Veteran's Day Surprise

On Monday November 13, a Marine (…ok…former Marine…if there is such a thing…) friend of ours from our homeschool co-op, told us about Golden Corral’s “Veterans Appreciation Day”. According to the corporate website, Veterans eat dinner for free on the first Monday after Veterans Day. As it turned out, we also had some coupons for our kids, due to some academic achievements, from the same chain. So we all loaded up and went out to dinner.

We arrived some 20 minutes after the event began. There was already a line out the door and down the front of the building. An Air Force Lt. Colonel and Senior Master Sergeant were there opening the doors for people. An Air Force Jr. ROTC group helped wait tables, along with the Lions Club and the restaurant staff.

To be honest, I knew there were a lot of military people in our area. But, seeing the age range was surprising. There were single men. There were families. Some wore fatigues with their old uniform patches. Some wore ball caps with unit or vessel designations on them. Some wore their everyday clothes.

The thing that surprised me the most, was feeling like I belonged. I wasn’t alone. I have done many things over the years. I’ve been somewhat successful at most of it. I can truly say I have not done something catastrophic in any of my endeavors. But, no matter where I have gone, I have always felt like the odd man out. In general, those who have not served do not know what it means to be that committed. And, in our increasingly liberal, anti-military culture, well…But, that night, I belonged. I was in a place where we all understood the distant looks that went with the laughter. I was home.

My kids asked me why I kept getting this funny look on my face. I told them I was adjusting to being around family again. The Valour-IT competition, and this restaurant event, brought that home to me in a new way. No matter what branch of service we were in, we are all family.

This Veteran’s Day I did something new. I went to a family reunion of all the generations. I think it’s the first family reunion I was sincerely happy to attend.

Lessons In Honor

On October 22, 2006, I posted a message on the passing of Marine LCpl Manoukian. Rest assured, the prayer in that post (and every other In Memorium I write) is one we pray regularly for the families of the fallen. Just some simple words I wrote once—and could not think of a better way to write. Quite honestly, I copy and paste those words to each fallen soldier I mention on my blog.

Frankly, I’ve been struggling with posting things on fallen soldiers. I started doing it because of notes I read at Blackfive and Castle Argghhh. Mostly, I struggle with only being able to mention some of them. I began feeling it was wrong to mention some and not others. Another struggle is: how do I decide who to post on and who do I not. There are the soldiers I read about in the local paper. And, there are those I hear about on the national news, or read about on other blogs. How and where do you draw the line? Generally, I have no problem with posting on those listed at Any Soldier. I’ve spent two years sending packages and letters. In many ways, the troops who are signed up on that program are family. I don’t catch them all. But, I try.

I was particularly wrestling with this issue on Sunday and Monday, prior to leaving for Oklahoma over Thanksgiving. In fact, it grabbed so much of my attention, I forgot to check e-mail before I left. Wednesday, while visiting family, I had an opportunity to check mail. I was riveted to my seat by the first message. Then, I cried.

The e-mail was from LCpl. Manoukian’s mother, saying “Thank you” for what I had written. I had no idea that some simple words could have such an effect. I could never have imagined I would receive an e-mail from the family of a fallen warrior. I never dreamed I could touch them directly, let alone that they would contact me about it. I was humbled.

I called my children in and read them what I wrote, and what this wonderful, hurting woman had written back. I got choked up trying to read it back to them. They were speechless.
(…you will find her e-mail (edited) and my response in the comments to this post, and in the comments to the original post…)

Two days later, while driving home, I had the opportunity to teach one more lesson.

We stopped for a bathroom break in McKinney, Texas. The bathrooms only held one person at a time. There was myself, my wife, our two sons, and our two daughters. Needless to say, we were in line for a while.

While standing there, a motorcycle rider joined the line. He was by himself. On his leather vest were a bunch of patches: Air Force Staff Sergeant’s stripes, a flag, an MIA patch, and a few others. One, in particular, caught my attention. It said “Patriot Guard Rider.”

I asked if he had been on a ride. He nodded his head, looking down. He didn’t look down out of shame. It was out of regret. I simply leaned over, stuck out my hand, and said, “Thank you.” Suddenly, it was my turn in the bathroom. When I came out, he rushed in. There was no other exchange between us. My family was already at the car. I climbed in, and looked over my shoulder to watch the Rider start his bike and ride off.

