provided.  It usually gives you a sketch of the person's life, with some of the highlights featured.  And three words jumped off the page at me.

NORMANDY
OMAHA BEACH

How did I not know?  How could I have not known that my uncle had served his country in the greatest conflict in world history?  How could I have not taken advantage of this and talked to him about his memories?  I felt ashamed of myself.
I felt saddened not only for the loss of my uncle, for the loss of my mother's brother, but for that lost opportunity to sit at my uncle's feet and have the honor of hearing about his service to our country. 

I don't do funerals well.  I guess its just my way.  I chose not to go and look at the body...not out of any disrespect...but because its just not my way.  Maybe it allows for a sense of detachment from the situation.  And maybe that detachment was with me, even as the military honor guard fired its guns 21 times, and as the bugler played "taps".  I had that sense of detachment as the flag was taken off of his casket and folded ever so carefully.  I had that sense of detachment as the young naval sailor approached his oldest child, my cousin Yvonne, with the folded flag and said:

"With the appreciation....of a grateful nation."

And the detachment was gone.....and I thought about those three words....and I realized that I lost....much, much more than just an uncle.

Later,
Jeff

10/17/05--My weekend in 5 parts--please pay attention

Here's how we're going to proceed:
1) My Friday Night "under the lights"
2) My Uncle Herb
3) Road Trip with my family
4) ND-USC
5) Monday Evening with the Rolling Stones!


1) So Friday night the kids school had an away game, and the band decided to make the trip (oh good) up to Pompano High School for a matchup with the Tornado's.  First of all, the map the school gave us were wrong.  Now I have a friend at work who told me that the school is right by the Amphitheatre where Kim and I saw Hall & Oates last year, which is just west of Federal Highway.  Kim is looking at the map and telling me that we should be west of I-95.  Somebody was wrong and I was guessing that it wasn't the person at work who had lived there for the last 30 years. 
Big surprise, the stadium is just west of Federal Highway.  First problem?  We park on the wrong side of the stadium.  Apparently the school that the game was played at is being prepared for demolition.  We parked near where the demolition is being prepared.  Hey, who knew?  Then it begins to rain.  What's the old Marty Feldman line from Young Frankenstein?

"Could be worse....could be raining...."  (Cue the thunder)

Anyway, we're standing there trying to figure out how to get around all the construction equipment and into the game when it begins to rain.  Now, naturally Kim has her umbrella and I have.....a smile.  I make the quick and rational decision that the car is a better place to wait and figure out how to get in.  While we're sitting there we decided to go to the opposite side (aren't we natual thinkers?) and check out the parking situation over there.  Sure enough, not only do we find parking, but the actual ticket window!  So we go up to sit down, Kim with her umbrella and towel to sit on....and just about then it begins to rain.  I don't just mean rain here either.  I mean....pour.  I mean a deluge.  I mean rain of a biblical kind.  Now part of me is happy, because I love watch football games when its raining....but the other part of me is sitting there in a rainstorm getting soaked.  My wife had only ONE umbrella in her car....and who wants to guess who was using it?  Huh?  No one?
Bueller?  Ferris Bueller?
The answer of course is that SHE was using it.  Oh, of course she offered to "share" the umbrella.  Women always do that.  Oh sure, they'll make the offer to share, but do you REALLY think they want to share and get soaked along with you?  Of course not.  So I told her, in my ever gracious way, that there was no sense in BOTH of us getting wet and that she should keep the umbrella to herself.  So I sat there, getting beyond just soaked.  I'm talking I could feel my underwear getting wet, and I don't have any known bladder control problem, so I knew it was from the rain.
So then, a few minutes later....as I'm sitting there, continuing to get wet....especially because the water from the top of my beloved's umbrella is cascading down on top of me, I hear Kim say....

"Alright, its official....I'm wet also."

She could barely see my smile.  Revenge is truly a dish best served cold.
Oh yeah, our team won also.

Later,
Jeff

10/15/05---Watershed Game

This might be the biggest game in South Bend since 1993 vs. FSU.  I got a chance to see some of the pep rally last night on ESPN News.  40,000 for a pep rally?
Joe Montana, Tim Brown & Chris Zorich firing up the crowd?  (Sniff, sniff)
I'm smelling something here....and it looks to me like:

38-Notre Dame
31 USC

You heard it here first.

Later,
Jeff

 

10/12/05---Story of the Day!! Maybe even the Year!!

Courtesy of Profootballtalk.com

VIKINGS GONE WILD

 

The team had Super Bowl aspirations.  Instead, it limped into the bye week at 1-3, featuring two blowout road losses. 

 

So what's the best way to re-focus during the off week?

 

"Howsabout we rent a boat and have a sex romp?"

