I have no answers and I will do no preaching…….

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

NOTE:     Anyone who has children, grandchildren, nieces or nephews and for that matter, anyone with a soul shuddered when we heard the tragic news that came out of Chardon.  Sometimes thoughts and prayers are the best we can do.  Make sure to hug somone you love today. 

On June 26, 1970, my father died in my arms in our driveway in Euclid, Ohio.  I had just turned 14.  For the next 44 years, there was a void in my life that at times was as big and loud as a train tunnel and other times a memory fade in bits and pieces. 

Not having grandparents, I had brothers and a sister, but because I was an “oops” baby, they were much older, distant and disconnected from my life.  (I re-established with two brothers later in life and wished I hadn’t wasted those earlier years).  My mother was a loving mother but became very sick as I got older.  I was a 14 year old boy smack dab in the headlights of puberty and I couldn’t help growing up and living my life with a bit of a “chip on my shoulder”.  In reality, I was jealous of my friends (and some extended family) who had paternal support system to ask for help in time of need and other times, just to be a friend. 

I remembered once as a kid, I was playing football in the front yard of Upson Elementary (soon to be demolished/replaced).  As a kid of 12 or 13, I was no different than the other kids.  I thought it was cool to cuss and use those words that today, are all too familiar.  I remember that after an especially hard tackle (yeah, we did that with no equipment), I jumped up and let loose a vile and profane Quentin-Tarantino type barrage of curse words (none of which I had EVER heard my parents say).  Suddenly, I had that feeling of being watched (not unlike what I was warned about in Sunday school) and I looked across the street and saw my Dad in the parking lot of the delicatessen, watching me with this crestfallen look on his face.  I couldn’t have slapped him harder in the face.  We never talked about it.  I never wanted to disappoint him again.  My dad had never watched me play ANY kind of sports prior to that day, nor any after, up to that summer June morning. 

In those 44 years since, I made some extraordinarily good life decisions.  The best of those good decisions was getting married and staying married to the same wonderful woman for the last (almost) 35 years.  Another was the 3 marvelous children my wife (yes, my wife) raised with only cursory input from me.  I spent way too much time away from home to have been a significant, positive influence in their life.

But I have also made some monumentally bad decisions and they are the ones that haunt me and occasionally wake me up in the middle of the night.    Why I made them and how I survived the outcome of most of them, I don’t know.   I want to tell you about the Grace of God, but I promised I wouldn’t preach.  However, I learned to accept the consequences that come along with making bad decisions.   And every step of the way, I felt my dad watching from across the street.  I’d get a “thumbs up” on the good decisions and the crestfallen look on the bad ones.   Unfortunately, it didn’t stop me from making those bad decisions, but it vividly reminded me of the responsibility and accountability I had to accept and the consequences of those actions. 

How does this connect in any way, shape or form to the tragedy in Chardon?...I don’t know…If there is ever a final analysis to this horrendous event, I can assure it won’t be one simple explanation.  What we will here is:

• He had a troubled up bringing
• His parents had issues
• Bullying played a part in his school experience
• Warning signs (i.e. cries for help) were ignored
• Possible abuse of alcohol/drugs

I must be brutally honest.  Growing up, I knew many kids, present company included, with some of the above issues (and sometimes many more), yet they turned out relatively respectable.  Well, at least they didn’t go on a killing rampage.

We live in a desensitized society where we deify criminally and morally flawed athletes and entertainers because they excel at a sport or they produce beautiful music yet are bankrupt of integrity and personal control.

Where is our moral compass? There are those that believe people are basically good and will tell you that this is an aberration.  And then again, there are people who believe that man is basically evil and he is just doing what he does best

 Did the Chardon gunman have anyone standing across the street watching him, forcing him to be accountable for his upcoming actions?  We want so badly to identify the cause (s) in hopes of preventing it from happening again.  But maybe we can’t.

I don’t know, I don’t have the answers…………….By the way, to this day, my dad  is NEVER standing alone to watch me, but then again, I said I wasn’t going to preach…………..

