General musings

Here’s a link to my friend Scott’s blog that will give you some idea of some of the damage sustained on the western side of the county. It will give you a sense of what we’ve been dealing with here.

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First, it is worth noting that this is the 800th post on this blog. That’s a milestone I never thought I would reach, and I thank each and every one of you who takes time out of your day to indulge my rantings.

Here’s a quick update on the status of things here. Our power came back on at the house last night. We were at the hotel, and Susan realized she had forgotten something and ran home to get it. She then discovered that the power was back on, called me to tell me, and then came to pick us up and take us home. We still have no telephone or Internet (hopefully, those will come back today) and a freezer full of spoiled food, but other than that, we’re okay.

There are still easily 250,000 people here in Central Ohio with no power. Neither my office nor Susan’s has power. People are suffering with no refrigeration, no hot water, no electricity, telephone, etc.; fortunately, the weather is cool, so it’s not ghastly without air conditioning. Those whose power has not already been restored may have to wait as late as Friday or Saturday to get their power back. Clean up is under way. Not surprisingly, the tree service companies are overwhelmed with calls that they cannot begin to keep up with at the moment.

One poor local man was killed when he was going to his shed and a tree fell on him. That’s obviously unfortunate, but this poor fellow’s son vanished a couple of years ago and remains missing, making his situation doubly tragic. I hope he finds some peace now.

So, we’re fine. A little bruised and sore, wand with lots of cleaning up to do, but we will be just fine.

Tomorrow, it will be business as usual on this blog.

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We had something close to a perfect storm here yesterday.

Three things converged to create a disastrous windstorm. The combination of a shift in the jet stream, a powerful cold front, and the remnants of Hurricane Ike all came together north and west of Ohio to create a windstorm of absolutely epic proportions. For nearly four hours yesterday, the winds howled like nothing I have ever heard. 75 mile per hour gusts–Category 1 hurricane winds–were recorded at Port Columbus International Airport, which is about five miles from my house. The destruction and devastation is remarkable.

Trees are down everywhere you can imagine. About 500,000 homes in Central Ohio are without power here today, including mine. Virtually all of the schools in the area are closed. There’s no power at my office or at Susan’s. I’m sitting in a hotel room–we came here last night with our dogs–so we would have the basic amenities of life–power, hot water, air conditioning, and Internet access. When I heard it might be several days before power is restored, I elected not to check out of the hotel this morning, figuring it was better to pay for an extra day than to not have the room tonight if our power is not restored today.

Things could have been much worse for us. A limb from my next door neighbor’s oak tree came crashing down, missing my Jeep–parked in the driveway–by three or four inches. They had a tree completely uprooted by the wind. Our neighbors behind us lost about half of a 40-year-old sycamore tree, and a big chunk of it crashed down on their roof. I was out in the backyard when it happened, and I saw it come down and crash.

We lost a tree in our yard. I was outside with the dogs when one of the four main limbs of the tree came off. I had Susan come out to help me because I was trying to keep the thing away from our fence. I was just reaching up to grab the limb when the next one snapped off and came down on top of both of us. I absorbed a lot of the blow when it smacked into my shoulder and neck, but it took Susan to the ground and I had to get her out from under it. We’re both okay. A bit battered and bruised, but okay.

I hope not to ever experience anything like this again so long as I live. It was frightening. I hope all of my readers are okay. For all we experienced, we didn’t have the rain or flooding that they had in Galveston. My thoughts and prayers are with the residents of Galveston and Houston today.

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Today marks seven years since the terrorist attacks that changed our world forever. Consequently, I’m going to stray into contemporary events for one day before returning to the normal business of this blog tomorrow.

I’ve already recounted my experiences on 9/11 here, so I won’t bore you with doing so again.

Instead, I want to focus on another issue.

In prior conflicts, it was always easy to define “win”. In the Civil War, for the North, “win” meant putting down the rebellion. In the South, “win” meant separation from the rest of the Union. In World War II, it meant defeating the forces of fascism and removing the militaristic regimes. Even in the Korean War, “win” meant to maintain the sovereignty of South Korea and, under MacArthur, eliminating the Communist regime.

