The Grim Reaper takes a friend...

My friend Jon died in his sleep last night. He wasn't even 30 years old! Jon's wife, Monie, awoke to find that she was a widow with two small children — a 3-year-old daughter, and a 10-month-old son. When I heard the news, I cried for Jon, but after I phoned my mom to tell her about my friend she said "Don't cry for him. God favored him by letting him die in his sleep. That's the best that we can hope for." (My mom wasn't quoting the lyrics of the song "The Gambler". At 84, and a retired nurse, she knows what she's talking about.)

My tears now are for Monie, who won't have time to fully mourn her loss, because she's got those two young children depending on her. They are both too young to remember their father for long. How very said that the kids will grow up not remembering their dad! Jon is most decidedly worth remembering. He was one of those brilliant yet difficult people who are exasperating yet huggable at the same time. The sad thing is that Jon never realized what a good man he was. Like so many people he spent too much time listening to the demon voices in his head that kept repeating "you're a fraud, a fraud". And he was a fraud, in a way, because as human beings we are all frauds, at times. It goes with the territory. And yet, and yet... Jon was one of the most REAL people I've ever met with the biggest, caring heart of anyone.

One night last fall, my home was broken into. I awoke to find a strange man sitting on the end of my bed, watching tv. (Okay, the guy was obviously crazy, but that didn't make it any less scary, for me.) Jon was the first one at my home, after the police arrived. He and his wife were the only people in Jacksonville who went out of their way to ensure I was okay. Jon stopped by frequently to check on me. He'd invite me to dinner and over for holidays too. I truly grew to love Jon and his family. I saw with my own eyes that Jon was a wonderful father. He totally adored both his children, and he loved his wife too, doing everything he could to help her care for the children and see that she had everything she needed. I think he must have been a good husband too.

If you are reading my blog, please ask yourself if there is anyone you need to make amends to or anyone that needs to hear you love them. Don't put off that apology. Don't stop yourself from saying those three words "I love you". You never know how long you or any of your loved ones have on this earth. Life is short. Too short. And all we have is what the song says.... love. Love is all we need.

Goodbye Jon. I'll think about you and miss you for a long time to come. I'll do what I can to help Monie get through this and I'll do what I can to see that your kids never forget you. Love you, Jon. Have fun flying around in heaven. See you later.

Livin' in the land of Unreality

They "recommended" the death penalty for a neanderthal-looking, black-american pedophile who murdered his nine children by shooting each one in an eye. He fathered some of the children with his own daughters. An evil man, evil! But giving him the death penalty isn't good enough punishment. He should be set loose in the main floor of the jail and the prisoners should have their way with him, first. But of course we can't do that, it would make us 'like him'.

How can a guy murder his own children? How can a guy rape his own daughters? Oh the liberal hearts will say "something bad happened to him when he was a child." His not his fault, or perhaps, it's not 'entirely' his fault." You know what? It is his fault! Because something bad happens to everyone, sometime. hmmm not one time but many times in a lifetime. Sometimes some people are spared bad things in their childhood. But always something bad happens. It goes with life. As M. Scott Peck said "life is difficult". Everyone knows that, but Scott got it printed (and therefore, copyrighted) in a book. Imagine! Do you remember the old t-shirt saying from decades ago? "Life is a bitch; then you die."

But life is also something most people fight long and hard to keep. So even though it is difficult, it must seem worthwhile, otherwise, why fight for it? Maybe it's a natural process, something we can't help doing — fighting to keep on keeping on. I don't know. Some days (not many), I feel ennui. "The feeling of being bored by something tedious." That's the dictionary definition of ennui. And that's how I feel, sometimes, not often. I'm sure you know what I mean.

The Long, Long Trailer

Saturday was a 'lost day' because I didn't get home until after 3am and didn't fall asleep until after 4. The plane was stuck on the jetway for over three hours due to a backup hydraulic problem. Sheesh. Normally, I won't give 'real names' or 'poke' at companies, but based on my experience, AirTran is a terrible airline and they won't last long. When the plane arrived in Tampa early afternoon Friday, clear skies no cross currents, yet the pilot bounced the plane on landing! (That's poor landing skills.)

