Goin' Out To Cally – Part 20, Riding The Hump

As sun broke on our fourth day, I woke up early. With shampoo, towel and toothbrush in hand, I stepped barefoot over the rocky, grassy ground, still wet from the morning dew. I was prepared to put my acting talents in overdrive as I approached the location of the micro-tent, but was surprised to find they had already pedaled toward their next destination.

I sure hoped they didn’t step in… oh well, that was last night. Time to focus on today. As I showered and dressed I could barely contain my excitement. Today we were going to the Grand Canyon.

My dad always signed up for the first book free Time Life series, canceling before he had to pay for subsequent editions. The beginning of one series on United States landmarks was a book on the Grand Canyon. As a child I would scan the pages, trying to understand just how big this natural wonder was, but the book could scarcely capture the full experience. This is something you have to see to completely understand.

In just a days drive I would be standing at the summit of one of the world’s great sights and turning those pages in my memory into real life experiences.

As the car hummed down the interstate, I was growing tired of not having anywhere to comfortably put my feet. I kicked at the small containers of toiletries on the floor but could not squeeze out enough space to get my feet through and onto the carpet. It reminded me of the long summer drives our family would take when we would go camping.

Being the youngest, I always ended up in the middle of the back seat, with my feet on the hump flanked on either side by my brothers, Paul and Charles. As the car would scurry across the country, the heat from the moving parts below the hump would start to make my feet sweat. The heat would move up my body to my legs, my hands and finally my head. The sweatier I became, the less my brothers wanted me near them.

My brother Charles was especially adverse to anyone “touching him” when we took these long trips. He and Paul were able to cool off from the breeze of an opened window, but I was stuck with only the lingering remnants of cool that were strong enough to blow across my face. In my own passive-aggressive way, I would seek my revenge by slowly pushing out my legs until they would touch my brothers’. After a few minutes, they too would begin to sweat.

Charles was always the first to complain with a loud “Stop touching me!”

I would turn, with a shocked expression and respond innocently. “Oh… I’m sorry.” But a few minutes later, my legs would start to move outward again.

“Will you stop touching me!” he’d yell.

“I’m not!” I’d lie.

“You are too! Mom, make Peter stop touching me!” he’d offer up to the front seat.

After a few more “are toos” and “am nots” invariably my father would respond with “That’s enough! No more talking! I want fifteen minutes of silence!”

“It’s all your fault,” I’d push.

“It is not,” Charles would respond.

My father would snap back with the classic “Don’t make me stop this car!”

And therein would begin the dreaded and now infamous fifteen minutes of silence. When you’re given fifteen minutes of silence you have two options. One, you could sit still and try to remain quiet for the entire fifteen minutes. Or, two, you could use that time where we are commanded to be quiet to irritate your sibling even more, knowing they were unable to complain.

We usually took the latter. In the end, the silence rarely lasted more than six minutes, but, to a parent, six minutes of silence in a car is worth more than gold. To quote the great comedian Bill Cosby, “Parents aren’t interested in justice. They’re interested in silence.”

How true that is.

So, even though I was not commanded to do so, I remained silent about my displeasure with the discomfort in the backseat of the Acura, knowing that everyone else was struggling with the same issue and voicing such displeasure would accomplish nothing.

We were now at the point in the trip where we take any opportunity to stop the car and stretch our legs. As we approached a small Native American jewelry stop, I pleaded for Tim to stop so I could use the bathroom.

It would be one trip to an outhouse that I would never be able to remove out of my mind.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 20, (Text, Audio) Riding The Hump
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 19, (Text, Audio) Bob Hope, Lil’ Debbie And Restless Gods
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 18, (Text, Audio) Unlevel Headed
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 17, (Text, Audio) Starry Night, Confusing Night
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Three Beds + Four People = Oh Crap
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 15, (Text, Audio) Masculinity At Stake
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 14, (Text, Audio) Texas: Latin For Shoot Me Now
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 13, (Text, Audio) Cars, Crossroads and Cosmic Convergence
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, (Text, Audio) Tumbleweed Dreams
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Government Wasting My Money

I was listening to the Neal Boortz radio program during lunch and he read a study on government waste. He said that last year the government spent $6 million on airline tickets that THEY DID NOT USE!

They government is supposed to fly coach UNLESS a flight is over 14 hours, yet almost all of this unused travel was for First Class tickets. One of those tickets, from New Mexico to Africa cost $8000 and was not used and no refund was requested.

To put it in perspective, the average amount of taxes paid by a U.S. citizen is around $8000. So, they basically took my tax money last year and burned it on a plane ticket they never used.

Somehow they find time to vote for their own raises, but they can't follow their own rules that mandate fiscal responsibility.

Just another small example of why I don't want the government to ask for one more frickin' penny of my money until they get their financial house in order.

6 - 3

Our little league for 9-10 year olds has six teams, Angels, Braves, Devil Rays, Phillies, Red Sox and Yankees. At the end of the season we have a tournament where these six teams face each other in single elimination. Of those six teams, the Devil Rays and the Yankees, who also have coaches that rub some of the parents the wrong way, had the first round off because they were by far the top two seeded teams.

The first week:

• Phillies vs. Red Sox. (Gabe's best friend and neighbor across the street, Robert, is on the Phillies) Phillies won.
• Angels vs. Braves. As I mentioned in my blog a few days ago Gabe and the Angels came back to beat the Braves.

Afterwards we met up with the Phillies coaches and said how great it would be if our teams would be able to knock off the DRays and Yankees, teams neither of us had beaten all season long. If we were able to do that it would be just as fulfilling as playing for the championship.

So, last night was that night.

• Phillies vs. Yankees on Field 3
• Devil Rays vs. Angels on Field 4.

