Surely, you have heard the words before; perhaps even out of your own lips. It is not uncommon to hear folks around us complain about some thing or another as not being fair. Fairness is often an abstract concept to us, I guess; I think we are sometimes careless in its application.

There has been a recent bout of young people dying around me. This sad circumstance is amplified by the tragically ironic fact that these same individuals, stolen so prematurely by death, were extraordinarily full of life. I don’t know, maybe it should come as no surprise that the brightest flames burn out the fastest. But in them I see model examples: met in life with the same kindness they exhibited toward others, and facing death with courage, dignity, and unwavering optimism.

In its procedurally unnatural cruelty, it is one thing I have found, in my estimation, to safely qualify as not being fair.

Let’s say you buy one of those clear plastic containers of potato salad at the grocery store, bring it home, and put it in the fridge. Fine. No big deal. Now let’s say you get around to eating it and notice the lid looks pushed out from the inside, as if something in the container expanded and, upon opening the container, you see little bubbles on the surface of the potato salad. STOP. Do not eat it.

Trust me.

In regards to my health insurance, I opt out of HMO in favor of a PPO. HMO’s just seem a little too structured for my taste; I prefer the more free and loose feel of the PPO. Okay, so maybe “free and loose” isn’t a phrase you care to have associated with your health insurance, but to each his/her own.

One HMO requirement that I find of particular annoyance is the required declaration of a primary care physician. I’m not entirely sure why this bothers me except to say that I like having the ability to go to any doctor I choose at any given place or time. So it is with a little surprise that I find myself drawn to once again make an appointment with a physician who has treated me somewhat recently; I typically feel no such loyalty. And while this next visit is indeed related to an initial procedure he performed, that relationship is not the prominent source of my compulsion to see him again. It has occurred to me that I have developed a rapport with this particular doctor, an understanding, and I’m pretty sure I know just about when it took hold.
Continue reading “Bedside Manners”

And if you don’t think it was a show, think again. Look no further than the evangelical jugglers showing up among the throng of protestors at the hospice which cared for Terri Schiavo during her final days. Jugglers. Come on, you think I could make this stuff up?

The sad fact of the matter is that this case was used as a political fulcrum with which opposing parties could weigh their competing interests. Sure, legislative squabbling plays a role in a healthy political process, but whenever I see a case such as this, where dueling policy-makers claim to have a victim’s well-being in mind, I can’t help but wince. To grapple over legislation is one thing, but to do so under the pretext of exhibiting greater care than a political adversary is utterly hypocritical, not to mention shameful.
Continue reading “The Terri Schiavo Show”

Two hours to go before my last final, after which I am done for the year. 4:00 this morning saw me salsaing in Albuquerque with some New Mexican natives, but now here I am back in C-Town. Why am I taking this final again? Right now I find myself struck by how misleading the outward and obvious appearance of my worldly pursuits must be in relation to those things which actually inspire me. For it is the things that have not yet sprung into my life – those that are waiting, lurking – which fuel my passion. The presence of their mere potential, whether or not they in fact come to fruition, drives me, granting me new insight in discerning between what I can live with or without and indellibly impressing upon me the undeniable assertion that life IS good.

In a word: perfect. That’s how I would describe the weather in downtown Cleveland tonight. It was well past dusk as I chatted with fellow classmates at a local watering hole, but the day’s heat lingered and I found myself altogether comfortable sitting outside in a t-shirt and khakis, residual clothing from the long work/school day. Walking back to the bike around 9:30, I heard a song that never fails to lift my spirits, and I mused that it should be a crime to be in this good of a mood. I could think of only one more thing with which to top it off…

I leaned into the hairpin loop ramp connecting Prospect with I-90 Eastbound. My path straightened as I came about even with traffic and an irrepressible smile spread across my face as I cracked the throttle with the familiar flick of the wrist. I was GONE. The bridges overhead began to pass quickly, their resident lights reduced to glowing streaks of amber. The night’s warm air grew angrier as it rushed past the outside of my helmet; its mounting objection was overcome only by the mocking scream of 600cc’s roaring past 10k as they hurtled me toward Cleveland’s infamous Dead Man’s Curve.

Woohoo.

Such were the telling words of Morton in regards to our alma mater, Ohio University, winning the MAC tournament and proceeding to the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament. Those words pretty much say it all. To be sure, Ohio University doesn’t have what anyone would consider a powerhouse sports program, but once in a while they do something out of the blue that makes no particular sense. Here we have such an occasion.

Maybe I shouldn’t be so harsh; after all, a 21-10 record isn’t too shabby. I don’t follow college hoops much, but I’ve been dabbling a bit since learning the Bobcats are going to the The Dance. According to one ESPN talking head, they have two of the best freshman in the nation. If that’s true, perhaps it bodes well for our team’s future. For now, I’ll take what I can get, which is Game 1 against Florida on Friday, March 18th, at 11:35 AM CST. One thing about being the underdog: we’ve got nothing to lose.

Go Bobcats!

There’s something about traversing the country (and then some) on a single 10-hour, three-legged trip. There is something about watching, with suspended belief, each time an airplane carrying you and 300 others is able to break its earthly ties and point skyward. There’s also something about arriving at your final layover to find your flight home delayed late into the night. There is something about eventually settling into the driver’s seat of your trusty Jetta at 3:30 the next morning, turning the key, and hearing the familiar sound of the starter as it turns the car engine over. And there’s definitely something about hearing the same sound of the same starter turning the same engine over 10 seconds later….20 seconds later. There is just something about confirming with the AAA representative on the line that she did indeed just say your membership includes only THREE free towing miles, when you’re forty miles from night’s end. I promise you, there is something about finally crawling into bed at 5 A.M., realizing you have to work in a few short hours. But, most assuredly, there is nothing like hearing the sound of your own laughter as you drift asleep, ultimately reveling in the fact that, however twisted its path or frustrating its complications, your life will never be boring.

I rolled out of bed late Sunday morning and hopped on the computer for my daily brush-up on the news. Braced for reports of massive bombings and mass boycotts on your election day, I instead found myself silently cheering the fact that an estimated 72% (which was later revised to around 60%) of your population defied threats of violence by taking to polling stations around the country, making their voices heard.
Continue reading “Iraq: I Applaud You”

Memphis, TN. I do like the accents here. I’m not sure the spoken words are even relevant. I could probably be on the receiving end of a Tennessee belle’s drawl-laden public berating and still just grin and nod. I don’t plan on putting that theory to the test during my brief stay here today, mind you.
Continue reading “Layover”