Santa suits can show true meaning of season

Column published in The Lima News, 12-17-05
Thank goodness for the innocent belief of children this time of year.
Only they have the love in their hearts to see the true meaning in Christmas when they see a Santa Claus on every corner.
If you spend any time walking through a mall this time of year, and most of us must at some point, you realize how hard it is to avoid ol’ St. Nick. He peaks out from nearly every advertisement. He hawks toys at the toy store as easily as spatulas at the home goods one.
And they all look different.
You’d think that would be confusing to a young child. A 4-year-old child runs only to the arms of her mother, after all, and can cer-tainly tell the difference between one old man claiming to be Father Christmas and the next.
Somehow they see behind the different facial features. They ignore a real beard vs. a fake beard. They don’t care if he has blue eyes or brown. He can be black as easily as white or any other shade in between.
That’s not what the children see.
They see generosity.
They see compassion.
They see love.
In short, they see God.
It’s not popular to say you see God nowadays. There’s a tendency to substitute out the word “Christmas” and use “holidays” instead, for fear of offending a non-Christian religion.
Most major religions acknowledge there probably was a Jesus Christ, though. Those same religions generally acknowledge He was a good person and something of a prophet. Acting like Him isn’t the worst idea in the world, no matter what your ideas might be of the Christian religions.
Which brings us back to Santa Claus or whatever other term you might like for the guy in the big red suit. His heritage generally traces back to St. Nicholas, the bishop of Myra in Asia Minor, in what is now Turkey. He supposedly came from a wealthy family but gave all his money to the poor.
The Dutch introduced the red suit with their Sinterklaas, who wore a red bishop’s costume including the large cap.
Over time, society transformed him into a jolly old elf who kindly delivers toys to all the good boys and girls in the world.
Some see a Santa on every corner as a sign secularism and sacrilege somehow took over the spirit of the Christmas season. Certainly the season took on a more economic tone than originally planned, but the basis remains love and charity for your fellow man.
If anything, the Santas on every corner prove the true meaning of the season is as pure now as it was when a baby laid in a manger some 2,000-plus years ago, if only to those who realize the power of the jolly old elf.
Children universally love him, and they know the importance of believing in Santa Claus. Even the ones who run and scream from him understand what he stands for; his presence just somehow terrifies them.
They know they’re seeing generosity, compassion and love personified in every face. They’re seeing God in every face. They under-stand the overwhelming concept of omnipresence unflinchingly.
We spend so much time teaching our children what’s wrong or what’s right. Now is a good time to start learning from them.

Modern-day nomads find their way home

Column published in The Lima News, 12-7-05
They wander from place to place, trying to make the most from the places they stay.
They may keep some communications with their homelands, by phone, e-mail or letters. They go off on their own, trying to make the most of their lives and find fulfillment.
They are the modern-day nomads. Instead of living off the land for as long as they can and moving, though, they live off a job and an area as long as they can until restlessness and homesickness drive them onward.
Author Steven K. Roberts calls them “technomads,” a nomadic person who remains connected through communications media. The rest of society may call them sisters, cousins or friends. Another term may be simply graduates.
There’s a constant concern about “brain drain” in this area. People wonder aloud what future their children might have, as there aren’t so many entry-level positions here for a well-educated student as there are well-educated students. They’ll go off to college, only to find they’re overqualified for most of the jobs where they were born. They’ll find seemingly far-off places to work in engineering, law or some other seemingly exotic profession.
The good news is it’s merely seemingly. In reality, the nomadic lifestyle seems to be quite temporary. As the clichés scream, there’s no place like home. These nomads do find their way back to a place they’ll call home.
You can drink the sweet tea and listen to the men howl about “them Dawgs” (the Georgia ones) in Savannah while admiring the ar-chitecture in the Civil War-era buildings downtown.
You can roam up and down the beautiful Shenandoah Valley in Virginia, sipping on the wines from the local vineyards and enjoying the breathtaking view of the bluish mountains leaping from the ground.
You can soak up the big-city life outside Columbus, traveling to Polaris for good shopping and food or heading to the old Horseshoe to watch the Buckeyes beat Michigan.
You can go all over the country and experience new and different things. Even the modern-day nomad feels the urge to find a place to call home, though.
That’s how it is for so many people of the 30-something generation, those folks too young to be X but not quite hip enough to be Y. You want to spread your wings and fly, and you do so for years and years. Eventually, though, that empty nest beckons you back.
You find yourself missing the little things in life. There’s no replacement for the loving hug of a young niece or nephew. Few things calm you as much as your father telling the car repair won’t be that expensive as he glances down on the engine. No feeling quite compares to the memories flowing back when you drive past your grandparents’ former home.
These things draw young, talented people back to this marvelous section of Ohio, whether you call it Northwest Ohio or West Cen-tral Ohio. This is home for many of us. There’s a comfortable feeling from knowing the back ways to your favorite places. There’s warmth in the memories from seeing the restaurant from your first date.
You can’t market these traits or put them on a postcard, for they’re as varied as the population here.
These memories and these warm feelings are just what it takes to bring a nomad back home. It may take four years of wandering, or it may take a lifetime of wandering, but eventually we all find our way back to where we belong.

Repentant Solich?

Those T-shirts always made me laugh at my alma mater of Ohio University in Athens: "We're a drinking town with a football problem."

Who knew those two paths would ever cross so meagerly? Ohio football coach Frank Solich pleaded no contest to drunken driving on Monday after being found slumped over the wheel of the complimentary Nissan he drives, with the vehicle in drive, pointing the wrong way down a one-way street. See the Associated Press story.

The 61-year-old coach admitted on Tuesday he made a mistake. Perhaps it's just my word-aholism, but something about the sentence structure bothers me from this quote reported by Jason Arkley of the Athens Messenger:

“I would like to extend that apology, certainly because of the trouble and embarrassment that I’ve put many people in, including myself,” said a solemn-looking Solich, reading from a hand-written note. “I would like to apologize to all those associated with Ohio University. I would also like to apologize to the people of the Athens community. I would like to apologize to my coaches, their families, the players and their families.”

"I would like" is the part that bothers me. There is a not-so-subtle difference between telling your loved one "I'd like to apologize" and "I'm sorry." One is saying you will do it. The other is asking for forgiveness.