Before the game, Gabe and I talked about remaining relaxed and focused during critical points during the game. Gabe started pitching and did the best job I've seen him do so far. Plus, our defense, for the first time this season, was great. Gabe ended up pitching two shut out innings and we led 1 - 0. As the game continued our lead grew slowly, to 4-0 behind more solid defense and the pitching of a kid named Blake. It was just one of those games where everything went right.

At this point, the Devil Rays could not risk giving up any more runs so they put in their best pitcher, Zack, the coach's son. Gabe is extremely competitive and takes it as a personal challenge to play better than the other team's best player. All season long Zack had out played Gabe and the Angels had not been able to beat them yet. When Gabe got up to bat with a man on second against his nemesis, he remained calm. With a 2-2 count game drilled a line drive over the left fielder's head and it bounced into the fence. Gabe raced around the bases, beating the throw home for his second home run in two playoff games, putting the Angels up 6-1.

NOTE: At this age, kids aren't strong enough to hit "over the fence" home runs. But an inside the park home run is just as rare.

We looked over to the other field and saw the Phillies were beating the Yankees 7-1 in the fourth inning.

We headed into the last two innings. The Devil Rays started their comeback, scoring three runs. Down only 6-3, they had two men on, runners on second and third, and they had the tying run at the plate. Gabe was now catching, and Ben, our "closer" was pitching. They did a great job of not throwing any wild pitches and Ben struck out the last batter. The Angels had won, 6-3.

After the game all of our Angel players ran over to the other game and sat in the Phillies stands, rooting them on. The Phillies ended up winning 8-2 and we all celebrated.

So, tomorrow night the Phillies and Angels will play for the little league championship... two teams that were last in their division during the regular season, but have done everything right to make it to the finals.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 19, Bob Hope, Lil' Debbie And Restless Gods

As I lay in the tent next to a sleeping Sunday, across from an unconscious Tim and Beth, my feet about six inches above my head and my body sloped unnaturally down the unleveled ground, the image of Bob Hope suddenly popped into my head.

This was not a good thing.

Being the last of many kids, it was very rare to be left alone in the house. It was rarer that you would be left alone with a pantry full of unopened junk food. One weekend, as a teenager, my family went out for the evening. I was left alone to fend for myself, so, naturally, I plucked out the package of Lil’ Debbies and scarfed down eight oatmeal cakes in about three point two seconds.

Surprisingly… well, okay, maybe just to me at the time… shortly thereafter I began to feel ill. As my stomach churned uncontrollably within me I tried to distract myself by watching television. I flipped through the three broadcast stations, the one independent and the one public broadcasting channel available to me and settled on a Bob Hope comedy special being shown on NBC.

I really needed Bob Hope to be funny or else Debbie and her eight oatmeal friends were about to revisit the house. I kept saying, “C’mon, Bob, make me laugh!” but, alas, the laughs did not come. I quickly ran into the bathroom and, from that day forward, developed a long-term distinct displeasure for Lil’ Debbie oatmeal snacks.

In the tent I rose up quickly and muffled an acidic burp, containing a mix of steak soaked in barbeque sauce and hot fudge. Whenever your body blesses you with a gastric expulsion containing multiple meals, you know you’re in trouble. My mouth began to water, sweat quickly formed on my brow… I knew I was about to be sick.

I quickly unzipped the tent and gingerly made a b-line to the restrooms on the far side of the campground. In the quiet night with only the sound of a slight breeze rustling the trees above me, I passed our neighbor’s RV and scurried through a number of campgrounds. The nausea continued to build.

I could see the restrooms only a few yards away… I was almost there! Yet, without warning I found I could hold it no longer. I put one hand on the tree with the locked ten-speed bikes and, at the foot of the entrance to the micro-tent, the Golden Corral dinner and mom and pop ice cream shop desert expelled from my body with such a loud, uncontrollable sound that I could hear it echo off of Tucumcari Mountain in the once silent desert night.

I followed up the first with a second even louder, more vigorous display. It was so intense, I would not have been surprised if my spleen suddenly burst from my face.

Surely the bicyclists would awaken to find me standing over my present I had inadvertently left at their doorstep, so I ran into the restroom to finish this unholy task. I presented myself at the foot of the porcelain god, but it appeared my sacrifice had been completed outside.

I cleaned up and peered cautiously out of the bathroom. Surely my guttural, vocal display had awakened even Tocom and Kari from their eternal slumber, but the tents in the K.O.A. remained quiet, the lights remained off. Everything was… normal.

Just in case I returned to our tent via another path. I re-entered our portable canvas cave and delicately moved my pillow so the event would not repeat itself.

What had started out as a romantic, yet confusing night had turned into a disgustingly memorable one. I could only imagine what tomorrow would bring, as we ended our third day on our trip to Cally.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 19, (Text, Audio) Bob Hope, Lil’ Debbie And Restless Gods
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 18, (Text, Audio) Unlevel Headed
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 17, (Text, Audio) Starry Night, Confusing Night
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Three Beds + Four People = Oh Crap
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 15, (Text, Audio) Masculinity At Stake
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 14, (Text, Audio) Texas: Latin For Shoot Me Now
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 13, (Text, Audio) Cars, Crossroads and Cosmic Convergence
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, (Text, Audio) Tumbleweed Dreams
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Purification? Spiritual Realignment? I Wish I Knew

I've been doing a lot more thinking of suffering lately. Not because I've had to endure my own intense suffering, but I've had enough personal experience that the weight of suffering never quite leaves me. As you all know, I've been dealing with Crohns Disease since 1989. It's funny because, since I've had it for so many years, I can't really remember not having the disease. Sad, but true.

