One Amazin' Woman, One Lucky Man

Sometimes, you have the single most perfect, precious partner sitting right next to you. You KNOW you do, but you need to take a step back every so often and just admire and rejoice for what that partner means to you. My wife, my Princess, Belinda Poppell, is THAT woman. She has so much to offer (which I gladly accept), and her love for me is so freaking beyond what I would have thought possible 5 years ago, when we first met. It strengthens between us every day, no matter where we are. It just all flows together as the day goes on. Her responsibilities away from home increase every day, and due to my recent surgery, they have increased here at home as well. Does she buckle? Fold? Shrink away from it? No, No, No...she just gets stronger, in every way. I can only stand to the side and watch her grow, in her professional life and in our relationship, and I cannot do anything but stare in awe. Somehow, my baby manages to fit 25 hrs into a 24 hr day, without complaint. Always smilin' away (I do catch a tiny frown here and there, well hidden). There are a few reasons for this, but one of the most important is also one of the least acknowledged: her employees. From her new manager, Joel, to her assistant mgr's, Erica, Kara, Jaselle, Colton (hope I didn't forget anyone; my apologies) down through all her personnel at Dairy Queen, if it wasn't for the support, hard work and good attitudes I'm not sure how she would be doing. As the folks I have mentioned help her, they help ME. Every thing they do is one little stressor that she doesn't have to worry about...much. Another thing she has going on is her "swagger". She is the General Manager, she accepts it and she is damn good at it! When she finally gets home, to help this beat-up old body, she has an uncanny ability to disengage, maybe switch gears, that allows her to focus on me, and more importantly, US, and still maintain her professional attitude in case she has to jump back in. It has been quite an adjustment for her, and us, yet somehow she pulled it off, and I was never much help. I was focusing my own emotions on my soon-to-be 3rd knee replacement (yes, I only have TWO knees!, lol), with a 4th one in a quick turn around after rehab. My focus took over my emotions, which left me feeling weak and vulnerable. Again, here comes Belinda, riding to the rescue on a white horse, reassuring me always, that the strength of our bond has never been weak and in fact grows tighter every day. So, I would like to send a bucketful of thank yous to her staff for ALL that they have done in support, and also a big high 5 to her immediate supervisor, Brian Kelly and his boss Len, and all the DQ office staff for their support of my wife; without all of these important people, my Princess may have had an even more difficult time. I have NO doubt she would have still accomplished all that she has, and adapted as needed. Princess, I love you so much, and I know we need each other to make each other better. In the end, we have both found someone in whom we can place our hearts in the others' hands without fear of breaking. For that, my love, I will be forever grateful, and in your debt. I love you, always and eternally.

The Greatest Love Story...Ever

If this didn't happen to me, I never would have believed it; friends and family, and even friends of friends, believe. Just as Virginia believed in Santa Claus, after all my doubts in the past, love is there for you, and probably in the most unlikely of places. This is my Virginia.

I decided, in early 2010, to just pack up my life and move to East Texas. I told myself it was so I could be with my parents, and siblings. I had, and still have, some fantastic memories of my time in Northern California, and I count some of the folks there as my friends, and some of the most magnificent people I have EVER met. But Texas was calling.

When I first arrived, I stayed with my folks, until I could get settled and find my own place. On the lake, fish when I want (retired people have to do that; it's a requirement). So, as I was picky but still wanted the water, I moved into a trailer park, one that I had visited each year before, just to check it out, when I came out to visit. Went back down this time, hoping like hell I could find what I wanted. I did, and more.

With the help of my Dad and brother Jim, we got me all moved in, and the very first 2 people I meet (after the owner) was the maintenance team. Can't remember his name, but the other half, WOWZA! Long brown hair, nice, long tanned legs, and eyes that just shimmered when you would look into them.It was June, start of summer and already hot. She was drenched in sweat from working hard, and somehow that grabbed my attention more. In a relationship? Of course she was...damn, what's up with that, Santa?

Soon I discovered that if I had a minor maintenance issue, the "she" half of the team would be sent to fix it. Blown breakers on the a/c, other small annoying crap. Could I fix it myself? Sure. Did I want to? Why would I, when she would? It got to the point where I would turn the breakers off myself, so she would have to come up. And, normally I have a policy, that if you want to come to my home, call first. I forgot to tell her that. We talked, just little chats, found out she loved Lipton's Brisk Lemon Ice Tea, so what was my fridge stocked with? Yes ma'am, I have one right here!

Always on my mind was she. Some nights, it would just be a few folks out on the dock, or the shoreline, fishing and laughing. Man, I was so more relaxed than I ever had been in my life! And it was because of her. Under the moonlight, poles in the water, I couldn't care less if I caught anything. I would tell stories about my time in the military, and everybody would listen and laugh, or just listen, because some weren't funny. Some were paying attention, some fishing, but she was doing both. Even without a moon, I could feel her eyes on me. Me.

I knew her relationship was rocky; we talked about it. I talked about it with him, and I truly tried to keep them together, because, at that time, that's what she wanted, and I only wanted her to be happy. I had had my share of happiness, and I sensed a part of her that just yearned for that happiness, so I tried. I gritted my teeth, bit my tongue, and tried to help. It didn't work, they parted ways, and I lost contact with her, except for a few brief calls, maybe a Facebook note or two. She called one day for help, and I did. Because she asked. I didn't know her story of the past few months (and even though I had moved, I also had to do my own maintenance...double bummer).

Christmas Eve, 2010, playing on-line poker, minding my own business, up pops my chat window. It was HER, the young lady that haunted my dreams. "Hey", she says, "whatcha doing""Nothing, playing poker" Do you feel like coming out to Athens and pick me up, we can go do something?", she asked. Now, Athens is about 40 miles away, but I did not care if it was 40 million miles away, I was gonna get there, and I was gettin' there yesterday!!! Woke up Christmas morning with her in my arms, so I knew that Virginia's question was answered for me!

Sadly, that morning we talked, and I asked her if she would give me a few days to sort things out before I went full bore into anything resembling a relationship. She understood, and I took her back to Athens, and made a slow, lonely journey to my parent's house for Christmas. I walked into my parent's house, and immediately my brother and Mom looked at me and said, almost in unison, "He's in love" (my brother) and "Who is she" from Mom. THAT, ladies and gentlemen, prevented me from making the biggest mistake of my life. If they knew right of the bat that I was so happy, just by looking at me, then what the hell was I thinking, dropping her off in Athens?

I think, after some time together, that I simply wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to hurt her. I knew she wouldn't hurt me; but she had suffered enough, some of her own doing,as I had (some of my own doing). Called her several times Christmas Day, made plans, and she moved in with me on December 26th, 2010, and each and every day I am a much happier man, because my Mom and Jim picked out what I couldn't quite see yet; I had found love, and I had just dropped it off 40 miles away.

Belinda has been a rock for me for just a little over 4 years, and I have been her rock. We laugh, we cry, we disagree, but we have never had one single fight. But whatever we do, we do it together, and that is what makes us who we have become: US, not Norman and Belinda, not the Poppell's, not Belinda and Norman...US. We are one together, thoughts, likes, mannerisms, you name it. We are ONE. Now, anything titled "The Greatest Love Story...Ever" has to have a sound reason for being described like that, and this one does. It has a moral.

The moral of this story is this: If you see something you like but think you may never get it, no matter how SMART you are, act DUMB, so the lady has to fix your breakers. 24/7. Princess, I love you, totally and completely. Thank you for 4 wonderful years of happiness, and to little Virginia, there is a Santa Claus...you just have to pay attention, be patient and the gift of lifetime love will be yours!! 

My beautiful bride, Belinda

My dear family and friends, I really need your assistance. My Princess is scheduled for a surgical procedure this Tuesday, August 21st. I don't get scared very often, but I am. It is a routine procedure, and the doctor says not to worry. Funny, but she is NOT his wife. I am not overly religious, and I definitely do not attend a church of any kind, but that does not mean I don't believe in something. I do believe that the power of love is the most overwhelming power, and we both have plenty of that for each other.

Belinda is the most special thing in my life, right at the top with my 3 sons. I just look in her eyes, and I feel exactly what she feels, and that is so rare these days. If I could take her place, I most certainly would. When we married each other, I promised to always protect her and keep her from harm. I promised to always be there for her. I would be her safety blanket, and to provide her security and safety. Now I am lost for answers, and it is where I ask you for assistance.

I am not a praying man, in the usual sense of the act. I guess you could say that I am selfish, in the fact that I will pray for strength when I feel I do not have control of my wife's safety and security. I have to turn her over to a surgical team on Tuesday morning, and I am scared. Very scared. I feel as if all the things that I promised her, I cannot give her on Tuesday. I have to cede control of her to people that I do not know, and I really don't like that feeling. In fact, I hate it. I am trying my best to show her strength, and to take all her worries onto my shoulders, and I do so readily and gladly.

Now, my request that I ask is this: Please, please, help me in praying for my Princess. I don't know if my simple little prayers are being heard, or if they will even work. I do know that the more help that I have from all of you, the better I will feel.

This woman has changed my life so dramatically, from the very moment that I first laid eyes on her. I need her, as much as I have ever needed anything in my life. As I said before, we have a love for each other that is rare. We are not a couple. We have become a singular being, knowing what the other wants without even speaking of it. We finish sentences for the other. She has taught me things about love and sharing and giving that I did not know existed. I need her to be safe, when I cannot be there to provide that safety and security.

