First Snow, Sort of … WAKE UP!!

The image below was taken on Friday, September 13th.  Some of you have already seen this image.  You might have to expand the picture to make it worth your while.  This first snow started happening around Midnight, between the 12th and the 13th.  I was doing some work that led me late into the night and early morning.  That’s when I noticed.

FirstSnow9_12_14

First Snow

But the whiteness was not that noticeable until after Midnight.  As you can see, it is but a “dusting” of snow, not much of a snowfall.  Yet, it is enough to embarrass me, as I confess that I am  behind on wood cutting … and without excuses, so no compassion is warranted.  I also confess my lack of vision, a truth animated by these cold temperatures and poor visibility from the mist / fog / snowy air.  Simply put, I am heavy with this incoming winter.  Do I have any basis for complaining?  No.
The first snow could have happened before now.  And, thankfulness is what should be happening: God’s gift of seasons; the whiteness to symbolize what is good; the moisture for the trees, and the waterfalls.  Sometimes … in our lives … the coldness comes, poor visibility happens.  After it’s all said and done, we have reason to sing.

By the way, friends, the reason for the delay on this post was because of my other laptop’s demise.  However, Fed Ex drove by about thirty minutes ago with my birthday present.  My birthday has already passed, but thankfulness is high, for this laptop – birthday present.  I decided my first order of business was to finish this post that I attempted to write before the untimely passing of my previous laptop.  Indeed, I am thankful for my wife’s kindness to procure a healthier laptop for me.  Thank you, my dear.  I think, but I’m not sure, that this laptop doesn’t require an oil change every three-thousand miles.  That’s a bonus, eh?

 Have a good winter.

T

The Boys are Asking Questions

Hey, Guys … I have wanted to write this post for a while.  This is for men; this is for the sons who need good men to be in their life; this is for women who can encourage men as they feel led.  And just as importantly: this is for the young people in our generation, in our lives, who desperately need something, like support, like a “Hello”.   Years ago, I worked with at-risk kiddos: both boys and girls; mostly adolescents.  I remember in a group we were having at the group home, one boy was responding to my words that his participation in the group without screaming profanity was very important to everyone.  His words were:

“Who Cares?!!”

Here is what he meant:

 

 

No One Cares Depression Overcoming Depression Quotes

 

The question, “Who cares?!”, I learned is not meant as a question, but a statement.  After the boy asked that question, I answered him: “I care.”  He looked at me, rolled his eyes, and said  “It wasn’t a question.”  There are two other questions that were “asked” often:

“What difference does it make?”

“So WHAT?!  What are YOU … going to do?”

These two questions were like the first one: statements.

Okay, my point is this.  One of the dynamics that was going on, and maybe the kiddo did not even realize it, was this … in my own description:

A boy throws out a question that is really a sneer,  another version of

“F _ _ _ Y _ _”. 

The question / statement is also meant as a dare.  My paraphrase, instead of “Who Cares?”, what is meant is this:  I DARE YOU TO CARE!  Don’t tell me you care, because I’ve heard it all before by mean people, and didn’t care.  You say you care, but I am going to go run from this place, and … guess what?  You’ll never see me again!  Do you know how many stinking counselors I’ve had since I was ten, when Social Services took me away from my parents?  No, don’t tell me you care.  I know better.”

I’m going to add one statement to those three questions:

“I don’t care.”

The big picture, guys, is that this area of discussion is a big mess.  Our society has betrayed our kiddos.  If you were to invest into a kiddo, one of your hurdles would be to give that kiddo a reason to care.  Another hurdle: to show that you actually do care ( in response to the question).  And it will probably take a while.  Another hurdle: get a handle on how you are going to answer the other question, “What are you going to do?”  If you say you are going to do something, then do it.

Don’t promise what you cannot deliver. 

For their question about “difference” … that’s a tough one.  Our kiddos today need to see the difference, because talk … is … cheap.

And, my last encouragement, guys, is this.  As men (not kids / adolescents) we have our own “stuff”.  Maybe some of you are saying to yourselves right now,

“I … Don’t … Care.”

If you do not care, then forget about investing into the life of a kiddo.  Let me rephrase that:

PLEASE …

forget about investing into the life of a kiddo.

If its your son or you daughter, that is a different story but the importance of caring is no less important.  If you are doing the “I don’t care”, then you need to … somehow … get your butt from the stagnant pool of toxic emotions where you are sitting in, to some dry ground, where you will stand firm, and stand in the gap, and fight for your son and your daughter.  You are needed now.  Let’s do this.  This could be one of your finest hours.

