Done

Forward From Behind

2008-02-27T09:11:00.003-06:00

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The following was sent to me by an office mate. I don't send forwards b/c I think they are in poor taste and no one is really going to read it no matter how much you beg, threaten years of their luck or begin the forward by saying, "I normally don't forward emails, but..."

That being said, this is worth a read. Enjoy to whatever extent!

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The US standard railroad gauge (distance between the rails) is 4 feet 8.5 inches. That's an exceedingly odd number.
Why was that gauge used? Because that's the way they built them in England and English expatriates built the US railroads.

Why did the English build them like that?
Because the first rail lines were built by the same people who built the pre-railroad tramways, and that's the gauge they used.

Why did "they" use that gauge then?
Because the people who built the tramways used the same jigs and tools that they used for building wagons, which used that wheel spacing.

Why did the wagons have that particular odd wheel spacing?
Well, if they tried to use any other spacing, the wagon wheels would break on some of the old, long distance roads in England , because that's the spacing of the wheel ruts.

So who built those old rutted roads?
Imperial Rome built the first long distance roads in Europe (and England) for their legions. The roads have been used ever since.

And the ruts in the roads?
Roman war chariots formed the initial ruts, which everyone else had to match for fear of destroying their wagon wheels. Since the chariots were made for Imperial Rome, they were all alike in the matter of wheel spacing.

Therefore the United States standard railroad gauge of 4 feet, 8.5 inches is derived from the original specifications for an Imperial Roman war chariot. Bureaucracies live forever.

So the next time you a re handed a Specification/ Procedure/ Process and wonder "What horse's ass came up with it?" you may be exactly right. Imperial Roman army chariots were made just wide enough to accommodate the rear ends of two war horses. (Two horses' asses.) Now, the twist to the story:

When you see a Space Shuttle sitting on its launch pad, there are two big booster rockets attached to the sides of the main fuel tank. These are solid rocket boosters, or SRBs. The SRBs are made by Thiokol at their factory in Utah . The engineers who designed the SRBs would have preferred to make them a bit fatter, but the SRBs had to be shipped by train from the factory to the launch site. The railroad line from the factory happens to run through a tunnel in the mountains, and the SRBs had to fit through that tunnel. The tunnel is slightly wider than the railroad track, and the railroad track, as you now know, is about as wide as two horses' behinds.

So, a major Space Shuttle design feature of what is arguably the world's most advanced transportation system was determined over two thousand years ago by the width of a horse's ass. And you thought being a horse's ass wasn't important?

Ancient horse's asses control almost everything....and CURRENT Horses Asses are controlling everything else!!

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Ah politics!

Now, I do my best to keep my facts straight and attempt to filter truth from lies. I know many men of God who forward like it's hot and don't realize they are promoting falsities. I always check Snopes.com for the verity of any email information and/or story told by any storyteller. This is where I ask a rhetorical question: Does that mean one should trust all internet content?

This article provides some answers to the previous story. Short of the long is, while entertaining, it's only somewhat true.

Overarching theme? Always test your "facts." Always!

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a few thoughts...

2008-02-25T07:41:00.003-06:00

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Question: How many blogs have you abandoned? This is the beginning of number five for myself. One was more political ranting in hopes of educating the masses and yet I found that the "masses" I was educating numbered in single digits. The other four were personal in nature, though I can only locate two.

I frequently go back to read them in hopes of remembering what the deuce I was stammering on about. They are embarrassing for the most part. Who really enjoys their own poetry anyway right? The sheer naivety at times can cause one to rougee, though I find it refreshing to see how somethings change and somethings remain. My poetry is still rubbish.

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I'm a former sticker junkie. I had one vehicle w/ at least 20 stickers on windows, bumpers and trunk lids. I've recovered to a state of normalcy upon realization that even billboards have a word limit and no one should be straining to read your car whilst driving. This is just one issue.

