Hard to believe, but in April this blog will be seven years old.
I know I haven't been a consistent blogger. As you'll notice in the timeline on the lower right, there are missing months where I did not blog at all. No apologies. Life just gets in the way of writing sometimes.
But this has always been a great place for me to vent, to get creative, to share personal feelings, failures and accomplishments. All told, I'm pretty proud that I've stuck with it this long, since the average shelf life of most blogs is less than six months.
Over the next few months, leading up to that anniversary, I plan to do some looking back and share some of my favorite blog posts. This space serves as sort of a road map of my spiritual journey the last seven years. The road I began travelling back in 2004-05, down the path of rediscovery and emerging spirituality, led me far away from my Catholic and Pentacostal roots. Well, maybe not THAT far away, but certainly in a new direction.
For anyone who has followed my ramblings, thanks. I appreciate your interest and longevity. For anyone who has just stumbled upon this blog, welcome. Pull up a chair and click through some of the posts from 2005-2011. You might chuckle, maybe you'll even stop to ponder, but whatever you do, leave a comment. Blogs are not for stalkers. They're for conversation. You don't have to be a blogger yourself to leave a comment. Anyone can do so, even anonymously.
Thanks, again, for taking a minute to read. Ciao!
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Saturday, January 07, 2012
Gulf Coast Living is for me!
In 2006, I was ready to leave Tallahassee for a home in either the panhandle beaches or Indiana...talk about your polar opposites. I decided that with the cost of real estate on the coast and the lack of a support network there it would be best to move north. So we set out in December with a contract for the sale of our house pending and moved to Fishers, Indiana. It turned out to be one of the snowiest, coldest Decembers central Indiana had seen in a long time.
We endured four of those blustery winters before packing up and heading back south. Fortunately for us, Aunt Sarah had a vacant condo ready to take us in, so we found our way 1,100 miles from Fishers to Fort Myers Beach. It was a long, two-day trip with our two girls, two dogs and everything we could cram into a small Volvo sedan. We made it to Manatee Beach near Anna Maria Island by sunset the second day. It was a glorious sunset to welcome us back to the Gulf Coast!
Our original intent was to settle in the Bradenton area, just inland from Manatee Beach. We actually hunted for jobs and houses up there until school began in early August. By then, we were falling head-over-heels in love with Fort Myers Beach and it's small town charm. We quickly shifted our focus to finding a reasonably-priced rental on the island and jobs that would help us afford it. Best decision we've made in a LONG time...and only about 5 years overdue.
I was just looking over this blog, and it was May 15, 2006, when I stated that " I will live at the beach one day." What a crazy prophecy that came true this last year!
All of the descriptions of Destin and Panama City in that May 2006 blog are perfectly applicable to where I live now, except I think the white gulf sands down this way are finer and softer to the touch. I call our beaches "baby powder" because that's what it feels like under your feet in the coolness of a December morning. It's not the scratchy, golden, Atlantic Coast sand that feels like sandpaper between your cheeks. I think the baby powder sand is how a beach just to our south got its name--Barefoot Beach...but watch out for shells. This is a great place to find them, and when you walk closer to the shoreline, you'll crunch them under your barefeet.
The reasons I am so partial to the Gulf are the calm, warm waters and the absolutely glorious sunsets. The only other place I could ever see myself is in the Florida Keys. I think that once I get bored with the sunsets here, I'll make that move further south. Then, one day, you'll read my blog about how that self-fulfilling prophecy came true.
To say that I have adapted to island life is an understatement. I think that I was predestined to live here. My blood pressure has always been on the lower end of normal and I seem to move fluidly to the rhythm of island life. It's a slower pace that I intend to maintain for another 40+ years.
We endured four of those blustery winters before packing up and heading back south. Fortunately for us, Aunt Sarah had a vacant condo ready to take us in, so we found our way 1,100 miles from Fishers to Fort Myers Beach. It was a long, two-day trip with our two girls, two dogs and everything we could cram into a small Volvo sedan. We made it to Manatee Beach near Anna Maria Island by sunset the second day. It was a glorious sunset to welcome us back to the Gulf Coast!
Our original intent was to settle in the Bradenton area, just inland from Manatee Beach. We actually hunted for jobs and houses up there until school began in early August. By then, we were falling head-over-heels in love with Fort Myers Beach and it's small town charm. We quickly shifted our focus to finding a reasonably-priced rental on the island and jobs that would help us afford it. Best decision we've made in a LONG time...and only about 5 years overdue.
