Tag Archives: norfolk tides

May 24, 2009 · 16:38

Things that I Don’t Get-Why do Guys take Their Beer into the Ball Park Restroom?

pub2Engaged in deep thought at a pub-wondering about things that I don’t get

Note: This is the first in a series that I will periodically post here called “Things that I Don’t Get.” Most I’m sure will be light hearted takes on issues that are not of earth shaking importance, but are relevant to me.  When discussing the subject presented here with Elliott my usher buddy he made the comment: “I’ve always wondered that but never heard someone ask the question. Maybe that’s a subject for your website.”  So here it goes.  Elliott this one’s for you!

One thing that always amazes me is that no matter how hard I try there are some things that I just can’t figure out.  Sometimes I have to just scratch my shaved head and say: “What the hell? I just don’t get that.”  I mean really….I don’t know if this happens to you but I face the question often enough that I finally I am going to ask it and others that have stumped me in this forum.

I was attending services at the Church of Baseball, Harbor Park Parish last night and it was the largest crowd of the season. This is a good thing, it means the weather is getting better and I probably won’t be freezing my ass off like Monday.  There is a drawback as it meant that concession lines and those in the in the men’s restroom were long.  There was a common theme that connected the two…beer.  Being a lover of good beer of which there is plenty at Harbor Park, I frequently stand in line to get my beer.  I then will take it to my seat or stand and talk with Chip or Elliott the ushers in section 202 and 102 respectively.  My “pew” is section 102, row B seat 2.  Elliott has my section and really knows the game and is a good guy to boot.  Chip is a retired Navy Chief and before I had my season ticket would often sit up in his section.

Last night after the rent on my beer ran out…face it you can only rent beer for a very short time, I decided that it was time to make a head call.  That is latrine for those of the Army persuasion and Spa for those in the Air Force.  Walking up in the middle of the 5th I went to make my visit and raise a glass to Admiral Nelson.  The line of course was long and as I looked around I saw a familiar sight.  A good number of the guys had their beer in one hand and something else in the other as they stood at the urinal.  Some were refueling and defueling at the same time.  Others left their beer on the top of the urinal.  Now I have seen this before many times and I can’t get around the fact that it completely creeps me out.  I cannot see a good reason for this.  All the seats have cup holders which even the largest beer will fit into and if you leave the beer in the holder it is very unlikely that anyone would steal it or drink from it.  Nonetheless a fairly substantial number of guys won’t do the sanitary thing and insist on taking their beer into the restroom.  I asked Elliott about this and he was equally perplexed.

Now I wonder about this.  Why do this if you have a place to keep your beer?  I wonder sometimes if guys who do this should be issued a Foley catheter for the game.  They could have a Foley station where those who need to need to keep drinking while peeing can do so while seated or even when walking around.  At the end of the game they could go back to the station, have the Foley removed and stagger out to their ride.  Of course there is some pain involved with this.  A conscious man will feel a great amount of pain as a Foley is inserted.  I remember working the ER at Parkland when a member of the local football team which calls itself “America’s Team” ended up after a car crash.  He screamed like a baby when the Foley went in.  The Foley is a bit drastic but it would save the rest of us the pain of watching this spectacle in the rest room.  Another and less painful solution would be to have paid rest room attendants as designated beer holders.  These people would stand outside the rest room at a table with neat little slots for beer.  A guy would come to the door, give the attendant his beer, get a numbered token corresponding to the slot that the beer is placed in.  When done he would pick up his beer and go away…sanitation concerns and beer security ensured.

Now I wonder if women do this too, although I don’t imagine so.  In fact I have it on good authority from the Abbess of the Abbey Normal that indeed that they do not engage in such crudity. This was seconded by one of our female bartenders at Gordon Biersch. I held those of the female persuasion in much higher esteem than guys.  I expect more out of them as being a guy I know that most of us can go from civilized to uncouth in three seconds. Now if I’m wrong and if the female persuasion does this I will be disappointed.  I figure since the Deity Herself created women second that they are the more refined model of the species.  So if this is true don’t tell me.

Have a great rest of this Memorial Day weekend.

Peace, Steve+

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May 21, 2009 · 19:08

Remembering the Veterans in My Life…Memorial Day 2009

Today has been a day of rest and recovery from the past 10 days, especially the past 3 days when Judy had to be hospitalized. She is recovering nicely and may actually visit her friends at her church choir practice tonight even if she does not sing. I’m now finishing this post a Harbor Park, the Tides are up 1-0 and going to bat in the bottom of the 2nd.

Also please see Judy’s blog at http://abbeynormalabbess.wordpress.com/ for a good patient eye view of Epiglottitis.

honor and remember with american flag and pow flagOld Glory, the POW-MIA and Honor and Remember Flags

Monday is Memorial Day and I will be both on duty at the medical center as well as participating in a Memorial Day ceremony at the historic Naval Cemetery located on our grounds.  Memorial Day means a lot to me, probably more each year.  This is personal, more personal than at any time in my life.  I guess it comes with experience and maturity as well as a lot of reflection.

I’ve been in the military for almost 28 years now.  I enlisted in the National Guard while in college and entered Army ROTC back in 1981.  Since then it has been to quote Jerry Garcia “a long strange trip.”  My dad served twenty years in the Navy.  He retired in 1974 as a Chief Petty Officer and did time surrounded in the South Vietnamese city of An Loc when it was surrounded by the North Vietnamese for 80 days in 1972.  He didn’t talk about it much when he came back; in fact he came back different from the war.  He probably suffered from PTSD.  All the markers were there but we had no idea about it back then, after all he was in the Navy not the Army.

My second view of war came from the Veterans of Vietnam that I served with in the National Guard and the Army.  Some of these men served as teachers and mentors.  LCDR Jim Breedlove and Senior Chief John Ness at the Edison High School Naval Junior ROTC program were the first who helped me along. They have both passed away in the past year and a half.  I will never forget them.  A post dedicated to them is on this blog. Colonel Edgar Morrison was my first battalion commander.  He was the most highly decorated member of the California National Guard at that time and had served multiple tours in Vietnam.  He encouraged me as a young specialist and officer cadet and showed a tremendous amount of care for his soldiers.  Staff Sergeant’s Buff Rambo and Mickey Yarro taught me the ropes as a forward observer and shared many of their Vietnam experiences. Buff had been a Marine dog handler on the DMZ and Mickey a Forward Observer.  Sergeant First Class Harry Zilkin was my training NCO at the UCLA Army ROTC program.  He was a Special Forces Medic with 7th Group in Vietnam.  He still had part of a VC bayonet embedded in his foot.  He received my first salute as a newly commissioned Second Lieutenant as well as a Silver Dollar.  I understand that after the Army he became a fire fighter.  He had a massive heart attack on the scene of a fire and died a few years later from it.  Sergeant Major John Butler was our senior enlisted at UCLA.  He served with the 173rd Airborne in Vietnam.  Sergeant First Class Harry Ball was my drill sergeant at the ROTC pre-commissioning camp at Fort Lewis Washington in 1982.  He was also Special Forces and a Ranger and served multiple tours in Vietnam.  He was quite influential in my life, tearing me apart and then building me back up.  He was my version of Drill Sergeant Foley in An Officer and a Gentleman. Like Zack Mayo played by Richard Gere in the movie I can only say: Drill Sergeant “I will never forget you.”

