Happy Fathers' Day

I love my dad. He is a mellow, easy-going guy who happens to be very handy with tools and very health conscious. At 81, he still has a full head of thick, silver hair and a small waistline. He jogs twice a day, about 1 1/4 mi. each time. He works in the garden and loves listening to (and playing) big band and jazz, as well as classical and modern hymn variations. He has diabetes which he controls through a strict diet regimen. This has caused him to cast aside one of his favorite mottos: "life is short; eat dessert first."

Fact is, life hasn't been short. It has been long and full. When he was told that he had prostate cancer and that it had already spread to the bones, he basically shrugged and said, "We'll see".
He planned his funeral years ago and isn't afraid to die. After all, "to die is gain", in the words of St. Paul. No, Dad is more concerned with the quality of life at this point. He is going to fight all the way to the end, whether that end is the elimination of the cancer through natural and alternative therapies or death from the disease. His goal is to find something that will ease the last days/weeks of someone's life. His doctors are already amazed by the lack of signs he shows of the cancer.

I am just happy to have the chance to wish him another happy Fathers' Day.

HAPPY FATHERS' DAY, RICHARD MARSHALL DAVIES!

Culture Shocked

I live in a mixed neighborhood, in every sense of the word. It is ethnically mixed; mostly black but we have white, Asian and Hispanic neighbors as well. There are households that seem to be run by teens and other places inhabited solely by "grandmas and grandpas", as my kids call them. Some homes are picture perfect to look at and others look totally uncared for. Some folks are friendly and wave as we drive by while others make rude gestures. I don't really like the neighborhood because I feel like we live right on top of other people and I don't particularity enjoy sharing the air space--especially when it is filled with rap music or people arguing.

Within the space of a week I've encountered two new situations that have certainly enlightened me about myself if not the neighborhood. On a Sunday night I arrived back in Indy from weekend in GR. The ride home was awful; tornado force winds and torrential downpours and my engine light blazing. In Indy, it was a hot, clear night and loads of people were standing around on the sidewalks, which run six feet from the fronts of the town houses. I pulled into my parking space and a couple was standing directly in front of me, arguing loudly. The guy shoved the gal and then slapped her. They moved into the open space next to me and he pushed her to the ground. The frustration of the ride and the jerks behavior got the better of me. I threw open the van door and yelled in my most threatening voice, "BACK OFF OR I CALL THE POLICE! Take your bad language and get out from in front of my house!"

Hmmm...hind sight says that that was a risky thing to do but I would do it again. My territory has been established and at least one rule laid down. I notice now that when I pull in, the guy with the booming base two doors down turns down his stereo. I have established boundaries in behavior, if nothing else.

I think I met a drug dealer last Wednesday. A neighbor stopped by as I was leaving the lot with Blaise and Camber. She said that a group of people was passing out free cartons of milk and juice from a van if I turned right at the first stop sign I came to on the way out of the complex. I had to go that way anyway so I got to the corner and started looking for the van. I saw two vans and as I slowed down to get a better look, a woman motioned me to pull to the side of the road. Sticking her head in the van window, she began whispering so quietly that I couldn't hear a thing. I said, "I'm sorry, I can't hear you. I'm looking for a van that's passing things out. Do you know where it is?" She got a little louder and asked me what I wanted. "Well, what is there?'', I asked. She looked a bit confused, saying, "What do you mean, 'what is there'? The regular stuff!" Okay, now I needed to be really specific as it began to dawn on me what she must be referring to. I said, "A van was supposed to be here at this corner passing out free cartons of milk and juice." "Oh that," she said. "You should've made a left at the corner."

Well, now I know for sure where NOT to let my kids play. Blaise is very disappointed because he has a friend two doors down from there. It's sad to think of all the neighborhoods across this country that are like this one. Both good and bad elements exist but it's the bad that will determine the rules we make and precautions we take.

Shotgun, anyone?

I was always under the impression that birds began to sing as the sun was about to appear on the horizon. Their cheerful chorus would begin a person's day on a happy, upbeat note and give him energy to face the world in a positive manner. Fool romanticism I say now!

We sleep with the windows open rather than depend on the air conditioner. This has never been a problem before we moved here. There is a large oak tree right outside our bedroom window and it seems to attract the particularily obnoxious early risers in the avian world. The stupid things are singing before 3 a.m. some mornings and sound like they're sitting on the window ledge! I find myself thinking longingly of Elmer Fudd with a shotgun in hand saying "I'm going to bwast you, you varmint!"