Most of my time with the disease has been unpleasant. When people ask me if I would want to go back and change any part of my life (other than my health), my first thought was "how bad was my Crohns then?" I've had to endure too much to really want to face it all again, so, I never long to go back and relive any part of my life. Its only since the advent of Remicade a few years ago that any sort of normality has come into play.

As I was in Mass Sunday, I felt a great sense of vulnerability for some reason. I don't really know why. My thoughts quickly traveled to the health issues facing both my father (Parkinson's) and my father-in-law (diabetes). Unless there is a miracle, I don't see their health getting substantially better between now and when the Lord finally calls them home.

So, why would God allow such pain, suffering, doubt, feelings of being a burden, feelings of helplessness? I was reminded of some of the things Mother Angelica said (I had just finished the book about her life and the creation of EWTN). One of Mother Angelica's takes on her numerous sufferings is that they are there to make her solely dependent on God.

That made sense to me.

Suffering strips away wants and goals and makes us live in the moment. If the suffering is hard enough or lasts long enough, you eventually succumb to the Lord. I know I did many years ago when my health was nearing the end of a constant three year decline. I was at a friend's daughter's first communion and I gave into the Lord, telling him of my fears and my frailty and just said "Whatever you want to do with me is fine." At that moment my fear of the disease, which had unknowingly consumed me, evaporated. Soon thereafter Remicade was made available.

So, perhaps so many people suffer during the last phase of their lives in order to prepare them for the next life... to remove everything but the Lord, to make us totally dependent on the Lord. In that way, if that is the end result, then such suffering is really a gift because, when we pass on, if the Lord is not our number one priority, then we are not focused in the right place.

Suffering is not easy. It is exhausting and humbling and can quickly eat away at your self worth. But, it does make everything else but God less important. And it does make you cherish all of the little things in life. The touch of your wife's hand. The comfort you feel when you look into her eyes. The heart trembling effect of the hug from one of your children.

Most of all it makes you realize how little control you have in your life. And, you turn to the only one with real control, God Almighty.

It also makes me think of the recent religious education one of the priests offered at our church. In speaking of purgatory he mentioned that it is there for purification. So few people (saints), when they die are purified enough to immediately stand in the presence of the Almighty. Purgatory is where our souls are purified so we can eventually stand in that presence.

Perhaps that is similar to human suffering here on earth. Perhaps it is there for purification, to realign our souls with God by taking away all of the things that we deem important and allowing us to focus on the only real thing that is important in the next life.

I don't know. I'm not the only one who has tried to understand suffering. But, every once and a while these thoughts do creep into my mind and make me wonder.

I keep asking questions, knowing that someday, perhaps after I've passed on, that I'll get the answers.

Happy Mothers Day

To all Mothers,

Thank you for your faith, for your strength, for your guidance, for your example and for your love. Without you, the meaning behind our daily lives would be lost.

Thank you!

The Season Continues

Gabe's little league team had a bad beginning in today's single elimination game. Down 10-2 after two innings and down 10-4 going into the top of the last inning, his Angels needed to score at least six runs to extend the game.

On the top of the last inning Gabe's team scored seven runs to go up 11-10 and got three quick outs against their best hitters to end a dramatic comeback.

It was a great comeback and a fun game. We'll see if they can repeat their performance when we play again Monday.

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 18, Unlevel Headed

I’m an idiot.

When it comes to love, I’m stone cold stupid. Unless a woman comes up and kisses me on the lips, I wouldn’t have any idea if she has any feelings for me what-so-ever. Probably even then I wouldn’t be very sure.

To put it simply, subtlety does NOT work on me.

I’ll give you an example. When my wife and I were dating we took a walk in Philippe Park in Safety Harbor, Florida. She told me that an old boyfriend was coming into town. They were just friends, but she didn’t want to see him and was looking for a way out. In order to fend him off she looked at me and said “Well, I could tell him that I’ve fallen in love with someone else.”

Not too subtle, right? My response?

“Why would you want to tell him that!”

I’m telling you, I’m a complete relationship moron!

So, in 1988, when Sunday and I had an almost romantic moment of temptation while looking at the stars in Tucumcari, New Mexico, I wasn’t sure if anything really happened or not.

I devised a very stealthy plan… I’ll act like nothing happened! If something did happen, she’ll act different. If something didn’t happen, she won’t. Okay, so the plan was not so much stealthy as drawn up on an elementary school playground among kids giving wedgies and getting nailed in the face with a dodge ball.

To make sure there wouldn’t be any further awkward moments that night I decided to wait a while, hoping everyone was asleep before I returned to the tent.

I remained on the picnic table until the temperature dropped to uncomfortable levels. When I zipped open the tent, I found everyone peacefully asleep.

Phew!

As I slipped under the covers, I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep. A few moments later, though, I found my head feeling hot. I leaned forward and realized that my design for the sleeping arraignments had one major flaw… my side of the tent was on an incline and my feet were higher than my head.

I couldn’t face the other way because Sunday and I were sharing the sleeping bag and blankets and what would it say if she awoke in the morning with my stinky feet right next to her face? No matter if something did or did not almost not happen on the picnic table, waking up with your nostrils inches away from someone else’s smelly feet would offend anyone.

I tried propping my pillow to get my head level with my feet, but the blood kept rushing to my face. After a few more attempts, I resigned myself to sleeping backwards on an incline. It was my design that put me in this position. I needed to pay the price for my own stupidity.

