Thursday, July 31, 2008
cloe .. lately
Audrey holding Cloe while at the Legends Game .. her son, Chris, is on the left in the green shirt .. 
Grateful for a 40 cent dip
Gas prices around here have dropped to around $3.65 a gallon. I got gas in Lexington on Tuesday using my Kroger card to drop the price an additional 10 cents and got it for $3.58 a gallon. This is a good thing. Especially since we are going to be road hogs this week.
Tuesday: Drove to Cincinnati and back to pick up Mauritha (Tammy's best friend of nearly 20 yrs.) 250 miles round trip.
Wednesday: Took Mauritha and half of Mt Sterling (or so it seems) to see Chris in Beattyville. Tammy filled the truck with people. Seven went. 120 miles round trip.
Thursday: We will be going to Lexington today to do some school shopping and then on to Nicholasville for some Karaoke. Several of the kids will be joining us. Some riding and some meeting us there. All three of my girls live in Nicholasville. 110 miles round trip.
Friday: We will be driving to Cincinnati to take Mauritha back to her sisters house. She is flying out on Monday to go back to Cocoa Florida. 250 miles round trip.
Saturday: Fellowship Rally in Burlington KY. 210 miles round trip.
Sunday: Our usual short drive to church. 70 miles round trip.
Total: 1010 miles.
With the gas mileage my Trailblazer EXT gets, that amounts to approximately $25 less for gas. I can live with that extra not coming out of my pocket.
Wahooooooooooo !
Tuesday: Drove to Cincinnati and back to pick up Mauritha (Tammy's best friend of nearly 20 yrs.) 250 miles round trip.
Wednesday: Took Mauritha and half of Mt Sterling (or so it seems) to see Chris in Beattyville. Tammy filled the truck with people. Seven went. 120 miles round trip.
Thursday: We will be going to Lexington today to do some school shopping and then on to Nicholasville for some Karaoke. Several of the kids will be joining us. Some riding and some meeting us there. All three of my girls live in Nicholasville. 110 miles round trip.
Friday: We will be driving to Cincinnati to take Mauritha back to her sisters house. She is flying out on Monday to go back to Cocoa Florida. 250 miles round trip.
Saturday: Fellowship Rally in Burlington KY. 210 miles round trip.
Sunday: Our usual short drive to church. 70 miles round trip.
Total: 1010 miles.
With the gas mileage my Trailblazer EXT gets, that amounts to approximately $25 less for gas. I can live with that extra not coming out of my pocket.
Wahooooooooooo !
Monday, July 28, 2008
Monday Pics in Lexington
This was the scene as we were leaving Tammy's Doctor's office this morning around 11:30 am. The two converging storm cloud patterns left a gap between them. It looked like there was a rip in the sky ...
I took the pics with my Kodak Digital Camera
I took the pics with my Kodak Digital Camera
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Ok .. the challenge ..
I had to add 30 names to my roster list (students who expressed an interest in taking electricity in the 08-09 school year.) Once again, I had ten days to do this. I, also, had to bring in at least one guest speaker to talk to my classes about careers in electricity.
The latter part was easy. It took one phone call.
The 30 new names tried to be tricky. I emailed and called the freshman principal at GRC to schedule a time when I could speak to the entire freshman class at once. There was going to be an assembly of the freshman class two days prior to the deadline. I was trying to get in to talk to them for 30 minutes to do my recruiting. That fell through. I scheduled another time to talk to more classes, but not the entire class at once. It was not the best scenario, but it was still something.
My principal had asked to be kept in the loop. What kinda irritated me was this ‘leave it all up to me’ stance that the state had. They hired me as a teacher. I was not a recruiter. I was not an administrator. My job was to entail teaching. I was to create lesson plans and teach them. That was the least of my jobs since I had been hired. If teaching was all I had to do, it would have been a cake job. Electricity, I know. Teaching, I know. Both, I have been doing for over 30 years.
Anyway, when I told her of my plans, she informed me that the ten days was ten actual days, not 10 business days. This meant that 2 weekends were included. Four days of the ten were days I had no access to students at all. She said she would try to get me more time. I had finally gotten a time when I would have access to most of the freshmen. Monday (day 11) was a freshman picnic.
I sat up a table. I had signs. Freshmen could sign up for a drawing for a cell phone, a Wal-Mart gift card, and McDonald’s gift cards. While they were signing up, I would talk to them about electricity class. I stressed to all of them that they were under no obligation to sign as interested to win any of the prizes. Over eighty signed up for the drawing. When the day was done, I drove back to the school and counted my ‘interested’ signers. It was thirty students.
I have to tell you, I prayed about this. We (family) prayed more than once. This was like a sign. I didn’t know if the state was going to close me down or not, but I knew it was going to be all right either way.
Needless to say, the state decided to close my program. One of the teachers at the school asked me why I jumped through their hoops when we all figured it was a forgone conclusion. My reason: when they did close my program, it would be not because of lack of effort on my part. No one was ever going to point a finger at me and say that I didn’t do everything in my power to keep that program alive.
Next installment: Student reaction and State insanity
The latter part was easy. It took one phone call.
The 30 new names tried to be tricky. I emailed and called the freshman principal at GRC to schedule a time when I could speak to the entire freshman class at once. There was going to be an assembly of the freshman class two days prior to the deadline. I was trying to get in to talk to them for 30 minutes to do my recruiting. That fell through. I scheduled another time to talk to more classes, but not the entire class at once. It was not the best scenario, but it was still something.
My principal had asked to be kept in the loop. What kinda irritated me was this ‘leave it all up to me’ stance that the state had. They hired me as a teacher. I was not a recruiter. I was not an administrator. My job was to entail teaching. I was to create lesson plans and teach them. That was the least of my jobs since I had been hired. If teaching was all I had to do, it would have been a cake job. Electricity, I know. Teaching, I know. Both, I have been doing for over 30 years.
Anyway, when I told her of my plans, she informed me that the ten days was ten actual days, not 10 business days. This meant that 2 weekends were included. Four days of the ten were days I had no access to students at all. She said she would try to get me more time. I had finally gotten a time when I would have access to most of the freshmen. Monday (day 11) was a freshman picnic.
I sat up a table. I had signs. Freshmen could sign up for a drawing for a cell phone, a Wal-Mart gift card, and McDonald’s gift cards. While they were signing up, I would talk to them about electricity class. I stressed to all of them that they were under no obligation to sign as interested to win any of the prizes. Over eighty signed up for the drawing. When the day was done, I drove back to the school and counted my ‘interested’ signers. It was thirty students.
I have to tell you, I prayed about this. We (family) prayed more than once. This was like a sign. I didn’t know if the state was going to close me down or not, but I knew it was going to be all right either way.
Needless to say, the state decided to close my program. One of the teachers at the school asked me why I jumped through their hoops when we all figured it was a forgone conclusion. My reason: when they did close my program, it would be not because of lack of effort on my part. No one was ever going to point a finger at me and say that I didn’t do everything in my power to keep that program alive.
Next installment: Student reaction and State insanity
Friday, July 25, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Oh say can you see ...
Tonight I sing the National Anthem to start the minor league baseball game between the Lexington Legends and the Columbus Catfish.
Game time: 7:05PM
Wish me luck !!
