Tag Archives: Baseball

September 21, 2009 · 23:07

Yet Another Blast from the Past and Padre Steve and House MD experience a bit of healing, but Have a Long Way to Go

It happened again. No not a PTSD meltdown or anything similar to that but another one of those circumstances where you have to scratch your head and say to yourself “I didn’t see that coming.” If you have read this site for any time at all you probably have noticed that I tend to bump into people from my past with some regularity, sometimes in unlikely places. When I run into people it just gets plain unusual. In fact if I was a Vegas odds maker and I gave odds at some of the people that I met in some of the places I met them I would be one broke odds maker. Like I’ve met a guy I sat next to in Navy Junior ROTC at Edison High School, Stockton California in West Berlin hadn’t seen each other in years and he recognized me. I met an Army Major in early August 2007 my transitional tent after arriving in Iraq who had been a 2^ndLieutenant and platoon leader in the last National Guard battalion that I served in 1995. When presenting the flag at the funeral of a retired Army Master Sergeant in 1989 I was greeted by his daughter who had been in a church singles group that Judy and I worked with. I’ve bumped across people from my Chaplain Officer Basic course in Iraq, Okinawa and even in the local area. Today was not any different as far as being to unusual for me.

I noted in a recent post I had given the invocation at the kick off for the Norfolk Naval Shipyard. This prayer sets the stage for a reunion that ranks up with all of the above, maybe even higher because of the sheer improbability of it all. I had an e-mail in my inbox from a man who works as the director of our hospital military blood bank. I recognized the name as I read the e-mail. I knew him 23-24 years ago in Germany. I was the very young company commander of the 557^th Medical Company (Ambulance) in Wiesbaden Germany. I was a total rookie at the command game and the unit was in a time of transition. I was a interim commander as the Group figured out what it was going to do on a permanent commander. A month or so after taking command I received the first of three new Second Lieutenant Platoon leaders, all fresh out of the Officer Basic Course. The first on deck was 2^nd Lieutenant Ralph Peters. Ralph was a brainy guy but eager to do well. When I turned over command he remained and when I went stateside he was still with 557^th. I occasionally think about the officers, NCOs and Soldiers of the company, especially my old Platoon, the Second Platoon. I have stayed in contact with my first XO, Pat Bradley who retired as a Lieutenant Colonel a few years back and still works for the Army as a civilian. Likewise I have kept in contact with a number of others from our sister units as well as some of the enlisted through Classmates.com and Facebook. However I was unprepared for today.

I got an e-mail from Ralph; he had seen me at the CFC kickoff. He let me know that he occasionally thought about me and prayed for me over the years and was pleased to see me as serving as a Navy Chaplain. I hope to see him sometime tomorrow. The strange thing is I know I have seen him in the hallway never seeing his name badge. I occasionally thought when I passed him that he had an uncanny resemblance to Ralph, which considering that he is Ralph this is quite fitting.

Today was also a time of some healing. I can’t go into any details except it was a good resolution and new start in a relationship that has been troubled lately. Surprisingly I seemed that God was involved too. To those who pray for me even without me asking thank you. This happened to coincide with Doctor House getting thrown in a State Psychiatric hospital. There have been a few times since I returned from Iraq where I thought that I might be better off locked up so it kind of struck a chord. The turning point was where House decided that he wanted to cooperate and get better something that I badly want. The sleeplessness, nightmares, anxiety and fear of certain situations is draining and now there is no local baseball to see that the minor league season is over I do not have that place of refuge. I don’t like the feeling of vulnerability that I have is unnerving. I just want to be better but I don’t think it’s going to happen anytime soon and sometimes that creates a sense of despair and weariness. At the same time as the Deity Herself seems to show me improbable and even miraculous things sometimes happen. So until then I will continue to throw myself into my work, try to catch a little baseball on TV do some writing and register for my comprehensive exams to finish the Masters Degree in Military History before Christmas. If nothing else I’ll stay active to cover what I can’t fix. Someone reminded me today that I am no longer in Iraq, but was quick enough to add that part of me still was there. I hate being in two places at once. Pray for me a sinner.

Peace,

Steve+

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Filed under iraq,afghanistan, PTSD

Tagged as 557th medical company, Army, Baseball, combined federal campaign, iraq, medical service corps, navy chaplain, PTSD, wiesbaden

August 27, 2009 · 16:59

Investigate Novitzky and the Prosecutors in the BALCO Major League Baseball Investigation

Baseball players who are accused of or admitted to the use of steroids and other alleged performance enhancing drugs prior to their being banned by baseball have been demonized by the Federal Government and media. I do not agree with taking them, but at the age of 49 and still having to complete regular physical fitness tests and physical conditioning I wouldn’t mind if someone prescribed me some HGH. I’ve got enough nagging injuries that hurt that I have to take a couple of pain medications on a regular basis anyway. If someone offered me the chance to do more than get pain relief I would jump at it. Major League Ball players get dinged up a lot over the course of Spring Training, a 162 game season and up to a month of post season play. They also are dependant of their physical condition to make their living. Likewise our society as a whole has become a nation addicted to enhancing performance. It is pervasive and not merely isolated to professional sports, especially not baseball.

Over the past 10 years certain people who have no legal oversight to baseball such as IRS investigator Jeff Novitzky have engaged in a gross abuse of governmental power. In his investigation he has either been permitted or encouraged by the prosecutors of Barry Bonds to break the law. The prosecutors acted either out of omission by turning a blind eye to Novitzky’s conduct or out of commission by cooperating with him. Not only has this been shown now repeatedly as court after court has thrown out evidence or dismissed charges against Novitzky’s chief target Barry Bonds. Yesterday the 9^th Circuit Court ruled that Novitzky’s investigative team illegally seized thousands of records without probable cause. Chief Judge Alex Kozinski stated “This was an obvious case of deliberate overreaching by the government in an effort to seize data as to which it lacked probable cause.” Since February leak after leak of names from a list of 104 players who allegedly tested positive on a screening that was only to be used to see how pervasive the use of steroids was in baseball with the understanding that the list would not be made public and in fact would be destroyed. The leaks obviously are coming from investigators who are the only people with access to the records who have motive to leak information. The act of prosecutors or investigators leaking the documents that are sealed is illegal. The consistent leaking to various reporters has Former U.S. Attorney and chief of the criminal division for the Southern District of California Charles La Bella said: “The information shouldn’t have been seized. People have been unfairly tainted by something the courts have ruled should never have been made public.”

Novitzky, his team and superiors had a warrant to get information on 10 individuals. They knowingly exceeded their authority without probably cause and seized thousands of records. They then allowed information the courts had to be made public. What did they find besides the records at BALCO? Under $2000 worth of illegal performance enhancing substances, nothing more suggesting a widespread manufacture or distribution of them.

The apparent collaboration of Novitzky with BALCO prosecutors Jeff Nedrow and Matthew Parrella has tainted the case against Bonds or anyone else whose names have been leaked. I have to say apparent because there is no proof to this point that Novitzky is the leaker but the evidence based on what he has done so far in breaking the law in regard to the seizure of evidence makes it a reasonable supposition.

The judge in the Bonds case, Susan Illston was openly skeptical of Novitzky’s conduct, saying in open court: “I think the government has displayed … a callous disregard for constitutional rights. I think it’s a seizure beyond what was authorized by the search warrant, therefore it violates the Fourth Amendment.” Ninth Circuit Chief Judge Kozinski wrote of Novitzky’s conduct: “The record reflects no forensic lab analysis, no defusing of booby traps, no decryption…Rather, the case agent immediately rooted out information pertaining to all professional baseball players and used it to generate additional warrants and subpoenas to advance the investigation.”

Such conduct by government agents is a moral and legal quantum leap above the actions allegedly committed by Bonds or others. Their actions may have hurt baseball, but that is for baseball to judge, not the government. With the House and Senate hearings in which current and former players have been hauled before the committees with television cameras rolling while Congressmen and Senators pontificate making scripted statements in which the players are condemned without actual charges being filed or convicted of any crime. The Congressional committees have become kangaroo courts where men are held accountable to standards that their accusers are not even accountable to.

