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We have this thing in our family where we try to say the lyrics to a song we all know as if they were just part of a normal conversation. It's pretty fun.
For example, my wife and kids like to listen to 96.5. Pop radio. I'm really more of a Q102 or US97 or NPR guy myself. But, I hear a lot of 96.5. And the other day when we were driving home, in the most normal voice I could muster, I said "Val, I never meant to start a war. You know, I never meant to hurt you. Don't even know what we're fighting for. Why does love always feel like a battlefield?"
The kids have caught on. Mason, 6, particularly likes it. This morning he said "Dad, I've got a feeling that tonight's gonna be a good night. Tonight's gonna be a good, good night."
Then earlier, just moments after a Geico commercial, he said "Dad, I always feel like somebody's watching me."
Monday, September 28, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Happy Birthday Val!
I want to wish my wife a Happy 38th birthday today! If you met us together at a dinner party, which would never happen, she'd be the one by the one you'd be impressed by. I'd be the one staring at the forks.
She is funny and cool and not be messed with. She is probably the hardest worker I've ever known. At every job she has ever had, she outperforms everyone. She was the best cook at Hardee's; the best microfilmer at the microfilming place (I think that's what she did); the best CSM; the best department manager; and the best mom-- the kids wouldn't trade her for $1 million. Happy Birthday, Val! Here's to the best.
Monday, September 14, 2009
The wedding dance
I know I'm behind on this, but if you haven't seen the wedding dance video, you owe it to yourself to take a few minutes and watch it.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Check out "The Family"
Below is a link to a really interesting NPR piece about a book called The Family: The Secret Fundamentalism at the Heart of American Power, by author Jeff Sharlet.
The interview is about 20 minutes long, and I really thought the whole thing was fascinating. Click here for the link.
The interview is about 20 minutes long, and I really thought the whole thing was fascinating. Click here for the link.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Another Story of Scott
Twice my little newspaper has done stories about a local guy named Scott Carlstrom that I never saw coming. Both articles have been inspiring tales of one man's will to survive in the face of difficult odds. Both have been incomplete.
The stories written by Mert Seaton and our new editor Dale McCurry were both well written. I didn't have a problem with either one. However, any good story is connected to many others. Each of those is just like a feather in a bigger chicken.
While I am always interested in the bigger chicken, what I want to write about here is simply another feather.
My wife, Valerie, grew up in a house across the street from "Scottie" Carlstrom. By all accounts (my wife, my sister-in-law's, Scott's mother), Val never made his young life, which sounded already rather difficult, very easy. It's safe to say she was a bit of a prankster.
Ryan Scott Carlstrom, now 34, has always had bad lungs. You see, he was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis at the age of 6. Often, children with this genetic disease never make it to be adults. One hazard: they have to be careful of infections, for sure.
Val, who is nearly four years older than Scott, never cared too much about his situation. Not that she was heartless. She did what kids will do; she treated him like anyone else. With little abandon.
For example, as an occasional play-buddy, she said she once sold him "China dirt."
"But I sold lots of kids China dirt," she said.
As you might guess, my wife never went to China.
She said his parents hated her growing up. She was too old to be playing with Scott. She was too rough. And my wife said they would always keep an eye on her; tell on her any chance they got.
Last year, right around the time the first story ran in the Free Press, my wife and I stood in a voting line next to Scott's mother. She seemed tense around Valerie at first, but something about the years gone by had softened her. His mother talked to us both about Scott, his condition, and how mean my wife used to be-- always the tomboy, the trouble maker.
My wife, for her part, acknowledged her own reckless attitude. We all talked softly about Scott and his deteriorating condition; he was in my graduating class, and though he seemed short, skinny, and shy, I never knew how he struggled.
A few days later, while taking my kids over to my in-laws, Scott's father came up to me and shook my hand-- he wanted to thank me for Mert's article. I tried to explain that I had nothing to do with it, but he was thankful all the same.
In this issue, on page 19, our new editor reported the good news. Scott received his long-awaited double-lung transplant. He lived in St. Louis for months away from his wife, and family, and friends...waiting.
My wife told me that, as a child, she did feel sorry for Scott at times. Especially, after school. You see, she said Scott's dad would make him run everyday to strengthen his lungs. She said Scott would often look sad that he couldn't just play with the others.
According to cff.org, around 30,000 kids and adults have cystic fibrosis in America. Unfortunately, not everyone gets to live long enough to see a shot at the type of life-saving surgery Scott received.
Dale reported that Carlstrom said he felt he was within a couple of months of dying. His lung capacity had been as low as 17 percent of where it ought to be before the transplant. It's now said to be at 123 percent.
In the article, Scott said: "I now know that I was lucky to have had CF all my life. When people live the way I now do for 50 or 60 years and then are hit with a catastrophic disease, it must be terribly hard to adjust. That’s all I had known.”
While he has had two rejection incidents, it seems now that he is out of the woods. With a new pair of lungs, it appears Scott has the best part of his life in front of him.
His parents, who have dedicated their lives to the care of their oldest son, can hopefully enjoy what's remaining of their stories.
There's a lot of feathers out there. There's a lot of stories.
For now, what matters is Scott has a new lease on life. He's 34, and just beginning to live.