 

 

The Sun Sets – On an Ancient Land

Wilder Man on Rolling Creek:

That Australian fella … Man, he comes up with some great posts and some stunning photos. I thought you might like this image, from Baz. Peace, T

Originally posted on Baz - The Landy (Out and About having fun):

Sunset in AustraliaOutback Australia…

Crikey, you’ve got to love it…

Photo: Baz – The Landy

View original

River Spey Film

Wilder Man on Rolling Creek:

I had another flashback of Antarctica. I don’t mind them. I wish I could go back. But finding a blogger in Antarctica helps. Enjoy. T

Originally posted on Kirk of the Antarctic:

I have just completed making a short and longer version of a Spey descent with my good mate Biscuit guiding it.  I paddled solo alongside the team in a constant battle to keep up and overtake the team and get shots.  A hard work shoot but very worthwhile as I got many different angles.  Some of the more exciting ones coming from the air.  Flying my Quadcopter twice a day over the water was one of my most adrenaline filled parts of the descent for me.  It does not float and is not waterproof.  Have a watch below.

Shorter version for youtube and Facebook 3.30mins

Longer version for websites of the full 4 day descent 8.40mins

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You GOT TO MOVE, Man!

Rolling Creek Trail, late afternoon.  The trail curved a bit to my right, which was south-west.  I started to hear the water.  After about 10 to 15 yards, the trail headed downward, and I could see Rolling Creek flowing from the west, moving at a good rate of speed.  I stopped when I reached the creek, took a knee, dipped my left hand down into the icy cold water, and splashed my face a few times.  I know that some fellas have their system conditioned in such a way that they can actually drink the water from the fast-moving creeks.  I don’t understand that; and I do not foresee that happening with me anytime in the near future.  But dousing my face with water from the Rolling Creek has never been a problem.

I remember a professor who said this, my paraphrase:

“I would much rather my students drink from a rushing creek, than from a pool of stagnant water.”

What he was talking about, when I first heard those words, was his integrity as a teacher.  “Prepare for the teaching you will be doing for your students.  They deserve nothing less.  If you do not come prepared, they will know it, even if you don’t know … that you are ill prepared.”

The moving creek, versus the stagnant pool.

We have to keep moving.  No way around it.

Indiana Wilder Man, The Septic Of Doom !!!

A map and a mysterious letter arrived in the mail from Egypt, a professor asking me to consult with him on a dig.  He warned me that a band of zealots were attempting to stop him from continuing with the dig.  The professor described them as notorious and obnoxious; known as “Asmemeken Aguibeha”: English translation, “Bring it”. 

*Note: it is important to keep in mind my “WMS”.  “WMS” stands for “Walter Mitty Syndrome”, also known as “IOE”, “Issues of Exaggeration”.   

I could not find my fedora, my bull whip, my khakis, my leather jacket, and that strange-looking bag with a shoulder strap that I put archaeological finds in.  Without my profoundly important gear, I almost scrapped the adventure …

 But

. . . that was not an option.  Guys who heroically go in (usually at night, not really), an extraction team, TAP (Tube And Pump) with a state-of-the-art tank on the back of the truck, were to arrive on Thursday @ 3pm.  No fedora?  No bull whip? No khakis?  No leather jacket?  No strange-looking bag with a shoulder strap that I put archaeological finds in?  No map?  “Too bad,” I told myself.     I had shovel, pick-axe, water …

And, I had one clue: two (2) black ropes sticking out of the ground, approximately 18″.  Legend has it that King Tut had placed those ropes deep in the ground to guard the precious secrets of the underground. 

When I first heard about this sobering story, I said to myself:

“Seriously?  What a bunch of NONSENSE!  What … I was born yesterday?”

So, the dirt was stacked against me; or, maybe they were cards … I did not know.  But, I am Indiana Wild Man, and this is what I do, when I am not eating chocolate chip cookies and drinking black coffee … very, very, black coffee.  And, I also look like Indiana Jones.  Then again, maybe not.

http://bucketreviews.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/2008_indiana_jones_4_004.jpg

I had to dig down two feet of dirt to uncover the concrete caps of the septic tank.  I knew a man in Kabul, who would provide me with more information about this archaelogical dig, and get me the supplies I needed: ropes, sherpas, food, water balloons, chocolate-chip cookies, and … most importantly … black coffee; very, black coffee.  Unfortunately, he was a Kabul-in-a-china-closet, and he had just experienced an episode.  The secret police were watching my friend.  So, I never made it to Kabul.  I’m not sure why I even mentioned it.

Once the tomb of insufferable stink was uncovered, I knew … as Indiana Wilder Man… that the septic of doom must stay sealed until the guys from the service showed up, otherwise the earth might rip off of it’s axis and hurl into the sun.  Fire-breathing humming birds could possibly storm the Rocky Mountain Mountain Region.  And I would have to live with such an agonizing guilt.

This was truly a hair-raising adventure, which was good, because my hair is quite thin, up on top.  And, this dig … at the Septic of Doom … required super-human strength.  But, I am Indiana Wilder Man, and  a chartered member of a group called “Asmemeken Aguibeha”. 

“Bring It.”