 

I have no answers and I will do no preaching…….

NOTE:     Anyone who has children, grandchildren, nieces or nephews and for that matter, anyone with a soul shuddered when we heard the tragic news that came out of Chardon.  Sometimes thoughts and prayers are the best we can do.  Make sure to hug somone you love today. 

On June 26, 1970, my father died in my arms in our driveway in Euclid, Ohio.  I had just turned 14.  For the next 44 years, there was a void in my life that at times was as big and loud as a train tunnel and other times a memory fade in bits and pieces. 

Not having grandparents, I had brothers and a sister, but because I was an “oops” baby, they were much older, distant and disconnected from my life.  (I re-established with two brothers later in life and wished I hadn’t wasted those earlier years).  My mother was a loving mother but became very sick as I got older.  I was a 14 year old boy smack dab in the headlights of puberty and I couldn’t help growing up and living my life with a bit of a “chip on my shoulder”.  In reality, I was jealous of my friends (and some extended family) who had paternal support system to ask for help in time of need and other times, just to be a friend. 

I remembered once as a kid, I was playing football in the front yard of Upson Elementary (soon to be demolished/replaced).  As a kid of 12 or 13, I was no different than the other kids.  I thought it was cool to cuss and use those words that today, are all too familiar.  I remember that after an especially hard tackle (yeah, we did that with no equipment), I jumped up and let loose a vile and profane Quentin-Tarantino type barrage of curse words (none of which I had EVER heard my parents say).  Suddenly, I had that feeling of being watched (not unlike what I was warned about in Sunday school) and I looked across the street and saw my Dad in the parking lot of the delicatessen, watching me with this crestfallen look on his face.  I couldn’t have slapped him harder in the face.  We never talked about it.  I never wanted to disappoint him again.  My dad had never watched me play ANY kind of sports prior to that day, nor any after, up to that summer June morning. 

In those 44 years since, I made some extraordinarily good life decisions.  The best of those good decisions was getting married and staying married to the same wonderful woman for the last (almost) 35 years.  Another was the 3 marvelous children my wife (yes, my wife) raised with only cursory input from me.  I spent way too much time away from home to have been a significant, positive influence in their life.

But I have also made some monumentally bad decisions and they are the ones that haunt me and occasionally wake me up in the middle of the night.    Why I made them and how I survived the outcome of most of them, I don’t know.   I want to tell you about the Grace of God, but I promised I wouldn’t preach.  However, I learned to accept the consequences that come along with making bad decisions.   And every step of the way, I felt my dad watching from across the street.  I’d get a “thumbs up” on the good decisions and the crestfallen look on the bad ones.   Unfortunately, it didn’t stop me from making those bad decisions, but it vividly reminded me of the responsibility and accountability I had to accept and the consequences of those actions. 

How does this connect in any way, shape or form to the tragedy in Chardon?...I don’t know…If there is ever a final analysis to this horrendous event, I can assure it won’t be one simple explanation.  What we will here is:

• He had a troubled up bringing
• His parents had issues
• Bullying played a part in his school experience
• Warning signs (i.e. cries for help) were ignored
• Possible abuse of alcohol/drugs

I must be brutally honest.  Growing up, I knew many kids, present company included, with some of the above issues (and sometimes many more), yet they turned out relatively respectable.  Well, at least they didn’t go on a killing rampage.

We live in a desensitized society where we deify criminally and morally flawed athletes and entertainers because they excel at a sport or they produce beautiful music yet are bankrupt of integrity and personal control.

Where is our moral compass? There are those that believe people are basically good and will tell you that this is an aberration.  And then again, there are people who believe that man is basically evil and he is just doing what he does best

 Did the Chardon gunman have anyone standing across the street watching him, forcing him to be accountable for his upcoming actions?  We want so badly to identify the cause (s) in hopes of preventing it from happening again.  But maybe we can’t.

I don’t know, I don’t have the answers…………….By the way, to this day, my dad  is NEVER standing alone to watch me, but then again, I said I wasn’t going to preach…………..

