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Pay No Attention To That Man Behind the Curtain

Posted: August 25th, 2010, 11:30am EDT by Eric

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If you’ve ever seen the Wizard of Oz, you might remember when the Great and Powerful Oz tells Dorothy and her companions to ignore the man behind the curtain.

Note that the video will ask you to go directly to YouTube for viewing.

This scene is curious to me, because the man behind the curtain, as you know, is the man running the special effects machine that creates the Great and Powerful Oz. In reality, the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz is merely a man standing behind a curtain. Luckily for Dorothy and her friends, the Wizard of Oz really isn’t a bad man, just a “very bad wizard.”

In our world, there are some really good wizards, or more specifically, people very good at playing the “man behind the curtain.”

Today, while pondering my next writing adventure, I came to think about my experiences with religion. I don’t write about those experiences all too often, frankly because I don’t think about them all the time. Today was different.

Earlier, while in deep thought thinking about characters and stories, I played out a scene in my head where a man was approached by a member of a predominate religion in his geographic location, asked if he’d ever considered joining that dominant religion. Like in my own life, the character in my thought HAD been a member of the religion, but had left it on his own search for truth. The scene made me think about how things happened in my own life.

When some people discover I left the LDS religion, one of the first questions they ask is, “what caused you to leave?”

That question is difficult for me to answer. There are so many reasons why I left the Mormon church. Some of them are closely related to why I joined in the first place. Other reasons are based on logical reasoning. And a few reasons, quite honestly, are because I actually read what I was being asked to read and ponder on.

I was a gospel doctrine teacher for the LDS church in my ward, or congregation. Basically, I was a Sunday school teacher. I taught the young adults from 12 up until they turned 18, and I did so for close to two years. But in the LDS church, you teach the Old Testament one year, the New Testament the next, and the Book of Mormon and related works the third, starting over again after that. The lessons are prepared by the church itself and laid out in a manual, created some time in advance for that year.

The LDS church expressly tells its teachers to stick to quoting church leadership from the past 30 years - no earlier. They also tell you to follow the lesson material closely - no deviation.

My first year of teaching, I taught the Book of Mormon year. I’d been put into that teaching position (or calling, within the church), in the middle of the year. I missed the Book of Mormon itself, and was teaching the Doctrines and Covenants, a collection of religious cannon chronicling the days of the church’s founder, Joseph Smith - in many ways, intended to be the modern-day word of God on Earth. Therefore, it is not only written in a religious tone, it is considered some of the most revealing and reverent works within the LDS church.

I taught the material through the end of the year, and moved on to the Old Testament. I taught it from an LDS-viewpoint, which meant a lot of scripture from the Bible was overlooked in favor of the lesson material and each week’s specific lecture topic.

But I started reading between specific scripture quotes. I read from the recommended passage to the next, skipping nothing. And gaining everything.

Somewhere, between each lesson’s bullet points, I started piecing together a different view of the Old Testament than what the LDS church provides to it’s members. Sometimes, the points made in a lesson actually had little to do with the quoted scripture. If a passage mentioned something like the “Rod from the stem of Jesse,” the church automatically placed Joseph Smith at the end of that Rod, with Jesus somewhere in between. To most other religions, the “Rod from the stem of Jesse” refers specifically to Jesus only. Naturally, when a church tells you that its founder descends from Jesus, you want to believe it. The problem is, the church tell you what is right. There is no other interpretation. Anyone who disagrees is wrong. The man behind the curtain told you to ignore the man behind the curtain, and you want to listen.

I could spend a long time giving you examples of scriptures quoted with different meanings than intended, lessons which omitted HUGE topics (look up Nephilim from WITHIN the LDS church, and you’ll find that Joseph Smith talked about them, but since he lived more than 30 years ago, cannot be quoted or taught within the very church he founded), discourses given by old LDS prophets that differ from more modern LDS prophets, and so much more. A believer in the man behind the curtain will tell you that times have changed, or that we know more now. That same person could stand up in church a week later and tell you that God is firm and wise (and doesn’t change his mind - he just changes the rules).

Living within this system, there no way you can be wrong.

And I came to feel the church was wrong. It’s a good organization. They help a lot of people, and bring so many people hope when there might not be any otherwise. But the price of bringing the best parts of the LDS church into your life come at the cost of being told what to believe, even when your eyes see otherwise. You see the man behind the curtain, but you have to look the other way when he uses his booming voice and special effects to tell you to pay him no mind.

Unfortunately, I stuck it out. I stayed a member of the church. I looked the other way. I rationalized away what I’d seen with what I’d been told. It took me years and other circumstances to finally free myself and pull open that curtain to find the “very good at what he does” wizard behind it.

The character in my mind has the insight to know better, and lives within a society where is he is the outsider. But he is an outsider with intimate knowledge of the inside. Those around him do not know this - they merely see someone who does not believe. They don’t see the man as someone who actually knows. And the only reason they can’t see the true man is because they’re told that they have the answers when my character does not. They have been deceived by their own man, behind his own curtain, running his own special effects machine.

