Well, someone shouted through a parking lot today that it was time for an update.
Duly noted.
So what to write about? There's the repaired, yet still rotten economy, Senator Rand Paul's epic filibuster, the drone threat that produced it, maybe a tidbit from Southern history or culture...when all else fails there's always fart jokes...
How about gratitude? It's an overlooked virtue these days. I think it warrants a mention.
In the past few weeks, the loss of a comrade, the retirement of another, the achievement of a long-term career goal and the birth of a nephew have led me into opportunities for gratitude.
So many compliments, intentional and incidental, have found their way to me in the last few weeks. Seeing how very blessed I am with friends, family and vocation, I'm humbled and grateful.
For everyone that reads this, thank you. It means a lot to know that someone takes the time to enjoy (or torture themselves) with my handiwork.
While this one is short and sweet, trust me, I'm digging in cemeteries, old dusty libraries filled with banned books, nefarious websites, crowded public transportation contrivances, wooded areas inhabited by medicated sages and maybe even an outhouse or two to find something meaningful, funny, encouraging, disgusting or otherwise entertaining to scribble down for your reading pleasure or displeasure.
Thanks for coming along on this little journey.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
In Memoriam
I don't remember the first time I met Sgt. Steve Carney. I have no idea what we talked about in our first conversation. I don't remember what we ate for the first meal we shared together. I don't even remember the first call we responded to together.
But I know that I'll never forget that man.
Carney was not a loud man. He didn't have to be the center of attention. He was content with the chevrons on his collar for years after the bugles of a captain or chief officer seemed appropriate. And yet his voice carried over the din of 150+\- of the loudest, cockiest most competitive men to ever gather in an organization. He didn't need bravado or brass to be a leader. His example was quite enough.
To say he was a firefighter would be to say Babe Ruth was a baseball player. He was an incredible firefighter, mentor, cook, carpenter, driver and friend. Even as the resident old salt, he always seemed to have room for the young rookies, offering them that famous smile. Now, this smile was detected by all but never actually seen. It remained cloaked behind his mustache, an institution in its own right.
All of this to say, 15 years of knowing this man had a profound impact on me, personally and professionally. And I'm not alone. Seeing grown, rugged men openly weep...it's tough to even write about. It's hard to process in my mind. But that is the the magnitude of the legacy Carney leaves behind.
But I know that I'll never forget that man.
Carney was not a loud man. He didn't have to be the center of attention. He was content with the chevrons on his collar for years after the bugles of a captain or chief officer seemed appropriate. And yet his voice carried over the din of 150+\- of the loudest, cockiest most competitive men to ever gather in an organization. He didn't need bravado or brass to be a leader. His example was quite enough.
To say he was a firefighter would be to say Babe Ruth was a baseball player. He was an incredible firefighter, mentor, cook, carpenter, driver and friend. Even as the resident old salt, he always seemed to have room for the young rookies, offering them that famous smile. Now, this smile was detected by all but never actually seen. It remained cloaked behind his mustache, an institution in its own right.
All of this to say, 15 years of knowing this man had a profound impact on me, personally and professionally. And I'm not alone. Seeing grown, rugged men openly weep...it's tough to even write about. It's hard to process in my mind. But that is the the magnitude of the legacy Carney leaves behind.
He wasn't just the chef. He wasn't just the ladder driver. He wasn't just the guy that called from the attic, pointing the way to the fire. He wasn't just the humble voice showing a rookie a better way.
What I wouldn't give for one more chat, one more question, one more raspy laugh, one more helping of those roasted potatoes, one more ride down 2nd Avenue trying to keep up with him. What I wouldn't give for one more chance to see him sit down after a battalion chief ordered him to take a break only to smile and get back to work the minute the same chief turned his back.
But those times have come and gone. Now the legacy falls to us. Now we must rise and pass on what he taught us. We must lead from the front. We must try to be the greatness that we saw in him and hope we get close. And we must all care just a little more to make up for the love that our friend so obviously had for us.
Goodbye, Carney. I will see you again...but not yet...not yet.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Saving Saturday
Another local story. This one with a strong connection to current politics.
Football has a storied tradition in the South and Georgia is no exception. This particular story goes back to the days when football was young, back before Southern towns doubled their population on Saturdays in the fall.
On October 30, 1897 the University of Georgia, before they were known as the Bulldogs, played the University of Virginia. Sometime during the game, a young man from Rome named Von Gammon was carrying the ball when he was reportedly tackled "by the entire Virginia team." This, of course, is understandable as it would take 11Virginians to tackle a Georgia boy. But but that's beside the point.
When the pile unfolded, Von Gammon remained motionless on the ground. Doctors at the game determined he had a serious head injury. He was carried to Grady Hospital where he died early the next morning. He would be buried in Myrtle Hill Cemetery a literal stone's throw from the well travelled naval officer from the last entry.
