Gimme Shelter

I have not left my house in 5 days. I started working from home on Monday, which has been sort of a surreal experience. Getting up and getting ready for work when you don’t have to leave the house is actually more difficult. It feels like there is less motivation to get out of bed knowing that the office is just down the stairs. I can say it is an experience that I have not enjoyed all that much.

It is more difficult to get things done, as I cannot print documents at home due to the nature of my work. Having to look up information and then minimize windows on the computer to go back and forth from one screen to the other is tedious. I am working with dual monitors. However, it still slows things down when you have to drag something from one monitor to the other.

I always kind of dreamed about working from home, but now it just seems to be more of a nightmare. Despite these rather minor inconveniences, I feel quite fortunate to still be employed. It seems as if the world is becoming more chaotic by the day. It is nice to know that I have a shelter from the storm.

I am thankful to have a home where I am able to work. Likewise, I feel fortunate that my family has remained healthy through this time. It has actually been a blessing in disguise that I have been able to be home, as my back has been bothering me for over a week now. Working from home gives me the flexibility to move around and get into a position to where the pain is not so bad.

I don’t know when I’ll actually emerge from my hermit-like state. Perhaps it will be this weekend. Maybe it will not be for another few weeks. We are stocked up on food and other supplies. It has been nice that the pace of life has slowed a little. There is definitely more time to spend with family.

The silence here was almost deafening today. That is one of the greatest gifts that this situation has bestowed upon the world. Things around us seem to be more quiet. That makes it easier to focus on the spiritual aspects of life. Plus, it is just nice to be able to step away from daily routines.

If you are stuck at home send me a message and let me know what kinds of things you are doing to pass the time. I know that I have readers from other countries. If you live outside the United States let me know what life is like where you are. I’d really like to hear what you all have to say.

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America’s Game

One trivial, but nevertheless disappointing thing about the “social distancing” that has become a part of everyday life across the world, is that the start of the baseball season has been delayed. To me baseball is something that takes me back to simpler times. Days when I was a boy and summers were spent outdoors nearly from sunrise to sunset.

It also brings back memories of my dad. He would often stop by the store on his way home from work and buy me a few packs of baseball cards. The best part was opening those packs to see what kinds of treasures they contained. Plus, there was always that rock hard stick of gum that tasted like cardboard! I still have all of those cards packed away safely in a big, plastic tub in our basement. There are a few cards that are worth something, I am sure, but I’ll probably never sell my collection. It holds precious memories. I’ll hopefully be able to pass it down to someone else some day.

It always brightens my day to hear baseball return to the radio after a long, cold winter. It is a reminder that spring will soon be here. Days will start to get longer, and the temperatures will begin to rise. This year there has been no baseball. There hasn’t been that reassurance that spring is on its way. However, I know that it is.

In a few short months, baseball will be back in full swing. The Chicago Cubs will be back on the radio, and I will tune in to listen to Pat Hughes and Ron Coomer describe the play-by-play from Wrigley Field. This season will be more special as I will be able to introduce Baby Boy to the magical game. In fact, just today, Amanda, who is a St. Louis Cardinals fan, graciously presented Baby Boy with his first Cubs hat.

Perhaps by midseason it will fit him. Likewise, we might just have to bring those baseball cards up out of the basement and I can tell him about the greats of the game when I was a boy, such as Ryne Sandberg, Ozzie Smith, Ken Griffey Jr., Ricky Henderson, and Greg Maddux.

Baseball is a sport that still captures my imagination, especially when I hear it on the radio. There is nothing better when your team is down by a run in the bottom of the ninth inning, and your favorite hitter comes to the plate. There is one man on first, the count is full, and you hear the crack of the bat and the announcers erupt when the ball lands in the center field bleachers. This drama is what makes the game so magical. With one swing of the bat, the game can change in an instant.

Stay safe as we all wait patiently for this global pandemic to pass. Spring is on its way. Baseball will be back and all will be right with the world once again. Let’s go Cubs!

Baby Boy has some growing to do before the Boys of Summer return.

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43

On Friday I turned 43 years old. Amanda made me one of my favorite kind of cakes using a recipe handed down through my family. We then had a nice dinner and spent a quiet evening at home with Baby Boy. It was a good day to celebrate the blessings that life has brought. However, it was also a day to remember a lost loved one.