My kids saw this man waiting in line. I wanted very much introduce my children to him, and explain to them what his group does. The chance did not materialize. Instead, I spent a few miles telling my children about the Patriot Guard Riders. All the while, I was looking at the horizon wondering where he had gone.

This Thanksgiving, I have a little more to be thankful for. My children learned the power of simple words and deeds. And, they’ve learned a lessons about honor in a way I doubt they’ll forget.

And, I have a reason to carry on the honor of remembrance. So, for all those who have fallen, we at our house remember your cry:

"Tell them of us and say,
For their tomorrow, we gave our today."
--The Kohima Epitaph--

We remember what you have given. And we say thank you for the tomorrows you have given others. May God give back to your families more than they have sacrificed and lost.

And, now, we dance In Memoriam.

(...and people wonder why we home school...tell me my kids would learn this in a classroom...)

A Lawyer Goes To Heaven

A lawyer died and went to meet God in heaven. On top that seeming impossibility, this man did something else unbelievable. He managed to take a bar of gold with him!

Standing in line, waiting his turn to be examined, he starts to get nervous. He noticed a man off to one side. Looking around nervously, he shuffles over to the man.

“Can I help you,” the man asked helpfully.

“Um…uummm” he says uncertainly. “I-I’ve got a problem. I need to talk with some one in authority.”

The other man’s eyebrows rose. “My name is Peter,” he replied seriously. “I’ve got a little clout around here. I have to admit, this is pretty unusual. What kind of problem are we talking about?”

The lawyer looked around again. With a shaky hand he reaches into his coat.

“I-I-I managed to bring something with me.”

“Really!” Peter’s eyebrows rose up even higher. “That’s quite an accomplishment. What did you bring?”

“Well…This,” the lawyer said, and pulled out the gold bar.

“What? Just pavement?”

*************

We have a skewed view of what really matters—Christians and non-Christians alike.

Sure, the Bible says the streets of heaven will be paved with gold. I’ve even heard it said that statement is the psychological expression of poor Christians’ wish for a better after life.

However. let’s put that in a different perspective. Is pavement really something to be desired? Sought after? Not really. Pavement is something to be used to get us from here to there in this life. It’s a tool. And, really, money is no different than pavement.

Money is a very useful thing. We may have a lot of money in this life. We may not. Biblically speaking, we must handle it faithfully in this life. But, in the eternal perspective, it isn’t supposed to be the driving desire of our hearts. When it is, money effectively becomes god.

So, is pavement god in your life?

About Dutch

Some years ago, I worked in a street shelter. Actually, I lived in one for about six months, before helping build another one and remaining on staff for a year. Anyway, I had the chance to meet some interesting people while I was there. One of them was Dutch.

Dutch was former Navy. The big thing about Dutch was he didn’t have much patience with folks. But, like all good sailors, he had some pretty good stories. One night, we were all sitting around over coffee. And Dutch told this one:

This was right after I got out of the Navy. I had just bought a car, was driving back to Arizona. The car registered in New York—because that’s where I bought it from my Uncle. I had a Tennessee driver’s license, because that’s where I lived before I went into the Navy. And, I had an Arizona address. In the middle of the night, driving across Tennessee, I got pulled over by a cop—for speeding.

The cop does the usual, “Boy, do you know how fast you were going?”

Being wise to back country cops, I held my tongue and said, “I’m sorry officer.” Then handed the guy my license, registration and insurance.

The cop looked at all the different addresses and goes back to his car. He was there for a while. When he came back, he was having this conversation with himself about how I must be a criminal or something

When he started talking about arresting me on general principle, I started to get worried. And the longer it went on, the more frustrated I got with him.

“Well, officer, I just got out of the Navy,” I said trying to be calm. “I’m moving to Arizona for a job.” I was really getting fed up with this guy.

The cop looked at all my stuff again. Then he shook his head and he starts giving me this lecture about driving and licensing and a bunch of other stuff.

“Just exactly where do you live, son,” he asked eventually.

I leaned out o the car window, and pointed at this really bright star.

“You see that star right there,” I asked in the most serious voice I could put together.

“That bluish one right?”

“Yeah, well, I live in the one just to the left of it with the two car garage.”

