Death, dying, and killing me

Sunday morning was the day I dreaded for about a month now.

It started Christmas Eve with the first sign.

It was simply a matter of how long could he be kept alive. We're talking heroic efforts here. Late nights, lots of cursing at the powers-that-be, a few beers while tending to needs. The stuff that you really don't want to do, but know you should.

We get attached don't we? I mean all the time we spend, the investment of ourselves to something we know is fleeting and could be gone at a moments notice. It's always inevitable. We know it will happen eventually. All things come to an end. Some quietly, some with wailing.

But this time, it would be a long, drawn-out affair with gnashing of teeth and a family in upheaval for at least at least a month, maybe longer.

Saturday night was the night to pull the plug. I hated to do it, but it was simply time. If there was any further hope of resuscitation, we would know soon. It could be just a coma or some deep level of unconsciousness, but Sunday would tell.

Have you missed out on the finer moments of despair?

You know the ones.

Flatline.

Asystole.

Injuries not compatible with life.

We use other cynical aphorisms that belie our jaded outlook on life.

DRT is one of the things I used to hear in the ER. DEAD RIGHT THERE. A very cold callous way of viewing something that means so much to so many.

CTD (Circling the Drain) was another one. And I had been witnessing the maelstrom for a month already.

The first tell-tale sign happened while I was editing some photos on Christmas eve.

I got the first Blue Screen (or should that be Scream?) Of Death (BSOD).


One of the central figures in our family, the nexus of our living room, the computer DIED.

The OS drive was the least of my concerns. I've re-formatted and loaded Winblows enough to know that the Operating System should be on it's own drive by itself. The other three, however, were of paramount importance.

I had removed and de-activated a lot of software. Cleaned the registry as much as possible. Tweaked the memory and a few other things. But priority was backups and selectively purchasing upgrades such as new and more RAM, faster Processor, and up-to-date motherboard.

I turned the whole thing off Saturday night when I couldn't process the 320-ish shots from the day and decided I would just see what it did the next morning.

Well, CHKDSK found more corrupted files than otherwise, based on the amount of scrolling on the screen.

My afternoon was spent tearing it down, discovering one of my 320GB SATA drives was really a 320GB IDE - off to the big box store to get a twin for the SATA drive. While I was there I got a new CPU cooler and a Thermaltake Hot-swappable SATA drive bay (really cool for backups). Since I have two SATA drives with 10K+ pics and other files on them, I decided I would keep them as backups and store them in the safe, bringing them out one at a time for backups.

And staying up until 0130hrs Monday morning trying to get it to work (unsuccessfully, btw). Actually I got XP loaded onto the IDE drive and updated, but it's not what I wanted. WHAT A PITA!!!!!

That means getting two more SATA drives for the mirrored array I want to build for internal picture access (can you have [i]too[/i] many backups?).

And finding a 1.44 floppy disk (I actually have an old drive) to load the RAID drivers for Winblows.

The 320GB IDE drive will eventually house Winblows 7 64-bit beta as a dual-boot system so I can play with that and see how it works. I refuse to use Vista for anything related to workflow.

So now I have a functioning PC with none of my pics on it. I haven't found the Outlook file containing all my e-mail from the past umpteen years, but I know it is hiding on that old 80GB drive somewhere. I haven't put any software other than Office back on it, and that only because the kids have reports due Friday.

There's a stack of drives with files waiting to be transferred. I've downloaded all the latest drivers and updates for everything to go in there. I'm burning a CD so I have them all in two places.

I should have everything up & running by the end of the night tomorrow. Lord willing. Cause I have a date night with my wonderful wife Thursday, and I'm leaving town Friday afternoon for a Sporting Clays tournament.

I just want to know one thing.

When did I start grieving technology?

You know you live in the Bible Belt when . . .

We picked up pizza on the way home Saturday evening. It had been a long afternoon at a Raku pottery firing for my daughter's ongoing pottery class. We provided some horsehair and the photographic documentation for the afternoon.