 

According to The Associated Press, a group of at least 20 Vikings players were part of a group that went out on a pair of charter cruises on Thursday night.  Cornerback Fred Smoot reportedly paid for one of the boats, which featured sexual acts happening "all over the boat."

 

According to The Minneapolis Star Tribune, police are investigating the situation for possible prostitution, drug use, and illegal sex acts.

 

We're not quite sure what to make of this.  Our guess is that, like coach Mike Tice's Super Bowl scalping incident, the only aberration here is that the Viking players were dumb enough to get caught in the midst of their, um, shenanigans. 

 

Really, should it be a surprise that young men with high testosterone levels, plenty of cash, and a misguided sense of invincibility would engage in these behaviors?  Remember the Cowboys and their "White House"?

 

The difference between the 'Boys and the Vikes is that Michael Irvin and company confined their activities to a private residence.  The Vikings essentially engaged in their misbehavior in public.

 

If any of the Vikings players are convicted of any sex offenses as a result of the incident, they could be subject to discipline pursuant to the NFL's personal conduct policy.

 

10/11/05--HERE COME THE IRISH.....HERE COME THE IRISH.....

There used to be a great tradition at Notre Dame home games.  The players come onto the field through a tunnel that seperates two different seating sections.  On one side is the student section.  It used to be..."back in the day"....that as the players would begin to appear in the tunnel...before they would run onto the field....that the student section would begin to slowly chant:

"Here come the Irish.....Here come the Irish....."

I've read an article where one longtime ago opponent said it was one of the most intimidating things he'd ever experienced.  Sort of like being a Christian standing there and watching the lions parade by.  You were getting ready to go at it, but you sort of knew what the result was going to be....and usually, you didn't bet on the Christians--even if you get points.

I have, of course, watched my beloved Notre Dame Fighting Irish we great pride and joy so far this season.  I watched them destroy Pitt--and thereby throughly humiliate ESPN "analyst" (broadest use of the term) Mark May's alma mater.  I watched them take apart---DEFENSIVELY--a seemingly better Michigan team, continuing an almost inexplicable streak of head coach Lloyd Carr's Wolverines finding a way to lose to the Irish.  I watched next them have their first stumble, losing in heartbreaking fashion to Michigan State--a team that Notre Dame somehow loses inexplicably to each season--after one of the most dramatic comebacks in school history.  I watched them go out to Washington to confront the former head coach, and hopefully put all the stories about Ty Willingham's dismissal behind them---only to have Ty pull out the worst card of all in a halftime interview.  And most recently, I found them conqueor another demon, the Purdue Boilermakers.  This was, I'm a tad ashamed to admit, one that really had me worried in the pre-season.  But the closer I got to gametime, the more confident I became.  It appears that I was correct, as Notre Dame not only beat Purdue, but they dismantled them.  the final score of 49-28 was in no way indicative of the score.  It was 42-14 sometime early in the 3rd quarter when Charlie Weis called the dogs off.  Watching Joe "The Walrus" Tiller call timeouts with a minute left in the game to get a meaningless touchdown was somewhat laughable.  Unless maybe Joe had some action on the game, but I'm gonna doubt that one.    This was the game that introduced the country to a young kid from Indiana named Jeff Samardzija....who may end up being the best WR in the nation....that's not hyperbole.....that's just the truth.  Check out the effort on his first reception of the evening.....















Man will I be upset if that photo doesn't transfer to my blog.  It was as good a catch as you'll see all year.

And so now....the weekend is finally upon us.  The one that may truly show the character and ability of this year's team.  USC is coming to town.  The 2 time defending national champions sport one great player and athlete after another.
And yet....small chinks are beginning to appear in their armor.  Nothing that appears terribly important on their own mind you....but enough so that it has to begin to take their effects sooner or later.  Suspensions, transfers...early departures for the NFL.
Lou Holtz had a tremendous machine going in the early 90's until those sort of things begin derailing his train.  Little chinks in the armor.

The same kind you're beginning to see in the Trojans of SC.  What kind of game will it be?  I give ND the proverbial "punchers chance".  Their offense is good enough to stay with any team in the country.  The concern of course, will be the defense.  If we have an appearence by the defense that showed up against Michigan....our chances to win go up immeasurably.  If we get the defense that showed up against Michigan State....we're in trouble and may not be able to score points fast enough.  The game may also go a long way to determining whether or not Brady Quinn is a legitimate candidate for some end of the season awards.  It will be interesting, and for the first time since 1996 (ahem....last year of Holtz) I feel we're going into the game looking like we have the coaching edge--that's the sort of confidence that Charlie Weis inspires.  A college head coach who's won 4 out of his 5 games has the edge on the guy with the two national title rings.  We'll see though, as the countdown to kickoff continues to draw closer.....if you listen....you'll be able to hear the students.....

"HERE COME THE IRISH.....HERE COME THE IRISH....."