I know about out of control investigators. I have had first hand dealings with men who think that they can bully people and use the law to bring themselves professional accomplishment and personal gain at the expense of people who they have no probable cause to investigate. When I was an Army Company Commander in Germany in the mid-1980s I had to deal with a unit that had the highest drug positive rate in Europe. I was told to “clean up that company” by the Group Commander when I took command. The prosecutor became a friend, at the same time I abided by the laws and regulations governing drug testing as well as choosing the appropriate level to deal with the offense. However, I was also tested and even more often than my soldiers. Because of the drug positive rate the CID took an interest in my unit. Two agents came to my office one day and asked me if I would allow them to place a CID agent in the unit undercover not to deal with the drug problem, but to “investigate suspicions of unit personnel engaging in the black market sale of American cigarettes on the economy to Germany nationals.” I became suspicious of them. I asked if they had probable cause or evidence that any of my soldiers were engaged in this activity. They said they had no proof, evidence or even probable cause, only that black marketing of cigarette was a problem and that they needed to place an agent in order to get the proof. With them in the room I called my prosecutor buddy and told him what they were asking and he told me that if it was his company that he would make them show probable cause and do an open investigation. That confirmed my gut feelings about the matter and I thanked him and hung up the phone. I then looked at the agents, told them to give me probable cause and that I would consider it. I was accused at that point by one of them of covering up criminal activity and that he would get me too. I simply told them to get out of my office and out of my building and that they wanted to accuse me of a crime to go ahead. I ever saw them again. I presume that they tried this because I was a pretty junior First Lieutenant up to my ears in disciplinary problems and agree to what they wanted. I knew if I did this that that I would destroy any confidence that was being build in the chain of command, destroy the cohesion that I was working hard to build following the relief of the previous commanding officer and subject my soldiers to an inquisition that would destroy my company.

How many journalists or politicians are tested for performance enhancing drugs in their professions? Would not the public responsibility of both journalists and elected Congressmen, Senators and for that matter non-military or law enforcement government employees actually be more important to society as to whether a baseball player took something to heal from an injury faster or be better at his game? It is hypocritical for journalists or politicians to hold these men to standards that they themselves are not accountable to. When those journalists or politicians then embolden out of control investigators and prosecutors who courts have ruled violated the Constitution in their illegal actions, the nation they say that is okay for the government to violate the law and citizens Constitutional rights.

That is the bigger issue than if baseball has a steroids problem, or had a steroids problem before it began its testing system. Add to this the staggering costs of the Bonds investigation alone, $55 million as of January 2009 plus the monetary costs of the Congressional hearings. One also is forced to ask what Congress could have been doing with the time, money and effort spent on the hearings. Are there not more pressing issues to deal with and is this not a warped sense of public service? Should Congress even be worried about this with two ongoing wars, ongoing terrorist threats, and an economic crisis, a political divide that has moved from opposition to pure hatred and a potential H1N1 Flu pandemic on the horizon? Where are the priorities for these people? Let baseball police itself. It has a testing program now; the allegations are all things that happened 6-15 years ago when the standards were not even clear.

It is time for this to stop. The prosecutors and Novitzky and anyone else working on this case suspected of misconduct should be investigated and if they have violated the law they should be charged and tried as any other person would be. It is my view that all of this now is not being done to benefit baseball, but to enhance the careers of men who believe that they are both morally superior and think themselves above the law. All investigations of ball players that are based on accusations and evidence before Major League Baseball banned specific performance enhancing drugs and supplements substances should be ended now. It is a miscarriage of justice.

Now if baseball wants to ban players from the game or not elect them to the hall of fame, that is a matter for baseball to decide, not that of Congress and certainly not that of Jeff Novitzkty or anyone else who have disgraced their offices by their utter disregard of the law and the Constitutional rights of American citizens.

Peace, Steve+

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Filed under Baseball, philosophy, state government agencies

Tagged as balco, banned perfromance enhancing substances, barry bonds, Baseball, baseball hall of fame, c.i.d., charles labella, congressional hearings, cost of berry bonds investigation, drug testing, fourth ammendment, h1n1, HGH, i.r.s., jeff nedrow, jeff novitzky, judge alex kozinski, matthew parrella, ninth circuit court, prosecutors, san fransisco giants, senate hearings, susan illston, the 104 name list, u.s. attorney's office

August 20, 2009 · 00:26

Class Acts in Baseball: Tommy Lasorda

“Listen, if you start worrying about the people in the stands, before too long you’re up in the stands with them.” Tommy Lasorda

I have had the privilege of meeting some great baseball players and managers over my lifetime beginning back in 1970 when my dad would take us to see the Angels at Anaheim Stadium. One manager who I think is a class act is Dodger’s great and hall of fame manager Tommy Lasorda. Despite the fact that he “bleeds Dodger Blue” and is forever associated with mortal rival of my Giants, I have always liked him. It really began when the Abbess of the Abby Normal and I moved to the San Fernando Valley to attend California State University at Northridge in 1980.

Money was tight so we did not get to see many games while in school. Television for us was the old 13 inch black and white TV’s, until Judy’s dad had her come home to pick up a new 13 inch color TV that he had bought for her dorm room. Neither of us had cable but the Dodgers and Angels were frequently on either local or national stations so I did get my baseball fix. In doing so I got to watch a great manager in action. He always seemed to have some nugget of practical down to earth wisdom that made sense, especially in leadership and dealing with people. He still has a knack for it and he is gracious when you meet him. He is a very real person who has despite his “Dodgerism” managed to find a soft spot in my heart. I can relate to him, he speaks in my kind of language and a lot of his leadership and managerial philosophy and approach to people are similar to mine. Of course this is something that has taken me a long time to figure out having played around with various approaches throughout my life. Lasorda is simply himself; he is a regular guy who is comfortable with himself. I think that is one of the big things that has made a difference in my life. I am finally comfortable with whom I am and want to be the best at being me and doing what I do, whatever that may be. One of the keys for me is to I just have to good at being me and who I am within my calling and vocation as a Priest, chaplain and writer.

I remember back in 2003 as I was waiting for a Jacksonville Suns game to begin, the Suns at the time being the Southern League AA affiliate of the Dodgers. Mr. Lasorda walked right in front of me as he came off of the field. I looked up from whatever I was doing and realized that I had seen a legend. I was awestruck, a man who I held in such esteem walks right by me. I had always wanted his autograph but even now I am hesitant to just walk up to someone and ask as I try to respect their space. At Harbor Park I have gotten to meet some of the players charting the games and some of the scouts and collect some autographs always being respectful of them and letting them know if it is for the Baseball Shrine in my kitchen and dining room or if I am having signed for someone else, usually sick kids in the hospital that I work at. So I sat and kind of brooded, according to the Abbess I am quite good at brooding even before I came back from Iraq. I guess I brood well so I sat in my seat wanting to go up and ask him to sign the baseball that I had, but not feeling like I should. About that time an usher that I knew came up, tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Mr. Lasorda will sign your ball for you.” I looked at him funny and said “Really?” He said yes and with that I went over to where Mr. Lasorda was sitting and said “Mr. Lasorda I was going to college in Los Angeles when you managed the Dodgers to the Worlds Series win over the Yankees. I would be honored if you would sign this ball. He looked up at me, took the ball, signed it and then shook my hand. I felt like a kid again, but then when don’t I feel like a kid at a ball game?

The ball is now in a case displayed with other signed baseballs and memorabilia in my dining room. It is a connection to a classy man who always managed to inspire me. He was also true to his word: “ALWAYS give an autograph when somebody asks you.”