When we got home and the pizza was doled out to the ravenous wolves, er, I mean kids, the boys started laughing at something. I had no idea what it was, but being ever curious made them share.


This was the sticker on the pizza box.





It's nice to know my kids appreciate the humor in life.

It's official!

I'm an absolute techno-geek.

I have 2.1206 TB of storage space on 8 hard drives for my home PC (OK, so two of them are brand new and aren't yet installed, but neither is the new motherboard or RAM or Processor).

That doesn't count the laptop . . . or the HD's in the attic that I'll never use again . . . or the portable 80GB HD at the office.

Of course, I count the office server as partial backup since every picture I take for work gets stored there (RAID 5) and on my office PC HD and my 80GB backup. So, in theory that gives me something to the effect of . . .

HOLY SMOKE!!!!

Over 4 TB of storage space.

I'm tired

There are a few folks out there who will likely disagree with what I write here. There will be those who simply think it's sad that my brain and heart work this way. There will be those who take offense to it. There will be those who throw out virtual atta-boys or send me private notes saying "Thank you" or "F--- you" or any other number of things.

You know what? So be it.

I have no idea what the new American President said today.

You know why?

Perhaps it's because I sat at the desk all day doing something I hated while many of my acquaintances had the leisure to watch the festivities in D.C.

Wrong.

Perhaps it's because he's a Democrat?

Wrong.

Maybe it's because today's news is tomorrow's history and in a few hundred years nobody will notice (who was the only Protestant American President who lived a life that was mostly devoted to the work of God when he wasn't in office, anyways? - few people know that one off the top of their heads) or remember who Barack Obama even was, never mind that he was an American President.

Wrong. Well, maybe only partly on that one :)

Perhaps it's because of any other number of inane things that everyone else thinks is important or newsworthy.

Again, wrong.

It comes down to this.

I don't care.

Really, I don't. I have absolutely no intention of reading today's speech or any others for a long time to come (I mostly read about dead people and I don't think he'll be dead for a long while). Geez! I'm just getting around to reading about Andrew Jackson, so I have a very long way to go to learn about modern American politics, right?

I'm tired of hearing about politics.

YEP. On the most historic day (to date) in American politics in the 21st century, you say?

ABSO-FREAKIN'-LUTELY!

You know why?

Cause I could care less.

I mean really, I'm about as apolitical as it gets. I know, I made some mistakes along the way and volunteered in college for a particular politician. God's long-since forgiven me for that one, I'm certain. I even voted once (back in 1988, cause the experience was new - and I really wanted to digress here, but I restrained myself), but I wrote in names like Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse. No, I'm not kidding.

I've never cast a vote that matters in American politics. I don't intend to start anytime soon (soon being measured in decades, not nano-seconds).

You see, I've never met anyone who could convince me Biblically, theologically, rationally, and/or otherwise that doing so was a requisite to being what I consider the most important thing I am on this earth.

Christian.

Just because I live in "the land of the free" doesn't mean I HAVE to vote. It simply means I can if I so choose. It's kind of like eating at fast food restaurants. I have every facility available to me to make it so that I can eat there, but I choose not to because I prefer to give my money to local restauranteurs as well as eat a helluva lot healthier than any fast food joint allows.

You see, Christianity tells me to "render to Caesar that which is Caesar's", but it never tells me to participate in Caesar's optional processes - only those which are mandated by those Jehovah has placed over us. Voting, well, it just can't be found in the Bible as a mandate.

I'm not a formal theologian. I'm a purchasing agent who loves photography almost as much as I enjoy theology. I got my bachelor's degree is in Religion because I thought it was the only major I would definitely use the rest of my life. So far, that's holding true (something like six careers later!!!!!).

