{this memory} 73

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

Oh, daddies and their daughters!

There's not a lot of story here - just that this little girl's father used to have a luxurious bathrobe - royal blue and huge. It was a gift from my wife and was perfect for when one stepped out of the shower.

My daughter was about five in this image. She loved to put my robe on. It kept her warm, and it smelled like daddy.

She was such a sweetheart and still is. The robe has worn out and no longer lives at my house, but the memories remain.

I am filled with such wonderful memories and am a most fortunate man.

TGB

Epic Fail

Just a brief note to howl (at moon), moan, groan, or complain but mostly to release a long deep sigh.

A few days ago I chanced to look at my course evaluations from last semester. I tried not to, but I'm always hoping there will be a fresh idea that I ought to try out or add to the course. Like most faculty, I am quick to dismiss all of the positive comments and then let a negative one fester for several days.

The one that is festering was from my sophomore-level course in behavior modification. Toward the end of this course, I try to create a tolerance toward those who are different or challenged, especially those with intellectual disabilities or those on autism spectrum. My lectures, films, guest lecture, discussions. It's a big deal - trying to get them to presume competence when, based on appearance, many folks tend to presume incompetence. It is a challenge to learn that different doesn't mean worse or inferior.

I have some some physical challenges - a damaged heart, diminished lung function, and a left arm (See: Missing Extremities) that hangs flaccidly. Last semester was difficult, over the summer I had developed a need for supplemental oxygen (which I am optimistic about getting off of). So I lecture with a nasal canula giving me little puffs of O2. No big deal. Most students stop noticing that I have differences pretty quickly. Familiarity does that. (See: undifference)

So I was quite surprised to read a student's comments to the effect that I obviously couldn't do the job with my disabilities and that I should be made to retire!

So much for tolerance, for embracing difference, for looking past the obvious. This student clearly didn't learn what I was attempting to teach. It makes me feel like I wasted my time. I may need to revise my Minority Report. I certainly hope I wasn't just tilting at windmills.

That sense will pass, and I'll feast again on the students who wrote that they had to work harder than they wanted but learned a lot, that it was an excellent course, that I was their favorite professor, or that I "rule."

TGB  

{essential truths} Players

Players only love you

when they're playing.

{this moment} 73

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past - sometimes a place with many moments - but somewhere along my life's Journey over which I wish to linger a bit and savor each memory it evokes. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2013 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB

A Fundamentalist Dog

A fundamentalist Christian couple felt it important to own an equally fundamentally Christian pet. So, they went shopping. At a kennel specializing in this particular breed, they found a dog they liked quite a lot. When they asked the dog to fetch the Bible, he did it in a flash. When they instructed him to look up Psalm 23, he complied equally fast, using his paws with dexterity.

They were impressed, purchased the animal, and went home (piously, of course). That night they had friends over. They were so proud of their new fundamentalist dog and his major skills, they called the dog and showed off a little. The friends were impressed, and asked whether the dog was able to do any of the usual dog tricks, as well. This stopped the couple cold, as they hadn't thought about 'normal' tricks.

"Well," they said, "let's try this out."

Once more they called out to the dog, and then clearly pronounced the command, "Heel!"

Quick as a wink, the dog jumped up, put his paw on the man's forehead, closed his eyes in concentration, and bowed his head.

Author Unknown   

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2013 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

{this memory} 72

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

This photo of my family (self, younger daughter, older daughter, wife) was taken in the Robert W. Woodruff Health Sciences Center of the School of Medicine at Emory University in Atlanta. October, 2003. I have forgotten who was remembered by the bust, but it's either Hygeia, Galen, or Aristotle.

What you can't see in this image is the only Byzantine glass mosaic in the world illustrating the history of medicine. It three stories tall and 66 feet long, and it's gorgeous.

The reason for our gathering in this august space was my daughter's White Coat Ceremony, an annual event for first-year medical students as they formally receive their first white coat. One reason for the ceremony is for them to understand that when the physician wears the white coat, it symbolizes knowledge, competency, altruism, and honor and symbolizes that in doctor-patient relationships, the patient always comes first. At the close of the ceremony, she recited the Hippocratic Oath to emphasize again the altruistic core values of medicine.

