Reform Starts at the Top

For some reason the idea of our government providing the citizens with health-care became connected with communism. The United States is the only industrialized nation that does not have a system of nationalized health-care in place.

Our current Congress is trying to "reform" health-care.

This is a bad idea.

People who are in favor of nationalized health-care believe everyone should have access to relatively inexpensive (or free) health-care. People shouldn't have to worry about going bankrupt because of health issues.

Those against universal health-care think the government will probably screw up the system just like they do everything else. They're worried we'll lose our spirit of medical innovation and become bogged down in delays waiting for routine procedures. They're worried taxes will rise to pay for medical treatment. They're concerned they will have to pay for abortions, boob jobs, and lung-cancer treatment for smokers.

Maybe paying for boob jobs isn't so bad.

I'm here to dispel a few fears.

1. Health-care is already the most bureaucratic system in the country. Would government control really make it worse?

2. Health-care is already very expensive. Have you looked to see what your employer pays in premiums? Assuming you have employer provided health insurance.

3. The bureaucrats are already making decisions about providing care. Not everybody gets what they think they need.

4. There are vast inequities in the quality of care around the country. If you happen to live in a suburban area, you probably have access to good quality care and services. If you live in a rural area or inner-city, you're probably out of luck.

The problem with reforming health-care is that we're trusting Congress to do it.

Bad move.

I'm starting to think our system of government is much more effective at creating waste, obstructing, and pandering to special interests. Congress is elected by the people to represent their voice in Washington. Unfortunately the voice with the most money shouts the loudest. Democrats and Republicans are no different.

So Congress starts crafting a piece of legislation that is a mess. Every Congressman and Senator has to put their own little twist to the legislation. The result costs a lot of money and will never achieve its intended purpose.

If they really wanted to enact health-care reform they would enact legislation appointing a non-partisan blue ribbon committee containing various people in the health-care industry - Doctors, nurses, hospital administrators, economists, consumer advocates, academics, even a lawyer or two.

This committee would study various health-care systems from around the world. It would craft a plan containing the best aspects and present this plan to Congress. Congress would then have the opportunity to accept the plan or reject it. No changes.

If we could keep the 535 members of our legislative branch from getting their grimy fingers on our health-care, we might achieve something.

It's never going to happen.

Unfortunately, the nationalized health-care ship in this country probably sailed sometime in the Fifties. The system is too large and too entrenched to change.

Brains and Blood

Vampires and zombies are very popular in pop-culture these days. If you allow me to over-generalize, I'll break it down for you.

Vampires and zombies are both "undead". They are also contagious. The bite of a vampire turns a hapless human into a vampire and the same is true for the bite of a zombie.

The similarities end there.

Vampires are good-looking, romantic, brooding, highly intelligent, and possessed with superhuman strength. Chicks dig this kind of stuff.

Zombies are decayed, mindless, eating machines.

Teenage girls love vampires. Twilight and True Blood are immensely popular with the young ladies in our society. They love the idea of a handsome strong vampire sweeping them off their feet and blessing them with eternal youth.

I don't get it.

Teenage boys love zombies. There is no romance with zombies. It's just mindless killing (or unkilling). Boys love the idea of letting loose with a shotgun, shovel, or flamethrower. There are no flamethrowers in vampire movies.

I get zombies.

Sure, It's the Coldest Winter in Years...

One of the great things about living in Southern California is that you can go to the snow.

Did you catch that?

Go to the snow.

Yes, it's true. I can get in my car in the winter time and drive an hour to the mountains and enjoy the snow. I never have to worry about the snow coming to me.

No shovelling sidewalks, no frozen pipes, no crushing heating bills, no salt crusted roads. It's kind of awesome.

Today, we got in the Jeep and drove to Big Bear to play in the snow. It's the last day of Christmas vacation for Tabitha and the kids so we thought it might be fun.

We went to an area called Magic Mountain where for an exchange of a few dollars, they allow you to sign your life away and ride an inner tube down a groomed snow covered hill. We packed all of our warm clothes but didn't need them because it was about fifty degrees.