A Coach Speaks To The Right

In case you haven’t figured it out from the categories in this blog—and my prior postings—I love ice hockey. I got into in-line hockey because that’s what was available to use for extra training in my early coaching days here in Texas. Now, in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area there is a lot of ice. But, ice hockey has always been my passion. I played for a couple years as a kid—but not after age 13. And, I wasn’t really that good. I think the most important thing I learned from the game was to dream—and to believe.

My first year coaching, the team lost the first seven out of fifteen games. It was a hard beginning. I’ve written a couple of stories from those days. You can find them here and here. The one thing I knew from looking at their faces was they wanted to win—to have some success. And, one day, the team woke up and decided to believe in themselves.

It was a weeknight practice, after game number 8. We tied that one 2-2. I think only about half, maybe two-thirds, of the players were even there. It was right after the US Women’s Hockey Team won the first gold medal for their event. I wish I could remember all of what I said that night. Here’s what I do remember:

I stood in that locker room and asked them, “Why are you here?”

Two or three went, “Huh?

“You got into this for a reason. What was it? What is it you want out of being here?”

One kid, named Jamie, said, “To have fun.”

“OK,” I said. “Any body else?”

A kid on the other side of the room, Nick, said, “To win.”

I looked him in the eye, pointed at his chest and said, “All right. But, you’ve got to give up some of your winning” and pointed my finger at Jamie and said, “so he can have fun.”

Nick looked at me like I had lost my mind.

I turned and looked at Jamie and said, “And you have to give up some of your fun so he can win.”

Now, both of them were looking at me like I had just uttered some sort of gibberish.

“That’s what it means to be a team. It’s not just about you.”

“The Ladies Hockey Team just won a gold medal. They dreamed for something that didn’t exist…and they got it. You are here because you want something…because you dream for something. What is it you want out of this season?”

To my great surprise, Jamie said, “I want to win the championship.”

Just a simple statement. He was even fairly quiet about it. But everyone heard him. Several heads raised up slightly.

I said, “It's going to take working together. It's going to take you working at practice. It's going to mean sometimes you give up what you want for you team mates. Are you willing to that?”

I recall only a few voices saying yes. But I also remember several heads nodding.

"All right. Let’s go do that then."

And, we went out of the locker room and had practice.

But, in eight regular season games, and 3 playoff games, those kids only lost 2 more game and tied one. The championship trophy is in my office. It’s on the floor behind a bunch of stuff. But, it’s a constant reminder of what can happen when people get together behind a common goal, constantly and consistently do the right things, and believe in something bigger than themselves.

Like I said, I wish I could remember everything I said. Because I would love to make that speech to the conservatives and Republicans right now.

If you will stay focused on the goal…If you will constantly and consistently do what is right…And believe in a future you cannot physically see…wonderful things can happen.

Team MVPs

One of my goals when I first started coaching was to help the kids learn to honor each other. So, I came up with season awards. Yeah, I know, every coach does this. And usually, it’s a pretty big list so that everyone gets an award. But that’s not what I did. I don’t believe in giving awards just for the sake of giving awards. I created a list of awards where not every player would get one. I had 14 players that year, and I only gave out 9 awards. Four of those awards were decided by how you played on the ice (points, goals, etc.). The rest were voted on by the team. Team MVP started out being a coach’s choice. That stopped the first time I did this. Here’s why:

I gave out a little flyer to each player to vote on who was worthy of being named to the awards: best defenseman, best defensive forward, most improved player, and best rookie. On the bottom, I included a place to vote for the team MVP. I was pretty curious what the players would choose-- but, I had already decided who would get it. I based my decision on how the team had rallied around a mid-season recruit we had picked up. He was our scoring leader hands down. But, his appearance had also caused the rest of team to double in scoring. Prior to his appearance, we had lost 7 games straight—and there were only 8 left to go. We only lost two more the rest of the season. Needless to say, because of their reaction to him, this kid was named team captain.

We were playing in the house leagues—which means every team goes to the playoffs, so we had a possible three more games added to the season. Despite being the basement team all year long, the team roared into the playoffs. And, those kids ended up winning the championship in a shoot out against a team they had not beaten all season. It was awesome! I got the last of the ballots back after that championship game, went home and started tallying the votes. By the way, I love it when kids catch on to something. There is nothing quite like watching the light go on their eyes as they “get it” and go run with it. And these kids “got it” better than I did.