What can I say? I teared up. I was proud. I was a daddy.

I am filled with wonderful memories and am a most fortunate man.

TGB

Quoth The Raven

And I think he's telling me whom to root for in the Superbowl between the San Francisco 49ers and the Baltimore Ravens.

Now I have to admit I'm not much of a football fan, but I do pay a tad more attention when it comes down to the end. And, of course, one has to watch the commercials.

But whom do I root for when I don't really have a team I've followed all season? Might there be a sign? I've looked. I've I pondered over many a quaint and curious possibility.

It occurs to me that one of my favorite authors is Poe - who died in Baltimore and his most famous poem, the Raven, is the inspiration for the name of the Baltimore Ravens. That poem is also my favorite of his works. A sign?

A few nights ago I screened - with my daughter and her boyfriend - The Raven, a 2012 film starring John Cusack. Not great, but I have certainly watched far worse. Was it another sign?

Poe went to the University of Virginia for one semester; I stayed for eight. His room on the West Range was just five doors from my brother's when he was a graduate student at the University. The room is kept as a museum and includes a raven statue. More signs?

My father was a plankowner (a crew member at the time she was commissioned) on the USS Raven, AM-55. A minesweeper in World War Two, she served as convoy protection up and down the east coast and in the Caribbean. From Nova Scotia to Bermuda to Panama. She was also part of Operation Torch, the invasion of North Africa. He served as Engineering Officer from 1940 to 1943. Another sign?

And then we come to Sunday night's AFC Conference Championship contest between the Ravens and the New England Patriots. Keeping in mind that I really didn't have a dog in that fight, I found myself rooting for the Ravens - even though you might argue that the Pats should be my regional favorite. Another sign?

So there you have it - too many signs to ignore. While I munch and watch the commercials, I'll be pulling for the Ravens.

How about you? Do you have a favorite?

TGB   

Our Generation's Task

If you want the full text of the President's speech, you will find it here. My favorite passage follows. I apologize for its length, but it is soaring rhetoric. It is my dream for my country. At minimum, we must leave the world a better place than we came into. At best, maybe we can see the dream realized.

TGB   

"It is now our generation’s task to carry on what those pioneers began. For our journey is not complete until our wives, our mothers, and daughters can earn a living equal to their efforts. Our journey is not complete until our gay brothers and sisters are treated like anyone else under the law – for if we are truly created equal, then surely the love we commit to one another must be equal as well. Our journey is not complete until no citizen is forced to wait for hours to exercise the right to vote. Our journey is not complete until we find a better way to welcome the striving, hopeful immigrants who still see America as a land of opportunity; until bright young students and engineers are enlisted in our workforce rather than expelled from our country. Our journey is not complete until all our children, from the streets of Detroit to the hills of Appalachia to the quiet lanes of Newtown, know that they are cared for, and cherished, and always safe from harm.

"That is our generation’s task – to make these words, these rights, these values – of Life, and Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness – real for every American. Being true to our founding documents does not require us to agree on every contour of life; it does not mean we will all define liberty in exactly the same way, or follow the same precise path to happiness. Progress does not compel us to settle centuries-long debates about the role of government for all time – but it does require us to act in our time.

"For now decisions are upon us, and we cannot afford delay. We cannot mistake absolutism for principle, or substitute spectacle for politics, or treat name-calling as reasoned debate. We must act, knowing that our work will be imperfect. We must act, knowing that today’s victories will be only partial, and that it will be up to those who stand here in four years, and forty years, and four hundred years hence to advance the timeless spirit once conferred to us in a spare Philadelphia hall."

{this moment} 72

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past - sometimes a place with many moments - but somewhere along my life's Journey over which I wish to linger a bit and savor each memory it evokes. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2013 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB  

Can You Help, Ma'am?

A big, burly man visited the pastor's home and asked to see the minister's wife, a woman well known for her charitable impulses.

"Madam," he said in a broken voice, "I wish to draw your attention to the terrible plight of a poor family in this district. The father is dead, the mother is too ill to work, and the nine children are starving. They are about to be forced out into the cold, empty streets unless someone pays their rent, which amounts to $400."