Game time: 7:05PM
Wish me luck !!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Oh yeah .. something I wrote recently
Crumpled
I found you today wadded up in the pocket of a pair of haphazardly discarded jeans, thrown carelessly aside at the end of a long day. It was a routine pocket cleaning before the equally routine cleaning of said jeans. Keys were placed where keys should go. Spare change was sorted and tossed into the silver or cooper storage tubs depending on their material.
My wallet, the walking around sum total of my existence, was laid in its place for safekeeping and ultimate transfer to the next pocket. How strange it is to reach into ones practiced wallet pocket and find nothing there. There is that moment of lost-ness. It is accompanied by a sense of frantic. All else stops at that moment until things in the world are righted and the wallet is in its customary spot.
Then, there was you, in my hand, headed to the closest trash container. However, my fingers lingered long enough for my curiosity to catch up with them. Something radiated through the crumpled folds and spherical shape. Interest worked its way until my fingers casually unfolded, uncrumpled, and opened until there you were, in your full glory, lying before my eyes.
The handwriting was unmistakable. The words were unrelenting. At some point during a day of that week, these were my emotions scribbled on virgin paper. The unadulterated sentiment violated the purity of the paper. Some word, some action, some deed, bore into my soul and it belched forth and fell in the lines of the sheet. It was a nearly lost testament to the effect of an incredulous event.
I read the words like the life of a dear old friend who had walked beside me for as long as I have had my shadow. Gone were leading edges of whatever created this bludgeoning tide on its path to forever alter the shore. The substance brought in the frothing white of the wave was, in part, still scattered about the coast. Elements of the shoreline were carried away as the wave ebbed in the defeat of the force once so powerful. The roar and the spray abated.
It does not really matter exactly what created the words or the wave. That has already been melded into the vast sea. In short time it will be indistinguishable. All that will be left to remind me that it occurred at all, are the words on a wadded piece of paper and the clutter on the beach. In time, the ebb and flow of the ocean will take even the clutter to its watery grave.
If I will look back and see this at all, it will be on another day, when I spy a formerly crumpled piece of paper with unmistakable handwriting, unrelenting words, unadulterated sentiment, and vague familiarity. All that is left in those well chosen polished words is the earnest of an event. I will take a moment. I will remember with some effort. Then, the paper will go back to its resting place until the next time curiosity finds it ways to my fingers. Like the paper, the words will be wadded back into my life. Another day, another word, another crumpled piece of paper. Life goes on.
Ron Simpson, Jr.
July 16, 2008
I found you today wadded up in the pocket of a pair of haphazardly discarded jeans, thrown carelessly aside at the end of a long day. It was a routine pocket cleaning before the equally routine cleaning of said jeans. Keys were placed where keys should go. Spare change was sorted and tossed into the silver or cooper storage tubs depending on their material.
My wallet, the walking around sum total of my existence, was laid in its place for safekeeping and ultimate transfer to the next pocket. How strange it is to reach into ones practiced wallet pocket and find nothing there. There is that moment of lost-ness. It is accompanied by a sense of frantic. All else stops at that moment until things in the world are righted and the wallet is in its customary spot.
Then, there was you, in my hand, headed to the closest trash container. However, my fingers lingered long enough for my curiosity to catch up with them. Something radiated through the crumpled folds and spherical shape. Interest worked its way until my fingers casually unfolded, uncrumpled, and opened until there you were, in your full glory, lying before my eyes.
The handwriting was unmistakable. The words were unrelenting. At some point during a day of that week, these were my emotions scribbled on virgin paper. The unadulterated sentiment violated the purity of the paper. Some word, some action, some deed, bore into my soul and it belched forth and fell in the lines of the sheet. It was a nearly lost testament to the effect of an incredulous event.
I read the words like the life of a dear old friend who had walked beside me for as long as I have had my shadow. Gone were leading edges of whatever created this bludgeoning tide on its path to forever alter the shore. The substance brought in the frothing white of the wave was, in part, still scattered about the coast. Elements of the shoreline were carried away as the wave ebbed in the defeat of the force once so powerful. The roar and the spray abated.
It does not really matter exactly what created the words or the wave. That has already been melded into the vast sea. In short time it will be indistinguishable. All that will be left to remind me that it occurred at all, are the words on a wadded piece of paper and the clutter on the beach. In time, the ebb and flow of the ocean will take even the clutter to its watery grave.
If I will look back and see this at all, it will be on another day, when I spy a formerly crumpled piece of paper with unmistakable handwriting, unrelenting words, unadulterated sentiment, and vague familiarity. All that is left in those well chosen polished words is the earnest of an event. I will take a moment. I will remember with some effort. Then, the paper will go back to its resting place until the next time curiosity finds it ways to my fingers. Like the paper, the words will be wadded back into my life. Another day, another word, another crumpled piece of paper. Life goes on.
Ron Simpson, Jr.
July 16, 2008
Oh yeah .. something I wrote recently
Crumpled
I found you today wadded up in the pocket of a pair of haphazardly discarded jeans, thrown carelessly aside at the end of a long day. It was a routine pocket cleaning before the equally routine cleaning of said jeans. Keys were placed where keys should go. Spare change was sorted and tossed into the silver or cooper storage tubs depending on their material.
My wallet, the walking around sum total of my existence, was laid in its place for safekeeping and ultimate transfer to the next pocket. How strange it is to reach into ones practiced wallet pocket and find nothing there. There is that moment of lost-ness. It is accompanied by a sense of frantic. All else stops at that moment until things in the world are righted and the wallet is in its customary spot.
Then, there was you, in my hand, headed to the closest trash container. However, my fingers lingered long enough for my curiosity to catch up with them. Something radiated through the crumpled folds and spherical shape. Interest worked its way until my fingers casually unfolded, uncrumpled, and opened until there you were, in your full glory, lying before my eyes.
The handwriting was unmistakable. The words were unrelenting. At some point during a day of that week, these were my emotions scribbled on virgin paper. The unadulterated sentiment violated the purity of the paper. Some word, some action, some deed, bore into my soul and it belched forth and fell in the lines of the sheet. It was a nearly lost testament to the effect of an incredulous event.
I read the words like the life of a dear old friend who had walked beside me for as long as I have had my shadow. Gone were leading edges of whatever created this bludgeoning tide on its path to forever alter the shore. The substance brought in the frothing white of the wave was, in part, still scattered about the coast. Elements of the shoreline were carried away as the wave ebbed in the defeat of the force once so powerful. The roar and the spray abated.
It does not really matter exactly what created the words or the wave. That has already been melded into the vast sea. In short time it will be indistinguishable. All that will be left to remind me that it occurred at all, are the words on a wadded piece of paper and the clutter on the beach. In time, the ebb and flow of the ocean will take even the clutter to its watery grave.
If I will look back and see this at all, it will be on another day, when I spy a formerly crumpled piece of paper with unmistakable handwriting, unrelenting words, unadulterated sentiment, and vague familiarity. All that is left in those well chosen polished words is the earnest of an event. I will take a moment. I will remember with some effort. Then, the paper will go back to its resting place until the next time curiosity finds it ways to my fingers. Like the paper, the words will be wadded back into my life. Another day, another word, another crumpled piece of paper. Life goes on.
Ron Simpson, Jr.
July 16, 2008
I found you today wadded up in the pocket of a pair of haphazardly discarded jeans, thrown carelessly aside at the end of a long day. It was a routine pocket cleaning before the equally routine cleaning of said jeans. Keys were placed where keys should go. Spare change was sorted and tossed into the silver or cooper storage tubs depending on their material.