With MTT near Syria

As I progressed through my Army career I encountered others of this generation who also impacted my life. First among them was First Sergeant Jim Koenig who had been a Ranger in the Mekong Delta.  I was the First Sergeant that I would measure all others by.  Once during a ARTEP we were aggressed and all of a sudden he was back in the Delta. This man cared so much for his young soldiers in the 557th Medical Company.   He did so much for them and I’m sure that those who served with him can attest to this as well as me. Jim had a brick on his desk so that when he got pissed he could chew on it.   He was great.  He played guitar for the troops and had a song called Jane Fonda, Jane Fonda You Communist Slut. It was a classic.  He retired after he was selected to be a Command Sergeant Major because he valued his wife and family more than the promotion.  It hurt him to do this, but he put them first. Colonel Donald Johnson was the commander of the 68th Medical Group when I got to Germany in January 1984.  Colonel “J” as well all called him was one of the best leaders I have seen in 28 years in the military.  He knew everything about everything and his knowledge forced us all to learn and be better officers and NCOs.  On an inspection visit you could always find him dressed in coveralls and underneath a truck verifying the maintenance done on it.  He served a number of Vietnam tours.  He died a few years back of Multiple Myeloma and is buried at Arlington.  Chaplain (LTC) Rich Whaley who had served as a company commander in Vietnam on more than one occasion saved my young ass at the Army Chaplain School.  He remains a friend and is the Endorsing Agent for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. As a Mormon he was one of the most “Christian” men that I have ever met.  I know some Christians who might have a hard time with that, but Rich demonstrated every trait of a Christian who loved God and his neighbor.

When I was the Installation Chaplain at Fort Indiantown Gap PA I was blessed to have some great veterans in my Chapel Parish.  Major General Frank Smoker flew 25 missions as a B-17 pilot over Germany during the height of the air war in Europe. He brought his wonderful wife Kate back from England with him.  Henry Boyd who I buried was one of the 101st Airborne soldiers epitomized in Band of Brothers. He had a piece of shrapnel lodged next to his heart from the Battle of the Bulge until the day he died. Scotty Jenkes was a Air Force pilot in Vietnam flying close air support. Colonel Ray Hawthorne served several tours both in artillery units and as an advisor in 1972.  CWO4 Charlie Kosko flew helicopters in Vietnam.  All these men made a deep impact on me and several contributed to my career in very tangible ways.

image9391Marines at Hue City Tet 1968

My life more recently has been impacted by others.  My friends of the veterans of the Battle of Hue City including General Peter Pace, Barney Barnes,  Tony “Limey Cartilage ” Sergeant Major Thomas and so many others have become close over the years, especially after I did my time in Iraq. They and all the Vietnam vets, including the guys from the Vietnam Veterans of America like Ray and John  who man the beer stand behind the plate at Harbor Park all mean a lot to me.  My friends at Marine Security Forces Colonel Mike Paulovich and Sergeant Major Kim Davis mean more than almost any people in the world.  We traveled the globe together visiting our Marines.  Both of these men are heroes to me as well as friends.

Finally there are my friends and brothers that I have served with at sea on USS HUE CITY during Operation Enduring Freedom and the advisers on the ground in Al Anbar mean more than anything to me. Perhaps the most important is my RP, RP2 Nelson Lebron who helped keep me safe and accompanied me all over the battlefield.  Nelson who has done Iraq 3 times, Afghanistan, Lebanon and the Balkans is a hero.  The men and women of Navy EOD who I served with from 2006-2008 have paid dearly in combating IEDs and other explosive devices used against us in Iraq and Afghanistan are heros too.  There is no routine mission for EOD technicians.

I give thanks for all them men that I mention in this post, especially my dad. God bless all of you guys. Please honor the Veterans that you know this weekend.  Honor also those who gave their lives in the defense of liberty in all of the wars of our nation. They have earned it.

Peace, Steve+

Post Script: The game went to extra innings and the Tides lost 5-4.  They left the tying run at 3rd base in the bottom of the 12th.  That ended a 8 game winning streak.  On a positive side I was able to get a ball autographed by former Dodger’s pircher ill Singer and Pirate’s Pitcher Bob Kison.  Singer pitched in the Dodger’s rotation with Drysdale, Koufax and other greats.  He threw a no-hitter in 1970 against the pirates and now is a scout for the Nationals, Kison won game one of the 1971 World Series in six innings of releif against the Orioles who he now scouts for the Orioles.

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May 20, 2009 · 19:41

Whirling, transient nodes of thought careening through a cosmic vapor of invention…

mental floss

“My mind is aglow with whirling, transient nodes of thought careening through a cosmic vapor of invention…” Headley Lamar (Harvey Korman) Blazing Saddle’s

Blurred Days, Preparing for Death and Medium Rare Diseases : The past 10 days have been a blur.  So much has happened that I have a hard time coming to grips with it all.  First was going out to California to assist my mom and brother in dealing with things concerning my dad’s worsening condition.  It was good to have a couple of visits with him where he was with me at least for a few minutes.  I will treasure those figuring that they may well be the last that I have with him on this green earth.  Yet it was hard.  I had to kind of package away my stuff for a while and hoping to process when I got back.  It seems that the Deity Herself has decided that she needed to build more character in this character than this character thought that he needed.  When I got back we were faced with the first real health crisis in our lives.  Judy contracted Epiglotitis somehow and we spent the majority of the past three days in hospital ER’s or having her admitted to hospital.  Nothing is ever normal for us. Maybe it’s because neither of us are normal.  In fact Judy is Abbess of the Abby Normal (see the link on my blog roll).  So Epiglotitis is very unusual, 10-40 cases in a million.  Most are kids and it is almost unheard of in this country.  The Third Year ENT Resident said that he had never seen it before.  The attending almost missed it until the ER Attending saw the soft tissue X-Ray.   As I said in my last post after I had made the diagnosis which was confirmed by the physicians: “It’s a kid’s disease except when it happens to adults.” It is what probably killed George Washington.  Thankfully even early Monday morning though the ER Attending did not see it he did the right thing in a heavy dose of IV antibiotics and steroids.  This probably arrested the development of the condition.  When it worsened we got Judy into the ER pretty fast and again the right thing was done.  She seems to be doing well now that she has been discharged home and for this I am most grateful that she is not dead  or even the Grateful Dead. However two long nights in ER with little rest following the trip to California have left me worn out.  I do hope that the Deity Herself does not think it necessary to build any more character in this miscreant Priest.  Thankfully my Department Head took my duty today and put me on two days of leave to put myself back together. Sleep has been fitful and my anxiety levels have been rather high.  Thankfully no PTSD meltdowns this time at least not yet.