I know that she will be under the best possible care, which does help me cope at times. I show her confidence, and I am keeping upbeat. But deep inside of me, I am not sure that I can do this alone. I am giving it my best shot, and I have taken some of doubt's best punches, and I am still standing tall. I do this not only for her, but for me and for us. Your thoughts and prayers will be appreciated in such a way as I can never repay them, unless you need the same thing from me. I will give you my word that I will always be there for any of you, at any time.

In closing, please remember my Belinda in your thoughts and prayers. We are in a place in our lives that we have both struggled to get to, and we deserve to continue that journey. Is that selfish? You're damn right it is, and I do not care. My only care is the health of my bride, and I need you, each and every one of you, to help us to get through this. I know I can count on all of you.

Can the Ultimate Happiness Get Even Better?

Sixty seven days. 67. This number represents the number of days that have passed since Belinda Sue McDonald made me the happiest person on this Earth by accepting my last name in marriage. It marks 67 days since Belinda and I exchanged our wedding vows, and folks, I'm telling you, the happiness factor only increases each and every minute I am with this woman. She brings to my life comfort, passion, safety and security. She is my very best friend, and forever will she be. She can be sitting on my lap, and still not feel close enough for my liking. Our relationship, like all relationships, has its ups and downs, I think. But I have not found a down moment yet, and honestly I am not seeing one coming at all. She is everything that I am, and I am everything that she is. We are totally and completely ONE! We are not a couple. Belinda is me, and I am her. We are inseparable. Her thoughts are mine and mine are hers. It just simply works out that way. We will look at each other, and we just KNOW. I can't explain it, nor do I want to. It just IS. Belinda Poppell has brought such a great amount of joy and pride into my life! God, I am so overwhelmed by my feelings for this woman, the words are hard to come by. Maybe this will help to understand: If I am in any kind of a down mood, for any reason, I know that I only have to look into her eyes. I see that twinkle of love and trust in those eyes, and my down becomes an up mood. Why? Because I am looking into eyes that love me back just as much as I love her, and that is one helluva lot of love going on right there. Are relationship isn't so much comfort, but it is a soothing, relaxing feeling, knowing that whatever comes along our path, what we have will triumph over anything that dares stop the boundless love and affection that binds us together. For life, and beyond. But, I think there is one thing that stands out the most, that makes me feel so full of life and love. She knows that she will always be safe, be secure and that I will always be there for her. I see total and complete trust in her eyes, and boy, is that a good feeling. When you know that your best friend, lover, fishing buddy, and yes, wife, has complete trust and faith in you and what we are, there is really no other feeling quite like it. I'm not gonna get all corny and talk about fireworks and sparks shooting off, drums beating and doves flying around our heads. It is a barely concealed smoldering passion, a desire, a....longing, to spend the rest of your life with someone, and you are so at peace and at ease with that feeling. That is what it is like, and I probably still have not done that feeling enough justice. I have seen her grow into an independent young woman, in a short period of time. She is so secure in who she is, and what she has become and what lies ahead for us. Belinda has no boundaries. She can do anything that she wants, and she knows it. I wish EVERY man or woman has that opportunity, at least once in their lifetime, to experience that I get, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and 365 days a year (Leap Year even gets me an extra day; how's that for sweet!?). She is not with me tonight, as she is performing her true calling and taking care of a person who needs her more than I do right now. I do miss her so, but she will be home soon and then we will be together as we should be. Then we will be as one again, though we were never really less than that. It just feels that way right now. I love you, Princess, and being apart, even for these few hours, only reaffirms how deeply I feel for you and for what you do for me. I just.........love you, babe! It is just that simple. One word: LOVE!

For Belinda, with love and great affection

Very soon now, I will have the great pleasure of exchanging marriage vows with the love of my life, Belinda McDonald. For those who know her, and for those who don't, let me take a few moments of your time to explain why I am the happiest man in the world. I first met Belinda in May of 2010, and right away I was taken aback by her beauty and youthful exuburance. She immediately had my eye, and shortly thereafter she had captured my heart. Alas, the time then was not right. I was around her every single day for 6 months, and my feelings only grew stronger. I did not fight them; that was impossible. But I did hide them; as I said the time just was not right. But for a man who is so stubbornly impatient about getting the things that he wants, I surprised myself by biding my time. I never wished ill well for her in the situation she was in. Eventually, circumstances slowly began to change, but I still did not show my true feelings (or so I thought!). Women always seem to know what a man is thinking, while a man is generally clueless about feelings. After a while, the circumstances turned in my favor, and I have since become the luckiest and happiest man the world has known. When we sit next to each other, 12 inches apart, I catch a glimpse of her looking at me, and what I see in her eyes makes all the patient waiting worth every minute. Belinda is a very beautiful woman, with the biggest heart I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She would, and still will, do anything to help anybody. That is just her nature; Belinda is a very giving and caring woman. She has shown mean what love really means again, and that I should not be scared of it. And I am not, no longer. I have fallen in love with love, and with Belinda's help I have learned to trust love and what the true, singular purpose of that word. It means sacrificing all for the one you love, no matter the personal cost. You have a desire to give all that you can to that person whom you are in love with. When we are together, I still miss her. Now, how crazy is that? Well, if that is crazy, color me insane. I just lose myself in her eyes, because I see nothing but total devotion, caring and genuine love for me. I hope she sees the same thing in my eyes, for I truly love this woman. My feelings matter to her, and she is not shy about showing me that side of her. She does not have to go out of her way to make me happy; I just am constantly, stupidly happy whenever I think of her! I cannot imagine any part of my life without her in it. I just can't. Some people say there is no such thing as a "perfect" relationship. Well, I have to say that they are so off-base with that assumption. We complement each other in so many different ways I'm constantly in a state of amazement. We think the same things, at the same time, all the time, every day. I just wanted to say thank you to the future Mrs Poppell, for coming into my life and allowing me to believe again. What Belinda has given me is something so special that it cannot be explained, only experienced and savored. To my sweet, loving Princess, thank you so very much for changing my life. You have completely healed my heart which I thought was impossible. Your patience, the way you care for me, your passion, and your total devotion and love is the most special gift a man could ever receive. I accept your gift, and I do so with a big smile, open arms, and a special place in my heart, reserved only for you. You, Belinda, are the one that I love, the one that I will always love, and the one who will always love me. Together we have no limits, and our future has no bounds! I love you, babe, and do not ever forget that!

Sanity and Sobriety, Pride of Purpose: Reflections on a Year Past

Step #1:  DONE. Today marks one full year on my quest to stop drinking, and I could not be happier or more proud of myself than I am right now as I sit and type these words. I have spent the last few weeks sorta collecting my thought into a pool with a singular purpose: To reaffirm belief in myself and my progress. You may have thought I would write this as part of a healing process. Nope, this is a purely selfish act on my part. It is about me, what I have accomplished and the future. Sure, there all kinds of people in my support group that deserve credit; they will be acknowledged.

Why did I stop drinking, BAM!, just like that? Doctor's orders? Blew'em off. Family pleas? Nope, weren't there and I would've blown them off also. Wanted to stay alive long enough to see my grtandkids? Didn't care. Time to set a good example for my grown boys? Nah, I would've done that long ago. So, why did I stop? Pretty simple, really: I wanted to. I was tired of "having the flu". It seemd like a never-ending mountain that I chose as my task. How does someone go from a GALLON of vodka every other day, to not an ounce, semmingly overnight? I'll tell you, it was harder than I would have ever imagined, but it had an easy flow along beside it.

When my trek first began, I knew my support group would back me up, but in essence they were worthless. I don't mean that in a horrible way. It is just that if I wanted to drink, I would have. Plain truth. I promised no one nothing, except myself. This project was mine and mine alone. No Alcoholics Anonymous, no rehab centers in the mountains of Colorado, no warm, steamy weather of Florida. The last thing I wanted to do was try and recover while listening to all the horror stories you hear at AA meetings, or the reasons why I was an alcoholic from the doctors at a rehab facility. Those places would have sent me back to drink faster than a luge run at the Olympics. I made myself a promise, and I was gonna do it on my own terms. I'm 48 years old. I didn't need a doctor who only drinks decaf or diet soda to tell me what alcohol does to my system. I knew what it was doing to me, and I finally chose to stop. And I didn't need a bunch of people just like me to tell me what alcohol did to their lives. I knew. It was my life, after all. I screwed it up, and I was bound and determined to fix it, by myself.

As an alcoholic, you lose all manner of trust and respect among your circle of friends. Damned if I wasn't going to get that back. My spouse never knews the bounds of my situation. I came clean with her. I told her exactly where I hid the bottles. I 'fessed up that I drank more each day than (I thought)  she knew (she knew). Every time I spoke or visited with my parents, they couldn't understand a single word I said. I couldn't hold a semi-intelligent with any of my cats, for cryin' out loud. They would go to Momma and say "What the hell did that mean?". I missed out on a whole lot of things from the age of 17 to 47. Alcohol was a major factor in the disengration of my first marriage, and I'm surprised it didn't contribute to the demise of my current marriage.

I never set out to prove whether or not alcohol is a disease, a learned behavior, or a chosen lifestyle, but my view on that was inevitable. I firmly believe it is one part of each, in varying degrees. The disease part of the equation is the least; it is a by-product of the other two. Learned behavior is the primary culprit. My maternal granfather and 3 uncles closest to me all drank to excess. It killed my Uncle Gary, my mom's youngest brother. According to my Dad, his Father was known to pour down a few, but I never really knew him, let alone see him drink. Alcohol was always a part of family gatherings, so I learned about alcohol. But, who where the primary teachers? The parents of my friends growing up. Alcohol was always prevalent in certain households, and it was so cool to go back to school on Monday and tell your peers that you spent all day Sunday puking your guts out. I was stylin', yes sir. So I learned about alcohol from my family, but I learned how to drink to excess from childhood friends and their parents. Alcohol took the life of my best friend, his only sibling and their parents, as I would find out later in life.