I mentioned we lost the first 7 games of the season (10-0, 7-0, 4-1, 4-3, 2-1, 4-1, and 7-1). What I didn’t say was our goalie, after six games, had a goals against average of 5.66. If you go back and read my previous post about the season, you’ll know I struggled early on as a coach. But, our goalie hung in there. At the end of the regular season, our goalie had a goals against average of 3.75. Her playoff goals against average was a flat 2.00. Yup, you read that right, our goalie was a girl. (...the US ladies won Olympic gold that year, too...imagine that...who says girls can't play the game?...)

The voting that year for team MVP was actually split between our mid season addition and our goalie. The best part? My two MVPs voted for each other. Those 12-13 year old kids recognized who got them where they were, better than I had. And, they honored it.

Like I said, I love it when kids catch on to something.

FLUFFWHIMPLES!

It was East Texas. It was August. My buddy and I were laying a new roof on a house. The homeowner was up there with us. It was one of those day-labor type jobs. A two day job, actually. It was an interesting job. We had to do a complete tear-off and lay down. In the process of the tear off, we found a portion of the decking held up by bricks balanced on a ceiling joist!

This family was really nice. They kept a steady stream of Gatorade and such coming. We were all VERY glad. It was hot on that roof!

We got curious on day two about how hot it really was. So, we took a porch thermometer and laid it on the roof around noon. It was one of those big round things you can get at Walmart, or Target, or wherever. Kind of wish we hadn’t done that. It pegged out almost immediately beyond the 120 degree scale—halfway to zero around the bottom!

Anyway, by about two o’clock the second afternoon, the heat was getting to me. I was getting a little loopy. My temper was getting short. Around 3:00 I was laying the cap on one part of the ridge. I don’t know how long I spent trying to get this one shingle to line up. I just remember getting more and more frustrated. I was so mad I just wanted to scream! I just couldn’t get any words to form in my head—or on my tongue.

Suddenly, this voice shouted, “Oh, fluffwhimples!”

I looked around wondering who had said that. I also wondered where someone got avoice that sounded just like mine. Well, my temper was instantly gone. I was, honestly, confused. And, of course, the other two guys were looking at me—totally bewildered.

It actually took us another two hours to finish the last of the roof and the rest of the ridge cap. All the while we looked at each other saying, “What’s a fluffwhimple?”

We never did figure it out. If you happen to know...pass it on!

Mr. Stealth

I had signed up to be an assistant ice hockey coach in the house leagues at a local rink. I knew nothing about coaching, and I knew I knew it. And, time went on.

I didn't hear back from the rink staff about schedules or acceptance. The season start date was only a couple weeks away. I guessed I wasn't going to be coaching that year. Yes, I was really down about it. I'd really gotten excited and was looking forward to it.

Then...the call came in!...The week after the player evaluations. The player draft would be that Thursday night. Could I be there? Absolutely, I said without breathing. And, then I was told I would be the head coach. My partner, an experienced coach, was an airline pilot and would probably be gone a lot. In fact, he wasn't able to attend the meeting.

I was so nervous sitting at that table! There were five coaches, and me. We made introductions. The hockey program director told the others I was a rookie coach. I instantly received looks that basically said, "Oh you poor guy." You see, they had all made the evaluations. They knew who the good players were. And, they knew I didn't. We went around the table picking from the player list going through the rankings one level at a time. I literally sat through the meeting holding the list of available players going, "OK, God. Who do I pick next?"

Finally, after two hours, the ordeal was over. I had my list of players. There were thirteen names, including one goalie. I had no clue who any of them were, or what they could and couldn't do. I think I left that meeting more nervous and scared than when I went in because now I had to call the players and make introductions....And, I still didn't know what I was doing.

Of my twelve players, I think I had three with any real experience. Which is good and bad. It's good because it meant there were very few that knew I was clueless about what I was doing. Bad because they were sadly disappointed, and it carried over to the rest of the team. I ended up losing one player to another team, for car pool reasons, which left me eleven players and a goalie.

We had six practices before our first game. I think it was the fourth one when my coaching partner handed me two drill books. I devoured those two books. And, I got SO excited! By the end of that week, I finally understood what I was supposed to be doing! Those next two practices were really good ones. And, then it was time for game number one...