The Holy Unction of the Baseball: If you remember my post Baseball in Between Life and Death in the ICU I mentioned a dear woman and her husband who were both big baseball fans.  She was in the ICU and seeming to be getting better and I promised her a baseball.  She crashed hard.  The next day when I brought the ball in she was heavily sedated and intubated. She was trying to die on us.  If you recall I placed the baseball in her hand and she gripped it tight. Her husband and sister said that she did not let it go for about 7 or 8 hours.   I prayed for her as I did this.  I went to California and she was still pretty bad off.  By the time that I came back I heard that she was doing a lot better.  I saw her yesterday and had a wonderful visit with her and her husband.  There is a possibility that they may be actually able to do something to help her heart function.  She remembers having the ball in her hand and wondering how it got there even when she was heavily sedated.  Could it be possible that the Deity Herself could have made The Holy Unction of the Baseball a new sub-Sacrament of the Sacrament of Healing?

Don’t Screw Up the Prayer: I did the invocation and benediction at the groundbreaking ceremony for Preventive Medicine unit at Norfolk.  I’ve done hundreds of prayers at military and civil functions.  They are not hard to do.  What you don’t want to be is too memorable because if this is the case you have probably done something to be remembered and not in a good way.  I have seen this done a number of times.  Often the Chaplain has no clue that he stepped all over it.  This can happen by going too long, forgetting the words or trying to be too uppity, sectarian, funny or unique.  Since most of the time the people at these functions have to be there the chaplain cannot presume that they are the show and can do whatever they want.  In the Navy this is really important.  I write these prayers out and have done so for many years now.  Not only do I write them out I read them several times before I ever get in front of a live audience.  Doing this keeps me from doing something stupid, which on occasion even I can do.   I even have a basic format that I put the prayer into: The introduction; specific event/unit/situation that I am asking God to bless, and the closing sentence.  I try to keep it to 30-45 seconds, never more than a minute.  It is not good when they look at their watches when you are praying or yawn. In the public forum you have a place to be a witness, but it is always a delicate balance. The people at the event are not there to see the chaplain.  The chaplain is like the ceremonial first pitch or meeting between the managers of the two baseball teams and the umpires to discuss the ground rules.  Chaplains are not the main event unless it is an actual worship service.  Even memorial services and ceremonies where the chaplain plays a huge role, the chaplain is not the reason everyone is there.  It is no place to try to be Paul Harvey and tell “the rest of the story.” Thus this ministry in the public arena can be one that either provides the chaplain entrance into the community with opportunities to provide great ministry, even evangelical ministry.  Or ensures that they remain an outsider to the community, nipping at the fringe and hoping someone will hear them.   When we were done I had an officer compliment me on my prayer.  He said it wasn’t too long, wasn’t too short and honored what they were doing.  I love it when a plan comes together.

A Tale of Two Burgers: Yesterday I did something that I have not done in years.  I had two hamburgers in a single day. Both were fast food burgers and usually I maybe eat A HAMBURGER every 45-60 days.  Yesterday as you know from reading this was rather hectic.  One the way home I stopped by Sonic to get a Super Sonic Double Cheeseburger with Mayo, Mustard and Ketchup. For fast food this is a hell of a burger.  It is tasty and big.  Sure it’s not the best hamburger in the world but it will work in a pinch.  Early this morning after leaving Judy at the hospital I stopped by a 24 hour McDonald’s.  I was hungry and tired.  Unfortunately they have an exceptionally limited after midnight menu. Two Types of Quarter Pounder, The Big and Tasty Burger, a Southern Chicken Sandwich, Chicken McNuggets and Chicken Strips.  Not much to choose from.  I should have gone with the McNuggets or regular Quarter Pounder but taken in by the name I asked for the Big and Tasty.  This was very possibly the very worst hamburger that I have ever had.  The meat was bland and greasy and topped by a mound of mayonaise that drowned out any other taste.  I could feel my arteries closing as the first bite went down.  I can only say “Never Again.”

Moving to the Front of the International League: My Norfolk Tides are now 26-12 not only atop their division but now has the best record in the International League.  This is a exciting young ball club.  We have not had anything like this in years at Norfolk.  I just hope that the Orioles don’t rape the Tides to fill their roster.  I know that the minors exist to support the big team but right now this is a special team and fun season.  I pray that the Deity will ensure the Orioles success so that we can continue like this the rest of the season.

Getting the call reversed: It looks like our insurance company has decided to agree with us and the body shop and denial the fraudulent claim against Judy.  Sometimes arguing with the umpire nicely gets the call reversed.

As always thank you for your kind words, encouragement, concern and prayers over the past 10 days.  They are appreciated and I know that they are effectual.

Peace, Steve+

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May 18, 2009 · 16:17

Monday Monday…a visit to the ER and the DMV

Well what can I say?  If you remember Garfield the Cat and how he hates Monday’s you can probably understand this post.  Maybe you have lived this yourself. Maybe not, but there is always tomorrow.

I really expected to have a nice day recovering and resting from my very draining trip to California to help out with my dad.  It started that way but didn’t end that way.  When I got home I found out that my license plates had been stolen off of my car.  Thus I knew that today I would need to go to the DMV to report them stolen and get them replaced.  I figured that this couldn’t be too bad, I called my boss yesterday afternoon and he graciously gave me the time to do so.  Of course I could not gotten through the front gate without them, but still it is good to have an understanding boss.

Late in the evening I started to get my things together for work.    After having watched the movie Fletch with Judy I was tired and expecting to go to bed.  Judy had told me earlier in the evening that she had a sore throat and had taken some throat stuff to make it feel better.  The throat stuff usually takes care of the problem.  This time it didn’t.  She started complaining of sharp pain of like 9 on the scale of 10 in her throat and that she was having a hard time swallowing.  This to me was odd.  Judy has a super high threshold for pain, that fact that she has been married to me for nearly 26 years testifies to this.  Once in Germany she had a cavity filled with no anesthetic when the Army dentist who had the shrine to Dr Mengele in his office refused to give a topical before sticking her with a needle.  She let a broken ankle go for a year before having something done about it.  Sorry I don’t like to suffer like that.  But she has a super high threshold for pain.  So at 0002 in this morning (for those not German or military both of Mickey’s hands are pointing straight up to the 12) yes Monday dark and early, we set out for Sentara Bayside ER.  I was not a happy camper.  I picked up one of my Andrew Greeley Bishop Blackie Ryan mystery novels and took Judy through the rain to the ER.

