Tag Archives: molly

March 19, 2013 · 23:32

A Memorial Service as Tragedy Strikes Camp Lejeune on the 10th Anniversary of the Beginning of the Iraq War

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“God didn’t put us here for that pat on the back. He created us so he could be here himself. So he could exist in the lives of those he created, in his image.” Chaplain (Captain) Fr Francis Mulcahy M*A*S*H 

The past week has been difficult at Camp LeJeune. We lost a sailor, a hospital corpsman who died by his own hand last Monday. He was a veteran of Afghanistan and his death came as a surprise to his friends, family and shipmates. Today we conducted his memorial service. It was a full house. His family travelled to be here and his friends, those that served with him while he was assigned to the Marines as well as his current shipmates were there in abundance.

It was a time to grieve. The young man was beloved by his friends, respected and cared for. However something that none of us will ever know or understand overwhelmed him. It may have been the trauma of war, maybe something else, but he maintained a facade that kept his friends, family and shipmates away from whatever despair drove him to take his life.

It was a time for all of us to grieve. It was as William Shakespeare wrote in McBeth a time to “Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o’er wrought heart and bids it break.”

But even as we grieved the news filtered to the base that 7 Marines assigned to the Second Marine Division were killed, and a number of others injured when a mishap occurred where they were training in Nevada. Evidently either a mortar round either exploded in the tube or as it was being handled during a live fire exercise. They join the thousands of men and women who have died or been wounded in preparation for, the conduct of or the aftermath of their service in Iraq or Afghanistan. The death of each one leaves a void in the heart of a loved one, friend or shipmate.

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Staff Sergeant Ergin Osman KIA Afghanistan

I have lost friends and shipmates in all phases of both wars and their aftermath. Some have died in combat, others while supporting combat operations of natural causes or accidents, some have committed suicide, including a Priest and Chaplain who served in both Vietnam and Iraq. Still countless others endure injuries or illnesses that will eventually kill them.

Likewise there are far too many more who have sustained terrible injuries to their minds, bodies and spirits that time will never heal. The young men and women that I see every day, those with the physical wounds of war and those with the unseen but sometimes even more disabling injuries such as PTSD, Traumatic Brain Injury or Moral Injury remain in the fight, sometimes with the sole mission of recover or remaining alive.

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Ten years after the war in Iraq began and twelve and a half years after 9-11 and the invasion of Afghanistan the costs continue to build in lives and treasure. In Iraq almost 4500 American and over 300 other coalition casualties, more than 500 contractors and nearly 10,000 Iraqi Soldiers and Police and countless thousands of Iraqi civilians have died. US wounded alone number almost 35,000 in Iraq. In Afghanistan there are over 2100 US dead and about 1100 NATO and Coalition dead, hundreds of contractors, and thousands of Afghans with over 17,000 more American military wounded. Every day nearly 20 veterans take their lives while thousands of others struggle with physical, psychological and spiritual wounds of war, wounds that don’t heal even as they find that they no longer fit in the country that went shopping when they went to war. The costs of both wars now are building into trillions of dollars, costs that will continue to grow even after the wars wind down.

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Two time Congressional Medal of Honor Winner Major General Smedley Butler, US Marine Corps wrote:

“What is the cost of war? what is the bill? Major General Smedley Butler wrote: “This bill renders a horrible accounting. Newly placed gravestones. Mangled bodies. Shattered minds. Broken hearts and homes. Economic instability. Depression and all of its attendant miseries. Back -breaking taxation for generations and generations. For a great many years as a soldier I had a suspicion that war was a racket; not only until I retired to civilian life did I fully realize it….” (See War is a Racket: Remembering Major General Smedley Butler USMC and Why He Matters ) 

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Likewise Lieutenant General (US Army Retired) Hal Moore, who is immortalized in the film We Were Soldiers and book We Were Soldiers Once…and Young told West Point Cadets in 2005:

“The war in Iraq, I said, is not worth the life of even one American soldier. As for Secretary Rumsfeld, I told them, I never thought I would live long enough to see someone chosen to preside over the Pentagon who made Vietnam-era Defense Secretary Robert McNamara look good by comparison. The cadets sat in stunned silence; their professors were astonished. Some of these cadets would be leading young soldiers in combat in a matter of a few months. They deserved a straight answer.

The expensive lessons learned in Vietnam have been forgotten and a new generation of young American soldiers and Marines are paying the price today, following the orders of civilian political leaders as they are sworn to do. The soldiers and those who lead them will never fail to do their duty. They never have in our history. This is their burden. But there is another duty, another burden, that rests squarely on the shoulders of the American people. They should, by their vote, always choose a commander in chief who is wise, well read in history, thoughtful, and slow-exceedingly slow-to draw the sword and send young men and women out to fight and die for their country. We should not choose for so powerful an office someone who merely looks good on a television screen, speaks and thinks in sixty-second sound bites, and is adept at raising money for a campaign.

If we can’t get that part right then there will never be an end to the insanity that is war and the unending suffering that follows in war’s wake-and we must get it right if we are to survive and prosper as free Americans in this land a million Americans gave their lives to protect and defend.”

Needless to say, Moore, a West Point graduate has not been asked back.

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Thousands of young Americans, as well as NATO or other Allied nation soldiers, including Iraqi soldiers that I knew and Afghans that I have not worked with have died or been mangled by these wars. Yet too many Americans, Europeans and others that have sent young men and women to these wars have no stake in the game.  Most people continue with the mundane aspects of peacetime life while their political, religious and business leaders plot even more war. Syria, Mali, North Korea, Iran…where will it end?

Today we mourned a shipmate and friend at Camp LeJeune even as we wait to see who else that we know have been killed or injured in this latest training accident. I was honored to be a part of the memorial and happy to be of help to the families and friends of my sailor. At the same time I too grieve and wonder just how many more will have to die before the madness ends.

I left the base after the ceremony, and saw the massed trucks of the local and national news networks parked outside the gate like vultures. When I got home I hugged my dog Molly, I love that little dog, she has helped save my life after my time in Iraq. I then went for a four mile run on the beach and then had a couple of beers with my dinner while at the bar with my friends at my local watering hole.

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The old regulars there have nicknamed me “Father Mulcahy” a name that some people at the hospital have also given me. Maybe it is that I ear round steel rimmed glasses. Maybe it is because I will join in the occasional poker game , football, basketball or NASCAR pool, which by the way I won the NASCAR pool this week. Or maybe it is just because they didn’t know I was a Chaplain or Priest until a mutual friend and co-worker told one of them. Until then I was just Steve, the guy that wore the Orioles and Giants baseball gear. Now I have become their Priest and Chaplain, funny how that works. Regardless, it is a nickname that I cherish, because when I was growing up Fr Mulcahy symbolized so much of what I thought was good in a Priest and Chaplain. The writers of M*A*S*H made him very human. But I digress…

As we mourned today I was reminded of something that Helen Keller said, something that I think no matter what any of us grieve is true. “We bereaved are not alone. We belong to the largest company in all the world–the company of those who have known suffering.”