I removed my Mike Huckabee 2008 bumper sticker on Sunday. I was termed a fair-weather supporter. Tisk, tisk. I have my personal convictions people. There are still people driving around displaying their Kerry/Edwards or the local GOP senate loser. Does this lack of removal display a general soreness about the loss of their candidate or just sheer laziness on the part of the driver? There has to be order in the bumper sticker community.

Also, if you are still sporting bumper wear of W'04 or Sportsman for Bush '04, I'm speaking to you too. No one likes a braggart. Anyone interested in a Bush '08 sticker?

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Watching Life

2008-02-12T09:34:00.000-06:00

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There are many things, circumstances in life, that will change who you are, how you go about life and treat those around you. Some say life is unfair. I've never heard these words from my sister.

I remember December 14, 1995. It was the year I was to finish high school. It was the day of my sister's birth 16 years prior. It was the day we lost everything we owned to fire. Gone in seconds. Helpless. You can do nothing but stare.

I will remember February 5, 2008. It was Super Tuesday. It was Mardi Gras. It was the day my sister lost everything she owned to a tornado. She was again without a house and forced to start over. What follows is what I've edited from a story in the February 10, Arkansas Democrat-Gazette.

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The night their world blew away

BY CATHY FRYE, AMY UPSHAW AND BILL HORNADAY ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT-GAZETTE

.....In Clinton, about a 90-minute drive northeast of Atkins, Jaclyn Derreberry also was relishing a crisp afternoon. Her girls, Vanessa, 8, and Jasmine, 5, had even worn short sleeves and flip-flops to school that day.

At 3:30 p.m., Jaclyn pulled into the driveway of the older, three-bedroom home that had belonged to her husband’s family for generations. A survivor of other storms, the wood-and siding house off U.S. 65 wasn’t much to look at. But for the Derreberrys, it was a much cherished home, furnished with warm memories.

The girls, along with their 3-year-old brother, Dekota, clambered out of the car and went inside. Vanessa pulled out homework while Jaclyn looked over a few notes from Jasmine’s preschool teacher.

The television stayed off. It was too pretty an afternoon.

At 4:45 p.m. Jaclyn piled the kids in the car and headed 17 miles south to Damascus to pick up her husband, David, who tests gas lines for Klaasmeyer Construction.

Normally, David would have driven himself to and from work, but the transmission had gone out on the family’s only car Monday. So Jaclyn had borrowed her mother’s car.

Once on the road, her cell phone rang.

Jaclyn’s mother wanted to warn her about bad weather and possible tornadoes near Clinton. So when David got into the car at 5 p.m. - talking about how he was looking forward to going home, taking a shower and watching television - Jaclyn cut him off.

No, she said. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the storms.

Since it was close to supper time, David figured the family could find a place to eat and wait out the weather.

Agreed on this plan, the Derreberrys drove even farther south, to the Wagon Wheel restaurant in Greenbrier, where they ordered hamburgers and several slices of apple pie.

As they ate, other patrons stared nervously out the windows, watching as dark clouds rolled in.

...

David and Jaclyn heard that the tornado warning for Clinton would end at 6:15 p.m., so they stayed at the restaurant until about 6:30 p.m. before heading home.

They anticipated seeing a few downed trees or broken windows on the way home, but nothing major. David’s gut told him his house would be fine. But as they drove home, the rain hit harder and faster. So many bolts of lightning spread across the sky at once that Vanessa thought it looked like daylight.

When her daddy told the children to settle down so he could concentrate on the road, Vanessa quickly took on the role of big sister. As the family talker, she was good at it. She covered Dekota with her jacket, and he eventually fell asleep.

She snuggled under her sister’s coat and tried to settle her fears.

...

By 7:15 p.m., the Derreberrys, still several miles from home, were stuck in traffic on U.S. 65 trying to get into Clinton.

They waited and waited and waited.

Jaclyn was anxious for David to find a way around all the idling cars so they could go home and check on their 7-month-old black Lab puppy, Suzy-Q , who was sitting in the bathroom when the family left that afternoon.