Now to me a real ER is where guts are hanging out, people a being coded in multiple rooms. In a real ER there are gunshot wounds, stab wounds, burns, strokes, heart attacks, people mangled in car or industrial accidents. Likewise there are always Police with knuckleheads who have been arrested, drug overdoses, suicide attempts and real live psychotic people who think that they are Jesus.  Death, crisis, mayhem that dear readers is my kind of ER.  Eating a cheeseburger with a trauma surgeon while looking at the track of a bullet in an open chest after some gang banger got whacked and we could save him.  That is an ER to me.  I did my residency at Parkland Memorial Hospital in Dallas as the Trauma Department Chaplain and worked as an ER Department Chaplain in a Trauma Center in West Virginia.  I’m used to full waiting rooms, upset people and various forms of craziness.  I now work in a teaching hospital and have the adult and pediatric ICUs.   To put it mildly this was not what I experienced this morning.  We got there and there was no one in the waiting area, which unlike places I have worked before was nicely decorated and relatively comfortable.  They even had Lifetime set as the channel on the cable TV.  Judy went through triage quickly and was taken back.  After a while I was called back.  Judy was getting an IV placed and a full panel of labs and a CT Scan of her obviously swollen neck were ordered.  This was a bit scary for her, and a little unsettling for me as first she is my wife and I don’t want to lose her, but also because I know that if untreated whatever was going on could threaten her airway.  This is never a good thing.

The nursing staff and the ER physician were very nice.  I have no complaints.  For a while it looked like that Judy might be admitted until she responded to the three different IV meds and drips that she was on.  Now whatever was going on was potentially serious but seemed to have been nipped in the bud.  I did try to comfort Judy by telling her that it couldn’t be that bad because she wasn’t intubated, didn’t have a Foley catheter or NG tube, but she didn’t find that terribly comforting.  I young man how had cut his arm pretty bad after giving a dumpster an elbow was across the way and had a pretty cool cut, but still pretty mild by what I am used to.  Compared to the places that I have worked it was far too sedate.  It was really kind of boring.  I guess that is okay, I didn’t want Judy to be the one who got sporty and provide the entertainment for the evening.

We got out of the ER about 0330 and hit 24 hour Walgreens to pick up her medicine.  She even got good stuff for pain, Vicodin.  All I ever get is Motrin, no let me take that back, my Nurse Practitioner here put me on Ultram for my chronic pain in my shoulders.  But this isn’t like Vicodin.  The people in the pharmacy were all friendly, giving us a cheery “Good morning” every time that we turned around. We finally got home well after 0400.  Checking in with the boss I got permission to come in late.

This afternoon I still had to go to DMV to get the license plates.  I didn’t get much sleep and what I had was not very good.  Groggy and grouchy like a bear waking up from hibernation I put myself together.  I did not want to go to the DMV, but it had to be done.  Now the DMV sends chills up my spine.  I grew up in California, so my first experience of the DMV was in that fair state.  The DMV in California is like the major league of the DMV.  I’m sure that I stood in line behind Jimmy Hoffa one day well after he went missing never to be seen again.  He’s probably still in line.  The last time I went to the DMV here it was a long wait.  Today I expected the worst.  It started out where I thought that would be the case when the rent-a-cop at the door sent me outside and told me that I couldn’t have my Norfolk Tides travel mug filled with Dunkin Donuts French Vanilla coffee, Splenda and Coffee Mate Nonfat French Vanilla creamer in the building.  I thought, “well isn’t this just great….I’m tired as hell and have to wait in DMV for what could be forever without more coffee.”  I was even less happy than when I got there.  Thankfully the rest of the DMV time was not too bad.  The lady at the desk was friendly and had lived in California and even knew something about Mudville.  I left with my temporary tags and stopped by the Advance Auto Parts store on Princess Anne Blvd in Virgina Beach to pick up a new license plate frame and mounting devices.  Now Advanced usually gives military members a 10% discount on the purchase.  Showing my ID card I expected this.  However the young man refused to give it to me because “I had not specifically asked him for it.”  I thought this was kind of shitty as all the other guys there have went out of their way to honor this.  I decided to say the hell with arguing with him and just write a nasty comment on my blog with tags for Advance Auto Parts on Princess Anne Blvd in Virginia Beach.  Following this I got Judy some soft food to eat and went in to check in with the boss, drag all the stuff I would need for the week into work and to go through my hundred or so e-mails so I wouldn’t have to do that tomorrow.

In a few minutes I head over to the Church of Baseball, Harbor Park Parish for a double header between the Tides and the Louisville Bats.  Tonight, though tired I need this.

Thank you all for your prayers, encouragement and kindness this past week.

Peace, Steve+

Post Script: The double header against Louisville was great.  The Tides swept the twin bill winning 6-2 in the first game and 2-0 in the night cap.  Justin Christian homered and Matt Wieters  a triple with Chris Tillman picking up his 5th win with no losses. David Pauley getting the win, his third and Jim Miller his 10th save striking out the side to close the game. The Tides are now 25 and 12 and up by 2.5 games over the Bulls in the IL South. I really needed tonight, the weather was a tad bit cold but it was good to be back with my Church of Baseball Friends.  Barry my partner down in section 102 B had his daughter down and it was fun to be with both of them. My section usher Elliott was back as was Chip up in section 202.  Had my usual King Twist pretzel from Kenny up on the concourse.

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May 17, 2009 · 19:29

Rest Recovery and Reaction- Thoughts on Returning Home

The events of the past week have been a blur.  The trip was non-stop action with a lot of stress built in.  I am thankful that I was able to get a few moments to catch up with my brother and old friends over a couple of beers.  The day on the links was really enjoyable.  The pain of my sunburn is slowly going away.  I hope to get out a couple of times in the near future here.  If I actually play more than once a year I might actually be pretty good.

I have received much support from my friends and for this I am grateful. To know that one is not alone in times like these is a great comfort.

I found that I still have some of my PTSD reactions to noise light and crowds, especially in airports or crowded airplanes.  I get anxious and can actually feel the anxiety.  When I get trapped in a big crowd in a confined place it is really noticeable.

I wrote something else over the past few days regarding the way people on the political right and left use and abuse the military and veterans.  I’ve been stewing about it after the remarks of a prominent former elected official about a retired General with a distinguished record last week.  I’ve put off publishing it because I want to make sure that when I do it that I haven’t said something that will piss everyone off.  I’m sure that there will be some who take offense, especially when I criticize certain media personalities who are iconic.  I want people to see that it is wrong to in one sentence to praise the military and in the next criticize it when either the institution or members of the institution active or retired disagrees with their agenda, no matter what it is.  I have been pleased with President Obama protecting our troops by blocking the release of photographs which the ACLU wanted published.  Of course he realized that the photos could only put our troops in danger and inflame an already volatile region.  Likewise he is continuing to increase the size of the active duty Army and Marine Corps and has halted the reductions in the Navy and Air Force.  I think he gets the picture and is looking out for us.  I do not know when or if I will publish that article but I am going to hold off on it at least for a while.  I have become a lot more prudent about such things than I was in times past.  That being said I don’t care if the person being an ass and treating honorable men who serve faithfully in a shabby manner are liberals or conservatives.  If they want to criticize honorable men who have served the country faithfully in peace and war and they have never served I will not hesitate to call them on it.  My brotherhood with those who have served is deeper than any political party. I don’t serve Red States and Blue States but the United States.  I’m tired of people who use their influence in the media to stir up hatred and discontent and question the manner of how we do the jobs they send us to do.   Likewise for them to  question our honor and integrity, especially when most of them have never served a day in uniform is way below the belt.  May the Deity Herself preserve this miscreant Priest.  To quote Colonel Nathan R Jessup in A Few Good Men:

“Son, we live in a world that has walls and those walls need to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? … We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use then as the backbone of a life trying to defend something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said “thank you,” and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest that you pick up a weapon and stand a post. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to.”

