While the determined Sladed spent his Saturday at the desert in a 102.5-mile bike race, I participated in my own athletic challenge. Sladed burned 4,500 calories in his 6-hour 52-minute race; which is pretty good. But I bet I burned 10 percent of that today when I swam one mile, biked 6 miles (or 15% of Sladed’s achievement) and began to run two miles before getting a debilitating cramp in my calf. Sladed is training for an Ironman Triathlon and I’m conducting a Wussathlon.
Please don’t misunderstand, I am pushing my body further than I have since 70 pounds ago, but I much farther to do. Still, I am constantly amazed at how far the body can be pushed in the first place. Six months ago I couldn’t walk for 15 minutes on a treadmill and now, barring nasty cramps, I can usually run – with some walking – three miles on a treadmill. And I can swim up to 2.5 miles in a workout where I could barely swim 1,000 yards last May.
A lot of what I have been able to do is the direct result of watching Sladed continue to push his body to new and amazing limits. If I didn’t have him as an example, I am not sure I would have been as aggressive at testing the limits of my own body. So, I thank him for leading by example.
The interim news of my efforts is all good, too. Back in April, I finally had enough of my huge gut and poor health. I began a program that was something like the Biggest Loser TV show and lost 14 pounds in six weeks, dropping my weight from 246 to 232. I learned to make better choices in the food I put in my body and, as important, I began to exercise more regularly and more vigorously.
Since then, I am exercising on average 5-6 days each week and, while my diet has slipped some, I am still eating much better and much less. I now weigh 214 pounds, a loss of 32 pounds, and have the goal to be under 200 pounds by the end of the year. This also happens to have been my New Year’s resolution that I had no real belief I could keep. I wasn’t even sure I would try all that hard to fulfill the resolution.
My doctor even likes the results as my most recent blood test reveals that I am no longer technically a diabetic, my blood pressure is actually a bit low so my medication has been cut back, my cholesterol is also low, and a lot of the ailments that used to plague me no longer occur. In short, I feel marvelous.
As I am sure Sladed would concur, regular training and regular focus on diet leads the body and the mind to accept this as your normal lifestyle. Something clicks at some point that almost seems like a compulsion, but I am sure it is just the body settling into a routine. I think the routine can be fragile as I have been in this kind of shape before; about the time that Bill died. His death likely contributed to knocking me off course and, once you begin to slip, it’s such a slippery slope.
And I guess that’s the message that you, the reader, were likely looking for. Weight loss, or anything that requires such concentration, is a full time job and so difficult to keep up with each and every day – especially when tasty ginger snaps or gummy cinnamon bears are within reach. But I am thankful that I have Sladed around to set an example and the support and encouragement of my family to continue with this very worthwhile endeavor. Thank you to you all.
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Saturday, May 31, 2008
I'm 16 Inches Smaller!
I've been on a diet for two weeks and all I've lost is two weeks. – Totie Fields
Let me first start by pointing out that I am still fat. But with a little hard work over the past six weeks, I am a little less fat and I am pretty happy with that.
My fitness club offered a six-week total body makeover class that met twice each week and offered training tips and nutritional information and meal suggestions. It was run by a woman named Jessica and, for the moment, I would like thank her for changing so many poor habits and giving me a much-needed nudge to better health. I use the “for the moment” part in the last sentence as a mere qualifier because anyone who knows me knows I have difficulty sustaining things. The proof is in my weight which has fluctuated wildly over the past 10-15 years.
Having made that qualifier, I should also tell you that I view the recent change in my eating and exercise regime as something that needs to be life-changing or I won’t have as much of a life to change later on. A number of my diet and exercise pushes have seemed easier than this one and I suspect the ravages of age and poor health has caught up to me and has made this last go-round, particularly the additional exercise, more difficult. In other words, I view this as something of a last stand to better my health and I really need to stick with it this time.
During the course we were given increasingly more difficult workouts and had our menu diaries reviewed by Jessica. Fortunately Mrs. Laz read Jessica’s menus so I just had to ask her what to eat. If only I could have gotten her to do the workouts for me I would be a lot less sore today.
The offshoot of the program is that I came in second place in my group with 14 pounds lost in the six weeks. My own scale had me losing more like 18 pounds but I’ll take an official 14 pounds in such a short time any day of the week. My body fat dropped from 25.7 percent to 21.3 percent and I lost a total of 16 inches off of various parts of my body (no, not there). The number of inches lost was the most in the group of about 20 participants and included four inches off my waist.
I think I could have lost more during the six weeks because I was in Latin America for one week and took two separate trips to Ohio so I missed five of the 12 meetings. I am continuing on with keeping a good log of my diet and exercising every day (or nearly every day). I am getting great encouragement from my family and from Sladed who even came to cheer me on for my final weigh-in; which was nice, but ultimately his cheering on was going to have no affect on the outcome. However I did get to "out" him while he was there. One thing is clear, it’s great to know so many people are pulling for me.
I would post the before and after photos except the after photo still has a little more of me than I am willing to share – especially if a certain Diane happens to take a look at this blog and learns a startling truth that could cause my chances with her to drop.
Let me first start by pointing out that I am still fat. But with a little hard work over the past six weeks, I am a little less fat and I am pretty happy with that.
My fitness club offered a six-week total body makeover class that met twice each week and offered training tips and nutritional information and meal suggestions. It was run by a woman named Jessica and, for the moment, I would like thank her for changing so many poor habits and giving me a much-needed nudge to better health. I use the “for the moment” part in the last sentence as a mere qualifier because anyone who knows me knows I have difficulty sustaining things. The proof is in my weight which has fluctuated wildly over the past 10-15 years.
Having made that qualifier, I should also tell you that I view the recent change in my eating and exercise regime as something that needs to be life-changing or I won’t have as much of a life to change later on. A number of my diet and exercise pushes have seemed easier than this one and I suspect the ravages of age and poor health has caught up to me and has made this last go-round, particularly the additional exercise, more difficult. In other words, I view this as something of a last stand to better my health and I really need to stick with it this time.
During the course we were given increasingly more difficult workouts and had our menu diaries reviewed by Jessica. Fortunately Mrs. Laz read Jessica’s menus so I just had to ask her what to eat. If only I could have gotten her to do the workouts for me I would be a lot less sore today.
The offshoot of the program is that I came in second place in my group with 14 pounds lost in the six weeks. My own scale had me losing more like 18 pounds but I’ll take an official 14 pounds in such a short time any day of the week. My body fat dropped from 25.7 percent to 21.3 percent and I lost a total of 16 inches off of various parts of my body (no, not there). The number of inches lost was the most in the group of about 20 participants and included four inches off my waist.
I think I could have lost more during the six weeks because I was in Latin America for one week and took two separate trips to Ohio so I missed five of the 12 meetings. I am continuing on with keeping a good log of my diet and exercising every day (or nearly every day). I am getting great encouragement from my family and from Sladed who even came to cheer me on for my final weigh-in; which was nice, but ultimately his cheering on was going to have no affect on the outcome. However I did get to "out" him while he was there. One thing is clear, it’s great to know so many people are pulling for me.