Athens has a unique culture that's admittedly very alcohol-driven. Yeah, it's ranked as the No. 2 party school in the country by the Princeton Review. Back in my days there, it constantly made top five on a number of lists. For a decent slice-of-life about this, check of this article by Joe Arnold of the Lancaster Eagle-Gazette.

The administration there seems to want to connect Solich to their efforts to correct this trend. They want him to become active in some intelligent drinking campaigns. (Advice for the coach... Tell them not to leave the car in drive while facing the wrong way down a one-way street.)

Truth be told, the kids are smarter than the coach on this count. Anyone who ever lived in Athens will tell you that you don't drive to the bars uptown. You walk. He certainly could've made the trip from uptown to his office at Peden Stadium with a minimum amount of hassle. It's not like he doesn't have a parking space in town.

I'm not going to come down from Mount Olympus on Frank Solich. I see a lot of sportswriters are cracking the whip at the university for not being harder on him, possibly firing him. I've been out drinking with enough sportswriters to know they've done the same thing. I've gotten behind the wheel after having a beer or two too many myself.

Besides, I like what Solich did for the program. He got me excited enough to buy season tickets. I had a great time watching competitive games for three of the five home games, including a shockingly thrilling win against a then-top 25 Pittsburgh squad.

Honestly, I don't think drinking is such a horrible thing, when kept under control. I haven't seen people coming out of the woodwork to say Solich had a real drinking problem. It sounds like he had one bad night where he did something stupid. I imagine the Nebraska administration has had a couple of those nights since essentially dumping Solich to get Bill Callahan. (Tom Osborne he's not.)

The real key is to learn and forgive. The man made a mistake. No one should hold anything over his head. We should merely take this as a reminder to be careful and smarter when we consume ourselves.

That's the only way the city of Athens, Ohio, can strip itself of the title of a "drinking town with a football problem."

Good-luck charm

My favorite NFL team, the Chicago Bears, extended their winning streak to seven games with a 13-10 win against Tampa Bay on Sunday.

It's a remarkable winning streak that puts the Bears up with the second-best record in the NFC at 8-3, and they lead the NFC North. They haven't lost since a 20-10 loss at Cleveland on Oct. 9.

Or, as I like to think of it, my favorite team hasn't lost since my first date with Jessica on Oct. 14. Apparently the stars are aligned for my happiness via my lady friend and my favorite football team. How's that for miracles?

What's most impressive about this connection is I'm not the one who realized it. Jessica mentioned it when she heard the Bears' streak was at seven wins in a row. We're joking that the Bears will probably only lose now on weekends where we've had some sort of tiff. So here's hoping the Bears never lose another game again.

Revisiting the man in the mirror

My 30th birthday came and went a couple weeks ago. I kept thinking about how I'd commemorate the occasion on the blog, what life-changing revelations I could share. Then I remembered something I wrote to mark my last big occasion, college graduation. [See "Some college lessons shouldn't be learned," The Post, 5-22-1997]

At the time, I was 21 years old and preparing to graduate from college. Little did I know I had three and a half years in Lima, failed journeys to Savannah and Delaware and a delightful three years in Northern Virginia ahead of me. I just wanted whatever I thought might make me happy.

What might I say to that man in the mirror today? What wisdom could I pass along to the 21-year-old me, whose legacy left at OU was a "mythical, wise-cracking, cynical shell of a man"?

Don't change for anyone.

That man tried too hard to turn into someone else, someone more acceptable by his peers. Bits of pieces of his true self remained there, no doubt. But the modern me spent much of his 20s recapturing the 1994 self, with his idealism, his occasional charm, his friendly awkwardness. I've realized it's OK to not fit into a group.

I've also realized wonderful friends last a lifetime, so long as you put the effort into keeping them. Sometimes I've failed at this, but the really good ones will always welcome you back.

Most of all, and oddly enough most recently, I've discovered there's a person out there who will love you for exactly who you are. The path to find that person can be challenging and frustrating. You'll give up several times between here and there. Once you find her, though, never let her go. Soulmates are hard to come by, and the best you can do is try to show her every day just how much she means to you.

It's funny how your perceptions of a milestone can change on a dime. A month and a half ago, I was dreading 30 like the plague. College had been about finding out who I was. The 20s had been about refining who I was. The 30s looked like a desperate era of loneliness and mourning that things didn't work out as you'd planned.

Now I have a better understanding of the purpose for my 30s. I'll spend each day trying to share more of myself with the people I care about.

A line from that 1997 column caught my attention again: "The only goal in his life is to be missed when he is gone." That's just as true now as it was when it was written some eight years ago, yet its meaning is so different now. At that point, it was superficial, wanting to be missed for my work accomplishments. Now it has meaning. Now I want to be missed for who I am and how I've affected the lives around me.

I'm off to a good start, and I'm looking forward to making the most of this new decade of life.

Blog comments spam

Apparently no place is sacred from spam.

I've seen three "comments" recently on here that turned out to be 100 percent spam, and I don't mean that meaty sandwich stuff you get from a can. It's a little bit frustrating, and I'm not entirely sure what to do about it.

Apparently I'm not alone, though. One man suggests following these links but not buying anything there.

It's somewhat interesting to read about. I enjoyed reading this link, Spamalot as a Blogosphere Epidemic. It estimates as much as 50 percent of comments may be spam.

I have the option of turning comments off or making it so I have to approve them before they hit the Web site. I've activated the "word verification," one of those annoying things where you have to type what combination of letters you see in order to keep the bad guys out.

I'm certainly in favor of freedom of speech, but I have my doubts whether these unprovoked spam attacks really qualify as that in this little corner of the universe.

Perfect

The single kiss set off the most amazing chain of reactions.

Typically the mind only thinks of two or three things, and they're generally pretty ordinary. But with that one kiss, the imagination begins wandering so rapidly.

In a matter of a tenth of a second, the past, the future and the present all mingle. You start to think about everything that could happen.

Most of all, you feel that rare combination of happiness and optimism. It's a feeling I hope to experience more in the not-so-distant future.

Maturing or mellowing

A real man often finds his best moments in his worst moments. A terribly frustrating set of events has me wondering if I'm maturing or mellowing, not that either would be terribly bad.