Tonight at Harbor Park I saw the Tides win a vital game against the Gwinnett Braves and in the process paid off the 1967 signed Willie Mays baseball card that Marty the Card Dealer had for me and had the baseball that I carry every day at work signed by Tides pitcher Chris Waters who was charting the game. Elliott the Usher and his lovely bride Robin celebrated their 42^nd wedding anniversary tonight, neither look old enough to have that much time in service in their marriage. If they were not from Massachusetts but Appalachia I might think that their parents had married them off when they were 10. Congratulations to these wonderful folks and many more.

Peace, Steve+

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Tagged as abby normal abbess, Baseball, California Angels, california state university northridge, chris waters, elliott the usher, gwinnett braves, harbor park, jacksonville suns, los angeles, los angeles dodgers, norfolk tides, san fernando valley, san fransisco giants, southern league, tommy lasorda, willie mays

August 17, 2009 · 22:36

Things that Go Plunk on the Diamond: Bean balls, Comebackers and Getting Run Over at Second or Home

Pete Rose Taking out Ray Fosse at Home during the 1970 All Star Game

For the sake of the shear sportiness and terror of it all there is nothing quite as thrilling as getting beaned by a pitcher, creamed by a comebacker or run over by an aggressive runner coming into Second or Home. Likewise catching a bat in the face or head qualifies as somewhat sporty. This was really brought into focus this weekend when three players, the Met’s All-Star Third Baseman and former Norfolk Tides infielder David Wright, Dodgers pitcher Hiroki Kuroda and Texas Rangers Infielder Ian Kinsler took shots in the head on Saturday. Wright was taken down by a 94 MPH fastball from Giants pitcher Matt Cain. I am a Giants fan and the pitch certainly was not intentional but the sight was chilling as the ball hit Wrights helmet and put him on the ground. A video on Wright’s MLB page is linked here: http://mlb.mlb.com/team/player.jsp?player_id=431151

The pitch from Cain was not intentional, just a high and tight fastball that got away from him. However the hit on Wright was brutal, Wright was down for about a minute, was taken to hospital where her was diagnosed with a concussion and could be out for the season. The blast that Kuroda took off of the bat of Arizona Diamondback Rusty Ryal had the potential to kill him. Kuroda also suffered a concussion but never lost consciousness. A video of the play, which was ruled a Ground Rule double as the ball went off of Kuroda’s head into the dugout is here: http://mlb.mlb.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20090815&content_id=6445324&vkey=news_la&fext=.jsp&c_id=la

Kinsler took a pitch to the helmet from Fernando Cabrera following a hit on his shoulder. Kinsler remained in the game.

Taking a shot or getting plunked is no fun. Playing in a sandlot game in 3^rd grade I took a line drive comebacker to the face. The ball slammed by left check just below my eye and put me down on the ground. I have taken a number of pitches to my body, never any to the head. When I played I saw getting hit by a pitch as a way to raise my On Base Percentage before I even knew what that was. Nonetheless getting balls thrown at you either intentionally or unintentionally does make you a bit nervous. If you have read my blog I admit that I was never much of a hitter. However I have never admitted until now that I didn’t try very hard to get out of the way of inside pitches. I may not been much of a hitter but I was pretty good at going on base either due to walking, getting hit or running out a play at first when a infielder bobbled a ball and couldn’t make a play. Getting hit was the easiest albeit the most painful way to get on base. I wish I had kept stats and charted my at bats when I was a kid playing organized Little League ball. I was probably hit by pitches more than anyone on the team. The other scary or sporty things that I found were taking a bat to the head, which happened to me twice and getting run over by someone bigger than you at Second or Home plate which happened to me in baseball and softball.

The thing that is the terrible thing about what happens when one takes a big hit is that the player is often not the same following the incident. Of particular note what happened to Ray Fosse of the Indians when ran over by Pete Rose in the 1970 All-Star game. Rose plowed over Fosse and has been accused by some of ruining Fosse’s career. The impact is one of the most memorable in All Star Game history, I remember watching the game as my dad cheered Rose, one of his favorite players of all time around third and into Fosse on that final play of that memorable All Star Game. I can feel for Fosse as when I was playing softball in college I was run over by an opposing player at home plate. The impact hurled me back about 6 feet as I was jumping to catch the throw from the outfield which was over my head. I ended up falling on my right hand jamming the arm and breaking a small bone in the wrist ending my season, which patently was the best season I had hitting in either baseball or softball hitting over .300 with 2 triples and 6 doubles. A friend of ours took a picture of the impact which was amazing, as it captured the moment when the opposing player put his shoulder into me with me in the air and ball almost in my glove. Unfortunately I lost my copy of it years ago and the friend has since passed away. I have also been bowled over at Second as opposing players attempted to break up double plays. On that I have given as well as have taken, I have never gone in easy to second if I thought the play might be close.

Another situation was when Tony Conigliaro of the Red Sox was hit on the cheek by a pitch from Angles pitcher Jack Hamilton at Fenway Park on August 18^th 1967. He suffered a linear fracture of the left cheekbone and a dislocated jaw with severe damage to his left retina. He made a comeback the following year but was not the same. He played with the California Angels in 1971 in 74 games and 21 games with the Red Sox in 1975.

If player is beaned by one team, or there are several pitches that either hit batters or come close the opposing team might retaliate by going after the other teams better hitters. There is now a pretty good debate going on about this and if things are getting out of control. After having a lot of his players hit by pitches White Sox Manager Ozzie Guillen warned opponents that if they hit more of his players that he would have his pitchers retaliate saying “If I see somebody hitting my players and I know it’s on purpose, two guys are going down. I don’t care if I get suspended, I don’t care.” Some were taken aback, but I can understand a manager protecting his players and even rallying them with such words.

Occasionally a catcher will get caught by a bat when a hitter swings. I got caught by one of these in baseball and one in softball. Thankfully both were glancing blows as at that time catchers only had face masks and not protective headgear. I was crowding the batter in both instances and was caught on the wrap around after the batter swung and missed at a pitch. A clean hit might have actually knocked some sense into me. Thankfully the Deity Herself was looking out for me and probably used all of these events to further warp my brain. One day, schedule, Judy and the Deity permitting I will get back into an old guys baseball or softball league. God help us all.

Peace,

Steve+

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Tagged as 1970 all star game, arizona diamondbacks, Baseball, bean balls, boston red sox, California Angels, chicago white sox, david wright, fernando cabrera, hiroki kuroda, hit by pitch, ian kinsler, las angeles dodgers, matt cain, new york mets, norfolk tides, ozzie guillen, Pete Rose, ray fosse, rusty ryal, san fransisco giants, texas rangers, tony conigliaro

July 13, 2009 · 21:10

A Trip to the Home World, Tithing on the Speed Limit, a Tooth Joins the Ranks of the Undead and a Giant No Hitter

Yesterday we made a trip back to my family’s home world, also known as Huntington West Virginia. As far as home worlds go it is probably on no one’s top ten lists, probably ranking about as high as Qo’noS, the Klingon home world in terms of places that you would go to on holiday. However it is my family’s ancestral home for the past 200 plus years since coming from Scotland, Ireland and France. Now I was not born in West Virginia, though my parents were born there as were three of my four grandparents. I was actually the first of my generation born outside of the state as my dad was still in the beginning stages of his Navy career and was stationed at Naval Air Station Alameda California and I was born at Oak Knoll Naval Hospital in California. Even so Huntington was a place that served as a touchstone for our lives as my dad was transferred from one place to another on the west coast. We would return almost every summer, usually travelling by train in the days before Amtrack. Back then three of four grandparents as well as one set of great grandparents we still alive along with a butt-load of aunts, uncles and cousins. In 4^th grade we lived there while my dad found us suitable housing in Long Beach California after being transferred from Washington State. That was the year of three schools and four teachers for me, but I digress.