In work of writing, such a character has unknown power over those around him. In some way, he also becomes a wizard of sorts. Unlike those around him, though, he is a man running his machine with the curtain OPEN.

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.
Lorem Ipsum

Posted: August 13th, 2010, 12:49pm EDT by Eric

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Lorem ipsum

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.
Rolling in Someone Else's Shoes

Posted: August 8th, 2010, 12:52pm EDT by Eric

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For more than two months, I’ve been getting around the house, store, doctor’s offices, and the car using crutches.

At first, I started out with borrowed crutches from my mother-in-law. There were way too short for me. Using them, I looked like a rag doll strung out between two sticks.

Then, my doctor gave me a prescription for crutches made for my size. They were much better than the borrowed ones, but it took me some time to find a height that was comfortable. Only a couple weeks after getting them, I was walking crutching in the back yard and forgot that when we moved into this house that there was a large bird house on a pole in front of the shed. I subsequently found the end of my left crutch in the hole, and my body weight breaking it like a toothpick as I fell to the ground.

I was back on borrowed crutches for a couple days, until the next doctor visit and a second set of new crutches.

The other day, in the middle of a three-day thunderstorm, I was crutching through the garage after an errand run, and the crutch slipped on water, bringing me down between a shelf and our car. I was close to fitting the concrete step. After that incident, I noticed that the rubber feet on my crutches are almost entirely worn down. Luckily, I had the older pair of crutches with better feet to replace the worn out ones.

A couple weeks back, Jill and I were near Park City, Utah, and decided to squeeze in some shopping at a Tanger Outlet Mall. It immediately dawned on me that using crutches wasn’t a viable option, so we found the mall management office and borrowed a wheelchair. It made navigating the stores much easier. However, we forgot that the outdoor mall was on a slight hill. That slight hill suddenly became a mountain, with Jill pushing my heavy carcass in that well-worn in wheelchair. We didn’t do much shopping that day.

While being confined to home or places with motorized scooters for shopping, it’s become increasingly obvious that we needed to get a wheelchair. There are places I just can’t go to unless it’s a quick stop. Even a cozy drug store is a big ordeal for me. And with the need to get out, back to school shopping on the horizon, and picking up family at the airport in the next couple weeks, I needed to get a wheelchair.

At first, I was going to rent one. The price was less than convenient. Buying one is even worse, and I don’t think my injury would warrant one through insurance.

However, it turns out that Jill’s grandfather, who is no longer with us, had a wheelchair, and it’s been sitting in storage for about eight years. After reminding my in-laws a couple times about it, they finally picked it up and brought it to me. My mother-in-law and her family were more than happy to lend it to us.

I never had the chance to meet Jill’s grandfather. I’ve seen his picture on the wall. More so, I’ve experienced his legacy. Their annual family reunion is something he started and fostered over the years. The reunion as it is today is in memory of the man, not just a continuation of the tradition he started. And naturally, his influence is found in my the whole family, from my in-laws, to extended family, to my wife and her siblings.

In some way, using his wheelchair is a small chance to know the man. I get to walk - or roll, as it were - in his shoes.

I think he and I would have gotten along well. From what I understand of talking to family about him, he was an inventive and creative man. He had that tinkerer mentality, and enjoyed trying to find a way to make something work. When he saw an opportunity, he took it. He exemplified some of the same characteristics I have, or wish to foster.

In some small way, I also feel like I have a chance to be closer to my new extended family.

It’s amazing how borrowing a simple wheelchair makes one contemplative of the people who walked before you.

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.
Ham Radio Debate: To Tech or Not To Tech

Posted: July 31st, 2010, 2:17pm EDT by Eric

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There is discussion on CQ Magazine’s Facebook page concerning the incorporation of other electronic fields into the world of amateur radio. The conversation can be found here. Some people feel that amateur radio is a hobby that should almost solely be focused on radio. Others feel there is plenty of room for other interests, and if nothing else, new enthusiasts might be drawn into the radio hobby through those interests.

I’ve touched on this topic a bit in some of the posts on my regular blog.

Here’s how I see things.

First, ham radios numbers have changed. Most people will tell you that the number of licensed amateur radio operators had decreased over the years. I am having trouble finding those statistics. Sometimes I wonder if people notice the number of active operators has decreased, while the actual number of operators hasn’t changed to match perception. As operators pass on, licenses forfeited from disuse, and new operators come into the hobby, the number of hams in the US will always change. Right now, there are 58,800 more hams in 2010 then there were about the same time in 2004.

The biggest change seems to be in age. It’s hard to find actual age numbers, but the average age of amateur radio operators appear to be in their 40s. CQ Magazine recently did a survey of their “fans” on Facebook and found the average age was 45. Granted, this is Facebook we’re talking about, but still, amateur radio operators are not the major demographic of Facebook, and yet of 3500 hams connected to CQ Magazine on Facebook, the average age is about 20-30 years older than the average Facebook user’s age. As the older generations shrink in population, the hams who joined the hobby within the last 20 years are now between their 30s and 50s. This makes for a younger mix of people.