About a half hour later, I awoke feeling very unwell. Apparently, the price I was about to pay was going to be a doozey.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 18, (Text, Audio) Unlevel Headed
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 17, (Text, Audio) Starry Night, Confusing Night
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Three Beds + Four People = Oh Crap
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 15, (Text, Audio) Masculinity At Stake
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 14, (Text, Audio) Texas: Latin For Shoot Me Now
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 13, (Text, Audio) Cars, Crossroads and Cosmic Convergence
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, (Text, Audio) Tumbleweed Dreams
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Democrats Join Suit to Ban Terrorist Surveillance

Per Newsmax.com, it appears some Democrats don't want the US to listen in on terrorists phone conversations. Of course, none of the surveillance occurs without a court order, but that doesn't seem to be important to these 71 House Dems. You can read more HERE.

So, who's side are these Americans on? The people who voted them into office or the people who want to kill Americans for being Americans?

What the hell are they thinking???? How do you possibly get re-elected voting to undermine the legal process by which we protect our country????

Reiterates my opinions that politicians, Republicans or Democrats, are complete vaccuous shells of humans living in their own demented form of reality.

Mission: Impossible III

I'm ahead of my time. Truly. Its a curse. For a script I've written called Mute, I wrote an opening that is almost identical to the opening of Mission: Impossible III. It's disconcerting, but I'm used to it by now.

Years ago I wrote a seven part movie serial called The Demon Files, about a man and woman investigating seemingly unrelated deaths that are tied together by supernatural events. I had finished the script and was having my TV industry friends read it only to see a new show coming on Fox, called The X Files. My effort, The Demon Files, was eerily similar to the pilot of The X Files, which was about a man and woman investigating seemingly unrelated deaths tied together by extraterrestrial events. In high school I co-wrote a time travel story called Lonely Time which has a lot in common with a film called The Terminator. I thought teens needed a Christian TV channel. I thought of calling mine Sonlight TV. Another company recently kicked off JCTV for Christian teens.

Oh well. I apparently have the ideas, just not the resources to implement them.

Other than the dismay I felt at the onset of the film, MI3 is a very good action flick. The villain, Philip Seymour Hoffman, is excellent as the ruthless and heartless Owen Davian. Tom Cruise continues his portrayal of Ethan Hunt, top agent of the IMF, whose wife, played by Michelle Monaghan, is held hostage by Davian. Davian forces Hunt to find a weapon called The Rabbit's Foot or else his wife will die.

Cruise's odd antics as of late have turned off a lot of fans. That's understandable, as you want your actors to be the "everyman" so that you can put yourselves in their shoes. Cruise's behavior puts a barrier between you and his characters, thereby lessening the impact of the film.

This is the first film I have seen at the theater in months. Having spent almost a year designing and building my own little home theater in my house, I am very content waiting for films to come out on DVD, rent them, then project them onto my 106" screen in the privacy of my own home. Some movies, though, are worth the added expense of going to the movies. Action movies, primarily, that fill the large movies screens better than the one located in my house and will get me to the theater.

But, as I sat down with about 100 couples scattered throughout the theater, I was quickly reminded why I do not like going to movies. To our right a couple talked amongst themselves the entire time. I "sshh'd" them, but they just laughed at me. So, I got up and went to the other side of the theater only to find that, about five rows behind me, another couple was talking to themselves the entire time. It was the most frustrating thing and is another reason why I'll just wait until the DVDs come out so I can watch it in the comfort and silence of my small, intimate home theater.

If you want a high quality action flick with a great villain and amazing stunts, Mission: Impossible III fits the bill quite nicely.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 17, Starry Night, Confusing Night

Sunday, Tim, Beth and I sat around the campfire as the blanket of stars began to shine overhead and Tim read aloud the legend of Tucumcari. Tucumcari is the Comanche word for “to lie and wait” and was so termed as Tucumcari Mountain was used as a scouting point for the surrounding plains.

The Tucumcari legend also has its roots in a tragic love story, very similar to a Shakespearean masterpiece. The legend has it that two warriors, Tocom and Tonopah, were both in love with the same maiden, Kari. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Tocom and Kari were already secretly in love. When Tonopah found out, he killed Tocom. When Kari discovered Tonopah was behind the death of her lover, she first killed Tonopah and then herself. The tribal chief, Wautonomah, distraught by these devastating and tragic events also kills himself. As he lay dying he uttered with his last breath… “Tocom-Kari.”

And it was said that their bodies were buried on Tucumcari Mountain… forever in love, lying and waiting. As with the well known tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, the Native American version was very romantic.

As the fire began to die out, Tim and Beth, genetically morning people, soon retired for the night into the tent. Sunday and I, theatrically night people, had hours ahead of us before we could drift off to sleep. With the legend of Tucumcari still fresh in our minds we strolled under the star-filled sky with a half-crescent moon shining down on the desert landscape.

We walked passed the various RVs and campers, including a micro-tent with two ten-speed bikes locked to a tree near the tent entrance. I immediately thought of my brothers, John and Stephen, and their bike trip to Florida. I wondered who the two adventures were resting their weary legs inside that very small tent and where their bikes would lead them next.

Eventually Sunday and I made our way to a picnic table near the restrooms on the far end of the campground. We sat on opposite ends of the long table and laid back, our heads next to each other, facing opposite directions, staring up at the infinite number of lights in the sky.

You truly cannot comprehend the grandeur of God’s creation, and our very small place in it, until you have lain under the twinkling canopy of a starlit desert sky. With so many stars, so many suns and so many worlds above you, you quickly realize that your life on this small planet, near this small sun, in this average galaxy is not nearly as important as you once thought.

We chatted for some time about life and humility and the legend of Tucumcari. Then we lay a while, silently absorbing the immensity of the light show surrounding us. We stared and dreamed and Sunday looked over to me and said, “It’s romantic out here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” I fumbled.

Suddenly, we found our platonic relationship getting cloudy. We looked at each other with momentary mixed emotions. Our trance was broken as Sunday bolted up.