After I joined the military, things got worse. Compared to today's standards, there was a very high tolerance for drinking among the troops. In fact, sometimes it seemed like you had to, just like high school. I never smoked a cigarette until I enlisted in basic training,  and the reason was simple: If you smoked, you got a 5 minute break during your studies to "light 'em up". So I started smoking to get outside. That simple. After all that, the learned behavior became a chosen lifestyle.

I went to church as a teen with my family, and one thing they continually taught was free agency. Each human being has the power to make their own decisions. So, my choice was to drink or not to drink, and I chose the former. Little did I know what evil I had awakened. As a single man trawling the world with the United States military, things started to get out of control. After I got married, I knew my wild ways would disappear (insert big stupid laugh here). They only went into hibernation. When it awoke, it was hungry. I retired and went to school, where I had way too much time on my hands, and so I filled the time and empty hands with a bottle. It didn't matter which bottle was in which hand, as long as they were together. Again, a chosen lifestyle. My middle son doesn't drink, but my two other boys do. The oldest is not my biological child, but he is my son nonetheless. How can someone tell me it's "in your genes", when Darin does not have my genes? It is because he learned it from me, as did my youngest son Travis. The chose their lifestyle based on my example. On the other hand, Steven chose a lifestyle that was far different than what he could have inherited from me. Rarely drinks, but I proudly tell anyone within earshot that he is serving his country as his Father did.

Alcoholism is not a disease, it is a learned behavior, and a person chooses to maintain that behavior, until they die or change. I don't know if my support group knew that, but I figured it out rather quickly. You can't fix a disease, completely, but you can change behavior. That is what I chose to do, and I am so much healthier, happier, and confident in my life right now. I show my peacock feathers when someone asks why I choose to not drink any longer. If they want to hear it, I gladly tell them, and I know my pride-in-self and confidence shows through like a sheer curtain. And that's OK. I will not lecture, or describe the "sins" of drinking. They should know, if they are asking. Surprisingly, most listen intently (yes, they do; I would know if they were just placating me), and they profess good wishes and good luck on my continuing journey. That, right there, is a major reason I am able to continue to do well. Pride.

When a project this immense goes into effect, a support system  is essential. Mine consisted of my spouse, my family, all my friends and my former spouse. Just the fact that I knew they were there provided a comfort level I had never had before. I knew they would come running if I started to falter, and in a weird way that made it easier. Not only did I not want to break a promise I made to myself, but people were rooting for me to succeed. It made me that much more determined. And, boy, have I reaped the benefits. I can hold intelligent conversations again, I make sense, I don't mumble my vocabulary. I was once an intelligent person, only fogged out by alcohol. Now that the fog has dissipated, things got scary for awhile. Much of my memory is gone because of an unrelated illness. But the memories I have retained are very unsightly. I will not discuss these things. Just believe me when I say that they aren't nice.

Back to the essential support group. I was so mad at them at first. Why didn't someone shake the crap out of me and yell STOP! Norman, you're killing yourself? Why was I enabled by certain factions around me? Where in the hell were they? One single person actually confronted me. My former spouse, Tami, told me to choose between her and my three young boys, or the bottle. I grabbed the bottle and ran as fast as I could. Left my boys behind, growing up without me. Some things in life you do are so freaking horrible that you don't even want to acknowledge that you were responsible for a crime like that. I was responsible. Later on in my downward spiral, loved ones from my Ma, Dr. Kawachi (primary care doctor), numerous emergency room doctor's and my spouse, Nickie, tried to talk to me about my situation. All to no avail. See, I knew I had no problem, but they sure had one. Leave me alone, I'm fine, I would manage to mumble out. Mind your own business. I am not throwing blame around. After all, what could they do? I had already ignored one ominous warning. Why would I heed another, that didn't have my children at stake?

At last, I chose the one thing that mattered: my heart. I pulled up my britches, rolled up my sleeves and went to work on fixing ME. Do not get the wrong impression, please. I am not, by any means, fixed. But I am repairing myself. It is imperative that I view my situation as a lifelong repair job. I simply cannot afford to let my guard down, for even a split second. I am well aware of that, and I accept  that. At times, it becomes physically and mentally exhausting. Over the past year, there have been a few situations that have arisen that if I had chosen to have a drink no one would have said a thing, just because of the gravity of the issue. But I came to know one important truth: If I had just one drink, I would have had 21 drinks. No thanks.

For all those who provided support this past year, no measure of thanks is appropriate. It is immeasureable. This group was not particularly visible or vocal, but they were strong for me. I could feel the strenth that enveloped me. To all those I have hurt, embarassed or humiliated in years past, my profound and sincere apologies. I am in love with the new and improved Norman. I hope you are, also. Today, I celebrate my first birthday. My best gift on this day is the pride my Father now has for me. I am his son, and he will tell everybody. That is one gift I can't wait to unwrap next year.

Olympians and the Military: Proudly Serving Their Country

As a retired member of the United States Armed Forces, I know what it takes to eagerly serve your country. Professionalism. Extensive training. Pride, sacrifice, aand passion. Time away from family to travel the globe in pursuit of the objective. Even more extensive training. Sometimes it's a bloodthirsty calling. At other times, you must work side-by-side with your teammates. Sounds like job of an everyday U.S. soldier. Well, I'm talking about the Olympians from Team USA.

Sure, the military and the Olympics are different, but at the same time the similarities are uncanny. You are the face of the red, white and blue. The entire world is looking at you for your next move. An entire country is riveted, waiting for the literal, and figurative, bomb to drop. You ply your skills in far off countries, testing your training techniques. Adapt and adjust seems to be an apt motto for both groups.

When you are away for training, providing military duties or competing internationally, there is no difference. They both miss their families. They also must have a rock-solid supporting cast behind them. Life isn't always going to be a walk in the park. Trials, tribulations, setbacks; they all come with the job. Your supporting cast has to be there for you, to prop you up and urge you to continue when giving up is not an option.

I watched Lindsey Vonn cruise to a gold medal in women's downhill. Did you see how her family reacted? The glowing smiles and flowing tears? A look of disbelief, but with a confidence that the job was done as they had forecast. The long, proud loving hug she shared with her husband and biggest supporter, Thomas Vonn. If I project, I can see that bright smile and river of tears on my former wife's face when our son Steven stepped off the plane from Iraq in January 2010. What's not to like about victory celebrations and homecomings?

If you watched Shaun White, "The Flying Tomato", launch each of his runs during the men's halfpipe, what you saw was this: Steely determination, confidence, an almost "knowing" look that the gold was his. That look would be no different than that of a Marine about to take the last hill in a campaign. Failure is not an option. Shaun White guarenteed, with that look in his eyes, that he was the better man on this night. He wasn't chasing you; you were in a losing fight to maintain him. Hell, you knew that the world had already deemed it so.

During the NBC telecast, you viewed soldiers from Camp Eggers in Afghanistan wildly cheering for Team USA. That was a poignant moment for me: Two seemlessly disconnected groups pulling for one another, both wearing patches of Old Glory on their respective uniforms. You can't help but to get juiced by that!

It seems to me that, in fact, there is only one difference between Team USA and Team Military; The Armed Force of the USA fights for your right to wave that flag; Team USA proudly waves it in victory. Nothing quite like the historic raising the flag on Iwo Jima, but the effects reverbrate around the globe. Ask any service member or Olympian who has returned home after a victory in battle, and they'll tell you this: I served my country well in the international foum, and I'm raising the flag just to show you.

United States Air Forces Security Forces: A Fraternity

The USAF Security Forces are a tighly knit and proud member of the national security team. Within the military community, both active and retired members are both noted and recognized for their achievements and sacrifices. Though our feats are little known to the general civilian populace, the USAF Security Forces conducts a wide variety of safety, security and general police duties throughout the world.

Does anyone know USAF SF's are stationed in Australia? How about Iceland? Or Greenland? We provided protection for the Panama Canal. What do we do in those remote locations? What have we done anywhere? Anything single thing you can think of, in any place you can point to on a world atlas.

Tromping through too-high snowdrifts in the nation's heartland to protect the integrity of our missile silos. Hours upon hours standing watch in front of alert aircraft assigned to NATO and the European Union. Radar sites scattered throughtout the world. We work in concert with our host countries' military's, to provide better communication and security to prevent conflict. Securing transport flights for sensitive material world-wide.

The initial training for an incoming SF recruit is an intense, driven period of learning skills to be used for survival, weapons training, and national resource protection. How intense? I completed my training in early 1980, and still remember every single bit of data, advice and skill-set that was presented to me. It was not an easy program, but it was a profoundly life-altering one.

Raise your hands if you know that USAF SF's (or SP's, as earlier known), maintained security of the runways of DaNang and Khe Sahn? Yes, Vietnam.  The times and relationships I experienced as a USAF SF member were culled from time spent in Germany, Panama and even California and Texas. We provided security for the West Coast Space Shuttle Launch Complex, SLC-6, at Vandenberg Air Force Base, in Lompoc, Ca. We took over security responsibility for the first "new bomber" in decades, the B-1B, at Dyess Air Force Base, in Abilene, Tx.