In this Global War on Terror, as it’s called, we don’t have that luxury. People say we have to “win” in Iraq before we can leave. My problem is that I have no idea what that means. What does “win” mean in Iraq? What does it mean in Afghanistan? It seems to me that the definition of “win” is different in Iraq from what it is in Afghanistan. And those who question such things are accused of not being patriotic and not supporting the troops. Senator McCain, for whom I have always had a great deal of respect, can’t define these terms, either.

I don’t want to be overtly political here, but my antipathy for the Bush Administration is no secret. I can’t wait for him to leave office; tomorrow would not be soon enough. In 2004, I said I would have voted for a cinder block if the Democrats had nominated one, and I meant it.

Let’s never forget the sacrifices of the victims of 9/11 and their families. Let’s honor them appropriately, as happened today. I laud both Senator McCain and Senator Obama for setting aside petty partisan politics for one day today and for appearing together in New York. We are, after all, all Americans. At the same time, though, we need to define these terms and understand what it means to “win” this war on terrorism before more tens of billions of dollars are squandered with no real strategy or end game in mind.

Hopefully, our leaders will learn these lessons of history so that their mistakes will not be repeated. Or so I hope.

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Susan and I live on the border between the City of Columbus, and its neighboring suburb of Reynoldsburg. Reynoldsburg touts itself as the “Birthplace of the Tomato”, although I’m not entirely sure why. Every year, the city hosts the Tomato Festival, a celebration of everything tomato.

For reasons that are completely lost to me, they’ve included a Civil War encampment this year. What reenactors and tomatoes have in common is really a mystery to me, but somebody has made that connection.

I learned about it at 9:30 tonight, when they started night firing artillery at their encampment, which is less than a mile away. It rattled the windows, scared the living daylights out of Nero and Aurora, who started barking like mad, and caused me and many of my neighbors to stumble outside to make sure that none of the neighborhood houses had blown sky high like that post office in my home town did one night my senior year in high school (which is a whole other story for another time).

Now, I like Civil War re-enactors as much as the next guy. They definitely play a role, and if what they do interests a single kid in the Civil War, then I’m all for them. However, what possible reason is there for firing their guns on a Saturday night in a suburban, densely populated neighborhood? I mean, please……

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Yesterday, I wrote about the A House Divided project at my alma mater, Dickinson College. As part of that discussion, I mentioned that my friend Brian Pohanka died of melanoma at the too-young age of 50.

I have a first cousin named David. David was married to a pretty red head with very fair skin and lots of freckles. They had a swimming pool in their back yard, and his wife was very fond of laying by the pool, soaking up the sun. A freckle on her forehead turned cancerous and by the time they found it, it had metastasized to her brain. She died of melanoma very young, leaving three young sons (the youngest was six when she died).

My parents’ next door neighbor also died of melanoma. She wasn’t smart about it. She knew she’d had skin cancers removed, but she categorically refused to stop laying out in the sun for hours at a time, and she ultimately paid for it with her life.

As you can see, this horrible disease has touched me personally. This spring, it touched me in a different way.

Those of you who regularly read this blog know what a huge, long-time fan I am of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. My love for Bruce and his band dates back more than 30 years. On March 24, Susan and I attended his concert here, and his long-time bandmate and keyboard player, Danny Federici, was missing. Although his replacement, Charles Giordano, is a fine player, Danny’s unique sound and presence were definitely missing that night. Four weeks later, Danny was dead of melanoma. Like my cousin David’s wife, he had red hair, fair skin, and light eyes, and having grown up on the Jersey shore, he spent too much unprotected time in the sun. And it cost him his life.

Danny’s son Jason has started the Danny Federici Melanoma Fund to honor his father. On the web site, which Jason designed himself, he has a particularly moving quote from his dad: “What people take for granted on a daily basis, among so many other things, is their skin. I spent my life, like many others, catching some rays, surfing, hanging out in the sun and it never bothered me until now. Who knew that something as simple as a proper sunscreen or keeping yourself covered up on a sunny day could one day save your life? Our culture looks at a nice tan as a sign of luxury. We spend time in tanning booths when we can’t go to the beach or lay by the pool. It’s time to think again. Especially if you’re fair skined, have freckles, or light eyes. Be aware of the dangers, take precaution, and have yourself checked out regularly by a dermatologist from head to toe. It could absolutely make the difference in your life.”