My wallet, the walking around sum total of my existence, was laid in its place for safekeeping and ultimate transfer to the next pocket. How strange it is to reach into ones practiced wallet pocket and find nothing there. There is that moment of lost-ness. It is accompanied by a sense of frantic. All else stops at that moment until things in the world are righted and the wallet is in its customary spot.
Then, there was you, in my hand, headed to the closest trash container. However, my fingers lingered long enough for my curiosity to catch up with them. Something radiated through the crumpled folds and spherical shape. Interest worked its way until my fingers casually unfolded, uncrumpled, and opened until there you were, in your full glory, lying before my eyes.
The handwriting was unmistakable. The words were unrelenting. At some point during a day of that week, these were my emotions scribbled on virgin paper. The unadulterated sentiment violated the purity of the paper. Some word, some action, some deed, bore into my soul and it belched forth and fell in the lines of the sheet. It was a nearly lost testament to the effect of an incredulous event.
I read the words like the life of a dear old friend who had walked beside me for as long as I have had my shadow. Gone were leading edges of whatever created this bludgeoning tide on its path to forever alter the shore. The substance brought in the frothing white of the wave was, in part, still scattered about the coast. Elements of the shoreline were carried away as the wave ebbed in the defeat of the force once so powerful. The roar and the spray abated.
It does not really matter exactly what created the words or the wave. That has already been melded into the vast sea. In short time it will be indistinguishable. All that will be left to remind me that it occurred at all, are the words on a wadded piece of paper and the clutter on the beach. In time, the ebb and flow of the ocean will take even the clutter to its watery grave.
If I will look back and see this at all, it will be on another day, when I spy a formerly crumpled piece of paper with unmistakable handwriting, unrelenting words, unadulterated sentiment, and vague familiarity. All that is left in those well chosen polished words is the earnest of an event. I will take a moment. I will remember with some effort. Then, the paper will go back to its resting place until the next time curiosity finds it ways to my fingers. Like the paper, the words will be wadded back into my life. Another day, another word, another crumpled piece of paper. Life goes on.
Ron Simpson, Jr.
July 16, 2008
My Review of "The Dark Knight"
We went to the midnight showing of the new Batman flick last night. YEAH !! It was great. LONG !! But still great
Here is the review I wrote on the movies website
totally NOT disappointed
As a reader of comic books for 40 plus years, I was eagerly and cautiously awaiting this release. I sat enthralled in a theater packed with new teen aged Batman fans and hung on every explosion, every twist, every piece of the action. This movie jam packed the action into every scene. The story was wonderful. The dedication to the spirit of the comics (Batman's code of honor and the Joker's complete lack of one) was clearly defined.
The seething darkness beneath the calm exterior of Bruce Wayne was wonderfully captured by Christian Bale. His acting displayed the diversity of such a complex character as Batman and still maintained the simplicity of his quest.
Heath Ledger's portrayal of the Joker was stunning. Not to take anything away from previous actors filling this role, but he surpassed them all. In the original movie, Nicholson stole the show from the weaker Keaton Batman. Christian Bale's strength in this character pulled equal footing, which made the epic struggle between them all the more thrilling to watch.
Although time constraints did not permit for the full development of the Dent/Two-Face character, it was still a strong performance by Eckhart to manage the character. As a lifelong fan of Batman, I had the basis for filling in gaps necessarily left in the movie.
If there was a weakness in this movie at all, it was in the portrayal of Rachel by Gyllenhaal. In "Batman Begins" Rachel was a tough city prosecutor in a city run by it's lowest element. Holmes looked dainty but pulled off toughness. In this movie, Rachel seemed weak and directionless. This was further convoluted but her confusion as to which hero she wanted to be with. Her vacillating emotions between Wayne and Dent made her character seem weaker. Additionally, there seemed to be no real chemistry between either man and her. In "Begins" she had clear and concise purpose and did not let her emotional attachments sway her direction. This was a strength created in "Begins" and seemingly abandoned in "Knight".
The continuing development of Oldman's Gordan is phenomenal. The entire theater gasped when he was shot. (WARNING ~ SPOILER) When he showed up as the driver in the transfer scene, the theater erupted in applause. This is an emotional attachment to a movie character not often seen. Well done.
I loved the tense scenes aboard the two ferry's as the riders struggled with who and what they were. There was one line when the citizens were discussing the 'value' of keeping the prisoners alive at the risk of their own deaths. Someone spoke up and said that it was obvious that they hadn't decided to let us die, as we are still here. It was a great moment of the acceptance that there is good and evil in all of us.
Overall, this was a great movie. I highly recommend anyone to see this movie, comic fan or not.
Oh yeah .. and more on the job story is coming .. I promise
Here is the review I wrote on the movies website
totally NOT disappointed
As a reader of comic books for 40 plus years, I was eagerly and cautiously awaiting this release. I sat enthralled in a theater packed with new teen aged Batman fans and hung on every explosion, every twist, every piece of the action. This movie jam packed the action into every scene. The story was wonderful. The dedication to the spirit of the comics (Batman's code of honor and the Joker's complete lack of one) was clearly defined.
The seething darkness beneath the calm exterior of Bruce Wayne was wonderfully captured by Christian Bale. His acting displayed the diversity of such a complex character as Batman and still maintained the simplicity of his quest.
Heath Ledger's portrayal of the Joker was stunning. Not to take anything away from previous actors filling this role, but he surpassed them all. In the original movie, Nicholson stole the show from the weaker Keaton Batman. Christian Bale's strength in this character pulled equal footing, which made the epic struggle between them all the more thrilling to watch.
Although time constraints did not permit for the full development of the Dent/Two-Face character, it was still a strong performance by Eckhart to manage the character. As a lifelong fan of Batman, I had the basis for filling in gaps necessarily left in the movie.
If there was a weakness in this movie at all, it was in the portrayal of Rachel by Gyllenhaal. In "Batman Begins" Rachel was a tough city prosecutor in a city run by it's lowest element. Holmes looked dainty but pulled off toughness. In this movie, Rachel seemed weak and directionless. This was further convoluted but her confusion as to which hero she wanted to be with. Her vacillating emotions between Wayne and Dent made her character seem weaker. Additionally, there seemed to be no real chemistry between either man and her. In "Begins" she had clear and concise purpose and did not let her emotional attachments sway her direction. This was a strength created in "Begins" and seemingly abandoned in "Knight".
The continuing development of Oldman's Gordan is phenomenal. The entire theater gasped when he was shot. (WARNING ~ SPOILER) When he showed up as the driver in the transfer scene, the theater erupted in applause. This is an emotional attachment to a movie character not often seen. Well done.
I loved the tense scenes aboard the two ferry's as the riders struggled with who and what they were. There was one line when the citizens were discussing the 'value' of keeping the prisoners alive at the risk of their own deaths. Someone spoke up and said that it was obvious that they hadn't decided to let us die, as we are still here. It was a great moment of the acceptance that there is good and evil in all of us.
Overall, this was a great movie. I highly recommend anyone to see this movie, comic fan or not.
Oh yeah .. and more on the job story is coming .. I promise
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Favorite Holiday
Yesterday, July 4, is my favorite holiday.
The basis of everything else we celebrate in the way of holidays and special days comes in the freedom we have. Regardless of which holiday is your personal favorite, the right or privilege to celebrate it comes in the freedoms our forefathers wrested from the hands of the British.