I was just looking over this blog, and it was May 15, 2006, when I stated that " I will live at the beach one day." What a crazy prophecy that came true this last year!
All of the descriptions of Destin and Panama City in that May 2006 blog are perfectly applicable to where I live now, except I think the white gulf sands down this way are finer and softer to the touch. I call our beaches "baby powder" because that's what it feels like under your feet in the coolness of a December morning. It's not the scratchy, golden, Atlantic Coast sand that feels like sandpaper between your cheeks. I think the baby powder sand is how a beach just to our south got its name--Barefoot Beach...but watch out for shells. This is a great place to find them, and when you walk closer to the shoreline, you'll crunch them under your barefeet.
The reasons I am so partial to the Gulf are the calm, warm waters and the absolutely glorious sunsets. The only other place I could ever see myself is in the Florida Keys. I think that once I get bored with the sunsets here, I'll make that move further south. Then, one day, you'll read my blog about how that self-fulfilling prophecy came true.
To say that I have adapted to island life is an understatement. I think that I was predestined to live here. My blood pressure has always been on the lower end of normal and I seem to move fluidly to the rhythm of island life. It's a slower pace that I intend to maintain for another 40+ years.
Friday, January 06, 2012
Friday, December 30, 2011
Hopes for 2012
Here's what I'm hoping for in 2012...
A Kardashian-free news feed. I mean, the Jersey Shore cast had their 15 minutes of fame, like most other flash-in-the-pan, 15-more-minutes-than-they-deserved fads, so why has the Kardashian clan clung to notoriety like they're British royalty or something (another thing I don't get by the way)?!?! Didn't we fight a revolution to get away from the British monarchy? Now, we apparently can't get enough of their every bowel movement, nor of the Kardashians...which leads me to ask, is there a difference?
An Obama-free America. Send the douchebag back to Hawaii or Indonesia, or wherever he's really from and give us a REAL leader! 'Nuff said (and this was a non-partisan rant, btw)!
A war-free zone for the whole year. We spent enough of our precious resources in countries that hate us to the nth degree, so let's focus on the homefront for awhile. Oh, and world peace would be nice, too.
An Occupy movement with a purpose, please. Are you starting another Tweet revolution in America, or are you just getting lots of like-minded people together for lattes? I'm confused. Was there a point?
The end of all reality shows. Really. Enough, already. I don't want to see any more rednecks on a channel labeled "Arts and Entertainment." Jessco, 'The Dancin' Outlaw,' was entertaining...in 1990! Mud People, People who hunt wild pigs, gators, their mama's tooth, etc...not so much!
Did I miss anything?
A Kardashian-free news feed. I mean, the Jersey Shore cast had their 15 minutes of fame, like most other flash-in-the-pan, 15-more-minutes-than-they-deserved fads, so why has the Kardashian clan clung to notoriety like they're British royalty or something (another thing I don't get by the way)?!?! Didn't we fight a revolution to get away from the British monarchy? Now, we apparently can't get enough of their every bowel movement, nor of the Kardashians...which leads me to ask, is there a difference?
An Obama-free America. Send the douchebag back to Hawaii or Indonesia, or wherever he's really from and give us a REAL leader! 'Nuff said (and this was a non-partisan rant, btw)!
A war-free zone for the whole year. We spent enough of our precious resources in countries that hate us to the nth degree, so let's focus on the homefront for awhile. Oh, and world peace would be nice, too.
An Occupy movement with a purpose, please. Are you starting another Tweet revolution in America, or are you just getting lots of like-minded people together for lattes? I'm confused. Was there a point?
The end of all reality shows. Really. Enough, already. I don't want to see any more rednecks on a channel labeled "Arts and Entertainment." Jessco, 'The Dancin' Outlaw,' was entertaining...in 1990! Mud People, People who hunt wild pigs, gators, their mama's tooth, etc...not so much!
Did I miss anything?
Friday, December 16, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Cat Crusader Article from Dec 9th Island Sand Paper
If you can help Jo Ann out by donating food, money or time, please call her directly at (239) 463-6118. Thank you!
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
Waxing philosophical this morning
Funny the rabbit trails your mind will go down early in the morning after a half-cup of coffee. As I sit at my computer doing genealogy, of all things, I stumble upon a gravesite for one of my ancestors that gets me waxing philosophical, theological, even.