Get out there and live, my friend. Play in the dirt. Get outdoors and play, Scottie. It's time for you to play.
The stories written by Mert Seaton and our new editor Dale McCurry were both well written. I didn't have a problem with either one. However, any good story is connected to many others. Each of those is just like a feather in a bigger chicken.
While I am always interested in the bigger chicken, what I want to write about here is simply another feather.
My wife, Valerie, grew up in a house across the street from "Scottie" Carlstrom. By all accounts (my wife, my sister-in-law's, Scott's mother), Val never made his young life, which sounded already rather difficult, very easy. It's safe to say she was a bit of a prankster.
Ryan Scott Carlstrom, now 34, has always had bad lungs. You see, he was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis at the age of 6. Often, children with this genetic disease never make it to be adults. One hazard: they have to be careful of infections, for sure.
Val, who is nearly four years older than Scott, never cared too much about his situation. Not that she was heartless. She did what kids will do; she treated him like anyone else. With little abandon.
For example, as an occasional play-buddy, she said she once sold him "China dirt."
"But I sold lots of kids China dirt," she said.
As you might guess, my wife never went to China.
She said his parents hated her growing up. She was too old to be playing with Scott. She was too rough. And my wife said they would always keep an eye on her; tell on her any chance they got.
Last year, right around the time the first story ran in the Free Press, my wife and I stood in a voting line next to Scott's mother. She seemed tense around Valerie at first, but something about the years gone by had softened her. His mother talked to us both about Scott, his condition, and how mean my wife used to be-- always the tomboy, the trouble maker.
My wife, for her part, acknowledged her own reckless attitude. We all talked softly about Scott and his deteriorating condition; he was in my graduating class, and though he seemed short, skinny, and shy, I never knew how he struggled.
A few days later, while taking my kids over to my in-laws, Scott's father came up to me and shook my hand-- he wanted to thank me for Mert's article. I tried to explain that I had nothing to do with it, but he was thankful all the same.
In this issue, on page 19, our new editor reported the good news. Scott received his long-awaited double-lung transplant. He lived in St. Louis for months away from his wife, and family, and friends...waiting.
My wife told me that, as a child, she did feel sorry for Scott at times. Especially, after school. You see, she said Scott's dad would make him run everyday to strengthen his lungs. She said Scott would often look sad that he couldn't just play with the others.
According to cff.org, around 30,000 kids and adults have cystic fibrosis in America. Unfortunately, not everyone gets to live long enough to see a shot at the type of life-saving surgery Scott received.
Dale reported that Carlstrom said he felt he was within a couple of months of dying. His lung capacity had been as low as 17 percent of where it ought to be before the transplant. It's now said to be at 123 percent.
In the article, Scott said: "I now know that I was lucky to have had CF all my life. When people live the way I now do for 50 or 60 years and then are hit with a catastrophic disease, it must be terribly hard to adjust. That’s all I had known.”
While he has had two rejection incidents, it seems now that he is out of the woods. With a new pair of lungs, it appears Scott has the best part of his life in front of him.
His parents, who have dedicated their lives to the care of their oldest son, can hopefully enjoy what's remaining of their stories.
There's a lot of feathers out there. There's a lot of stories.
For now, what matters is Scott has a new lease on life. He's 34, and just beginning to live.
Get out there and live, my friend. Play in the dirt. Get outdoors and play, Scottie. It's time for you to play.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Post Town Hall Thoughts
KY3 reporter David Cantanese asked a question of Sen. Claire McCaskill after the town hall meeting yesterday: (paraphrasing) nobody who comes to these things ever seems to change their minds, so why do it-- what do you hope to get out of it?
She went on to say "we may not have convinced anyone... but it's still a really important part of this democracy."
In the post interviews behind the curtain at the Gillioz, she also said, "I learned its really important to make yourself available and accessible [to constituents]."
One of my friends on Facebook, a college-age counselor at a local church, said on his status "[He] would still disagree with Senator McCaskill on some of the substantive issues related to healthcare reform, but would now consider himself something of a fan; she was gracious, poised, thoughtful, and handled a difficult situation admirably. Kudos."
As someone down in the orchestra pit, I never got the sense that things were getting out of hand, but I did feel there was a real sense of anger in the air from those opposed to reform.
I can't help but wonder if McCaskill heard the angry voices as much as those who, like my friend, were listening heard her. The best arguments were all there for those who were looking.
Cantanese might have been wrong. I do think people on both sides were changed, even if only in subtle ways.
She went on to say "we may not have convinced anyone... but it's still a really important part of this democracy."
In the post interviews behind the curtain at the Gillioz, she also said, "I learned its really important to make yourself available and accessible [to constituents]."
One of my friends on Facebook, a college-age counselor at a local church, said on his status "[He] would still disagree with Senator McCaskill on some of the substantive issues related to healthcare reform, but would now consider himself something of a fan; she was gracious, poised, thoughtful, and handled a difficult situation admirably. Kudos."
As someone down in the orchestra pit, I never got the sense that things were getting out of hand, but I did feel there was a real sense of anger in the air from those opposed to reform.
I can't help but wonder if McCaskill heard the angry voices as much as those who, like my friend, were listening heard her. The best arguments were all there for those who were looking.
Cantanese might have been wrong. I do think people on both sides were changed, even if only in subtle ways.
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