Later,
Jeff

10/6/05---Now, the tale can be told....

So we started doing this trial on Monday.  Battery case.  Ya know, one guy hit another guy...seemed fairly typical.  But, au contraire, mon fraire.  What we got instead was a case right off the set of the Jerry Springer show.  It was pretty good sleaze, if I do say so myself.  (Not that I would know anything about anything sleazy, but I digress)
So the case begins this way.  We have one guy...and I'll change some names here...named, I dunno....Ramon.  Now about a year or so back, Ramon goes to court with the sister of his girlfriend who was the victim of a battery charge.  She was kinda nervous about going to court and seeing her ex-boyfriend, and so she asks Ramon to go with her.  He does...the defendant, who I'll call....Jean-Claude (and I ain't talking Van Damme here Mr. Wiley) pleads the case out, but apparently there may have been some nasty comments said to one another either in the courtroom or the hallway.  Okay....time moves on.  Now Ramon, he's still dating his girlfriend, who we'll call....Shaniqua (get my drift and I think ya do).  Meanwhile, Jean-Claude has moved on and is dating Shaniqua's cousin...who we'll call....oh, Sha-nay-nay.  (Once again, I'm confident you get my drift).  Anyway, one night....Ramon is at work and lo & behold, Jean-Claude walks in there, with Sha-nay-nay.  Now some confuses ensues here, because Ramon claims to immediately recognize the guy, while Jean-Claude says he's confused, and doesn't remember Ramon (cough--bullshit).  Anyway, words are past and someone throws a swing at someone and a full scale scrap takes place, that ends up with Jean-Claude running out of the establishment with Sha-nay-nay waddling behind.
Oh wait...it gets better.  This "establishment", that I mentioned? 
"Megasex" store.  No, really.  Slapping each other senseless right next to the sex toys and Jenna Jameson videos.  Oh the humanity!

So the testimony starts in the trial, and Jean-Claude comes up...and he's a bit confused.  He can't remember everything that happened that night, but he remembers the guy yelling at him (who knows why??) when all he was trying to do was to rent a video.  Poor guy.  Ya go to rent your basic hardcore porn flick, and all ya get is some grief from the counter guy.
Now we come to the real Jerry Springer, moment of the day....the testimony of Jean-Claude's wife....Sha-nay-nay.  Now Jean-Claude had testified that he was pulling in the hard earned money working down to the Wal-Mart (Their motto:  "Killing off small businesses....all across America!!!").  Now Sha-nay-nay takes the stand and informs us, that sadly....she is without the benefit of employment.  That might explain the prior Grand Theft charges that she had against her according to the background search that was done by the defense attorney.  But again, I digress.
Meanwhile, another baliff has come up to take control of the 2 youngsters that she brought with her to court (always a good idea) who were about 3 and 4 years old.
Oh yeah, and she's about 7 months preggers....belly swelled like a tick after chewing on a dogs behind....and of course since she's beyond huge....she's taken this opportunity to wear her very best outfit that leaves her stomach exposed.
This, ladies and gentlemen, was NOT a pretty sight.  Indeed, oh the humanity.
Oh yeah, that and the approximately 58 Double D's she was sporting...yes sir, old Jean-Claude hit the marital lotto, no question about it.  So now, Sha-nay-nay starts the testimony and according to her, she had picked up her hubby at the Wal-Mart and on the way home....they decided, what the hell....let's swing by the MegaSex store for some hardcore pornography.  My wife and I usually hit Publix, where shopping is a pleasure...but maybe we're just not living the golden life here.
So the whole key to the trial here...as the defense attorney was trying to establish, was that Jean-Claude and Sha-nay-nay KNEW that Ramon was working at the MegaSex store, and basically went in there to stir up some shit, maybe get Ramon shitcanned as revenge for him helping out when Ramon went to court the other time against Jean-Claude.
Ya still with me on this wild ride?
Okay, so now...the defense attorney is doing his cross examination.  Again, he's trying to point out that it was NOT just a coincidence that they happened to go into that particular MegaSex store...that it was deliberate.  So he finally throws the question out to Sha-nay-nay....who gave us, truly, one of the greatest answers in courthouse history.
"So," the attorney says, "you just happened to decide to visit the MegaSex store?"
"That's right."
"And why was that?"
"Well....you know....we wanted to sex up our marriage and everything."

Its moments like that.....that are the reason I keep my sanity at work.

Not guilty by jury....just for the record.

Later,
Jeff

10/4/05--Tales of the Courthouse---Well, not just yet

Folks, I am in the middle of one of the alltime classic trials.  Unfortunately, it didn't end yesterday so I can't give you the grisly details.  But don't worry.  My entry after its over will be an alltimer.  Sex, violence.....and women who don't mind showing us waaaaay too much of their stomach.

Later,
Jeff