On Tuesday, a company from Dallas closed its deal on the large, empty factory in Ottawa. I had the head's up this was happening and worked through the appropriate channels to get a one-one-one, face-to-face interview with the manager of the LLC doing the deal about 10 minutes after he signed everything. Knowing this was a big deal for the community and a likely A1 story, I lined up a photographer, giving them all the relevant information about the company, the guy, etc. Unfortunately, I did not give the relevant information that we were the only ones who knew about this.

By some strange coincidence, one of the local TV stations happened to be in Ottawa this same Tuesday afternoon, standing in front of an office on Main Street not too far from where the photographer and I would meet the Dallas big-shot. When our photography intern arrived and saw them standing there, they asked why she was in town. She assumed ishe assumed they were there for the same purpose and mentioned the story, essentially handing a big, breaking story to our competition.

One of my sources called to tell me about this before I arrived and put our photographer on the phone. She was devastated. She felt horrible for what she'd accidentally done.

Back in a day not so long ago, I would've torn her apart. I've made people cry when they've worked with me before. I can take things very seriously and not always be that considerate.

Now, though, I think that might just be a different version of me. As much to my surprise as anyone else's, I tried to comfort her. I told her not to worry about it; that we'd do a better job on it than TV would. I told her the best way to rebound from this was to get some incredible photographs to illustrate the story.

Yesterday one of my sources who saw this commended me for how I handled it. He said he wasn't sure he would've been so understanding. And, truth be told, I wouldn't have been just a few years ago.

Tuesday could have been one of my worst moments. I could have launched into an understandable tirade and really made a fool of myself. Instead, I showed a side of myself I hope to see even more often in the future.

I do have a life

It just occurred to me that I've been writing a bit more about work lately than I once did. It made me question whether I had a life outside of work or not.

I do. It's pretty fruitful. It's pretty interesting. There's a lot going on with it. I just haven't felt the urge to vent about it on here.

That's probably a good thing, since I'm now aware there are more people reading this who might've been a part of that "life" thing in the past month or two who probably would rather not read about my thinking in some decisions, i.e. the decision to break up with a girl I'd been seeing for almost a month. Some things are probably best left unsaid.

Says the guy who wants people to tell him everything. I'm such a hypocrite sometimes.

Hatcing another pun-laden story

I went back to the pun factory the other day as the infamous chicken citation case came to a close. See "Judge cracks egg-cruciating controversy," or, as the headline in the newspaper said, "Judge cries fowl, dismisses nuisance case."
This story churned up something of an interesting debate in my mind. How much should you count on your local newspaper to entertain you? Is it possible to entertain and inform at the same time? Is it ethical?

These are intriguing questions. My thought is that you can't make fun of a story unless someone on either side is willing to do so too. In this case, people on both sides understand it's a silly thing about which to fight. There are larger, more important issues in the world.

But at its heart, it's a story that applies to everyone... What can you do with your own property? What rights do you give up to be a good neighbor? What rights do a village or city have to control what you do with your private property?

Personally, I'm glad I went the pun route. For one, I don't get to be funny in print very often ever since I moved out of sports. For two, I think the silliness of the writing made people read all the way through and think about the issues. If I'd played it straight, I really doubt it ever would've gotten as much statewide attention as it did.

And really, isn't making people want to read the story and learn about their world my job? If it takes a chicken pun or two to do it, so be it.

Protecting the innocent

Covering trials strikes me as one of the public services a newspaper serves for its readers. We'll keep people abreast of what's happening in their communities, so they can be aware of the dangers and threats around them.

For the first time today, I heard my publication's name directly mentioned in a court proceeding, in a rather unflattering way. It involved a mother whose husband raped their eldest child repeatedly over a four-year period, which made for three days of absolutely stomach-turning testimony late last month.

The mother, while giving a victim impact statement, brought up our paper's coverage of the trial as part of the harassment and trouble her husband's actions caused. She sent a similar letter to the editor of our newspaper about two weeks ago, criticizing our callous coverage of the event and suggesting we should have either skipped the trial or covered it without identifying her husband to "protect the innocent."

The theory is, in a small county like this, that people know one another's parents. While we never used the girl's name (she's still a minor, mind you), using her father's name and address identified her to her peers. She believed we were heartless people who couldn't resist the attention-grabbing story and selling papers.

This bothered me, and still does, for a variety of reasons. Rape is very disturbing to hear about in graphic detail, whether you know the victim or not. It didn't help that this girl had the same name as one of my nieces. I literally had trouble sleeping the week of that trial, and the girl's impact statement nearly brought me to tears as she talked about refusing to give a victim impact statement and instead wanted to give a "survivor impact statement." (And, for those who know me, moving me to tears is not easy.)

I also don't see the sense in protecting the identity of the defendant. He's been convicted of gruesome, horrid acts. There's no reason he should be protected from them.

I understand being angry and confused and perhaps embarassed about this incident. But rape is one of the few crimes in America where we still seem to hold the victim accountable somehow. I don't see how we can ever break through that belief until we begin standing up with the victims and reminding people that they're not guilty of anything. They ARE victims. They deserve the same respect as a victim of a theft, a murder or any other type of assault would get.

Another issue involving this case made it a bit ironic to me. The girl saw an episode of Oprah about rape which helped motivate her to tell someone about what her dad did. Now her family complained about her story coming out at well. I can only hope that her courage can lead to another girl's courage to help end a similar situation. If that happens, I'll proudly accept any insults the family cares to heave at the heartless and thoughtless media coverage.

I'm not dead... promise

It's been a while since I've posted. It's not so much that nothing's happened... in fact, quite a bit has. It's just been difficult to find the time -- and energy -- to opine in here. I'll try to be better.

Teach the world to 'chill'?

"I'd like to teach the world to chill, take time to stop and smile / I'd like to buy the world a Coke and chill with it awhile."

I heard these lyrics tonight during an advertisement prior to a movie. I shall save the rant about advertisements before movies, which I paid to enter, at another time. For the time being, though, I'd like to stand up and say I'm sick of the whole retro movement, especially if they're going to ruin it for the benefit of promoting something called "Coke Zero," which is roughly the amount of interest I have in this product.

Obviously these lyrics harken back to the "Hilltop" scene Coke made famous in 1971. It came at a time when the world had some unifying to do, and it involved people who looked vastly different, standing next to each other. They sang about wanting to teach the world to sing and live in perfect harmony in a time that was less than harmonious.

