You Are What You Do

One of my Linkster friends got called in for the oddest job interview I've ever heard of. After the usual application stuff -- including a 10-page background check and three separate interviews -- she was placed in a conference room and she would have forty-five minutes to describe on paper the "experience" she has that would best describe the type of person that she is and how this experience would fit for this position

Her answer:

I have tickled a friend of mine just to make her stop crying, I’ve burned myself while playing with candles. I have made bubble gum balls that have gotten my face and my hair all messy, I have talked to the mirror and I have even pretended at one time I was a witch. I’ve won a watermelon eating contest.

I’ve wanted to be an astronaut, the next WNBA superstar, a violinist, a doctor, acrobat and dolphin trainer. I have dreamt of being a mother and only a mother. I’ve played hide and seek behind the curtains and left my feet outside. I’ve pranked a few people over the phone before. I’ve taken a rain shower and got addicted to it. I have sung, kissed, danced and yelled in the rain.

I’ve stolen kisses, I’ve been confused over the feelings I’ve had before. I’ve taken the wrong shortcut and kept going on the wrong road to find my way back. I’ve scraped the bottom of the perfect rice pan that my mom makes and eaten the very last grain in it wanting more. I’ve also cut my own hair before. I’ve cried while listening to music, while riding the bus and the subway.

I’ve tried forgetting some people I have met, and realized that those are the hardest ones to forget and also realized how grateful I am for not being able to forget them. I’ve climbed to a rooftop before to see if I could catch the stars or count them until I’ve fallen asleep. I’ve climbed trees while attempting to steal some fruit and have also fallen on my derriere while doing the same.

I’ve made eternal promises, I’ve written on the wall of my school bathroom, I’ve cried on the floor of my bathroom. I’ve run away from home before stating that I would never come back and have come running home instantly. I’ve run to stop someone from crying, I’ve stood alone in the middle of thousands and missed only one of them. I’ve seen pink and orange sunsets, I’ve thrown myself into a swimming pool thinking I was a fish. I’ve looked at a few cities that I lived from the top of a tall rooftop and still have not felt at home. I’ve built a rocketship. I’ve built a fort. I’ve mailed a letter to God. I’ve made pinky promises and sang and danced until I physically was not able to anymore.

I’ve been scared of the dark, I’ve trembled out of fear, I have almost died out of love, but was born again to see the smile of someone else special. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night before afraid of getting out of the bed. I’ve raced someone in the middle of a hot asphalt with no shoes on and won. I’ve screamed outloud out of pure happiness. I’ve stolen sunflowers out of a garden. I’ve laid on the grass and dew to watch the sunrise. I’ve cried when I’ve seen friends leaving but have also cried when new ones have come into my life. I’ve eaten sugarcane right out a plantation. I’ve been dropped in the ocean to swim my way back and been stung by a jellyfish while attempting to "bring it home" as my new pet.

I’ve jumped out of a building with only a cord holding my lifeline. I’ve ridden rollercoasters where I have felt my heart jump right out of my throat and be pushed back when the wind knocked it out of me in the first place.

I have banged pots and pans and made music. I’ve gone to a movie theather in my pajamas.

I’ve played sports with broken bones while whining and crying out of pain and realized that I wanted to be right where I was doing what I was doing regardless of the pain.

I’ve sat in conversations where people from different places in the world were seated with me and I was the only person able to communicate for all and the only one able to understand them all.

I’ve been able to conceive and bear a child that is wiser, better and more in tune with life than I could have ever imagined.

I have stood up for what is right even when everybody else was telling me I was wrong.

I’ve lost myself and found myself the same day.

I’ve found out I have an eternal purpose.

I have cried over music, over stories and over strangers.

I’ve mourned the death of a loved one and welcomed the life of another.

I’ve been in the middle of a mountain completely alone and realized I was and never will be alone.


There have been so many things done and undone, so many emotional and mental photographs that I have taken, kept in one big chest... my heart. The chest in this case holds some of the experiences that you have asked me to share to further explain who I am.

But now I am sitting here in this room and have been asked by this interview form to write down in forty five minutes the "experience" I have that would best describe the type of person that I am and how this experience would fit for this position, well... it is echoing in my mind right now... experiences, experiences . . . will "farmer and cropper of smiles" be good experience? Will "mother of an amazing four-year-old" suffice as enough experience? I could sit here and write out in depth what is already written in my resume... but that does not constitute the "experiences" in my life that have made me who I am today. I guess one will never have enough experience... life renews for us everyday and changes constantly.

BTW, she got the call-back interview. How stoopid would they have to be to not hire her?

.

Fitness Update -- June 2007

01 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 50
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: moderate
This morning's weight: 175 (Yesterday must've been a fluke.)