Technology has changed. I can’t give you actual “figures” on how things have changed, but 20 years ago some of the radio technologies we use today were cutting edge. Digital modes are commonplace now. Computer integration is still in it’s early stages, but worlds apart from how lightly computers were used in the radio hobby in the 1990s.

With everything changing, and a lot of change with similar technologies outside of amateur radio, you would imagine radio on the cutting edge of discovery more now than ever.

But it’s not.

Amateur radio has it’s cutting edge, for sure. But compared to the rest of the electronic world, cutting edge in amateur radio often seems like child’s play.

The things that the commercial wireless telecommunications world are wolds apart from amateur radio, even though both utilize some of the same basic practices of radio technology. Amateur radio doesn’t influence commercial cell phones - cell phones influence and change radio, instead.

For instance, who really needs a radio phone patch these days, given the dominance of the cell phone industry? I recall using radios that seem archaic to today’s standards, which often feel more like phone components than radio rigs. A new radio today is much more user-friendly, consumer-friendly, and feature-rich - all due to changes in electronics, which are primarily led by the cell phone industry.

With all this in mind, one might wonder what robotics, computers, and other electronics have to do with amateur radio. Some will even tell you they have no part in the world of radio. I feel otherwise.

I believe that radio communications will always be the primary function of the radio hobby. But excluding other technologies because they are not inherently radio-related is a very short-sighted mistake.

Where would modern digital radio communications be without the computer? It would barely exist.

Who’s to say there’s no room in radio for robotics, especially when they’re using radio technologies to communicate? Who’s to say that you can’t use the Internet to make a radio connection, when it does such a wonderful job of supplementing the radio hobby in so many ways? Why can’t radio be supplemented by various technologies, instead of dwindling in disuse from exclusion from the rest of the technological hobbies?

It seems to me that amateur radio could use some new “methods” of communication. And they could certainly use the people brought in by inclusion of other hobbies. I, myself, was brought in by an extensive computing and BBSing hobby. At some point, amateur radio was a logical addition to what I was already interested in.

Here’s the biggest reason, as I see it, to include other technologies: innovation.

I was inactive in amateur radio for about ten years. And in those ten years, I’ve seen a lot of change. But I’ve also seen how the hobby has lagged behind the technological edge. This week I’ve been playing with APRS - a cutting-edge technology now as it was ten years ago. However, you would imagine that dozens of new APRS and generic mapping software would have become available. You would expect to see a pretty modern system being used as the technology has progressed. In reality, the software used is archaic. The hardware used is even more ancient. How many computers still have serial connections on them since the advent of USB ten years ago? Despite this, most ham radio hardware, if it even has a computer connection, use really old RS-232 serial cable technology rather than the now old standard of USB connectivity.

Perhaps a little infusion of new technology will bring us more capable radios, more integration with computers, and new formats to try our hands at. I’m shocked that we’re many, many years behind the world of cell phones when all that’s inside the cell phone is a more sophisticated radio device and a miniature computing system. Like ham radio, a cell phone has telephony, digital services, and station-to-station relay. And yet, your average amateur radio isn’t much more advanced than they were a decade ago.

So, in my opinion, the more we can bring to the hobby, the better off it will be. Don’t be so worried about losing sight of radio communications, and be more cognizant of the possibilities with an infusion of new tech.

If you want to regain that cutting edge technology, and if you’d like to see new operators on the air, give other technologies a chance to show how they can fit in with amateur radio.

Remember, we are a hobby of inclusion, nor exclusion.

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.
Mingo Creek Subdivision in Knightdale, North Carolina

Posted: July 22nd, 2010, 7:35pm EDT by Eric

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I don’t often get upset about something. In the past, I’ve been upset about the State of Utah’s liquor laws, and all the new laws they decided to enact these past few years to keep people kids from drinking (which hasn’t actually done anything). I recently got upset when I learned that Utah Highway Patrol was sending officers to watch for Utahns buying fireworks and liquor over the border in Wyoming, then radioing the plates and car description to officers sitting back on the Utah side of the border. This one goes back home to North Carolina, and really bothers me.

Years ago, when I bought a house in Knightdale, I did everything I could to avoid the restrictive covenants 0f homeowner’s associations. You don’t see HOAs in Utah all too much, probably because houses are just plopped down on streets instead of having subdivisions built. A lot of it might also be due to different notions of what a “neighborhood” means in Utah. But in North Carolina, Homeowner’s Associations, with Covenants, Conditions, and Restrictions (CC&Rs) are commonplace and difficult to avoid.