I would post the before and after photos except the after photo still has a little more of me than I am willing to share – especially if a certain Diane happens to take a look at this blog and learns a startling truth that could cause my chances with her to drop.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
The Perils Of A Roller Coaster Life
Funny how plans can change so suddenly and have such a ubiquitous effect on so many parts of life, and on so many lives. Those who are close to me know I was working on a “big deal.” It’s not unusual for me to be working on a big deal as my business life is nothing more than chasing one big deal after another. Like most big deals, they tend to be elusive and you lose far more than you get. Well, it looks like the latest big deal isn’t going to happen, although that could change again before I finish this post, such has been the roller coaster ride on this one.
It’s not the fact that this latest big deal hasn’t come trough that bothers me, it’s the recent string of perhaps dozens of big deals that haven’t come through that is shaking my confidence. I’ve been on a roll of bad luck, broken promises and bad choices of people I have trusted. It makes me want to take stock of the whole “big deal” way of doing business and look for a simpler way to earn a living. But, of course, that’s not really my personality.
I am a person of faith who believes things happen for a reason and that we are to learn lessons from each disappointment and success. But I am sort of stuck at the moment trying to understand what the two-year streak of “bad luck” is all about. Could it be as simple as just learning how to endure? In my most calm moments, I can see it that way or see it as a way to toughen me up or even just be smarter about the people I deal with. In my more maudlin times, I question my hopes and dreams and if they are meant for others.
Don’t get me totally wrong, I have enjoyed a successful business life by most standards and I couldn’t have wished for or expected a more complete family life. I am more bothered by the fact that I have reached a point in my business where success should be more frequent and reliable and where I should be making better choices in my side ventures.
Last year, in one of my never-ending searches to better my financial position, I started a business with a very close friend. The friend turned out to be not as close as I would have imagined, lied a great deal, chased his own hugely unrealistic dreams and cost me a bundle of money and our friendship. What’s the lesson in this one; not to trust even your closest friends? Not to work with friends? I will likely never know the answer to that. I have made more mistakes in trusting others lately, but this one is a very deep and profound disappointment that makes me question things on many different levels and I have not yet put it in a forum like this except in an abstract way. Now, I suppose, it needs to be said.
It is difficult to convey the ripple effect in these up and down moments (and as of this paragraph, my “big deal” is back on again) and what it means to my family life and current transitory lifestyle. For the moment I am the proverbial man without a country – or a home or home life at least. I have one foot stuck in the mud in Sacramento, I have my wife and my love in San Diego and my dreams for a more complete professional life in faraway places. I had my own plans (kept largely to myself) on a series of moves, but they were dependent on the most recent “big deal.” Without it, I am short a plan.
My mother almost marveled at my ability to cope with diversity. Perhaps because she said it so often I tried all that much harder to live up to her expectation. It could be, however, that I am beginning to reach my limit on things that require me to cope. At my age, I should be coasting more and having to cope less. Finding comfort and peace in my turbulent head seems to be the answer, getting there looks like the challenge.
It’s not the fact that this latest big deal hasn’t come trough that bothers me, it’s the recent string of perhaps dozens of big deals that haven’t come through that is shaking my confidence. I’ve been on a roll of bad luck, broken promises and bad choices of people I have trusted. It makes me want to take stock of the whole “big deal” way of doing business and look for a simpler way to earn a living. But, of course, that’s not really my personality.
I am a person of faith who believes things happen for a reason and that we are to learn lessons from each disappointment and success. But I am sort of stuck at the moment trying to understand what the two-year streak of “bad luck” is all about. Could it be as simple as just learning how to endure? In my most calm moments, I can see it that way or see it as a way to toughen me up or even just be smarter about the people I deal with. In my more maudlin times, I question my hopes and dreams and if they are meant for others.
Don’t get me totally wrong, I have enjoyed a successful business life by most standards and I couldn’t have wished for or expected a more complete family life. I am more bothered by the fact that I have reached a point in my business where success should be more frequent and reliable and where I should be making better choices in my side ventures.
Last year, in one of my never-ending searches to better my financial position, I started a business with a very close friend. The friend turned out to be not as close as I would have imagined, lied a great deal, chased his own hugely unrealistic dreams and cost me a bundle of money and our friendship. What’s the lesson in this one; not to trust even your closest friends? Not to work with friends? I will likely never know the answer to that. I have made more mistakes in trusting others lately, but this one is a very deep and profound disappointment that makes me question things on many different levels and I have not yet put it in a forum like this except in an abstract way. Now, I suppose, it needs to be said.
It is difficult to convey the ripple effect in these up and down moments (and as of this paragraph, my “big deal” is back on again) and what it means to my family life and current transitory lifestyle. For the moment I am the proverbial man without a country – or a home or home life at least. I have one foot stuck in the mud in Sacramento, I have my wife and my love in San Diego and my dreams for a more complete professional life in faraway places. I had my own plans (kept largely to myself) on a series of moves, but they were dependent on the most recent “big deal.” Without it, I am short a plan.
My mother almost marveled at my ability to cope with diversity. Perhaps because she said it so often I tried all that much harder to live up to her expectation. It could be, however, that I am beginning to reach my limit on things that require me to cope. At my age, I should be coasting more and having to cope less. Finding comfort and peace in my turbulent head seems to be the answer, getting there looks like the challenge.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Peace On Earth
In the second half of the first decade of the new Millennium, there is a lot of crap going on. We’re a world at war – the kind with bombs and bullets and knives and hand grenades – and a clash between cultures not seen since a Millennium ago. We may be in the midst of global warming or global cooling but, either way, it’s bad for real estate prices, there’s anti-American sentiment around the world unless one gets to buy things priced by the dollar rather than the Pound or the Euro, and there is seemingly a rampant restlessness that has not been around since perhaps the Great Depression.But for one slice in time this year, from December 15 for those who share Hanukkah, through December 25 for those who celebrate Christmas, until January 7 for my friends who observe the Orthodox Christmas, we forget about all the troubles on the outside. Instead we enter the homes of our family and friends with love and the warmth of human compassion. We share stories and gifts and, if I am really lucky this year (and the gifts are not based on prior behavior), I will be happy beyond the riches of avarice. Even if I don’t get the gifts I want and I get something completely useless, I will still have the gift of my lovely wife and adoring children by my side as they open their presents and get whatever it is their loving hearts desire, even though I won’t.
These kinds of nights always put me in a Christmas mood, and a giving mood at that. When I was a kid, I spent the evenings leading up to Christmas in Michigan’s wintry weather, transfixed by the colorful Christmas lights glowing against the powdery snow. In those moments of bliss, it was difficult to concentrate on the correct amounts of freezing water and small rocks to put in the snowball that was soon to be aimed at Mollie Barbachym for no other reason than I had a crush on her.
I often crawled between the presents under the Christmas tree and looked up to see the blinking lights and smell the fresh cut pine. There was the time I knocked the tree over but quick thinking allowed me to blame the cat. I don’t remember seeing that cat again but my presents didn’t vanish that year, I can report. Being a victim of circumstances like this can’t happen in the future because now we’re old and have a fake tree so no need to mistake the smell of plastic for pine.