Now they're talking about the need to "chill," which, as far as I understand it, means doing absolutely nothing and being happy about it. I'm not against chilling, but I do hate it when we try so hard to harken back to something from a previous generation that we'll rewrite perfectly good songs. What happened to original thoughts?

Of course, since I'm ripping on original thoughts, I might as well rip on myself. I found the following other bloggers who wanted to talk about the Coke chill maneuver:
Philadelphia: Teach the World to Sing
Teaching the World to Sing
G-Love Teaches the World to Chill
Adland
Partially True Adventures of High Adventure

I suppose you get the idea. Now it's time for me to chill, man. Teaching the world to sing in perfect harmony is so 70s. I need my me time.

Bad judgments

Tonight I went out with some friends who appeared to need a little prompting to improve their social standings. In each case, a male friend offered some intrigue to a lady in the establishment where we imbibed. In each case, I offered suggestions to help.

Case 1: Gentleman who broke up with his long-time girlfriend. Advice: If you're ready, get back on that horse. Talk to that girl who intrigues you. Ignored the advice the first time. Later changed his goal to a different young lady, who happily talked to him for nearly half an hour. Conversation later ended with this woman hanging on another guy. Declared a failure.

Case 2: Gentleman who showed some interest in a female anchor(ette?) of a local TV station. Gentleman spoke with her earlier in the evening, and she seemed engaged. Encouraged the gentleman to be mroe aggressive in his pursuit. Later ended with him asking her out, to hear "no." Declared a failure.

Case 3: Gentleman who showed some interest in a woman within our group. Gentleman truly missed his opportunity several months ago. Encouraged the gentleman to pursue this option in particular, in part because of indirect ramifications from Case 1. He did speak with her, but he didn't offer a full-go effort. Declared a draw.

So tonight, I feel somewhat responsible for three friends feeling worse than they had to, in part because they went after things. What's odd about this is I often try to convince myself I should pursue possibilities that a nagging voice in my head says might be unattainable.

Nagging voice in my head: 3. David: 0.

Aren't I punny?

Every so often, you run across a news story that permits some silliness and cleverness.

Such is the case when you're writing a story about someone challenging a chicken citation in a small town.

To save yourself the trouble of looking, the following puns were abused:
- fowl mood
- playing chicken
- fine feathered friends
- felt plucky
- hen-pecked
- place to roost
- hatched a theory
- crack open their arguments
- egg on their faces

It might not be the most pun-ridden writing I've ever done. I still attribute that to another story about a girls basketball team in Bluffton that arranged ducks in the coach's yard the night before games. But it's close, and it's gotten some chuckles in my neighborhood.

Pickup lines

While surfing the Web tonight, I stopped by "The Most Complete and Most Useless Collection of Pick-Up Lines." I was looking for some ideas... err, entertainment.

This amusing little Web site lists all of the bad pickup lines ever used. It also has categories claiming successes. You take it for what it's worth.

Here are a few that amused me:
- Rejection can lead to emotional stress for both parties involved and emotional stress can lead to physical complications such as headaches, ulcers, cancerous tumors, and even death! So for my health and yours, JUST SAY YES!
- Be unique and different, say yes.
- Help the homeless. Take me home with you.
- Pardon me miss, I seem to have lost my phone number, could I borrow yours?
- Are you accepting applications for your fan club?

As for me, well, I've never tried using a pickup line before. Given my fine record of success, maybe I shold try.

Downside of working at home

Most of the week, I have the pleasure of doing my job from home. It just makes sense, since I live in the area I cover for the newspaper. It's easier to do a good job if you're actually in the place you cover, since you'll see people and things as they happen.

I've discovered the downside in the last few hot afternoons. When you come back home and go to the fridge to get an icy cold beverage... it's awful hard to look at the beer and say "no." It ends up being the same little dance each day. I'll be back here around 3:30 or 4 with a bit of a thirst. I'll look in the fridge. I know the pop's up top in my fridge and the beer's on the bottom shelf. Still, I'll look down there. Then I'll look at the clock on the microwave and think, "Shoot. I'm still on the clock. No beer for now."

So I guess when it comes right down to it, the downside of working at home is I can't drink alcohol while I'm on the clock. I'm guessing I'd have that problem in the office too...

Lazy or philanthropic?

Now that I'm living closer to my family again, I've started taking advantage of it. I've begun hiring my nieces to come to my apartment and clean for me.

This past weekend, I had two of them, Katie and Desirae, over to work their magic. They're both in their early teens, and they're excited to make $20 for stuff they're supposed to do at home anyway.

When the proposition started a few weeks ago with Katie, I thought I was just being a wizz-bang uncle. I would've loved the opportunity to earn some cash when I was that age, and for the amount of work they're doing, they're making a little over $6 an hour.

Then lately I just started wondering... am I just lazy?

I'm sticking with philanthropic.

You and your beautiful soul

There are still good people out there, those people who are thoughtful and selfless. You forget that sometimes, as you deal with person after person with agendas and motives they keep hidden just below the surface.

Take the story of Krystal Byrne, a local 19-year-old woman with leukemia. I think most people could understand if she were a little selfish, with life or death on the line. Instead, this is what she said:
---
Krystal Byrne recognized the odds of finding a donor were slim. Out of 6 million people in the national bone marrow registry, she didn’t positively match with anyone. She remained optimistic as another friendly stranger walked through the door, eager to be tested.

“Whether they’re saving my life or someone else’s, someone in this building will be a hero to someone,” she said.
---
Every so often, even a cynical, sarcastic old goat like me can be reminded that angels still walk among us.

Credits...

I was watching "Field of Dreams" on TV tonight. It's one of those movies that grabs me whenever I see it on TV, with the mysticism, the dreaming, the idealism. It's all very powerful to something inside of me.

I saw a joke in there tonight I never noticed before.

In the closing credits, the last acting credit went to "The Voice"... as "Himself."

Made me chuckle. Obviously I'm not the first to notice, and there's some special DVD "Easter Egg" with it, described here.

Three Doors Down

Recently discovered that "Three Doors Down" isn't just the name of a band... it's also the worst possible way to move.

My brother, his fiancee and her kids are moving down the street from one home to another. In general, you might expect a short move to be an easier move for the hired guns, such as myself, to move items.