Wheee!

It's not as steep as it looks.

What's Aidan doing with that snowball?

Fight!

Run away.

An accidental self-portrait. Look how blue the sky is.

It looks like he's holding a tiny inner tube on his shoulder.

Abigail loved it.

Getting ready for a run.

What's going through that evil little mind.

The magic carpet ride.

This is Awkward

One of my buddies at work was dating a girl for a while. She was young and good looking. She would come and hang out with us in the middle of the night. She even bought pizza the other night.

But then they broke up.

There's a correlation between hotness and crazy. It might be a direct correlation. But, anyway, that's a topic for another post.

So they broke up but she is still kind of stalking him. Today, I got a friend request from her on Facebook.

We don't travel in the same circles. I don't have anything in common with her accept she was dating my buddy. Was. Dating.

Not dating now.

So I'm left with a quandary. I haven't ignored very many friend requests. I've accepted friend requests from people I don't know but we know somebody in common. I'm pretty democratic with my friends on Facebook. I also haven't unfriended anybody although I've tried my darndest to get people to unfriend me.

I'm tempted to ignore the friend request.

Into Every Life...

It's raining.

Some people get all upset and perturbed when it rains. Not me. I love the rain.

Actually I don't love it so much when I'm standing on a dark rain slicked street because someone "fell asleep" and took out a light pole.

But the rest of the time I love the rain. It's pretty amazing stuff if you think about it.

Water evaporates and condenses. And then falls back to earth. It's like free water.

Sure, most of the time we buy our water in plastic bottles at the supermarket. Or we ship it down from northern California in big canals. But when it rains, that stuff just falls out of the sky.

I even turned off my sprinklers.

I Wasn't Ready For This

We found her outside my in-laws house. She was hiding in the bushes where she had been abandoned. She was about a month old and meowing loudly. She tried to run away but I managed to catch her and bring her inside.

Tabitha and I had been married for only a couple of months. Our apartment complex required a deposit and a monthly surcharge to have a pet. We wanted a cat but couldn't afford the extra money. We were going to wait. She moved our timetable up.

She was about four inches long and full of energy. She ran around the apartment, chasing us and attacking our feet. She would hide on the bookcase. She loved to lie on Tabitha's chest and stare at her.

After a few months, we brought another kitten home. We thought it might mellow her out and give her someone to play with. It nearly killed her.

The new kitten came from the shelter with a cold. While the new kitten quickly recovered, she lost weight, had trouble breathing, and was generally listless. We spent a few weeks driving back and forth to the vet. She recovered and surprisingly became very mellow.

She moved with us from our first apartment to the in-law's. She weathered another change when we moved to our first house. She was the timid cat who would hide when strange footsteps walked across the porch.

If you were patient, she would peer out from her hiding place and slowly approach you. Once she got to know you, she grew to love you.

She had a distressing habit of peeing in bags left on the floor. I opened my soccer gear bag at a game to find the pungent aroma of cat urine. I washed everything as best I could. My cleats smelled like cat pee for about two years afterward. I didn't see the need to buy new ones because nobody is smelling your shoes on the soccer pitch (they're still in the garage).

She weathered the arrival of Abigail. She moved to an apartment with us. She moved to our new house. She chose the downstairs bedroom as her own. She grew to tolerate Abigail.

She then began to love Abigail. Last week I found her sleeping on Abigail's bed. She still sat next to Tabitha while she read, gazing at her with her bright green eyes. She was always afraid of Aidan. His energy and inability to be gentle kept them apart.

Last week I found her sleeping on the pillows in the downstairs bedroom. I noticed she seemed a little frail when I picked her up. The next day she was struggling to move. I found her hiding in a corner, a puddle of urine beneath her.

Tabitha took her to the vet for some tests. He thought her kidneys and liver were failing. She could barely move. She'd lie spread-eagle on the kitchen floor and meow plaintively. She wasn't eating. Today we decided it was time.

I knew this day was coming. I just wasn't ready for it yet.