The coaches were all told the league jerseys would be late--a couple weeks late. So, the home team would need to wear light colored jerseys and the visitors dark colored jerseys. After announcing this to my players at the next practice, I discovered almost everyone had only one jersey--some dark, some light. My wife and I discussed the possibility of making pullovers for the team--rather than making everyone buy another jersey. On the way home from practice number 6, we visited a couple of fabric stores. And, lo and behold, we found this stretchy, bright yellow fabric. I was thrilled. What I really wanted was a way my team could go out dressed alike--to look like a team.

My wife doesn't do a lot of sewing. She likes to. And, she's good at it. She just doesn't do it often. This time, she really worked at it and was able to make ten pullovers out of that small roll of fabric. But, I had 11 skaters on the team, which meant I needed I needed eleven pullovers.

Ten of my players showed up for the game number one. Everyone got a pullover. The parents all thought it was great. The officials were surprised--and pleasedThey really liked the idea of not working so hard at sorting out who was on what team. They all thanked me. The players, though--every one of them--rolled their eyes.

I don't think I considered until that moment how ugly that yellow color really was. But, like real troopers, those kids put the pullovers on, went and played their hearts out. And lost. 10-0. After the game, I told them the loss was on me because I was still trying to learn how to coach. It didn't help their feelings much. We all went home, pretty subdued.

The next game, all eleven players showed up. We were the visitors. So we were supposed to have dark jerseys. I checked with the other coach. None of his players had a black jersey. So, I had our eleventh player, his name was Chance, put on a black jersey. He looked really unhappy about not being dressed like everyone else. I felt bad about it, too. I made sure I told the on-ice officials, and the other coach, about the jersey thing. And, then...I forgot about it.

When I'm coaching, I've learend to focus my attention on how the team performs, with an eye to the next practice. I do pay some attention to induvidual players. I kept the stats back then--as well as being coach. I knew who is shooting the puck, scoring, checking, getting penalties, and so on. Posted it in the locker room every practice, too. I still do all that. I've spent almost six years on benches learning these habits. But, this being only my second game, I was totally lost.

So, it was some time late in the first period before I realized the other coach was really upset. I took a long look out on the ice.

Play was stopped. The face-off was in our zone--left of our goal. There were my six players on the ice--3 forwards, two defensemen, and a goalie. Everyone was lined up perfectly for the face-off. Chance was on the right wing. The official started redirecting players for the face off. That wasn't unusual in this league the first game or two. I kept looking around. Then, I blinked.

The official was making Chance line up with the other team! Worse, the official was sending one of the other coach's players back to the bench, with a warning about too many men on the ice. And, he was telling me I needed one more player on the ice. So, I called the referree over and explained the situation again. He nodded. Apologized to the other coach, saying he forgot. And, play resumed.

Two plays later, Chance was off-sides. For those who don't know hockey, that means he's in the opposing zone ahead of the puck. Play is supposed to stop and move outside the zone for a face-off. The poor ref was just standing there watching Chance move in on the other team's puck carrier. Chance's black jersey looked like it fit in just fine with the two defensemen's jerseys--one maroon and one dark green.


Two plays later, Chance was off-sides again. This time, he actually stole the puck and took a shot on goal, without the referree realizing what had happened. I thought the other coach was going to explode!

Well, the problem never did get resolved. It did get better. The ref was really getting the hang of it by the end of the game. And, by the middle of the second period, the other coach calmed down a lot. Probably because his team was winning by a sizable margin.

We ended up losing that game, too--7-1. But, we didn't care as much. We were actually laughing in the locker room. We had a secret weapon.

We had Mr. Stealth.

And, Now, For Something Completely Different

This was an old writing exercise. I found a copy cleaning my desk, and thought I would share it. This is what happens when you just write from the top of your head, without editing. Enjoy!


THE COLORED DOORS
The red door leads to the green room. The green room has three doors; the blue, the white and the red. The red door elads to the black room. But, you will need to get the light from the yellow room to find your way out of the black room.
The yellow room can be found by going through the blue door in the green room, which leads to the purple room. The purple room has three doors--the yellow, the purple, and the orange. The orange door leads to the yellow room. The yellow room has a wonderful, beautiful light in the middle of it.
To get out of the yellow room, you have to leave through the white door. This takes you into the brown room. The brown room has three doors--two white and one blue. You must leave the brown room through the other white door, which leads to the blue room. The blue room takes you back the green room, and the red door that leads you into the black room. You know...The one you needed the light from the yellow room to find your way out of?