Pray for me a sinner.

Peace

Padre Steve+

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March 17, 2013 · 21:58

St Patrick’s Sunday Night Musing: So Many Topics So Little Time

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Well, here we are the end of St Patrick’s Day and I have to say that I have basically took the weekend off. I slept more than I was awake and did as little as possible. I read a book, a baseball novel called Chin Music by Lee Edelstein which I will review tomorrow Monday night for TLC Book Tours. I also spent a good amount of time with my dog Molly, giving her walks and enjoying her joyfulness.

I did go over to the Emerald Isle St Patrick’s Festival, braving the crowds, which some say might have been 20,000 or more to take my place at Rucker John’s. What amazed me was the manner of how many people celebrate St Patrick’s Day. I am not a tea-totaler by any means and do enjoy my time at the bar with friends. By I go for the fellowship, the friendship and the relationships. I enjoy good beer, wine or the occasional whiskey, brandy or Jaegermeister, but cannot understand why people would come out with the sole purpose of getting drunk and acting like fools. There were very few of us that were regulars there last night as the festivities commenced and I was embarrassed to watch Marines from our local bases act completely foolish, being vulgar, rude and causing the management of have to cut them off.

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Last week was difficult, very busy and dealing with the effects of yet another suicide of a young sailor. I will be working in the early part of the week to conduct the memorial service for the young man, a veteran of Afghanistan whose demons were evidently more than he could bear, and to care for his shipmates. That suicide angered me. Not that I am angry with that young man and his choice to kill himself, but it angered me that so many young men and women, active duty, reserve, national guard as well as retirees and veterans who have left the service die every day.

The fact is that I don’t think that we as individuals, the military, the veterans administration or society are doing enough. I am tired of it and have resolved to do whatever I can to do what I can do to as an individual, a Chaplain and military officer to stem this tide. I may be pissing into the wind, but having been to the brink and stared into the abyss of hopelessness after I returned from Iraq I cannot just stand by and lament the situation anymore.

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I have also been thinking about Iraq and all of the lives lost or destroyed, American, Iraqi and others, the treasure spent and the promises broken. As a veteran of that war I hope and pray that all the lives lost and treasure wasted will not be a complete waste. I pray that some good will still come from our misbegotten invasion of Iraq. Iraq remains a part of my thoughts and my dreams, and rarely a night goes by that my mid does not go back to Iraq, the men that I served with and the Iraqis that I got to know.

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In the midst of Iraq I was reminded that yesterday was the anniversary of the My Lai Massacre and my distant connection to it. Of course that massacre was one of the most disgraceful episodes in the history of the US Army. I remember when the news broke about it and then remember what my first class advisor in Army ROTC at UCLA had to say about it. He was there after the massacre, his unit providing protection for those investigating it. His words about it and how bad it was remained with me.

In 1997 I was serving as the Chaplain at Fort Indiantown Gap Pennsylvania when I was requested to conduct the funeral for Colonel Oran Henderson, the man who commanded the brigade to which the men that conducted the massacre belonged. Henderson was tried and acquitted of a cover up at the longest running court-martial in US history. However, his career, which before My Lai appeared that he was destined to be a general. That destiny died at My Lai.

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The tragic thing is, a that Henderson, who was a hero in many ways, a man who in World War II, Korea and Vietnam was wounded and conducted himself honor, failed in this crisis. At the time a thorough  investigation conducted by him that sought justice rather than a whitewash may have helped the county and changed his legacy. When I think of him I know that what we do matters, especially as military officers. Ethics is and has to be a central part of our life and faith. When we forget that, when we allow the utilitarian necessities of careerism and defend the institution even when it is wrong we like Henderson fail. That may be one of the lessons that we did not learn in Vietnam, Iraq or Afghanistan which will continue to haunt us. I’ll probably write something about My Lai and its relation to current conflicts and the necessity of military professionals to always seek the higher level of ethics in how they approach war.

Like I said, there is so much to write about and to discuss. I want to write some on the upcoming NCAA Basketball Tournament, a bit about baseball as well as some of the things happening in regard to North Korea, Iran, Syria and Afghanistan and the first days of the new Papacy of Pope Francis, which may turn out to be as surprising papacy as we have seen in decades, at least since Pope John XXIII.

Well, that is enough for tonight. Tomorrow I will post the review of Chin Music and we’ll see what the rest of the week portends.

Peace and blessings

Padre Steve+

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February 7, 2013 · 23:59

A Long Strange Trip Home from Iraq: A Five Year Trek to Healing

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“Sometimes the lights all shinin’ on me;
Other times I can barely see.
Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip its been.” 

The Grateful Dead “Truckin’” 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pafY6sZt0FE

Just over 5 years ago I returned from Iraq a changed man. But the change was not complete, it was the fact that the man that I was before Iraq was shattered. I returned vainly hoping to return to what used to be “normal.” But that was not possible. I returned to a place where I felt that I felt abandoned at at times betrayed. I thought that I would be able to get through what I was feeling by working harder, praying more and pushing myself beyond my limits. Within months of my return I was in a state of emotional, spiritual and physical collapse.

Insomnia, nightmares, hyper-vigilance, acute sensory sensitivity to sight, smell and sounds that reminded me of Iraq, rage, depression, emotional distance from those that I loved. I drank more than I should have and self medicated because of chronic pain. Driving became an adventure, my hyper-vigilance made me drive like a Jedi Knight, the “force” was with me. Slow traffic, objects that resembled items that might hide IEDs alongside the road and aggressive or threatening drivers caused outright panic and anxiety.  This led to some unsafe driving practices on my part and thankfully a lawyer got my speeding tickets on US 17 in North Carolina reduced to mechanical violations.

I had deep anger at the politicians and leaders that took us to war and the media that lied about it. I had a spiritual crisis that left me for all intents and purposes an agnostic praying that God still existed. There were few clergy that I even trusted at all because most didn’t seem to either care or understand what I was going through. The only thing that kept me going was a hope that things might get better and only my sense of call as a Priest and Chaplain allowed me to continue in spite of my crisis. During that early period of 2009 I began this site and the article God in the Empty Places…Padre Steve Remembers the Beginnings of Padre Steve’s World helps recount those early days.