"How terrible!" exclaimed the preacher's wife. "May I ask who you are?"

The sympathetic visitor applied his handkerchief to his eyes. "Why, I'm the landlord," he sobbed.

Author Unknown   

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2013 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

{essential truths} Hand

Whether you're younger or older,

if your mother wants to hold your hand,

there’s probably a good reason.

{this memory} 71

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

Daddy - gone but certainly not forgotten.

I don't recall this occasion, but this photo was taken around 1953. I would have been four or five. At that time, we lived on Naval Station Norfolk, and this was in the quarters assigned to my father as Executive Officer of Camp Allen, the on-shore brig for the Atlantic Fleet.

This looks to be an early summer's evening - warm enough to have the windows wide open but still light enough to see the neighboring quarters about 100 feet away.

I loved the years I lived on that base, and I found all kinds of little boy ways to get into trouble. I was, as they say, an expert, but we'll save those anecdotes for another post. Looking at this image reminds me of how proud I was of my father and how much I loved him.

I am filled with wonderful memories and am a most fortunate man.

TGB

Lions And Tigers And Bears

Who knows what triggers memories. It may have been a word, an image on television, or a elderly neuron exploding like a supernova as it spits out the memory it once held. I don't know.

I know I was sitting on the couch with my younger daughter, and I said, "Did I ever tell you about the time ..." I followed that, of course, with a recollection I hadn't recollected in quite a while.

At the end of my first year teaching, I took off on an extended camping trip with a companion I had known since high school. It started in Luray, Virginia, where my friend's family had a farm. We drove the length of the Blue Ridge Parkway and into Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Camping along the way, we were getting quite good at setting up and breaking down.

Exiting westward, we crossed Tennessee and stuck our noses in Kentucky and Illinois briefly. Crossing the Mississippi at Cairo, we stopped and saw my father's mother in southern Missouri. Just north of Little Rock we looked in on some of my mother's cousins. In Texarcana we stopped to see more maternal relatives as we headed for Natchitoches, Louisiana, where my mother's brother (and a namesake of mine) lived. We were headed for New Orleans, and my uncle told us of a few places to visit along the Mississippi River.

After New Orleans, it was off to Atlanta to see old college friends and a Braves game. We returned exhausted to Luray after about two weeks and half dozen campgrounds.

What I told my daughter about was the first night camping on this journey. We had set up in Doughton Park Campground along the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina. As we checked in, we were warned that bears had been visiting, and we should put all food in the car before sleeping.

Ever mindful that I didn't want to be mauled, I dutifully put everything in the car after dinner. And so to bed. I did hear some noises during the night and heard neighbors talking about the bears. I didn't want to know.

Rising the next morning, I noticed a tin can in which I had left some grease drippings from cooking had been licked clean. This doofus hadn't thought about that, and the bear had come onto my site.

The bear had come into my site! And with nothing but some canvas between him and me. Yikes! I still don't like to think about it. Although I know the park rangers were watching, it's not much comfort.

I think the next time I'm told there are bears around, I'll just keep driving. It was, nevertheless, a great trip.

I'm a lucky man.

TGB   

Does Size Matter?

I like lighthouses. Always have. You could even say I have a passion for lighthouses. I would.

I grew up not far from two and visited them often as I grew up, especially the older one, which was open and climbable. It was a good place to find a bit of solitude, and lighthouses quickly became important to me. I have travelled out of my way to see and photograph dozens of them. One wall of my office is covered with framed images of them. I have a shelf filled with miniatures of some of my favorites. Friends mail me postcards of lighthouses they've seen and give me stamps, books, and all manner of knickknack related to lighthouses. I've even given public lectures on lighthouses.

It may not sound like it, but I am selective. Having grown up near the ocean, I have a preference for the large "landfall" lights, especially those of the east coast. And yes, size matters. The earth is curved, and the taller the lighthouse, the further out to sea you can be and still see it - important if you're about to bump into North America (make "landfall") or sail among the dangerous shoals which extend about ten miles into the Atlantic from Cape Hatteras.