Basically, in an ideal homeowner’s association group, the organization is intended to maintain stability within the neighborhood. This stability is a consistent appearance to protect every neighbor’s property investment. Ideally, the HOA keeps someone from neglecting their yard, filling it with junk, or keeping run down cars from accumulating. The down side is someone living in the neighborhood may not have a choice in the color of their mailbox, the trees in their yard, or the paint on the house. These are minor issues in most cases. For me, avoiding CC&Rs was so I could maintain a ham radio antenna. In the end, I was lucky to buy a house without an association. My close friend Richard, however, was not as fortunate as I was.

Richard lives in Mingo Creek subdivision in Knightdale, North Carolina, which was a nice neighborhood that I might have purchased a home in, if not for the restrictive covenants. Richard and Colleen have been living there for about four years. I always liked that neighborhood. But now, I feel sorry for them.

Their HOA is a joke. The management company, Fred Smith Homes, has the majority representation on the HOA board. There are five seats, two of which are residents of the neighborhood, three of which are appointed employees of the business that manages the HOA dues which are intended to help maintain the neighborhood and the HOA organization. Normally, the management company holds one seat, not the majority. Usually, the neighbors are the ones in charge. It’s funny to think of all the people who complain about their neighbors dictating how their property looks. Trust me it could be worse. It could be what the neighbors of Mingo Creek are dealing with.

Because the management company holds the majority of the seats in the neighborhood, and not the residents, the company calls all the shots. In fact, a majority gets to call an HOA meeting. Or in the case of Mingo Creek, the management company gets to reject and cancel any meeting between them and the residents paying them money.

It gets worse.

On top of improper representation, the residents are being strong armed in the same way a mob “protects” the members of a community by charging them money not to break their legs. In this case, however, the employees of the management company are citing residents for infractions to their Covenants, Conditions, and Restrictions to a severe degree. One neighbor was cited for having her trash cans within visual site of her own driveway and not concealed in the back yard. The woman is handicapped and struggles to move her trashcans to the curb each week, and now she’s being harassed for having them within site of her garage - not the street, mind you, but at the end of the driveway nearest the house.

Another resident was fined for not powerwashing their house to “their” standards.

Neighbors are cited if grass touches the tires of their cars - even an inch is a violation, in their eyes.

And if you want to challenge a citation, you have to visit their office at a specific time and date - 30 miles away.

The two residents actually on the association board are shut out of any “meetings” about their own neighborhood.

In my opinion, this is the HOA gone wrong. This is my worst nightmare come true. While I completely disagree with the “god complex” most HOAs foster, I’ve never heard of the management and maintenance company taking over the way theirs has.

And on top of all this, if you live in the neighborhood, you pay $33 a month for this kind of treatment. $48 if you’re late on your payment. And they can take your house through liens if you refuse.

Seriously, these people are just a short step away from the mob.

I feel so bad for the residents of Mingo Creek.

I hope they organize and fight this to the end. They don’t deserve this kind of treatment. For my part, Mingo Creek residents, you have my complete support. I wish you the best!

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.
In Four Hours (Three Hours Later)

Posted: July 21st, 2010, 8:54pm EDT by Eric

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I passed the exam!

When I started my interest in amateur radio, there were six different classes of licenses, and I started out at one of the lowest. Over the years, my license became the lowest of three. Now I’m in the second class, with only one more left to master.

I’m very happy with myself. The test was easier than I thought. I actually scored better on this test than I had in a month of practicing: 91.4%, or 32 correct out of 35 questions. It was very rewarding.

After accomplishing what I’d set out to do, they asked if I wanted to test for the next level. It wouldn’t cost any more, so I did. If I had correctly answered another 19 questions I would have passed (the next level has 50 questions). But it was nice to leave with what I’d gone in for.

The best part is, I accomplished a task, I completed a goal. If I can do one thing, I can do others. And I really needed to prove that to myself.

And a month from now, I hope to be sitting in the same room passing the last exam.

Back to the practice tests…

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.
In Four Hours

Posted: July 21st, 2010, 2:49pm EDT by Eric

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In less than four hours I will be sitting in the J. Reuben Clark Building on the BYU campus taking a test to advance my amateur radio license. There’s a chance my beard might make it beyond the invisibility filter my crutches will bring.

This is the test I spoke of about a month ago.

I’ve been studying, on and off, for more than a month. Honestly, I was able to learn a lot, but there’s still much that I don’t understand. There isn’t a good online resource for someone wanting to know why the answers are what they are, but loads of sites to tell you how to answer the question.

When I took my first amateur radio exam in October of 1995, there were two parts to the test. I passed the first one, but failed the second one. A month later, I passed the second one. In both cases, I passed off of memorization. I fear that if I pass this test, it will again be due to memorization. I pass most of my practice exams online - barely.

All this studying and testing brings me back to a realization I had a couple months ago when I got back into the hobby.

I barely picked up a microphone in about ten years. With all the advancements we’ve seen in wireless phones, computers, and technology, I expected to be blown away by all the advancements in amateur radio. But I wasn’t.