02 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 50
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: low
This morning's weight: 175

03 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 50
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: low
This morning's weight: 175

04 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out: None (Sunday)
Activity level: low
This morning's weight: 175

05 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 50
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: low
This morning's weight: 175

06 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 50
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: moderate
This morning's weight: 175

07 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 50
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: low
This morning's weight: 174! (Let's see if I can stay here.)

08 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 50
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: low
This morning's weight: 174

09 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 50
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: low
This morning's weight: 174

10 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 50
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: low
This morning's weight: 174

11 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out: None (Sunday)
Activity level: low
This morning's weight: 174

12 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 60
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: low
This morning's weight: 174

13 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 60
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: moderate
This morning's weight: 173!!

14 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: 5 miles
Leg weights: yes
Push-ups: 150
Sit-ups: 150
Curls: 10
Leg Lifts: 60
The usual isometrics
(1,2,3,4,6,8,9,12,13,14,15,16,18,19)
Activity level: moderate
This morning's weight: 173

15 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out:
Distance walked: >5 miles
Leg weights: no
Activity level: high
This morning's weight: 173
Started my new job yesterday. No time or energy to be working out, so I have to put the work-outs on hold for a while (at least a week, until I get acclimated).

16 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out: none
Distance walked: >8 miles
Leg weights: no
Activity level: high
This morning's weight: 173

17 June 2007
Yesterday's work-out: none
Distance walked: unknown
Leg weights: no
Activity level: moderate
This morning's weight: 173

21 June 2007
Haven't been working out this week, because of work. I'm on my feet and walking around all day long, but at least I'm keeping the weight off. I forgot to weight myself this morning, but I think I'm still down around 173 or 174. Once I really get accustomed to this job, I might start walking the 2 miles to and from work.

.

Happy Fathers Day, Dad

(Is it still politically correct to celebrate Fathers Day???)

One of the great tragedies of my life was my Dad's passing just before Christmas when I was only 15 years old. Someone once said that there are things in life you never really get over, you just get used to them. I'd say that's true.

Many years ago, I saw a t-shirt that said "Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Dad". Amen to that.

It was a simpler time. No cable TV, no Internet, he never even owned a color TV. Never had air conditioning, either. Didn't have a lot of money. But we did some mighty cool things. My Dad turned 46 shortly after I was born, which probably made fatherhood a tad stressful for him. But he handled it with aplomb.

My Dad was born in a little fly-speck town (Brunndöbra) that I've only found on two maps. Sometime around 1920, the family moved to Falkenstein, and my cousin and her family still live "right next door" in Auerbach. I've been there a couple of times and had a good look. It's a great place. Because of the aftermath of WWII, he emigrated to the US in 1927, touring all over and eventually settling for a while in New Hampshire, then in New Bern, NC. Sometime after that, he made the final move to Baltimore, which is where he met my mother.

Back in Falkenstein, he had worked for one of the many factories that made embroidery, something the area is famous for. He worked in the foreign correspondence division, corresponding in English, Spanish, French, and (I believe) Italian. The Vogtland is also famous for musical instruments, so it's no surprise that he was an accomplished musician (he taught in New Bern) and quite a good singer. I can still hear him singing "Tief d'rin im Böhmerwald". He even had a recording of "Der frohe Wanderer" (The Happy Wanderer) that he used to sing along to. I think it's one of life's better ironies that he liked that song so much, and yet I'm the one who's "wandered" more than he has.

When I was only six, my parents got divorced, and it was rather acrimonious. The one great mistake that my mother made was in trying to turn me against my Dad. It backfired big-time. It might have been largely as a result of that that I began to understand my Dad a lot better. He never really bad-mouthed her, he simply said that there were things my sister and I didn't know but that we would one day. I no longer worry about it.

After they got divorced and my Dad moved out, we only got to see him on Sundays. To this day, Sunday is my favorite day of the week. It didn't matter that he didn't have much by way of material possessions, we had a blast anyway. In the warmer weather, we'd often go over to Herring Run Park or out to Lake Roland or Loch Raven Dam. I still remember the trip to Gettysburg and what an eerie feel the place had. We also went to Fort McHenry, where Francis Scott Key wrote what became our national anthem. There was also a trip to the airport to watch the planes take off and land. I can't help but wonder if anyone does the simple things anymore. In the cold weather, we couldn't go much of anywhere, but we had fun inside his little apartment.

Our Sunday routine was pretty set. While we still lived on Keswick Road, we went to church at 8, got back home around 9 and then went around to Dad's apartment. After we moved across town, he'd come pick us up. We'd go and do stuff, sometimes stopping by a little deli out on Harford Road where they sold all kinds of great German food. (The only thing I couldn't stand was their *&^#&% potato salad, but I already wrote about that elsewhere). Sometimes, he'd buy a bottle or two of that dark Löwenbräu beer and give us a taste. That's the only beer I've ever been able to stomach.

Our conversations often revolved around what we were learning in school. Since he had taught music, Dad began teaching me. I at least learned the notes could read music before I was in high school. What was really sad was that I couldn't afford to join the band in my freshman year, but joined during my sophomore year. I think he might have made it to one performance before he died that December.