We do not compete with the United States Army, Navy or Marine Corps. Nor do we compete with the United States Coast Guard. We work in concert when required, we play together when able, and we fight together if necessary.There is always going to be intra-service rivalry, that's just a fact of life in the military services. But, in the end, we are all knitted together into a single, well-tied knot: the protection of all citizens of our country, our resources and our borders. When called upon, we provide the same exact services for other countries.

So, while the United States Air Forces Security Forces are but a small piece in the larger national security picture, we have our jobs to do. And we do it well. To all retired, active duty and former members of the USAF Security Forces, I raise my beret and badge in salute. May we continue our grand record of superlative service to our nation.

First Year Reflections

One year. Yes, I voted for Barack Obama. Why? I don't really have an answer. Both sides of my family are Republican. The United States Armed Forces historically votes Republican, at least during my period of service. So, why would I decide to change parties, after 7 presendential elections? I can think of only two reasons, and I'm not sure which fits better, or if it is a combination of both: The Republicans presented no viable, acceptable alternative candidate, or if I was swept up in the sea of 'change, transparency, and' hope' that Obama preached. I reflected over the last 365 days, and things have become clearer, sort of.

I switched to independent before the election, so I had a choice. That's what an election is all about, right? Well, six hours after I marked my ballot, I could not believe that, for only the second time in 30 years, I had marked the Democrat side on anything (the first being Rep. Ellen Tauscher of California, for all the assistance she provided me with The Vetreans Affairs Department).  Then the results came sweeping in, and I thought I was onto something.

Three months later, the Democrats had my head spinning. Billions, if not trillions of taxpayer dollars went to irresponsible businesses and their leaders. General Motors, Ford, Chrysler, anyone on Wall Street who needed a handout. Maybe these bailouts were needed, I don't know. Nobody ever explained it to me so I could make sense of it. I'm not even sure which bailout made me more angry. I think I was more able to reconcile the Big Three auto companies, as they are a huge part of our economy. But rewarding Wall Street for dubious business practices, and then having to read about board members getting huge bonuses? Give me a job on Wall Street and I'll screw it up big time, then retire. Now, I know this bailout initiated with the Bush Administration, but Obama was left holding the bag.

Six months later, health-care reform was being shoved down my throat. Don't get me wrong, we need it. But the packages being bandied about seemed to miss the whole cause of rising health care costs. Insurance carrriers and their insane policy requirements and costs. Why was there no one standing up to them? I just couldn't get it right in my head. It felt as if the schoolyard little boy was being punished for getting his rear kicked around by the bully. Everyday! I watched this circus play out for a long time, and it's still playing in our lives.

Nine months later, and healthcare has taken over every headline, TV newscast, and blog site that you see, watch or hear about. It was all the talk, with no answers. President Obama wanted health care reform on his desk for signing by 2010. So, it became time to just cram reform into approximately 2,000 pages and send it to him. I simply cannot believe that every Senator and Representative on Capitol Hill read the entire bill, much less understood it, except where it concerned them, not the entire country. Just pick one Senator and ask them about a portion of the bill that does not concern their home state, and they will probably have the same look I have every time I open the paper. President Obama semed overwhelmed to be able to stop the 24 hour, back-door deals that were taking place. Not only did Capitol Hill go behind the back of the Amereican public, but of their own President as well.

Twelve months later, maybe it's catching up. Massachusetts, of all places, voted Republican. Masssachusetts! Republican! The brave people of that state may have set off a country-wide swarm of new Republican fervor. I'm not sure if that's good, either. The GOP is no less responsible for our country's ills than the Democrats. In the wake of the historic election of Republican Scott Brown as the junior Senator from Massachusetts, the will of the country is strenghting. My main  gripe (of many) regarding health-care reform was that the politicians on Capitol Hill were not listening to the polls. America doesn't want reform as it is currently being  presented. The politicians want only to back President Obana's goal, not listen to the electorate to whom they answer. Pathetic.

18 months later after I decided that Obama was my man, my emotions and concerns have become like a rollercoaster, one in which you cannot get off. Health care reform. What to do with the GITMO detainees (no easy answer there). Rising unemployment ( no easy answer there, either). But the President has made some solid decisions. Getting out of Iraq, where that war was simply a matter of George W. Bush avenging his daddy's incomplete operation. An infusion of troops to Afghanistan, where the war on terrorism should have been focused in the first place. 

So, my evaluation of President Obama's first year? He was inexperienced for the job,which most newly-elected presidents are. I think the Democrats stuck their necks out with his selection to lead their party. But Obama has proved one thing to me, and it is very important. He knows how to learn on the job. He was a rookie. Sen. Harry Reid (D-Nv), the Senate Majority Leader, and Rep. Nancy Pelosi (D-Ca), House Speaker, were pulling the strings, playing de facto president. Those are two of the most very wrong people to run this country. To his credit, Obama has seemed to shed them off his shoulders, little by little, and is becoming his own president, following his agenda for the American people. That really is all you can ask of a president. Lead the poeple, provide safety and security, and if there are any issue, deal with them swiftly and accordingly. It was not President Obama's fault that one Islamic extremist was screened through to Detroit despite numerous warning signs, short of him wearing a sign stating "I am a Terrorist". Now, maybe Homeland Security may have caught that. But Obama was quick to accept responsibility. That I respect. He is our leader, like it or not. I'm liking it more and more every day. Remember, none of us has a job description quite like that of The President of the United States. I think he is catching on quite well.

The War on Terror: Is it Really?

For years, I have wanted to publicly state my views and thoughts on the "war on terror". I mean, I was chomping at the bit. But I had a problem. For commentary to be successful, a journalist must not be biased, and I was. How could I write an unbiased and objective viewpoint when I had too much on the line; My son was on his second tour in Iraq, so it would have been practically impossible to write a fair posting. Well, he has returned safely, and I'm gonna to pull the gloves off.

This so-called "war on terror" is in fact a war, by any calcutation. However, it is a war previously unknown to mankind. It is not your great-granfather's in WWI, your grandfather's in WWII, or even your father's in Korea or Vietnam. Those engagements were basically simple: You knew the enemy, hopeful that they were where they were suppossed to be, then tracked them down and shot them. All of them. Then you occupied their empty space, and started anew. It doesn't get much more basic than that. Identify, find, shoot and occupy. Hell, even G.I. Joe knew that.

This new war we are engaged in has no such easily defined strategy. We don't know the enemy, don't know where he is,and face stiff restrictions on who, when, where and if we should shoot them. Identifying, finding and removing them have become problematic. There are so many stumbling blocks strewn across the path to winning this war that I don't ever see it happening. And, to make matters worse, President Obama made a huge blunder. He "declared war on Al-Qaeda".

You must understand this. A declaration of war means strict compliance with the Geneva Convention standards of warfare. Well, now we have put ourselves under an umbrella of rules and regulations that must be followed. Picture Osama bin-Laden huddled in a cave with his followers, somewhere in the world, saying "Okay guys, here are the rules. No more cowardly acts. We must now fight fair". Now, imagine all those eyes going glowing white with incredulity, as if they are saying, "Well, what do we do now?.

This war on terror is no traditional war and doesn't fit well with traditional standards of conduct. Al-Qaeda has written their own set of rules, and we must write ours if we are to have any chance of victory. During the two Great Wars, we gathered intelligence from the local populace. They had everything to gain and nothing to lose. Now, a huge majority of the locals are at least mildly sympathetic to the terrorists, and are not as forthcoming in their information.

There is no defined front in this new war. The enemy isn't wearing a Vietnamese pith helmet or a German 'SS' patch on his soldier. He is wearing clothing considered casual, blending right in with normal citizenry of any and all countries. Yet, he does not have any rules, while our hands our so entirely tied we ain't getting loose.
Our intelligence gathering community is at great risk, as seen by the cowardly suicide bombing on a remote CIA outpost in Afghanistan. 7 dead United States officers. This country relies too much on our 'allies' help. The intel guys need to develop their own intelligence, and have the ability to act once it is in their own hands.

If there is credible information available, why must those intel guys go through all the bureaucratic b.s. to remove one threat? Taking him down, immediaetly, must be allowable, right there in the field. Then, allow our guys any means necessary to get more intelligence. Yes, I mean up to and including torture. You get what you need, in any way you can, to prevent more attacks against the United States and her citizens. How someone can justify killing innocent men, women and children is beyond my comprehension.

I'm not much for the Bible, but "an eye for an eye" sticks out for me. I do not mean wholesale slaughter of civilians in terrorists' safe haven countries. But we must be allowed to maximize the use of force necessary to combat bin-Laden and the string-pullers, and the pesky minions that do their dirty work. Find, capture and retrieve information as needed, playing by their rules. See how they react to payback, using the same formula they themselves use.

The misguided political agendas running this war must face reality and reset themselves to play a whole different game. The rules have changed dramatically, and so must we. Give our guys what they need to protect us. I don't care one whit if the President of France says he is outraged by our actions. See what happens if the Eiffel Tower gets blown up. I just bet that France takes another look at the role his country plays (doesn't play) in world affairs.

The war on terrorism is global, and every country, save a few, are at risk. If you want to win, take off the kid gloves, screw world opinion, and go get what intelligance you need, any way you can. Al-Qaeda has set the bar and the rules. We cannot continue to react to what they have done. We must be proactive to what they are going to do. Let the United Nations moan and groan and complain. The U.N. is a useless, toothless body anyway. We must use the Old West mantra of shot first and ask questions later. Only, don't shoot to kill if possible. Shoot to maim, to allow us to glean any information possible. To fight the savages and criminals, we must be likewise.. Our very survival depends on it.