Part of me gets seriously pissed when I see Christian Pastors touting political agendas. Part of me gets pissed when I see any "Christian" tout any political agenda. Not because I don't believe God can't (or won't) work through politics - he obviously does or we wouldn't have governments in the first place. It's because, as Christians, our primary responsibility isn't to make a change in the political face of our country. It's our country, not our home.

Not that pressing for change is bad, because it's not. As believers, I think we should be pressing for change in many arenas. I just think we should be seen more and heard more in arenas other than politics. I think we should be the prophetic voice of Jehovah calling out in the wilderness that says, "Prepare the way of Jehovah!"

Mostly in the arenas where Christ himself sends us (and I just don't see any politicians in the New Testament - maybe I'm still blinded to that, I don't know) - to the poor, the outcast, the downtrodden, the prisoners, the rich who can't see their need because of all the shiny junk they've accumulated, the blind, et al & et cetera.

You see, I don't think any politician can bring about the change that I most hope for. I think it will only come by the work of the Holy Spirit in this world through the Kingdom of God. Yes, I believe He has already established His Kingdom through His Church, and to quote Rich Mullins, "What's scary about God is He didn't come up with any Plan B. He left the Church here and the Church is the only group of people and the only institution in the world that can make a change . . . The Church was chosen by God to make a difference." He goes on to talk about politicians and educational systems and such before reminding us yet again that it's not by the powers of this world that God brings about change. It's more likely to be despite the powers of this world.

I see no place in modern American politics for the Church. We as individual believers should live out our Christianity as examples of what it's like to be godly. Mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, pastors, purchasing agents, photographers, scientists, doctors, students, technicians, customer service representatives, children.

Hmm. Children. Now there's a thought.

So those of you who are Christian and read this, I challenge you - Rethink your political position. Better yet, give up your political position. Care for the orphans and the widows. Be the best ________________ you can be for the glory of God, whether it be any of those listed above or any other profession (and I don't believe the founding fathers intended for politician to be a profession, rather a duty when chosen by the people (yet again, I digress despite my pitiful self-restraint). Put yourself to the task of answering God's call in your life. You have one or you wouldn't be Christian.

And no, the call of God ain't just to "full-time Christian minstry" as a profession.  If God called you, it's not to make you comfortable in your belief or your middle-class home with 3.23 kids and the sticker on your vehicle (just why is it people have to put a cross on the minivan and then put the dog, two cats and the goldfish on there anyway?). It's not so you can sit back on your laurels and spout your political position from the pulpits or the papers or the web.

It's so you can serve Him and glorify Him.

Pure Fiction - not my life, just an exercise in imagination

The golden eye of morning glared at me as I trudged up the steps onto the main thoroughfare of town. The day was just cool enough to warrant a jacket over the short sleeves, but I could have cared less. It could have been -30C for all I knew or cared. I was as oblivious to the temperature as I was to the sunlight or the traffic. The wind blew lightly, twisting the steam from my coffee into what I once thought of as captivating twirls and dances of steam - wonderful sights, but not today. Not for many todays.

The entire world seemed gray and dreary in my eyes, no matter the environment. It had for months now, and I had no hope of finding joy in sunlight or temperature or much else around me. This town had become suddenly lonely and foreign to me, despite spending over 40 years exploring every part of it with my camera or my bike or my running shoes. I knew all the back alleyways, quiet coffee shops, quaint artists' shops and all shortcuts to avoid traffic, desipite not getting behind the wheel lately.

I moved into the downtown condo almost three years earlier and settled into a routine of walking around downtown every morning despite the weather. I had nothing else to do with my time and no energy or desire to do much of anything whether it be photograph, cycle, run or work. It all seemed pointless, inane.

I didn't need the income from a normal J-O-B so I had just up and walked away from my wonderful little boring finance job, thinking I would just sell stock photography for fun and a little play money. I put the camera down one day and hadn't picked it up is months, maybe closer to two years by now.