So much of the holiday spirit comes from the traditions we establish as families. Since I was very young we have opened our presents on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas morning. This fine custom came about when I was about five years. My two brothers and I woke up at 4 a.m., certain that Santa had already left his loot. He had, in fact, displayed all the Christmas presents under the tree and we three brothers began to have the time of our lives playing with our new toys. I remember Peter got a Union uniform and I got a Confederate one despite the fact we both strongly sided with the Union. The buttons on the wool suit were a bit tricky so I sought help. I went to visit my parents who were soundly asleep. I figured they wouldn’t mind helping me out with the uniform that Santa had so carefully purchased, and it was now nearing 5 a.m. so they should have been getting up soon just to see what Santa had left. To my utter shock, my mother was quite unhappy that I had asked for help at that hour and she and my father bounded out of bed to see Bill asleep under the tree with chocolate smeared over his face and Peter stacking his new gifts on “his side” of the room. For some reason we were told the truth about Santa the next year and how he arrives in Michigan the night before and delivers his presents shortly after the dinner dishes are done.
Now that I have children of my own, Mrs. Laz and I decided to keep the same Christmas Eve tradition alive and open our presents in the flickering light of the Christmas tree. Mrs. Laz at first thought I had a hidden agenda in wanting to open the presents early, but I assured her it was better for all and we could avoid a similar shock that befell my parents. And if I got to open my presents at the same time as the kids, so be it. I probably could wait until morning if I tried really hard and we also got to choose a few presents and open them on Christmas Eve, but so far that hasn’t been necessary.
Another tradition in our family is equally as cute. My family enjoys wrapping my presents and giving me the chance to guess what they are. I admit I have an uncanny ability to figure out their carefully chosen gifts. At first there was frustration as I uncovered what their hard-earned money had provided, but after a while a good laugh was had by all. My skills have slipped a bit in this area of late and I have taken to using the crutch of going into their e-mails and looking for the online purchase receipts. It’s all in good fun and I am sure this is a story that will be told at my funeral – which will be a long time from now, or so I assume.
The holiday season can bring out greed in people too, so I’ve noticed. The Boy has a girlfriend who is rather Elf-like. She is short, happy all the time, drinks gallons of maple syrup and has smelly feet. However, she has a list of Christmas demands and one was for me to devote an entire post to her. I am a very, very, very busy person who can’t just drop everything out of my very, very, very busy day and devote 100 or 200 or even 300 words just to her, if for no other reason than I am so busy, especially these days as I am helping Mrs. Laz with the buying and wrapping of presents and all other assorted Christmas duties that are so numerous I don’t even remember them all. Anyway, I am far too busy to just write about The Ber – that’s his Elfy girlfriend’s name – and I think it’s a shame during the holiday season that she would expect this of me. And I am also so terribly busy right now as this post will attest. Which reminds me, I think the New Mexico Bowl is on right now and who doesn’t want to watch University of New Mexico match up against San Jose State? Good thing I have Tivo. Well, back to Ber. I can’t write an entire post on her but I have something that will sum her up all together. So CLICK HERE and you will get to know her as we know her. I hope the link doesn’t die out soon.
In truth, this season brings out the opportunity to escape all the problems in the world. It also links us with our past. How often do any of us trot out movies made 50 and 60 years ago like It’s A Wonderful Life or White Christmas and listen to the raspy voices of Nat King Cole and Burl Ives and the tender voice of Bing Crosby singing Christmas carols? These movies and songs tug us back to our childhood memories of opening presents with our family, some who are no longer with us and some who are new to our lives. The holiday spirit is alive in everyone and, in my faith, for just this one night, we come a little closer, smile together, hug a little longer and hope for the miracle of peace on Earth and good will toward all. Merry Christmas and happy holidays to everyone..
Friday, September 29, 2006
Birthdays and Blogging
This weekend, we’re headed to San Diego to celebrate Sladed 50th birthday. I am really looking forward to it. Not only will a bunch of us be getting to together and acting like the zero is removed from our age, but we will be able to swim together for the first time in decades and, with a little luck and better swim fins, I might even win a few sets.
I am also hoping that this weekend can be the start of the first International Blogging Summit where we weighty-thinking bloggers can get together and discuss, well, blogging. My proposal for the first agenda item is for Italiphil to show the others how we can make enough money at this so we can quit our day jobs and bore the hell out of the rest of you. Boy, that would be fun.
I am also hoping that this weekend can be the start of the first International Blogging Summit where we weighty-thinking bloggers can get together and discuss, well, blogging. My proposal for the first agenda item is for Italiphil to show the others how we can make enough money at this so we can quit our day jobs and bore the hell out of the rest of you. Boy, that would be fun.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Living With Diabetes
Most of you know I have Type-2 diabetes. Well maybe some of you don’t as you have seen me gulp down a slice of chocolate cake like a doomed man one minute before midnight. If you don’t mind, can I say part of that last sentence again slowly? Gulp...down...a...slice...of...chocolate cake…mmmmmmmmmm. Therein may lay one of the causes of my ailment: chocolate cake.
The truth is, diabetes is no fun. The list of things you’re not supposed to eat is long, varied and tasty and the temptations are everywhere. I can’t eat cake, cookies, pie, candy bars, ice cream, popsicles, or Cracker Jacks. I can’t drink soft drinks, most wines, cocktails and beer. Hell, I can’t even drink milk (lactose is a sugar), any kind of juice, and I can't eat most fruit (fructose is a natural sugar but the body can’t tell the difference).
Then there is another list that I am supposed to stay away from, and that is any food with carbohydrates, especially complex carbs. This means I really shouldn’t eat pasta and, if I do, I have to be careful that the tomato sauce is low in sugar. Breads of all sorts, one of my Achilles Heels, are a no-no as is the jam I desire to put on it. Potatoes are high in carbohydrates and so are other starchy vegetables and fun things like the best-tasting peanut butter.
I often feel sorry for myself, especially as I watch those around me ordering desert while I try to drool discretely. But the fact is, I have eaten my lifetime share of sweets and carbs; I have just eaten them faster than most people do – in my case, by age 42. My mom wasn’t exactly a good role model because she had a huge sweet-tooth and, if you can believe this, once a week when we were kids, she fed us donuts for lunch. And not just any kind of donuts, the sweetest, most decadent kind of donuts. Even one of our dogs had diabetes, probably from eating table scraps.
Recently I found out that a good friend of mine has diabetes. He’s coming to grips with it the same way I did eight years ago and I can tell you it’s not fun. Like me, suddenly many of the simple pleasures in life have been grabbed from him and it didn’t happen at an age for us when we’d be accused of being flexible. We’ve had to learn to read those tiny nutritional labels that we never bothered to look at before and get booklets to tell us how many grams of sugar or carbs are in food that can’t be labeled, or factor the approximate evils of restaurant food.