“I’m heading back,” she said as she quickly hopped off the table.

“I’m going to stay out here a while,” I said. “Have a good night’s sleep.”

“Okay,” she said as she dropped her head and silently thought to herself for a moment, before turning and heading back to our campsite.

I focused my attention back to the stars above me, wondering if I imagined or misinterpreted or over-reacted to the something or nothing or whatever that did or did not almost not happen.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 17, (Text, Audio) Starry Night, Confusing Night
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Three Beds + Four People = Oh Crap
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 15, (Text, Audio) Masculinity At Stake
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 14, (Text, Audio) Texas: Latin For Shoot Me Now
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 13, (Text, Audio) Cars, Crossroads and Cosmic Convergence
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, (Text, Audio) Tumbleweed Dreams
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Back To The Future (1985)

The foundation of any great movie is a great script. There are some scripts that are so solid, so tight, so perfect in execution that they are worthy of recognition apart the film itself. Some such scripts that immediately come to mind include Citizen Kane, Casablanca, Chinatown, The Matrix, Raiders of the Lost Ark and Back to the Future.

Last night I watched Back to the Future for the first time in many years and was amazed at how wonderfully full and vibrant and completely intertwined the story unfolded. Every scene has a goal and an obstacle that effectively builds upon itself to a wonderfully satisfying climax. Every line has meaning and subtext and foreshadowing and history. And, for a time travel film, the logic of the time travel and its effects are completely logical and believable.

On top of all of that, the story is a wonderful mix of genres. Back to the Future is a science fiction, teen comedy, coming-of-age, action, melodrama. Effectively satisfying any one of those genres is an accomplishment in and of itself, but with Future, the unique combination of all of these genres makes the sum greater than its parts.

The casting of Michael J. Fox, Christopher Lloyd, Lea Thompson, Crispin Glover and Thomas F. Wilson are perfect. As a matter of fact, Wilson, as Biff, is so perfect in capturing the role that he has been typecast ever since.

This film is a real joy to watch, even though some of the topical humor is somewhat dated. As you watch the film, take a moment to enjoy the incredible writing for which the film was built upon. It is a rare piece of screenwriting.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 16, Three Beds + Four People = Oh Crap

My tent set-up heroics quickly faded into our memories as we scoured the small town of Tucumcari for some grub. We decided to partake of some quality economy food at the local Golden Corral Steakhouse. This was the first real meal we’d had all day, so we devoured the out-of-the-box tasting buffet like, well, four people who hadn’t eaten all day. Not wanting to close out the meal with the available bland tasting, lightly flavored ice milk, we walked the streets of the town and eventually stopped at one of my all time favorite haunts… a mom and pop ice cream shop. I quickly inhaled a hot fudge sundae and was officially and effectively stuffed.

We continued walking the streets of the small, historic town as the sun began to set. Tucumcari is one of the stops of the famed Route 66 and was heavily visited when that thoroughfare was in its heyday. The walk was very pleasant and gave us a good chance to stretch our legs.

When we returned to the campground we finished unpacking our camping supplies only to find something missing.

“Sunday,” I asked, “where’s your sleeping bag?”

“My what?” she replied.

“Your sleeping bag,” I repeated.

“I don’t have one,” she confirmed.

“But, I told you we were camping on this trip. What did you think you were going to sleep in?” I continued.

“I didn’t really think about it,” she answered.

As I looked over to her large stack of luggage I tried to comprehend that amidst all of her belongings, there wasn’t a sleeping bag, or tent or RV in there somewhere.

So, what did we have… three sleeping bags, two blankets and four people. Interesting. Since I asked Sunday to join our trip, it was my responsibility to fix this minor problem.

“Okay, how about I’ll open up my sleeping bag and put it on the floor. We’ll have to share the opened bag as our bed bottom and then we’ll each have a blanket of our own. Is that okay?” I asked.

“That’d be fine,” she said with a thanking smile and I went about making up the sleeping arrangements.

As the sun slumped below the New Mexico horizon, the temperature started to drop. Tim made a small fire and I finished constructing the makeshift tent sleeping assignments. I wasn’t overly concerned about sharing my sleeping bag and blankets with Sunday. Having traveled to Miami for a play, to South Carolina for a regional theater competition and to New York for graduate school auditions, sharing a floor with someone was not new to me. As long as I had enough space to fall into an unconscious state, that was enough for me.

As a matter of fact, sleeping on the ground was something I had perfected in college. When I was a freshman, I would see students scattered throughout campus, crashed on the ground or sleeping on a bench. I remember looking at them with disgust, claiming I would never do such a thing.

By the time I was a senior, my scholastic and social schedule were overbooked. Plus, my car had died, so I had to ride my bike everywhere. Everyday I would ride eight miles to school, then eight miles to work, then eight miles to school for rehearsal, then eight miles back home. So, if you were counting at home, that means I was riding 32 miles a day while living on milk, Oreos and four hours of sleep.

This hectic lifestyle enlightened me to the benefits of sleeping on any surface that didn’t move. As a matter of fact, to make sure I wouldn’t miss class I would sleep at the foot of the door of my next one, so when the previous students left, I could roll off the floor and fully awaken myself in time.

This day in New Mexico, however, I was more concerned about Sunday being comfortable having to sleep next to me than me having to sleep next to her.

Everything was going as planned, until the stars came out.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Three Beds + Four People = Oh Crap
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 15, (Text, Audio) Masculinity At Stake
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 14, (Text, Audio) Texas: Latin For Shoot Me Now
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 13, (Text, Audio) Cars, Crossroads and Cosmic Convergence
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, (Text, Audio) Tumbleweed Dreams
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Christianity's Cultural Contributions

In a time where it seems that Christianity has become the acceptable cultural punching bag, it's easy to get lost in the anti-Christian arguments instead of focusing on some of the great cultural accomplishments that Christianity has offered to us.