Then on the flight back around 1:45 am, when the pilot landed in Atlanta he not only bounced the plane, he landed too fast and everyone could feel him slamming on the brakes. SHEEEEESH!!! As a private pilot with many years of flying experience, I can tell you I'll never fly with AirTran again.

Also, the seats on their Boeing 737 were cheapo's... you couldn't adjust them! That's correct. The seats were set in the 90-degree position and that was that. My back was sore all day Saturday — although it was kinda funny watching all the tired passengers Friday night simultaneously realizing they were gonna sit up straight all the way to Atlanta. Thank heavens it's only an hour-long flight from Tampa!

Well, I'm busy studying security issues as hopefully I will have a new and very interesting job, very shortly. I will have to stay where I am until I complete some training for my current team members, but I don't think that will create a problem. Besides, it will give me time to carefully pack up my 'stuff', find a new place to live, and learn all about my soon-to-be new employer's product line and methodologies. I have already downloaded a demo of the tool they use for testing as well as a couple of their product lines. And I've put my Mandarin Chinese studies on the shelf temporarily, while I come back up to speed on French. Decades ago I could easily banter in French. Of course now it will take me some time to renew my acquaintance with that marvellous 'language of love'.

Also, since I haven't been a network engineer for several years, everything I knew about Windows is locked up in my memory banks. Interestingly, several months ago at a garage sale I bought a set of MCSE books for Win2k and they are only a couple years old too. That means they won't work as the only reference material for the MCSE certification, but they WILL work for re-learning Windows security stuff, provided I supplement the books with msdn stuff, etc. etc. (which obviously I will).

While I was typing this, someone knocked at my front door. When I opened it there was an earnest-looking, young black man dressed in a hot dark suit and white shirt. He was carefully holding some newspapers. The kid looked a little confused when he saw me (as most of my neighbors are black-americans), then he hesitatingly asked if I would like to give him a dollar for one of the "mumble mumble mumble" newspapers. When I asked him to repeat the name of the paper, he lost his courage and muttered "oh sorry, never mind" and began to leave. But for some reason I stopped him. I handed him a dollar and he handed me what turned out to be a Louis Farakhan newspaper supporting the local american muslim mosque.

Frankly, the last thing I want to do is support a mosque, particularly one that is part of the american muslim organization started by Elijah Muhammed and now run by Farakhan. Cause Farakhan killed Malcolm X (unless the CIA did, I'm not sure exactly which, though I 'lean' towards Farakhan as the murderer).

But I am also trying to be a good Christian so I didn't shut the door on the kid but instead voiced my opinion that the problem with Farakhan is that he 'leaves out' 50% of the population, women, by making his 'mission' about men (referring to the million-man march). It was odd but this young guy and I were on the same wave length, because he immediately said "oh it's not like it was when the million-man march happened (and I had not mentioned my thoughts on that). This next march is gonna be million-man and WOMAN march." (Seems Farakhan (or perhaps just the young man) is trying to pretend he thinks women are important. Well, if it is Farakhan's thought then perhaps he's changed. After all, Farakhan isn't a spring chicken, he's like an old cock only good for the stew pot. Thinking about him reminded me of Eldridge Cleaver. His book "Soul on Ice" was the 'icon' for the Black Panthers back in the 60s-70s. Then a decade or so later Cleaver had not only renounced the Black Panthers, but had converted to Christianity and left the "Peace and Freedom" party to become a stolid Republican. He even wrote a barbeque book! I have that barbeque book somewhere. It's how I know how to make macaroni salad. No, Eldridge didn't have a macaroni salad recipe in the book, but my black-american friend, Cassie, who gave me the barbeque book, brought the macaroni salad to my first cookout using Cleaver's recipes. I make her salad all the time now, but I never did have another Cleaver cookout.

