My sister’s husband’s sister was killed yesterday morning. She was driving to work and another driver crossed over the concrete median and struck her head-on. It was in town so their speeds were not high. She was in a SUV; he was in a full size pickup. She was DOA at the hospital; he will live.
Hers was a death which should not have happened. Her death was undeserved and unexpected. We are want to ask why? And what if?
Why her? Why at this time? Why in this manner?
What if she had left home just a little sooner? Or a little later?
We know that we are temporal beings and none of us have any guaranty that we will live to see tomorrow. We know that bad things happen to good people and that bad things happen to bad people.
As much as any of us can be considered to be good, my sister’s sister-in-law was good. But more importantly she was redeemed. She has now joined those who have gone on before us. Those like my grandparents, and my father, and my aunt and uncle, and several of my friends.
We are grieved at her passing but we are also gratified to know that we have the promise of being able to one day see her again.

Today is my sister’s birthday.  Out of consideration for her and for me I’ll not divulge her age.
The question that presents itself is what does one give to one who lives in southern California in a scrumptious home only blocks from the beach and who travels the world over annually?
This query reminds me of a similar one that we grappled with as she and I and our two other sibs grew up and were faced with Father’s Day, pop’s birthday, and Christmas. What do we give our dad who had closets full of new suits and all of the accessories? What do we give a man who has a boat and a camper trailer which he rarely, if ever used?  As I recall he hardly ever used them. I know that I never was included in using them.  What do we give a man who drove a Chrysler New Yorker  around in the cow pasture? In essence, what do we give a man who we felt had everything? Well, I never figured it out. I don’t know that my sisters did either.  Now pop is gone.
I doubt that my sister, Nancy, ever thought that she’d place us in the same predicament that our pop had placed us.  The predicament is compounded by the fact that she herself is quite thoughtful and creative in her own gift giving.  Of course, travelling to umpteen different exotic locales might be of help in that regard.
Oh sure,  we could give her a gift card to Red Lobster or The Outback Steakhouse or some such, whereas we didn’t have much of the wherewithal to do similarly for pop. Now that I think about it I don’t think they had  gift cards then like they do now. 
But a gift card is really just like giving money,  only more limited in how you can spend it. Somehow money seems impersonal, not to mention easily quantifiable.  The recipient might not know how much you spent on say that lava lamp, whereas it is quite obvious with a check or a gift card. 
It might be helpful if Nancy would make a list for us. I find that people aren’t much into making lists, however, unless its for a wedding registry.  Knowing Nancy she’d probably do like our mom- she’d just mention goofy stuff.  Oh, I need a new potato masher or a fly swatter. Well, maybe a fly swatter is not a good example for Nancy. I don’t think they even have flies where she lives. I do know that every day is seemingly perfect there and, accordingly, I don’t think they have the  pestilences that us ordinary people have in the rest of the country.
So what did I get my sister for her birthday? Well, the same thing I got her last year.  An e-greeting and a phone call.  I like making a birthday call to Nancy because I can procrastinate for an extra two hours inasmuch as I’m in CST and she is in PST. That is unless she’s travelling in some other part of the world and then I do voice mail.

Modesto was also in the national spotlight for months prior to Laci’s disappearance. Perhaps you recall Chandra Levy, another young, petite brunette. She went missing on 4-30-2001. She was an intern who had been having an affair with Democratic congressman Gary Condit who represented Modesto and the surrounding area. He was married and 30 years her senior.

Chandra’s body wasn’t found for over a year later on 5-22-02.
Chandra’s mother, Susan, later helped in the search for Laci.
Chandra’s killer has never been found. Susan Levy believes that Gary Condit knows more than he has said.

Chandra’s birthday is 4-14 – the same date that Laci and Conner were found.