In general, that might be true. But there are some things you might not think about relocating unless you were only moving a few doors down. Take, for instance, a treated-lumber jungle gym for the kids.

It was a thing of beauty, and I'm sure the children loved it. But that puppy was heavy. We tore it down into several pieces, yet it still wore us down.

I have a feeling my arms are going to be sore for a number of days from when we tried to detach the wood holding the swings from the remainder of this piece of playground equipment. It was easy to hold it up... until it became detached, at which point you realize just how heavy-duty this thing must've been.

But, to put a smiley face on the whole day, everything that needed moved got moved... I fulfilled my brotherly duty of helping out... and I got a free sandwich out of the deal. All in all, not a horrible way to spend a Saturday.

Ice cream topping

Here's the culinary tip of the day...

Try putting granola on top of your ice cream. Especially if you have a plainer ice cream, such as vanilla or butter pecan or something down that line, the granola really adds something. You get that crunchiness, plus some great flavor from the honey-toasted oats, crunch from the nuts and the added benefit of some raisins.

I decline to answer how many other bizarre foods I've poured on top of ice cream before discovering one that tastes great.

Silly site of the day

In the course of perfectly legitimate work travels on the Internet, sometimes I find amusing little Web sites I believe the world must enjoy.

Click on Make-A-Flake to discover one such site.

On this site, you take an ordinary piece of fictitious paper and cut out chunks to make your very own snowflake. It's pretty cool for those of us who could never cut straight enough to do a good job or unfold ours.

You can see my offering on there. According to the Web site, "You're flake #7637172." I try not to take that as a personal insult, that the Web called me a flake...

I'm a pony

Sometimes simple wordplay makes me say and do amazingly silly things.

I'm suffering from a bit of laryngitis today. I'm generally feeling OK, just my voice is considerably softer and occasionally higher pitched than usual.

I went to the grocery store today. As I checked out, the cashier asked me how I was today.

"I'm a pony today," I responded in a gravely voice punctuated by its softness.

She gave me the strangest look a Wal-Mart cashier probably ever gave a customer. To answer her baffled look, I smiled.

"I'm a little hoarse today."

She just rolled her eyes.

'You care'

Compliments don't usually go to my head, but I heard one tonight that touched pretty deeply.

My niece, Katie, asked me tonight if I'd be her sponsor for confirmation next spring. I asked her why she chose me, and she said, "Because you care." I asked her what she thinks I care about, and she rattled off a list... about church, about my family, about her.

That's some compliment, when you think about it. Never mind the fact she's asking me to help her on that personal journey from being a child in the Catholic church to being an adult. Just to hear someone recognize that you care is something undescribable. I often pray for the guidance to do the right thing and to follow the path God sets before me. To hear a 14-year-old say she notices it, that's wonderful. To hear her say she thinks that makes me suitable to help her, that's even better.

We all hear compliments each day. I liked your story. You look nice today. I appreciate how hard you work. You offer a different perspective on things. You liven things up around here. You get the idea. I'm not sure I'll ever hear a better one than "you care."

Give Benedict a chance

Many more liberal Catholics keep ripping apart the College of Cardinals' selection of Joseph Ratzinger as the replacement as pope for the recently departed John Paul II. To them, I say this: Give Pope Benedict XVI a chance.

I don't know any more or less about him than anyone else does. But I do know the faith teaches us to give people a chance before we judge them.

Yes, he was a part of the Hitler Youth movement in Germany as a child. Like all German children at the time, he didn't have much of a choice. The financial implications for a child's parents were unbearable.

Yes, he was the "enforcer" as the head of the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith. Less than 100 years ago, that organization was called the Sacred Congregation of the Universal Inquisition, one with a dark past.

It was his job, his role to staunchly defend the Catholic faith. That's what that office does, rely on him to conservatively examine church teachings and offer opinions on issues of the day. That doesn't necessarily mean that's how he thinks the church should run, or that he'd turn a deaf ear to God if asked to change anything. It merely means that's what he used to do.

It saddens me to see a universally loved and appreciated figure such as Pope John Paul II, only to have his replacement lambasted by critics already. If he does something that offends you, then it's your right to nit-pick. Thus far, he seems to be doing and saying all the right things, from his promise to keep open relations with the Jewish church to his meek and humble approach to being the 265th pope.

Give him a chance. Judge not, lest ye be judged.

Mapping to the power of X

Sometimes I stumble upon things I find really cool on the Internet, and I like to share those findings with the world at large... which probably already knows about it, merely confirming my own un-hipness.

So tonight's "you probably already know about this, but..." site is Google maps. Before you say you've seen Mapquest and understand how those work, I advise you look at this map for Wrigley Field in Chicago.

It actually shows you a satellite view of whatever you're looking at. It's somewhere between really cool and really creepy, as you can do this to some extent for any map in the world.

It also has typical road maps too, and the ability to search for stuff. It really flies on my cable modem connection; I make no promises for the dial-up crowd.

This thing reminds me a lot of those government spy thrillers, where they're zooming in on the bad guy, screen by screen, until they can see him. Except they don't have zooms that close... yet.

A Good Shepherd

A number of priests and church officials took the occasion of Pope John Paul II's death as an opportunity to tag "the Great" onto his name as a sign of respect for his actions.

To me, nothing speaks better of him than to call him a good shepherd. (THE Good Shepherd, of course, would be Jesus.) He showed us all how to be.

With the Pope's death came many, many reports about his life. The most telling, I think, is the story of Mehmet Ali Agca, the Turkish gunman who shot the Pope on May 13, 1981. See Pope's forgiveness of Agca provided a powerful example.




The most amazing thing I've ever seen a man do was forgive. Pope John Paul II met with Mehmet Ali Agca two years after the assassination attempt and forgave him. He blessed him and forgave him.

What an incredible lesson for us all to learn from this truly holy man. He forgave the very man who tried to take his life. If anyone ever followed the gospel about forgiving someone, this Pope did.

How many gripes live on for too long in your life? How many people do you need to forgive? How much capacity for love is there in your heart?

The Pope provided his church and the world a moral compass. The Pontiff didn't change his opinions to suit the time or the place. There were no situational ethics for John Paul II, only right and wrong, good and evil. I already miss the absoluteness he provided in a world that occasionally feels bankrupt of morality.