My dad and I drove her to the vet. My dad held her wrapped in a towel while I drove, fighting back tears. The vet asked me if I wanted to stay in the room or let them take care of it in private. I owed it to her to be there.

I stroked her head as the vet injected the solution. She let out a sigh and then her eyes began to droop. At about 12:05 she stopped breathing.

I cried on the way home.

She was a good cat.

Dance

My kids take dance lessons. Abigail has been going for about 4 years. Aidan just started this year. He's the only boy in a class of girls. They seem to enjoy it and it gets them off the street.

Every year or so the studio puts together a big show. All the different classes perform over two nights. The youngest children usually get big cheers for their cuteness while the older kids get big cheers for their phenomenal dancing ability.

I love watching the show.

And not just because my kids are in it.

You see, I'm a frustrated dancer. I'm envious of the coordination, athleticism, grace and freedom of the dancers.

In my mind, I can do all these awesome moves. I moonwalk like Michael Jackson. I leap like Nureyev. I have the grace of Fred Astaire. Sometimes I break into a spontaneous dance when I'm in the middle of doing something... like cooking dinner or mowing the lawn.

But that's only in my mind.

The reality is that I sometimes bob my head to the beat while listening to the stereo in the car. I probably look like I'm having a seizure.

Anyway, I'm glad the show weekend is over. Aidan stole his routine and Abigail was the cutest jelly fish on stage. I just tapped my foot to the beat and clapped loudly.

Too Big

Have you ever thought about dinosaurs? Those things were huge. Giant reptiles roaming the earth, eating massive amounts of vegetation and meat. I've seen "Jurassic Park" so I know a little about dinosaurs.

Some dinosaurs were as big as city buses. Some stood as tall as three story houses. Gargantuan winged reptiles soared through the skies emitting piercing shrieks.

Have you ever wondered why there aren't any animals that big anymore?

The largest land animal is an elephant. They're pretty big but they're tiny compared to a brontosaurus. The largest flying creature is the albatross with its eight to twelve foot wingspan. They're miracles of efficient soaring.

If you look in the ocean, you can find creatures rivalling the dinosaur for size. Blue whales, the largest animal, can reach nearly one hundred feet long. Other whales are smaller but still massive. But whales have an advantage - buoyancy.

What was it about the age of dinosaurs that allowed creatures to grow to heroic sizes and survive. Why did they not run out of food necessary to support they're colossal frames? Why are there not similar animals roaming the earth today?

I've got a theory that goes something like this - There was only so much room in the ark.

There's Only 24 Hours in a Day

When I started my freshman year of college, I was forced to take a one unit orientation class. It had some new-agey name like "Connections". I was fresh out of the Navy, a Gulf War veteran, and, frankly, a know-it-all ass.

But there I was, with all the other incoming freshman.

One of the areas covered was time management. We needed to learn how to spend our time wisely so we wouldn't flunk out of school and be forced to join the military. I scoffed.

What did I need time management for? I was taking twelve units. My first class started at noon. I didn't have a job, a girlfriend, or a social life. I stayed up past midnight just so I wouldn't wake up too early.

In the Navy, there were only two rules for time management:

1. Show up on time.
2. Do what you're told.

Easy.

That first semester in college I earned straight "A's". It was the first time I'd ever managed a four point oh.

The next semester I had a few more friends and a job. I earned two "A's" and two "B's". Uh-oh. Now I had a three point five.

I won't bore you with the details but the downward trend continued. Just between you and me, I'm lucky to have a college degree.

As a nearly forty-year-old adult with two small children, a time-consuming job, and a lovely wife, I need to manage my time wisely. I muddle through. I even keep a calendar now. But there are so many things that I should get done that don't.

There's activities and sports my children should be participating in. There are weekends I should be spending alone with Tabitha. There are projects around the house that need to be finished, not to mention the ones that need to be started.

I should have paid attention to the time management seminar.

Bedtime

It's about eight o'clock as I sit down at the computer to write this. Tabitha is lying in bed reading one of the Harry Potter books. She's been in bed for about 15 minutes already. This is her usual routine (at least on my days off). She's an early to bed, early to rise kind of girl (only because of her alarm).