Did I ever mention that I used to live directly across the street from the Black Panther's Headquarters? Or that I shopped a lot at their Muslim bakery? I used to buy black panther veggie burgers there. The staff would make me wait until they'd served at least three black people ahead of me, whether or not I was there first. For some reason I didn't mind, as I thought it was 'turn about fair play' or something like that. While I was waiting to be asked for my order, I'd browse through the cards they had for sale. I can clearly remember one card. There was a photo of a young black girl (about 13-14 years old) on the front. She was holding some kind of automatic weapon. On the inside of the card three words were printed: "What It Is". I never did, and still don't, understand the meaning of those three words, but I didn't care. Those Black Panther veggie burgers were delicious!

That was back in the day when I only dated rich guys (hey, I used to be quite cute, or quite slutty, can't exactly remember which, heh heh, but as they say you never regret the things you did). I liked to have the rich guys take me to places they didn't want to go, like the nude beach at the river over Mt. Tamalpias way, or like Eli's Mile-High Club — one of my favorite small jazz/blues clubs in Oakland. Usually there were about 40-50 black-american attendees... and me. For some reason which I really don't 100% comprehend, in those days I could go anywhere I wanted to and no one bothered me. I wonder why that was? Wish I knew. I remember taking some rich guy with a hyphenated last name and a "III" after it, to Eli's club. The guy drove a bentley and was a corporate attorney. His mom owned several high-rises in San Francisco, and hated the idea of her son dating me. She thought I was a hippie but I was only it for the plentitude of sex that came with headscarves, bellbottoms and patouli oil. She invited me to dinner and I brought a bottle of my favorite white wine. It came in a fish-shaped bottle with a screw cap. It was a sweet wine which is why I liked it. Also, I used the empty bottles to decorate my living room windowsills. I'd fill each bottle with water to which I'd add fabric dye so that when the afternoon sun shone in the windows, rainbow colors would dance across the mirrors I'd strategically hung on the walls opposite the windows. In those days I was easily amused. hmmm. I have the same kinds of bottles lined up in my kitchen window right now, so I suppose I'm still easily amused. I even have the same stupid hair do... scraggy hair with bangs I cut myself, but that's because I'm a cheapskate. heh heh

Now where was I when my old-lady mind meandered down that memory lane? Oh yes!

The kid handed me the newspaper as I handed him the dollar in payment. Then he heard my tv and realized that the Lucille Ball/Desi Arnez movie "The long, long trailer" was playing. His face lit up with a big smile, his body visibly relaxed and he said, with great enthusiasm: "Hey, I LOVE that movie!!! It's Lucy and Ricky in that big trailer!!" We stood there in silence sharing a common love for Lucy. I can't explain it exactly, but it was a wonderfully human moment. I could have kissed him (but I didn't). Then without another word he turned and jogged down the stairs and I went back to work on my blog, while Ricky cautiously drove over the narrow road pulling that long, long trailer.

Lucy can always bring people together. She was an amazing woman, but without Desi to spark her and keep her on track, she would have been just another 'B' movie actress. I'm sure of it. Same thing for Desi. He needed Lucy and she needed him. It's sad that they didn't stay together for a lifetime, but in actuality, they did remain friends until Desi died. That's all one can expect, in this age of broken promises.

Well, there's a Buster Keaton silent movie on now. It's very well filmed for having been released in 1928. A few minutes ago in the movie there was a little girl who looked to be about six years old, which means that if she is still alive, she's my mom's age. Amazing. I must now end this rambling missive to call my mom as it is her birthday. I love my mom. She's an amazing woman who, after my dad died, still managed to raise the six kids who were still living at home then, without once accepting any kind of public assistance. My mom only went to the sixth grade too. But she's remarkably intelligent, and well-read. I must get my intelligence partly from her, but then my dad was an inventor, a consummate salesman and an author too. Yeah, I would have to say that my siblings and I could not have picked better parents. We had a grand time as kids, and several of us were lucky enough to have had both our parents until we were grown and on our own. Sometimes I could weep for my younger siblings who didn't have that luxury... a mom who only worked part-time and was waiting for them when they got home from school — to make sure they did their home chores, of course. heh heh

Well, I must call my mom and wish her happy birthday then get back to my studies.