She was buried in an Oregon memorial park in the "Garden of Atonement."
Interesting concept that atoning for one's sins.
As I was taught, growing up in the Catholic Church, we were all born with the "mark of Adam," the stain of "original sin" upon us. That means, each and everyone of us, fresh from our mother's womb, drawing our first breath of air, was utterly doomed to failure...and eternal damnation, by the way.
What kind of bogus poker hand is that to be dealt?
The Catholics are to blame for this nonsense, you know. Now, most of the Christian worldview has been shaped by this idea that we are all born with a fatal, spiritual flaw. Innocent babies, my ass! We are wired with a penchant for evil.
This might cause one to call, "Foul!" Throw the penalty flag. Question everything he/she knows about God.
Where's the justice in that? The love? The forgiveness, even?
Ah, forgiveness...that's the rub. The "mark of Adam" with which we are ALL cursed spurred the Creator to action. He devised a master plan in which He would become the scapegoat (ala, the ram in the thicket from the story of Abraham and Isaac). Brilliant or psychotic? You decide.
The Supreme Being, Creator of all that is, devised a way out of our mortal conundrum, but it, in effect, involved His own death, a sort of deicide (it's a word, look it up).
The next thing I was taught, after learning of my one-way-ticket-do-not-pass-go entrance into Hades, is that Jesus, the one displayed in gory fashion upon a crucifix in every classroom and church I attended until middle school, was, in fact, God. He came to (drumroll please) ATONE for my sins and make everything right in my hereafter world. WHEW! That was a close call.
That was the best He could come up with...committing suicide for the fatal flaw that I was born with. Dare I say, created with? He couldn't conceive of ANY OTHER WAY but to spill His own blood?
So, to recap, I was created with or born into this world with a mortal flaw for which I was unable to help myself. The Draconian punishment for it--be I baby or old man--was eternal damnation in a lake of fire. And the ONLY way to get out of that dire, eternal consequence was for God to come down and kill Himself (i.e. His Son). And I am to believe that this Guy created galaxies yet unknown?
Puzzling.
She was buried in an Oregon memorial park in the "Garden of Atonement."
Interesting concept that atoning for one's sins.
As I was taught, growing up in the Catholic Church, we were all born with the "mark of Adam," the stain of "original sin" upon us. That means, each and everyone of us, fresh from our mother's womb, drawing our first breath of air, was utterly doomed to failure...and eternal damnation, by the way.
What kind of bogus poker hand is that to be dealt?
The Catholics are to blame for this nonsense, you know. Now, most of the Christian worldview has been shaped by this idea that we are all born with a fatal, spiritual flaw. Innocent babies, my ass! We are wired with a penchant for evil.
This might cause one to call, "Foul!" Throw the penalty flag. Question everything he/she knows about God.
Where's the justice in that? The love? The forgiveness, even?
Ah, forgiveness...that's the rub. The "mark of Adam" with which we are ALL cursed spurred the Creator to action. He devised a master plan in which He would become the scapegoat (ala, the ram in the thicket from the story of Abraham and Isaac). Brilliant or psychotic? You decide.
The Supreme Being, Creator of all that is, devised a way out of our mortal conundrum, but it, in effect, involved His own death, a sort of deicide (it's a word, look it up).
The next thing I was taught, after learning of my one-way-ticket-do-not-pass-go entrance into Hades, is that Jesus, the one displayed in gory fashion upon a crucifix in every classroom and church I attended until middle school, was, in fact, God. He came to (drumroll please) ATONE for my sins and make everything right in my hereafter world. WHEW! That was a close call.
That was the best He could come up with...committing suicide for the fatal flaw that I was born with. Dare I say, created with? He couldn't conceive of ANY OTHER WAY but to spill His own blood?
So, to recap, I was created with or born into this world with a mortal flaw for which I was unable to help myself. The Draconian punishment for it--be I baby or old man--was eternal damnation in a lake of fire. And the ONLY way to get out of that dire, eternal consequence was for God to come down and kill Himself (i.e. His Son). And I am to believe that this Guy created galaxies yet unknown?
Puzzling.
Friday, December 02, 2011
Local Adopt-A-Troop Benefit
After a few weeks absence from the Island Sand Paper, I have a new article in today's edition all about the Nov 17th benefit for Adopt-A-Troop Foundation...