It was during that year that my great grandfather died and my grandfather was diagnosed with a golf ball sized yet benign brain tumor. It was also the adjustment form the kinder and gentler west coast schools to a much stricter standard in Huntington. I was also as we had come in from Long Beach I was nicknamed “City Slicker” and had to fight for my life. A couple of school yard brawls later which I cannot say that I won but in which I gave good account of myself I was accepted so far as a “City Slicker” could be. The thing was though that I had lived in a town of only about 8,000 inhabitants for 4 years prior to moving to Long beach for just over a month. The kids in Huntington were far more “City Slicker” than little old me. I had poor penmanship because in Kindergarten my teacher took the pencil out of my left hand and stuck it in my right hand. This was of no comfort when my teacher whacked my hand with a steel ruler since my penmanship was so bad. What good this did I have no idea except to maybe set me back two more years. I don’t think I ever left the dining room table due to the amount of homework that she assigned. During my time in Huntington we lived across from the old Fairfield Stadium where the Marshall University football team played. I saw the team work out in the spring practices of 1970, the same team killed in the plane crash on 14 November of that year. We returned to Long Beach that summer where when I started 5^th grade I was known as “Kentucky Fried.” Despite that I was happy to get back out west. After my Clinical Pastoral Care Education Residency in Dallas I got my first full time hospital chaplain job at Cabell-Huntington Hospital which I held as a full time contractor until I was mobilized for the Bosnia mission in 1996. During this time and while I was deployed Judy got to know my relatives better than me. I went into the Navy in West Virginia and due to this we remain West Virginia residents for Tax and Voting purposes. We came back to get our driver’s licenses renewed and see our dear friend Patty.

The visit this time has been pretty miserable for me as last night the tooth which was recently excavated for the second time as discovered to be cracked beyond repair decided to come back from the dead. I didn’t get to sleep until about 0230 and woke up again at 0415 before getting back to sleep at 0600. The alarm rank at 0700 and after getting Judy up, we talked and I went back to bed where I slept until 1230. It took 2 Ultram, 1 800 mg Motrin and a couple of beers with lunch to get the pain under control. Tonight I will probably do the same and go to bed early. In the morning I will have to call the Dental Department at the hospital to see what they want me to do. We don’t travel back until Wednesday and I don’t know if I can take much more of this. It seems to me that my tooth has taken a page from Dracula and joined the ranks of the undead. This really sucks like a Hoover.

The trip here was long, we had the usual snarl on I-64 from Newport News until past Williamsburg, and thankfully the HRBT was not congested. We picked up more slow traffic between Staunton and Lexington. Now I am bothered by people who drive slower than the posted speed limit in the fast lane. I trained on the Los Angeles Freeways and the German Autobahn. My view is that the speed limit is a suggestion for the less skilled drivers and those who have trained on high speed roads should be exempt from it. Now I am not a total scofflaw. I do not drive unsafely, weave in and out of traffic or fail to signal. Likewise I know about how fast I can go without drawing the attention of the State Police. Since radar detectors are illegal in Virginia one has to become very adept at this cat and mouse game and I am amazed at the number of people who get pulled over because they don’t understand the simple art of nuance. In most states you can safely drive about 10 percent over the speed limit on the Interstate without getting ticketed. This is a little different on the major travel holidays in Virginia where there is about a 5 mph tolerance. I do this routinely and refer to it as “tithing” on the speed limit. Of course there are times that I need to give more than my tithe and go a bit faster. Our GPS “Lilith” has a conscious about such things and would alarm when I did this forcing me to silence her.

There was also cause for rejoicing as the first half of the baseball season came to an end. The Norfolk Tides are tied for fist in the International League South, the San Francisco Giants have surprised everyone by playing great ball with solid pitching and now are in second place in the National League West and currently have the 3^rd best record in the league behind the Evil Dodgers and one percentage point behind the East leading Phillies. To really make things great Giants pitcher Jonathan Sanchez pitched a no-hitter against the San Diego Padres. It was almost a perfect game save for a booted ground ball and error by Giants Third Baseman Juan Uribe with 1 out in the bottom of the 8^thand Center Fielder Aaron Rowland saved the no-hitter with a leaping catch at the wall for the second out in the top of the ninth. Both of these show that even when a pitcher pitches a no-hitter it is a team effort. I had seen the next to last Giant no-hitter in person with my dad and brother back on August 24th 1975 when Ed Halicki shut down the New York Mets at Candlestick. Not a bad way for the Giants to go into the All-Star break.

Anyway it is time to self medicate for the night and try to get some sleep. Pray for me a sinner.

Peace, Steve

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Tagged as aaron rowland, alameda naval air station, autobahns, Baseball, candlestick park, clinical pastoral education, cpe residency, dodgers, ed halicki, errors, france, gps, hrbt, huntington wv, i-64, international league, ireland, jonathan sanchez, juan uribe, klingon home world, long beach ca, los angeles, marshall universit football plane crash, marshall university, motrin, national league, navy, new york mets, norfolk tides, oak harbor wa, oak knoll naval hospital, oakland ca, parkland memorial hospital, philadelphia phillies, Qo'noS, radar detectors, root canal, san fransisco giants, scotland, tooth aches, ultram, we are marshall, west virginia

July 12, 2009 · 23:59

Going to War: Wills, Living Wills, Immunizations Gone Bad and Christmas in July

This is part three in my “Going to War” series. Previous parts are noted here:

Part One:Going to War: Reflections on My Journey to Iraq and Back- Part One

Past Two: Going to War: Interlude July 4th 2007

One of the sobering things as you get ready to go to war is issues that deal with your possible dismemberment, disability or yes even your death. In the month or so before going to Iraq Judy had me take out an additional life insurance policy that doubled what the military would provide in the event of my demise. Part of our processing to go to combat was a will and power of attorney update. We had not updated our wills since well before coming to the Hampton Roads area so I took advantage of this time to get it done. The will itself was pretty easy since we have no children and have not been married to anyone else. That was the easy part. The next part was dealing with power of attorney. We did a couple of them, a General for most stuff and a couple of specific POAs for various things. I also had to do a medical power of attorney. The medical power of attorney is something that I routinely deal with at the hospital. I have dealt with them before in other places. At the same time they become somewhat disconcerting when you are getting to go into a combat zone where there is heavy fighting going on and that you know that you will be in places that the enemy likes to attack and by the way, you are as a chaplain unarmed.

When doing a Medical Power of Attorney I am always reminded of the episode of Seinfeld where Kramer sees part of a movie called The Other Side of Darkness which supposedly is about a lady who ends up in a coma. Since Kramer doesn’t want to be in a coma he makes his own Power of Attorney for Jerry to be his representative. Jerry refuses and Kramer gets Elaine to go to a lawyer played by Ben Stein to get his “living will” done. Without going into too much detail the interview with the Ben Stein is funny as hell as in his monotone voice he asks Kramer what he would want to do if….and Kramer turns to Elaine and asks “what should I do?” Of course after Kramer makes this out he sees the rest of the movie only to find out that the lady in the coma comes out of it.

I digress, but anyway sometimes when you fill one of these out you pray that you get it right so no one offs you before your time, but also so you don’t end up like Karen Anne Quinlan or Terri Shaivo. All I could think of when doing this was me being so badly wounded that people were telling Judy that there was only a fifty- fifty chance of me living but only a ten percent chance of that and did she want to pull the plug. While this is going on I could just see me unable to respond trying to say “give me one more at bat skip, just one more chance…please.” This may not seem like the most spiritual thing for a Priest to be saying but I don’t want to be with Jesus or in Purgatory before my time.