The Cape Hatteras Lighthouse is my favorite, and she shines about 200 feet above sea level. At that height the light is easily visible from 25 miles out to sea. The structure is the tallest light in the US and the 23rd tallest in the world, and I watched them move it a half-mile inland over a decade ago. There is a lot to admire.

But such facts are not what it's all about. It's the symbolism of a lighthouse that I love. There it stands, alone and resolute, as a beacon of help for souls in perilous circumstance. Isn't that what we all want when we're feeling lost or in danger or searching for salvation - something or someone to show us the way, to remind us that there are places and spaces of security waiting for us?

I respect its ability to weather all manner of storm, and I like that its height draws our vision upward into the skies, another reminder to hold our head up in spite of unpleasant times that may try to pull it down.

I like lighthouses, but I positively love the inspiration they offer.

It seems to me that as a teacher, I am a lighthouse – at least for those who need one. A couple of years ago an alumnus from decades ago wrote: “I am honest when I say that I have a lot of great things to be thankful for in my life … [and] … you are without a doubt one of them. You had a profound impact on me and who I am (probably more than you will ever know). So just multiply that by the number of students you've had and friends you've known over the years since. Even if you only touched 1% of them [as] you did me, that's an AMAZING number of people. That’s an amazing number of very lucky people.”

I remember this student very well. He was intelligent enough to have been self-educating, but he needed a lighthouse. I’m glad I was there.

When I was student, there were a few special professors who were my lighthouses. So when I look around my office at those varied images of lighthouses, I am looking at reminders of what I always hoped to be as a professor. In 16 months, I shall retire from teaching - after 40 years. I'll be a most happy man if I did, in fact, help just 1% of my students as I did this student.

TGB  

{this moment} 71

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past - sometimes a place with many moments - but somewhere along my life's Journey over which I wish to linger a bit and savor each memory it evokes. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2013 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB   

At The Construction Site

There was a cathedral still under construction, and the workers had rigged a "cage elevator" on the inside so they could get materials up to and down from the upper floors.

A characteristic of these "cage elevators" was that the doors (or the gates) must be closed manually for them to be "called" to another floor.

One day one of the workers, Peter by name, took the elevator to the top floor, and it was subsequently needed on the first floor by the sexton. Unfortunately, Peter forgot and left the door open.

After the sexton rang for the elevator a couple times, to no avail of course, and he yelled up for the worker to send the lift back down. Visitors to the cathedral were treated to this sight: The sexton of the cathedral, head tipped up, yelling up to the heavens:

"PETER! CLOSE THE GATES!!!"

Author Unknown   

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2013 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

{essential truths} Crowd

Sooner or later you'll discover
that once in a while 
even two can be a crowd.

{this memory} 70

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

Whoa, what a beauty - my younger daughter. Since I let her drive my Miata once in a while, she wanted to clean her up. She did a great job.

This is also why I still have a baseball bat - to help create the right mental attitude in any of those young men who might also think she's gorgeous!

Although this was maybe a decade ago, my daughter is still beautiful, and I still have the Miata. When I bought it on Jefferson's 250th birthday, it was already four years old, a 1990 model built in 1989. It had on 2500 miles on it, and I just turned 42,000 miles - not bad for a 24 year old car. Vrooooom.

I am filled with many wonderful memories and am a most fortunate man.

TGB

I Now Pronounce You Oneshoeshy

A couple of weeks ago I posted this photo of my grandson to FaceBook and made a reference to Oneshoeshy. Evidently not everyone understood. Here's the story behind the name - originally posted in June of 2011.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I generally try to stay upbeat in these posts, and for me what follows is upbeat. It may, however, seem a little sad to some of you, and I apologize in advance if it
strikes you that way. Now that I have explained the meaning (see The Lost Symbolism) behind this blog's one-time subtitle (you can still see it represented in the url), some of you - ever curious - may have wondered what "Oneshoeshy" is all about. Why do I use that as a handle? Does it symbolize something as well? Of course, it does.

No, I haven't misplaced a shoe. There is other meaning behind it, but it would not be obvious. It relates to one of my physical challenges – in particular the absence of sensory or motor function in my left arm and hand (the result of nerve scarring following repeated courses of radiation therapy). "But wait," you say. "It reads 'shoe' not glove or sleeve."