March 13, 1989 was the day I turned 12 years old. It should have been a carefree day to celebrate getting older. Sadly, that was not the case. For you see, my dad had recently been diagnosed with myelofibrosis, a rare cancer of the bone marrow. On my 12th birthday my dad started treatments that were meant to try and stop the progression of the disese.

I still remember him waking me up that morning and wishing me a happy birthday, hugging me, and letting me know that he was sorry all of this was happening on my birthday. It certainly was not what either of us wanted, but that is often how life is. At times there is heartbreak.

My dad would not live to see me turn 13. The disease, with which he had been diagnosed, rapidly progressed into acute myeloid leukemia. This is what ultimately took his life on September 2, 1989. This was all too much for a 12 year old to process, which is probably why I still do not react to change very well in my life.

When I was born I know my dad was concerned with how I was going to make it in life. At that time people with disabilities were often marginalized, which still happens today. However, I think those who are disabled have begun to make progress. Many disabled people are employed, are married, and have families. I’d like to be able to speak with my dad today and let him know I have made it. His worry about me was for nothing.

My dad was 43 when he passed away. Now that I have reached that age myself, I see things from such a different perspective. I still feel like a kid in many respects. There is so much more living to do. My dad missed out on so many events in the lives of his wife and children. I still feel cheated that he was not there for graduations, weddings, and other important milestones. Despite this, life is too short to be bitter.

I don’t believe, nor have I ever believed that my dad is watching over us from some spiritual realm. However, I do believe when he died his soul went to Heaven. This is a place where there is no sorrow.

Therefore, he is not looking down on us and seeing the things with which we are struggling here on Earth. He is celebrating in a place where there is no pain. It brings comfort to me knowing he was able to leave his physical existence that was filled with agony. He had a short life here on earth, but his life in eternity is so much sweeter.

I hopefully have a lot of life left to live here on Earth, but I look forward someday to joining my father in that place where there is no sorrow. I just hope there is cake too!

My dad in his senior yearbook photo
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Rolled Up In Fear

Today I went to the store to purchase some toilet paper because were we nearly out. I did not do it out of fear that we were going to be quarantined for a few weeks. However, I would love to stay in my house for two weeks without leaving. There is a stack of books next to the bed that I need to start reading.

While I was in the store it reminded me of the days after the 2001 terrorist attacks here in the U.S. After those events, people lined up at gas stations waiting to be gouged for a few gallons of gas. It was fear of the unknown that caused people to act in irrational ways, much like it is today.

Why are we hoarding toilet paper in preparation for a virus that doesn’t appear to cause diarrhea? Shouldn’t we all be buying facial tissue instead? After all it is a respiratory virus that is circling the globe.

It was kind of alarming to see store shelves picked clean of all sorts of products. It was like being a part of a disaster film where everyone is awaiting some inevitable doom.

I am not trying to make light of what could potentially become a very serious problem. However, I just find human behavior very interesting in situations such as this. It is fascinating to see how organizations such as the NBA, MLB, and the NCAA are willing to sacrifice millions of dollars by cancelling or postponing major sporting events.

I pray that things do not get so far out of hand that we begin to turn on each other. If you see someone in need share what you have. If major sports leagues are willing to lose millions, we can all spare a roll or two of toilet paper to help a neighbor.

Don’t let fear of the unknown rule your behavior. If you are stuck in your house for a week or two, do something worthwhile. If nothing else, at least build a tower out of the cardboard tubes from all of those spent rolls of toilet paper that you inevitably will have.

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The Power of Words

I have had a lot of people say very ignorant things to me throughout my life. Some of those things have been addressed in previous blog posts. Sometimes, I think it is just a matter of people not knowing exactly what to say. Other times I think it may be a case where people are truly ignorant.

I work with the public in the job that I do. Often people ask me what is “wrong with me” when they see my crutches. It is those times when I feel like I could give them a laundry list of things that are “wrong with me.” For instance, I am short, slightly balding, and I could stand to lose several pounds. However, I usually just explain to them that I was born with spina bifida, which has led to some paralysis in my lower extremities. That usually is enough to satisfy the curiosity seekers.