While much of ham radio has seen advancement, it wasn’t the degree of advancement I expected. When I put down my microphone around 2000, my cell phone was bigger than my portable ham radio unit. Today, my cell phone is large only due to it’s capability as a smartphone, and radios don’t look or function all that differently than they did a decade ago.

Today, I should be able to find a device that doubles as a miniature computer, works wirelessly with other devices, gives me smartphone-like capabilities with different applications, and allow me to plug in different hardware to accomplish multiple tasks. A few radios come close to a shadow of this dream, but nothing really hits the mark. I’m simply disappointed that amateur radio technology is nowhere near what my cell phone is - and they both work on very similar technologies.

So why, with my apparent disappointment, would I bother to take a test giving me the ability (despite the lack of equipment) to do more?

For two major reasons:

First, I set out to do this. I am determined to start, continue, and complete something. Especially while I’m stuck at home on disability, drugged up half the time, and in pain. Especially now. I have a lifetime of incomplete tasks. This was one I wanted to complete fifteen years ago. This is something within my grasp, something which I can show to myself and the world that I actually can accomplish something for myself. If I can finish this, I can finish other things.

Second, I still enjoy amateur radio. I wish the hobby were a little different. The hams in Utah aren’t as conversational as people were in North Carolina. Perhaps I haven’t met the right people yet. Or perhaps I had friends in North Carolina that brought me together with the people I liked talking to. I really wish I had a local radio friend with similar interests to “hang out” with. But the real point is, I want to take this test to be a part of change for amateur radio. If I have to be ambitious and start my own club to do it, I will. If I have to find the most imaginative possibilities for amateur radio, I will seek them out and discover them. I am determined to make it interesting to me, and to those around me. Radio can continue to be an old man’s tinkering, or it can become an everyman’s enjoyment.

And that is why,in four hours, I will take the test. I feel like I’m going against the odds here, but I will make the effort. If I fail, I will try again. If I pass, I will move forward.

There is one more level above the one I’m testing for tonight. There’s the effort to modernize the notion of amateur radio. There’s the indiscriminating nature of the hobby to bring in all walks of people, regardless of color, race, background, education, ability, and religion - something radio operators in Utah seem to have neglected. And on top of that, I have my most powerful skill at my disposal: my voice, both audibly and written - a voice that will make an effort to call for change where needed.

I may not understand all of the technology, but I understand that it takes all types to move the hobby forward. My role will be that of the voice.

.

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.
Part of the Family

Posted: July 20th, 2010, 10:00pm EDT by Eric

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There’s an important part of my family that seems to rarely make its way into my blog posts. These family members are always present, though rarely the subject of my recollections, stories, and comments on life. They sometimes cause a bit of tension in my house, but when they look at you, your heart melts away with the tension. Family sticks with you in life, and these members exemplify that.

I just wish they could let themselves out when they need to relieve themselves.

I have a long history of pets in my life. Most of that history brings a smile to my face. Some of it does not. But their influence on my life is almost as prevalent as my parents, brother, children, or wife.

The earliest pet I can remember was a grandparent’s dog, I believe my mother’s parents’ pet. It was black. The only thing I really remember was the night it died, when my father and someone else had to go out and bury it.

The next per I know of was Precious, a somewhat shaggy and curly grey-haired mixed breed. She had been in the family for all of my earliest years. Admittedly, I didn’t pay much attention to the dog at times, but it was still a part of my every day world. She passed away from old age not long after we moved from New York to North Carolina. I came home one day to find her dead on the kitchen floor. I was devastated.

Another pet we’d had when I was very young, also in New York, was Fizzgig. He was an orange tabby cat. I remember one Christmas when we’d wrapped a cat toy for Christmas and put it under the tree. There was catnip on it, and he zeroed right in on the gift, opening it quickly. He used to be rambunctious and playful. He got hit by a car while trying to cross US Route 9, which our neighborhood was off of. His impact was enough for me to use his name once more on a future pet, as well as a common password in the mid-90s.

The last pet from New York was Bon-Bon. She was a black and white cat, which we’d gotten not long after Fizzgig died. I remember picking her over another cat at a shelter, her being my choice because the other was lacking a tail. I thought something was wrong with the other cat. Now, I know it might have been a manx cat. Or it could have been in an accident. I’ll never know, because Bon-Bon became a familiar sight in my home, and lived for a very, very long time.

In North Carolina, we’d acquired a cat while visiting cousins in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. My brother had decided his name was Boots or something, because his body was dark grey with white feet. I’d called him Cat, or KiKi. I used to lay him down in my lap and play with him for long periods of time. As he grew, he’d often play roughly with me, though he rarely went to far. Others in the family, on the other hand, got torn to shreds by him, namely my mom. In his time, I seemed to become immune to the oils in his claws, which usually cause the skin to bump up. But at the same time, he knew how much I could take before bleeding. He had the oddest meow, which was more of a two-syllable call, and occasionally made a sound that sounded like my name when he was looking for me. In the end, though, he was a bit of a loner, and after I moved out he didn’t seem to recognize me all too much. When he died, he acted like a lonely and somewhat bitter old man who wanted nothing to do with me.