At first when things began I could not label what I was going through. But by the middle of June I was falling apart and during a seminar that I was coordinating involving the author of On Killing and On Combat, Lieutenant Colonel Dave Grossman I was in such bad shape that the Medical Officer of EOD Group Two asked me “Are you okay Chaplain?” I told him “no” and after he was sure that I was not a danger to myself he set up an appointment for the next morning. Following his evaluation and subsequent evaluations at Naval Medical Center Portsmouth Virginia I was diagnosed with chronic and severe PTSD, anxiety and depression.

The road back has been long and often difficult. I mentioned that I was going through a spiritual crisis that left me for all intents and purposes an agnostic. It took nearly two years but in the act of conducting what are often called the “Last Rites” for a retired Navy doctor faith returned. It was what I call my “Christmas Miracle” though it actually occurred during Advent (see:  Padre Steve’s Christmas Miracle )

After that things still were difficult. Faith had returned but it was different, less doctrinaire and more accepting of others different than me. I still struggled with depression, anxiety and insomnia. I struggled in my marriage and it seemed that the only place that I could find peace was at a baseball park. The management of the local AAA International League team, the Norfolk Tides allowed me to come and visit the stadium and walk the concourses and be at the field during the off season as well.

In June 2010 I found out that I had been selected for promotion to Commander, the next day my father died and a week later I found that I was being transferred to my current assignment. Just before my transfer I was told by a former Archbishop of my old church that I was “too liberal” and needed to find a new church home. I did with some help and it has been for the better, I still have many friends in that church including other leaders in it and the former Archbishop himself was removed for attempting to remove the military chaplains from that church to another. Change continued as did my struggles but some things were getting better. In spite of my own struggles I was determined to make sure that others like me were cared for and the new assignment at Camp LeJeune gave me plenty of opportunity.

I wrote an article on this site entitled Raw Edges: Are there other Chaplains out there Like Me? That article led to me being contacted by a reporter from our local newspaper, the Jacksonville Daily News they published an article about my struggle and recover in April 2011. Shortly thereafter I was contacted by the DOD Real Warriors Campaign who did a feature on me. That site did a feature on me http://www.realwarriors.net/multimedia/profiles/dundas.php that helped others connect to me and be able in some cases to tell their stories, or those of family members sometimes for the first time.

I was getting better but still struggling, especially with sleep and nightmares. Due to her medical issues my wife remained in Virginia when I went to LeJeune. Last December my dog Molly decided that she was going to stay with me and that was a big help. Her cheerful unflappable personality helped me begin to engage life again. Instead of going home to an empty apartment I was greeted by a dog that welcomed me cheerfully and made me get out of my shell. We ended up a couple of months later getting a new puppy for Judy, a puppy who has added a new dimension to all of our lives.

Finally last year I began some more therapy that was extremely helpful and about a month ago I stopped doing sleeping pills that did not help me sleep and left me feeling almost hung-over every morning, making it hard to function and even to get out of bed. Over the course of nearly 5 years I had been on a number of different medications and all had the same effect, even those designed to not leave the patient that way. My therapist suggested trying Melatonin on duty nights when I needed to be able to drive to work if there was an emergency at the hospital. I noticed a difference. My sleep was no worse and when I got up in the morning I actually felt somewhat rested.

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For the first time since I returned from Iraq I feel that I am functioning like a normal human being. Hope has returned and people that know me can tell the difference. Judy says that I am the man that she fell in love with again. In ministry I have found that what I went through assists me in caring for those going through great difficulties, any do to PTSD, TBI or Combat Stress, but others that are struggling with their place in life in the military institution, particularly caregivers including chaplains and medical personnel. At work I have more energy and connection to people than in years and I have developed more relationships with people on the island as well.

Do I still have days that I struggle? Yes. Is my sleep perfect? No. Do I still have nightmares and strange dreams? Yes. All that being said I know that for the first time in years I approach the Lenten Season feeling good, not just hoping things get better.

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It has been as Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead once sang “a long strange trip” but it continues to get better. If you know someone struggling from the effects of PTSD or other combat trauma there are a lot of resources, sometimes they are hard to find and in some places due to the numbers of personnel suffering they are in short supply, but they are still can be found. My encouragement to others is not to give up, not to lose hope and to keep seeking help. It took me five years to get back to what is my “new normal.” I can’t go back to what I used to be and I don’t want to, my definition of what is “normal” has changed and that is okay.

My views on life, faith, politics, ministry and social issues have changed over the years, I think for the better. Some might disagree, but that is okay, I have been called a lot of things by people that do not understand over the past few years, but I would rather have that than be where I was before Iraq. Iraq changed me in ways I did not expect. When I left for Iraq in 2007 I thought that I was immune to PTSD because of my experience in dealing with trauma and death both in the military and the civilian world. I was wrong, but despite what I have gone through I am glad for the experience.

There is still one constant in my life, besides my wife Judy who has suffered much during my ordeal, and that is baseball. I can only echo the words of James Earl Jones in Field of Dreams “The one constant through all the years has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good, and what could be again.”

Peace

Padre Steve+

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January 17, 2013 · 14:26

The Unflappable Moll E Fur: A Courageous and Happy Dog Adjusts to Blindness

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At first I didn’t notice it but one night while walking Molly she ran into a neighbor’s car in the pitch black of the night. It surprised me. Molly had been chasing squirrels, deer and grabbing butterflies and dragonflies out of the air but I had noticed that she had become more tentative when walking at night and when going into my apartment during the daytime, but I didn’t think much of it, until she ran into that car. By late November and early December she was having more problems.

She was been seen by a local vet who had removed a benign tumor from her shoulder which had been causing her pain and hampering her mobility. I mentioned the vision loss and they did a look in the eyes and noticed small cataracts in each, but nothing that should cause that kind of loss. So we were referred to a veterinary eye care specialist.

We saw that doctor today and after a thorough examination she was diagnosed with Progressive Retinal Atrophy. This is a genetic and inherited disorder much like Macular Degeneration. Due to how fast it came on there was nothing we could do to even slow it down.

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The news was hard. We were hoping that it was simply cataracts that could be removed and her vision restored. The disease is progressive and we understand that she will probably go completely blind. However, the disease is painless for the dog, except maybe for when they run into a wall, but most dogs adjust and Molly has been doing that in a most amazing manner.

I think that the diagnosis was harder on us than her. She is adjusting and we are glad that it is not neurological condition or a brain tumor causing it. I have been worried about her because as Judy will testify, Molly has helped bring me back from the abyss of PTSD and helped bring me back to humanity. In a sense she helped save my life. She is daddy’s girl, she loves being around me and is good for me. I have never had a daddy’s girl before. Of our first two dogs, Frieda a Wire Hair Dachshund was her own dog, a dog unto herself and we were just the woefully inept hired help, and Greta a smooth hair Dachshund was mommy’s co-dependent baby.