Our country is not perfect. Our system has it flaws. It is rife with instances of abuse. The very nature of our freedoms provides place for those that would exploit the system to do so. Many, eventually, are caught up with and a band aid is placed on the problem. We cannot fix this problem without taking away freedoms we hold dear.
Benjamin Franklin said, "Those that would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety"
My right to complain about my country is afforded to me by the same country I criticize. That right was given to me and is celebrated yearly on July 4th.
The basis of everything else we celebrate in the way of holidays and special days comes in the freedom we have. Regardless of which holiday is your personal favorite, the right or privilege to celebrate it comes in the freedoms our forefathers wrested from the hands of the British.
Our country is not perfect. Our system has it flaws. It is rife with instances of abuse. The very nature of our freedoms provides place for those that would exploit the system to do so. Many, eventually, are caught up with and a band aid is placed on the problem. We cannot fix this problem without taking away freedoms we hold dear.
Benjamin Franklin said, "Those that would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety"
My right to complain about my country is afforded to me by the same country I criticize. That right was given to me and is celebrated yearly on July 4th.
Friday, July 04, 2008
The promised update: Part One
I am going to try to get all of this in here as close to chronological as possible.
Last year, my program was flagged. This means that the state was watching my numbers (primarily enrollment) as a means to determine whether the class should continue. The state required a ratio of around 10 students per class. That recently changed to 12.5 per class. My numbers were around 11.
Sometime in the middle of the year, I got a letter that my program was subject to closure. All the while, every person I spoke with in the department in which I worked assured me that the state had never closed a program that they could recall. Now, this is not to say that I relied on that fact.
My program was just in its third full year. Every year the ratio increased. Each time it got close to the number required, it seemed that the state raised the number. What I didn’t understand, and I do consider myself to be somewhat intelligent, was how I was supposed to increase the numbers for my program. Every time the numbers were brought up, everyone looked in my direction for answers. I am a teacher and an electrician. I am not an administrator. I am not a career counselor. I am not at the high school where I meet students. The students that I meet are the 300 students out of 1750 that have decided to take a class at the ATC (Area Technology Center.) Recruiting these students would only steal them from other programs and not fix the overall problem.
Anyway, there was a meeting. Everyone was there, almost. The Director of the OCTE (Office of Career and Technical Education,) the Deputy Director of the OCTE, the area supervisor (over 12 schools,) my principal, several counselors from GRC (George Rogers Clark High School,) and one of the associate principals from GRC, and the Superintendent of the Board of Education of Clark County, and myself. Missing were my advisors to my program. The meeting was scheduled for an earlier date which all of them planned to attend. The rescheduled meeting did not work with schedules, so they couldn’t be there.
In the meeting, I was given a few minutes at the start to talk about my program. I talked for about 5 minutes and answered a few questions. Then I left. The meeting progressed without me.
The following morning, I got the news on the results of the meeting. I needed to invite speakers to talk to my classes about employment opportunities after graduation. Their concern here was that we hadn’t placed any students into the trade. Of course, what was not taken into consideration was that this was just my third full year, and the first year I had ‘completers’ that could go into the field.
The next thing I needed to do was to add the names of 30 students that would be interested in taking my class the following year. They didn’t have to schedule my class per say, but they did have to put on their schedule that they were interested.
Oh yeah, I had ten days to do this.
Next: The challenge …
Last year, my program was flagged. This means that the state was watching my numbers (primarily enrollment) as a means to determine whether the class should continue. The state required a ratio of around 10 students per class. That recently changed to 12.5 per class. My numbers were around 11.
Sometime in the middle of the year, I got a letter that my program was subject to closure. All the while, every person I spoke with in the department in which I worked assured me that the state had never closed a program that they could recall. Now, this is not to say that I relied on that fact.
My program was just in its third full year. Every year the ratio increased. Each time it got close to the number required, it seemed that the state raised the number. What I didn’t understand, and I do consider myself to be somewhat intelligent, was how I was supposed to increase the numbers for my program. Every time the numbers were brought up, everyone looked in my direction for answers. I am a teacher and an electrician. I am not an administrator. I am not a career counselor. I am not at the high school where I meet students. The students that I meet are the 300 students out of 1750 that have decided to take a class at the ATC (Area Technology Center.) Recruiting these students would only steal them from other programs and not fix the overall problem.
Anyway, there was a meeting. Everyone was there, almost. The Director of the OCTE (Office of Career and Technical Education,) the Deputy Director of the OCTE, the area supervisor (over 12 schools,) my principal, several counselors from GRC (George Rogers Clark High School,) and one of the associate principals from GRC, and the Superintendent of the Board of Education of Clark County, and myself. Missing were my advisors to my program. The meeting was scheduled for an earlier date which all of them planned to attend. The rescheduled meeting did not work with schedules, so they couldn’t be there.
In the meeting, I was given a few minutes at the start to talk about my program. I talked for about 5 minutes and answered a few questions. Then I left. The meeting progressed without me.
The following morning, I got the news on the results of the meeting. I needed to invite speakers to talk to my classes about employment opportunities after graduation. Their concern here was that we hadn’t placed any students into the trade. Of course, what was not taken into consideration was that this was just my third full year, and the first year I had ‘completers’ that could go into the field.
The next thing I needed to do was to add the names of 30 students that would be interested in taking my class the following year. They didn’t have to schedule my class per say, but they did have to put on their schedule that they were interested.
Oh yeah, I had ten days to do this.
Next: The challenge …
Sunday, May 25, 2008
mucho grande apology
Yes, I do realize it has been a month since I posted. There have been some major issues that have had to be addressed and are still being addressed. Nothing relationship wise, Tammy and I are still great. There have been some issues at work. I will delve into all of that as soon as we get some things resolved there .. but ..
Here is something I wrote when I was up at 2 in the morning this morning:
A Traveler
Traveling through this oddly familiar forest
Recognizable were some of the trees and brush
Beckoned by the memorable woods
I appeared to know the direction to take
Though the path was a stranger to me
But soon the vines tried to hold me
And the underbrush tried to encumber me
I found myself lost and running
Why is it
When you aren’t sure where you are going
Getting there faster seems like a good idea?
Finally I emerged from the thickness
Into the clearing
The bluest ocean I had ever seen
Gently brushed against the greenest shoreline
Nearly at the waters edge
Was a light on a blackened mast
Reminiscent of days gone by
That seemed to shine
Brighter than light of the cloudless sky
I was draw inexorably toward it
As I got closer it appeared to brighten
There beside the light was a bench
Of wrought iron and wood
Ornate and inviting as the light
The bench welcomed me
As I sat on it
I could feel that welcome
Nearly as an embrace
I luxuriated in the warmth of the light
My every sense sought out its affection
The more I reached
The more I realized
There was no light
On that blackened post
The light was no light at all
But a bell
Blackness enveloped me
As the ringing rang out
I was bathed in the coldness
Of the sound
The ocean grew fainter
The lush shoreline faded
All that was left
Was the embrace of the bench
And the sound
Ringing
Sweeping over me
Rocking me
In the darkness of sound
The cold emotionless wave
Eroded the edges of my hurt
It filled me
It covered me
It lulled me into its sleep
Possibly to dream
Or just to stop thinking
For one night
Just one night
Ron Simpson, Jr.
May 25, 2008
Here is something I wrote when I was up at 2 in the morning this morning:
A Traveler
Traveling through this oddly familiar forest
Recognizable were some of the trees and brush
Beckoned by the memorable woods
I appeared to know the direction to take
Though the path was a stranger to me
But soon the vines tried to hold me
And the underbrush tried to encumber me
I found myself lost and running
Why is it
When you aren’t sure where you are going
Getting there faster seems like a good idea?