Sometime in my teenage years, my brother and I both got a couple hamsters. My two were males, and I named them Fizzgig and Einstein. Fizzgig was aggressive, and Einstein was reclusive. Fizzgig used to test the joints and doors on my habbitrail. Einstein used to pack food in the exercise wheel and then decide to run in it. While they cohabitated, I learned about the tendency of animals enclosed in the same space for a long period of time to have homosexual encounters, which explained part of the noises going on during the night. The rest of the night, they’d clank on doors, scrape at floors, and spin wheels. I’d hit the top of the habbitrail to get them to stop, which only pissed off Fizzgig and made him more aggressive.

One summer, we went on vacation for a week. I’d put the cage in a room on the third floor, which we didn’t use much. I put a book on top of the lid, which was the only way I kept them from eventually opening the door at the top. In the worst case, I rationalized, they’d be stuck in the room and I could track them down if they got out. Somehow, while I was gone, they managed to knock the book down, open the door, and climb out. During the week, Einstein got wedged between the baseboard and the back of a bed, and couldn’t get out. Fizzgig apparently figured Einstein would make a better meal than a roommate, and acted on that impulse. After finding them, I buried Einstein next to Precious the dog, and captured Fizzgig. He was never the same, and would never let me get close again. That psycho hamster lived for almost another two years before dying of old age.

My parents once adopted a cocker spaniel named Sassy. She loved ice cream and refused to step on grass, usually walking way out of her way to take care of her business out by the street. She died after a couple years, apparently after finding anti-freeze sitting out in the garage.

A raggedy, stray orange tabby adopted us once. At first, we tried to scare it away. In time, it was apparent that the cat had no where to go. We let it live outside for a while, and eventually it found itself inside. T.C. became the poster example of lap cat, and decided my dad made the best lap. The cat was so fond of laps that it would often hang onto your stomach or chest well after you’d gotten up. He wasn’t always welcomed by the other animals, but in time he was tolerated. In time, he also left us.

Just before moving out of my parent’s house, my ex-wife and I purchased a Siberian husky, which we named Sam. Sam was a handful, and then some. A few years later, at his full-size, he’d hear grubs under the grass and turn my yard into a mine field looking to snack on them. He often caught rabbits and birds in the yard. He was very hard to keep contained, being able to climb chainlink fences. When he occasionally got loose from the heavy rope we had to tie him down with, it would take hours to get him back. Eventually, he started trying to kill cats and other animals in the neighborhood, and scared many of the kids in the area. One night, just before moving to Utah, he escaped and attacked a neighbor’s dog. I ended up having to file with my homeowner’s insurance to pay for the medical bills. We eventually realized his best chanced were with a place for huskies, and had the pound remove him. It was a hard decision to make, but probably the right one.

Around the same time, I’d inherited a dog from my cousin Colleen and her husband (my close friend), Richard. The dog was a girl named Buttons. She was hyperactive, but very loving. She enjoyed being around Sam, but wasn’t enough to keep his interested from jumping the fence. We had to leave her with our next-door neighbor when we moved to Utah, as we’d have no place to keep her. The last time I saw her, she was still happy with her new owner.

In North Carolina, we’d also adopted two cats, Abby and Grace. Abby came first, part of a litter from Colleen and Richard. Later, I couldn’t resist the runt of a litter outside of Walmart, which was Grace. I’d attached to Abby the most, much more than I’d attached to an animal in years. Grace was, and still is, a very scared cat who rarely interacts with her own owners. Abby was hit by a car in late 2006. It was a hard thing for me, partially because it was after my first marriage fell apart, but also because she was my favorite of the cats in Utah. It was also very difficult leaving her body behind when we moved from that house. Grace is still with us.

We discovered a black kitten outside my daughter’s preschool, during the summer of 2005. Naturally, we took him home, naming him Boo. Boo has the tendency of finding homes that will think he’s a stray, even causing a former neighbor to adopt him for a short time. After keeping him, I discovered he was a Bombay breed, which is not your average tabby. Someone must have lost him, which doesn’t surprise me, seeing as how he’s followed us on mile-long walks before. Boo is still with us.

In early 2005, my ex-wife decided to get a dog from the pound. The dog was a Lhasa Apso, a Tibettan breed. I suggested the name Harvey, which stuck. He’s been with me through it all, even though he and I didn’t get along well. In 2007, he adopted Jill as his new owner, which worked out well a year later when she moved in and we got married. He and I have had our ins and outs, but he’s been loyal to the family for some time. He’s now a regular in my bed, which I don’t always enjoy, but he loves the family and he’s about as much a part of it as I am.

Today, I was thinking about all the pets in my life. Some of the best and worst times of my life can be traced to my pets. Even more so, some of my best and worst personality traits can be traced back to events involving my pets.