To ensure we’ve been well-behaved on our diet, we’re rewarded with frequent finger pricking and blood-letting to get to know our blood sugar levels. Mostly this is frustrating because we get high readings when we think we’ve been good and low readings following a dinner made solely from pumpkin pie (actually that never happened, I just wish it would). The point is, there are other chemical things happening in our mysterious body that affect our blood sugar including feeling a bit under the weather, lack of exercise or being too hungry (yes, not enough food in the body and the body will store what you do have as sugar for more energy and put out a higher reading).
My advice to my friend is to not worry too much about it. Be a good boy at first and stab your fingers and squeeze out the drop of blood so you can understand the way foods and activity affect blood sugar levels. This will also be a useful exercise in limiting the number of lectures from wives, dieticians and nurses. The pills are better now then they were when I first found out I had diabetes and while they will add a few pounds to the body, your blood sugar will go down and you won’t suffer from days when a single pill can lower your blood sugar to a near-comatose 50. After a while, you will be able to rely on you’re A1-C readings which are a three-month average of your blood sugar and a better indicator of where your stable levels are.
Diabetes is a life-altering disease but very manageable. It’s certainly more manageable the younger we are. I know my friend can’t be as active as he would like, but hopefully he can take 10-minute walks with his wife and then work his way up to daily 30-mintue walks. And, yes, I am aware that she will nag at him for the full 30-minute walk, but that is only because she loves him (I think).
The truth is, diabetes is no fun. The list of things you’re not supposed to eat is long, varied and tasty and the temptations are everywhere. I can’t eat cake, cookies, pie, candy bars, ice cream, popsicles, or Cracker Jacks. I can’t drink soft drinks, most wines, cocktails and beer. Hell, I can’t even drink milk (lactose is a sugar), any kind of juice, and I can't eat most fruit (fructose is a natural sugar but the body can’t tell the difference).
Then there is another list that I am supposed to stay away from, and that is any food with carbohydrates, especially complex carbs. This means I really shouldn’t eat pasta and, if I do, I have to be careful that the tomato sauce is low in sugar. Breads of all sorts, one of my Achilles Heels, are a no-no as is the jam I desire to put on it. Potatoes are high in carbohydrates and so are other starchy vegetables and fun things like the best-tasting peanut butter.
I often feel sorry for myself, especially as I watch those around me ordering desert while I try to drool discretely. But the fact is, I have eaten my lifetime share of sweets and carbs; I have just eaten them faster than most people do – in my case, by age 42. My mom wasn’t exactly a good role model because she had a huge sweet-tooth and, if you can believe this, once a week when we were kids, she fed us donuts for lunch. And not just any kind of donuts, the sweetest, most decadent kind of donuts. Even one of our dogs had diabetes, probably from eating table scraps.
Recently I found out that a good friend of mine has diabetes. He’s coming to grips with it the same way I did eight years ago and I can tell you it’s not fun. Like me, suddenly many of the simple pleasures in life have been grabbed from him and it didn’t happen at an age for us when we’d be accused of being flexible. We’ve had to learn to read those tiny nutritional labels that we never bothered to look at before and get booklets to tell us how many grams of sugar or carbs are in food that can’t be labeled, or factor the approximate evils of restaurant food.
To ensure we’ve been well-behaved on our diet, we’re rewarded with frequent finger pricking and blood-letting to get to know our blood sugar levels. Mostly this is frustrating because we get high readings when we think we’ve been good and low readings following a dinner made solely from pumpkin pie (actually that never happened, I just wish it would). The point is, there are other chemical things happening in our mysterious body that affect our blood sugar including feeling a bit under the weather, lack of exercise or being too hungry (yes, not enough food in the body and the body will store what you do have as sugar for more energy and put out a higher reading).
My advice to my friend is to not worry too much about it. Be a good boy at first and stab your fingers and squeeze out the drop of blood so you can understand the way foods and activity affect blood sugar levels. This will also be a useful exercise in limiting the number of lectures from wives, dieticians and nurses. The pills are better now then they were when I first found out I had diabetes and while they will add a few pounds to the body, your blood sugar will go down and you won’t suffer from days when a single pill can lower your blood sugar to a near-comatose 50. After a while, you will be able to rely on you’re A1-C readings which are a three-month average of your blood sugar and a better indicator of where your stable levels are.
Diabetes is a life-altering disease but very manageable. It’s certainly more manageable the younger we are. I know my friend can’t be as active as he would like, but hopefully he can take 10-minute walks with his wife and then work his way up to daily 30-mintue walks. And, yes, I am aware that she will nag at him for the full 30-minute walk, but that is only because she loves him (I think).
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Rough Water Ahead
Ed-duh-tor's note: My buds were not in the La Jolla Rough Water but at a near equally crazy event in which they swam 1000 meters and then ran a 5K. They survived and lived to tell about it. See Sladed Blog for details and pictures of the surprisingly in shape old men: http://sladed.blogspot.com/2006/08/aquathlon.html
Sunday between 8 a.m. and 9 a.m. my soon to be former best friends will become shark bait. Oh the horror of it all. They will swim in the La Jolla Rough Water Swim, a one-mile race at the Cove in La Jolla. De Woppo and Mr. Sladed will make this bold athletic try for the first time in decades. We all did it as studly young males, but I only tried it once (if I hadn't worn goggles and seen "shadowy things" lurking beneath me, I may have done it again).
In all truth, I wish I was there to join them. Alas, they are in shape and I am not. I am working on it, but they have each other to push themselves and I just have a hyper doctor and old lawyer to swim with up here. Just finishing will be good enough, but it will be interesting to see their times. Guys, please post them on here when you're done. Good luck and don't wear goggles or keep live bait in your Speedo.
Sunday between 8 a.m. and 9 a.m. my soon to be former best friends will become shark bait. Oh the horror of it all. They will swim in the La Jolla Rough Water Swim, a one-mile race at the Cove in La Jolla. De Woppo and Mr. Sladed will make this bold athletic try for the first time in decades. We all did it as studly young males, but I only tried it once (if I hadn't worn goggles and seen "shadowy things" lurking beneath me, I may have done it again).
In all truth, I wish I was there to join them. Alas, they are in shape and I am not. I am working on it, but they have each other to push themselves and I just have a hyper doctor and old lawyer to swim with up here. Just finishing will be good enough, but it will be interesting to see their times. Guys, please post them on here when you're done. Good luck and don't wear goggles or keep live bait in your Speedo.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
The Graduates
Nick graduates from college this week. I am about 80 percent as proud of him as I am of my own kids who also recently graduated. (Note: since Nick isn’t my real kid, much to his surprise, I can’t give him 100 percent backing on this. Sorry.) Many may not know how hard he worked to push himself through junior college and then through a demanding UC Davis schedule and how he did it during the time his peers had already finished school and were well into their careers. It took him an amazing amount of determination and we should all heap praise on him and ask him, “seriously, isn’t it time to grow up?” Special kudos also goes out to my trusted personal, private executive assistant Patrick who just graduated as well. Pat did so while working fulltime at my office and had to endure the fact that Bill and I basically ignored that he was going to college and piled more and more work on him. His prize for graduating, you ask? He gets to still work with me. The secret is; he didn’t need a degree to work for me so he must have done it to accomplish such a difficult goal or to improve him chances for employment with a real company. Maybe that’s why he’s reading the classified section of the newspaper.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Ringing In The New Year
Mrs. Laz and I spent New Years with our old friends Skip and Linda and Phil and Jill. Skip, Phil and the Lazer have been friends since we were 14, which is either a testament to their patience or they are as weird as I am.Skip lives in suburban San Diego and Phil just moved back to the area so it made sense to have us all get together and welcome in the welcome New Year.