Monday, November 14, 2011
A Hero Remembered
 |
| Grave of Clifford O. Carlton 1924-1991 (Garden Sanctuary Cemetery, Seminole, FL) |
I was researching Clifford's family, as I am a 4th cousin,* and ran across these newsclippings in the Browning Genealogy database (http://browning.evcpl.lib.in.us/):
4 Jan 1945 -- "Pfc Clifford O. Carlton was wounded in action in Germany on Dec 16 [1944]. An infantryman, he also has served in England and France since arriving overseas in August, 1944...A former Reitz High School student..."
24 Sep 1945 -- "Pfc Clifford Carlton, brother of Mrs. Heal, is now home on sick leave from Fletcher General Hospital, Cambridge [Ohio]. He is recovering from left leg wounds suffered last Dec. 16 in battle east of Cologne. In the Army since April 3, 1943, he trained at Ft. McClellan, Ala., Ft. Benning, Ga., Ft. Mackall, NC., and Camp Forrest, Tenn. When injured in a parachute accident, he was transferred to the infantry. Going overseas in July, 1944, he served with the 8th Division. His decorations include the Purple Heart, good conduct and American Defense ribbons, a three-star-studded ETO ribbon and combat infantry badge."
Clifford and his wife, Jane, retired to Madeira Beach, Florida. He died 25 Feb 1991 at Bay Vines Veterans Hospital in St. Petersburg. He was laid to rest at Garden Sanctuary Cemetery in nearby Seminole, FL.
* Clifford and I are 4th cousins, 2 times removed, because his second great-grandfather, Bracket Mills, was a brother to my fourth great-grandfather, Duston Mills, of Gibson County, Indiana.
Friday, November 04, 2011
Painting the Beach (Island Sand Paper)
My latest submission to the Island Sand Paper about an art celebration called Paint the Beach, Nov. 14-20, on Fort Myers Beach, which ran on the front page and pg. 19...
Friday, October 28, 2011
FLOWSTIVAL Benefit Celebration takes place the weekend of November 18-20 in Bonita Springs, Florida. Join us for a weekend of camping, rhythm and flow arts! Or as Dino likes to say, "Feel the rhythm; release the fear!" Online prices the next two weeks will save you money, so don't delay in getting your 3-day passes. Hope to see you there.
Monday, October 24, 2011
America's global spending spree backed by politicians on both sides
Secretary Clinton is at it again. You know, I don't mind when the liberal agenda wants to spend money on struggling families at home, but when they want to spend millions helping foreign countries halfway around the globe? Yeah, I have a problem with that.
Now Republican Senator Lindsey Graham is jumping on the bandwagon. He defends irresponsible spending in the name of 'national security.' Isn't that standby excuse wearing thin, yet. Ever since 9-11, our GOP leaders love to cover anything they do under the umbrella of 'the war on terror' and 'national security.'
I don't pretend to be a foreign policy expert and I'm sure the politicos in Washington claim to know better than I, but I CAN balance a checkbook. And I know that when I'm hundreds of dollars in the hole, I don't have money to go out and pick up the tab for me and my buddies.
Our nation's debt is outta control. We don't have money to be the 'bank of the world.' Let struggling countries find ways to make it on their own. It will be good for them in the long run....at least that's what my dad always told me when I asked to borrow cash.
Now Republican Senator Lindsey Graham is jumping on the bandwagon. He defends irresponsible spending in the name of 'national security.' Isn't that standby excuse wearing thin, yet. Ever since 9-11, our GOP leaders love to cover anything they do under the umbrella of 'the war on terror' and 'national security.'
I don't pretend to be a foreign policy expert and I'm sure the politicos in Washington claim to know better than I, but I CAN balance a checkbook. And I know that when I'm hundreds of dollars in the hole, I don't have money to go out and pick up the tab for me and my buddies.
Our nation's debt is outta control. We don't have money to be the 'bank of the world.' Let struggling countries find ways to make it on their own. It will be good for them in the long run....at least that's what my dad always told me when I asked to borrow cash.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Living History at Matanzas Pass Preserve
The Island Sand Paper ran my story today about the upcoming Visions of the Past event on pages 1 and 19...
I took the two photos with my digital camera. I think they translated pretty well on newsprint.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Dan Wheldon, gone.
The Indy Racing League was dealt a devastating blow today when one of its leading drivers was killed in a 15-car accident at the Las Vegas Indy 300.
Above is a picture I took in May 2008 while at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway for a day of practice. That could be Dan's wife, Susie, to his left. I'm not sure. Today, she was widowed at around 3:00 p.m., leaving her to raise two young sons without their father.