Finally I emerged from the thickness
Into the clearing
The bluest ocean I had ever seen
Gently brushed against the greenest shoreline
Nearly at the waters edge
Was a light on a blackened mast
Reminiscent of days gone by
That seemed to shine
Brighter than light of the cloudless sky
I was draw inexorably toward it
As I got closer it appeared to brighten
There beside the light was a bench
Of wrought iron and wood
Ornate and inviting as the light
The bench welcomed me
As I sat on it
I could feel that welcome
Nearly as an embrace
I luxuriated in the warmth of the light
My every sense sought out its affection
The more I reached
The more I realized
There was no light
On that blackened post
The light was no light at all
But a bell
Blackness enveloped me
As the ringing rang out
I was bathed in the coldness
Of the sound
The ocean grew fainter
The lush shoreline faded
All that was left
Was the embrace of the bench
And the sound
Ringing
Sweeping over me
Rocking me
In the darkness of sound
The cold emotionless wave
Eroded the edges of my hurt
It filled me
It covered me
It lulled me into its sleep
Possibly to dream
Or just to stop thinking
For one night
Just one night
Ron Simpson, Jr.
May 25, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
My prejudice .. and yes .. I have them
I have to admit that I do have prejudices.
Everyone has them, regardless of how enlightened we think we may be. We are all subject to the pangs of preconception when we are faced by certain elements in individuals. These pangs have nothing to do with the individual, generally, and are based on some notion we have about a characteristic of the person.
Now, to clarify, my prejudice is not based on color, creed, religion, or county of national origin. My prejudice is based on past actions. While that is sometimes a healthy barometer to use, it is not always correct.
That much being said, let me continue my ranting:
Recently, a judge in New York acquitted several police officers in the killing of Sean Bell. For those of you unfamiliar with the story, here is a synopsis. Bell and some of his friends went to a strip club on the night before his wedding for an impromptu bachelor outing. The club was under investigation by local police for prostitution.
By the end of the event, Bell was dead (shot 50 times) and his friends were wounded. The officers in question claimed to have overheard one of Bell’s companions say something about “getting his gun “ and tried to stop them when they left the club. According to the story, Bell bumped the officer with his car and hit an undercover police car arriving at the scene. Then one of the occupants of the car appeared to be reaching for something and the shooting began.
The officers relinquished their right to a jury trial, opting to have their case heard by a judge. The judge cited inconsistent testimony, courtroom demeanor and rap sheets of the prosecution witnesses — mainly Bell's friends — "had the effect of eviscerating" their credibility. He stated that the state failed to remove unreasonable doubt in whether or not the officer’s actions were warranted.
Now, my opinion on this matter not withstanding, we approach my prejudice.
Into this fray steps, Al Sharpton. This is where my prejudice hits.
In 1987, Sharpton burst onto the national scene in the Tawana Brawley case. She was a 15-year-old black girl, was found smeared with feces, lying in a garbage bag, her clothing torn and burned and with various slurs and epithets written on her body in charcoal. Brawley claimed she had been assaulted and raped by six white men, some of them police officers, in the village of Wappingers Falls, New York.
A grand jury was convened and after seven months concluded that the Brawley story was fabricated. Sharpton, Maddox (atty), and Mason (atty) accused the Dutchess County prosecutor, Steven Pagones, of racism and of being one of the perpetrators of the alleged abduction and rape. The three were successfully sued for slander and ordered to pay $345,000 in damages, the jury finding Sharpton liable for making seven defamatory statements about Pagones, Maddox for two, and Mason for one.
In 1995, a black Pentecostal Church, the United House of Prayer, which owned a retail property on 125th Street, asked Fred Harari, a Jewish tenant who operated Freddie's Fashion Mart, to evict his longtime subtenant, a black-owned record store called The Record Shack. Sharpton led a protest in Harlem against the planned eviction of The Record Shack. Sharpton told the protesters, "We will not stand by and allow them to move this brother so that some white interloper can expand his business."[ On December 8, 1995, Roland J. Smith Jr., one of the protesters, entered the store with a gun and flammable liquid, shot several customers and set the store on fire. The gunman fatally shot himself, and seven store employees died of smoke inhalation. Fire Department officials discovered that the store's sprinkler had been shut down, in violation of the local fire code. Sharpton claimed that the perpetrator was an open critic of himself and his nonviolent tactics. Sharpton later expressed regret for making the racial remark, "white interloper," and denied responsibility for inflaming or provoking the violence.
On March 11, 2007, Sharpton held a press conference to highlight what he said was unequal treatment of four suspected rapists in a high-profile crime in the Dunbar Village Housing Projects in West Palm Beach, Florida. The suspects, who were young black men, were arrested for allegedly raping and beating a black Haitian woman. The crime also involved forcing the woman to perform oral sex on her 12-year-old son.
At his press conference Sharpton said that any violent act toward a woman is inexcusable but he felt that the accused youths were being treated unfairly because they were black. Sharpton contrasted the treatment of the suspects, who remain in jail, with white suspects involved in a gang rape who were released after posting bond.
Sharpton is just a glory hound parasite on society. He shows up where publicity is high to make sure he gets his name in the paper or his face on TV. He does more to hurt the credibility of any case than he ever does to help it.
In the case of Sean Bell:
Sharpton lambasted the judge who acquitted the detectives in the killing of Bell and wounding of his two friends, saying a jury should been seated to decide guilt or innocence.
"If people are on the public payroll, doing their public duty, they should be required to face a public jury," Sharpton said. The officers had opted to have the judge instead of a jury decide the case.
It is my constitutional right to decide if I want a jury trial or a judge trial. That right is determined by me, not by my job, not by my lawyer, not by the public, and least of all not by some parasitical glory hound. Al Sharpton, stay off of my constitution.
Sharpton later promised to "shut the city down" with organized civil disobedience. "Shut it down! Shut it down!" supporters chanted.
Oh yeah, here is a righteous act of a Godly man. Make threats to shut down one of the busiest cities in the world. Fortunately, he has about as much chance of shutting down New York City as he does of stopping a tornado by standing in front of it.
I am sympathetic to the Bell family. I hope they find that measure of justice and peace they deserve; I hope they all find happiness. Al Sharpton is not the path to those things.
There ya go. That is my prejudice. It boils my blood. I just can’t stand those that propagate there living on the backs of people steeped in misery. They build their reputation on the pain of others.
Peace to the Bell Family. You are in our prayers.
Everyone has them, regardless of how enlightened we think we may be. We are all subject to the pangs of preconception when we are faced by certain elements in individuals. These pangs have nothing to do with the individual, generally, and are based on some notion we have about a characteristic of the person.
Now, to clarify, my prejudice is not based on color, creed, religion, or county of national origin. My prejudice is based on past actions. While that is sometimes a healthy barometer to use, it is not always correct.
That much being said, let me continue my ranting:
Recently, a judge in New York acquitted several police officers in the killing of Sean Bell. For those of you unfamiliar with the story, here is a synopsis. Bell and some of his friends went to a strip club on the night before his wedding for an impromptu bachelor outing. The club was under investigation by local police for prostitution.