The legislature was in session at that time and as the news spread across the state the government did what it does best. It initiated a knee jerk overreaction and passed a bill that would ban the sport of football in Georgia. It was said to be too dangerous. No football. No "Between the Hedges". No "Ramblin' Wreck". No tailgating. Nothing.
But football had an unlikely ally.
Rosalind Burns Gammon, Von's mother, wrote the local representative to the legislature. (I'm hesitant to call him "her legislator" as in 1897 she couldn't legally register to vote.) She lobbied for the sport her son and his friends loved. She didn't want Von's death to be the reason his friends were barred from playing. She begged them to stop the bill. The letter found its way to the governor - the last step the bill needed to become law. Part of Mrs. Gammon's argument was that Von had two friends die, one rock climbing and one skating, and their sports had not been banned from the state.
In the end, the governor vetoed the bill. Georgia Football was saved. It was all because a mom stood up, refused to be a victim and kept the government's meddling out of football.
115+ years have passed since that sad Saturday. Football has changed greatly. But two things remained the same. It still takes 11 Virginians to tackle one Georgian, and the government still can't mind its own business.
President Barack Obama recently opined about the safety of football, the likelihood he would have let his theoretical son play football and the changes that need to be made to deal with "the violence" in football.
Football without violence is like chocolate cake without the chocolate and broccoli substituted for the cake. Football without the violence is like...well...frankly it's like baseball. How dreadful.
But now that I think about it if you count those catcher/runner collisions, hit batters, Robin Ventura's ill-advised mound charges and the Braves tripping over each other in the post-season, baseball is rather violent.
Think of every sport you have heard an instance about someone getting a concussion. That leaves us with what?
If you're keeping score at home, that leaves us with nothing. Not even golf.
So what does Mr. Obama propose little boys do with their spare time? What would his theoretical son be allowed to play?
I'm hoping that somewhere along the way Mr. Obama runs across a old letter from a Mrs. Gammon and he learns what football is really all about. I'm hoping he stays far away from the gridiron and allows self-governance and personal responsibility govern football. Mrs Gammon understood that it wasn't the role of government to protect us from football. Hopefully, Mr Obama will concur.
Football has a storied tradition in the South and Georgia is no exception. This particular story goes back to the days when football was young, back before Southern towns doubled their population on Saturdays in the fall.
On October 30, 1897 the University of Georgia, before they were known as the Bulldogs, played the University of Virginia. Sometime during the game, a young man from Rome named Von Gammon was carrying the ball when he was reportedly tackled "by the entire Virginia team." This, of course, is understandable as it would take 11Virginians to tackle a Georgia boy. But but that's beside the point.
When the pile unfolded, Von Gammon remained motionless on the ground. Doctors at the game determined he had a serious head injury. He was carried to Grady Hospital where he died early the next morning. He would be buried in Myrtle Hill Cemetery a literal stone's throw from the well travelled naval officer from the last entry.
The legislature was in session at that time and as the news spread across the state the government did what it does best. It initiated a knee jerk overreaction and passed a bill that would ban the sport of football in Georgia. It was said to be too dangerous. No football. No "Between the Hedges". No "Ramblin' Wreck". No tailgating. Nothing.
But football had an unlikely ally.
Rosalind Burns Gammon, Von's mother, wrote the local representative to the legislature. (I'm hesitant to call him "her legislator" as in 1897 she couldn't legally register to vote.) She lobbied for the sport her son and his friends loved. She didn't want Von's death to be the reason his friends were barred from playing. She begged them to stop the bill. The letter found its way to the governor - the last step the bill needed to become law. Part of Mrs. Gammon's argument was that Von had two friends die, one rock climbing and one skating, and their sports had not been banned from the state.
In the end, the governor vetoed the bill. Georgia Football was saved. It was all because a mom stood up, refused to be a victim and kept the government's meddling out of football.
115+ years have passed since that sad Saturday. Football has changed greatly. But two things remained the same. It still takes 11 Virginians to tackle one Georgian, and the government still can't mind its own business.
President Barack Obama recently opined about the safety of football, the likelihood he would have let his theoretical son play football and the changes that need to be made to deal with "the violence" in football.
Football without violence is like chocolate cake without the chocolate and broccoli substituted for the cake. Football without the violence is like...well...frankly it's like baseball. How dreadful.
But now that I think about it if you count those catcher/runner collisions, hit batters, Robin Ventura's ill-advised mound charges and the Braves tripping over each other in the post-season, baseball is rather violent.
Think of every sport you have heard an instance about someone getting a concussion. That leaves us with what?
If you're keeping score at home, that leaves us with nothing. Not even golf.
So what does Mr. Obama propose little boys do with their spare time? What would his theoretical son be allowed to play?
I'm hoping that somewhere along the way Mr. Obama runs across a old letter from a Mrs. Gammon and he learns what football is really all about. I'm hoping he stays far away from the gridiron and allows self-governance and personal responsibility govern football. Mrs Gammon understood that it wasn't the role of government to protect us from football. Hopefully, Mr Obama will concur.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)