Back from Iraq: A Father's Joy

My son, Steven, is now resting comfortably in Kuwait, awaiting transport back to Texas. His mother and Randy will be waiting, along with his brothers. Chances are good that Mom will be holding a big bag of wet, sloppy "attack sugars", and favorite game they played since he was a baby. I'll miss the homecoming, but I'm comfortable in knowing that he will be met with much love and happiness. I'll have my own homecoming in a few weeks.

Steven just completed his second tour in Iraq. He's not going back, and that is just sheer relief you hear dripping off of me. I, personally, went through the whole gantlet of emotions during his first tour, and even added a few more during his second. I know there are thousands of other parents nationwide that are going through the cycle of feelings, in their own way. Here is my story.

When Steven first decided to enlist in the United States Air Force Security Forces, wow, was I proud. He followed his Dad's footsteps, albeit on his own terms. The blue beret. The Security Forces badge. I held my grin so long I got a face cramp. Then on to Iraq, and we knew that it was coming,  but not when. So, expectations were still met with apprehension. As a parent, we all want and need to control our children's safety, but he had his training and his well-trained fellow troops. My comfort zone for his deployment was somewhere between "he'll be alright" to "WHAT!" I put my faith in his training.

Steven's first tour was unevenful (if you can imagine that scenario), as far as war zones go. He met and talked with local villagers, and engaged the Iraqi children, doing his tiny part to be an ambassador for our country. It may seem trvial to some,  but the smile he displayued told me everything I wanted to know about his state of mind. I was in a comfort zone with my son's activities.

The second tour, however, was a totally different and stressful year or so. He started to get depressed with his mission. He felt as if there was no reason that he could understand. It is hard to help from thousands of miles away, but his Mother and I tried. But what, really, can we do? Key word: Listen, listen and listen some more. Sounds pretty easy, but in reality, not a chance. Because, even as you try and listen and offer comforting words, you just don't know the effect, if any, they are having. His Mother and I would talk weekly about Steven, I think just to settle our own feelings of not knowing. For me it worked, until we would hang up.

The emotions are hard to put into words so that you may understand, but I'll try.  Let's attempt it anyway, okay? Here is how I felt: I was out in the middle of a frozen lake, not knowing the thickness of the ice. I took a step, and, CRACK! I knew I couldn't take another step, but at the same time I had to. Which way could I turn? There was no choice. I had to stay and wait for the next (maybe final) crack. I was in that position for 7-8 months.

I was vacationg in Texas during this next period. The morning  I was preparing to fly back home, came the phone call from Tami, my former wife. Well, that phone call at 3 a.m. was the final crack I couldn't avoid. She received a very short call, saying Steven had been involved in a roadside bombing while on routine patrol. How the hell can you call a patrol in a war zone routine? That's military talk for ("He's not attacking the enemy, yet"). She did not have much information to share. I know how I felt after her call to me. I cannot, in no way, imagine her thoughts after receiving the all-important initial notification.

Well, the final crack had split wide open. I felt enmeshed in such a heavy weight. I was not in a position to help Steven, and nobody, my wife, my mother, nobody could help me. I couldn't help myself. I was under the ice, with no escape evident. Everywhere I touched  was only ice, and I was running out of air, fast! God, how I struggled emotionally. I was petrified, scared, utter terror coursing through my veins. I didn't know anything for a long time, the longest period of my life, bar none.

Finally, Tami called again. Steven was okay, just shaken up a little. Then, another call and it was Steven! You know how the Grinch's heart grows three sizes as his smile widens on Christmas morning? That was me. Not the Grinch per se, but the smile and the heartfelt relief. My son was going to be fine, after all. The tears flowed even more than after the initial phone call from Tami.

My wife Nickie, upon my arrival back in California, became the pillow I would clutch and cling to, waiting alongside me during the next few gut-wrenching days. Thanks to Nickie, I was able to understand that Steven was okay. She had to stop me from donning my old uniform, drawing an M-16, and flying to Iraq to exact some good old-fashioned pissed off Dad's revenge. Slowly, the relief I felt with Steven's condition gave way to heartbreak. Two members of his patrol were gone. Why was I so happy? Sure, Steven was fine. But two sets of parents and siblings were not. That guilt bore down on me hard. Nickie, again, was there to guide me through my latest crisis.

To the militarys credit, they were proactive in their response to the needs of the remaining patrol members, Steven included. They were allowed to talk their way through the situation, and heal a little bit. But nothing will erase the memories.  Steven is okay, as are his parents and members of his family and friends. But how many parents and family and friends of our lost troops are not? Of course, I stand behind the military so completely it consumes me at times. But the questions my son has does have me wondering what the hell we're doing sometimes. Though I may be against our activies in Iraq and Afghanistan, it is not my job to question the country's leadership. I can only ensure that my son, and the thousands of others like him, get the emotional support they need to survive as best they can. That is my contribution, and, I hope, yours as well.

To the many members of the military families that have suffered so much more than me, my hope is that you can rest easy knowing your sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, did their duty, for their fellow citizens, and for their country. I salute them, and I salute you as well, for your loss.

Steven, welcome home, son. You made it, and I am so grateful. You have raised the family pride another notch. Much luck in your future assignments. I hope that you have learned some things. I know I have, about myself. I'm stronger now, but I'm not unbreakable. Your home, Steven. God bless you.

California's Penal System: Untangle the Mess!

To the surprise of absolutely no one, the prisons in California are massivlely overcrowded. This no shock to the cirtizens of the Golden State, and no immediate fix is in the offing. However, it says here that a few simple changes may affect which criminals live on the taxpayers dime. This commentary intertwines two recent articles in the Contra Costa Times, to try and make sense of nonsense.

Assembly Jerry Hill, D-San Mateo, wants to pass legislation that would revoke the drivers' licenses of anyone convicted of  three DUI'S. It includes a provision similar to the "three strike law", wherein a third conviction results in a permanent revocation. This proposed legislation has not one tooth, sharp or otherwise. I have no scientific data, but I'm willing to bet that depsite the law, repeat DUI offenders will NOT march to the bus station and taxi cabs. You can revoke, revoke and revoke, but if you are a repeat offender over several times, you're just gonna do it again. Why not?

Laws already on the books provide for jail time for the repeaters, but there is just no more room. Yet we continue to jail people, support them with taxpayer funds, and a lot of these don't need to be there, compared to a repeat DUI'er, who is a constant to danger to society, once that first bit of alcohol passes the lips. Repeat offenders seem to follow this mantra: a) I don't care, or b) What are they going to do to me? or, c) A little bit of a & b. I say c says it all.

Now, on to the "overcrowding issue. Yes, I know that the California prison system is like a widely stocked lake with bad fish. There is no room for repeat DUI offenders. Well, make room. Here's how. The system has in its hands immigrants, both legal and illegal, serving sentences for  mainly "slap on the wrist" offenses. A lady in San Lorenzo, convicted of petty theft and receiving stolen property, in the 1980's, was imprisoned when United States Immigration and Customs (ICE) agents tracked her down. Good detective work, ICE. It only took two decades to find a legal immigrant, and chances are there is a repeat DUI offender living within 10 miles of an ICE agent. Let her go, and replace her with the man with 9 DUI conviction. Yep, you read it correctly: NINE DUI convictions.  Who would you rather have jailed, as a bigger risk? I could live next door to the San Lorenzo woman, but I couldn't walk down the streets with the other guy, without looking over my shoulder. He scares me; her, I'd have over for lunch.

There are scores of stories like this in California, and probably nationwide. The Iranian man with a master's degree in chemistry jailed after ICE discovered a 30 year crime. Another legal imigrant who has given back to society. His case probably makes him want to drink. Or how about Victor Garabay, an immigrant from Mexico. He moved here with his mother when he  was 15, 30 years ago. He held good, steady jobs, until he became unemplyed and homeless. His crime? Stealing food because he was hungry. Wrong? No doubt. But is he really a bigger threat to the lives and property of citizens than the person who blew a .22 blood-alcohol content test, then finally, was sentenced? I'll take my chances with the immigrants.

I'm all for immigration reform, but it must be used as designed. If they are here illegally, and they commit a crime, pack 'em up and send them home. If they are legal, effectively a U.S. citizen, mete out punishment as you would to a regular citizen. The Iranian man spent 16 months behind bars, now on home detention, for a minor 30 year old crime. Hell, Americans get less time than that for assault. Stealing food, while living under a freeway underpass? Okay, he was wrong. But the chances of him running down my family are pretty remote. So, he too, can have lunch with me.

Am I making any connections here? The California Department of Corrections (DOC) is overrun with prisoners, and ninety-nine percent deserve exactly what they got. But common sense and discretion are ringing their bells, and everybody in a California leadership position seems to be tone deaf. The Nicaraguan woman in San Lorenzo, the Iranian man in San Jose, and the Mexican man in the South Bay do not need to be taking up precious space that could be used to keep a possible killer off the streets. Overcrowding is an on-going issue in DOC, and may never be resolved. But while we are waiting for that miracle, put the right people behind bars. People barrelling down roads and sometimes sidewalks, doing double the speed limit while doubling (at least) the legal alcohol limit scare me. A homeless, jobless immigrant from Mexico does not instill the slightest ounce of fear. I challenge the governor and his fellow lawmakers to make room in DOC for the societal threats all around them.

Once last option I have in mind: After your first DUI conviction, try this requirement. Your vehicle insurance policy must include a provision that your policy will include a mandatory one year stay in a rehabilation center. You did it, you pay for it. Two things might be accomplished: This one year rehab stay just may be successful, and the now required traffic classes within the framework of the rehab center's mission. I don't know if this would work; I'm not any kind of expert. But, has anybody tried?