I won't claim to speak for Catholics everywhere, nor will I claim to speak for Americans everywhere. People do have their disagreements with the church. But for this much there can be no disagreement: Pope John Paul II was a good, loving man, and we all should thank God for the time we could follow this good shepherd.

Safe driving

I stayed late at my parents' house while visiting Thursday night, getting the typical "be careful" from my mom as I left.

"Don't worry," I responded. "At this hour, all that's out there at this hour are narcoleptics and drunks. I'm neither, so I should have an advantage against them."

Looking for a male-to-male SVGA cable

I am a geek.

Whew. I feel a lot better getting that off my chest.

I spent my Sunday wandering through the aisles of the Lucas County Recreation Center looking for a monitor switch and a male-to-male SVGA cable. Those were parts I'd convinced myself I needed so I could really get into my hobby of taking apart old computers and salvaging the good parts. The trouble generally is you end up having several boxes open at the same time and hate swapping the monitor from one to the other.

I warned you I was a geek.

It's an interesting experience, though, walking through the aisles at a Ham Fest, named as such because a ham radio club sponsored it. My dad genuinely wanted to look at the ham radio stuff, and I preferred looking at the computer parts.

Here's the point to make from this experience: You don't have any junk. You only have things that someone else might want. It was amusing to see all these old parts I'd long since thrown out laying on people's tables, hoping someone would pay $2 for an old 586 processor chip or $1 for a gender-changing DB25 gadget.

I really did warn you I was a geek.

Just to clear up that gender-changing thing, and also the title of this entry... You can't say electronics folks don't have an imagination. Think of a cable that hooks to your computer. One half has the pins that stick out. That's the male side. Then think of where it plugs into. That's the female side. Those wild, wacky engineers...

Ice Classic 2005!

I looked out on the ice and leaned to the guy next to me, saying, "I won't tell anyone you were here if you don't tell anyone I was here."

That's the short version of how I'd describe Ice Classic 2005, a skating show I witnessed Friday with people I know who I won't identify because of the above-stated agreement. (I'm backdating this entry.) The theme of this was "On the Town," where they pretended to go to different venues in a city that must not have been Findlay, given the salsa club, ballet and the paparazi they described.

There are many things that would probably be cool if you bring your children. This would probably be one of them. Like many uncommon experiences, it was interesting for about an hour. As someone who can't even roller skate without planting myself into a tree, you must marvel at the grace of young people who can do so many incredible things.

I'm not a parent, though, and before long I turned into that annoying guy who makes wisecracks about everything I see.

Two things were genuinely entertaining: They had this professional guy who realized ice skating could be funny. So he dressed up like Cartman from South Park and sang along as Cartman performed "Sailing." Hilarious. Later in the show, he did a pretty amusing routine based on Richard Simmons' "Sweating to the Oldies." Also amusing.

There are other things that were funny that probably weren't to those involved. Kids falling on the ice shouldn't be hilarious. I'll submit this, though: If you're going to charge me $8 to show off how well you can stay upright, I reserve the right to laugh when you can't.

The greatest of these mishaps came during the ballet portion, when they performed an abbreviated "Sleeping Beauty." The king and queen laid Sleeping Beauty to rest on a bench near the curtain. A little later, the girl playing the fairy tried skating backwards toward the exit, falling over the bench and the beauty. They quickly moved the bench and Sleeping Beauty about three feet to the side so it wouldn't happen again.

I like to find morals to the story in any life situation, so here's the one I discovered: Be sure to look where you're going. You never know when there might be a princess under a sleeping spell near the exit.

Finding your way

The snow began piling up on the road again tonight, challenging the drivers to do their best to stay on the right path.

A funny trend happens when the heavy downfall is fresh, before a plow can come by to show the way. Each person follows the tracks set forth ahead of them, hopeful they lead to the destination. Each person prays the person in front knows where to go and how to get there, even though the odds are just as good they could lead you into a ditch.

Every so often, I like to look up from the path set before me and look at my guides. While you drive, you can see the mailboxes on the side of the rural roads, reminding you where the road should take you. Often you'll think you're safely in your own lane, doing what you must do, when you'll look up at the mailboxes and realize you're dangerously close to straying left of center.

How often do we all do this in our lives? How often do we stare at the path ahead of us and blindly follow it without thinking about where it goes or who put it there before us? How often do we look up to our guideposts on either side to remind ourselves to stay centered?

Must be doing something right

A couple days ago, I got off the phone at work with someone who wasn't too happy about some of the reporting I've been doing lately. This whole CIC thing has some people pretty worked up. This guy told me I'd better be careful, since people (including him) were looking for reasons to get me fired.

About five minutes later, our editor walked back to my desk and congratulated me on the job I've been doing. He told me he'll be putting a bonus in my paycheck and to keep up the good work.

A day later, I spent about 10 minutes on the phone with a man who told me I was "a great American and a patriot" for these same stories that the other guy told me I should be fired for writing.

I figure you must be doing something right when you can elicit that strong of feelings from both sides on any issue. Really it's the best compliment a journalist can get.

Another way of looking at it came from a source, who hasn't been too thrilled with some of the things I've written lately. He told me the other day, "I don't like what you've been writing, but it's always been accurate and unbiased. So I have to give you that much."

I had some concerns when I got out of sports and back into news that I might not be able to do the "hard" stories. Apparently I worried for nothing. Now I'll just have to see if I can keep my job long enough to do something that matters...

Just to clarify: I'm not worried about losing my job. I'm mostly flattered that my ability to uncover some level of truth is enough to make people wish I'd go away. My boss asked me to document these "threats," just in case, but I'll just tuck them away as backhanded compliments instead.

Truth, justice and the American way

I'm feeling like I did something important today. In the grand scheme of things, all I did was cause a headache for some people who were going to circumvent the Ohio Open Meetings Act. But I still feel like I did something that mattered. I'll paste my story since it's not on our Web site quite yet.

BREAKOUT:
ON THE WEB
To read about the Ohio Sunshine Laws, go to http://www.ag.state.oh.us/online_publications/2004_yellow_book.pdf. Find valid reasons for executive sessions under the Open Meetings Act in “Seven Different Types of Executive Sessions.”