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Her blindness is worse at night and she still does pretty well during the day. To help her at night I shine a flashlight on the ground behind me and she follows with confidence. During the day she trots along happily and does uses her other senses to avoid things and will run with me.

I have written about Molly before. She is scary smart and exceptionally good tempered. She has learned her way around, carefully at first and as she becomes adjusted to her surroundings becomes more confident. We have two steps in that lead to our living room and it is fascinating to watch her feel for them and then carefully take each step.

She savors all of life. She still gets excited to go for walks, she still plays and she loves to ride in the car and absolutely loves it when I spend time brushing her brilliant red and wavy fur. Not much has really changed for her.

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She also continues to push the envelope, doing things that she never did before. We have had a dog gate at the foot of our stairs for a long time. The reason for it was because Molly had had a spinal infection when she was seven years old and we didn’t want to take any chances on her hurting her back. It also helped keep her out of trouble, especially her perusing our closets for things to destroy when she was unhappy at being left home alone.

When she could see she never messed with the gate. Now however, she will push the gate open and then carefully go up the 13 steps to get upstairs. She has stopped trying to jump on the furniture and now is perfectly content with our bean bag chairs.

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She is using her senses in ways we never thought, carefully listening to everything and using her sense of smell as well as touch to get around and function. She will still chase after and play with our now one year old Papillon puppy Minnie, who I think figured out that Molly was having vision problems before us. Minnie seems to be doing what she can to help Molly around keep her going.

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We got Minnie shortly after Molly demanded to move to North Carolina with me and left Judy alone at home. Molly had been part of Judy’s alarm system and Minnie has become Judy’s guard dog. Minnie is mommy’s puppy and she is happiest and most secure with Judy.  She is also really sweet to Molly and as I said seems to be doing what she can to help Molly out when she is not annoying her. They are funny together.

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Molly seems to be going the extra mile to remind us that she is still relevant and capable. She will lay or sit by our front door and do guard duty, occasionally alerting and barking to let us know of whatever danger is out there. I was walking her at my North Carolina apartment at night and she sensed deer near us and gave chase and she will chase Minnie around the house.

What is cool about Molly is how unflappable she is. She is confident and determined and above all happy. I don’t think that I have ever seen a dog as happy and she is still extremely sweet and affectionate.

Dean Koontz wrote:

“One of the greatest gifts we receive from dogs is the tenderness they evoke in us. The disappointments of life, the injustices, the battering events that are beyond our control, and the betrayals we endure, from those we befriended and loved, can make us cynical and turn our hearts into flint – on which only the matches of anger and bitterness can be struck into flame. By their delight in being with us, the reliable sunniness of their disposition, the joy they bring to playtime, the curiosity with which they embrace each new experience, dogs can melt cynicism,and sweeten the bitter heart.”

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Despite her blindness the Mighty Miss Molly continues to enjoy life and adds a lot of joy to our lives. It hurts to see her go blind but at the same time she is such an inspiration to us.

Peace

Padre Steve+

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December 25, 2012 · 14:10

Christmas Traditions, Funny Dogs and it’s Good to Have Friends that Can Set Up Technical Stuff

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“In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it ‘Christmas’ and went to church; the Jews called it ‘Hanukkah’ and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say ‘Merry Christmas!’ or ‘Happy Hanukkah!’ or (to the atheists) ‘Look out for the wall!’ ~Dave Barry, “Christmas Shopping: A Survivor’s Guide”

Judy and I typically celebrate a very low key Christmas. We attend a worship service of some type and display a tree often decorated with hand-made ornaments that Judy produces in the weeks before Christmas. We now fix dinner at home and our favorite part of the day: letting the dogs unwrap their presents.

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The last part of the tradition has taken strong hold with our Papillon-Dachshund mix Molly. Molly savors everything and while our previous Dachshunds went along with the presents game, Molly tears into her presents unwrapping them with great zeal. Our nearly one year old Papillon puppy Minnie figured out what to do with her presents quickly as well and ripped them open with great aplomb. So I expect that this little tradition will continue for quite some time.

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Molly is now 11 and going on 12 years old. This year she went from having great eyesight to being mostly blind. It happened very quickly, within the past few months. She is adjusting much faster than I thought that she would or for that matter faster than I would. At first I was really worried wondering if she would adjust and what it would mean to her and us, but she not only adjusted but is doing quite well.

She is still happy, playful and energetic.  She makes adjustments in the house feeling her way up and down the 2 steps leading to our living room and making note of where the walls and doors are. She is re-learning our back yard and compensating for the blindness by being more careful, listening carefully and sensing where things are, especially Minnie.  Molly has taken to chasing Minnie in a game of cat and mouse, with Minnie dancing around while Molly tracks her. Sometimes it is funny because Molly will simply wait until Minnie gives her location, usually behind me on the beanbag away.

When she is prowling Molly now kind of reminds me of a Shark. Of course we all know that sharks have terrible eyesight and rely on other senses such as sound and smell to find, track and kill their prey. Molly is now our Red Land Shark.

Last night after coming home from dinner with our friends we were preparing to watch the 3D version of Men in Black 3 on the television-entertainment system that I won last week. Since I have few  technical ability our friend Randy came over to set it up the other day. Randy is like “The Tree that Knows Stuff” in the comic strip Over the Hedge while I am more like RJ the Raccoon.

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To use a different movie character illustration, when it comes to technical things I am like Donald Sutherland’s character “Oddball” in the movie Kelly’s Heroes.  There is a scene in the movie when asked by Telly Savalas’ character “Big Joe” about why he is not up fixing his tank with his crew Oddball replied: “I only ride ‘em, I don’t know what makes ‘em work.”  That was pretty much me when I started opening boxes and reading directions. Thankfully Randy, our Tree that Knows Stuff was able to come over and help.

I think the whole aversion to putting things like this together, comes from watching my dad’s valiant efforts to help us build the gifts that advertised “some assembly required” and “batteries not included” at Christmas. But I digress….

Like I was saying…while we were getting ready to watch the movie Judy noticed Minnie with a flour tortilla on our couch. Now we wondered if it was something that she had hidden there and just pulled out. However she was back in the kitchen and came back with another tortilla. We then realized what was going on. For the first time the two had worked together for a common goal.  As we looked into the dinning room we saw that Molly was going in and out the the kitchen. The two dogs had found that I had forgotten to unpack a bag of groceries.  In the bag they discovered a family size pack of flour tortillas, which Molly, yes Molly the blind, but not helpless had gotten into. It was the first time that the two dogs had worked together on a theft, and I hate to say I was proud of them. We were laughing so hard. Of course we had to put a stop to their revelry but it was fun while it lasted. Molly had a tortilla rolled up in her mouth and appeared to be trying to act like it wasn’t there.