Just after Christmas, I was whining to Kellen that it would be nice to see 2005 in the rear window. He told me that there were plenty of sad events that happened in our family this past year, but there were happy things too. We were able to travel a lot together, our business remained successful, we met new friends, and we all had each other. A most interesting perspective and one that can only come from a younger person who hasn’t had the chance to have all the optimism reasoned from him.
Well, I do believe I will take the optimistic point of view for 2006 and know that everything will turn out well for me, my family and my friends.
Oh, and on the two photos, Skip, Phil and I were attempting to recreate the magic of 29 years ago. The first (in case you don’t notice) is a picture of the three of us at the half-century mark. You can see that the years have not been kind to Phil’s hair, Skip’s forehead (and, not pictured, his colon), and my big fat ass. Of course Linda took the photograph and I have heard it said that a bad picture angle can put 20 pounds on someone. This must be the case and not the pounds of chocolate I had for the holidays.
The second picture is when the three of us were celebrating Phil’s 21st birthday in 1977. For seasoned readers you will note this picture has appeared before on the blog. Phil had this picture on his desk at home so the three of us made our best stab at looking like three 21-year-old gay lovers again. Sure hope we pulled it off. And, yes, I was an idiot back then. But not anymore, right?
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
The Pain of Another
Anytime you lose a family member, especially when it occurs so suddenly, you have a special right to declare the entire year a disaster. It's easy to get lost in your own hurt when something like this happens and you tend to see everything through you own eyes and your own pain.
The problem with this myopic view is that you block yourself off from others who are suffering too. Not that you want to get into one-upsmanship on who has it worse, but I can't sit here and tell you I've had the worse go of things on the planet. There are certainly thousands upon thousands of families touched by the Tsunami along the rim of the Indian Ocean, several hurricanes in the Gulf, and three devastating earthquakes in Pakistan. The loss of life and living well are unfathomable and the simple enormity of the disasters almost makes it too difficult to grieve. Almost.
In a certain odd sense, Stalin was right for all the wrong reasons when he said a single death is a tragedy but a million deaths is a statistic. Perhaps it is easier to get your arms around one death and mourn a single loss.
Below is a column by a friend of a friend who writes for a newspaper in Mississippi. He is a gifted writer who usually spends his insight on politics and the government operations in his home state. This year he has suffered through the death of his mother, his wife, his best friend and, unfortunately, soon his twin sister. You often hear that God only gives us what we can handle but I would have my doubts by now were I him. But I don’t think he is a man who doubts God and His plan and for that I am in awe.
I would love to tell you the story of what has happened to him and what I only know of on the periphery, but I know I could never tell it as poetically and with the right mix of words and music as he could himself. Instead, without regard to copyright restrictions, I have posted his entire column. Sort of puts my life in perspective:
By Sid Salter
Not all of life's storms come with wind and water.
I don't know a smooth transition by which I can communicate the level of "uncertainty" my daughter and I have confronted in 2005 along with our extended family and the wonderful friends with whom we've been blessed.
So, here's the blunt assessment on what should be the most joyous day of perhaps the most joyless year of our lives.
Alline Salter, my mother, passed away on April 2 after a long, dreadful illness. I miss my mother, as I've missed my father since his death.
Paula Salter, my wife, passed away May 1 after an even longer, even more dreadful illness. I miss my wife — and watching my daughter grieve for her mother and knowing the depth of her pain cuts me in half.
Sheila Salter Klimetz, my twin sister, is dying of a brain tumor in suburban Memphis. Time is likely very short, according to her oncologist and neurosurgeon.
My very first memory on this planet is the sound of my Sheila's breathing and moving in the baby bed we shared until we were toddlers. Watching this unrelenting cancer take my twin from my family is literally like losing a part of me in the process.
Kate and I spent much of this year together either in intensive care units, hospital rooms or in funeral parlors. We closed two estates and in the process disposed of the personal possessions of two women precious to both of us. It hurt.
But in the midst of this uncertainty came a certainty of sorts. Family members carried us, church family members lifted us up and friends fed us, took care of us and stood behind us through it all. Doctors, funeral home operators and other professionals gave us the strength to deal with the realities we've confronted.
I have never been more certain of the love of my beautiful daughter, the concern of my family or the compassion of my friends. The page will turn on the calendar next week. I can't say I'll be sorry to see this year from Hell in the rear view mirror.
But what of the New Year to come? It's the absolute certainty of change — and of memories.
The problem with this myopic view is that you block yourself off from others who are suffering too. Not that you want to get into one-upsmanship on who has it worse, but I can't sit here and tell you I've had the worse go of things on the planet. There are certainly thousands upon thousands of families touched by the Tsunami along the rim of the Indian Ocean, several hurricanes in the Gulf, and three devastating earthquakes in Pakistan. The loss of life and living well are unfathomable and the simple enormity of the disasters almost makes it too difficult to grieve. Almost.
In a certain odd sense, Stalin was right for all the wrong reasons when he said a single death is a tragedy but a million deaths is a statistic. Perhaps it is easier to get your arms around one death and mourn a single loss.
Below is a column by a friend of a friend who writes for a newspaper in Mississippi. He is a gifted writer who usually spends his insight on politics and the government operations in his home state. This year he has suffered through the death of his mother, his wife, his best friend and, unfortunately, soon his twin sister. You often hear that God only gives us what we can handle but I would have my doubts by now were I him. But I don’t think he is a man who doubts God and His plan and for that I am in awe.
I would love to tell you the story of what has happened to him and what I only know of on the periphery, but I know I could never tell it as poetically and with the right mix of words and music as he could himself. Instead, without regard to copyright restrictions, I have posted his entire column. Sort of puts my life in perspective:
By Sid Salter
Not all of life's storms come with wind and water.
I don't know a smooth transition by which I can communicate the level of "uncertainty" my daughter and I have confronted in 2005 along with our extended family and the wonderful friends with whom we've been blessed.
So, here's the blunt assessment on what should be the most joyous day of perhaps the most joyless year of our lives.
Alline Salter, my mother, passed away on April 2 after a long, dreadful illness. I miss my mother, as I've missed my father since his death.
Paula Salter, my wife, passed away May 1 after an even longer, even more dreadful illness. I miss my wife — and watching my daughter grieve for her mother and knowing the depth of her pain cuts me in half.
Sheila Salter Klimetz, my twin sister, is dying of a brain tumor in suburban Memphis. Time is likely very short, according to her oncologist and neurosurgeon.
My very first memory on this planet is the sound of my Sheila's breathing and moving in the baby bed we shared until we were toddlers. Watching this unrelenting cancer take my twin from my family is literally like losing a part of me in the process.
Kate and I spent much of this year together either in intensive care units, hospital rooms or in funeral parlors. We closed two estates and in the process disposed of the personal possessions of two women precious to both of us. It hurt.