From what I know, Dan was a great driver, great competitor and a nice guy. He had won at Indy, won the IRL championship and won the hearts of many Indy car fans, especially the feminine variety. He was a good looking guy.
Today, his life was cut short at the age of 33 after his car hurled into the air, then barrel-rolled into the barrier fence before careening back to the pavement ablaze. His wrecked car was covered with a golden-colored tarp before being removed from the track at Vegas. During that same time, he was being airlifted to the local hospital where he would later be pronounced dead.
I feel so badly for his widow and their two children. My heart goes out to them.
I understand the dangers of racing at speeds above 220 mph. The Indy cars are like jets on racing tires. Unfortunately, too many times they go airborne. I witnessed it firsthand at the 2010 Indy 500 where on the last lap of the race a guy went airborne into the fence between turns three and four. I was sitting at the entrance of the short chute where the crash began that year.
I remember another deadly accident in the 80's that occured at Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Another driver, Gordon Smiley, was killed by a horrific accident that ended with him airborn and into the fence. Safety and race car design has come such a long way, but today we are reminded just how dangerous this sport still is.
Again, I am saddened by the Wheldon family's loss. I can only hope that this incident leads to further advances and improvements in driver safety.
Rest in peace, Dan.
From what I know, Dan was a great driver, great competitor and a nice guy. He had won at Indy, won the IRL championship and won the hearts of many Indy car fans, especially the feminine variety. He was a good looking guy.
Today, his life was cut short at the age of 33 after his car hurled into the air, then barrel-rolled into the barrier fence before careening back to the pavement ablaze. His wrecked car was covered with a golden-colored tarp before being removed from the track at Vegas. During that same time, he was being airlifted to the local hospital where he would later be pronounced dead.
I feel so badly for his widow and their two children. My heart goes out to them.
I understand the dangers of racing at speeds above 220 mph. The Indy cars are like jets on racing tires. Unfortunately, too many times they go airborne. I witnessed it firsthand at the 2010 Indy 500 where on the last lap of the race a guy went airborne into the fence between turns three and four. I was sitting at the entrance of the short chute where the crash began that year.
I remember another deadly accident in the 80's that occured at Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Another driver, Gordon Smiley, was killed by a horrific accident that ended with him airborn and into the fence. Safety and race car design has come such a long way, but today we are reminded just how dangerous this sport still is.
Again, I am saddened by the Wheldon family's loss. I can only hope that this incident leads to further advances and improvements in driver safety.
Rest in peace, Dan.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Never Forget
Yesterday, I blogged about The Falling Man and my recollections of 9/11. Today, I stumbled across a blog written about the massive outpouring of support after the attack. As Senator Rob Portman was recalling his wife's trip back to Ohio and the Search and Rescue Team she passed on their way to Ground Zero, I remembered the many volunteers who went to New York from Florida in the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attack.
Yesterday, I told my story of watching the horror unfold on television and how I was working for the government in Tallahassee. Well, fast forward just a couple of months and I had been rehired by the Florida Division of Emergency Management to serve as their spokesperson. I had the privilege of speaking with many a volunteer who had just returned from the devastation at Ground Zero. Some of them had served in the Salvation Army tent kitchens, ensuring that volunteers and first responders had a hot meal after long, laborious hours of combing the wreckage.
While I don't recall offhand the total number of volunteers we sent from Florida, I do know that Search and Rescue was another group of willing volunteers. The urban S&R teams would painstakingly navigate twisted steel and dig through feet of ash and rubble just to search for survivors and recover barely recognizable remains with the help of specially-trained canines. Those volunteers were just as much heroes as the first responders who gave all to save their neighbor.
I remember wishing I could go with one of the Florida teams, if just to serve a few meals or hand out bottled water. I had so much respect for my colleagues in Tallahassee who dropped everything and went for weeks on end to serve in New York City. Alas, I had a four-month-old baby at home and a wife who couldn't sleep. There was no way I was leaving them for 6-8 weeks.
Still, the memories of the days, weeks and months after 9/11 are vivid for me. I'll admit that I had grown complacent, choosing not to reflect on the horrible images that had bombarded me through television and online news outlets in 2001. But since yesterday, I cannot get them out of my head, so I designed the collage at the top of this blog post. It reminds of the phrase that was our nation's mantra in the waning months of that year. Let us never forget.