The morning routine had just happened. I woke up one morning and found myself doing the exact same thing. It crept up on me gradually, but with authority. Roll over to look at the clock and it always said 4:57 - I could sleep until 10 as a kid; but had been getting up before the sun for what seemed like forever. Go to the kitchen. Start coffee. Go back to the bedroom and dig out some clothes; jump in the shower; shave, dress and pour my morning ritual into the mug.

That mug. The one that I cherished and yet despised. It reminded me of far too much of what was no longer present in my life. I didn't want to use it for fear of breaking it, but I couldn't not use it because it was so precious. It was one of the few things that reminded me of my past. Of my shattered life and the reason I fled my bucolic countryside home for the urbanity again. The quiet had gotten to me quickly out there. I always thought I could just listen to the birds and the wind and the crackling of the fireplace forever; but I quickly turned it all off and just sat staring at the trees with a glass that kept emptying itself into my bloodstream. I thought about going hiking on the Sierra Nevada trail or up in Alaska for a few months, but I simply never got around to it.

So, here I was, walking down the street of my own hometown with my precious, despised, handmade coffee mug full of twirls and dances and I have no desire to follow my normal routine. I need something new.

I needed to get away and DO SOMETHING!!!!

The question was, "What?"

I'm a shooter

Yes, you read that title correctly. I suppose this post comes as a response to a college friend asking me if the National Ammo Day post was a joke. Clearly not.

I shoot.

Guns.

The picture above is taken from the mfg's website and is the current top of my lust list. In 10mm.

As long as I can remember, I've been a shooter. BB guns (nobody got their eye put out!), .177 caliber air rifles and .22LR's were the standard of the day. My first experience with anything of significant power was when I was 10 yrs old. My father, an uncle or twenty and my great-grandfather were at my great-grandparents' house in the country and they were going to do some shooting. Perfectly normal, common activity in the South, in that area, and especially in my family.

I was a scrawny kid. When I graduated high school I weighed 150-ish soaking wet and was 6'2" so you can imagine what I was at the ripe old age of ten. Split rail skinny.

My family is the typical Southern family. They are gentle and kindhearted, but mischievous as the day is long. My great-grandfather probably passed that trait down through his DNA, because he always seemed to have a $h!t-eating grin on his face every time I saw him. He developed a love for the outdoors, hunting, Red Setters, horses, family and fun in nearly all of his kids, grandkids, and greats. I was the last of the great-grandkids he taught to shoot.

The guns for the afternoon were the typical ones in the family. It was early Fall, before Thanksgiving and the opening of quail season. That meant shotguns needed to be put through their paces to make certain they were still in good working order after spending the Summer in their cases and stories needed to be told about past hunts. I learned that even in his 70's my great-grandfather could drag himself and several others all over his little corner of Laurens County after quail, covering an easy 10-12 miles during the day. We stopped seldom for food or drink. If we were hungry, we quickly learned to bring our own snacks in our coat pockets and there were always plenty of water sources close by until we could make our way to Tab's for an RC and a Moon Pie or a Pepsi with peanuts dropped in it - no! I'm not making that part up.

My Dad's shotgun of choice was a J.C. Higgins 12 gauge bolt-action 28" barreled monstrosity that had a full choke. Being that it was my Father's, I had to shoot that one. Remember, split-rail skinny.

My great-grandfather suggested I aim for a cluster of pine cones up in the top of one of the trees and see if I could hit them. Actually, he suggested I take the one on the left out and leave the other two intact. I think I looked at him in utter awe thinking if he really wanted me to do that, then by gosh that's what I was gonna do!

Needless to say, I nearly had to pick myself up off the ground and I found out why he always told me to stay out from behind his red stallion. I thought I had been kicked by a horse!

The first word I remember hearing from him was not, "Are you OK?"

It was, "Well, $h!t! He hit the one on the left! The other two are still there".

I started saving that day for my very own shotgun and bought a 20-gauge single shot the following Spring. It and my father's bolt-action mechanical horse-hoof reside under my roof today.