Abigail is downstairs watching the movie "Over the Hedge." She will come upstairs in about twenty minutes and tell me she is ready for bed. If she is really tired she'll say, "No story tonight" and she'll crawl into bed and fall instantly asleep. She usually wakes up with the sunrise.

Aidan is vacuuming downstairs. He's been vacuuming for the last hour. Pretty soon, I'll go downstairs and tell him it's time for his shower (he likes to shower now). He won't be happy. He'll want to watch his shows on TV. I'll insist he takes his shower and then I'll let him watch "Wow, Wow, Wubzy." He'll sit on the couch transfixed by the television. At about ten, I'll go downstairs, turn off the TV, and put him in his bed. He won't be happy about this either. He'll cry and complain and insist I read "two" stories for him. I'll agree to one. He'll insist he's not tired. He is. Eventually he will lie down and ask me to put his blankets on him.

And then the house will be quiet.

There was a time when I went to bed relatively early. My days of choosing to stay up late and getting up early are long in the past. Now, I have no choice.

I've been working the graveyard shift at the salt mine for over a year now. It has started to screw up my sleep cycle. I can't get to bed much before midnight. I'll lay in bed reading until about one o'clock. And then I'll shut off the light and try to get to sleep.

Try.

Sometimes I go to sleep quickly. Some nights I don't. When the alarm goes off at six o'clock, I'm not really ready to get out of bed. But I do.

For some reason, I have an overwhelming desire to take a nap at about noon.

I'm Watching You

When I was Aidan's age, my family lived in small town Indiana where my dad was attending seminary. My mom was busy caring for my two younger sisters and we didn't have a television. To keep me out of her hair, she would send me outside to play.

Unsupervised.

I can hear the gasps from here. Yep, my mom let her three-year-old son play outside without an adult watching his every move. Crazy!

And yet, somehow, I survived to be a semi-productive member of adult society. She had one rule for me when I went outside:

"Tell me where you are going."

Most of the spankings I received (perhaps a topic for another post) were because I failed to remember this one little rule. I would get so caught up in whatever I was doing that I would forget to go back and tell her what new location I had decamped to.

Amazingly I was never kidnapped.

These days, you are a bad parent if you let your children out of your sight for one moment. Bad things could happen. Your child could be kidnapped, molested, jumped into a gang, crash on his bicycle, given drugs, given candy, given non-organic food, given non-locally grown non-organic food.

The horror.

I think we, as parents, need to lighten up a little. Kids need some unsupervised time to themselves to figure out how things work. They need to learn how to negotiate with their friends without adult intervention. They need to learn that it's "okay" to fall down and skin their knees. They need to start to learn how to be independent.

Because seriously, I don't want to be taking care of my kids when they are in their forties.

They should be taking care of me.

It's Like Riding a Bike

We bought Abigail a bike about two years ago. It was a cheap little BMX from Walmart. I figured she could learn to ride on that and then pass it on to Aidan.

We finally removed the training wheels a few weeks ago.

My little girl, who jumped off a high dive at the age of five, was afraid of falling on her bike. She was content to pedal around the street leaning on the training wheels.

It was driving me crazy. Every time I suggested removing the training wheels, she started to cry.

A few weeks ago, she was riding a neighbor kid's scooter.

"Daddy, I can ride the scooter."

"If you can ride that, you can ride your bike without training wheels."

"Okay, take off the training wheels."

She shed a few tears that first day but picked it up pretty quickly. It was as if a switch was thrown inside her head.

I look forward to riding my bike with her around the street. Aidan pedals furiously on his tricycle to keep up with us. Sometimes, the neighbor kids are out on their bikes. We ride in circles on the cul-de-sac, trying to keep from crashing into each other. It's been great.

I want to get her a new bike for Christmas. I've got my eye on an Electra Hawaii.

She's Growing Up

Abigail's Second Grade portrait.

A Basket Left by the Door

He sits on the couch, completely focused on the television screen.