But in the midst of this uncertainty came a certainty of sorts. Family members carried us, church family members lifted us up and friends fed us, took care of us and stood behind us through it all. Doctors, funeral home operators and other professionals gave us the strength to deal with the realities we've confronted.
I have never been more certain of the love of my beautiful daughter, the concern of my family or the compassion of my friends. The page will turn on the calendar next week. I can't say I'll be sorry to see this year from Hell in the rear view mirror.
But what of the New Year to come? It's the absolute certainty of change — and of memories.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
The Way We Are
Can you believe I'm the "normal" one in this photo? Just thought you would like to know what we all look like these days. There was a photo a million posts ago of the fellow on the left and the one on the right when we were 20 years old. It's amazing how lifelike we are now! Now, the guy in the middle (yes, with the beer bottle) is another story. There is a post about him further down too. I learned all my bad behavior traits from him as well as all my juvenile tendencies.
I wrote a post about each of these two too. I wrote about the one in the middle on the event of his 21st birthday (ancient picture included), which was back in 1911. The one on the left is my old swimming coach who was written about in "Fat Like Me." Do you see how "pudgey" he is? Now you know where we got the nickname. Damn skinny old farts! Don't they know they're supposed to look worse than us when they're 10 years older?All photos used without permission of the photoees. If they attempt to retaliate, I have others....
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Brotherly Bond
I have developed this friendship with a person who shall remain nameless on the Blog, if for no other reason than word getting out of our friendship could endanger his professional future. Suffice to say he is well-connected to the president on both a policy and friendship basis. My initial reaction to meeting people on this level is to trust but verify, even though I tend to idolize them too much at first. Usually I am wrong and they turn out to be a big of a jerk with no redeeming qualities. Like Schwarzenegger turned out to be. Whoops, I mentioned him – how indiscreet I am. Oh well.
On the flip side to my state’s governor is my friend. He shows no sign of being anything other than decent, caring, modest, and accessible. The reason I bring him up is twofold: To disprove the myth peddled by my democrat friends that all those working for the president are evil neo-cons focused on taking over the world and stealing the last nickel from the working poor. And, to make it worse for my dem friends – and you know who you are – is that he tells me there are some other good people working within the inner-circle of the presidency, including those who are considered by many as evil-incarnate. If my friend continues to stand on the pedestal where I have planted him, I’ll take his judgment over others in the Fourth Estate and those with a dubious agenda. My friend was also honest about others he doesn’t feel so charitable about and I suspect it wouldn’t take Kellen long to figure out who he was talking about as you can just follow the trail of bodies. At least he didn’t kill his wife at the convention.
The second reason for bringing this up is to mention the very kind thing my friend does for his brother who has been a paraplegic or quadriplegic for 30 years due to a trampoline accident (yes, Em, it can happen). We were together on the trip to Moscow and he was supposed to keep a tradition going of collecting a piece of the Earth he travels on for the brother who can’t. It turns out my friend is quite forgetful having left his ATM card at a teller machine in Moscow (and failing to cancel it so now some Russian has just bought a car and a year’s supply of vodka), and also left behind his hat and gloves. And he forgot to pick up the dirt. So he wrote me and asked if I would rummage around and liberate a rock or two and send it to him so he could keep his tradition going.
After what happened to Bill, who am to refuse keeping alive a brother-to-brother bond? So I decided I would walk to the Kremlin wall and, once there, figure out how to chisel off a piece without being arrested. I was just about to give the wall a few well-placed kicks when I noticed two chips of the wall resting on the ground. Now I don’t know if this qualifies as a rock, so I picked up some of them too, but I hope his brother will be able to appreciate the feel of something that he will never be able to see.
Perhaps this is a victory for the good guys. I’ll keep you posted.
On the flip side to my state’s governor is my friend. He shows no sign of being anything other than decent, caring, modest, and accessible. The reason I bring him up is twofold: To disprove the myth peddled by my democrat friends that all those working for the president are evil neo-cons focused on taking over the world and stealing the last nickel from the working poor. And, to make it worse for my dem friends – and you know who you are – is that he tells me there are some other good people working within the inner-circle of the presidency, including those who are considered by many as evil-incarnate. If my friend continues to stand on the pedestal where I have planted him, I’ll take his judgment over others in the Fourth Estate and those with a dubious agenda. My friend was also honest about others he doesn’t feel so charitable about and I suspect it wouldn’t take Kellen long to figure out who he was talking about as you can just follow the trail of bodies. At least he didn’t kill his wife at the convention.
The second reason for bringing this up is to mention the very kind thing my friend does for his brother who has been a paraplegic or quadriplegic for 30 years due to a trampoline accident (yes, Em, it can happen). We were together on the trip to Moscow and he was supposed to keep a tradition going of collecting a piece of the Earth he travels on for the brother who can’t. It turns out my friend is quite forgetful having left his ATM card at a teller machine in Moscow (and failing to cancel it so now some Russian has just bought a car and a year’s supply of vodka), and also left behind his hat and gloves. And he forgot to pick up the dirt. So he wrote me and asked if I would rummage around and liberate a rock or two and send it to him so he could keep his tradition going.
After what happened to Bill, who am to refuse keeping alive a brother-to-brother bond? So I decided I would walk to the Kremlin wall and, once there, figure out how to chisel off a piece without being arrested. I was just about to give the wall a few well-placed kicks when I noticed two chips of the wall resting on the ground. Now I don’t know if this qualifies as a rock, so I picked up some of them too, but I hope his brother will be able to appreciate the feel of something that he will never be able to see.
Perhaps this is a victory for the good guys. I’ll keep you posted.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Report From The Eye of the Storm
From an every-growing staff of reporters around the world, I have a first-hand report of facing down Katrina.
Frequent poster, Alice (aka Mayor) lives in Jackson, MS and was fortunate enough to be just slightly to the west of the Katrina's eye wall and did not get hit with the more dangerous east side wall. Just the same, she was pelted with rain and harassed by 90-mph wind, bending old pine trees to the ground. She was fairly lucky, just a small leak down the wall of her newly-remodled office. Other than that, just lots of debris and wind damage.
She has friends on the Mississippi coast who did not fare as well. From what she understands, nothing is left of Biloxi, a city of 200,000. Bridges have been destroyed, an oil rig broke loose and crashed through a highway and the River Boat casinos have been blown on to dry land requiring either new zoning laws or a tug back out to sea.
She said there had been plenty of tornados around her but none too close. Apparently the real danger for tornados and dangerous thunder storms is follwing the hurricane when the weather heats up to 97 degrees and mixes with colder air from the north.
She's been without electricity for much of the day and is concerned about keeping cool if it takes a while to repair.
As a sidenote, my brother-in-law is an insurance adjuster and has headed down there to help the people who have seen the most damage. It's too early to tell what he will see or what the people of Biloxi et al will see when the sun comes up. Just praying the loss of life will be minimal.