 

BORN in the USA

I continue to bask in the glow of my first grandchild (Delaney Joanne McCullough) born on January 16, 2012. But this blog has been welling up inside me and it’s time to give birth to my insights on babies, hospitals, deliveries and even a little about grandparents.

When Delaney is old enough, she will know that waiting for her to arrive (in the Waiting Room) were BOTH sets of grandparents, her aunts and her second cousin, who will probably be referred to as an "aunt" to avoid lengthy family tree explanations. My family is notorious for calling friends and close acquaintances as "Aunt" or "Uncle". Apparently, we don’t want to confuse the little ones by introducing non-blood folk as "Hey Delaney, this is the dude that was doing body shots off your aunt last week in a bar", or "Delaney, I want you to meet Sabrina. Your uncle un-stuck her from a pole at the Executives Den a few months ago". Delaney won’t care as long as there’s a little something in the envelope or presents under the tree from these folks.

Miracle of BIRTH? Yes.The VISUAL of BIRTH, No!......I mentioned in a FaceBook posting that Delaney entered our world through God’s doorway. I meant every sentimental word of it. But now let’s get to reality. My wife gave birth to three wonderful girls. I was there for all three. I witnessed their ACTUAL entry into the world ZERO TIMES!..Being in Law Enforcement for over 30 years, I witnessed the birth of 2 babies unexpectedly. Now I gotta tell ya, I am a BIG fan of the mature adult female form. But any man who tells you that witnessing the VISUAL of birth doesn’t remind him of (pick any) ALIEN movies, well that just means he never saw those classics.

The two times I was an unwilling observer as a cop, I expected to see Sigourney Weaver as Ripley hanging around. Regardless, there is always some family member or actual participant that feels the need to capture this on film for some sort of perverse posterity. No question the baby being born certainly is God’s gift. However, the accompanying bouillabaisse of "YEECH" and "BLEECH" that are discarded may well be the wrapping and bows.

No Lie…..While in the waiting room, a "clan" of maybe 9 people came in that I swear to God all looked like Cletus from the Simpsons cartoon. The apparent matriarch of the clan was so Uber-Pregnant that she looked like a Rocky Mountain tick ready to bust. She went to the intercom (where you have to be buzzed into the delivery area) and she said, "Yeah, I’m here for my 11:30 caesarian". She appeared in a hurry and I couldn’t help but think she had to get back to K-Mart because she only had an hour for lunch.

A note to my wonderful son-in-law, Sean……….Upon changing my oldest daughter for the first few times (who also happens to be Sean’s wife), I was very nervous and scared. Changing a little baby girl’s diapers for the first 100 times can be somewhat intimidating. If they deposited a "veggie burger like pattie", it was quite an easy clean up. However, whenever the formula changed or the diet changed or their poor little tummies were upset, then that could mean a crap-grenade of epic proportion. The first few times I had to clean this haz-mat area up, my wife became extremely impatient at my very delicate, unsure and un-intrusive way of wiping. After her repeated verbal drilling of "front to back", it was now just a matter of getting a disinfectant wipe into the "nooks and crannies" just like an English Muffin. In having to do this, I was praying that I would not scar my baby for life or that she would bring up some repressed memory of this to a shrink or, God forbid, she join Sabrina up on stage. From that day forward, I would NEVER be a fan of the Brazilian wax thing.

………..To my Mandy, who had the best example in the world to be a fantastic mommy..why does 80% of the hundreds of photos we have already of Delaney show her naked? Please refer to the above paragraph.

What’s in a name?..........I have been kidding my beautiful bride and newly ordained grandma, Joanne about her nickname. She hopes Delaney will call her Granma JoJo. I had to explain to her that a JOJO is a "seasoned French fry". And besides, she said, "What’s in a name?"……..We both laughed til I remembered about 15 years ago when my nephew told me about how he and a couple of college roommates were playing corn-hole. I still haven’t recovered from that…………………