Headline: CIC members decline discussion in open meeting

By DAVID TRINKO
dtrinko@limanews.com
419-993-2098

OTTAWA — Board members for the Putnam County Community Improvement Corp. came to the commissioners’ office to chat Wednesday.
They weren’t so eager to have the public hear what they had to say, though.
“If we can’t keep it out of the newspaper, I’ll say we need to cancel the meeting,” CIC President Stan Schneck said.
Schneck, Edna Michel and Jim Russell walked out of a scheduled meeting Wednesday after the commissioners declined to go into executive session to discuss the county’s issues with the CIC, which it dropped as the county’s economic coordinator last summer.
Executive sessions legally exclude the public from proceedings, but the situation must meet one of seven specific standards. The Public Records Act and found in Attorney General Jim Petro’s “An Ohio Sunshine Laws Update 2004 Edition” describes its proper use.
The CIC has two pending lawsuits against the county commissioners, both scheduled for their first court appearances in early March.
In the past month, the commissioners met to discuss CIC-related topics eight different times with members of the business community or the CIC itself, according to the commissioners’ meeting calendar. They entered into executive session four times, using the topic “conference with attorney for public body to discuss pending or imminent court action.”
In each of those executive sessions, the commissioners’ attorney, Prosecutor Gary Lammers, joined the group in executive session. Lammers was out of the county Wednesday.
“We’d need Gary to discuss pending or imminent lawsuits,” Commissioner Vincent Schroeder said. “That doesn’t mean we can’t still speak like we’ve been doing though.”
Schneck said he worried about derailing the discussion by conducting it in an open meeting.
“I’m not prepared to discuss anything then,” he said. “I don’t think we’re to the point I want it in the newspapers. Until we work out some things, it’s all just discussion.”
The penalty for an illegal executive session includes invalidating the decisions made in a session or even removal of an officeholder.
“If you read through these, there’s nothing that really applies with negotiations with an organization outside of this office,” Schroeder said.
Commissioner Tom Price added, “We just don’t want to do anything wrong.”
Discussions between the county government and the CIC appear to be moving along well.
During a meeting Tuesday night, CIC Director Martin Kuhlman and new Putnam County Economic Development Coordinator Lee Schroeder expressed optimism they could find “middle ground” in developing a new standard form for enterprise zone agreements. Leipsic officials voiced concerns about some of the language.
Schneck expressed disappointment while commending the recent steps toward resolving the sides’ differences.
“We made so many gigantic steps forward,” Schneck said. “This is going to cause us to go backwards. Time is of an essence. Because of this glitch, it’s delaying things.”

Ugh

I don't do "sick" very well. I've never been one to take a day off from school, or from work, or from life, or from anyplace, really. I generally like to keep doing whatever I should be doing, no matter how miserable I might feel.

That's been difficult the last two days, though, as I suffer through this same rotten cold everyone else in Ohio seems to have right now. Just 10 or 15 minutes of walking around at a time leaves me feeling genuinely exhausted. I took nearly six hours' worth of naps today after sleeping for nearly 11 hours last night. Even for a man who admits he likes sleep, that's a lot.

The hardest part is admitting some microscopic organism can get the best of you. It's hard 'fessing up that clogged sinuses can wipe out you balance and leave you weak in the knees. It stinks admitting you're not up to full capacity.

It does make you appreciate your body more, though. Feeling so achy and sore and stiff reminds me that I should take better advantage of my flexibility and balance when I'ma ble. I should enjoy the ability to run around and have fun. I should enjoy the ability to run up and down the stairs without getting completely exhausted.

All that having been said, it's been nearly an hour since my most recent nap attempt, and I'm exhausted. Time to hit the hay again, in hopes of health when I revive.

You were right

Valentine's Day left me with a number of ideas running through my head, looking for the right way to say them. Somehow this two-year-old idea kept coming forth...
---
You were right. About almost everything, really.

You were right. I do look better in solid-colored shirts.

You were right. I probably should look into dental surgery some day.

You were right. I do tend to find the humor in things, even when they're not truly funny.

You were right. I do hate to be alone.

You were right. I will try to get the last word into every conversation.

You were right. Some day I will want to move closer to my family. I did, and I'm better off for it.

You were right about so much. But you were wrong about me.

You were really wrong when you once said I'd never admit when I was wrong.

I'm not going to swap opinions on things that truly matter to me. I'm not going to forgive and forget where religion's concerned. I'm not going to stick my tail between my legs and come running back to you.

I wish I could stop thinking about you and the things you said. We had a great time together, no doubt. But it ended nearly two years ago. And some days, without warning, it'll just start haunting me... making me wonder what I did wrong... making me reconsider if going separate ways was such a good idea.

But most of all, you were right when you said maybe we were too different to stay together. I miss you all the time, but I know deep down we're both better off apart.

Exhausting and tiring

I haven't been able to update this thing as much as I might like. I've had an exhausting couple days at work.

I just lost a fairly in-depth discussion of the week and what made it tough. Then the window crashed. I don't think I'll try to recreate it. I'll just share links to the finished products. Maybe some other day I'll explain what made them hard.

On Tuesday, I had two fairly time-consuming and emotionally draining stories:

Family in Putnam County mourns soldier's death
Continental voters approve levy; board cuts six teachers

On Sunday, I dealt with FOUR breaking news stories:

Train derails near Cridersville
Montgomery praises students' help
Pearl Harbor activist dies
And a fourth one about a hostage situation in Lima that somehow didn't make the Web.

So you'll forgive me if I feel a little "written out." I have a refreshing weekend in Georgia planned which mixes all the things I like: Friends, ocean and fresh seafood. That should liven me up again...

State of the Man Address

My fellow Americans, we live in a nation of unparalleled liberties. American men today have more options to act like men than in any generation to this point.

I'd like to take this moment to recognize men like David Trinko, of Ottawa, Ohio. On this very evening, he redefined the term "multitasking" for all men everywhere. While sitting on his couch and gnawing on the hard end of a summer sausage, he flipped back and forth between the State of the Union Address and the basketball games on ESPN every time a standing ovation began.

He understood the world sometimes must laugh at itself. During a touching moment in which an Iraqi woman hugged the mother of a slain Marine, he noticed the dogtags of the deceaded freedom-fighter. He thought to himself, "She'd better be careful not to get that caught on the Iraqi woman." Sure enough, once the embrace ended, the two were still united, with that dogtag literally bonding them together.