Everyone - except for a sleeping Dekota - was growing more tense as the minutes ticked by. Finally, David was able to turn left at the town’s only stoplight and drive behind Wal-Mart, a back way to get to the other end of the highway.

As they drove over downed power lines and dodged huge pine trees in the middle of the road, David got the sinking feeling that his gut was dead wrong.

Jaclyn and the girls cried, partly out of fear and partly because they feared the worst for the puppy.

Shortly after 8:15 p.m., David pulled over and started walking the last two-tenths of a mile up the highway to his house. There were no streetlights, no cars, the trees were snapped into pieces and strewn across the road. Nothing was recognizable.

When he got to the place his house should have been, at 1174 Highway 65 South, he found only 15 feet of one wall standing. Had he not lived there for seven years, he would not have known there used to be a bathroom or a kitchen.

Everything else - appliances, toys, clothes, cabinets, windows - had been upended, overturned and scattered across the property.

For a moment, the devastation took David’s breath away. Then he thought about Suzy-Q , alone in that place when it imploded.

“Suzy-Q?!” he yelled into the darkness and then let out a whistle. “Anyone have a flashlight?” he called out to the few people walking on the road. “I need to look for my dog.”

Becky Nowiski heard his pleas and persuaded a trucker stuck in traffic to give her a flashlight. Together, Becky, her husband, Jerry, and David searched the ruins for what David was sure would be Suzy-Q’s body.

“I just pray to God daylight will come so I can see what I got,” David said as he lifted chunks of debris off his children’s toys. He found Dekota’s beloved Spider-Man blanket, but no sign of the dog.

The family had lost nearly everything. David fretted. He didn’t have renter’s insurance. And while his sister owned the house, she didn’t have homeowner’s insurance.

What would they do?

A few minutes before 9 p.m. Jerry walked from the back of the house into David’s flashlight beam with a wet and trembling Suzy-Q in his arms.

“Oh my God!” David yelled. And then - “I can’t believe this dog.”

He immediately called his wife.

It had been an excruciating 45 minutes for Jaclyn. She had been standing outside the car, too nervous to sit, when the phone rang. Jaclyn pulled open the car door and told the girls that the house was gone but Suzy-Q had survived. They all cried.

David squeezed Suzy-Q tightly to his chest and told the Nowiskis that he would take the puppy to his wife and then return to get their names and number. They had been so kind and he wanted to thank them properly once he had time.

Jaclyn opened the car door again and handed Suzy-Q to the girls. “She’s wet and scared,” she told them. “Give her some love.”

The puppy jumped at Jasmine, scratching her in the face, but the ecstatic little girl didn’t mind at all.

...

The Derreberry family, on the other hand, would be dealt another devastating blow.

Suzy-Q disappeared from the two-bedroom trailer in which the Derreberrys had been staying since the storm.

Maybe she chased after a deer, David thought.

But as they pulled out of the driveway Friday morning, armed with a long list of things to do, they saw Suzy-Q’s body on the road.

The puppy that had survived winds of up to 200 mph had been run over.

At that moment, David wondered how much more he could take. Would things just get worse - or better? They still had to find a place to live and deal with FEMA.

Emotionally drained and physically exhausted, they drove to David’s workplace to pick up his paycheck.

It was smaller than usual because he’d been sick with the flu, but his co-workers had taken up another $400 for the family and collected five bags of clothes. His boss threw in $500 more and loaned him a backhoe to help clear debris. Jaclyn’s coworkers at Sonic saved tips and gave her another $100.

The family also found coats, blankets, cases of water, more clothes and even a few stuffed animals for the kids at the old Volex factory in Clinton, where donations for storm victims were piling up.

David and Jaclyn counted all of this as blessings - thoughtful gestures they could hold onto as they tried to navigate life after the storm without insurance money to fill in the gaps.

“It’s hard, but we’re making do,” David said Friday. “At least I still have my family.”