By the end of the event, Bell was dead (shot 50 times) and his friends were wounded. The officers in question claimed to have overheard one of Bell’s companions say something about “getting his gun “ and tried to stop them when they left the club. According to the story, Bell bumped the officer with his car and hit an undercover police car arriving at the scene. Then one of the occupants of the car appeared to be reaching for something and the shooting began.
The officers relinquished their right to a jury trial, opting to have their case heard by a judge. The judge cited inconsistent testimony, courtroom demeanor and rap sheets of the prosecution witnesses — mainly Bell's friends — "had the effect of eviscerating" their credibility. He stated that the state failed to remove unreasonable doubt in whether or not the officer’s actions were warranted.
Now, my opinion on this matter not withstanding, we approach my prejudice.
Into this fray steps, Al Sharpton. This is where my prejudice hits.
In 1987, Sharpton burst onto the national scene in the Tawana Brawley case. She was a 15-year-old black girl, was found smeared with feces, lying in a garbage bag, her clothing torn and burned and with various slurs and epithets written on her body in charcoal. Brawley claimed she had been assaulted and raped by six white men, some of them police officers, in the village of Wappingers Falls, New York.
A grand jury was convened and after seven months concluded that the Brawley story was fabricated. Sharpton, Maddox (atty), and Mason (atty) accused the Dutchess County prosecutor, Steven Pagones, of racism and of being one of the perpetrators of the alleged abduction and rape. The three were successfully sued for slander and ordered to pay $345,000 in damages, the jury finding Sharpton liable for making seven defamatory statements about Pagones, Maddox for two, and Mason for one.
In 1995, a black Pentecostal Church, the United House of Prayer, which owned a retail property on 125th Street, asked Fred Harari, a Jewish tenant who operated Freddie's Fashion Mart, to evict his longtime subtenant, a black-owned record store called The Record Shack. Sharpton led a protest in Harlem against the planned eviction of The Record Shack. Sharpton told the protesters, "We will not stand by and allow them to move this brother so that some white interloper can expand his business."[ On December 8, 1995, Roland J. Smith Jr., one of the protesters, entered the store with a gun and flammable liquid, shot several customers and set the store on fire. The gunman fatally shot himself, and seven store employees died of smoke inhalation. Fire Department officials discovered that the store's sprinkler had been shut down, in violation of the local fire code. Sharpton claimed that the perpetrator was an open critic of himself and his nonviolent tactics. Sharpton later expressed regret for making the racial remark, "white interloper," and denied responsibility for inflaming or provoking the violence.
On March 11, 2007, Sharpton held a press conference to highlight what he said was unequal treatment of four suspected rapists in a high-profile crime in the Dunbar Village Housing Projects in West Palm Beach, Florida. The suspects, who were young black men, were arrested for allegedly raping and beating a black Haitian woman. The crime also involved forcing the woman to perform oral sex on her 12-year-old son.
At his press conference Sharpton said that any violent act toward a woman is inexcusable but he felt that the accused youths were being treated unfairly because they were black. Sharpton contrasted the treatment of the suspects, who remain in jail, with white suspects involved in a gang rape who were released after posting bond.
Sharpton is just a glory hound parasite on society. He shows up where publicity is high to make sure he gets his name in the paper or his face on TV. He does more to hurt the credibility of any case than he ever does to help it.
In the case of Sean Bell:
Sharpton lambasted the judge who acquitted the detectives in the killing of Bell and wounding of his two friends, saying a jury should been seated to decide guilt or innocence.
"If people are on the public payroll, doing their public duty, they should be required to face a public jury," Sharpton said. The officers had opted to have the judge instead of a jury decide the case.
It is my constitutional right to decide if I want a jury trial or a judge trial. That right is determined by me, not by my job, not by my lawyer, not by the public, and least of all not by some parasitical glory hound. Al Sharpton, stay off of my constitution.
Sharpton later promised to "shut the city down" with organized civil disobedience. "Shut it down! Shut it down!" supporters chanted.
Oh yeah, here is a righteous act of a Godly man. Make threats to shut down one of the busiest cities in the world. Fortunately, he has about as much chance of shutting down New York City as he does of stopping a tornado by standing in front of it.
I am sympathetic to the Bell family. I hope they find that measure of justice and peace they deserve; I hope they all find happiness. Al Sharpton is not the path to those things.
There ya go. That is my prejudice. It boils my blood. I just can’t stand those that propagate there living on the backs of people steeped in misery. They build their reputation on the pain of others.
Peace to the Bell Family. You are in our prayers.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
once more into the abyss ..
There are two things I want to share today.
1st .. I have just returned from my book signing at the local public library. It was a blast. We live in a very small community, so I did not expect much. While we were small in number, however, it gave us more time to talk one on one with people. That was amazing. People, strangers to us, sharing their lives with us. Each ones story becoming part of us and ours becoming part of them. One of the librarians told me that she checked out my book from the library (which is way cool in and of itself) to scan it before we were there so she would have some idea of what it and we were about. When she got to the half way point in the book, reading instead of scanning, she realized it was not a book that could be just scanned. She told me in the first few pages the story grabbed her. She is dealing with similarities with her own mother.
Then I come home from this heart wrenching reprisal and begin reading the news online. I come across this story about certain comments made by Obama about people and frustrations and holding to their religion and guns, yadda yadda yadda, It seems that his opponents grabbed hold of this to say that he was aloof and considered himself to be ‘superior’ to the common man. (like any of them have their finger on the pulse of the common man in America)
It is amazing to me the double standard to which we expect our leaders to adhere. While leading the greatest nation in the world, we expect our president to be down to earth like us. While I feel a connection to America and American citizens is vital, it is irrational to expect our elected leader to be ‘one of the boys’.
I am fairly intelligent, and yet, I don’t have the first clue what to do about the war in Iraq. I don’t have the foggiest notion of how to balance the nations budget or right our failing economy. It is all I can do to control the spending in my own house and adhere to some semblance of a budget.
I hope to be considered for the volume of my work in my life, rather than a random statement made on a bad day at the wrong time. Everyday, I deal with my problems, my wife’s problems, my children’s problems, and then the problems of my sixty-five students. It is unfathomable to me to consider dealing with the pressures of the problems of this nation. I do not want my president to be ‘one of my boys’. I want my president to be one of the nations elites surrounded by the rest of the nations elites.
I want my president to display greater wisdom than I can. I expect greater clarity. I demand a level of intelligence that could well be considered superior. I am where I am because of who I am. I expect my president to be a president, capable of making one decision that will affect the six billion residents of this planet and to do so without worrying if some opponent or newspaper is going to try to rake him over the coals for it.
Yes, I expect my president to be in touch with me as much as we are both human beings living on the same planet. I will not agree with every word. I will not accept every statement. I will not support every idea. I will, however, support my president. I will give the benefit of the doubt. I will accept that, while I may not always agree with policy, the decision was made in the best interest of the nation as a whole.
Please deliver me from petty minded individuals that cannot see past the end of their noses. Deliver me from those who cannot accept the ramifications of daily decisions but want to make worldly decisions based on their own bias.
It seems these days, in politics, getting the job is harder than doing it.
1st .. I have just returned from my book signing at the local public library. It was a blast. We live in a very small community, so I did not expect much. While we were small in number, however, it gave us more time to talk one on one with people. That was amazing. People, strangers to us, sharing their lives with us. Each ones story becoming part of us and ours becoming part of them. One of the librarians told me that she checked out my book from the library (which is way cool in and of itself) to scan it before we were there so she would have some idea of what it and we were about. When she got to the half way point in the book, reading instead of scanning, she realized it was not a book that could be just scanned. She told me in the first few pages the story grabbed her. She is dealing with similarities with her own mother.