Peace, Steve+

Post Script:  I didn’t get to recover last night.  About midnight I had to take Judy to the ER.  She is not one to usually need to do this but she developed some kind of infection that was keeping her from swallowing and possibly threatening her airway.  After a bunch of IV antibiotics, steriods, pain meds and a CT scan they decided not to admit her, though that was a near run thing. She should be fine but I didn’t get home until 0400.  To those not in the military or Germans that means Mickey’s Big hand is on the 4 and his little hand on the 12. Following this I had to go to the DMV to replace my license plates which had been stolen off my car from in front of my house.  This was not the way I thought the return would be.  God bless and thanks for the kind words, thoughts and prayers. Peace, Steve+

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May 16, 2009 · 23:00

Last Visit with Dad, Beer with Breakfast and Musings on my Visit to Mudville

Me and last last pic

Dad and Me 15 May 2009 in our matching Giants Apparel

I got to the airport I had a better time checking in that my trip out.  I had time to get breakfast in the Home Turf Sports Bar. As readers of this blog know I do not do travel or airports well since I came back from Iraq.  I used to travel quite frequently and while I can do well I have a lot more anxiety in crowds and lines.  Thankfully Sacramento is not too bad today.  Even so I decided to get breakfast.  Had scrambled eggs, bacon and home fries washed down by a couple of pints of Sam Adams Boston Lager. I find that a good beer takes the edge off of the anxiety and taste a lot better than Xanax.  The first time I did this was in between flights going to and from Bahrain at Heathrow in London.  A pint goes very well with breakfast, which over there included eggs, potatoes, toast, tomatoes and rashers of bacon. Despite this when I got into the crowded line I have a decent anxiety attack.  The flight to Chicago is full and there are a lot of less experienced travelers and families with small children on board. Thankfully none of the kid’s has started screaming….at least yet, may the Deity Herself keep the kiddo’s quiet.  The most miserable fights I have been on have been the ones with the screaming kids.  I really don’t like the beer on aircraft since it is always in cans.  Beer doesn’t taste as good out of a can, even decent beer.  I prefer beer on tap or in a bottle.   However this afternoon I decided I could use a beer.  The crowed flight was beginning to get on my nerves, especially the young gentleman sitting in front of me who kept adjusting, readjusting and bouncing in his seat. He had almost caused me to spill my Diet Coke.  I went back to the aft galley and the flight attendant when he saw my military ID gave me a complimentary beer and thanked me for my service to the country. That was pretty cool, and though it was a brand I might not normally drink, it tasted better than any domestic beer I have ever had on a flight.   Way to go Southwest.

I do not know when I will get back to Mudville.  I assume that it will be sooner rather than later given my dad’s condition which is obviously deteriorating fairly quickly now.  At least we have gotten some of the hard things done.  My brother and I have continued to grow close and continue to find just how much alike that we are.  The only thing that we might disagree on is our taste in beer, that however is nothing to fret over.  I love his family, he’s a great dad.  Somehow all of us will get through this time.

A couple of other high lights of the trip were having a pizza, salad and beer over at my nephew Eric’s pizza parlor.  The place is called appropriately enough Eric’s. He bought it from the previous owner who had hired him as a teenager.  Then it was called Rick’s and it is still a local fixture in Mudville. Eric runs a great place and frequently is recognized as having the best pizza in Mudville.  As a pizza expert I can say that it is some of the best I have ever had.  Truthfully I like what I like better, Eric’s crust is a bit more substantial than mine, I like the really thin, light and soft New York crust.  Eric’s is definitely a New York Pizza and incredibly good, if you go to Mudville he’s on El Dorado Street.  Tell him I sent you.  He also serves Newcastle Ale on tap. That is also a major selling point for me. He has good taste in beer.  Whenever I go there we always have a nice talk.  He’s a good family man and business man.  It is hard to believe that I have known him since he was 8 years old.  I had dinner at Arroyo’s Café one night.  For the unenlightened Arroyo’s has some of the best Mexican food around.  If you are in Mudville it is worth the visit.  The portions are good sized, taste good and the prices are very affordable.  Finally I had a great time with my buddy Rob from elementary school and junior high school.  I hadn’t seen him since 1979 or 1980 and it was good to reminisce as well as catch up on things.

Today also marks a milestone.  It was 13 years ago today that I was ordained as a Deacon.  I’ll write about that experience another time.  Like most things in my life it was not an ordinary day or boring event.  I guess the surprising thing is that I survived 13 years as a Deacon and as a Priest.  Once again the Deity Herself continues to protect this miscreant Priest.  From the moment that the Blessed Sacrament was lifted high out of the Paten by a gust of air from an errant ceiling fan before the horrified eyes of the blue haired ladies at the cathedral where I was ordained, my service as a Deacon and Priest has not been ordinary.

I’ll get back late tonight and head over to Gordon Biersch with Judy for dinner and a couple of Marzen’s.  Tomorrow I’ll try to take it easy and rest.  I look forward to Monday night and the Tides game.  It has been over 10 days since I’ve been to a game.  Thankfully the Tides were out of town for most of this time.

Thank all of you again for your kind words, thoughts and prayers over the past week. They have been most encouraging.

Peace, Steve+

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May 12, 2009 · 15:56

Connecting…Baseball and Having My Dad Back for a Few Minutes

San_Francisco_Giants_logo

I visited my dad this morning at his nursing home and it was a good visit. The Deity Herself must have intervened, and I am glad about that.  Alzheimer’s is really a terrible disease.  It robs people of their mind long before they physically pass away.  Dad looks terrible and after yesterday I did not expect much, but I wanted to connect somehow.