Legal matters finished we had matters of health and preventive medicine to accomplish. As always when you deploy the military ensures that you are vaccinated against about everything imaginable including typhoid, anthrax, smallpox, malaria, yellow fever, certain regional diseases and probably some that I have forgotten. Many I had received at different times, including my first Anthrax vaccine which I injection was done into my muscle. This time the corpsmen given the shot did it sub-cutaneous which means just below the skin. Well something happened and the little reaction area became a big one that night. My bicep felt like someone had shoved a baseball in it and the sucker hurt like hell. By the next morning I knew that my reaction was not “normal” being that the first one I had did not do this. I thought back to the Anthrax scare right after September 11^th 2001 and I didn’t want to take any chances regarding something that the media said could be dangerous. Who knows, what if they had messed up and given me a bad batch or even a weaponized form of the vaccine. Hell, just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean that they are not out to get me. If I was going to die for my country I didn’t want it to be from a reaction to a vaccine and not something heroic that would actually matter to someone and maybe even get a ship named after me. So I went back to the immunization section, excusing my way past the queue of sailors waiting to get PPD’s read I went to the desk. I figured that I wasn’t going to wait in line behind people with routine stuff when things looked like they were getting sporty for me. It’s called triage. The Corpsman at the desk was polite and asked what he could do. I told him that “I think I’m having a reaction to the Anthrax vaccine.” He gave me a funny look and asked whoch one in the series this shot was. It was the second and I said. “This didn’t happen the first time.” He told e to show him my arm and then with a look of surprise on his face said: “Obviously sir the first time you had no antibodies to Anthrax so it had nothing to react to….” I was thinking “no shit Sherlock” when the young man went to get his Chief. The Chief came in, looked at my arm and said: “Gee sir it looks like you are having a reaction to the shot.” Wow, he could have floored me with that bit of news. So he took me back to his office and started having me checked to make sure that I didn’t have a fever or a number of other things, like if I was dizzy or was having trouble breathing. No I was neither dizzy nor experiencing breathing difficulties but was simply in pain, a bit scared and a lot pissed. After his battery of questions and the phone calls asked me “do you think that you are safe to drive?” At that point I would have said anything to get the hell out of there and get on with what I needed to do to make sure that I wasn’t going to die. So I said “of course I am.” He asked if I was sure and I reaffirmed this to him in a convincing enough manner for him to send me over to Portsmouth. Now Portsmouth Naval Medical has a small office manned by a couple of nurses whose job it is to report bad vaccine reactions up to the FDA and God only knows who else. These ladies were very pleasant and when they got a look at my arm they were impressed. Once again I heard Yes sir you are having a reaction.” Once and I got another battery of questions and they took a couple of pictures of the baseball sized knot on my left bicep. Another couple of phone calls later I was told that I would be okay. I was told by the ladies that he next shot of the series would have to go into the muscle as this batch had encapsulated itself in my arm instead of going to the rest of my body. I was then told to take some Motrin for the pain and swelling and do a lot of push-ups, pull-ups and massage to help the area dissipate faster. My fears eased and I left the hospital and reported back to the processing site where all of my fellow sailors had already left for the day.

Another tense and sleepless night was spent with Judy and I with the emotional distance still there. We talked about various things but nothing serious as I don’t think that either of us was able to vocalize well what we were feeling. Even Molly seemed differed, I’m sure that she sensed that something was going on as I had continued to pack and re-pack my gear from EOD. Molly does not like it when either of us pack as it usually means that one or both of us is leaving her employee for a time, we being the well treated and loved hired help. So the next morning I repeated my “Groundhog Day” trek back to Norfolk Naval Station fighting the idiots driving to work on the I-264, I-64 and I-564 battle zone where matching wits with the witless I safely picked my way through traffic while drinking my black coffee.

Arriving for our next to last day of processing we checked and re-checked paperwork, received our signed wills, living wills and powers of attorney. That morning I met with Father Pat Finn a mobilized reservist and Episcopal Priest from South Carolina and we had a nice chat where we were joined by Fr Steve Powers retired Navy Chaplain and Rector of St. Brides Episcopal Church in Chesapeake. Following that I was asked to assist with a sailor who was having some personal difficulties getting ready for the deployment. These tasks completed I went back to muster with the others and sat down next to Nelson my ever faithful assistant and body guard extraordinaire. We were then told that we would collect the gear that we were being issued. We gathered outside where we lined up and were given a sea bag in which to put our issue. There were boxes of stuff everywhere and a couple of civilians and sailors stood by to ensure that we got what we were going to get. Uniforms with all of our name tapes rank insignia and qualification pins sewn on as well as more socks, t-shirts and other assorted gear. Our stash was a bit lighter than the others as we already had much of what was being issued and did not need the issue boots having already been issued non-issue boots courtesy of EOD. When this was done and we were released I told Nelson to go home as his family was coming into town from New York. Taking the newly issued gear home I again went to packing and repacking and took Judy out to dinner after which we spent our time alone together pondering the future.

Peace, Steve+

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Filed under healthcare, iraq,afghanistan, Military, Tour in Iraq

Tagged as anthrax vaccine, Baseball, ben stein, coma, deployment, elaine benes, eod, hospital corpsmen, immunizations, iraq, jerry seinfeld, karen anne quinlan, kramer, living wills, naval mobilization processing site, navy chaplain, norfolk naval station, portsmouth naval medical center, powers of attorney, seinfeld, september 11th 2001, st brides episcopal church, terri shaivo, weaponized anthrax, wills

July 8, 2009 · 20:45

Sometimes You Wanna go Where Everybody Knows Your Name

The hit long running comedy Cheers set in Boston Bar is something that I have grown to appreciate more and more throughout the years. It comes from the community of disparate people who find refuge in that bar each with their own lives and stories which all intersect at Cheers. The lyrics to the theme song from the show sum up where I sometimes find myself in life, especially coming back from Iraq.

Making your way in the world today takes everything you’ve got.
Taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot.

Wouldn’t you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name,
and they’re always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows
Your name.

You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,
You wanna go where everybody knows
your name.

The last verse to the song “Where Everybody knows Your Name” never aired on the show and continue….

Be glad there’s one place in the world
Where everybody knows your name,
And they’re always glad you came;
You want to go where people know,
People are all the same;
You want to go where everybody knows your name.

The need for community is something that I didn’t think that I really needed for most of my life. It took a huge amount of time isolated in the military as well as coming back from Iraq with a nice case of PTSD to realize that I could not exist without some kind of local connection. This is something that when I returned from Iraq I knew that I did not have. For a good amount of time this didn’t matter because I was always on the road or deployed. It is easy to cover up the need for local relationships and community when you aren’t around.

For me this isolation really began when we moved to the Hampton Roads area back in 2003. I was assigned to a command where I was on the road a lot. However I sought to make build relationships with the local mission of my church in our area as well as other local clergy. After a clash with the local idiot masquerading as a priest I was forbidden by the bishop to have any contact with any of his priests or parishes. I guess since that bishop didn’t get my tithe that I didn’t matter. A couple of years later both the bishop and the idiot priest had left our church for happier hunting grounds. So when I came back from Iraq in 2008 I was isolated. I had transferred in October 2006 from a Marine Command where I felt absolutely comfortable to a different command where I was new and about everyone else was going about 95 different directions. The command chaplain who I had come on board under in the larger command had transferred during my deployment, while the one officer that I had developed a relationship with at my new command was deployed a couple of months after me. When I returned from Iraq even my office had been packed up and I had no-where to work from for over a month. My belongings, including many military mementos and awards were crammed into a trailer and it took almost a year to find the majority of them. A couple of items were not recovered. So on the military side I was pretty isolated and feeling pretty down. As I said I had no church ties from my denomination anywhere near me and had not, due to my own pathology and hectic travel and deployment schedule did not establish a relationship with another church until this year. Other friends had transferred over the years and I had one other chaplain in the area that I can call a friend. We have known each other since 1999 and our wives are best friends. Apart from that I was about as isolated and alone as I could get. It was then with my PTSD kicking my ass that I knew after all these years that I needed to be in community and in relationships with people locally. It was no longer good enough to simply check in with guys that I had known for years but who lived far away.

