On Veteran's Day

Today is Veterans Day, a day set aside to honor all those who served in the armed forces on our nation's behalf. To each of them, I say a heartfelt thank you.

Thank you

Thank you

Inscription at the World War II Memorial

According to a report I heard on NPR this afternoon, each day 600 more World War II veterans die. As noted in the inscription above, we do have a solemn obligation to them, as well as every other veteran and active military person. We owe them our freedom, we owe them our highest regard. We owe them our thanks.

Go watch "Band of Brothers" or "Taking Chance." Read "Final Salute" by Jim Sheeler. Thank that active duty soldier you see this week. Pay for his or her meal. Tell them thank you.

Inside Voice

Wise counsel

If you've spent any time here in the Den, or any time with me for that matter, you know that it is my wont to to say what's on my mind, because apparently I'm opinionated. I may say something that you know every one else is thinking, but just won't say it. This annoyance quirk was particularly vexing to my late father. He used words beautifully and with great effect and he had a wonderful talent to measure what he said. Suffice to say, this is a trait that I did not get from him.

Admittedly, I have worked on this (no, really, I have) and I think I'm far better at measuring what I say than I was when I was, for instance, a teenager. For those of you who knew me then, once again, I'm sorry. Seriously.

That said, even today, there are times when I like to think I'm saying something using my inside, or inner, voice, rather than my outside voice. Far too often, I may have thought I was using my inside voice, when in fact I've used that pesky outside voice. You know that feeling, or maybe you don't (and if you don't, good for you), when you realize you just said OUT LOUD what you were thinking. That very scenario played out for me today in our adult Sunday School class. A comment was made about the NSA already knowing everything we were doing and out of nowhere I made a comment that 1) I don't even remember specifically now and B) I thought I was using my inside voice about the Church and the NSA. Based on the immediate groans, shaking heads and fairly robust nervous laughter around me from the class, it was clear I'd used my outside voice. And that's what I essentially said as a follow up, "Wait...did I use my outside voice?" Yes, yes I did. Ouch. A member of the class afterwards said to me I could have said much worse. She had a point, but then again she and I share the same feelings (none of which are good) about Fox News and its ilk. See, there I go again.

Clearly, I've got a way to go as I make my way through this learning we call life. I'm just grateful, eternally so, that each day each one of us is presented with an opportunity to try again. Each day is an opportunity to be better than the day before. There is so much comfort in that knowledge for me. I'll take every day I can get to strive to be a better person because I'm going to need them.

"Go see if the temp is dead."

Earlier today at work there was a minor kerfuffle in the women's restroom. The restrooms have shower rooms attached and one of my co-workers grew panicky after the showers been running for a couple of hours. She was convinced someone had died in there but refused to check for fear someone really was dead. Turns out no one was dead. It was just someone who felt compelled to leave all the showers running.

This reminded me of another work incident involving the restroom. Several years ago, while working in the greatest city in America, Chicago, I was in an office whose facilities were, well, less than desirable. The bathrooms were hideous. I've been in Port Authority cans that were more appealing than what we faced each and every work day. And you'd be disturbed, even repulsed, by what went on in there in addition to the normal things...like washing lettuce for salads, haircuts, and warming slow cookers. And sleeping off benders. Wait...what?

I was at my desk one afternoon when one of my colleagues burst into to my luxurious and semi-private cube and tersely intoned, "Dude, go see if the temp is dead!" He told me he'd just left the men's room and he was insistent that our mail room temp who was in the bathroom was dead. I was the only other male manager and he was adamant that I go see if said temp was dead. Hesitantly I made my way to a place that could normally be described as a crime scene to see if it now actually was one.

I walked in and could hear the muffled sounds of rap music coming from the handicapped stall. I'd been told that's where the temp could be found. The door to the stall was slightly ajar and with more than a little trepidation, I pushed it open. What greeted me haunts me even today. There he was - our temp, sitting on the 'throne,' pants around his ankles, splayed out for the world to see, with the sounds of gangsta' rap oozing from his earbuds. He was out cold. The very soft snoring was proof enough for me that he wasn't dead. With more than a little relief, I left Sleeping Beauty on his perch and backed out of his 'sanctuary.'

I'm not sure when he came to but he did. He repeated this napping activity a few days later and he was then invited to find work elsewhere. I'm not sure what became of him but I can only hope he found a better place to rest. I give him props for taking the word 'restroom' literally. Also, I've never been more disturbed in all my life. Thanks, temp.

Traditions

despair.com nails it every time

Fall is a beautiful time of year but it is not without its dangers. The biggest is that Fall is the gateway to the trifecta of American consumerism - Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmukahwanzaa (that's Christmas, Hannukah, and Kwanzaa, for the uninitiated). These three events are responsible for more drama than just one afternoon with the Skanks of the Apocalypse, the Family (and I use that word loosely) Kardashian.

There are lots of reasons for all the drama and much of that comes from the traditions associated with these big events. At their core, traditions are not a bad thing, as they are something, whether a belief, custom, or practice, that are handed down generation to generation. Unless your family tradition is to re-enact the marriage ceremony between Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley at family reunions or wearing matching 'heartwarming' holiday sweaters as a couple to the family holiday party is seen as awesome, I'm not going to quibble with your traditions. Probably.

With Halloween just passed, I've been giving the traditions in our family some thought. Both of my daughters, Our Lady of Awesome and CAL, honored their mother, the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML, by invoking some of the traditions they grew up. Like many other families, Halloween for us meant a big pot of chili, cornbread, and some kind of pumpkin goodness for dessert. This year, thousands of miles away from us, both girls did their version of our family tradition. The Awesomes had family over and enjoyed white bean chili. CAL cooked up chili, cornbread, and pumpkin dessert for her roommates and friends. It was, dare I say it, touching to see my girls, grown up and living their lives, calling on the traditions they had grown up with and rolling them out in their lives. Chili and cornbread on Halloween is a simple thing and a tradition in our house, but aren't the life's greatest pleasures the simplest ones?

Yeah, give me the simple traditions and simple things of life, please. I'm looking forward to watching how our traditions play out as our children continue to make life their own.