Then I come home from this heart wrenching reprisal and begin reading the news online. I come across this story about certain comments made by Obama about people and frustrations and holding to their religion and guns, yadda yadda yadda, It seems that his opponents grabbed hold of this to say that he was aloof and considered himself to be ‘superior’ to the common man. (like any of them have their finger on the pulse of the common man in America)
It is amazing to me the double standard to which we expect our leaders to adhere. While leading the greatest nation in the world, we expect our president to be down to earth like us. While I feel a connection to America and American citizens is vital, it is irrational to expect our elected leader to be ‘one of the boys’.
I am fairly intelligent, and yet, I don’t have the first clue what to do about the war in Iraq. I don’t have the foggiest notion of how to balance the nations budget or right our failing economy. It is all I can do to control the spending in my own house and adhere to some semblance of a budget.
I hope to be considered for the volume of my work in my life, rather than a random statement made on a bad day at the wrong time. Everyday, I deal with my problems, my wife’s problems, my children’s problems, and then the problems of my sixty-five students. It is unfathomable to me to consider dealing with the pressures of the problems of this nation. I do not want my president to be ‘one of my boys’. I want my president to be one of the nations elites surrounded by the rest of the nations elites.
I want my president to display greater wisdom than I can. I expect greater clarity. I demand a level of intelligence that could well be considered superior. I am where I am because of who I am. I expect my president to be a president, capable of making one decision that will affect the six billion residents of this planet and to do so without worrying if some opponent or newspaper is going to try to rake him over the coals for it.
Yes, I expect my president to be in touch with me as much as we are both human beings living on the same planet. I will not agree with every word. I will not accept every statement. I will not support every idea. I will, however, support my president. I will give the benefit of the doubt. I will accept that, while I may not always agree with policy, the decision was made in the best interest of the nation as a whole.
Please deliver me from petty minded individuals that cannot see past the end of their noses. Deliver me from those who cannot accept the ramifications of daily decisions but want to make worldly decisions based on their own bias.
It seems these days, in politics, getting the job is harder than doing it.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
In Memory
The pastor that married Tammy and I passed away this week after a long struggle with cancer. He was my friend of more than 30 years. He was a missionary to Nigeria, Taiwan, and Liberia in his lifetime. He was pastor of several churches and Principal of a Christian school as well.
I wrote this for him:
As He Goes Home
All over the world he has walked
He carried the Word of God with him
It was his shield and buckler
It was his undying strength
Throughout the states
Across the ocean
To the fields of Africa
This word and his faith sustained him
He carried the Truth
He carried God’s spirit
He carried his own smile
And his bright vision
He took it to friends
He took it to strangers
Which were merely friends
Not yet made
He was surrounded by faith
He was circled by love
All of which was partially
A reflection of the love within him
By this shall all men know
And we knew
Because he refused
Not to share his fortune
When he got it inside
Those many years ago
It constantly spilled out
And affected us all
Even when the cancer
Tried so hard
To dampen his light
It shined the more
His strength in his frailty
His faith in austerity
His love in the darkness
His hope in hopelessness
Still, in his weakest
He carried us
Today he carries us with him
As he goes home
Thanks for the love
In memory
Addison “Pete” Keaton, Jr.
March 27, 2008
Ron Simpson, Jr
I wrote this for him:
As He Goes Home
All over the world he has walked
He carried the Word of God with him
It was his shield and buckler
It was his undying strength
Throughout the states
Across the ocean
To the fields of Africa
This word and his faith sustained him
He carried the Truth
He carried God’s spirit
He carried his own smile
And his bright vision
He took it to friends
He took it to strangers
Which were merely friends
Not yet made
He was surrounded by faith
He was circled by love
All of which was partially
A reflection of the love within him
By this shall all men know
And we knew
Because he refused
Not to share his fortune
When he got it inside
Those many years ago
It constantly spilled out
And affected us all
Even when the cancer
Tried so hard
To dampen his light
It shined the more
His strength in his frailty
His faith in austerity
His love in the darkness
His hope in hopelessness
Still, in his weakest
He carried us
Today he carries us with him
As he goes home
Thanks for the love
In memory
Addison “Pete” Keaton, Jr.
March 27, 2008
Ron Simpson, Jr
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Anniversary
Yesterday was one year.
One year ago, Dad died.
One year ago, we began a journey that didn't slow down until we had been to five funerals. It still added three more funerals before the family thing stopped. Regular readers of my blog (if I have any after my nearly a month sabbatical) recall the whirlwind.
Yesterday was the one year anniversary of dad's death.
About a week before the day, My oldest daughter called me to ask if the family was doing anything organized to remember the day. I called my sister and nothing was planned. I figured we would all do the remembrance thing in private ways. Kind of like the way that dad affected us all, both generally and specifically.
Yesterday was the one year anniversary of dad's death.
About a week before the day, My oldest daughter called me to ask if the family was doing anything organized to remember the day. I called my sister and nothing was planned. I figured we would all do the remembrance thing in private ways. Kind of like the way that dad affected us all, both generally and specifically.
How did I spend the day?
I woke up early (I usually wake up prior to the alarm going off on weekdays, and my body refuses, generally, to let me sleep in on weekends unless I am ill.) I looked at the clock. It said 6:45. I got up, went to the bathroom, and sat down at the computer to work a little, play a little, read a little, and wait for the sun to come up. I was sending a reply email and it said something about my email being sent at 3:45. I was like, "What??" I checked the clock again and sure enough, it was only a quarter til four. Back to bed I went. I have no clue what time it was when I got up, so no clue how long I had been up either.
The next thing I knew, my phone was ringing and it was 9:30.
The next thing I knew, my phone was ringing and it was 9:30.
We had about 4 to 6 inches of snow on the ground. I was mixed with a little ice. (How much ice needs to be mixed in to make it impassable? Who know?) Tammy and I had things to do, so we ventured out. The roads were mostly good. I had the truck in 4-wheel/all wheel drive, so it was good. We went to Winchester to pick up some things at school, and then off to Richmond to meet with Jesse. He is my Cingular/ATT connection.
We hit a few slick spots on the back road, but nothing to make us turn around. The interstate was great. (75 MPH Great) I bought a new phone from Jesse. One of my students wanted my phone. So, I sold it to him for $50 less than I was buying the new one from Jesse. I had the Cingular 8525 Pocket PC. I bought an 8925 Tilt. Sweet phone/PDA/Pocket PC.
We came back home and chilled the rest of the day, mostly.
We hit a few slick spots on the back road, but nothing to make us turn around. The interstate was great. (75 MPH Great) I bought a new phone from Jesse. One of my students wanted my phone. So, I sold it to him for $50 less than I was buying the new one from Jesse. I had the Cingular 8525 Pocket PC. I bought an 8925 Tilt. Sweet phone/PDA/Pocket PC.
We came back home and chilled the rest of the day, mostly.
So, what did I do to commemorate one of the hardest days of my life?
I lived. I did the daily things that make a life. I did the one thing Dad wanted me to do: to go on living.
I am doing that again today. I am fairly sure I will do it again tomorrow. I hope to do it for a while yet.
Every day, I miss him. Every day, something he has done or said affects some part of my life. Every day, I live, and in doing so, he lives, through me.