Alcoholism: My Path to Freedom

NOTE: This is a journal chronicling my journey from the best times of my to life to the worst, and the struggle to regain control. It details cause and effect issues and the levels of support I, personnaly, had available to me and that I utilized in my climb back from the bottom. It is not a lesson. It is a story. And it is my inspiration.

Three-three years. Three decades. How does one become an alcoholic? If that was an easy answer, then we would, as a society, have far fewer. I can blame it on anything; previous family history, the traumatic death of a family member or close friends, sudden loss of riches. You name it, it can be used as an excuse. I became an alcoholic for a simple reason: I didn't have one.

I had my first drink at age 15. Sounds normal. Doesn't everybody? At 15, I was indestructible, as were my friends. High school, then enlistment in the United States Air Force and a trip to Germany for 2 years. I was without family for the first time, so Daddy's not checking on me. But I had yet to learn responsibility. Eventually, the military let me know, in their soothing, comforting terms, that I now had responsibility. That would be right after my first alcohol-related incident. A fellow troop insulted my German girlfriend, so I broke his arm. Pops would be proud.

Over the next few years, there were several near-misses, but thankfully, I did not hurt anyone else, only some property damage issues. Those close calls only delayed the inevitable. At 23, I got married. Now, everything was perfect. Three boys, a beautiful and loving wife. Hell, I could have written a Country and Western song about life (couldn't sing it, of course). I did some great work for the military in Southern California and Texas, then continued my career in Panama. Uh-oh. Unseen problems coming.

Looking back, Panama provided the first warning signs,and one of the most dangerous: Denial. Hiding booze. Thinking my wife didn't know. I was smarter than anybody else, wasn't I? But I still played it off as if nothing was wrong. Hell, I wouldn't know anything was wrong until years later. Coached my sons in Little League. Performed my military responsibilities flawlessly. Awards, citations, pats-on-the-back. Living the good life, completely ignorant of the future. Then, selection to the Non-Commissioned Officers Academy in Austin. First time I had ever been away from my wife and sons, for any extended length of time, ever.

Can't put my finger on it, but it just maifested itself. As soon as I settled in at Austin, my thoughts turned to my wife, and they were not pretty thoughts. She was cheating. She did not love me anynmore. She could do better, so why did she settle for me? As I reminiscence about those dark early days, I try to pinpoint those times and what prompted those thoughts. Know what I found? Nothing. Zero. No reason whatsoever, but there they were, causing panic, paranoia and total loss of self-esteem. There was ABSOLUTELY no reason for me to have any suspicions at all. I just did.

So, to drown those thoughts, I turned to drink. Not a shot, not just one, but as much as I needed, whenever I needed it, to dull the self-caused pain. Once I returned back home to Panama, everything kind of eased back to normal. Months later, my wife had the opportunity to attend a military financial class, I believe , in Austin, also. Well, guess what? Yep, the demons came back, with an attitude. The only saving grace, this time, was the fact that I had sole responsibility of the boys, so I really couldn't stay wasted, could I? That showed me I had some sort of self-control (that is what I later told myself). But I couldn't shake the absolute fear and paranoia in my mind that I felt when I went to Austin and again when my wife made her visit. In fact, that fear and paranoia seemed to be making up for lost time. Thank God for my boys, and my duties there.

Now comes the big equalizer: retirement, with a lot of empty time while I went to college and my wife worked, in a management capacity of sorts that put her in contact with men on a daily basis, some of whom were my friends, also. Hell, we played softball together. But the fields those first little seeds of  fear and paranoia had sown quickly became a full, ready-to-harvest crop. Slowly but surely, they captured me. I would drink like never  before. The sun came up. Drink! The sun went down. Drink! The imagination can go wild when you are living in a 0.24 BAC world, 24/7.  Somehow, I managed to function, going to class, taking the boys to practices and games, coaching them, and my wife and I, in baseball and softball. To this day, I do not know how I managed. I thought I was fooling everybody, but I was only fooling myself. The hammer dropped when I was asked to move out. I did, and I blamed everybody. Instead of realizing the problem, I denied it. The big, nasty "D" word. Instead of fighting for my marriage and my boys, I left them, right there on the stoop of our house in Abilene, Texas. Gave up on my studies, gave up on my boys and gave up on  myself. All in 3 short years. Didn't even put up a fight and moved to California. I quit. The bottle won.

In California, things only got worse. My Mom, as mothers are wont to do, enabled me and my Dad ignored it. My brother and sister just dealt with it in their own way. I, on the other hand, blissfully carried on, knowing but ignoring or not caring. I'm not sure which. I'm not sure it mattered. Again, any excuse to hoist one. Close calls followed, time and again. But no trouble.The divorce became final, and my boys would visit every summer for 2 months, and we would have a grand time. They would watch TV, go see grandma and grandpa, go downstairs to visit my future wife, Nickie. And I would.........drink. Yep, only saw my boys 10% of the year, and I drank. Hell, I would take them to the movies at the Century 5 because the Sail Inn bar was next door, and when the movie was over they would come and get me. Again, I  was fooling only myself when I thought they didn't know. My boys aren't stupid, but their old man was.

During this time, I somehow managed to squeeze 3 major back surgeries into my life. How I managed to rehabilitate from surgeries in a drunken stupor, I have no clue. But I did. I know I was crying out for help, but it was a silent plea. I would get so defensive and angry no one wanted to speak out. I don't blame them. I would not want to risk that kind of wrath, either. I wasn't violent, but my words could slice nasty gashes. I was a pro.

I don't know why it happened. Maybe it was the 2 visits to the ER in a 2 week period that woke me up. But one day I decided I wanted to stop drinking, with wanted being the key word here. April 15th, 2009. What followed was just a complete wave of support from every single person I knew. My wife, Nickie. My Mom and Dad, who never gave up. My brother and sister, nieces and nephews, who finally saw the real Norman, and actually have a conversation with him. You may find this ironic, but among my biggest supporters were my firends at the bar. Seriously. They knew what I was attempting, and they helped. No pressure to drink, no pressure not to drink.

I have had plenty of excuses to pile on a huge hammertime. The suicide of a close friend. My son's first and second deployments to Iraq. His close call with a roadside bomb. My birthday. My wife's burthday. Anniversary. Holidays. The sun came up. The sun went down. I have, to this point, resisted those excuses. I have the utmost confidence in my ability to continue on the path I have chosen, and I feel I have regained control of my life. I can do something as simple as a crossword puzzle. I can remember things easily, most times. I can have a conversation.

Don't let me get you into thinking I'm grown up and healed now. Far from it. Each and every day is a fight, and I face it head on. I'm winning, but I cannot afford to let my guard down, for even a minute. I know, from my nightmares, that those demons are just waiting for an opening, any opening, to pounce, and they are pissed. I draw strength from my wife, my family and my friends. I am proud of what I have done so far, and they are proud of me. That, my friend, is real motivation. I can't heal the things I have hurt in the past, but I can move forward with the self-confidence and knowledge that I won't cause that pain again. To all those who have been part of my recovery, thank you so much. For all of you that have been hurt by my actions in any way, I am profoundly sorry. And for all of you who took the time to read through this, thank you for your patience. I have acknowledged the enemy, but the battle remains, as it will forever.

Lesson Given: Was Momma Right?

 This morning, I was watching a brief interview on Fox News regarding Ms. Diane Lyons and  her six-year old daughter, who had been caught shoplifting for the second time. Unimpressed  by the inactions of the store manager during the first incident, she took what some may seem as a drastic step: She called the cops. On her daughter. I will not present an opinion on her decision. That is nobody's business but hers, and her family. However, I would like to relate my own personal experience to my readers.

In 1994, my family and I were stationed on Howard Air Force Base, Panama. My wife and I had three sons, and at some point it came to my attention that my oldest son had stolen an adult magazine from the military version of a convienence store. After some time verifying the story, I confronted my son, and he shortly 'fessed up his transgression. As a Security Flight Chief at the time, I was kind of torn. Sworn to uphold the law, and now I have a child breaking it. So, I called a law enforcement patrol to the house, and we placed my son in the patrol vehicle (no handcuffs), and his friends and our neighbors were witness to the whole scene. This was not intened as humiliation. It was simply a case of breaking the law and the consequences.

I followed the officer and my son to the store and we contacted the manager. I initially wanted my son to perform some type of labors to right his wrong. However, under store policies, no one except store employees are allowed to perform duties there. I could understand that, but I was still puzzled as to how to have my son realize his actions and the wrongness of them. At the time, the 24th Security Police Squadronn had a horse patrol and accompanying stables. So, the light just about gleamed in my head.

First, I contacted my friend, the Chief of SPS Horse Patrol, and we devised a plan that we could take to the squadron commander. Once the plan was ready for submission to the commander, we went to him, and he was very enthusiastic. The plan called for my son to report to the stables for one hour each day, after school, to help mainatin the stables. This would include cleaning the stables, filling food troughs, and anything else Sgt Reynolds required, keeping in mind that he was a 12 year old boy.

Some of you may find this a cruel for a boy that age, but I'm telling you, he became a man during those two weeks. He kept up his studies, and eventually asked to be allowed to return on weekends, after the punishment period was complete, to take care of "his horses". My son learned the value of right versus wrong, but more importantly, he learned that taking care of others that depend on you was a responsibility he embraced. He learned to groom, maintain proper dietary requirements and even the importance of the daily walks that the horses required to remain fit and healthy.  He insisted that his mom, dad, and brothers visit "his horses" as often as possible. The transformation was remarkable.  He grew up. We always had to bring carrots, apples, etc., for his team. It was wonderful to see. His brothers also saw the value in the exercise, and took on a better understanding of what responsibility as a citizen entails.