It's dark outside. A young woman carrying a basket looks furtively around her. She approaches a large door and rings the bell. Twice.

A woman opens the door and finds a baby.

Aidan wanted to watch "Meet the Robinsons" today. The movie (for those without children) is about a young orphan who tries to build a machine that will show him the face of his mother. There are time machines, singing frogs, a man in a bowler hat, and the voice of Tom Selleck in the movie.

Aidan loves it.

Aidan came to our family when he was five days old. He has never seen the face of his birth mother. We are the only family he knows.

We haven't kept his adoption a secret. He understands it about as well as you would expect from a three-year-old. He knows he didn't come from Mommy's tummy. Today in the car he implied most people don't know their mommy and daddy.

What does he think when he watches the movie?

As much love as we give him, there must still be a piece missing for him.

Keep the Rubber Side Down, Part 1

Late in my high school career I started to dream of owning a motorcycle. Two wheels meant freedom, excitement, danger. It meant breaking away from the mundane. Motorcycles were cool.

My only previous experience with a motorcycle ended with me crashing into a trailer and opening a deep gash on my leg. That incident cost me a week in the hospital and about three months in a splint. I missed the last few weeks of my fourth grade year.

I wasn't going to let that stand in my way.

What did stand in my way was a lack of funds and an inability to save more than two dollars at any given time. My motorcycle dream was on hold.

While I was in the Navy I had subscriptions to a couple of motorcycle magazines. Every month I would devour the descriptions of the newest machines the motorcycle manufacturers offered. Each new model offered incremental improvements that rendered the previous model hopelessly obsolete. I could think of dozens of motorcycles I would like to own.

However, being somewhat intelligent I didn't want to buy the most powerful model for my first bike. I wasn't going to be one of those knuckleheads riding a GSXR 1000 while wearing flip-flops and no helmet. I was going to do it right.

One day I was reading the magazine when I saw the Suzuki Bandit 400. This motorcycle touched something very deep within my soul. It was red. Its tiny four-cylinder motor wasn't hidden by plastic. It revved to 14000 rpm.




It looked awesome.

I'd saved a little money during the Gulf War. I returned to a father happy to have me home and willing to help me buy a motorcycle. We went to our local motorcycle dealer and exercised Pop's credit card. The next day I rode home on my new motorcycle.

The Night Shift

I've been working nights in the salt mine for about a year now. At first, most days passed in a fog of half remembered conversations and missed appointments. I struggled to sleep during the day, the bright sun boring its way through my closed eyelids. I would fall asleep and then wake up four hours later and not be able to return to the blissful dream-like state.

I never even considered taking a sleep medication because, seriously, who has eight hours to devote to sleep.

Slowly I got used to my world being turned topsy turvy.

I remember most conversations now.

Things turned around for me when I splurged on a set of heavy drapes. They block most of the sun out and allow me to sleep in relative darkness. I still have a lot trouble making the drive home in the early morning hours. Sometimes I'll stop at Starbucks for a cup of coffee and a chance to stretch my legs.

Only once did I catch myself shutting my eyes for a moment too long. The rhythmic rumble of the reflectors glued to the freeway startled me awake.

But things are not all rosy.

On my days off I can't get to sleep until midnight. This is normal for many people but my family is usually sound asleep by nine-o'clock. And then I have this nearly uncontrollable urge to take a nap at about eleven in the morning.

Yesterday morning, I came home from work and crawled into bed. I slept for about six hours and then woke up with a splitting headache. I called in sick. The family went to bed at their usual time. I stayed up until about eleven and then crawled into bed to read. I read until one.

And then I couldn't sleep. I just laid in bed for five hours drifting into and out of consciousness. My afternoon nap was a welcome relief.

Tonight I'll do it all over again.

Autumn - A Contrast

In many parts of the country, the impending arrival of Autumn is characterized by:

1. The days grow shorter.

2. The nights are cooler.

3. The leaves change colors and drop from the trees.

In California, the arrival of Autumn is indicated by:

1. The days grow shorter.

2. A hot dry wind blows from the north east.

3. The humidity drops.

4. It grows hotter.

5. Everything catches on fire.

Notice the difference?