It's really a pity that he never really had a chance to teach me his language. Just a few words and phrases. The rest had to wait until I actually went over there in late '72. Those were eight very intense weeks learning the basics of the language before going. Oddly enough, my mother somehow conned me into taking three years of French in high school and I don't understand a word of it anymore.

But the most important things my Dad taught me were life lessons. He taught more by example than by precept. Even then, he could point to an example. I remember one afternoon that I was looking at a little ashtray he had made out of a tuna fish can (he was good at things like that). I noticed some black stuff where he would rest his cigarette and asked him what it was. "Tar", he said. "Yuck!", I said. Tar is what they put on roofs. He admonished me not to smoke. I'll never forget his comment: "I wish I had never started, and now I can't stop." It's what eventually killed him. Not surprisingly, I'm not just a non-smoker, I'm an anti-smoker.

I remember one afternoon when we were driving back from somewhere and passed some guys who were walking up the street near my home. They were dressed in keeping with a fad at the time -- "high water" pants, no socks, and shirts not tucked in. My Dad took one look at them and said "If you ever dress like that, you're not my son anymore." Needless to say, I've never dressed like that.

There were times when Dad would tell us about growing up in Falkenstein and some of the things he and his brothers would do. His older brother, Willi, died at 16. He never said much about the other brother, Werner (who I found out was killed in Poland, fighting the Russkies). And didn't talk much about his sister, Else. But he did mention his brother Hellmuth from time to time. It was Hellmuth I located living not far from me when I was living in Ingolstadt. I had been over there almost a year and we were able to get together from time to time. Christmas of 1973 kind of made up for Christmas of 1967. As he drove me to the airport, Onkel Hellmuth said that he had the feeling that if we didn't see each other again soon, we never would. He passed away in 1986, before I could get back over there. It's his daughter Christine who still lives in Auerbach.

Quite some years ago, Ann Landers ran a piece about "I had a mother who read to me". I can't really remember it, but it's something about how the author was lucky because his/her mother took the time to read to him/her. I'm even luckier. I had a Dad who talked with me. We never did settle the debate over which was more accurate, decimals or fractions. I guess we'll have to take that up when I get to The Other Side. There were a lot of other philosophical and not-so-philosophical discussions we had.

My Dad taught me honesty and honor. I never heard him tell an untruth, and I never lied to him. The thought would never cross my mind. He also taught me respect, mostly by the way he treated other people. And other people treated him with respect, which is not surprising. I think he'd be appalled at today's lack of manners. He could be acerbic and sarcastic when the situation called for it, but he did it with aplomb.

Unlike a lot of men at the time, my Dad could cook. Man, could he cook! I tried making one of his specialities a couple of years ago (stuffed cabbage). Failed miserably. But I also made fried chicken according to his recipe; that turned out a lot better than the cabbage. I can also make lentils the way he did. I blogged sometime ago about Diogenes and the lentils, and I'm glad my Dad taught me to enjoy lentils -- literally and figuratively.

If he were alive today, my Dad would be 101 years old. I don't know how much longer I have on this Earth, but I already look forward to seeing him again. For today, all I can do is miss him and hope he isn't too disappointed in the way my own life has turned out. Maybe I'll make some potato salad.

RIP, Mr. Wizard

Sad news today. Before there was Bill Nye, there was Mr. Wizard. I have some fond memories of watching that guy with my Dad. Too bad there aren't any shows like that on anymore.

And Who's Your Back-Up?

Some years ago, when I was working for Fourth Air Force when they were still at McClellan AFB, an e-mail came in from one of the Regular Air Force units inquiring as to our mission statement and who our back-up was.

The individual who got the e-mail replied back with our canned mission statement and the comment: "We're the Reserve. We are the back-up."

Nicely done.

I Quit

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8-year-old again.

I want to go to Burger King and think that it's a four-star restaurant.

I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make a sidewalk with rocks.

I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them.

I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer's day.

I want to return to a time when life was simple. When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.

I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good.

I want to believe that anything is possible. I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again.

I want to live simple again. I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones.

I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.

So... here's my checkbook and my car-keys, my credit card bills and my 401(k) statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood.

And if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, 'cause....... "Tag! You're it."

Killing Two Flies With One Swat

(Hat tip to PhoenixPrinsis for this one.)

My mailbox is being flooded with mail concerning gas prices and illegal aliens. To boycott oil companies or not, to provide amnesty to illegal aliens or not, etc.

Since I have become jaded to the various solutions proposed by the Republicans, Democrats, Sierra Club, ACLU, etc., I have elected to solve the problems as they affect me. My response solves both my gas and illegal alien problems: I'm going to hire illegal aliens to push my car.

They're plentiful and cheaper than buying gas. Then I pay them in pesos so they have to go home to spend it.

Don't you love it when a plan comes together?