It took a while to get from knowing that I needed something until I was able to get established in a number of places and begin to build my local ties. The first two places were Harbor Park where I see the Norfolk Tides play and the local Gordon Biersch Brewery Restaurant. Harbor Park was something that I went to before Iraq as I love baseball. I was no stranger there, I’ve been around long enough to get to know staff, vendors and ushers and have met the General Manager Dave Rosenfield on a good number of occasions as he walks the concourse among the Harbor Park faithful. However something happened when I came back from Iraq. In most places I could not handle crowds, even going to church at the fairly large Catholic Church where I occasionally attend with Judy who is a member there. It is large and rather busy and since I only know a few people there I get a bit anxious, even though I love the Pastor, Deacons and the few people that I know. However every time I would step onto the concourse at Harbor Park and the lush green field came into view I could feel stress and anxiety leaving my body. Somehow almost magically I am at peace when at a ball game. I felt the same thing even in crowded Major League Parks at San Diego and San Francisco when I made trips to the west coast. When the season ended last year it was terribly difficult as the PTSD and Anxiety, nightmares and chronic pain were still raging. When this season came around and with Harbor Park now on my way home from work I knew that I needed to get a season ticket. I cleared with Judy and for the first time in my life I had a season ticket. Since the season began in April the Park has become more of a place of refuge and place of fellowship with some great people. Seeing Elliott the Usher, Ray and John the Vietnam Vets at the Beer Stand behind the plate, Kenny the Pretzel Guy, Skip the Usher in the section above me, Mandy up in the Tides Store my next seat over neighbor Barry, Barry’s daughter Julie, Tina and her husband, the Judge and others has given me a sense of community that is like a comfortable pub.

The same has been true at the Gordon Biersch Brewery Restaurant has become another place where I feel at home. I think this began with Kira, the choir child from Judy’s Church as well as guys like Mike, John and girls like Kai Ly who been incedible. We began by being frequenters of the dining room but have over the past several months moved to the bar as it is a bit more laid back and we get to know more people. Now the noise can occasionally be a bit much, but the kids who work there are really great to be around. I was just recently inducted into the Stein Club. Both Harbor Park and Biersch were important because even though the people that I met were those in the intersection they were places and people that began to get me back in touch with community.

Another really key part of building community for me is my work at Portsmouth Naval Medical Center. Somehow I am at home in the surreal environment of the ICU and PICU and the great folks who work on those floors. On call I am beginning to feel the same way about our NICU. The relationships formed in these areas as well as with my fellow chaplains have become especially important. My boss and some of our other chaplains have really helped me through some really rough times since I got here as I have dealt with the PTSD and other issues from Iraq. As I have made the adjustment to being back in the hospital setting I realized just how much I enjoyed the challenge of Critical Care chaplaincy, the care for patients, families and especially the staff and residents. I am at home here.

The final piece fell into place a few months ago, that was beginning to worship at St James Episcopal Church in Portsmouth. I had met the Rector (Pastor) of the Parish, Fr John at the hospital as he visited two of his parishioners who were patients in my ICU. We not only met but we became friends and he invited me to St James. Now Fr John is from Nigeria and the parish is predominantly African American, West Indies or Nigerian. The church reminds me a lot of East Side Presbyterian Church in Stockton CA which I attended with Judy. The liturgy while Episcopal is punctuated with familiar hymns and Old Negro Spirituals. The Church itself was founded in the 1890s as a place for African American Episcopalians to worship, Jim Crow being quite strong in those days. When I first went there I wondered about the wisdom of it but I knew that I needed a place to worship outside my little guestroom altar. I didn’t know what to expect, but the folks at St James love worship, music and have enfolded me, a Priest from a different communion into their community and for the first time since I came in the Navy, and certainly since I came back from Iraq I feel a sense of connection with a local parish. One thing that I believe is quite significant is that prior to the Civil War my familyowned slaves in what was then the western part of Virginia. I even met a man from Liberia who has my last name. His family went from the United States, to Canada, back to the UK and then on to Liberia before his family came back to the United States. His brother even serves in the US Navy. I’m sure at one point Cecil Dundas’s ancestors once were owned by some part of my family in Virginia. But we are both of the Dundas family and I think that is pretty cool. Small world.

I don’t necessarily think that I am alone in the search for community. I think for a lot of people they would want to find such a community in church, but from what I am seeing across the denominational spectrum and the move to large churches or mega-churches I am seeing more lonely people who attend church regularly but never feel a sense of family or community. Some of the things I hear from these lonely and disconnected Christians remind me of the lyrics to Abba’s hit Super Trouper:

Facing twenty thousand of your friends
How can anyone be so lonely
Part of a success that never ends
Still I’m thinking about you only

Part of this I think is that many churches have places more value on “Church growth” and programs than they have on people. There has been a shift, especially in larger churches to proliferate programs which take up a lot of time, but don’t foster relationships. Often the senior pastor is unreachable and untouchable in large churches. Someone may get contact with a staff pastor, but often this is even driven down to minimally trained small group or home group leaders. The churches themselves are so large it takes a long time for a new person to get to know anyone. Now large church can do a lot of good, but I do think what they lack is intimacy. Some home groups have this but others are train wrecks full of pretty bad juju. So I wonder if this is a part of the isolation and disconnection of people. Just a thought….

It has take me about five years to get connected in this area. The cool thing now is that there are a number of places where I can go where just about everybody knows my name. Slowly but surely I’m getting better as I get more connected. I now have the beginnings of a community which is rich and diverse, military and civilian and have the blessing of friendship with so many people that that make up the communities of which I have become part. The Deity has a wry sense of humor to take this introverted rugged individualist to put me into community with such a great bunch of people. She had to about throw me under the bus to do it, but I am glad that she did.

Peace, Steve+

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Tagged as Baseball, black episcopalians, bosnia operation, cheers, civil war, community, gordon biersch, hampton roads, harbor park, icu, iraq, norfolk tides, picu, PTSD, slavery, st james episcpal church, where everybody knows your name

June 17, 2009 · 23:16

A Weird Day, a Great Team and Some Fractured History

Today was one of those weird days for me, very busy, pretty good work and good intellectual stimulation n an ethics committee meeting. I’m also still pretty tired from the past few weeks, not feeling bad but I know that I need to pace myself while we are short staffed in our department this summer. It is a good thing that I have the boss that I have as he is making sure that I am okay on a pretty regular basis. He knows that I will push myself hard until I hit the wall, which I did about a week and a half ago. The thing is it is not just me that is feeling the strain. All of us on our staff have been pushed hard caring for folks during the recent deaths of two military staff members, regular work on our wards, administrative tasks as well as the extra load imposed by being short staffed. But this is what we do as chaplains. The good thing is that we are doing our best not just to look after our flock, but to look after each other. We have a great team which I am proud to be a part.

Thus today my mind was a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives. In fact it was awash in so much that I should have written them down. The mind is like a sieve sometimes. Since it is late I am going to stick with a few observations from this day in history which seems to still have significance today June 17th.

On this day in 1579 Sir Francis Drake sailed his ship the Golden Hind into San Francisco Bay. Immediately he was picketed by anti-imperialist and environmentalist protesters who had come down from Haight Ashbury in their Birkenstocks. Ignoring them Drake’s crew hit on women and some men in Golden Gate Park, had lunch at Fisherman’s Wharf and took in a Giants game. At least that’s what they wanted to do, but they were 400 years or so too early. Instead they sat around wondering why it was so cold in the middle of summer as they repaired their ships, had the chaplain celebrate Eucharist and then claimed everything in sight for England calling it New Albion. The Spanish realtors in the area took umbrage to this and never recognized the claim.

On this day in 1775 was fought the battle of Bunker Hill or more appropriately Breed’s Hill. The American soldiers defending the hill gave a good account of themselves against the British who were trying to drive them off of the hill. An American commander on the front line uttered the cry which did not become in military history “Don’t fire until you can smell the Redcoat bastards.” The insensitivity of the comment regarding the Colonial’s British Cousins body odor, which wafted over the battlefield, offended some of in the snior commanders who had a hard time smelling the gunpowder over their own body odor. When the Pentagon heard about it the offending officer was sent to Ft Polk Louisiana and the utterance was officially changed to “Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes.” After the clash the surviving unwounded opponents gathered at Sam Adams pub where they consumed vast amounts of his original Boston Lager beer as they played darts and argued the merits of English versus American Football. Some went to the Yankees Red Sox game at Fenway later in the evening.