Molly is not the first dog that we have had to assume that we were too incompetent to notice her thievery, our Wire Hair Dachshund Frieda was much worse.

Anyway, we are preparing our Christmas dinner and will enjoy a quiet night with our girls.

Peace and Merry Christmas to All,

Padre Steve+

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December 11, 2012 · 00:00

Padre Steve Gets into the Christmas Spirit in Spite of Himself

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“Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is about?” Charlie Brown

Well, it it still Advent but despite all my heartfelt leanings of liturgical calendar correctness I have caught the Christmas spirit early this year. I don’t know why, especially because I can be such a Grinch this time of year.

It began last week when I had to make 8 dozen cookies for our annual “cookie exchange” at the hospital where I serve. We had the exchange on Friday and it was combined with our Christmas Tree (Holiday Tree for those more politically correct than this moderate liberal) lighting.

Let’s face it without Martin Luther we wouldn’t do the Christmas tree thing anyway, the Calvinists that first settled this country were such party-poopers that that they thought the whole concept of celebrating Christmas was sinful. (See my article Christian Grinch’s: How the Puritans nearly stole Christmas  http://wp.me/prGqV-1tg  ) So I guess if we want to play the whole politically correct thing the Calvinists forefathers and mothers of our current Evangelical Christian defenders of “Christmas” actually had more in common with the current critics of the holiday than its defenders? But I digress…

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Martin Luther with his family at Christmas

So in the spirit of Martin Luther, that beer drinking foul mouthed German instigator of the Protestant Reformation, I have gotten into the Christmas spirit. For the first time since I was in Iraq I feel an eager anticipation of the coming of Christmas.

Puritan Christmas Ban

The Puritan’s Idea of a Very Calvin Christmas

Like I said it began last week. First there was my cookie baking adventure The Easy Baking Bachelor of Christmastide which was a success. In fact I plan on repeating it to some extent tonight, gifts for my minions at work and friends at the bar tomorrow. The cookie exchange took place Friday. I brought in the cookies and when I got to work one of the fellow members of the board of directors asked me if I was going to change into my dress blues as I was wearing my khakis. It was at that point that I thought to myself “Oh shit.” I had forgotten that those of us on the board of directors who are on active duty actually dress up when we do this. You see my dress blue uniform was hanging in my apartment, 25 miles away. Since I had to attend one of those good occasions where we were promoting a couple of dozen young sailors I could not leave immediately to change into the uniform.

I was happy to see the Sailors get promoted but I was not happy about having to make the trip home and back. Yes I could have weaseled my way out of the dress blue uniform but as much of a weasel as I can be I hate to look obvious. So when the ceremony ended at 0900 I dashed to my office, grabbed my cover, which is what we in the Navy call a hat and ran out to my car. I made it home in good time and then things started going to hell.

Molly, my little dog Molly decided that she needed to go out and since I was home early she assumed that I had all day to indulge her. It was a power fight, the little Papillon-Dachshund mix decided that she would fart around. Eventually I got her inside and went to get in my uniform, which to my surprise still had the large medals which I had on it for a change of command ceremony I had been participated in, and which I had to switch out for mere ribbons. I hurriedly changed the ribbons, gave Molly her “cookie” (not one of the chocolate chuck cookies but a dog treat) changed into my uniform and dashed to the car.

At that point something happened in me. It was as if I was having a Grinch moment, but in a good way: As the story goes: “And what happened, then? Well, in Whoville they say – that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day. And then – the true meaning of Christmas came through, and the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches, plus two!”

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It was a damn close run adventure getting back to the base on time. It seemed that if there was a red light that I caught it and to make matters worse, if there was a minnie-van driven by a doddering retiree or soccer mom who decided to do 5 miles an hour under the speed limit in the left hand lane I got behind them. In between praying and cussing and dodging in and out of impossible traffic situations I realized that I really wanted to make it on time. It was as if the Force was with me as I wove in and out of the insidiously poor drivers who could not drive nails and should not be behind the controls of modern automobiles.

Now this was strange because such ceremonial events are usually, no matter what the occasion are painful for me to attend, being that I am mildly introverted and anti-social. It was like when the Grinch’s grew and he had to dash to Whoville to save Christmas. It was almost a conversion experience, a Christmas miracle if you will. I was possessed with the need to make it on time despite the obstacles.

Despite construction zones, slow drivers hogging the fast lane, and traffic lights I was able to get to the hospital parking lot at 1028 with the ceremony scheduled to begin at 1030. I had no time to waste. Our employee parking lots are not convenient to getting into the building fast. We reserve that right for patients and visitors. This is probably a good business and PR practice but not helpful at this particular moment. So I found an empty spot in the outfield got out of my car and started to run. It was like the good old days before O.J. Simpson allegedly killed his wife Nicole, when he ran through airports in a suit for Hertz Rent-A-Car in TV commercials. I was flying. This is the great thing about being in shape and not straining to get into the uniform. I ran up the hill by our ER and down the hill, jumped curbs, ditches, and barriers as I wove between pedestrians and cars in the parking lot.  Marines, Sailors and civilians looked at crazy Navy officer dashing through the lot with amazement. Surely they though it must be an emergency, and in a sense it was. I was running out of time and I had to give the invocation.

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I made it on time and then the ceremony was delayed for 15 minutes. I breathed a sigh of relief and found that my heart had indeed grown three sizes that day because I was not cussing and swearing and acting like a complete idiot. It was a Christmas miracle. The ceremony went well and the two hours of conversations and chit-chatting that followed was enjoyable despite the uncomfortableness of my patent leather military issue shoes. I breathed a sigh of relief and knew that all was well in my world. When the day was done I went home and hung out with Molly before doing usual grilled chicken salad dinner at the neighborhood bar.

One would think that the story would end there but then one would be wrong. I carried the duty pager over the weekend and at about 0100 Saturday morning it went off. It was a call from the Emergency Room. A man was in cardiac arrest and I was needed. I rolled out of bed, waking up Molly who looked offended and I put on my uniform to head to the hospital. When I got there the patient had died, but I spent time and prayed with his wife, then other members of the family who arrived over the next hour. When all was done I drove back home where I woke up Molly, who by the way does not think kindly to being woken up at 0415.

The rest of the weekend was relatively uneventful. I went to our hospital Christmas party  Saturday night which was nice and on Sunday celebrated a Eucharist at home after sleeping late for the Second Sunday of Advent. I was tired but I felt great.