In addition to the questions and comments that I get about my physical disability, I often hear other remarks that are ignorant. For instance, I spoke to a lady the other day over the phone who was questioning some information she received from another person in our agency.

The information she received was incorrect. When I told her this, she responded, “Well, he sounded like a black gentleman who was new, so I wasn’t sure I could trust him.” I was able to maintain my composure, however, I just wanted to say, “What does anyone’s skin color have to do with their intelligence, or whether or not you should trust them?” I also wanted to tell her just how ignorant she sounded.

We should all treat others the way we would like to be treated. I generally don’t mind when people ask me about my disability. I just feel doing it in a more tactful way would be nice. It is okay for people to be curious. However, it is not okay for people to be rude.

Likewise, I understand we all grew up differently. Our experiences often help shape us into the people we become. You may have different ideas and opinions than I do. This is perfectly okay. However, that doesn’t mean we should not be civil to one another.

It does not hurt to stop and think before speaking. There is a quote that is often attributed to Abraham Lincoln which says, “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt.” Words can either be a blessing to someone or they can be hurtful. Choose your words carefully so that they might be a blessing.

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Huh, What Was That?

Amanda and I have spent the last hour whispering to each other. No, they haven’t been the whispers of sweet nothings. They have been the whispers of weary foster parents. You see Baby Boy has been asleep for the last few hours. We have been trying to stretch out his feeding times. When he is hungry he lets us know it by screaming at the top of his lungs.

Therefore, we have eaten dinner tonight in whispered conversation. This is a miracle in and of itself because we both have problems hearing when we are using our normal speaking voices. We have had conversations about the day’s events. Likewise, we have even whispered to each other about the movie Top Gun.

We have been trying to recall the names of the main characters. We have recalled that there was a “Goose” and a “Maverick,” but we don’t recall any of the others. If you do, drop me a line in the comments below.

Really, the only thing I have wanted to do for the last hour is break out into song, particularly the theme song to Top Gun. Kenny Loggins wrote some great theme songs to movies of the 80’s.

I guess I’ll just have to hum them silently to myself until Baby Boy wakes up. Then the real fun can begin. It will be a bottle for Baby Boy while I sing “Highway to the Danger Zone” to him. What is your favorite Kenny Loggins theme song?

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“Those Things“

Some of the conversations I have with others can be amusing. I suppose I should find them offensive. However, I am a very politically incorrect person myself. That should be apparent to those who follow this blog. After all what disabled person would refer to themselves as “crippled?”

Just a couple of weeks ago I was at the gas station filling up before heading out on a road trip. One of the attendants approached me and said, “Hey, I have been on those things before.” Having had many such conversations in the past, I instantly knew he was referring to my crutches. This gentleman proceeded to recount his experiences of walking with “those things” after turning his hip bone into “powder” as a result of an automobile accident he had been in as a young man.

This man was kind and polite, however, I wonder if he realized that my crutches are more than just “things” to me. They are essentially an extension of my being. They serve as my legs. Likewise, they often operate as hands. I use them to grab things that are often out of reach of my normal wingspan.

I did not find this man’s comments hurtful or disrespectful, as he was just trying to make conversation. However, his experiences with “those things” are far diffent from my own. My use of them is not temporary. I have walked with crutches for over 30 years. God willing, I will walk with them for at least 30 more. They will never just be “things” to me. Are your legs just “things” to you?

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‘Twas the Morning Before Presidents’ Day

‘Twas the morning before Presidents Day, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a baby.
The bags were all packed by Amanda and Ryan with care in hopes that breakfast would soon be there.

Baby Boy was nestled all snug in his bassinet while visions of creamy formula danced in his head. And mama in her pajamas and I in my sweatpants had just woken our brains for a long winter’s drive.

When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I moved like a turtle. Tore open the curtains and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

The moon on the breast of the brown, dormant grass gave absolutely no luster to the outdoor bins of trash below. When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a black SUV packed to the gills with Baby Boy’s gear.

When a tired old driver not very lively and certainly not very quick, I knew it must be Ryan.

As slow as a sloth his arms did move, and he whistled, and shouted, and he called them by name:

“Now Dan! Now Judith! Now Baby Boy! On, Amanda! On, Alice to the front door! into your cars, now drive away, drive away, drive away all.