Friday, September 09, 2011
Nine-eleven
Ten years ago, you could have typed three numbers and immediately everyone would've known what that represented. Nine, one-one. The three-digit emergency telephone number that links U.S. residents with first responders in times of crisis or imminent danger. Sadly, today that is no longer the case. For when you type nine, one-one, it evokes sadness and tragic memories of a fateful day in history.
I've been reluctanct to recall those memories. And in the days leading up to the tenth anniversary/memorial of "nine-eleven," bombarded with reminders on television and the web, I've been reticent to share any feelings associated with those memories. Today, I finally broke.
As I watched the end of Live with Regis and Kelly, they had a prolonged moment of silence. Then, I stumbled upon a documentary titled "9/11 The Falling Man" on The Western Confucian blog. I knew that I needed to speak and let those feelings flow freely.
The Nine-eleven disaster did not effect me directly. I knew no one in the tower. I'd never even been to Manhattan and seen the World Trade Center in person, only on TV. I was 1,100 miles removed from Ground Zero. Yet, I have vivid memories of that day.
Working in the Pepper Building, part of a sprawling network of government buildings in downtown Tallahassee, I overheard my coworkers watching live coverage of the terrorist attack on MSNBC. The first tower had been struck. People were gathering around the computer monitor on the other side of the cubicle I was in. I needed to get to a television, so I took a coffee break and drove to the nearby Governor's Square Mall. I found TVs blaring live coverage in the food court of the mall. I was stunned; flabbergasted, even.
Watching the news with horror, I called my wife who was on maternity leave with our two-month old (to the day) daughter. They were watching something other than the news, oblivious to the terrorism that had just been perpetrated on American soil. Until that day, the most shocking attack of this kind we had seen on television, was the 1996 Olympic bombing in Atlanta or the Murrow Federal Building bombing in Tulsa. My wife was bewildered as she turned to CNN.
I received a call on my cellphone that our office had been evacuated as a safety precaution. In fact, the entire state government came grinding to a halt. The Capitol Building and adjacent offices in Tallahassee were cleared because of the fear that the President's brother, Governor Jeb Bush, would be a likely target. I was relieved that I didn't have to go back to work. I could hardly remove my glare from the televisions at the mall. Truth be told, I could hardly believe my eyes!
It was around 9:30 that morning and the news cameras had already shown the second tower being hit by a hijacked airliner and now the tower was falling. The iconic World Trade Center in New York was crumbling before my eyes. There were people leaping from busted out windows in the other tower. The scene was absolutely surreal.
I don't remember how long I stayed at the mall that morning or what time I returned home, but I must have been glued to the cable news networks for hours that day. It seemed as if pandemonium had struck the heart of Manhattan's financial district. It had, indeed.
The interviews with victims' spouses in the first 24-minutes of The Falling Man film will bring you to tears. But the positive spin one husband gives was inconceivably imaginative considering his great tragedy. His wife, stuck high in the south tower before it fell, was found on the sidewalk in front of the building across from the tower. She obviously had jumped. He tried to imagine the split-second thought going through her head as she made that fateful leap from high above lower Manhattan. He describes the liberating, breathtaking sense of flight and how she was finally able to breathe, free of the smoke, ash and burning embers of the unstable trade tower. I was amazed that he could even find an image so positive from such a horrific act.
USA Today reports the gruesome story about those who jumped, but whose deaths are still labeled "homicides" by the New York Coroner's Office. Not all who "were forced out by smoke and flames" made it to the streets below. "On the south side, firefighters reported 30 to 40 bodies on the roof of the 22-floor Marriott Hotel, adjacent to the north tower." One eyewitness from the south tower saw a lady fall just outside his window. He recalls, "She wasn't screaming. It was slow motion." He saw her hit the ground. How horrified he must have been.
Gruesome though it may be, that sight saved hundreds of lives. "Many south tower survivors say the sight of people jumping created an urgency that caused them to leave immediately and ignore announcements that it was safe to return to their desks."
USA Today estimates that upwards of 200 people jumped, mainly from the north tower which was hit first but stood 46 minutes longer than the south tower. "The Falling Man" has been identified by family and co-workers as Jonathan Briley, a worker at the Windows on the World restaurant. No positive i.d. was ever made, however. Information and pictures about the late Mr. Briley can be found on Michelle Malkin's blog in a post titled, "The Falling Man Revisited".