In Christianity Today, they captured some of these great moments in a nice article, from the reality of the Crusades to the Inquisition to some of the more basic impacts, such as literacy due to the bible or education during the dark ages.

You can read the entire article HERE.

Star Trek III: The Search For Spock (1984)

I grew up watching the original Star Trek television series and, like many others, considered Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, McCoy and Scotty almost as family. The advent of syndication gave Star Trek a second wind and the release of Star Trek: The Motion Picture brought the original cast back to kick off a successful movie franchise.

Star Trek: The Motion Picture was uneven and unimaginative, rehashing familiar television storylines, but the release of the second film, Star Trek II: The Wrath Of Kahn was the film all Trek fans had been waiting for. It brought back a character from the original television series that was seeking revenge against Kirk. It was fun and had a lot of great action, wonderful character interaction, the unexpected death of Mr. Spock and exceeded all of the Trek fans expectations.

With the success of Kahn the Trek fans were frothing at the mouth for the next great adventure. The follow up was Star Trek III: The Search For Spock. Like most fans at the time, I expected ST3 to be Kahn, but even more so. In reality, it is a very different story. It deals with Kirk's journey to put his friend, Mr. Spock, into his appropriate final resting place. He sacrifices his friendships, his career and even puts his life on the line because of his love for his friend.

Star Trek: The Original TV Series

I sat down with my movie nut daughter to introduce her to the Star Trek universe. After watching ST3 I turned to her and said "that is some of the best acting I've ever seen William Shatner (Kirk) perform!" Now that the glow of Kahn expectations was over 20 years old, I was able to take in ST3 for what it was, an introspective story on male friendships, of sacrifice, of grieving and of loss. There are some powerful and quiet moments as Kirk struggles with the loss of Spock and the internal battle he faces over it. Sure there are chase scenes and space battles, but this story is so much more than Kahn or any other Star Trek film.

Revisiting this film was a tremendous treat.

If you have the time, I strongly suggest watching Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn, Star Trek III: The Search for Spock and Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home in one sitting as they are three films that tell one, continuous story. Follow that up with Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country and you've tied up the original franchise very well. Avoid Star Trek: The Motion Picture and Star Trek V: The Final Frontier as they are far less than they could have been.

Twenty-two years ago, I walked out of the theater thinking Star Trek III was an incredible disappointment. Buffering a few decades between viewings has given me the objectiveness to appreciate the story the filmmakers were trying to tell, instead of the story I had expected to see. Rent the DVD and watch Shatner at his best as the infamous character of Captain James T. Kirk.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 15, Masculinity At Stake

I grew up camping. My family and I camped in Massachusetts, on the top of Black Mountain, in the Rocky Mountains, the Smokey Mountains, in Indiana, Illinois and many other places. We didn’t stay at the K.O.A. campgrounds either, those were for wusses… and they cost more money. K.O.A.s were too luxurious for us. Paved roads, hah! Community pool, please! Electricity, what is this, a hotel?

No, we roughed it. We were tough. Give us a small clearing, a level site and home was where the tent was.

So, heading into our first foray of camping at the K.O.A. in Tucumcari, New Mexico, I was completely confident. I would have been comfortable putting down stakes anywhere in the arid Southwest, but my fellow travelers were not as seasoned as I, so we settled for the relative luxury of a K.O.A. campground at the base of Tucumcari Mountain.

K.O.A. at Tucumcari

I was a seasoned veteran. My friends looked to me for guidance and experience. But, I had forgotten one, minor thing… I didn’t actually do any of the work when I camped with my family. I was a kid. And a lazy one at that.

Being a man, with a beautiful, yet unattainable woman watching my every move, I had to keep up appearances. So, Tim and I unrolled the tent and fumbled with the supporting poles and zippers like a blind spastic trying to juggle jello. After recovering from that temporary setback, I pulled out the ten plastic stakes, ready to secure the base of the tent to the rock solid floor nature had provided us. I looked up to my best friend.

“Where’s the hammer, Tim?” I asked.

“Hammer… hmmm. It’s not in there?” he questioned.

“Nope.” I verified.

He turned to his girlfriend and asked, “Beth, did you bring a hammer?”

What!?! Why not just take my take out a pair of hedge clippers and castrate me right there! Asking his girlfriend if she brought a hammer so we could put up the tent? How emasculating! I stepped back as if hit in the gut with a sledge hammer, feeling emotionally sterile as Tim and Beth rifled through the hidden orifices below the hatchback.

Moments later he popped his head above the trunk and surmised “We forgot it.”

Tucumcari Mountain

Great men do great things at important times. This was my chance. This was my time! I had to save face so I could beat my Neanderthalic man-chest with honor. I quickly scanned the surrounding area like a predator on the prowl. Eventually I found my prey… a big, red rock. With tiger-like reflexes I closed in on the immobile object and snatched it from its family of pebbles.

Determined to prop up my canvas cave, I placed the plastic stake through the tent loop, pulled the base of the tent tight, diagonally angled the stake into the ground, raised my still warm rock carcass and swung with the force of Atlas.

You know, the sound of a rock hitting plastic is very anti-climatic.

Despite my Herculian efforts, the weak, orange plastic stake did not puncture the hardened rock of the New Mexico ground. With unflinching determination, I put a little mustard behind my next swing and struck the stake with such a force that it’s little plastic top sheered off and flied through the air like a royal head during the French Revolution.

That’s was unexpected. My Dad always brought a hammer. And our tent had metal stakes. I grew up in Florida, where the ground was made of soft sand. What the hell am I doing in a dessert trying to pound a plastic stake into pure rock with… a rock?