Driving's a Privilege

Remember back to those days as a young teenager when you couldn't wait to get your driver's license.

A license meant freedom.

Independence.

The chance to see a little more of the world.

I used to just get in my 1967 Chevy pickup and drive. I would drive all over Southern California listening to the Smiths and Depeche Mode on my cassette player.

Good times.

I was doing a little math the other day (not my strong suit) and discovered I drive about 70,000 miles a year.

That's a lot of driving.

Driving doesn't really represent freedom or independence for me anymore. It's more of an obligation. I drive to work. I drive at work. I drive home. I drive my family to their destinations. I drive back to work.

And then there's the financial cost of this privilege: gas, car payments, insurance, tolls, maintenance. It adds up... fast.

I'm thankful I have a nice car with a good stereo, comfortable seats and air conditioning - things I dreamed about as a teenager. It makes the many hours every week I spend behind the wheel a little more bearable.

But sometimes, I just want to get behind the wheel and drive.

I'd head east until the road ran out.

Ronan Pioneer Days

The town of Ronan, Montana had their annual Pioneer Days this weekend. My family has managed to miss the festivities every year they have been in Montana but Saturday changed that.

For a person raised on the Los Angeles County Fair, Pioneer Days was a little underwhelming. There was no Midway with a giant Ferris wheel and I didn't see one funnel cake or deep-fried Twinkie stand. There was livestock on display, local arts and crafts, a couple of tractors from the local John Deere dealer, a three-on-three basketball tournament and a lot of well worn cowboy boots. The highlight for me was the City Slicker Rodeo.

The City Slicker Rodeo had such PETA friendly events as the Calf Cash Chase and the Chicken Chase. One event had all of the children wearing identical shirts and hats on one side of the arena, their mothers on the other side, and a big pile of candy in the middle. The kids ran to grab as much candy as they could while the mothers tried to grab their own children.

Mayhem.

Abigail, Anya, and Bella pose in front of a livestock pen.

Grandpa and Aidan propping up a tractor and hay roller.

You've got to start them young.

No Grandpa, this is the radiator.

Aidan is focused on his prey during the Chicken Chase.

Chickens change direction like NFL running backs.

Judy caught a chicken for Logan. "Rex" later died of exhaustion.

Abigail's age group kicked up a lot of dust during their Chicken Chase.

Two tired kids in their new cowboy hats.

Down Home Cookin'

California has many things. High unemployment, crushing taxes, a large non-English speaking population, sunshine, beaches, traffic, smog, and plenty of good places to eat. What California doesn't have is Cracker Barrel.

If you've travelled around the country at all you've probably seen the brown and yellow sign of Cracker Barrel. If you were smart, you stopped for a meal. For those who have never been, Cracker Barrel serves traditional American food in a country style setting.

Cracker Barrel restaurants have a wide front porch with rocking chairs waiting for a weary traveller to sit upon and perhaps purchase for a modest sum. The waiting area is a mock general store with traditional candies, clothing and country kitsch. The interior of the restaurant is festooned with Americana.

What the Hard Rock Cafe is to rock and roll, Cracker Barrel is to rural America.

The whole thing is hopelessly cheesy and contrived.

I love it.

The menu at Cracker Barrel includes such favorites as pot roast, meatloaf, pork chops, and chicken pot pie. It's good ole fashioned stick to your ribs food. There are no wood fired pizzas or calamari appetizers on the Cracker Barrel menu.

I've only been to a Cracker Barrel twice. The first time was in St. George, Utah. I wanted a change from the ubiquitous Wendy's or McDonald's. I ordered pot roast with veggies.

It was good.

The most recent visit was on our drive to Montana this week. We stopped at the Cracker Barrel in Layton, Utah for lunch. I ordered buttermilk pancakes and sausage. For lunch.

It was so good. The pancakes were crisp around the edges and steaming hot. I could feel my arteries clogging with each bite. That's how you make pancakes.

Too bad I won't be able to go back for a while.