The death of Precious effected me so much that I never really attached to a dog again. Even Harvey, who is the closest dog I’ve been to in all my life, would find himself at arm’s length because of the death of my childhood dog.

The eventual deaths of some of my cats have led me to distance myself from the cats that follow them.

And worst of all, I’ve even questioned my own ability to love a human being based on my inability to love an animal, even though I know the love an animal can bring into your life quite well. I think I know the pain of the loss of a loved animal all too well, too, which leads me to doubt love entirely, even when love lays next to me in the bed or sleeps across the hall.

It amazes me how much of my life has been wrapped up in a pet. It amazed me more how much I have detested - on occasion - that power within my life. And it amazes me the most that I could doubt my own ability to love, pet, spouse, child, or otherwise, simply because I don’t connect with a particular creature.

I can only begin to see the fibers of my life and how they influence everything else, all the way to my present-day personality.

Pets are my past, my present, and my future. Maybe it’s time to get past the loss over the years and allow myself to love them today.

.

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.
I Am Invisible

Posted: July 19th, 2010, 9:20pm EDT by Eric

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Everyone seems to go through a time in their lives when they feel invisible. Kids often feel this, as they are invisible to adults. Sometimes children feel invisible within a family, even past childhood. Some may even feel invisible at work, often a product of their own diligent work ethic overriding their need to mingle and socialize. While I’ve felt each of these in my lifetime, the invisibility I suffer from is much more frustrating, and infinitely more degrading.

I haven’t publicly made much of a fuss about the situation with my foot. Let me officially say that it’s relatively serious, and I’m lucky to have caught it before more damage was done (though I could have worried about it sooner).

As such, I’ve had to resort to various forms of movement when leaving the house. Normally, that means I use my crutches. When I go to a big enough store, I’m lucky to be able to find a motorized scooter. Smaller stores mean I’ll be suffering from severe foot pain in my GOOD foot when I’m done. Visiting someone’s house is manageable, as long as I can sit down quickly. Anything else and I basically plant myself in a chair and try not to move unless necessary.

I seem to get questions from just about anybody asking what happened to me. With as much attention on my foot, you would imagine that people would see me moving around. Unfortunately, most people don’t want to look.

My invisibility is most evident when I’m in a motorized scooter at the store. People won’t look at me. People will hit me with their cart. People will stop in the middle of an aisle with me right on their ass. I’m treated like I don’t exist. To them, I’m invisible.

In fact, the only looks I get seem to be from the few people who can’t believe a younger man, not suffering from severe obesity, needs to be on a scooter. I may not be invisible to them, but their accusing glare makes me wish they’d ignore me the way most others seem to.

You might think I’m overreacting. I invite anyone to accompany me on a shopping trip, or better yet, try it yourself. You may be amazed by how entirely ignorant people are of your existence.

The invisibility isn’t limited to scooters. I’m invisible on my crutches, too. Just today, Jill and I went to a movie. We waited until the theater was nearly empty before leaving. Near the hallway out of the actual theater, a group of five people stood in my way. Jill walked on ahead of me a little, walking by them with normal clearance. I need more than normal clearance with my crutches. They stood there, unmoving, even looking at me. I stood there a moment, waiting. When they didn’t move, I had to crutch sideways to get by them. This happens to me a lot, too.

This past week, I finally asked for a handicap parking tag. For almost two months, we’ve parked halfway down the row of parking spaces. As I painfully crutch to the door, I constantly pass people who seem to bound out of their vehicle and gleefully walk to the door with much more ease than I have.

The last time Jill and I went shopping, she gave the shopping cart a nudge across the lane to the return stall, where I was getting out of the scooter. The cart caught me a little off-guard, and I stumbled while directing the cart into the correct spot. A woman I had just witnessed parking in a handicap stall just happened to have walked to the cart return, laughs at my situation, and tells me (tongue in cheek) I shouldn’t be such an invalid. SHE WALKED TO ME AND AWAY FROM ME JUST FINE.

So, with my new-found ability to park closer and save myself some pain and frustration, you’d think I’d find people who are more considerate of handicapped spots. They aren’t. People who obviously do fine without the permit seem to be the majority of handicap space users. Of the rest who aren’t legitimately using their permit, you find a handful of people who don’t display a tag and walk just fine, or people who don’t bother with the permit at all and park in that space anyway.

The other day we took the family to Costco to grab a few things we needed. I had the rare opportunity to sit in a wheelchair at the store, which was nice. But still, little consideration for the big guy in the wheelchair. I might as well have been half my size, given the way people seemed to notice me.

I’m really sick of it. Time after time I seem to be treated as if I’m not - or shouldn’t be - there.