Using my college algebra skills, I quickly recalculated our actual stake-to-tent loop ratio and figured we could lose one and not know the difference. I reinserted another plastic stake into the loop, pulled the tent base tight, angled the stake, raised the rock and struck with all of my force.

Again, the stake head sheered off. “Off with its head!” I exclaimed in a faux French accent.

A retiree watched with bemused curiosity from the comfort of his RV at the camp site next to us.

“Need a hammer?” he chuckled.

Acting as if it were an unnecessary excess I replied “Well… sure.”

Using our K.O.A. neighbor’s hammer I slugged the plastic stakes into submission, eventually piercing the solid foundation and securing our tent to the floor.

Like after a great mammoth hunt, I was exhausted and hungry. Tim and I proudly marveled at our great accomplishment. Our reveling in self-congratulatory pronouncements was interrupted by the women complaining about being bored, hungry and bored.

Sure, they looked disinterested and completely unimpressed, but deep inside I knew that my masculine heroics were that of legend and would resound in their memories for years to come.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 15, (Text, Audio) Masculinity At Stake
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 14, (Text, Audio) Texas: Latin For Shoot Me Now
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 13, (Text, Audio) Cars, Crossroads and Cosmic Convergence
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, (Text, Audio) Tumbleweed Dreams
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 14, Texas: Latin For Shoot Me Now

Waiting for the girl you like to call you back. Staring at water about to boil. Watching paint dry. Having a colonoscopy. All of these have one thing in common; they unnaturally warp time in a way that makes you want to smash a ball peen hammer into your skull… repeatedly. Watching the western Texas landscape fly by your window for over four hundred minutes could now be officially added to that mix.

We were spoiled during our first few days by quickly moving through Florida, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana. Texas was different. You know, they say everything is big in Texas. You know why? Because Texas is the size of Pluto. It’s massive. If you were to take all of the egos in Hollywood, convert them to land mass and throw dirt on it, you’d have Houston, at best. Texas is THAT BIG!

The day before I was pleasantly surprised by the rolling green hills of eastern Texas, but about thirty minutes west of Dallas you begin to see the Texas made famous in television and movies. There’s a lot sand and dirt and sand and heat and sand and bushes and sand. For about ten minutes I kept thinking, “Wow, this is cool!” After that it became mind-alteringly monotonous.

To put it into perspective, let me state it to you this way… imagine the worst spouse you could ever devise, give them a squeaky, nasally voice with a severe allergy to silence. Take that spouse, give them long polished nails and have them scratch a chalk board. Get into a small sports car with that spouse and chalkboard and combine that with blowing an air horn in your ear and that’s almost as painful as the first hour of watching mound after mound of fine Texan sand move past your car window.

Seven hours later we were still watching the rolling dunes grace our peripheral vision. So, crossing into New Mexico was like giving birth to a porcupine. It hurt like hell getting there, but you sure were glad when it was all over.

Tim pulled out his AAA Trip Ticket that outlines your path, gas stations, restrooms, dining and lodging options and stated we were only thirty-five miles from our next destination.

Tucumcari, New Mexico… home to a tragic Indian love story and the beginning of an ill prepared, problematic camping experience.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 14, (Text, Audio) Texas: Latin For Shoot Me Now
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 13, (Text, Audio) Cars, Crossroads and Cosmic Convergence
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, (Text, Audio) Tumbleweed Dreams
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Flight 93 Hero Rediscovered His Catholic Faith Prior To Sept 11th

From Newsmax.com - a great article about one of the passengers on Flight 93. Thomas Burnett was one of the passengers who led an effort to retake the plane and apparently both he and his wife had a premonition of his early death.

What is even more inspiring is his return to his Catholic faith prior to the event, even forgoing lunch in order to attend daily mass and also saying the rosary.

You can read more about this great man with great faith here at the Newsmax.com website.

Stryper - Reborn

I was walking through Best Buy last night and a new Stryper CD, called Reborn, caught my eye. Stryper was a rock band that came out in the mid-80's that brought Christ to the heavy metal scene. They were the first Christian band to cross over to mainstream success. They were heavily criticized for being both Christian and heavy metal, but who more needed the word of Christ than heavy metal fans. The name Stryper comes from Isaiah 53:5, "by his stripes, we are healed" referring that through the wounds of Christ we are healed of our sins. They wore yellow and black outfits, had big hair and tossed out bibles to the crowd during their concerts. Their albums Soldiers Under Command, To Hell With The Devil and In God We Trust sold millions of copies and a couple of Top 40 hits.

In spite of all of the theatrics, best of all Stryper were excellent musicians. It had been 15 years since their last release and I was curious how the latest CD would sound. To my great satisfaction, Reborn is an excellent album. Reborn is more rock than heavy metal and all of their songs are either God speaking to us or us praying to God. The songs are catchy and full of spirit. If you're a Stryper fan, then I strongly recommend getting a copy of Reborn. It is receiving great reviews and is worth a listen.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 13, Cars, Crossroads and Cosmic Convergence

Somehow, waking up in Dallas gave me a sense of movement, accomplishment, a sense of making progress on our journey. Being the last of eight children, our parents never had a lot of money and our travels were primarily limited to visiting family in the northeastern part of the country. We almost always camped on our journeys, so staying in a nice hotel like the Red Roof Inn felt like a gift, an added bonus for taking the trip. With every state line we crossed as we headed West meant I was entering unknown territory, like Lewis and Clark, except on paved roads with fast food restaurants, air conditioned restrooms and, of course, sans native residents wanting to kill us.