...

Tuesday night, several hours after a tornado demolished the Derreberrys’ home, authorities reopened the highway, and David drove his family down to see what was left. Vanessa could hardly look, but she was certainly old enough to grasp what had happened. Jasmine probably was, too. But Jaclyn hoped that Dekota wouldn’t remember anything he saw that night.

The family stayed for hours, trying to salvage anything they could. The rain had stopped, but they didn’t know how long that would last. All three kids fell asleep in the car. Around midnight, Jaclyn declared it was time to go.

David didn’t want to. He was looking for one more thing - Jaclyn’s wedding ring.

Jaclyn had left it in the kitchen that afternoon, thinking she would be right back.

David hunched over the debris for hours, throwing up every so often because of his rattled nerves. After shoving the stove and the overturned refrigerator out of the way, he found a couple of trinkets and cheap pieces of jewelry that Jaclyn kept on a blue, glass ring-holder shaped like a hand. David knew he was in the right area. The ring had to be there.

He peeled away more layers. Finally, he saw pieces of the ringholder. And there, glittering in all the debris, was the wedding ring.

It was 2 a.m. when David walked back to the car, the wedding ring around his pinky finger.

When he reached Jaclyn, he held out a hand filled with the cheap jewelry.

“No you didn’t,” Jaclyn said, stunned that he had been able to find anything that small.

Then, David stuck out his pinky.

And once again, Jaclyn just cried.

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My sister will laugh again. She will enter a new home, fill it with love and return to life holding up her children and supporting her husband as only she can. She will pick up what she can and make do with what she has. She has family.

I am amazed. My sister's life of 28 years is one for the storybooks, too much to tell here. Regardless of what life has dealt my sister, however, she has proven the victor. I've known my sister to be stubborn, unmoving and unmotivated. I never thought my sister could handle much of life. Now age has shown what life has been making of her. My sister is a fighter and I'm proud.

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The donation, its effect and being fearless.

2008-02-05T08:12:00.000-06:00

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"Jesus is fearless!" My mom singed that in her email to me yesterday. It can mean a lot of things to different folk but one thing never changes and that's the truth of it.

I have two friends in surgery as we speak for a kidney transplant. Husband giving to the wife.

I have a co-worker under the knife at this very moment for a hip replacement.

Yet another co-worker was diagnosed with ALS late last year. She has a five-year-old daughter and two-year-old triplets. One of her friends read her this quote "...the donation of your life matters more than the duration of your life."

Jesus is fearless! I know people who take great comfort in that this very moment.

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...or to look at it another way.

2008-01-21T18:39:00.000-06:00

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"If you're a sinner, then God hates you!"

How great it is that statement is false. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. Mankind has been a problem from day one. That's the all-inclusive "man" I speak of, if any ladies ever read this and think too highly of themselves.

This thought ran through my mind today. God hates no one. God hates not one member of the human race. So do people sit and ponder this point when faced w/ the guilt of their sin? When they realize, 'God doesn't hate me,' do they start living as if God grades sin on a scale or degree? Is it, God doesn't hate me, therefore he doesn't hate my sin? Am I even sinning? Does sin become acceptable at that point for that person?

A homosexual or an alcoholic, do they feel fully accepted and not condemned in God's eyes b/c of his love for them? Does the "un-churched" sinner view God by the actions of his believers?

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We've got a lot of snow today. I did not grow up shoveling snow and I enjoy it. I had lots of outdoor chores, i.e., chopping wood, hauling "mis-placed" rock, etc.. These days I've gotten lazy what with the central air/heat system and the sod. Shoveling seems to be my greatest outdoor exercise event in the winter. Still, I think the novelty is wearing off.

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...served on a port roll.

2008-01-15T12:41:00.000-06:00

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I 'm not sure where the names of bread derive. When I hear the words "port roll," I first think of fish. Salty fish. When I'm doing my best to enjoy beef brisket, the thought of salty fish is the last thing I want swimming through the mind. Perhaps it could be called "oblong roll" or even "belly bun." Yet one more thing to add to my wiki list for today. P.s., the brisket is awesome!