What have I done?????

I'm fairly technologically savvy. I build my own computers from the ground up. I add components to a laptop without thinking twice about it. I know my cameras and my software. I have broadband at the house, and a cell phone (dammit!) and a wireless network. I mean, really, I have even setup a VPN for the house and the church. I'm not technologically inept. I converted to digital photography before it became too onerous to shoot film, adapting early and quickly and enjoying it along the way.

I understand how addictive it can be - this technology upon which we've come to rely. I'm not addicted to it, just usually very obsessed and some obsessions last much longer than others. Diesels are one of them. Photography is another. I enjoy my truck, probably far too much - but hey, it gets 22mpg and can haul my house if I want it to. I love photography - enough that I could take a camera and disappear for weeks on end and never sell a single photo - and be fine with that! I know my way around Photoshop and now Lightroom just so I can keep my stuff organized and looking the way I want them to look.

I'm fairly well connected with people with whom I'm close. I mean really close - my immediate family, my church, my close friends (people that I see and have dinner with more than once every 5 years), and my co-workers. These are the people that surround me in daily life. The ones with whom I commune.

I e-mail; I use the cell phone; I leave voice messages and occasionally text (GAH!); and I try to have lunch at least once a week with someone I consider a close friend or family member. I even tried to connect with my uncle and my brother today, on a whim that didn't pan out, but ended up hangin' with a buddy from the office on an errand to just connect about our lives.

I'm not a social butterfly. I'm not the life of the party. I'm very introverted and cautious. I just received a report back from an assessment I took for the office that pegged me as a flat 0% for "gregariousness". Out of the 2+ MILLION people who've taken this, 100% scored higher than me on their inclination to be social. Yep, that's me. Everything else is learned behavior. REALLY!!! It is. I promise!

I read blogs every weekday and most weekends. I love Google Reader since it sticks them all in one place and constantly refreshes. No slogging through 100+ pages of medical interest, photographic, friends, complete strangers and even just plain fun stuff.

But this weekend came the fateful, dreaded, curs-ed invite.

We all know the one. It's the one that absolutely sucks time completely out of our lives. We awake semi-comatose from too little sleep and too much caffeine (or wine) and we attempt to function productively at our J-O-Bs in a vain effort to pretend we can be everything to everyone.

I should've known if for no other reason than the person who sent me that curs-ed e-mail. He's one of the highest energy people I've ever met and I had the pleasure of becoming great friends with him in the early 90's. He moved out West.

I stayed close to home, even moved away from the city into a fairly rural lifestyle where I have to cut, haul, and split my own firewood without too much benefit of "modern technology". Mauls, wedges, and now fiberglass handles. Dirt floors in the workshop and the stable (no there are no aminals, nor will there be anytime soon!); surrounded by woods with creeks running through them where the kids play and grow; little pond where I can cast my fly-line when I have the urge; and peace and quiet.

He and I have lost contact, as much from the distance as from all the above-mentioned clutter in my life - I can't speak for his.

I read real books. Augustine, Calvin, Barth, Dagg, Cussler, Shaw, - biographies, theology, fiction, absolute crap (Shaw), and glorious tomes that I want to memorize but never find the time or the discipline to accomplish. I despise TV - OK, maybe not completely, but enough to avoid it during American football season and most evenings when CSI or The Unit are on. I try to spend time with the kids, or workin with the lathe or the camera, or remodeling a bathroom or a kitchen, or adding a filtration system to the well (but not messing with the well pump - that's bad news). I wake early and go to bed late, filling my day with all sorts of things that keep me busier than I should be already.

Now, I've gone and done the un-thinkable. And I have to tell my wife, because she's going to start noticing all the things that no longer get accomplished around the house.

I've gone and answered the invite.

It's a very good thing the filters at the office don't let the site through, because I would never get anything accomplished.

I joined Facebook.

dammit!