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My brother sent these cards along to me yesterday, drawn by my nephew (6 years old) and niece (4). As I understand the procedure, the kids draw and/or write, the results are scanned, and then the scanned pics are fiddled with in Photoshop according to the wishes of the specific kid.



This one is by my nephew, and he's very aware of the cat situation at my place, i.e., that there are some. I believe the mouse is intended to be a gift to the cats for my birthday. The Photoshop filters used are his current favorites.

Natalie has chosen to write her birthday greetings to me, with translations by my brother. He swears these are word-for-word translations, and he's pretty sure that the "I hope you deserve something" in the lower right corner means she wants me to get presents and isn't some sort of judgment call on her part. William Munny would tell her "Deserve's got nothin' to do with it," but I still appreciate her intent.

Thanks, kiddos!

Labels: birthday, family

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My brother is two and a half years older than I am. While that means a lot of different things, one of the things it means is that he started getting mailings from the various Armed Forces a lot earlier than I did. Unfortunately for him, the Army was always offering him all these what I thought were neat things for him to request more information. A seventh grader thinks a pair of wristbands or a T-shirt is infinitely cooler than a high schooler thinks they are. So, since he could get these cool things for requesting more information and I couldn't, I would sometimes send the postcards back. In a few weeks, the bundle of more information would arrive at the house, along with whatever thing I thought was cool at the time.

What I did not understand at the time was that the arrival of the postcard at Army headquarters meant - to them - that my brother was interested in joining the Army. So, to follow up with the more information and the silly whatever, they would often call my brother. I remember him more than once saying on the phone, "Um, I'm sorry, but my brother actually sent that card in because he wanted the compass." I think he even made me tell them once.

Seriously, though, what else were they expecting to have happen? The whole point of them offering the pencils and hats and carabiners was to pique someone's interest and maybe hit on someone who thought, "okay, sure, why not?" and join up, all because of the little thing that got mailed along with the more info. I'm sure it happened all the time.

My brother never did join the army, and neither did I (I often considered it, but my fear of water kinda made that decision for me). I have long forgotten most of the Army-branded things we collected around the house, except for one: an Army flashlight.

It was cheaply rubberized and had a camouflage pattern, with a stark-white "ARMY" emblazoned on the handle. It was about six inches long, and there might have been a hole in the end of it to loop a cord through, I don't remember exactly.

Like most of the Army stuff we got, it was fairly cheaply made, but it did work. Two AA batteries would give it enough juice to light the tiny bulb. Make no mistake - this was no Maglite, this was a pathetic attempt at impressing kids. Sure it worked on me, but it was still pathetic.

I remember this flashlight so vividly because it was so poor. My room at night was pitch black. We lived out in the country, so there were no streetlights providing a soft glow through my windowshades. Lights out meant lights out. I kept this flashlight by my bed, and if I needed to get up during the night, I would use it to light my way to the door of my room and to the stairs. Only it wasn't a powerful enough flashlight to show me where the door was - seriously, this was a majorly poor flashlight. The only thing I could do was set out in the general direction of the door and point the flashlight at my feet. There was enough light to illuminate any obstacle that threatened to trip or maim me, even if I couldn't see the doorway. By adjusting each footfall, I was eventually able to reach my goal.

I'm not sure what eventually happened to the flashlight. I suspect it just fell apart one day of its own accord. I have a couple of new little flashlights now, both of them have bright LEDs in them, and they more than light up where I need to go. But I still occasionally remember that old Army flashlight.

A couple of years after the flashlight had shuffled off this mortal coil, I had occasion to speak on the 105th verse of Psalm 119: "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path." The verse made a whole lot more sense to me after having that flashlight - as long as I set out in the generally-right direction and took care to take carefully-illuminated singular footsteps, I'd eventually get to where I needed to be.

I still have problems setting long-term specific goals, but I like to think that I carefully consider each next step, and I'm ever hopeful that I'll end up where I'm supposed to.

Labels: family, life

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My mom and dad and another couple from their church headed to Branson, Missouri, last Saturday for a week of hanging out and going to shows.


For some of you, I could stop right there and the entry title would be fitting enough. I've never been, but it sounds like the sort of thing I probably wouldn't hate terribly - after all, my last few times at amusement parks I've enjoyed the shows more than the rides. Laugh if you must, but see me when you're my age and we'll see who's laughing then (hint: it will be me).


My mom called me on Monday night and said, "Are you sitting down?" and then proceeded to tell me my dad was in the hospital. He started feeling ill on Sunday morning and was admitted Sunday afternoon. They had taken X-rays and done a CAT scan, and had determined he had some intestinal blockage. There was some concern that he would need surgery, and apparently it's a rather nasty surgery with all kinds of recovery time - a real bummer when you're nine and a half hours from home. Over the course of the next few days they kept an eye on him and finally decided it was okay to release him back into the wild earlier today.


That first night when I was talking to Mom and then to Dad, and back to Mom again, she's relaying things to me that he's saying in the background, including something about how they're going to bury him in Branson - note: this is before the results of the CAT scan were in and anybody knew what was going on. Is it any wonder where I get my sense of humor?


Dad also made Mom and their friends leave the hospital and go see some shows. "They didn't come down here to sit in a hospital, after all," he said. My dad cracks me up.


So now he's out and about and they are planning to fit as many shows in in the next couple of days as they can before heading back to Wisconsin.


Many thanks to all of you who were praying for him. I appreciate it, and he wanted me to tell you that he and Mom appreciate it, too.


Here's one of my favorite pictures of Dad - there's something about the look on his face and the look on Tiger's face that is just absolutely perfect:

Labels: family

9 comments

My mom wrote me the other day and told me that my nephew, who started kindergarden this year at the same school his father and I both attended, got in trouble for talking in class without raising his hand.

Sounds kind of familiar...

Labels: family

4 comments

Today is my dad's 61st birthday. It's not likely you'll run into him, but if you do, wish him a happy birthday, won't you?

After his behavior on his 60th last year, I'm kind of wondering what he's got planned for today.

Happy birthday, Dad! I love you!

Labels: family

3 comments