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Paint Your Pets and Other Love Stories

Yesterday I met the love of my life. Well, it only seems like yesterday. However, it was actually 10 years ago yesterday. Amanda and I met for the first time on February 13, 2010. She was, and still is, a St. Louis girl. We were introduced through my cousin Brad, who was Amanda’s pastor at the time.

Our relationship began through late-night chats on Facebook, and then progressed to nightly phone calls that would last for several hours at a time. About a month after phone calls, texts, and Facebook messages we decided to meet face-to-face.

I decided I would travel to St. Louis from my home in Sterling, Illinois. It is approximately a 4-hour drive, so I had a long time to think about what our first meeting would be like. Would Amanda run and hide when she saw me for the first time? Would I be so nervous I would be unable to speak? These are some of the things that were racing through my mind as the miles began to melt away.

After a few hours I arrived at my cousin Brad’s house. This is where Amanda and I would meet for the first time. After settling in Amanda arrived at the door. Fortunately, she did not run away when she saw me. However, she thought about it as she heard me creak my way across the floor. I’ll never find work as a ninja, as my crutches squeak too much as I walk.

I think it helped that Amanda and I had spoken on the phone quite a bit before meeting for the first time, as it helped to make face-to-face conversation flow more effortlessly. Amanda and I had an easy time getting to know each other as we had lunch. We then went to the art museum, stopped for a cupcake at The Cup, a little shop that makes the best cupcakes ever! We then ended the night with The King’s Speech, a movie that we have since adopted as “our movie.” The next day we spent some time at the zoo. Simply put, it was a perfect weekend.

Amanda and I spent the next several months getting to know each other. I then asked her to marry me. Fortunately, she said yes, and we tied the knot on August 11, 2012. About a week later I started a new job in Northen Illinois and Amanda returned to St. Louis. For the first few months of our marriage Amanda and I only saw each other on the weekends. This was a very difficult situation, However, it only lasted until October when Amanda moved north to join me. In December 2012, we purchased our house and have added two cats to our lives since.

Amanda and I enjoyed being with each other that very first day, and we still enjoy being together. Today is Valentine’s Day, but we did not exchange gifts. However, we were together. That has been enough and will always be enough for each of us.

This morning we took a painting class together. We each painted a portrait of our cats, Dot and Cat. I chose Dot, and Amanda painted Cat. You can see the results below. I think I’ll hold on to my day job, as an artist I will never be.

Learning to live with another person was an adjustment for the both of us. I like organization. Amanda enjoys spreading her things throughout the house. This isn’t always easy for me. However, my stubborness is not something she always enjoys about me either. However, I can still say that Amanda is easy to be with. We laugh and we cry together. However, we are always together.

Being one has helped us adapt to our newest challenge, foster care. Since December 29th, we have been the proud foster parents of a sweet baby boy. He has transformed our lives. Sleep is hard to come by these days, but love is always there, even amongst the frustration of poopy diapers and midnight feedings.

We are now three, plus two cats. Love is never in short supply in our house. We are together and that is enough for all of us. Material things are good to have, and we have been blessed with far more than we deserve. However, time is the most important thing. Time is what allows us to create memories. Ten years of memories has made me a rich man. I am rich because I have a woman who loves me despite my faults.

Dot looks like a cross between a fox and an owl. Cat on the hand looks pretty good. Amanda is clearly the one with more artistic talent.

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The Fluid Trifecta

You know you have made it in the parenting world when your baby performs what I would call the “fluid trifecta.” Tonight Baby Boy hit that mark when he proceeded to not only pee, and poop, but also spit up all at the same time. Unfortunately, I was the unlucky recipient of this “liquid love.”

Amanda was the audience. Baby Boy and I were merely the players in this drama. Well, he was playing me, while I was just trying to shield myself from the barrage of bodily fluids. I feel as if I have now been “baptized” into the fold of fostering fatherhood.

Tomorrow is another day. I am sure it will bring new adventures, as each new day has since Baby Boy has become a part of our lives. Weekends are my time to respond to his night-time cries for a bottle. I will be sure to have my shields up against anything this little boy can sling at me.

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