This entry is long overdue. Well, maybe not long overdue inasmuch as I only started this blog last month, but, still, overdue. Its overdue in the sense that I have not yet mentioned that I have a grandchild who is about to turn two and also two more who are younger than he is. Three grandkids under two! How do I do it?
Not very well yet actually. I am still grappling with my new role. Grandfather. Grandpa. Gramps. Just what is this? My grandpa is the grandpa – not me. I’m the grandson. I’d been a grandson a good long while. I’m accustomed to this role. I was fairly comfortable with it. But now the tables have turned, whether I was ready or not. Now there are these kids who are going to be expecting me to know what to do as a grandpa. Expecting me to act like a grandpa – their grandpa. Mercy!
I wonder if there is a book, “Grandpa-ing for Dummies”. There probably is. It seems like there is some book for dummies or idiots on just about every subject now. Ha! I just search engined this. I would say that I googled it, but those two guys over at Google already have enough publicity and have made enough money. Well, anyway, I found this website :
.

http://www.marilynshideaway.com/granparenting.html

I’ll accept that this lady has correctly done her research even though her website address misspells grandparenting. She says that there is, in point of fact, no such book.
Alas, I’m just going to have to keep trying to wing it. Poor grandkids.

Its now been more than two days and I can still barely move. I thought I was in shape. After all, I’ve run 5 marathons. Two of them within the last 4 months. And I try to workout or run most every day…at least in my own fashion.
I’ve been seeing these signs cropping up here and there. Sometimes nailed to a telephone pole. Sometimes stuck in the ground at an intersection. And also the ads in different magazines and newspapers. Perhaps you’ve seen them too. Signs and ads for Boot Camps.
 Apparently they’ve become quite fashionable for the regular civilian. Well, after running across these notices for about a year or so and after hearing from a friend about how much he gained from going, I was  primed when a trial boot camp session was offered. It was offered this past Saturday – two days ago.
The session was for only 45 minutes. And in an air conditioned gym. How hard could it be?
I thought I was going to die.
And they even had 2 breaks and ended 5 minutes early. I found out that there’s in shape and then there’s in shape. Obviously my concept of being in shape is not what everyone else’s is. Or at least those that actually are in shape. Many of the drills that the leader demonstrated  looked simple enough…at least until I actually tried them. Some of the other drills I never did figure out.
My one consolation is that most everyone else in this mini boot camp were struggling too. Of course, a lot of them were not cheating on their pushups like I was.
If you may be thinking about going to a boot camp yourself, I suggest you have a good supply of ibuprofin on hand. Maybe even better yet, you might try to find a slipper camp first.

I’m in the thrust of another psychological-emotional episode. I call it that for lack of any better term that might come to mind. I majored in psychology but still no term arises which might the more aptly convey the feeling that I now have. Why I majored in psychology is fodder for a separate post at perhaps some future date.
The reason for this psychological-emotional state? My mother is turning 80. Eighty years! What on earth is my mother doing turning 80?
This is she who breast fed me, I think. Who carted me off to school and fixed dinner when no one else would.
This is the one who bandaged my knee when I banged it up. I don’t recall such a thing happening, but surely something of such nature happened. I do recall running into the monkey bars and blackening my eye. This happened at school and she wasn’t there, of course. But if she had been, I’m sure she would have done something.
Do they still use the term monkey bars? Its probably now called a jungle gym or playscape or something. They may not even have such a thing anymore, for all I know.
If my mom is the one who had me when she was still at a tender young age and she is now turning 80, what does that make me? None of this is quite right. Where did the time go? Where, in fact, did the last couple of hours go?
This business of time passing is just too confusing, especially for someone who spends most of his time living in the past. Maybe that helps explain my procrastination issues. Then again maybe not.
Is there a psychiatrist out there?

Well, I guess I didn’t JUST run in it…it was a week ago Sunday (2-17-08). This marathon has become one of the best marathons in the US. Not that I would know – its what I’ve read. I’ve only run 5 marathons which includes this one twice. No, I didn’t run it twice last Sunday – I did it this year and last year.
I did sense that this one was very well organized and it was quite neat as it had different musical groups playing every mile and it had lots of spectators all along the way who were most generous with their encouragements;i.e: “you’re looking good!”, and “great running!”. They knew and you knew that they were lying, but still it was nice to hear. That’s one of the reasons why I run marathons. There are never people calling out to me anywhere else that I’m looking good.
Some of you may wonder, well, besides having people call out lies to you, why do you, in fact, run? I think this little video that I just ran across may help to explain that. Enjoy.

http://www.statesman.com/news/mplayer/sports/65386

Well, I found it is one of the few handles that I can come up with that is never previously taken.
Back when I used to fancy myself as a chess player I would read chess notations. This is a chess notation…albeit in a version that has been replaced by a supposedly improved one. It means King takes Queen – checkmate. A winning move that is truly rare. Hopefully, this blog will be a little like that.