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I have nothing witty to write. I should be working on my novel; at least a little research. Yet I only talk about it and write down ideas on odd occasions. Still it sits in my document folder awaiting addition.

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Common rule dictates the proper flow of sidewalk traffic should follow the same rule as traffic flow. Drive on the right, walk on the right. Do folk in English or older English territories obey different sidewalk rules than others? Circulation being different and all.

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Ethnic Air

2008-01-14T12:12:00.000-06:00

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I enjoy ethnic food as much as the next guy, nay more. Indian, Lebanese and Thai food is a special treat for me and I will take it when I can get it. Anyone who has ever been served these dishes are aware of the associated smell. Great when in a restaurant, not so much in the work place.

How does one go about asking certain people to not eat their strong, ethnic food in such a common area w/o offending those who bring it in everyday? I don't want to seem like the token, "I have a black friend" type of guy, but I'm not really sure what else to tell my fellow co-workers w/o seeming a bit harsh or uncaring.

One can only take the smell of curry on one's clothes for so long. It stays in the trash all day. Today it was fish-y. I'm trying to take the high road, but I'm afraid other co-workers aren't so cautious.

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The Church is made of people

2008-01-09T08:24:00.000-06:00

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I was deep in thought last night at Bible study when the question about The Church was aired. 'When we do not attend church, how are we effected?' I was more struck by the usage of the work 'church' than the question itself.

Old news but Church is people, not a building. Church is not a place where people gather to sing songs and listen to someone tell them about Christ or how they should be living. Christ did not die for specific times during the week we consider holy. The Holy One did not bring about salvation for brick and mortar. It may seem like simple semantics but I believe it's a simple step in correcting the way we think about worship and our relationship w/ God.

I know numerous missionaries who have the most amazing experiences in the field and humbly produce great fruit in the name of Christ, b/c of Christ and for Christ. They come back to the States to relax. Relax? That's the type of "Christian Nation" we are? A rest stop for the weary who are doing the LORD's work? These same missionaries share stories w/ their supporting congregations and everyone in the building leaves feeling refreshed and renewed w/ new hope and resolve. Is the message different? Can the missionaries be preaching a different gospel than what we are hearing on Sunday?

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By any other name

2008-01-02T09:27:00.000-06:00

My blogs come and go, only the titles change. This isn't a New Year resolution by any means but it's nice that it starts on such an occasion.

I've been asked about resolutions or what I hope to accomplish this year and though I'm sure it's a great trait, I've never been much of a goal setter. There are a few things I'm going to do my best at this year.

I will finish Tolstoy's War and Peace. I plan on reading other books but have no aspirations outside of that great work.

I recently started dating the most wonderful gal in the world. There is plenty of quality time ahead of us. Kristy has been such a blessing!

I will become more familiar w/ certain sections of the Cities this year as well, being that Kristy lives there. I've been saying how much I would like to travel and see more of Minnesota but have yet to make it much farther north than the MetroDome to see the Twins or south of Lanesboro for my annual biking/kayaking trip. I hear the North Shore area is a site to see for the outdoors sort.

Working w/ the youth group and establishing closer relationships w/ the youth leaders will be a top priority this year. We have the greatest group of kids and adult volunteers. Not many churches are able to make that statement when it comes to middle schoolers.

Other "to do list" items for this year:

Perform in at least one play
Learn one classical song on the guitar
Learn one gospel favorite on the mandolin
Learn one jazz piece on clarinet
Save time off for trip to Seattle
Keep a constant 20 mph for 20 miles by end of my cycling summer
Attend BeanFest
Get five chapters nailed down on the novel

I also have to fit in a week-long trip to Austin, Tx for a film festival, birthdays, holidays and write here as often as possible. When do I ever say I'm bored?