On the way I picked him up a San Francisco Giants hat and shirt.  Dad has been a Giants fan since coming to the west coast back in the late 1950s.  When we moved up to Mudville in 1971 he would occasionally take us over to Candlestick Park to see them play. Admittedly this was a pretty decent trip so we didn’t go as often as I’m sure that he would have liked.  The first baseball game that dad took me to was in the summer of 1969 Seattle Pilots at Sick Stadium. I don’t remember what day it was, only that it was either a Saturday or Sunday day game which happened to be “Bat Day.”  In those days teams gave real bats to the kids.  I got one with the signature of Pilot’s First Baseman Mike Hegan.  I had the bat for years.  I think I finally broke it playing a pick-up game in the 1970s.  Dumb me; the damned thing would probably be worth a fortune now.   When we moved to Long Beach in 1970 we went to a lot of California Angels games.  This was in the time before they went through the crisis of what to call themselves.  You know, The California Angels, The Los Angeles Angels, the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim and finally now the Anaheim Angels.  Those were great times.  Dad was awesome in getting us to the game, helping us shag foul balls and teaching constantly at the game.  If we were not at the game we had it on the radio.  I still enjoy listening to baseball on the radio.  I mostly now listen to the Norfolk Tides when they are on the road.

Me and Lefty Phillips

When we moved to Mudville, dad like I said would take us to Giants games.  The most memorable of these was on August 24th 1975 when in the second game of a double header against the New York Mets, Ed Halicki threw a no-hitter.  That was cool; dad took me to see a game where a no hitter happened.  It was magic.  We would also attend Oakland A’s games.  This was back in the days of Charlie Finley’s ownership and the dynasty team that included Reggie Jackson, Sal Bando, Rollie Fingers, Vida Blue, Jim “Catfish” Hunter, Joe Rudi, Bert “Campy” Campanaris, “Mudcat” Grant and Paul Linnblad.  We saw a couple of the playoff games against the Detroit Tigers at the Oakland Coliseum in 1972. The A’s won both, Rollie Fingers picking up a win in relief and Blue Moon Odom shutting tehm down in the second.  In Mudville we would go see the Stockton Ports of the California League who at the time were part of the Baltimore Orioles farm system.

halicki no hitter

While we went to a lot of games it didn’t stop there. Dad from as early as I could remember would take me out to the back yard, vacant lot or school baseball field to teach me to pitch, throw and field.  When I saw the movie For the Love of the Game starring Kevin Costner there are old clips, home movie clips of Costner and his parents with his dad playing ball with him.  Those clips sent me back to my childhood when dad did that with me.

oakland a's 1972

Today I had my dad back for about five to seven minutes. They were a good five to seven minutes. The visit yesterday was not so good.  He was not very with it and very anxious.  Today he was calmer and I gave him the Giants hat. When he saw it his eyes lit up.  Then I gave him the shirt, and he smiled.  I then told him the Giants had taken two of three games over the weekend from the Dodgers and he said simply “Good.”  Dad is not a Dodgers fan unless they are playing in the World Series, then he is not a fan, but simply a National League partisan.  I told him about my season ticket with the Norfolk Tides and he said, “I wish I could go with you.”  I then thanked him for all that he taught me about the game and how he taught me to love it.  He said “at least I taught you something.”  I then told him that he had taught me a lot more about life than he might remember.  He smiled.  I told him how he used to take me to the back yard and play catch, teach me to pitch, and to field a ball cleaning as we played pepper.  I said “I still remember you telling me to keep my butt down and keep in front of ground balls.” He said “you have to do that.”  I told him any time that I was in the infield that I could hear his voice telling me to “keep your butt down.”  I did mention that he didn’t teach me how to hit and he said something that surprised me.  He said: “Son, to be a hitter takes a natural gift, a lot of people can’t hit.” I then said, “Well I’m one of them” and he smiled.

He asked me about the Navy and we talked for a minute or two about it.  Then he then started to get anxious and ask me to take him to the recreation room.  They were getting ready for an organ concert.  I wheeled him beside an older lady and he said. “That’s my son…He’s a Navy man too.”

I promised that I would see him again tomorrow.  I don’t know how he will be doing then but at least for a few minutes today I had him back.

Peace, Steve+

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May 11, 2009 · 19:15

The Journey to Mudville

Friends: I wrote this in several parts over the day on my trip. I do thank all those who have expressed sympathy as well as voiced prayers on our behalf. Thank you. Peace, Steve+

There are those times in life where one wonders what the hell is going on.  I sat in my seat between two other gentlemen on the fully booked Southwest Airline flight to Chicago. This was the first stop on my journey home to Mudville, sometimes known as Stockton, California.  The legend is that the poem Casey at the Bat is set in Stockton, and for a couple of years the Stockton Ports were reflagged as the Mudville Nine.  So in a sense I can claim Mudville as part of my baseball lineage.

The journey had begun inauspiciously enough when my cell phone’s alarm clock went off at 0430 to the tune of John Foggarty’s Centerfield.  That’s military time for 4:30 AM, or too frickin’ early… even by my standards.  Now true this is only 15-30 minutes earlier than I normally arise, but I have never been a morning person.  If I had been able to get to sleep at a decent hour this might not have been too bad.  However, I had spent a full day trying to get my shit together on Sunday and did not get to bed until after midnight.  Thankfully my sleep meds worked and I did get to sleep.  When the alarm went off I got my sorry ass up and set the snooze for ten minutes more. Molly the dog glared at me.  Evidently this was too early for her as well.  I finally got up and out of bed, showered and went downstairs to call a cab.  Of course the cab company couldn’t promise a cab before 0600 and since my flight was scheduled for 0645 I knew that this was definitely a no go.  Molly the dog decided that it was now time to come downstairs and demand to be let out so she could do her business.  This being done she collected her payment of a Milk Bone and went back to bed.  After having paid off Molly I loaded my suitcase and backpack into my trusty 2001 Honda CR-V and started off to the airport.  After Iraq I now consider airports as the gateway to hell.

Radio tuned to ESPN Sports Radio 1310 AM I received the news that my San Francisco Giants had beaten the Evil Dodgers at Chavez Ravine 7-5 in 13 innings, taking two of three from the now Mannyless Dodgers. While the Norfolk Tides had taken 2 of three from the hapless Buffalo Bisons which in the Mets organization had once been the Tides. The Mets as usual have decided to treat their AAA farm team badly and people in Buffalo after years of competitive seasons as a Cleveland Indians affiliate are opening complaining.  With the good news I stopped by my local 7-11 for a 24 ounce coffee with 4 French Vanilla creamers and 3 packets of Splenda and zipped off to I-264.  It was then that things started to get interesting and not in a good way.  I managed to find every stoplight and get behind every timid driver who couldn’t drive anywhere near the speed limit.  I’ve driven the Autobahns of Germany and cut my teeth in L.A. and a lot of people in Hampton Roads can’t drive nails, much less cars. I put my CR-V into warp factor eight, set the cloaking device and dodged in and out of traffic and took the secret wormhole into the airport to avoid even more stoplights.  It is patently a good thing that I know such things as I would shortly discover that I would need every second.