By no means is this an example of "perfect parenting". Thre is no such thing. Each parent must react to a child's transgressions as they see fit. I merely wanted to share this story with you. Sometimes, alternate punishment is warranted, and in my case it was effective. You guys go on about your parenting as you see fit; it is not my business, and it is not right, nor will I, ever question a parent's techniques. I just wanted to share a story.

FOR SALE!!! My Vote in the Senate!!

Senator Henry Reid (D-Nv). Senator Mary Landrieux (D-La).  And especially Senator Ben Nelson, D-Nebraska. It seems to me that those three (at least) Senators have forgotten the old sports cliche 'there's no "I" in team'.  They each, in their own way, have sold out the American public for the sake of their own citizens during the health care debate. While following this debate, I would have thought that a Senator(s) would have sold out to the insurance lobby. How far off-base was that assumption? Well, that may never be known. However, the aforementioned Senator's have done the incredible: They have managed to get sweetheart deals for their constituents, all 1 million (give or take) of them, at the expense of the remaining 99% of the American public. But I would just love to focus on Nelson, and the party that has actually allowed this to happen.

Under the current health care reform (HCR) bill awaiting final voting, the citizens of Nebraska, which consists of Omaha, Lincoln and the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, and some cornhuskers, are to receive free Medicare for life in exchange for Nelson's signature on the dotted line. Nelson was the final obstacle to passage of the HCR, and he knew it. He was aware that he could have anything he wanted, so, why not ask for it?

Two major issues I have are these. First, even knowing the power that he had in his pen and the "Yea" he had in his voice, how could Nelson contemplate screwing the rest of the country with a clear conscience? Trust me, I do understand an elected official taking up the fight for their constituents. After all, they voted him in, and they expect something in return. But I'm sure even Nebraskans have taken a step back and say WHAT?   Senator Nelson's main goal should be action for the betterment of the entire country, not his tiny place in the real world.

Second, and most alarming, is how in the hell could the rest of the Democratic Party allow this to happen? I'm sure this a behind-closed-doors decision with Reid. Why is the rest of the Democratic Party suddenly playing Helen Keller (no disrepsect intended) on this? Well, Landrieux got her modern-day 'Louisiana Purchase' for her vote, so she has no desire or need to speak out, no matter how this is so wrong. Where are my Senators from California? Oh yeah, Feinstein  and Boxer are in the back pocket of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. How does that work? Fifty eight Democratic Senators in Washington, D.C., and TWO of them run this country. I got it. And in  my sweet little world of wishful thinking, I thought that the President of the United States would have at least taken a stand against his party's failings. Silly me, and my stocking is full, too.

This situation is so morally and ethically wrong on so many levels it is hard to contemplate. I am not trying to denegrate the citizens of Nebraska. My maternal extended family is from Nebraska (Beatrice/Wymore). In fact, Governor David Heineman (R) has come out forcefully against Nelson's actions, speaking for his citizens in oppostion of these issues. Gov. Heineman has gone on record as saying that Nebraskans are not supportive of Nelson's behavior. So who, exactly, is Nelson trying to represent? It says here that Nelson has put the "I" in team, and I know that the public education system in Nebraska teaches students how to spell better than that.  Thanks for listening and your support and input. See ya'll after the Christmas break. A Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all. Fight on!

Blinders Uniform of Choice in Richmond

The West Contra Costa School District (Richmond, Ca.) must issue blinders to their officials. In the last month, two reported acts of sexual violence have occured on the grounds of two district schools, Portola Middle School and Richmond High School. At RHS, a young teenage female fell prey to an alleged gang rape, after leaving her school's Homecoming Dance. And at Portola, a 12 year old was a victim of a rape by a 14 year old boy, on campus during school hours. What makes these vicious crime even more appalling are the statements from officials involved at the district. At Portola, two campus supervisors made statements that seem to be in support of the suspect. One, Marquita Dones, asks "If she was being raped, why didn't she scream?" What? Maybe if she was doing her job properly, she just might have heard a scream. The other, Mustapha Cannon, publicly doubted the sex was NOT consensual. "I know for a fact that that girl could've knocked that boy out with one hand tied behind her back" was Cannon's lame excuse for not doing his job. They didn't provide adequate (I believe it's in the job description) safety to the grounds, but, let me see, she was at fault. Are you freaking kidding me?

I spent a few years as campus supervisor at Las Lomas High School in Walnut Creek, Ca. That was quite likely the most intriguing job I have ever held. You must first get know to the kids, each and every one. Make yourself visible and allow the kids to have access to you, at any time, for any reason. Earn their trust. It's amazing what young adults will tell you if they trust you. It is painfully apparent that the two aforementioned campus supervisors do not possess any skills for this highly visible position. And visibility is the key here. You must, at all times, show your face and take an interest in the students and there needs and concerns. Teenagers have a myriad of problems, especially in a school setting, stemming from problems at home to problems on campus.

You gotta listen, people. Believe it or not, they will look to you for help. You just have to care about your charges more than your paycheck. Dones and Cannon have no business supervising children, let alone a head of lettuce.They should be summarily fired, NOW, and, if I had a say, charged with a crime. I know it's not a crime to  be stupid and unsympathetic. However, you could make a case for dereliction of duty, creating an unsafe have for children, or child endangerment. Get'em off the grounds and make a permanent red mark that says 'unsuitable in the presence of children'. And, wait, it gets better. Going back to the gang rape at Richmond High School, district spokesman Marin Trujillo did not discipline the Principal or Vice-Principal, but he placed on administrative leave the folks holding those positions at Portola for not doing their jobs. Again, WHAT?

Trujillo, facing questions about these incidents and others violence throughout the district, including fights at Pinole Valley High and DeAnza High, in which a total of 14 people were arrested said, to paraphrase, "There appears to be no connection between the incidents......." and "It would be erroneous to assume that having several violent incidents in the district reflects something, because these things are not connected".

Trujillo needs to reconnect with reason and sanity, and find a lucid thought wherever he can. Some school districts, especially in a tough area like Richmond, are run like the inmates that run the California DOC. If a student at Richmond wants a student at DeAnza "got", that student will "get got". That is called "pecking order", and Mr Trujillo is at the very bottom. When, and if, those two campus supervisors get terminated, Mr Trujillo should be afforded the opportunity to share his termination with them. He has no business playing "three blind mice" with the safety of the district's students.

My first guess would be that Trujillo is the person responsible for hiring these two knuckleheads in the first place. He does state that the district does not believe "they were speaking for us". So? The damage is done

Two young girls are not being supported by the three principals (Trujillo, Dones and Connor) in this scandal. How long do we have to wait before we hear about another "unconnected" incident. If the district has any integrity at all, three muzzles and three termination paychecks should be hand-delivered forewith. I volunteer.

INTEGRITY: Is it Important?

When I first started my postings, I stated to all that this site would be reserved for any and all opinions, irregardless of my views on the subject. I encouraged any prospective viewers, followers and subscribers to make comments, make an argument for or against my stance and we would all be able to have a nice narrative place to view, vent and share with other like-minded folks. Nothing fancy, just interacting in a civil forum. I also asked viewers to send in requests for topics they would like me to discuss. All was right in Norman's world.

Today, I had a request from an individual for my thoughts on a particular subject. After some thought, I responded to that request positively, because I thought I could make it interesting and thoughtful, provoking a good,equal sharing of views. Though I was taking a chance that it could be volatile, I was confident that my words would be viewed as fair and not an assasination on any particular individual. I was wrong.

So, after initially approving the subject matter, I have reversed my decision and informed the individual that I would in fact not run a piece on the request, and I have rested easy since in the belief that I have not stooped to censorship.

I did some investigating. The conclusion I came to after the evaluation scared me. I was convinced that this individual wanted to use this material to further a personal vendetta or agenda. I pride myself on using this site as simple communications between several interested parties, on either side of the sprectum. I'm not here to write something, then have any individual print it and go storming off and wave it in their adversaries face shouting "See, Norman said so, it's right here!" (I'm not trying to toot my own horn here). I'm not here to settle disputes or prove someone is right or wrong. I love to write about interesting items that are important to a semi-large cut of the browsers. I do not care if anybody reads this (though I know my family will, so they say). I'm having fun, and that is what matters to me.

So, to be clear: I am not here to settle, monitor or choose a victor on any personal tiffs between other people. What I write is a loose interpretation of facts previously reported,, and put my own personal spin on them, and allow others to put their spin on. Or maybe just some good ol' fun and heartwarming story I've heard or experienced .If you're looking for someone to fight your battles, their had better be a damn good reason, and send me factual information to work with. I'm not a vigilante trying to validate a spat, nor am I a headhunter. If that is what you want, go find somebody who is "fair and balanced".  Good day, folks, and continue to tune in.  Thank you.

A Tiger Re-do

A few days ago I posted my thoughts regarding Tiger Woods and his moral failings. Since that posting, and reviewing the comments posted, I believe my reaction was a typical "knee-jerk" belief. So, I have had time to reevaluate my thoughts, and here is my conclusion. Though the comments you folks posted were both pro and con, they brought to my attention some significant slights I felt.