I don’t feel like there’s anything karmic going on here. I usually see people in wheelchairs, little people, and people with disabilities as people, too. No, I’m not suffering through this because I’m a jerk like many others, I think I’m simply more observant of the fact that many people in my area just don’t give a crap about a person who needs a little extra help to get things done. If I weren’t a keen observer, and was not experiencing it from this level, I might not have noticed as much. Sure, I’ve seen people in wheelchairs get snuffed at doors entering stores. But this is above and beyond.

I’m not invisible, damnit, and you’ve got me close to hitting you with a scooter when you stop suddenly or follow me too closely. Maybe then you’d see me. Maybe a crutch to the foot will help you care.

.

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.
A Difficult Subject to Breach (Reader Be Warned)

Posted: July 18th, 2010, 9:19pm EDT by Eric

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This blog entry may not sit well with some people. You’ve been warned.

Today’s topic is something of a more delicate nature. To be more precise, the topic is of a very egestive nature. Egestive… think opposite of injestive. Look it up. This is your last warning before reading on.

Simply put, I do not understand the need for the “courtesy flush.”

Let me start at the beginning.

Like many others, I’ve had visits to the restroom where I was more considerate of the person in the adjacent stall than to my own bodily functions. It’s embarrassing to be in a public restroom with all of “your business aired for everyone’s consideration.” I get that. Been there and done that.

I understand why people will flush their toilet while… well, while they cause an irritating noise and/or create aromatic distress. To many, it seems courteous to the person behind the aluminum separation. But, I fear, many do it simply out of embarrasement than courtesy. They don’t want people knowing what their business entails at that particular moment. Even though they probably will never see the person sitting, partitioned, next to them. And even if they were to share that awkward moment at the sink while washing hands, they probably won’t make eye contact, and they definitely won’t discuss the sound of your defecation.

That being said, let me tell you where I’ve converged on this topic.

As my years have advanced, the things which I once loathed to discuss have changed. The embarrassments I once suffered have less power over me. More to the point, the things which were important to me, earlier in my more introverted life, are more or less gone.

And so, it is with this new sense of what it means to live in an adult world, I find myself at a loss as to the true purpose of that infamous mid-sedentary act.

First of all, we’re usually adults in that particular situation. Kids, when faced with this scenario, often care less about the whole situation than grown ups do, but the ones who do usually give in to their body’s more pressing need. And in my own particular moments of contemplation, I find myself surrounded by men in similar situations.

But what I do not understand is, why even waste the time and water to cover up something we all know is happening? You’re in the restroom - there are a limited number of possible interactions within the restroom. If you happen to be sitting on a commode, your interactions are even more specific. In other words, I know what you’re doing in the stall next to me. There really isn’t much reason to hide what you’re doing - I’m probably doing the same thing in my own stall.

If you find yourself flushing to remove an emanation rather than a resonance, need I remind you that you’re in the restroom? If there’s ever a place to actually allow that smell to permeate the walls, this would be the room to do it in. I’m not going to confront you about what just happened. We’re in the restroom.

First, it’s the be expected in a restroom (and if you’re not expecting it, there’s something wrong with you). Second, I’m glad it’s happening here, rather than getting a preview while standing behind you at the checkout. Lastly, how can I get on your case about some smell (or noise) you made in the restroom when I was making similar smells (and noises) in the same room?

As far as I can tell, it makes more sense to go ahead and allow a natural process proceed than to delay it’s inevitability with coughing, subtle subterfuge, or water-wasting diversions. The gist of it is is this: we’re both in the bathroom, we know why we’re here, we know what’s happening, so why bother to hide something we both know is happening anyway? Let’s just accept what the restroom, public or private, is for, and move on with life.

Interestingly, for men, these same people have no problem standing inches away from each other at unseparated urinals while they do their business. Yet, for some reason, these same men act like embarrassed school boys when sitting on toilets, where you can’t even see the person next to you.

You don’t owe me any courtesy in the restroom, aside from not sticking your head above (or below) the separation keeping us apart, and not trying to kick my door in while I’m doing my deed.

If you want to be courteous, do us all a favor and WASH YOUR HANDS before you leave the restroom. I don’t understand why there are still people in this society who use a restroom without ever cleaning themselves. As soon as you touched the door, you probably needed to wash your hands, and most likely because of someone else who doesn’t wash their hands.

Shame on you for being more concerned about the sound or the smell coming from your body than the germs spreading from your touch.

.

digg_url = ‘http://aneweric.com/index.php/2010/07/17/a-difficult-subject-to-breach-reader-be-warned?blog=1′; digg_url = digg_url.replace(/amp;/g, ‘’); digg_bgcolor = ‘#FFFFFF’; digg_skin = ‘compact’; digg_title = ‘A Difficult Subject to Breach (Reader Be Warned)’; digg_bodytext = ‘This blog entry may not sit well with some people. You\’ve been warned. Today\’s topic is something of a more delicate nature. To be more precise, the topic is of a very egestive nature. Egestive… think opposite of injestive. Look it up. This is your last warning before reading on. Simply put, I do not understan’;
Original post blogged on b2evolution.