Yeah, I know. In the old days when we mostly used AOL Instant Messaging, my name was Bedwyr Bedrydant. Some of you know him as Sir Bedivere (or Bedevere), one of King Arthur’s Knights of Roundtable. My name translates from Welsh as Bedivere of the Perfect Sinews which is ironic as you'll see, and some of my maternal ancestors were Raglands (from Raglan Castle near Cardiff in Wales).

I selected Sir Bedivere, in particular, for a number of reasons. First, he may have been based on a real person. Second, at least one medieval description said this of him: "and although he was one-handed, no three warriors drew blood in the same field faster than he." This, of course, was the most important reason. Third, in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Sir Bedevere the Wise is portrayed as a master of the extremely odd logic of ancient times. He exclaims at one point "... and that ... is how we know the earth to be banana-shaped." You have to love it.

           Sir Bedivere on right in blue.

So I identified with the Welsh connection, his possible reality, the one-handed competence, and the sense of humor. He was also the one who, at a dying King Arthur's request, threw Excalibur back to the Lady of the Lake. That's cool too.

"But, Thom, Oneshoeshy?" Well, a few years ago I was engaged in a fair amount of eBay selling and needed an alias and an email address separate from my work email. As I played with the cute and the catchy and the literate, I found nothing I liked. I wanted something that resonated with Bedwyr and all that it meant to me. Onehand, Onehanduseless, Righty, Lefty, Oneglove, etc., - none of those possessed the je ne sais quoi that I wanted.

Then "Oneshoeshy" just sort of popped into my head. Had it been "Onegloveshy," my friends would have "got it," but at the same time, it might have been a little too direct for comfort. Since I knew my own story, "Oneshoeshy" resonated with me. I knew it was a reference to my hand, and I didn’t particularly care whether others knew that or not. I was certain, however, that others would see it as rhythmic and with a nice ring to it, and they have.

Can you say it without smiling? I can't, and if you say it repeatedly, you sound like The Little Engine That Could - an enduring metaphor for a powerful philosophy of life.

TGB

Mighty Finn - Update #9

Well, here I am - getting ready for another flight.

I love airports. No, really - I do!

One of the first things I do upon arrival

is see what Maddox is up to.

I don't think he's noticed me yet.

Christmas Eve came quickly,

and 30 of the extended family came over for dinner.

We shared a few gifts, and I showed off my levitation skills.

Last month I told you my cousin said I waas a chick magnet.

I think this is what he meant - Tara.

And this - but I'm not sure my Aunt Megan counts.

Even the younger ladies too. Evidently.

If I get the chance though, I'm playing Angry Birds.

Plenty of time for girls later.

I think I like this Christmas thing.

The next morning I found a whole lot of really neat stuff - 

like a tunnel to crawl through.

And you should hear this Elmo guy laugh.

This is my first winter, and one thing I don't like

is having to get so bundled up to go outside.

But the coats come off when we get back home,

and I can have some serious playtime.

That's my grandpa's baseball hat.

And I can be with my grandpa. He's big.

One last thing I'll tell you - it's tough to grow up.

How was I to know you had to do laundry?!
See you next month.

{this moment} 70

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past - sometimes a place with many moments - but somewhere along my life's Journey over which I wish to linger a bit and savor each memory it evokes. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2013 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB   

What Hath Caused It?

A drunk man who smelled like beer sat down on a subway seat next to a priest. The man's tie was stained, his face was smeared with red lipstick, and a half-empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket.

He opened his newspaper and began to read. After a few minutes the man turned to the priest and asked, "Say, Father, what causes arthritis?"

The priest replied, "My son, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap wicked women, too much alcohol, and comtempt for your fellow man."

"Well, I'll be darned!" the drunk muttered, returning to his newspaper. The priest, thinking about what he said, nudged the drunk and apologized. "I'm sorry to come on so strong. How long have you had arthritis?"

"I don't have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does."

Author Unknown   

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

{picture perfect} Daisies

Aye, lassies and laddies,
'twas a warm summer's day in 2005
on the grounds of Edinburgh Castle.