Be careful what you ask for....

I have to ask you, dear reader, that if you have any knowledge of the situation I am about to write about, please keep it to yourself. You'll see why.

N and I, along with others, are involved with the teenage youth at our church. You get to know them and things about their lives pretty quickly. One of the hardest things is knowing when to offer an opinion or advice that you know is treading waaaay too close to parent territory. However sometimes you also know that they are either not getting what they need at home or feel the need to talk to someone that isn't as personally vested in the subject. Most of the time I bite my tongue and pray for the best. The more I thought about this, the more I thought that this isn't always the right thing to do. Even though my intention is to let their parents do what's right, whether I agree or not, I may not be doing what is ultimately good for those kids. And you have to know that I couldn't love all of them more if they were my own.
Fast forward to last week. I was in a meeting at the church. At the beginning we did a rather extended devotional that centered around God granting us strength and courage. One of the reflection questions was how we would use this strength and courage. My immediate thought was to not be afraid to be involved with these kids, their problems, and give of myself whatever they needed. I resolved to be involved when I strongly felt it was necessary. So far pretty easy, I mean, what could come up?
Last night out of the blue one the kids asked to speak to me in private. She has never known her father, and has always been told that nobody knows where he is or what he is doing. All this I knew, and we have discussed before. But in a casual conversation with another close family member, it slipped out to her where her father lives. It took her all of about one second to realize that her family had been not so honest with her all these years, since in fact they did know where he was and what he was doing. For good or ill, she wants to find him and meet him. And she wants me to help. My first dilemma is how her not-so-balanced mother will react. It won't be good, that I know. But as I sat with this crying, hurt child, I realized that this was a burden I could, and would, gladly accept. After all I was married before, I can handle a freaked out psycho woman. My next, and still nagging dilemma, is the fallout from all this. As N pointed out, most likely the outcome will not be a movie of the week sort. If her father rejects her, we will all surround her with love and help her deal with it. My fear is that this man is not a nice man, and could cause more pain in her life. What the Hell do I do then? Once again, press forward, pray for the best, and prepare for the worst.
So now, I have a piece of paper with a man's name on it. It is written in a child's handwriting. I can't imagine the emotions that went through her head and heart as she wrote his name on this scrap of paper. What hopes, fears, and concerns she had. And, oh-my-God, she has trusted me to help her and guide her through this. I have to be up for this, it's not my choice. I told God I would, and he took me up on it.

iPod Madness

I'm not much on fads, but I have to say I love my iPod. It was a long road to actually get me to own one. N wanted one and her Dad got it for her for Christmas a couple of years ago. I thought it was a pretty cool little unit, but I had no personal use for one myself. The next Christmas N got me a Shuffle. The shuffle is a small thing that looks like a pack of Wrigley's gum and holds about 100 songs. I didn't use it much at first, but over the past year have used it more and more, but I still had no use for the big kid's iPod.
Then two things happened that changed my mind. Now, I drive about 45 miles each way for work. In the mornings I would listen to Howard Stern, and a local talk radio guy in the afternoon. While not a huge fan of either, they were pretty good when graded on the local radio curve. Rush hour radio in Dallas-Fort Worth sucks. Equal parts talk, music, and commercials. And none done well. But at the end of last month, Stern moved to Sirius satellite radio. I toyed with getting one, but again, I don't like Stern that much. So I tried his replacement (David Lee Roth) and it was predictably awful, so I was looking for some kind of entertainment to keep me sane. Now, when we travel we take N's iPod and hook it into an FM transmitter. That way we can listen to her iPod over the truck's radio. The only issue is that it's very weak and is overpowered in any large metro area. There is, I found, a cure for this. I have to say at this point that if you are with the FCC, any and all modifications were made for experimental and hobby purposes. Basically these transmitters are little radio units that put out a signal to about 3 feet. Ten minutes with a soldering gun extends that to about thirty feet. This solved the issue of not being able to use this little gem in town. And I get to share what I'm hearing with every car within that thirty feet. I'm sure they appreciate that.
So, I went out and got a used iPod, which still has more features and capacity than I will use. I paid about half of what a new one costs and the thing is like new. I spent a week dumping everything in the house that I might listen to into the iPod. I have also had a pleasant surprise, Podcasts. I'm most likely the last person on the planet to discover these, but so be it. I won't even go into the variety available, but in case I'm the next to the last person, and you are actually the last person, here's an idea. I can, for free, download other radio shows, or shows that showcase a certain kind of music, books, comedy, political analysts, etc etc. You get the idea. Either way, I can customize in multiple ways what I hear through the stereo depending on what I feel like right at that moment.
All in all I am very happy with the iPod. It does more than I thought, and the more I use it the more I like it. And if I can ever teach my silhouette to dance, I think that gets me up to speed on the whole iPod culture.