So this morning, despite not sleeping well due to holding the duty pager I got up and prepared for work. I had made one mistake however. I assumed that the North Carolina DOT had made appropriate traffic arrangements for traffic control since the bridge that connects us with the mainland is down to one lane due to the resurfacing of the road on it. I anticipated a 10-15 minute delay at the most, however the contractor did not use flagmen but used a timed traffic signal. The result was a traffic nightmare. It took an hour and a half to cover two miles. However instead of ranting and raving as might be my custom I decided instead of listening to news, political commentary, ESPN or even the 70’s channel to tune in to the Sirius radio station that played Christmas songs. It was great and I didn’t stress out. It took nearly 2 and a half hours to get to work today, normally it is about 35-45 minutes. But in that time I realized that I didn’t need to be a Christmas Grinch after all and that my dash to hospital on Friday was not a mistake.

So tonight, I made more cookies to distribute to my minions and friends tomorrow and watched my favorite television Christmas specials, A Charlie Brown Christmas and The Grinch that Stole Christmas. 

I am enjoying the lead up to Christmas for the first time in a long time and it feels good. I do hope that in spite of the Fiscal Cliff and all the problems of the world that maybe more people will have a Grinch conversion moment this year and perhaps like Charlie Brown discover the meaning of Christmas, not only now but all year round…

Christmas time is here

We’ll be drawing near

Oh, that we could always see

Such spirit through the year

Oh, that we could always see

Such spirit through the year…

Peace

Padre Steve+

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December 5, 2012 · 23:44

The Easy Baking Bachelor of Christmastide

I am not a cook, a baker, a candlestick maker. However I do make a mean pizza and apart from that pretty much stick to things that grow in cans, boxes or the produce aisle. Basically I am pretty much a little evolved hunter-gather much as were my Anglo-Saxon and Celtic ancestors.

This week our Board of Directors at the Naval Hospital is having its annual cookie baking exercise where each of us brings 8 dozen or more homemade cookies that we invite our hospital employees, military and civilian to partake of as we wish them the warmest seasons greetings, Christmas, Chanukah or whatever religious or even non-religious custom our employees celebrate. The idea is simply that we desire to wish people well while adding to their caloric intake of the holiday season.

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There is only one problem in this for me, I am a simple hunter-gatherer who due to the necessity of military life am living apart from my wife, who takes materials that I hunt and gather and turns them into wonderful cookies. This is something that I am capable of doing but would take a much greater expenditure of time as well as effort to actually make them from scratch. I would have to buy things that I would not use again, such as large mixing bowls and food items such as eggs and real butter. I would also have to wash all the dishes and since my apartment has no automated dishwasher save me, that is a lot of work.

Now we on the board do have options. If we want to go to a bakery that actually bakes cookies we can purchase them, however the only place on the island that I live on that bakes cookies is the gourmet dog food store. Molly my dog assures me that these very tasty looking morsels are quite good. However, I don’t think that they would appeal to my co-workers, though I did take a small bite of one myself to see what she saw in them. After tasting it I think I might be able to get away with it but all it would take is one person to figure it out.

I was in a real pickle. I could try to fake it and pretend that I baked the Oreos myself, but that wasn’t going to fly. Neither would the gourmet dog cookies. So I did the math. I figured the cost, time and effort required to buy all the, bowls, utensils and ingredients, find a recipe that I could follow and successful execute in the allotted time and knew that this would be a futile effort.

Now since I am a very rational person who is relative adept in the use of the English language and the definitions of words I went to work. I figured that if I prepare something at home it becomes homemade. When it comes to homemade it really is about what your definition of is is.  Even if I buy something that is a pre-made, pre-packaged bunch of mass produced ingredients at a supermarket and prepare them in my rather modest kitchen it still counts as homemade.  It is “homemade” just as my ancestors did when they looted French towns and took the mutton and porridge home to eat, only pausing to warm up the items over the open hearth. So apart from a minor amount of actual work I was able to bake 10 dozen chocolate chunk cookies in about the amount of time that it would take to loot Boulogne or any other coastal French town during the 100 years war.

Now I would have had 12 dozen cookies. However, I forgot that a batch of cookies was in the oven when I went out to the local distributor of cheap goods to buy plastic Christmas plates, as I have few plates of my own to take the homemade cookies to work on Friday. Needless to say when Molly, who went for the ride with me and I got home we returned to a smoky kitchen and two dozen charcoal cookies, sort of the same kind condition that my ancestors would leave coastal French towns in after a looting expedition back in the day.

So this bachelor has successfully tackled one holiday mission of the season and on to the next. Decorating the office door tomorrow. I have bought the materials and plan on assigning my junior minion to actually do the work. I love Christmas decorations, especially when someone else puts them up.

Peace

Padre Steve+

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November 22, 2012 · 11:07

Thanksgiving Memories Then and Now: Padre Steve’s Humorous Look at Our National Day

 

It is better to give than to receive so it is time to give thanks for all the blessings that I have received since last Thanksgiving, but before I do I have to philosophize just a bit.

You see while I am thankful for much I generally find that Thanksgiving Day leaves much to be desired. Not that I am adverse to giving thanks or being extremely grateful but I am really more of a Christmas kind of guy. I’m also not a big fan of getting up early to watch parades on TV, or for that matter especially in person.  I’d rather watch the man made disasters of when the big balloons that got away on the news or on You Tube.

I think it would be more fun since we are becoming a police state if we mounted surveillance cameras and Hellfire missiles on the floats. Could you see the surprise in the faces of terrorists and even law abiding citizens when they realized that Snoopy, Garfield and the Cat in the Hat were targeting them. If we have to live in a police state I think it should it might as well be fun.

Enough about parades, after all who cares about parades anyway when you can watch what are historically some of the worst professional football games of the season.  Today the 4-6 Detroit Lions will find yet another way to lose on Thanksgiving as they play the 9-1 Houston Texans as they play in the Sacrificial Lamb Bowl. The 5-5 Dallas Cowboys play the revived 4-6 Washington Redskins in the Mediocrity Bowl. In a third game on prime-time the 7-3 New England Patriots will play the 4-6 New York Jets in the I Hate You and Everything that You Stand For Bowl.  I have no idea how we ended up with those teams year after year on Thanksgiving but I guess for Cowboys fans, Jets fans and all 964 Lions fans it works well, not that there is anything wrong with that.

While the professional football players ready themselves for combat the professional bargain hunters are preparing for their own form of mortal combat where no prisoners are taken and the weak to do not survive. Yes it is “Black Friday Eve” and though many will sacrifice by camping outside of stores in abominable weather, deceiving potential rivals to get a better place in line and if need be resorting to violence to make their Christmas wishes come true.  As for me I will avoid big retailers like the plague and do almost all of my shopping online where I feel safe in my virtual world.  The sad thing in this is that so many employees of the big stores are already at work preparing for the Black Friday deals and sales that they will not be with their families, friends or other loved ones today. But who cares about them? If we can get a big HDTV made by slave laborers in China at big savings  isn’t it worth it?