Frequent poster, Alice (aka Mayor) lives in Jackson, MS and was fortunate enough to be just slightly to the west of the Katrina's eye wall and did not get hit with the more dangerous east side wall. Just the same, she was pelted with rain and harassed by 90-mph wind, bending old pine trees to the ground. She was fairly lucky, just a small leak down the wall of her newly-remodled office. Other than that, just lots of debris and wind damage.
She has friends on the Mississippi coast who did not fare as well. From what she understands, nothing is left of Biloxi, a city of 200,000. Bridges have been destroyed, an oil rig broke loose and crashed through a highway and the River Boat casinos have been blown on to dry land requiring either new zoning laws or a tug back out to sea.
She said there had been plenty of tornados around her but none too close. Apparently the real danger for tornados and dangerous thunder storms is follwing the hurricane when the weather heats up to 97 degrees and mixes with colder air from the north.
She's been without electricity for much of the day and is concerned about keeping cool if it takes a while to repair.
As a sidenote, my brother-in-law is an insurance adjuster and has headed down there to help the people who have seen the most damage. It's too early to tell what he will see or what the people of Biloxi et al will see when the sun comes up. Just praying the loss of life will be minimal.
Dateline Cairo: The City of Big Rocks
Any good Blog has a host of reporters around the world. And we're not just any good Blog! I have a field report from Cairo by well-known investigatory journalist Nicholas Whitaker who will be a regular contributor assuming I never ask him for permission. Nicholas is studying a broad there and I think her name is Mary. Forgive any poor grammar since, being a good editor, I have decided not to edit anything. Just raw reporting. Anyway, he's a college student so what can you expect? Following is his first-hand account of an American in Paris... only he's a Persian in Cairo and he has two hands:By Nicholas James Whitaker (Pictured at right -- the blue shirt, not the big rock structure.)
First off allow me to begin this E-mail with what has become the standard greeting for anyone Whitaker. I must apologize profusely for the time that has elapsed since my last E-mail. In the mean time my travel companion Mary and I have been able to procure an apartment, mobile phones, and enough stares to make even a leper jealous. (The point of that joke was that a leper’s parts would be falling off and that would cause the people to stare!! Get it?? California Love to all the lepers out there….no hard feelings???).
I will leave that part until later but the gist of my apology comes from the fact that we have moved away from the vicinity of our beloved Internet Café and at this point will not be able to gain an Internet connection in our apartment until next week at the earliest.The best thing so far this week has been finding a dream of an apartment. If you are my beloved mother please skip this next part. Although we are most likely paying more than most students here, we realize it and did I mention we have a view of the Nile from every room in the apartment. The place is furnished and adorned with items that make it feel cozy and much like what a summer cottage in some really hot country would feel like if I knew what that felt like. We have 2 bedrooms on opposite sides of the apartment and air conditioning units in each room. The kitchen is small but the last time I checked, eating out requires little to no cooking. The bathroom is the second smallest room in the house and although we face the risk of constant flooding from the shower, it is a nice refuge for me from the daily grind of Ulcerative Colitis hell. My bedroom consists of two single beds, a desk, and something the French call an armoire. Due to the tall genes in my family, my legs stick out the bottom and I can only imagine what it would be like if I were actually tall.
I still have not adapted to either the time difference nor my own insomnia so sleeping accommodations are currently of little importance. Although we are encouraged to subject ourselves to as much cultural immersion as humanly possible, Mary and I have applied for what people over here are calling, Satellite television. It is very cheap and will hopefully provide us with a little refuge from the vastness of Cairo with a few horrible American movies and if we are lucky some good old fashioned Arabic Music television.
School will begin on the 5th of September and if classes are anything like the orientations we have been attending, we are all in for the longest and most redundant semester in school history. We have already attended three orientations and still have another four left. The only good news about them is that the last one will be hosted at some Red Sea resort whose name I could butcher but I would rather just retrieve it from my memory by remembering that it sounded like Gonorrhea. (No offense Andrew!!)
So far we have met many students from throughout both the U.S. and Europe. We are meeting up with representatives from Virginia, Massachusetts, D.C., Colorado, and our beloved California later tonight for what will hopefully be some kind of culturally sensitive bonding experience. The other students that we have met seem to be very good students but I have assured them not to be intimidated by my blank, empty stares and reassured them that I always bring down the class curve. I think that makes them feel better and I know this because they stop talking to me.
As I mentioned in my previous E-mails, getting around Cairo in a taxi is quite an amazing if not pants soiling experience. Although some roads are marked with lanes, nobody pays any attention to them and turnabouts are just about the most nerve-racking thing since that forest burning scene from Bambi. At the beginning of this last week Mary and I took a taxi to the airport to pick up the third and final member of our UC Davis posse. I think I had my eyes shut the whole time but I do remember at one point turning and telling Mary that I had some good news and bad news. The good news was that we were making great time and would be at the airport much faster than expected. The bad news was that the cab was beginning to smell like gasoline. Mary used her experience in dealing with crappy cars and assured me by telling me to stick my head out of the window which did absolutely nothing. Speaking of gasoline, an interesting factoid that we have picked up is that a gallon of gasoline here costs about one dollar. I thought that I would throw that in there since most people reading this E-mail reside in a state where they would likely trade their children in for a gallon or two of fuel (Kylie be quiet and just get in the car).
Anyway, the other exciting thing we did yesterday was to visit the Pyramids!! There is too much to describe but my first impression of them was their immense size. My whole life has been consumed by my quest to discover whether size truly does matter. I have been obsessed with this journey but no matter what Lavender might say, it does!! The pyramids are enormous, and not in like a “that is an enormous scoop of ice cream” enormous, I mean cones that are comprised of 2.5 million stones each weighing around 2 tons enormous. I am going to try to send some pictures along with this E-mail but in case you don’t get them please just believe me when I tell you this and stop thinking about what I am doing to one of the rocks in the picture. We could not go inside the pyramids, which was kind of disappointing, but I have been told that they consist of an infinite amount of tunnels and small rooms. I think that they only allow the first 150 people in per day but that could have been just what they tell Americans!! We also saw the Sphinx and it is truly a testament to what I could do with the proper resources and only a million or two slaves!!
Lunch that day consisted of a typical Egyptian meal, full of falafel, goat cheese, vegetables, eggplant, and my new favorite word, Baba Ganoosh!! Go ahead….SAY IT AGAIN!!! The lunch was wonderful but I was reminded how much I love the way animals taste when they are cooked (sorry Rovee).
This city is truly amazing. What it lacks in good smells it more than makes up for in the number of people and pollution. One of our new Egyptian friends has told us that during the day the city of Cairo consists of around 20 million people and is only reduced to around 17 million when the others return to their homes only a few miles outside the city. Your imagination of how huge this must be cannot be overstated and I assure you that I too have no idea as to how anything can move. Even with all of this hustle and bustle, our EAP advisor has told us that most Egyptians have still not returned from vacation and that it will most certainly get twice as bad.