On this day in 1815 Commodore Stephen Decatur commanding a Task force from the 6th Feet conquered the Algerian frigate Mashouda in an action that finally helped bring an end to the Barbary Wars and drove the Barbary Pirates from the Mediterranean. Within 48 hours of defeating the Mashouda he was in Algiers harbor exacting peace on the Dey of Algiers. This ended the period of where Barabry Pirates excercised domain over the Mediterranean. Getting with British sailors on liberty in town with which they had recently been at war, the Americans and Brits spent the evenings at Murphy’s Irish pub drinking Guinness and Kilkenney with Irish and other expats while watching Arsenal play Bayern München on pay per view.

On this day in 1856 Republican Party opened its 1st national convention in Philadelphia. Immediately Randall Terry demanded equal time to speakers demanding the end of slavery while Ron Paul was ignored. Others lobbied for the Flat Tax until they discovered that there was not yet an income tax. Up and coming Illinois legislator Abraham Lincoln gave the keynote address recommending a bigger Federal role in solving disputes between states while Newt Gingrich presented a “Contract with the Union” to deal with the various tensions. Fox News covered the event

On this day in 1916 US troops under General John Pershing marched into Mexico to bring Pancho Villa and others into custody. The expedition was not successful as many troops were inflicted with Montazuma’s revenge while KBR failed to get the porta-poties in place in a timely manner. The Easern European sub-contractor walked out and KBR replaced them with men from the Indian Subcontinent area who had each paid $4000 to an agent for the job and recived $300 a month working 16 hour days 6 days a week. However the campaign did give US troops experience operating in harsh climates which would serve them well when stationed in Texas over the next century. General Phil Sheridan had once said of Texas that “If I owned Hell and Texas I would live in Hell and rent out Texas.”

On this day in 1938 after conducting military operations against the Chinese for over 5 years the Japanese declared war on China. Chinese leaders Chaing Kai Shek and Mao Tse Tung issued a joint statement agreeing to work together and declaring “It’s about damned time they admitted that they are at war with us.”

On this day in 1940 the French after having their asses handed to them by the Germans yet again asked for surrender terms. General Charles DeGaulle immediately departed for England to continue the war against both the Germans and his fellow Frenchmen. Upon his arrival DeGaulle immediately complained about the bad food, plain women and miserable weather. He was embraced by Winston Churchill who got him drunk, left him passed out in a brothel and blamed the Vichy government for it. Churchill wrote afterward, “that man is a pain in the ass.” DeGaulle always doubted Churchill’s version of events every time he looked at the tatoo of a German tank on his ass.

On this day in 1944 Iceland declared independence from Denmark. No one noticed until 1953.

Most importantly on this day in 1960 Ted Williams hit his 500^th home run. and today the Nationals beat the Yankees and the Orioles beat the Mets.

Peace, Steve+

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Tagged as abraham lincoln, arsenal football, baltimore Orioles, Baseball, battle of bunker hill, battle of france 1940, bayern Munchen, cahing kai shek, chaplain corps, charles degualle, dey of algiers, don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes, fisherman's warf, general john pershing, general phil sheridan, golden gate park, golden hind, guinness stout, haight ashbury, iceland independence, japanese declaration of war with china, kilkenney beer, mao tse tung, mexico, new albion, new york mets, new york yankees, pancho villa, randall terry, republican party, ron paul, samuel adams, san fransisco bay, san fransisco giants, second barabry war, sir francis drake, stephen decatur, ted williams, texas, washington nationals, winston churchill

June 15, 2009 · 22:18

The Art of Balance, Baseball and living as a Passionate Moderate

I subscribe to the philosophy that balance is essential in life. This is probably because my kindergarten teacher took the pencil from my lf and made me write with my right hand which I believe made me amphibious. I think that is one reason that God speaks to me through baseball. It’s kind of like those mythical Chinese kids, Yin and Yang, who as I understand whose properties were fused by the Deity Herself into the perfect form of a baseball several millennia ago becoming the symbol of perfect balance in the world. In baseball there is a certain balance and symmetry that transcends sports played on rectangular fields. Baseball is the one team sport where no fat lady gets to sing before the last out, unless of course she is singing God Bless America during the 7^th Inning Stretch. Time in baseball is measured in multiples of three: Three Strikes to an out, three outs in an inning, and nine innings of three outs each. Likewise there are 90 feet between each base and 60 feet six inches between the pitcher’s rubber and home plate, again, multiples of three. There are 108 stitches in a baseball, again a multiple of three. Since we in the Christian Church understand God as a Trinity in Unity, One God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, it is apparent to me that baseball, being a game made up of “threes” is something that flows from God to us. As George Will once said “Baseball is Heaven’s gift to mortals.”

This is why I am a moderate which to me an integral part of balance. Moderation to the chagrin of many actually takes work, hard work. Moderates are often mischaracterized, maligned or derided by people who don’t understand the difference between a principled moderate and waffling follower. I don’t believe that lazy and unimaginative people who can’t make up their minds about which cola is better, much less examine a serious issue can be truly described as moderates. They may be wishy-washy but they are not true moderates. People who take a position so strongly that they can only see their particular view as the only way, be it political, social or religious often cannot understand a true moderate and because moderates don’t fit in their dualistic world view have to malign them. Unfortunately moderates tend to have big targets on them which draw the fire of extremists on any side of an issue. Moderates are often compared the Biblical church of Laodicea which the Lord says he will spew out of his mouth like a cheap beer. I once heard a fiery preacher in Texas say that the only thing defining a moderate was “the tire track down his back as he was run over by people who really believed in something.” Rush Limbaugh and others on the right treat moderates like traitors, and Limbaugh’s left wing counterparts pretty much see moderates in the same way. It is much like the way conservative Catholics and Protestant Fundamentalists view the via media or middle way of Anglicanism. Moderation does not go over well with people who live in a dualistic, black and white world. Moderation is like baseball where there is no replay for a called third strike, where umpires can make a bad call and where decisions can go either way. Football and other sports which depend on replays when a call is controversial seek to evade a key part of the human condition, they have removed as much as possible the judgment call and the gray area and unwittingly played into the dualism.

My understanding of being a moderate however is far from being wishy-washy spit coming from the mouth of God….oops, splurt. I believe that real moderates seek truth, and far from being wishy-washy or milquetoasty are pretty tenacious, diplomatic and able to see the finer points of argument and debate. Moderates occupy the crucial center ground on which the safety and stability of nations, governemnts and churches depend. As such true moderates must be principled and passionate in both seeking and defending truth. They also must be willing to defend themselves from both the left and the right. This is not simply pragmatism, though moderates tend to be pragmatic, it is necessity. Likewise true moderates are passionate about life and truth, there is no waffling, as a moderate though moderates know that thye don’t have all the answers, and that somethimes there are no answers. Thus for me I am according to my website title a “passionate moderate.” This is far from being an oxymoron, or for that matter any kind of moron. Being a passionate moderate entails holding a tension between opposing points of view, its the synergy of old Yin and Yang. Passionate moderates have to be able to engage anyone in meaningful dialogue from both the right and the left. Passionate moderates also must be able to confront individuals or groups which have moved to extremist positions that are ultimately detrimental to them and others. Being a moderate does not mean being a wimp, milquetoast or wishy-washy. It means having the courage of conviction to pursue truth and do what is right even if it deviates from a political, religious or ideological point s of view which believes it to be the only correct reflection of what is good right and holy in the world.

Thus there is a wide gap between real moderates and lazy people who can’t make a decision to fart towards their left or right buttocks much less to take a position that may be contrary to those comfortably and immutably ensconced in their ideological, religious or political beliefs. Passionate moderates are the center which must hold in order for a pluralistic and multicultural society to survive political, military or economic crisis; natural disaster or other catastrophes such as the Leisure Suits, Disco, Chevy Chevettes, Ford Pintos, the Purpose Driven Church, artificial turf and multi-purpose stadiums which house baseball teams.