I am not backing down on my stance on Woods' behavior or the harm he has done to his family or public persona. He was wrong, and will forever be wrong. This issue may or may not derail his professional career. I don't make those determinations. I am, however, delighted by his decision to set aside his professional ambitions to deal with the infinitely more important task at hand. Tiger has decided to face his demons, and I wish him well.

A few of you commented on the fact that it his private life, and should remain that way. For me, there is no clear-cut dividing line between private and public disclosure if you are a high profile figure. What right trumps the other right in this situation? I don't pretend to know, and I don't really think anybody really knows. It's a sad and shameful position we put ourselves in when all our attention is focused on another's private life, when the majority of American citizens have there own personal problems. Is it a phenomena based on the culture that my own issues aren't to be addressed now that Tiger Woods got himself into a whole heap of trouble? How wrong is that?

I'm still torn about what, if anything, is private in the personal life of a politician, celebrity, or athlete. I actually made a hyprocite out of myself initially because I am still a huge fan of Barry Bonds. I stand behind him still, because, in my own narrow view, "nothing has been proven", though I would probably vote "guilty" in his case. So, I was wrong about not giving Tiger the same chance. Tiger, at least, came clean, though it did take some time.

So, while I am not admitting that my original posting was wrong, it could have been presented in a different way. I sincerely appreciate all the feedback I received. It made me take a harder look at from where my opinion was based. Keep the comments coming. Thank you. Oh, and to Mr. Woods, I apologize for using the word "bastard" in reference to you. It was inappropriate.  

Tigers, Not Sugarplums, Dancing in my Head

Wow. Oh my! What's happening to this world?  Tiger Woods is human, after all. He does make major blunders. This latest blunder, however, has no comparison. He didn't leave his putt a rotation short on the 72nd hole at Augusta. It's not murder, mind you. But you know his wife is dying a slow, media-ramped death. Tiger may be dying, in his own way.

Tiger Woods embodied all that was good about sporting competition. I never watched golf until Woods romped through Augusta for his first major. I noticed golf in the sports section on Monday mornings, after looking at the point spreads. From that point forward, I was a golf junkie. No, that's not quite right. I was, as so many others, a Tiger-junkie. I would watch the first round, to see how far he would have to rally. The second and third rounds were used for updates. Sundays, if Tiger was within ten shots off the pace, it became a thrill-seeking ride as he caught, passed and firmly stomped all his competitors into the final fairway. Then, of course, another trophy presention. All was right in the world.

Now, golf has no appeal, none whatsoever. Tiger has taken that away, forever. Even if he returns, which I am sure he will, I cannot follow and cheer for a man that has commited the ultimate betrayal. I am not self-righteous by any means. But the man had it all. What else could he possibly want or need? Well, now we all know, and it just ain't right.

I had known only one hero in my life, and that was my Father. Suddenly, at age 35, I would ignore my Dad's call to watch a man putt from 45 curving, swerving, dipping and dropping feet, knowing it was going in, whether he needed to make it or not. That was my personal vision of Tiger-mania.

How did this cheating, lying bastard become my hero? I do not have the slightest clue, but I do know that I'm sick of the thought that he replaced Dad under "hero-worship". Sorry, Dad.

Mr. Woods will return to his passion, once he figures out what, or who, it may be. I don't care. I will not support him on any grounds. I wish my best so that he and his spouse can repair a great wound. That is what I hope that Tiger uses his Sunday Red concentration on. 110%, it must be about repairing what he has broken.

All the facts may not have come out yet, for sure. But from what has been disclosed so far, this is the only conclusion I can come to: Tiger will not get my support, with one notable exception: He must at some point come clean with his family, first and foremost. Then he must regain that sacred trust he shredded from his wife. If he mans up to that, and she accepts and forgives his transgressions, that is her business, and I wish them all the luck in the world. But Tiger Woods will never, ever get another cheer of support from me that alludes to his golfing prowess. He will, however, get a standing ovation in this corner if he owns up to all the wrong he has done to his family. Elin, I wish you and your husband the best of luck.

Holiday Thoughts and Wishes

The 2009 holiday season started off on a down turn for me. It began a week or so before Thanksgiving. My son was in Iraq, my nephew in Antartica, and my oldest niece in Alaska, and the rest of my family in Texas. Only an assist from Santa would allow me to able to see anyone, and he stopped answering my letters a long time ago. Suddenly, the Thanksgiving season, and the whole holiday spirit season, turned for the better. My wife and I had been invited to her son, Josh and daughter-in-law Kristin's house, with their 5 month old daughter, Addison, Kristin's family, and Nickie's two daughters and their spouses.The miracle started with a BANG I didn't expect. My youngest son, Travis, called me right away Thanksgiving morning, followed by a call I had been desperately waiting for, from Steven in Iraq. Well, I thought, this day isn't going too bad. Only in my dreams could I imagine the day getting better.  (I had forgotten the Raiders played on national TV that day).

Nickie and I were among the first to arrive at the aforementioned Thanksgiving dinner. Josh was a gracious host, always checking on us, and on everybody who arrived after. He took care of their daughter, Addison, the whole time while Kristin and Jessie (Nick's youngest daughter) finished preparation of the feast. He fussed, fiddled and attended to every one's comfort. In my measure, hosting your first major holiday family bash, in your own home, is a good measure of a man. Josh Salusbury showed me a man that day. My earlier worries about not having any family? Wiped out the moment I walked onto the front stoop and into the house. Good, confident and refreshing conversation for all. It seemed like all in  attendance sensed my despondence about being so far away from my family. To Kristin's family (of whom I had only met her Mother and Father once), her aunts and uncles, cousins and nephews/nieces, and grandparents, I deliver an extremely grateful THANK YOU! You all made me feel as if I was among family and my other stressors were to put ease. Addison was the hit of the party, as young tots are wont to do, and even the family dog, Harry, licked my hand (though that was after I had turkey drippings all over my hands and fingers; it;s okay Harry, I know you meant it.  Josh and Kristin, I felt at home and with family. Thank you so very much.

Christmas is going to be a little different, but similar. It's going to be quiet, just visiting friends in the local area, friends whom both my wife and I have been able to rely on throughtout 2009. At that time, we will offer our personal thanks. Now, on to my Christmas wishes.

Steven, remain safe where you are. Enjoyed continued excellence and advancement in your chosen career. You have the power, my son, to become a force in your military profession. Travis I wish for you growth, learning and a growing maturity. It;s tough out there, Trav, but you will make it. Keep your head up and move forward with both barrels fiiring. Darin, find what you want and go get. It's there, son. You just have to go and take it. Nobody's going to give it to you. My brother Jim; What can I say? You have helped me in so many ways. Stay on track with your studies and your writing. You have both the intelligence, and more importantly, the desire too be successful. Take it and run. My sister Becky and her family; Little Sis, Stay on the path you chose oh so many years ago. I can see how excited you are about it, all these years later. It's hard to juggle family, career and church, but Bec, you are an amazing woman. Kelli, make that leap from little girl to womanhood. Keep up the effort, Kelli-Belli.  You are a lovely young lady. Diana, Chuck needs your support throughtout his career. It takes a tough, loving woman to go through a military career with unquestioned love and support for her man. Di, Chuck is a good man, even though he's Army, but I salute him for his service to our country. Hug Lauren tight for me.(Hey, I got an idea. How about a picture. You know, those little things with color that only take a 44cent stamp to send to your uncle?) I miss you guys. Scott; You are an adventurous sort, and you have all the qualities it takes, passion, curiosity and a willingness to learn. Scott, continue your growth. Mom and Dad; What can I say? You have given me love, encouragement, and hope for 48 years, though I swear I'm 38. You have loved each other for almost fifty years. Just freaking amazing, and oh so rare these days. Dad, do what you must to get your health in order. I don't care if it hurts. Mom, watch Dad. Don't let him wander. And to you both, I very much enjoy the rare visits,  but when they do come I feel like I'm home again. Thank you for all your support and guidance, and for never giving up on me.

Josh and Kristin; Take care of that baby. Addie is a sweetheart. I can tell she has been blessed with both attentive and loving parents. Those are the two most vital assets your daughter can grow up being around. Harry, Merry Doggie Christmas.  Joe and Jenny;  I wish for your love and happiness to grow. It has taken hold, now it must flourish.  Joe, music for you. You have great talent. Jenny, may you get the opportunity to use your teaching and educational skills for the good. I know teachers, Jenny. This country sorely lacks the type of committed educator that you are, and there is an extremely short list of teachers who KNOW how to teach, and you are an asset. Jenny, press the issue. Tood and Jessie;  The new year brings an extra gift for your family, and added pressures. Take your cue and make your child welcome into this world. I am confident that he/she will be a well loved child, and well learned. You two have your own unique gifts to pass on and teach to your child. I envy that child's growth. Monte, Merry Doggie Christmas to you.

Finally, to all my friends: Jen, Shelley, Tomi, Ila, Amber, Alex and Cliff, Everyday Bill and the  rest of you who are a part of my life, thank you. You were there when I needed you. I will always be there for you, as you were for me and Nickie. I hope you won't need my help, but the offer is irreversible and everlasting. Jen, you hug Abbie for me. Shelley, hug Bruce and Cocoa. Tomi, track down your kids by who you can catch first, and then hugs from me. Ila, you get beautiful Tara. Amber, all the girls and Dominic get hugs. Alex, hug Cliff. Cliff, you just hug whoever you feel like.

To everybody involved in my life, and to those who aren't, may we all ring 2010 with, friends, family and strangers. Helping one person, no matter the case or circumstances, is the best gift you can give yourself. Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year!

Norman B. Poppell