A hui hou! Tante Waileka

Shana Alexander &Paul Winchell, gone but not forgotten

The sad truth is that excellence makes people nervous.
— Shana Alexander

Shana Alexander died on Thursday and was inadequately eulogized by the news media on Sunday. That's not surprising of course. The news media, or as they should more accurately be known, "the devil's minions", are never happy to publicize intelligent women who also happen to have integrity as their key word. Of course, the minions are happy to publicize women who are members of their 'upside down society', such as Hi[t]lery Clint[slime]on, because those women are already 'signed sealed delivered'. But women like Ann Coulter, or Barbara Olson, well, the only place you can learn anything useful about them is on newsmax.com and then only if the women are still so newsworthy that their names can 'sell ads'.

Sure, I admit occasionally reading email-blasts from newsmax, (particularly if they put down Hitlery or her fast-food scarfin' pseudo-hubby, Bill "I didn't swallow, err, inhale"), but I don't 'buy it at the news stand'.

The best eulogy for Shana comes from the Minneapolis-St. Paul Star Tribune, from which I quote:

A 1945 graduate of Vassar College, Alexander worked as a freelance writer for Junior Bazaar and Mademoiselle magazines and had a stint as entertainment editor at Flair magazine before going to work at Life as a $65-a-week researcher in 1951.

After becoming Life's first female staff writer, she wrote the magazine's award-winning column "The Feminine Eye" in the 1960s.

In 1969, Alexander became the first female editor of McCall's, where she was known for restyling the magazine to appeal to women's interests beyond domestic issues. She quit the post in 1971 and later described it as a token job in a sexist environment.

"Here was this magazine selling all these products to women, and it had no women in any level of photography or editing," she told the Chicago Tribune in 1990. "I was a figurehead. So I went around trying to bring them into the modern world."

She was a columnist for Newsweek magazine in 1975 when she was teamed with James J. Kilpatrick, the conservative Washington Star columnist, on the "Point/Counterpoint" segment on CBS' "60 Minutes."

Over the next four years, the duo debated the topics of the day and famously traded barbs and phrases such as "Oh, come on, Jack" and "Now see here, Shana."

Alexander once called the "60 Minutes" segment the news magazine's "modern reincarnation of Punch and Judy."

Shana, I learned a lot from you and though I was never particularly of a 'liberal' mindset (except for how I view sex), your magazine articles and your wit as evident on "Point/Counterpoint" always made me think outside the box, and for that I thank you. May you rest in peace, Ms. Alexander, and may you enjoy long leisurely angelic strolls with Jesus and his mom.

Paul Winchell, the voice of Tigger, and so much more...

Paul Winchell, an entirely different sort of person from Shana and yet so alike. Both Paul and Shana lived the lives which they imagined, to paraphrase Emerson. Paul was not only an accomplished ventroloquist, but an inventor par excellence (like my own father, who invented the first zig-zag sewing machine and a number of other inventions, but I'll tell that true story another day).

Paul invented and patented the first artificial heart, the flameless cigarette lighter, battery-lighted key case (a very handy tool as many of us know), a garment to prevent hypothermia, and finally the retractable fountain pen (click, click), plus many more I don't feel like mentioning here, except of course for the disposable razor).

Paul, I'm sure you are enjoying repartee with Shana and maybe Barbara Olson too, but I think maybe you were a male chauvinist, so perhaps you are over in the Fundamentalist section of heaven, as most surely Shana and Barbara are not.

P.S. Barbara Olsen was one of the souls on Flight 77. I've been wanting to get involved in the Flight 77 debate for some time now. But since I cannot substantiate anything, except that I 'have read a lot of conspiracy theories about Flight 77 on the internet', I've finally concluded that I should stay out of the discussion. But, there must always be a but[t], "don't you think it is strange that there weren't any arab folks on Flight 77 and don't you think it is possible that the flight was shot down by our own missiles or one of our fighter jets? Well I think it is possible, and so will you in a couple years when Hollywood makes that movie (you know it's coming.)"

nuff said.