Every day, I miss him. Every day, something he has done or said affects some part of my life. Every day, I live, and in doing so, he lives, through me.
I miss you terribly, dad.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
V Day approaches ...
and of course, the romantics in us all clamor for attention.
I told TJ that I had an unfair advantage as a poet in the personal gifts department. I had to do something spectacular, therefore.
Here is what I did: I took a black box that a pocketwatch came in and decorated it with sand, and fish on the sides all around. I put stars on the top lid. On the lid inside, I put some 3D roses with stems stickers. Then I put hearts and stars (little hard cardboard ones from the WalMart craft aisle) inside the box.
Now, just in case you are totally confused as to the signifigance of all these things, here is the poem I wrote for her:
The Day of My Valentine
So many days
So many ways
I love you
But there is a day coming
That I am expected to show you
Just how much I love you
To accomplish this,
I must bring you the oceans
And, I mustn’t forget the stars
Nor the heavens, which contain them
I must bring you
The essence of laughter
The soul of tears
And the plethora of everything between
If I try to bring to you
All the things you have brought to me
The oceans bed, now empty
Will not hold them
The heavens expanse, now devoid of stars
Cannot contain them
As the oceans tide lays down
And the stars fade from view
The love you have given to me
Still roars against the shore
And shines out above the rest
What can I give
To show the depth and breadth
How can I clarify
What words cannot describe
How can I
In one unabridged attempt
Show the overflowing of my heart
From the infilling of your love
What hope do I have
Except to know
That you know
Already ….
The ocean in the blue of my eyes
The stars in their sparkle
The laughter and the tears
That we have mixed
And the simple truth of the love we share
It just is … and that is enough … always
Ron
To my ‘Heart & Soul’
February 12, 2008
Happy Valentines Day to everyone.
I told TJ that I had an unfair advantage as a poet in the personal gifts department. I had to do something spectacular, therefore.
Here is what I did: I took a black box that a pocketwatch came in and decorated it with sand, and fish on the sides all around. I put stars on the top lid. On the lid inside, I put some 3D roses with stems stickers. Then I put hearts and stars (little hard cardboard ones from the WalMart craft aisle) inside the box.
Now, just in case you are totally confused as to the signifigance of all these things, here is the poem I wrote for her:
The Day of My Valentine
So many days
So many ways
I love you
But there is a day coming
That I am expected to show you
Just how much I love you
To accomplish this,
I must bring you the oceans
And, I mustn’t forget the stars
Nor the heavens, which contain them
I must bring you
The essence of laughter
The soul of tears
And the plethora of everything between
If I try to bring to you
All the things you have brought to me
The oceans bed, now empty
Will not hold them
The heavens expanse, now devoid of stars
Cannot contain them
As the oceans tide lays down
And the stars fade from view
The love you have given to me
Still roars against the shore
And shines out above the rest
What can I give
To show the depth and breadth
How can I clarify
What words cannot describe
How can I
In one unabridged attempt
Show the overflowing of my heart
From the infilling of your love
What hope do I have
Except to know
That you know
Already ….
The ocean in the blue of my eyes
The stars in their sparkle
The laughter and the tears
That we have mixed
And the simple truth of the love we share
It just is … and that is enough … always
Ron
To my ‘Heart & Soul’
February 12, 2008
Happy Valentines Day to everyone.
Monday, January 28, 2008
been on hiatus
sorry about the long gap.
Things have been busy around the house and then when it isn't, there really isn't much to say. I have been using much of my free time to gather and organize my poems into some publishable format. I have managed to gather 175 or so of my works.
Things at home are relatively calm.
I will post more later.
Things have been busy around the house and then when it isn't, there really isn't much to say. I have been using much of my free time to gather and organize my poems into some publishable format. I have managed to gather 175 or so of my works.
Things at home are relatively calm.
I will post more later.
Friday, January 11, 2008
yes, it has been 9 days
Here are the highlights:
Been sick with cold/flu thing. I missed Friday due to sickness.
State Program Assessment visit at the school on the 9th .. worked 5 hours overtime on Monday and Tuesday getting ready for it.
High winds blew off part of the guttering and siding, exposing a fascia board that needs to be replaced as well. Sounds like fun for me and the insurance company.
I have been working on organizing my poetry. I have 175 pieces of work in a notebook, so far. We are seriously considering doing the publishing thing.
Other than that, it has been the usual stuff, sleep, eat, beat kids, etc, etc.
State Program Assessment visit at the school on the 9th .. worked 5 hours overtime on Monday and Tuesday getting ready for it.
High winds blew off part of the guttering and siding, exposing a fascia board that needs to be replaced as well. Sounds like fun for me and the insurance company.
I have been working on organizing my poetry. I have 175 pieces of work in a notebook, so far. We are seriously considering doing the publishing thing.
Other than that, it has been the usual stuff, sleep, eat, beat kids, etc, etc.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
New Year off and running
2008 is off and running.
We were glad to see 2007 go. There was so much heartache in it. It is not the we would erase the year, but it would have been nice to spread the sorrow out of a decade rather than 8 months.
Of course, not to be left out, 2008 had to get in it's kick.
Last night as she was getting ready for bed, one of C's friends had to call her and tell her about a mutual friend/classmate that hung himself over a girl not liking him. C had a hard time with it for a bit, then she rebounded. She has decided that no one should have the right to do that to their friends. No one has the right to impose such hurt on their friends and family. She agrees that it is a totally selfish thing to do.
Poor C, she feels things so deeply and is so quick to try to figure out how she could have prevented or changed things. There are just some things you cannot do anything about.
My Dad pastored a church and led a small religious organization while I was growing up. I remember a pastor in Columbus, Ohio, that had a conversation with Dad once while I was with him. It went something like this:
Poor C, she feels things so deeply and is so quick to try to figure out how she could have prevented or changed things. There are just some things you cannot do anything about.
My Dad pastored a church and led a small religious organization while I was growing up. I remember a pastor in Columbus, Ohio, that had a conversation with Dad once while I was with him. It went something like this:
Pastor JG: You know, some of my people think I am Jesus Christ.
Dad: How so ?
Pastor JG: They bring me their problems like I can just fix them all.
Dad: I see.
Pastor JG: You know, the worst thing about that is that sometimes I think I am Jesus Christ as well. because I will take them and try to fix them.
Most things are outside the realm of our control. I can control, with some success, my own life. Even that is a tenuous control. When I drive to work, I control my driving, but not the driving of the 1000 or so that I will drive beside or pass on my way to work and back. In that, if one were looking statistically, I have about a .1% amount of control. I control my actions at school, but have little or no control over the actions of the 300 students that visit our small technical school each day. Again, statistically I have about .33% amount of control.
It is better at home in the control factor, but there are outside influences that i have no control over. I cannot control the weather. I cannot control those that drive by my house each day.
That is something C needs to learn. She is responsible for how she acts or reacts. She is answerable for her actions. The actions of her friends, however hurtful, are outside her realm of control or responsibility.
She says that her strength is a reflection of those that love her. She is a smart kid.
Happy 2008 to all.
It is better at home in the control factor, but there are outside influences that i have no control over. I cannot control the weather. I cannot control those that drive by my house each day.
That is something C needs to learn. She is responsible for how she acts or reacts. She is answerable for her actions. The actions of her friends, however hurtful, are outside her realm of control or responsibility.
She says that her strength is a reflection of those that love her. She is a smart kid.
Happy 2008 to all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)