That morning I convinced Tim to let me take the first drive of the day. Sitting behind the steering wheel, with the car successfully repacked, I was suddenly aware that our luggage had created a massively dangerous blind spot. Basically, the entire back hatchback window was blocked by our finely organized belongings. It did not daunt me, however, as in college I had to drive a large van with an extended back for my student aid position, so maneuvering a slick, speedy hatchback out of a parking lot was no problem at all, no matter what sight limitations challenged me.

Or so I thought.

A moment after sliding the stick into reverse and easing the Acura backwards, the car shuttered with a small “thunk!” I had hit something.

I got out of the car to find a small scratch on the back bumper and an equally surprised man from Los Angeles staring at the back of his rental car. As L.A. Man and I exchanged insurance information, Beth stewed with an excessively agitated “I told you so” look being equally distributed between Tim and myself. Tim calmed her as we re-entered the car, showing friendly confidence in me by allowing me to continue to drive his almost new, newly scratched sports car.

I’m sure to Beth’s surprise, I carefully continued out of the parking lot and made it to the interstate without hitting anyone.

As I put the car into fifth gear and settled into my shift behind the wheel, I pondered the unfortunate event in the parking lot. Considering the random nature of the universe, what are the odds that a man from Florida, driving a car he does not own, would back into a man from Los Angeles, driving a car he does not own, in a parking lot smack dab in the middle of the country? I mean, think of all of the people in California. Now think of all of the people in Florida. How many of those two groups would happen to be in Texas and how many of those would be driving cars they don’t own and how many of those would have stayed at the Red Roof Inn in Dallas, and how many of those would have parked in my blind spot and how many of those would have backed up at the same moment in time that I put that car into Reverse and how many of those would I have actually hit?

If you really think about it, what happened that morning was incredibly special!

I doubt I would have been able to convince anyone else… or myself, for that matter. I actually felt terrible. I just damaged my best friend’s car to kick off the third day of our trip. Normally, a trip such as this would strain any friendship. Add to that beating up his new car… well, that sure won’t soften the journey any.

The best thing I could do is to wait and let the event slip slowly into the ether. Eventually another conversation, another landmark, another state line would cross our paths and we’d all be focused on the next big adventure.

For now, I kept my eyes fixed on the road, staring at the arid Texas landscape quickly passing us by.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 13, (Text, Audio) Cars, Crossroads and Cosmic Convergence
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, (Text, Audio) Tumbleweed Dreams
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Illegal Immigrants Rally

Illegal immigrants from all over the country rallied yesterday to show just how valuable their participation is to our economy.

I think its a great idea... I just hope the INS was out with their cameras, took pictures, followed them home and deported them.

Here's my take on how to solve the illegal immigration issue:

• Severe financial punishments to companies that hire illegals including paying a huge fine, paying for lost taxes and the cost of deporting the illegals back to their homeland.
• Mexico's government is so corrupt that waiting for them to make their economy more robust is a lost cause... or at least a long term wait. Until then, we have to secure our borders, whether that be by troops, walls, etc. Bush convinced me terrorism is a threat. Believing that means leaving the borders open is insane.
• When illegals currently serving time in our prisons are done, they are deported. (I think they currently are).
  
• The cost of keeping illegals in our prisons with life sentences or on death row is deducted from financial aid currently provided to those countries.
• The cost of healthcare for illegals in our country is deducted from financial aid currently provided to those countries.
  

Will fixing this immigration issue effect our economy? Short term, things will cost more. Long term, the cost that illegal immigrants put on our health care system, our prison system and not paying taxes will be a great economic benefit.

If you want to get into this country, follow the laws. If you don't follow the laws on how to come in here, why should we believe you will follow any other law placed in your way?

If you want to come here legally, we'll welcome you with opened arms. If not, then you're a criminal, end of story. Expect to be treated as such.

Why New Hampshire?

Anyone know why the Lord wants us to go to New Hampshire?

With dates of my Mom's 80th birthday changing, it has left us with potential conflicts. Probably the most time we'll get up there during the new date is a long weekend, so the family and I decided to still take some of our vacation days in the originally allotted time in early June, where we had no conflicts.

So, we wrote down all 50 states and put them into a hat. We said a quick prayer and offered up our travel plans, asking the Lord to send us where ever He wanted. Gabe pulled first, DC second, Dea third and I was last.

The first time, there was some confusion on the rules, but New Hampshire was picked twice of the four choices. We decided to do a do-over and tried again. This time, Gabe pulled Texas, DC pulled Florida, Dea pulled New Hampshire and I pulled Montana.

We threw away the other states and put those four back into the hat and pulled again. Three New Hampshire and one Texas.

I put Texas in one hand, New Hampshire in the other and asked Gabe to pick.

New Hampshire.

Behind my back I juggled them around and asked DC to pick.

New Hampshire.

Behind my back I juggled them around again and Dea picked.

New Hampshire.

So, it appears the Lord wants us in New Hampshire. We did a quick scan on the internet and couldn't find much of obvious interest up there. Does anyone have any divine insight as to why the Lord wants us to go to New Hampshire?

We sure are curious.

Spark Of Caution

Last night, I sat in my movie room multi-tasking... I was watching the Lightning get bumped from the playoffs by the Senators, I watched the DRays blow a save and lose to the Red Sox while on the phone with work about a server issue. While juggling these three things I noticed sparks suddenly fly out of the ceiling fan above me.

I turned off the power and, with the help of my wife, took down the fan. It appears that the vibration of the fan caused a small back and forth motion that wore down a wire shielding, eventually exposing that wire to metal, thereby causing the sparks.

My only thought as I drifted off the sleep was "Thank God I was awake." If the sparks had started to fly after we were all asleep, there's a good chance our home would be little more than smoldering remains.

A special nod to our guardian angels for coming through.