I feel that I have not done this most welcoming city many favors in my ranting and raving. The people here are incredibly friendly and once they realize that we are as lost as we look they are more than happy to help. Overcoming the language barrier is the most difficult task we face on a day to day basis but I promise that once our classes start I will know more than hello, welcome, please, thank you, and help!! Perhaps the most daunting cultural challenge that I have faced thus far is the inability to truly be able to trust people. This is not to say that the Egyptians cannot be trusted but rather that it is always difficult to get to know people enough to really trust them and that moving to a place where you know few if no people at all, is something that can never be overrated. Staying at hotels gives you a chance to come to the realization that people are nice to you primarily because they would like your money. Again this is not to say that Egyptians are any different than most people. What is difficult for them is that they see Americans come in to their country and most of them have money. A typical Egyptian makes between 25-50 Egyptian pounds a day. This translates into anywhere between 5 and 10 US dollars. From what they see on the American shows broadcasted on television and the people that enjoy the fruits of their labors, how could they not believe that we grow money out of our ears? They all want a piece of it and it would take an idiot to think that any human being would not treat us in such a manner. I am saying this not to chastise either Americans or Egyptians but rather to illustrate the importance of being aware of our surroundings. I am by no means a spokesperson for the cause of anyone not born with a silver spoon in their mouth but the journey thus far has given me new perspective on what poor people really live like. I think the two most popular jobs here in Cairo are washing cars and selling packs of tissue on the street. The children who sell them have mastered the art of salesmanship as their persistence is incredible but I suppose desperation can be a great incentive. The whole point of this paragraph was to state, in no such simple words, the importance of having the great friends that I have, and how lost I would be without them.
The people here are also very aware of the political climate and what is at stake in the upcoming election. As I am sure many of you have heard, this year will mark the first “democratic” elections in Egypt practically since Ramses (HAHA!!). As usual in the Middle East democracy is in quotes because although it is a good step, most people understand why the current leader, Hosni Mubarak, has opened up the elections to what has now become 9 other candidates. There is really no doubt as to who will win and that is not the interesting part. What is fascinating is talking to the people here regarding their reasons for voting for Mubarak. While most people say they will vote for him because he is the only one they feel they can truly trust, others have a different reason. Several people have told me that Egyptians are, shall we say, emotional voters. They say that many will vote for Mubarak because they would feel sorry for someone who has led for over 20 years and would worry what he would do if he lost. If he lost he would have to go home and basically not be president and that alone is enough to convince them to vote for him.
It is a fascinating dimension to these people that is often lost in all of the bad media and portrayals they receive in movies and T.V. shows.
One of the questions that I have been asked by many Egyptians here in the streets of Cairo is in regards to Americans and their religion. What is just as interesting as seeing their reactions to my analysis of the United States is their explanation of the role of Islam in the Muslim world and more specifically Egypt. Although many of you know that I have chosen not to embrace any sort of religion in my life, I have a tremendous amount of respect for those who do. Our most trusted friend here in Cairo thus far has been an Egyptian by the name of Zaki who was born here but is a Catholic. We have had many discussions with him regarding the role of both Christianity and Islam. One cannot help but be in awe of how devout so many Muslims seem to be towards their beloved religion. Many Westerners, including myself, are very critical of Islam and especially the debilitating effect it has had on Western/Middle Eastern relations. What is not noticed and what cannot be noticed by those not living here are the positive effects. For example, the amazingly low levels of crime, drunk driving, and material excess that plague many U.S. cities are practically non-existent here. This is in large part to the dedication of Muslims to their Koran and their faith. It is impossible to dismiss the way Islam has been used to direct the masses to enrich the few but the aforementioned issues are some of what makes Cairo so amazing. Just one quick example, last night we were able to walk the streets of Cairo until 2:00 in the morning and not once did we ever feel uncomfortable or unsafe. We took plenty of the dark alleys we were told not to throughout the night and especially to get home more quickly but up to this point we have felt totally safe. I don’t know how many of you have reached this part of the E-mail but for those of you who have, I consider you real troopers.
There is so much to write but I feel as if I have already said too much. I hope that all of you are doing well and enjoying the Sacramento summer. I have read that the weather is cooler there and I am looking forward to returning in the winter to temperatures unthinkable here in Cairo. I love you all and cannot possibly overstate how important you all are to me. Thank you for being you.
Much Love, Nicholas
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Critical Update For Those In San Diego
This just in, there are now two Slades driving automobiles around the greater San Diego area who are dangerous: Hank and Corey.They're on opposite ends of the spectrum; Corey just got his license and doesn't know where he's going and Hank has had his license for 100 years and, well, he doesn't know where he's going either.
Please drive with caution and keep a look out for an early model Volvo Tank and any car with USC license plate rims.
This tip came from a concerned driver and parent who now has something else to worry about.
Monday, August 15, 2005
About My Best Friends & Life Getting In the Way
TODAY Skip sent me this picture of the two of us giving Phil a little lovin’ on his 21st birthday back in 1977. No, we’re not gay, just 21-year-old boys expressing affection by “pretending” to be gay (note: Skip and I are only 20, still months away from tasting our first beer). But the truth is, in a guy-way, we loved each other back then and, the good part is, we still do. I’ve known them both for 35 years and they’re the kind of friends where we can always pick up where we last left off.
We’ve also been there for each other for every important event that has happened in our lives; from graduations, to marriages, to Bar Mitzvahs, to hospital stays, to child birth. We’ve also been there far too often for the death of people close to us. When Bill died they were both by my side, just as they were when my parents passed away 10 years before. Your hand shakes a little more when you’re saying the long good bye, but the two of them always reached out and kept me steady.
Now Skip’s father is struggling from myriad of maladies that have somehow made him seem more, well, normal. Is that possible? Of course we remember the Hanker as the life of the party who, through no fault of my own, always dragged me into his mischief. I don’t know who embarrassed Skip more, his dad, or me. Whether he had a cigarette or a toothpick in his mouth, I will always remember him for his kindness to Skip’s friends. Yes, that’s right Hank, your kindness, not the thumb-grabbing. Because when you get right down to it, there are few men more caring, more sharing, and, well, basically more of a friend than Hank. The jokes and gas have always just been a bonus.
Now he and the lovely Jayne are getting ready to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary which has much to do with love, but I suspect has more to do about patience. And damn it all to hell, I won’t be able to be there for them. But if I was, I would lift a glass of champagne and….well….I would do what Hank would do, I’d drink it down and then grab a little frosting off the cake and pretend nothing happened out of the ordinary. Who's going to notice a little frosting around the lips at a time like this?
My love and admiration go out to Hank and Jayne on such a momentous occasion. Wish I could be there for you.
Just to show the three of us are joined in some weird cosmic way, I also got a voice message from Phil today. It said that his father, Gus, began his day a few days ago with a bloody nose and ended it with cardiac arrest. Now Gus is over 80 but you’d never know it from looking at him. He looks younger than I do. He swims every day and if one can find an ounce of fat on him, I’d be surprised. Phil says he’s OK and I hope he’s right. We can always use someone who can play Girl From Ipanema on the piano until two in the morning.
I guess getting older means these sorts of things will happen. I wish like hell we could just skip this step in life’s lousy lessons.
And don't forget to visit Skip's ummm, unusual website: http://pulltabchain.freewebpage.org. The mug shots look real, Skip (who is actually from Cincinnati. True story).
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