I like the times to get together and spent time with family and friends, though due to my military career it has been years since we have spent Thanksgiving with family.  There is something about a 3000 mile buffer zone that comes with being in the military that makes it hard to get to and from the West Coast. My brother will be hosting this at his home this year with his family, my mom and his in-laws. He’s a better man than me. Of course as many can attest even in the most loving and functional families holiday get-togethers were not always the most enjoyable occasions.  It is the stuff that movies are made of when after the mandatory grace was said and tempers flared and people stormed outside while the children found new ways to get under their parents skin. I was especially good at the latter.

Stephen Colbert says it this way: “Thanksgiving is a magical time of year when families across the country join together to raise America’s obesity statistics. Personally, I love Thanksgiving traditions: watching football, making pumpkin pie, and saying the magic phrase that sends your aunt storming out of the dining room to sit in her car.”

But food is the centerpiece of any true Thanksgiving celebration is the Thanksgiving Dinner and the source of many pleasant memories as well as those we would like to forget but due to the trauma cannot. Most of these dishes were prepared by certain elderly relatives including my Granny who could tell you the history of any dish that appeared on the table, to include who gave it to here how many weeks prior to the event.

There was the ever present green bean salad frequently bathed in something that might have been mayonnaise or possibly Cool Whip.  Now the fact that it was spruced up a bit with Chernobyl Onions, boiled potatoes, slimy mushrooms or other additives that remain a mystery to this day didn’t make it any better, just more challenging to wonder who came up with the idea.

Another positively scary dish was the puke green Jell-O salad which I think was made of Jell-O, mayonnaise and would have canned pineapple or dry cat food thrown in just to make sure that there was something real in this unearthly concoction.  Of course one cannot forget the times that the Turkey didn’t turn out quite right being underdone or charred beyond belief.  The stuffing stuck to everything like a chunky primordial slime or mashed potatoes resembled Potato soup or were so chewy and dry that you had to add more of the 40 weight Pennzoil gravy just to get them down.  My late mother in law had a delicacy that we called Brown and Burn rolls and my late paternal Grandmother “Granny” who I have previously mentioned had something white, which might have been meat in white gravy but has never been identified despite the best efforts FBI forensics investigators.

Of course in many household the children serve a purpose akin to that of a Persian Emperor’s official food taster.  I can remember as a kid being forced to eat something from almost every dish on the table just to make sure that Aunt Betty Lou Who or Grammy Sue Who (the names have been changed to protect their memories) would not be offended if no one ate what they prepared.

Now not everything was bad as most of the time no matter how badly everything else turned out the pie was good, well at least in most cases.  My favorite pie at Thanksgiving was one that a trio of my Great Aunts made. Now these aunts were really great, when we went to their house on 18th Street in Huntington West Virginia for Thanksgiving or any other occasion they laid out a wonderful spread, but the most delightful dish was their Graham Cracker Pie. This is a pie, well that was a dumb statement, of course it was pie, but this pie had a home-made graham cracker and cinnamon crust, was filled with vanilla pudding, the good stuff, not instant and a meringue top which was encrusted with the graham cracker cinnamon mix.  Thankfully Judy had Aunt Viva, the last of the trio write down the recipe before she passed away and she has made it on occasion keeping this one family delicacy alive.  In addition to the Graham Cracker Pie there was Banana Crème and Chocolate Crème, Pumpkin and Sweet Potato, Apple, Cherry as well as other pies that would make an occasional appearance.

Not Thanksgiving Day but close enough: Dinner with General Sabah in Ramadi

As I noted we have been away from family most of our married life and we have frequently spent Thanksgiving with friends, many times single people that we hosted other times people that would host us and those were always enjoyable. I have also spent a good number of Thanksgivings deployed and those have been special, especially 2007 when I was in Iraq and after a mission to the Syrian border when I helped to serve the troops at the dining facility.  Those times make you very thankful and not in a joking sense about all the blessings that we have in the United States.

As most readers know I am just a tad irreverent at times and nowhere was this more in evidence than Thanksgiving 1991 when we hosted a number of our single friends from work or church since none of us were very well off, I was still in seminary and money was not a great commodity. Judy asked me since I was going into ministry if I would pray for the food. That was not a good way to phrase the question because at times, well most of the time tend to find the dark humor in anything and this time was no exception. I think the prayer went something like this. I’m sure that it was longer than this because there are times when I get on a roll and can’t shut up, but this captures the spirit of that “prayer for the food.”

Dear Lord we ask you to be with the soul of this turkey and all of his or her relatives this Thanksgiving. Relieve them of their pain and comfort the survivors in Jesus name. Amen.

As I prayed I noticed Judy glaring daggers at me as our guests looked on in dismay.  To this day she always keeps a foot ready to kick me just in case I try something like this again. Likewise she is always careful in how she phrases what she wants me to pray for lest I become too literal in my prayer.

This year I have much to be thankful for, my wonderful wife Judy, friends, family and my little dog Molly who over the course of the past year has helped me become a functional part of human society again. Then there is Minnie, our new addition, a 10 month old Papillon puppy who is always happy to drink my beer or coffee should I leave it in her range.

The Giants won the World Series, the Orioles and A’s surprised everyone by rocking the playoffs the 49ers are doing well and UCLA defeated USC.

As  sit here with Molly at my feet and Minnie on Judy’s lap on this quiet and peaceful Thanksgiving.

Have a blessed day! Happy Thanksgiving friends.

Peace

Padre Steve+

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October 28, 2012 · 22:51

Run Padre Run: Peace after the Storm

Today was a day of recuperation from a long couple of weeks of which yesterday was hard after being victimized by a larceny at work. Today despite carrying the duty pager, has been as close to a day off as I have had in a couple of weeks.

After watching the ball game last night knowing that I was carrying the duty pager today I decided to sleep as late as my body and my dog Molly would let me. Not that she was in the mood to get out either since we were being pounded by tropical storm force winds and heavy rain. She is not a fan of rain.

Since I didn’t have any pages from work I got up about noon, yes noon, I needed it as evidently Molly did too. So have I took her on a walk I decided to take a tip to see how our town had weathered the storm. It was not bad and I took Molly to the beach to check things out. Since things didn’t look bad and the weather reports showed the rain ending I decided to go for a run about 3PM after I had celebrated Eucharist. It turned into a Forrest Gump run.

Initially I planned on doing about 4-5 miles. When I got to the beach I decided to take a right and head southwest toward the end of the island which is called “the Point.” At the 2 mile point I felt good so I kept going and had to turn into the wind which was blowing at about 30-40 MPH from the north for about a mile. I had forgotten what it was like to run into a wind like that, at times I felt like I was standing still. Things got better when I turned around and rediscovered the advantages of a strong tailwind. Out at the point sand was racing along the beach faster than me blown by the stiff wind and I was glad that I had long running pants on rather than shorts.