The film asserts that we, as Americans, have attempted to erase those gruesome images by refusing to look at them. But I, for one, can never erase them from my memory. They were the visible casualties from a man-made disaster that claimed nearly 3,000 lives. And while I did not know any of them personally, the images of those who jumped from certain death TO certain death certainly touched me deeply.
Because of that fateful day ten years ago, no one can ever say, type or think 9-1-1 without having to pause that split second and think, is that "nine-eleven" or "nine, one-one?" That three-digit code will forever link our country with the heroic first responders who come to our rescue in times of personal crisis and who came to Ground Zero at that time of national crisis. May all who died rest in peace. May all who live, "Never forget."
I've been reluctanct to recall those memories. And in the days leading up to the tenth anniversary/memorial of "nine-eleven," bombarded with reminders on television and the web, I've been reticent to share any feelings associated with those memories. Today, I finally broke.
As I watched the end of Live with Regis and Kelly, they had a prolonged moment of silence. Then, I stumbled upon a documentary titled "9/11 The Falling Man" on The Western Confucian blog. I knew that I needed to speak and let those feelings flow freely.
The Nine-eleven disaster did not effect me directly. I knew no one in the tower. I'd never even been to Manhattan and seen the World Trade Center in person, only on TV. I was 1,100 miles removed from Ground Zero. Yet, I have vivid memories of that day.
Working in the Pepper Building, part of a sprawling network of government buildings in downtown Tallahassee, I overheard my coworkers watching live coverage of the terrorist attack on MSNBC. The first tower had been struck. People were gathering around the computer monitor on the other side of the cubicle I was in. I needed to get to a television, so I took a coffee break and drove to the nearby Governor's Square Mall. I found TVs blaring live coverage in the food court of the mall. I was stunned; flabbergasted, even.
Watching the news with horror, I called my wife who was on maternity leave with our two-month old (to the day) daughter. They were watching something other than the news, oblivious to the terrorism that had just been perpetrated on American soil. Until that day, the most shocking attack of this kind we had seen on television, was the 1996 Olympic bombing in Atlanta or the Murrow Federal Building bombing in Tulsa. My wife was bewildered as she turned to CNN.
I received a call on my cellphone that our office had been evacuated as a safety precaution. In fact, the entire state government came grinding to a halt. The Capitol Building and adjacent offices in Tallahassee were cleared because of the fear that the President's brother, Governor Jeb Bush, would be a likely target. I was relieved that I didn't have to go back to work. I could hardly remove my glare from the televisions at the mall. Truth be told, I could hardly believe my eyes!
It was around 9:30 that morning and the news cameras had already shown the second tower being hit by a hijacked airliner and now the tower was falling. The iconic World Trade Center in New York was crumbling before my eyes. There were people leaping from busted out windows in the other tower. The scene was absolutely surreal.
I don't remember how long I stayed at the mall that morning or what time I returned home, but I must have been glued to the cable news networks for hours that day. It seemed as if pandemonium had struck the heart of Manhattan's financial district. It had, indeed.
The interviews with victims' spouses in the first 24-minutes of The Falling Man film will bring you to tears. But the positive spin one husband gives was inconceivably imaginative considering his great tragedy. His wife, stuck high in the south tower before it fell, was found on the sidewalk in front of the building across from the tower. She obviously had jumped. He tried to imagine the split-second thought going through her head as she made that fateful leap from high above lower Manhattan. He describes the liberating, breathtaking sense of flight and how she was finally able to breathe, free of the smoke, ash and burning embers of the unstable trade tower. I was amazed that he could even find an image so positive from such a horrific act.
USA Today reports the gruesome story about those who jumped, but whose deaths are still labeled "homicides" by the New York Coroner's Office. Not all who "were forced out by smoke and flames" made it to the streets below. "On the south side, firefighters reported 30 to 40 bodies on the roof of the 22-floor Marriott Hotel, adjacent to the north tower." One eyewitness from the south tower saw a lady fall just outside his window. He recalls, "She wasn't screaming. It was slow motion." He saw her hit the ground. How horrified he must have been.
Gruesome though it may be, that sight saved hundreds of lives. "Many south tower survivors say the sight of people jumping created an urgency that caused them to leave immediately and ignore announcements that it was safe to return to their desks."