Moderation, like baseball takes both patience and balance and is not for the faint of heart. Being a moderate means that you assume, like baseball that every pitch is a new game. With each pitch there is a different situation with numerous, if not infinite possibilities. A true moderate looks to the future and uses the past as a guide, not a place to remain. Christian moderation involves holding to the truth of the Scriptures, the Tradition of the Faith and to Reason as a basis of moving forward in the grace, mercy and peace of God. This requires balance, patience and fortitude, because the task is not easy. It is like those mythical Chinese kids Yin and Yang who were fused into the perfect sphere which became the prototypical baseball; everything in balance.

Peace, Steve+

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Tagged as 7th inning stretch, anglicanism, artificial turf, balance, Baseball, catholics, chevette, christian faith, disco, fat lady sings, football replays, ford pinto, george will, god bless america, laodicea, liesure suits, moderation, protestant fundamentalists, purpose driven church, scripture reason tradition, the trinity, yin and yang

June 14, 2009 · 22:51

Benjamin Sisko, Star Trek Deep Space Nine and the Less than Sexy Command of Military Bases

Note: I write this after Judy and I did something that we never normally do…no not that, whatever that is in your dirty minds. For us this was to watch a movie in a theater a second time. We did this tonight. We went and saw the Star Trek movie again and enjoyed it as much as the first time. As I thought about us seeing it this afternoon I was writing on another topic, but it was much too involved for my brain at this moment in time. So I saved it and went back to Star Trek. This is the first in a series about Star Trek Captains and deals with the only Captain on a Star Trek series who is not Captain of a Star Ship, but rather a Star Base. In this case, Captain Benjamin Sisko of Deep Space Nine. In some ways I dedicate this to those fine officers who do not get the commands at sea, or if they are in the Army or Marines those who command bases or garrisons rather than maneuver units. I dedicate this particular post to Colonel Tom Allmon, US Army Retired who I served with at Fort Indiantown Gap Pennsylvania and who later commanded Fort Meyer Virginia. This will be a first of a series that will appear periodically dealing with characters from the various Star Trek series and films and work them into what commanders and staff officers in the U.S. Military deal with on a daily basis.

“There is more to baseball than physical strength. It’s, uh… it’s about courage; and it’s also about faith; and it is also about heart. And if there’s one thing our Vulcan friends lack, it’s heart.” Captain Benjamin Sisko

Sisko being thrown from the game against the Vulcan Logicians

Star Trek Commanding Officers are interesting to compare and contrast and usually have a lot to do with how each Star Trek series was received. I know a lot of people who like Captain Kirk over Captain Picard or Picard over Kirk. There are those who prefer Kathryn Janeway to any of the men. Of course all of these were the Captains of Federation starships. Like any naval service it is the Captains of warships that have the “sexy” jobs. Commanding officers of service vessels, auxiliaries or bases tend not to be the commanders who are being groomed for Flag rank. The newer and more powerful the vessel is, the more likely that the skipper is being groomed for a higher level command. This is true in any Navy and is certainly true in the world of Star Trek. Thus we have the unusual situation for a us to deal with and perhaps the reason that some people do not care for Deep Space Nine as much as for the series involving Starships as the setting for the show. Captain Benjamin Sisko of Deep Space Nine doesn’t command a ship. In fact he is the survivor of the USS Saratoga, a ship lost when the Federation fleet was decimated by the Borg at Wolf 359 in which his wife is killed in action.

Having served at sea and ashore I can say that the divide between commanders of warships and those of bases is deep. This is not a pejorative statement at all, but a recognition that the services tend to weigh command of a warship higher than that of a base. Both situations require men and women of certain temperament and ability. Good commanders can function and adapt anywhere but may because of the needs of the service find themselves in assignments that are less glamorous and maybe even less desirable from a career point of view. Such is the case with Benjamin Sisko. He is sent to an important but remote base with a small Federation staff off the planet Bejor which recently gained its independence from the Cardassian Empire. The space station had previously been a Cardassian station.

Sisko’s assignment like that of any overseas base commander is an interesting weave of station commander, quasi-ambassador to the Bejoran government, small town mayor and overseer of security in the sector which becomes much more important with the discovery of a “worm hole” in space nearby. In the process he must deal with the ever present Cardassians who through Gul Dukat the former station commander continually attempt to re-assert their dominance and authority over both the station a Bajor. As the series moves along he is forced more onto a war footing as a race from a sector of the galaxy connected through the worm hole attempts to invade the sector which Deep Space Nine serves as the outpost and tripwire.

All through this Sisco must deal with a multiplicity of problems, not unlike commanders of US Naval bases in sensitive and potentially volatile regions do on a daily basis today. Sisko must deal with the unique history, culture and religion of the Bajorans. Likewise he has to deal with the divides between moderate and fundamentalists in the Bajoran religion. He also must deal with tensions between the religious Bajorans and Bejoran secularists all the while trying to heal the scars of the Cardassian occupation, physical, physiological and spiritual to the people of Bajor.

As if this were not enough he has a host of potential problems on his station. The station has a strong presence of people who in today’s parlance would be called Third Country Nationals, or TCNs. These individuals and their families run shops, bars and restaurants on the station, sometimes within not quite within the margins of legality, in particular the Bartender Quark and tailor Garak. Captain Sisko deals with all of this in addition to normal issues that any commander would face dealing with his own personnel, operations and logistics functions. While he is the base commander he has a Bajoran as his deputy and Bajoran personnel throughout the station who have to work with Starfleet personnel.

It would similar situation to that faced by US commanders of bases in the Middle East who have to deal with very similar issues today. That is what makes Sisko for me such an interesting character. His job is not the wide ranging, high visibility “sexy” star ship Captain assignment. This as well as the more dark underlying tone of the show makes it more of a mystery. Sisko, who brings with him a love of Jazz, New Orleans cuisine and baseball is an interesting character, if nothing else from my perspective the subject of baseball. He introduces baseball to the station, even forming a team which plays the Vulcans who are surprisingly good ballplayers. It could be that baseball is a game that the analytical Vulcans would find an affinity. Baseball is filled with intricate nuances and statistical probabilities that would numb the mind of a Klingon, who are most likely Football fans, but which are the delight of Vulcans. If the Romulans were to take up the game they would probably play it with a harder edge and more emotion than the Vulcans but would appreciate the logic of the game. Even still Benjamin Sisko and the ever present baseball on his desk are something that I appreciate.

The commanders of bases on the edge of empire that Sisko represents and the complexities of their commands are seldom recognized. Their jobs are not sexy, and most do not get picked to be Flag or General Officers. Those picks generally are reserved for those who command at sea or command maneuver units or if in the Air Force those who command Fighter or Bomber Wings. The men and women who command bases both in the United States and overseas fill an important role. While not glamorous they are the people that tend to be the face of the United States military and government wherever they are stationed. When they do their jobs well they go unnoticed, because what they do is not sexy. At the same time if they screw up it can be damaging for the country if overseas, or for the services if in the United States.

God bless all the Tom Allmon’s and Benjamin Sisko’s who deal with complex situations often in obscurity who through their patience, diplomacy and people skills care for their people, accomplish the mission and balance all within the confines of dealing with local communities and political nuances that most people cannot fathom.

Peace, Steve+

4 Comments

Filed under Baseball, philosophy, Religion, star trek

Tagged as bajorans, Baseball, captain benjamin sisko, captain james t kirk, captain jean luc picard, captain kathryn janeway, cardassian empire, cardassians, cultural differences, deep space nine, ds9, fundamentalists, gul dukat, jazz, mr spock, najor, naval bases, new orleans, romulans, secularists, star tek next generation, star trek, star trek 2009, star trek the orignial series, star trek voyager, vulcans, worm hole

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Benjamin Sisko, Star Trek Deep Space Nine and the Less than Sexy Command of Military Bases

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