I pulled into the parking garage and saw that there were 26 spaces available on the second deck. I drove onto the deck and discovered that there were not 26 spaces but a big fat zero spaces available. Muttering a few things about the questionable parentage of the idiot who couldn’t count the difference between 26 and zero I drove my CR-V up to the 3rd deck.  The sign here said 16 spaces available…good I thought, certainly they couldn’t screw up two floors.  Damned if I wasn’t screwed again.  Here again the parking space counter of the previously mentioned questionable parentage had miscounted.  Instead of 16 spaces there were…you guessed it, zero, nada, nicht eine, yea even nary a single space available. Now calling to mind the probable oedipal practices of the individual of questionable parentage I moved up to the 4th deck.  Here I found success; albeit at the end of a row far from the terminal, but I had my spot…at least I didn’t have to keep going up.  I looked at my watch and knew I had to run. I did the O.J. (racing through the airport, not killing my wife) and I got down to the ticketing area where I was greeted by the sight of at least 250 people in the Southwest line.   I now only had 50 minutes to my flight departed.  Normally with Southwest this is easy. They are efficient and the line, if they have one at all it tends to move fast.  Today was like something out of the hell known as the Orlando International Airport.  Some group of 100 or so people had bumped everyone else aside. Likewise one of the big TSA baggage X-rays was down, turning this into a nightmare is grumbling people stewed wondering if they would make their flights.  I uttered some more #*@#%! words under my breath and then asked the Deity Herself to give me a break. Thankfully the Deity and the good people at Southwest ensured that line moved fast.  We received some help when the group who had gooned up the line was finished.  Then the agent called for my 0645 flight.  At this point all of now very late passengers stormed the ticket booth like revolutionaries storming the Bastille. Thankfully I had good position based on my position in the line. Expert that I am I weaved through the lesser experienced travelers. I slid into a self serve kiosk that no one else had spotted like Ricky Henderson would slide into second. As I got my boarding pass a pushy woman tried to bump me out of line. I didn’t like it; she was trying to crowd me out of line when I was there first.  Thankfully she was too dense to know that she needed to check her bags despite having a boarding pass in her hand.  The Southwest agent told her to get in a different line and I got my bag checked.  That task completed I did the O.J. and flew up the steps to the TSA checkpoint.  Jumping over a bank of chairs I managed to pass about 50 people only to discover that the nefarious group of 100 was already at the TSA checkpoint.  Once again the pushy lady tried to elbow her way through the line.  Since she obviously was a narcissist with no sense of propriety I cut her off. She looked at me like I was stupid, forgetting that we had had this little discussion just a few minutes before.  I said “ma’am, most of us are on your flight and are ahead of you.” Her jaw dropped and a TSA agent told her to get back echoing my words.   She looked at me and said “Will they hold the flight for me?”  To upset her, having faith in the Deity and Southwest, I lied and said, “Probably not.” Of course I didn’t believe this with so many of us in the same predicament. Yet I kind of enjoyed the look on her face as she moved back to her rightful place at the end of the line. Not the nicest thing to do, but some things need to be done.  I’m sure it was a sin.  As I asked one priest in confession: “Is it still a sin if they deserve it?” He told me: “Yes, but there may be some mitigating circumstances, but that is still a sin.”  Well there’s some more extra innings in Purgatory for me. Thankfully I am an expert traveler now, so when I got to the screening station I flew through it. Looking at my watch I knew that I had to be screwed. I had heard the final boarding call in the TSA line and it was past time for departure.  I raced down the concourse I saw that the Deity had already spoken to the kind folks at Southwest and had them hold the aircraft for all of us…the pushy lady included, proving that the Deity even cares for pushy narcissists. I guess that the rain falls on the just and the unjust alike.  Somehow I got through this episode without having a PTSD meltdown despite not having either a Xanax or beer to calm down.  Lot’s of deep breathing I guess helped this time.  Had I not made the flight I might have cracked, but the Deity Herself looked after me.

We arrived at Chicago Midway a little bit late, but in plenty of time to make my connecting fight to Sacramento, the alleged capitol of the State of California.  I say alleged because though there is much in the way of a state government in it there is painfully little evidence of effectiveness, despite having the Governator. Getting to Sacramento I picked up my luggage, which thankfully despite the lateness of my check-in got through.  If I had done the same on either Divided Airlines or U.S. Scare I’m sure that the luggage would not have made it on my flight, but would have ended up God knows where.  While waiting for my bag I had an e-mail from my mom about a run in that she had with a lady from hospice.  She was pretty spun up and my brother confirmed this.  I got my rental car, a 2009 Black Nissan Altima and headed down I-5 to Mudville.

When I got to Mudville I stopped by Raley’s to pick up the flowers that I told my mother would be arriving through a special arrangement with the florist.  Since I figured I should play this up for all that it was worth I decided to call and let her know that I had gotten her message.  She immediately launched into what was wrong with the world as I sat in my car in her driveway. I assured her that my brother and I would take care of things and that everything would be okay.  I knocked on the door with my phone in hand still talking to mom.  She told me someone was at the door and I said I would call back. She looked out the blinds which cover a window by the door, and then closed them, and then in disbelief opened them again. She was floored and stared in disbelief as I stood at the door, flowers in hand. I took her to the nursing home to see dad.  Somehow my nephew’s and niece managed to keep the secret the last two weeks. The surprise was total. He was glad to see me and immediately asked where Judy was.  He was disappointed that she was in Virginia. Unfortunately he looks in a lot worse shape than he was last year.  After the visit which included talks with the nursing staff and billing office I took my mom to Chile’s.

Now the hard part really starts.  Have to go up and see my dad.  I’ll be getting mom to the funeral home as well as make arrangements with their church for the memorial service at a date to be determined.  Following this I will be helping my brother with selling my parents old grave plots back to the cemetery in Napa where they lived a few years back. Then I will work on insurance issues between the insurance company and the nursing home.  The insurance company is being stupid right now.  The first 6 months they paid and now despite no change they are claiming that the nursing home is entering the wrong billing codes and say that they have the case “under investigation.”  However, since they have set precedent they should keep paying.  If they don’t start soon my brother and I will have to sue their sorry asses for putting my mom through hell.  If dad was with it he would be pissed.

So now that I am in Mudville I have work to do.  Take care and keep us all in your prayers.

Peace, Steve+

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May 7, 2009 · 15:38

Baseball in Between Life and Death in the ICU

CALBaseball_142

I have had a number of patients in my ICUs who are or in the case of some who have passed away avid baseball fans.  Likewise there are a number of physicians and nurses who are avid fans of the game, or sometimes certain teams.  Like me the are members of the Church of Baseball.  Some even attend my parish, Harbor Park.  It is funny how in the intersection of life and death that baseball finds a place more than any other sport.  Baseball has a quality and nuance that is different from most other sports, save perhaps golf.  Baseball is not bound by the constraints of time.  It has an eternal quality that somehow transcends life and death. Two of my favorite attending physicians are big fans and one coaches on the side.

There is a scene in The Babe Ruth Story where a critically ill child asks the Babe to hit a home run for him.  The Babe then went out and hit two.  Later in the movie when the Babe is dying of cancer he is given a Miraculous Medal.  The film was rushed to completion before Ruth died and the scene at Yankee Stadium was filmed shortly before a game and Ruth came from his death bed to be there.