USA Today estimates that upwards of 200 people jumped, mainly from the north tower which was hit first but stood 46 minutes longer than the south tower. "The Falling Man" has been identified by family and co-workers as Jonathan Briley, a worker at the Windows on the World restaurant. No positive i.d. was ever made, however. Information and pictures about the late Mr. Briley can be found on Michelle Malkin's blog in a post titled, "The Falling Man Revisited".
The film asserts that we, as Americans, have attempted to erase those gruesome images by refusing to look at them. But I, for one, can never erase them from my memory. They were the visible casualties from a man-made disaster that claimed nearly 3,000 lives. And while I did not know any of them personally, the images of those who jumped from certain death TO certain death certainly touched me deeply.
Because of that fateful day ten years ago, no one can ever say, type or think 9-1-1 without having to pause that split second and think, is that "nine-eleven" or "nine, one-one?" That three-digit code will forever link our country with the heroic first responders who come to our rescue in times of personal crisis and who came to Ground Zero at that time of national crisis. May all who died rest in peace. May all who live, "Never forget."
Saturday, September 03, 2011
First Game Rust?
Let me say right from the start that I'm VERY happy with a shut-out win to start the 2011 season. BUT, the Seminoles didn't quite play up to all the hype or the Top 5 ranking. Shannon J. Owens nails it in the Orlando Sentinel column, "The Seminoles played footsie with the Warhawks when they should have been cutting off their toes."
The team with national championship aspirations wasn't playing like a contender today. Their first quarter performance was lackluster and uninspired. You'd never know they had a Heisman-caliber quarterback or lightning-fast receivers. As Owens points out quite graphically, they lacked the killer instinct of the Seminole teams of old.
While other top teams were steamrolling their first opponents of twenty-eleven, the Seminoles were settling for punts and field goals. And say what you will about ULM, but they were scheduled to be a cupcake of a home opener. The shutout was nice, but it should have been by 50 points with all the firepower in Jimbo's arsenal.
I don't know if it was the playcalling or the execution, but I was having flashbacks during the the first quarter of the "good ol'" Bowden days...and I'm talking about the infamous Bowden playcaller, Jeff, not Bobby. Some of the vanilla plays early in the game definitely had a hint of Jeffy. Very conservative (as if the Warhawks were just supposed to play dead and grant the Noles 10 yards on every play).
Granted, the Warhawks did put up a fight, but their offense couldn't muster 200 total yards. They laid a golden goose egg on the final scoreboard.
What do we take away from this so-so home opener? Well, a win for one. I am very happy the Seminoles go into Week 2 with a 1-0 record. I was glad to see some flashes of brilliance from EJ Manuel at quarterback. His long, touchdown pass before the half was beautifully thrown and right on the mark! But we're used to seeing those kinds of plays on the first first-and-ten of the game, especially against cupcakes like ULM. So, there's room for improvement. Better playcalling and better execution are a MUST if FSU wants to be taken seriously this season.
Let's go Seminoles!!!
 |
| Courtesy Seminoles.com |
The team with national championship aspirations wasn't playing like a contender today. Their first quarter performance was lackluster and uninspired. You'd never know they had a Heisman-caliber quarterback or lightning-fast receivers. As Owens points out quite graphically, they lacked the killer instinct of the Seminole teams of old.
While other top teams were steamrolling their first opponents of twenty-eleven, the Seminoles were settling for punts and field goals. And say what you will about ULM, but they were scheduled to be a cupcake of a home opener. The shutout was nice, but it should have been by 50 points with all the firepower in Jimbo's arsenal.
I don't know if it was the playcalling or the execution, but I was having flashbacks during the the first quarter of the "good ol'" Bowden days...and I'm talking about the infamous Bowden playcaller, Jeff, not Bobby. Some of the vanilla plays early in the game definitely had a hint of Jeffy. Very conservative (as if the Warhawks were just supposed to play dead and grant the Noles 10 yards on every play).
Granted, the Warhawks did put up a fight, but their offense couldn't muster 200 total yards. They laid a golden goose egg on the final scoreboard.
What do we take away from this so-so home opener? Well, a win for one. I am very happy the Seminoles go into Week 2 with a 1-0 record. I was glad to see some flashes of brilliance from EJ Manuel at quarterback. His long, touchdown pass before the half was beautifully thrown and right on the mark! But we're used to seeing those kinds of plays on the first first-and-ten of the game, especially against cupcakes like ULM. So, there's room for improvement. Better playcalling and better execution are a MUST if FSU wants to be taken seriously this season.
Let's go Seminoles!!!
Friday, September 02, 2011
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