Peyton Manning: Crybaby

Let me say right off the bat that I like Peyton Manning. The funniest commercials on television are Peyton acting like a crazed fan for everyday people. The best is when he is cheering on the waitress in a diner and chanting "D-Caf, D-Caf". They crack me up every time. Peyton went to the other UT, in Knoxville, Tennessee. I had a guy that worked for me at the airport there, and right before the draft, Peyton was flying in and out of the little hanger we were using. My understanding is that he was always a down to earth, humble guy. Everyone there said when he had to wait, he would spend time doing your regular guy chit chat with anyone that happened to be standing near. I suppose that's why I was so disappointed at his post game mini-meltdown. He basically threw his offensive line under the bus. I am not a Colts fan. They don't appear to be a very physical team, and that's a big part of football. They execute about as perfect as you could ever want, but beat up on them a little bit and you win the game. If Peyton has a dirty jersey, he lost. I thought he was going to cry at that news conference. He was rattled for most of the game because the Steelers went after him, hard. Maybe he's just used to not having to deal with being knocked around, I don't know. But if he is ever going to win big post season games, he's going to have to do what every other NFL quarterback does, get up, shake it off, and run the next play. His O-line might have had a mediocre day (it certainly wasn't bad), but he's the one that fell apart that day. And his team, the ones that look to him for calm and leadership when facing adversity, saw him fall apart mentally. And that may have been what sealed the deal. It's time for Peyton Manning to grow up and play like a big boy. Or as N likes to say, "Shut up, put on your big girl panties, and deal."

If you voted Democrat, proceed directly to www.lifetimetv.com

I wouldn't consider myself a gun nut, but I do like them. I have several, but my favorite by and far is my shotgun. It's a 1964 Remington 870 Wingmaster 12 gauge. To those of you that have no idea, the 870 is the classic hunting shotgun. More of them have been sold, more are used by police and military, and more are seen in the field than any other shotgun in the world. In all time classics, they sit with the Chevy 350, the DC-3, and the Ford F-150 as the perennial standards of their breed. They are just a quality piece of work. Don't get me wrong, you can spend the bosco bucks and get a better gun. Most are too pretty and you probably wouldn't take them hunting. But for something that won't ever let you down and will get the job done, this is a good choice. I was lucky to get this gun over 20 years ago in very good shape and had no idea what I was buying. All I wanted was a 12 gauge bird gun. I knew the 870 was a good gun, I just didn't know how good. The Wingmaster is the premium version. It has a solid walnut checkered stock, and a chrome bolt and lifter. But lately it was showing it's age, and I didn't really want to use any newer, non Remington parts. So for the last several months, I have been searching for vintage replacement parts. While the actual design and construction haven't changed much in the last 50 years, much of the detail of the parts that make this a classic Wingmaster haven't been made since the 1970's. I finally got the final piece last week, an original chrome shell lifter. It was the first part I looked for and the last that I found. Tonight I tore the gun completely apart and put it back together. While it has some "character" from over 40 years of field use, the gun really looks great. I wish I knew how many thousands of rounds have gone through this gun, how many birds have really been taken. I've had the pleasure of shooting some nice guns over the years, but nothing feels sweeter than this old pump. The only non original piece is the actually much older, a factory Remington PolyChoke equipped barrel. It's very rare, so when I stumbled across it and I couldn't pass up the chance to get it. I still have the original single bead, straight Modified choke barrel, and it looks good. I've dropped many a bird with that barrel, so no complaints there. The PolyChoke gives me the flexibility I want while retaining the old time look, feel, and quality. I haven't hunted in a few years, and the gun mostly sits in the closet, but there is just something about the feel of shouldering something that has endured for so long while still retaining it's beauty and faithfulness to it's design. We don't get much of that anymore, so maybe that explains why I am so attached to this gun.