In Field of Dreams the spirits of the 1919 White Sox who were forced out of baseball in the “Blacksox” scandal.  The Pride of the Yankees deals with the life of Lou Gehrig, baseball’s original “Iron Man” and his battle with ALS.  His speech at Yankee Stadium when he retired from the game is classic.  It is a reflection on life well lived and thanksgiving for what he experienced.

LouGehrigDay

Lou Gehrig at Lou Gehrig Day July 4th 1939

“Fans, for the past two weeks you have been reading about a bad break I got. Yet today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. I have been in ballparks for seventeen years and I have never received anything but kindness and encouragement from you fans. Look at these grand men. Which of you wouldn’t consider it the highlight of his career just to associate with them for even one day? Sure I’m lucky. Who wouldn’t have considered it an honor to have known Jacob Ruppert? Also, the builder of baseball’s greatest empire, Ed Barrows? To have spent six years with that wonderful little fellow, Miller Huggins? Then to have spent the next nine years with that outstanding leader, that smart student of psychology, the best manager in baseball today, Joe McCarthy? Sure, I’m lucky. When the New York Giants, a team you would give your right arm to beat and vice versa, sends you a gift, that’s something. When everybody down to the groundskeeper and those boys in white coats remember you with trophies, that’s something. When you have a father and mother work all their lives so that you can have an education and build your body, it’s a blessing. When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed, that’s the finest I know. I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth. And I might have been given a bad break, but I’ve got an awful lot to live for.” – July 4, 1939 at Yankee Stadium on Lou Gehrig Appreciation Day

These are intersections of life and death.  In the ICUs I have a surprising amount of dealings with baseball.  I have a lady who is very sick.  She is a delightful woman with a wonderful husband. She looked like she was on the uptick a couple of days ago we had a great talk, and wonderful time.  We found that we shared a common passion…you guessed it, baseball. We agreed that the Biblical writers describing heaven being unaware of the Deity’s love of baseball had erred in their description of heaven. We agreed that heaven had to have not streets of gold, but the lushest turf and most immaculate infield, with foul lines that went into infinity.   She and her husband watched the Nationals and Astros play deep into the night.  Yesterday she took a turn for the worse.  As we visited we visited I prayed and anointed her at her request.  And I asked her if she would like a baseball. Her eyes lit up and she nodded “yes.”  So I promised that I would get one from the stadium last night.  Well, the Devil got in the mix and the Tides got rained out, so I went home.  I found a ball that I got when throwing out the first pitch at a Kinston Indians game a few years back.  I inscribed it to her and took it to her room. She was pretty heavily sedated, but her sister was with her.  I let her know that I had the baseball for her.  She opened her eyes and I put the ball in her hand.  Her hand gripped it tight and I blessed her.

I do pray that she will get better.

Peace, Steve+

grainger stadiumGranger Stadium Kinston NC

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May 5, 2009 · 16:41

Rainy Days on Mondays and Tuesdays Always Get Me Down…Especially on Game Night

Last night was a disappointment.  We had our second rain out of the year at Harbor Park.  I got to the the stadium just prior to what should have been the first pitch.  We were already delayed, but the radio announcer on 1310 AM sports radio say that he thought that they might get the game in.  Boy was he wrong.   I got to the park and had my usual chat with Chip the usher for section 202, my friend and usher Elliott visiting family and slacking in Massachusetts this week.  I also talked with Ray and Bill the Vietnam Veteran  Beer vendors and Kenny over at the King Twist Pretzel stand.  As I was getting my cup of Gordon Biersch Marzen the rain started coming down again.  Like really heavy.  I went over and got my pretzel, this time salted with Guilden’s Spicy Brown Mustard and continued to visit on the concourse.  I did not even dare to try to take my seat in section 102 row B.  Far too exposed to the elements. The rain continued as me and my stadium buddies talked about life, baseball the military and other assorted subjects.

I’ve never been a big fan of rain, especially when I have to be out in it.  I have never been fond of the tropics for this very reason.  I always figured with my love for the military that had I served in World War II that I would have done very well with Rommel and the Afrika Korps, but not so well at Guadalcanal.  To my Vietnam era brothers, I’ll take the desert of my Iraq any day over the Mekong Delta.  When I deployed with the Marines to Okinawa in 2000-2001 I was ever so glad to go to Camp Fuji Japan and to South Korea for this very reason.  I don’t like to be out in the rain.  I know that we need it, but I still don’t like it.  I hate to clean mud off of me or dry out clothing and not only that there are the vermin.  Snakes, bugs and all sorts of slithery and slimy creatures that you can’t see loaded with all sorts of poisons and disease.  There are patently some of those things in the desert, but they are easier to spot.

We in addition to contenting with the infernal rain, we had a leak at the hospital which involved my office.  It was damaged by the leak, not nearly as badly as my next door neighbor Carl, but enough to warrant me getting called at home and to have to wait for maintenance people half of the morning.  That is now fixed and as I look at the fresh ceiling tile, untouched by moisture I breathe a sigh of relief.  I look in my trash can and see the goo of the former ceiling tiles which look like regurgitated oatmeal with mold on it, and I can only thank God for Grace.  Not God’s Grace, which I am always thankful to the Deity Herself for, but for Grace the lady who faithfully cleans my office who found the leak and reported it.  God does look after Her miscreant baseball loving Priests, and once again I am thankful.

It has been raining all day today.  I do feel that this is the Devils work for only the Devil could be involved in trying to rain out more one game in a short homestead.  I will head over to Harbor Park and hopefully this infernal rain will relent and we will be graced by baseball tonight. If not, I’ll have my beer and hot dog and go home when they call it after conversation with my friends on the concourse.

Blessings, Steve+

Post Script:  The Deity Herself smiled upon us.  The rain ended and we got game one in before it started coming down again.  The Tides won on a combined 2 hit shutout by starter Rich Hill and Matt Albers.  Hill was in his 3rd rehab start with the Tides.  Tarps we being readied as I left the stadium between the two games.   The weather radar shows some pretty heavy weather coming up from the southwest.  I do think that the Devil may take the nightcap away.   I had a nice time talking with Chip, Ray, Bill and Kenny up on the concourse.  Had an older gentleman who said that he played for the 1969 Tides sat next to me with his brother who knew little about the game.  The older gentleman knew the game and when his less than knowledgeable brother got distracted on the concourse for a couple of innings we had a nice talk.  All in all a nice night.  Hopefully tomorrow is even better. Peace, Steve+

Second Post Script: Despite the Devil’s best efforts the Deity Herself ensured that the weather held at Harbor Park for the Tides to take the nightcap from the Clippers 5-2.  This in spite of a 17 minute power outage.  The weather is now coming in fast.  David Hernadez got the win for theTides and Jim Miller the save. Nolan Reimold, Scott Moore and Oscar Salazer all doubled and Mike Costanzo tripled.

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