He also thought about how mocking the State of the Union Address could be fun in everyday life. Tomorrow he'll join his coworkers at a meeting in the newspaper's newsroom. He intends to incite his coworkers to stand up to interrupt the editor's speech occasionally.

It's with great pride that I present to you the State of the Man Address for 2005. May man continue to enjoy life, liberty and the pursuit of a significant other.

Food... or drink... for thought

My new home, Putnam County, Ohio, has something of a reputation as a drinking county. As it turns out, it's well deserved. (See "Survey confirms county's alcohol concerns" in the Lima News.)

Basically, it says 27 percent of the adult population has had five or more drinks in its past 30 days, which the survey considered "binge drinking."

I seem to have a great deal of success finding places with the truly heavy drinkers. Athens, Ohio. Savannah, Ga. Ottawa, Ohio. Is it merely coincidence, or am I a closet party animal?

I'm voting for coincendence.

Drinking capital

My new home, Putnam County, Ohio, has something of a reputation as a drinking county. As it turns out, it's well deserved. (See "Survey confirms county's alcohol concerns" in the Lima News.)

Basically, it says 27 percent of the adult population has had five or more drinks in its past 30 days, which the survey considered "binge drinking."

I seem to have a great deal of success finding places with the truly heavy drinkers. Athens, Ohio. Savannah, Ga. Ottawa, Ohio. Is it merely coincidence, or am I a closet party animal?

I'm voting for coincendence.

No place like home (court)

There's a certain nostalgia about where you grew up and learned about the world. For some people, it's hideous. For others, it's wonderful. For me, it's sort of like that line from the Cheers theme, "where everybody knows your name."

Tonight while visiting my hometown of Arlington, Ohio (population 1,351), my dad and I decided to go to a boys basketball game after discovering there weren't any college games on TV. We returned to the gym there, where I don't believe I've stepped foot since the last Trinko child wore a cap and gown and collected a diploma from AHS some nine years ago.

Arlington basketball isn't the same as it was when I went to school. In short, they're pretty good now. They have a following. We never had that when I was in school. The team went undefeated last year and was ranked No. 1 in the state in Division IV for a long time. Alas, most of those guys graduated.

The Red Devils topped Vanlue in the game, but that's not really the interesting part to me. I'm more surprised by the warm embrace your hometown will give you. I saw a lot of people I recognized and talked to a few. It was nice to be welcomed back and particularly nice to hear the words of people happy I'm back in the area.

It also reminded me that my little town wasn't quite as little as I recalled. I don't know any of the kids on the basketball team. I don't think I know any of their parents. I didn't recognize 75% of the people in the gym.

I'm glad we went, though. Never mind the fact it was a good game between a pair of rather physical teams. It was just nice to return someplace where I felt at home.

Weathering the storm(s)

I don't want to write about the weather. It feels like that's all I've done for the last week for my wages. Instead, I'll just offer links:

Flooding woes continue across region

Heavy rain, melting ice flood region

Friends help powerless people

Falling ice slows power line work

The flooding of the Blanchard River reached to about a block from where I live. Thus, I wasn't directly affected, aside from a little inconvenience while driving.

Icy reception

Naah, this isn't about a girl's reaction to a pickup line of mine. Not this time.

We're in the midst of a full-blown ice storm here in Ottawa today.

Ice is one of Mother Nature's miracles that can frustrate you but also awe you. I was thinking that during one of the four times today I had to chip the frozen rain off my car as I tried to do work assignments.

For a closet math geek like me, there's nothing quite as amazing as watching all the shapes as you're chipping away at that ice. There's also that moment of ridiculous joy when you've finally chipped off a decent-sized chunk of ice, and then all the rest of the ice starts sliding down the window. It's a beautiful thing.

It's also a terribly dangerous thing. Snow is easy enough to drive on, as you'll generally just keep going whatever direction you're headed. Ice can be a little more tricky. It tends to have a mind of its own, sending you side to side or for a quick spin into a field. That's not a beautiful thing.

It'll be interesting to see how everything looks tomorrow morning, once the storm's done pounding us. I haven't been outside since 4 p.m. (beauty of working at home), so I can only imagine what it's like out there some seven hours later. I'll just pray I don't fall down the steps when I try to retrieve my paper in the morning.

Oh yeah, I also hope the ice doesn't get so heavy on the trees that the limbs snap and knock down power lines. I'm not much of a survivalist...

In the checkout line

True story, which I found much funnier than anyone else involved:

The local Wal-Mart was incredibly busy on the 31st as everyone tried to get their last-minute things for their parties.

I stood in the express lane with a 12-pack of beer and a six-pack of soda in my arms. In front of me stood a couple with about 20 items they'd just put on the conveyor belt from their cart.

The woman looks back at me and tells me I can set my beer in their cart while I wait.

"That's OK," I responded. "I don't want you to think I can't hold my liquor."

The dawn of something new

Contrary to yesterday's blog, apparently the world didn't end tonight as I feared it might. What a relief. Instead, I merely imbibed in a few adult beverages at my sister's house for the New Year's Eve holiday.

It was a good time. The only trouble with New Year's Eve is you spend some time reflecting on the year you'd had. To be perfectly honest, 2004 was a hard year for me. It was extremely lonely and sad at points. It had some good moments work-wise but also included a stint in Delaware that is best left described as "unsatisfying." No one's happier to have that year off the books than I am.

The party reminded me of that. It was a great time, but it was a Noah's Ark party. Everyone came through the door, two by two, ready to mate. The only two single people there were me and my friend who came with me. Everyone else was married or appeared to be well on their way toward it.

These aren't bad things in and of themselves. But they're hard on the young, single guys who see one more year slipping away from them. They're difficult for results-oriented people who can say, "That's what I want" and not know how to get there.

My entire immediate family showed up for this event. The realization really hit home that I'm the last of the seven children without anyone serious in my life. [I'd settle for someone comedic at this point.] It's a harsh reality when the ball drops and you look around for someone to hold, only to realize there's no one there. Somehow a hug and a peck on the cheek from a sister isn't the same.

So here's to 2005. May it be the dawn of something new. May it be a year full of possibilities fulfilled. May it be the year you look back on and say, "That might've been the best year of my life."