Very few people were out today although a few hearty souls were out looking for shells or in some cases had metal detectors out. I got up to the beach entrance where I live and still felt good and wanted to do more even though I knew that if I went straight home it would be a nice 6 mile run. However I could see the Bogue Banks Fishing Pier in the distance. I had always wanted to do the whole beach and since I still felt good I kept running. Last week I had ran the furthest I had in a long time when I did 7.1 miles, out to the Point and then up the beach a bit. I figured that I could do 7 miles and then it was 8 and I went under the pier and kept going about another quarter mile. I thought of going further but since conditions were beginning to deteriorate I decided to turn back. I ran into some more wind on the way back but I finished the run. I wasn’t fast, the combination of wind and occasionally soft sand slowed me down but it was nice, a bit under 2 hours for the 11.2 miles, about 5.6 miles an hour. The was really slow from about the 8th mile I figure I was doing about 6.5 miles an hour before I hit the pier.

Regardless it was a good feeling to finish and know that I am in about good enough shape that I could do a half-marathon again. At 52 years old I don’t need to be fast, but just to know that I can do it gives me a lot of satisfaction.

Tomorrow it will be back to my weekday circuit training when I do lots of push-ups of various types, crunches and abdominal exercises between laps of 1/3 of a mile for an hour or so. It will still be windy and it looks like that the nights are going to be the coldest that we have had since last winter. But at least we are not in the direct path of Sandy. I have been through a good number of hurricanes and tropical storms, all in the summer when the temperatures were warm, I would not want to take one like Sandy especially with a winter storm bearing in as well. Somehow flooding, cold weather and snow combined with power outages does not seem fun.

Today was interesting because usually some song from the 1970s will be going through my head as I run. Last week it was Bob Seeger’s Against the Wind  the day before it was Linda Ronstadt’s You’re no Good, today it was Rod Stewart’s Do you think I’m Sexy. Sometimes it is Abba, Blondie or Doctor Hook. It is not like I plan on my internal I-Pod to play these songs, but it is what it is.

Now it is time to settle in and see what happens in the World Series. I am hoping for the sweep but if the Giants do win I wonder how many South Park seasons I can watch between now and the election.

Peace

Padre Steve+

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September 8, 2012 · 22:47

Molly and the End of Padre Steve’s Strategic Pop-Tart Reserve

Pop-Tarts and Twinkies are two foods that one needs to survive the apocalypse. Both are durable foods, nearly impervious to decay, the half life of both is rumored to be classified at the highest levels of government.  This has to be true because RJ the Raccoon in the comic strip Over the Hedge maintains the Strategic Twinkie Reserve for such emergencies.

In light of this I used to keep Pop-Tarts in my car. They would be my breakfast on the way to work or sugar to meld with caffeine on long trips. I also wanted them in in the car to be prepared in case some great calamity would occur, Zombies, hurricanes, earthquakes, an invasion of 100 foot long Iranian backed terrorist Cockroaches or the Cubs winning the World Series and forcing Jesus to move up his plans for the Second Coming. I am one to prepare for such emergencies.

The great thing about Pop-Tarts is that unlike most foods Pop-Tarts do not go bad. The weather can be hot and dry, warm and humid or cold as blazes and they will survive. This is true even if you only eat one of the two Pop-Tarts in the packet, and leave the packet open in the car. Even if you do this the other will remain edible for weeks, months, maybe years. They may dry out a bit, but they will survive. This makes them ideal to keep in the car because unlike a candy bar they will not melt.

Pop-Tarts, like Twinkies contain an inordinate amount of sugar. If you need a kick that only a sugar rush or amphetamines can supply Pop-Tarts are one of the most indestructible sources available.

Back before my little Papillon-Dachshund mix Molly came down to live with me I would only see her when I visited Virginia Beach or Judy brought her to see me. On one of these trips home to Virginia I left one opened and and one unopened package of Pop-Tarts in the storage area under the front passenger seat of my Honda CR-V. I had left them there and forgotten about them because there really was no need to do anything with them. They were there for emergencies, like my flash light and warning triangle and they were indestructible. This was my Mobile Strategic Pop-Tart Reserve or MSPTR.

However, on that Saturday morning I needed to go to the local Farm Fresh grocery store for a few breakfast items. Since it was a cool winter morning I asked Molly if she wanted to go with me. Molly loves rides and didn’t need to be asked twice. She bounded to the car, which at the time was my old 2001 Honda CR-V. Molly jumped into the car and took her place in the passenger seat.

I left her in the car as I went in to the store. As is her habit she barked at me, quite offended that she was not going with me. I was in the store for about 10 minutes and when I came back to the car I saw a very hyper dog and empty Pop-Tart wrappers all over the front seat and floorboard. Molly had discovered the MSPTR. The really interesting thing was that she did not simply rip open the unopened package. She had neatly opened it along the seam, like you or I would do, as if she had thumbs.

At this point there was nothing that I could do but laugh. Yelling at her would not do anything because the Pop-Tarts were gone and I had left them in easy reach. The dog is not stupid and she took the target of opportunity. However, she did not count of the sugar rush. For the next hour it was like she was on speed. She darted around the house running around in circles, grabbing toys and bouncing off furniture until she finally ran out of gas. When she ran out of gas she crashed hard.

Judy and I could not help but laugh as we talked about it and the event had long lasting implications. I discovered the one vulnerability of the MSTPR. It was not Molly proof.

That was the end of the mobile Strategic Pop-Tart Reserve. After that I switched to fresh fruit which could not be left in the car without the danger of melting down, forcing me to eat it and throw away the remains or take it into work or the house.

Perhaps one day I will start another MSPTR in my Ford Escape, but since Molly now lives with me and rides with me more often I will have to do a better job of securing the MSPTR than I did in the past. To put in in military terms I will need to increase my force protection level if I want to do this. Molly is not to be trusted around food. This morning I left my bowl of cereal next to the bean bag and turned my back to get my coffee and when I turned around Molly was happily eating my cereal. I looked at her and said “what do you think you are doing?” She backed off and I finished the cereal. When I was done I put the bowl down for her to finish the residue. Some people would find that part gross but when you have had dogs as long as us there are some things that you just get used to. Evidently I need to increase my force protection level at home as well.

The scary thing is that our new Papillon puppy Minnie is a very smart little dog and I’m sure that when I am back in Virginia that she will begin to ride with me as well. Minnie likes to try to steal sips of my beer and my coffee, sometimes with me looking right at her. She will also attempt to go behind my back in order to steal food from behind. Since she is not ever 8 pounds and very light of step she can make a stealthy approach. So I know that nothing will be safe from her.

Peace

Padre Steve+

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