Yesterday, the E Street Band released a four-song EP of highlights from the Magic Tour, which is still going on in Europe. One of those songs is “Sandy”, which features a lengthy accordion solo by Danny that was his trademark. The version included in the EP was from Danny’s final performance with the E Street Band, less than a week before we saw them in March. 34 days later, Danny was dead at 58. Watching the video is a very moving thing; it’s painfully obvious that he was very, very ill, but it was also very obvious how happy his bandmates, and especially Bruce, were just to have him there on stage with them. All of the proceeds of the sale of this EP are being donated to the Danny Federici Melanoma Fund with no royalties being paid to anyone, including by Apple. I bought all four songs plus the video of “Sandy” yesterday. The whole thing cost me $6.00.

Even Sen. John McCain, who could be the next President of the United States, has been treated for melanoma on several occasions. Nobody is exempt.

This is a very worthy cause, and I want to encourage you to open your hearts and your wallets. We’ve already lost too many good people to this disease. Let’s do what we can to try to find a cure. Thank you.

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This was one of the worst days I’ve had in about as long as I can remember. As I sit here, I feel completely violated. My world has been invaded, and I’m not sure that it will ever quite be the same again.

As a sole practitioner, my entire world, everything associated with the operation of my business, is based in the computer that I use at the office. My time and billing software, my accounting software, my case management software, and, of course, my client files, are the lifeblood of how I operate.

My office is at the end of a building in an office condominium complex. The office backs up to a stand of trees that divides the office park from residential properties. It’s an extremely secluded spot, and it has, apparently, been just begging to be taken advantage of by some adventurous miserable prick. And, although I never really considered it until today, the building has no security system. In retrospect, that should have been a big concern for me, but it just never crossed my mind.

When I walked into my office today, the first thing that I noticed was that the torchiere in the corner was on, which it should not have been. I turned it off when I left yesterday. And then I noticed that the window was gone, and that there was a sixty pound rock, and lots of broken glass on the floor next to my desk. Then I looked at my credenza, and came to the horrifying realization that my computer, monitor, keyboard, mouse, and expensive JBL Creature 2 speakers, as well as all of the associated cables, were all gone. My printer was still there, but it was turned up on end so that the fuckers could pull the printer cable out and take it.

My whole business is gone. And with the crazy schedule that I’ve been keeping, I hadn’t had an opportunity to do a back-up in a couple of months. I lost my entire billing database and have no copies at all of the invoices I sent out yesterday, since I don’t keep hard copies, but rather save them on the computer as a PDF file. I have been having to contact clients to get them to get copies of the invoices that went out yesterday to me so that I can rebuild the database and so I know what their account balances are. I generally know what they are, but I surely don’t know the specific dollar amounts.

So far, I’m out about $200 to buy a keyboard, mouse, printer cable and a low-end set of speakers for my laptop. I still need to acquire a monitor and a new printer, since my present printer does not have a Mac driver and is not compatible with my MacBook. I will have to buy those over the weekend. That doesn’t count what I’m going to have to pay the consultant to come back in and set up my billing and practice management programs for me. It also cost me half a day of productive time today, since I had to come home to have access to a computer, and I can’t get anything done with the dogs constantly bugging me. This fiasco is definitely going to cost me more than the amount of my month’s rent, that’s for sure.

There is only one thing that could have happened that could have been worse, and that’s losing my license. This is as close to the worst case scenario as something could possibly be. And I feel completely violated, like I’ve been raped. At the moment, I’m unsure what I’m going to do, but I can tell you two things: (a) I am NOT paying rent this month, and if the building owner doesn’t like it, I will sue him for the damages resulting from the total lack of any security and (b) I will not stay in the building if a security system is not installed immediately. While I doubt that an alarm going off would have stopped this smash-and-grab, perhaps knowledge that there was a security system in the building might have deterred the motherfuckers.

Fortunately, it appears that they left at least partial fingerprints behind, so I’m hopeful that the police will find them and make an arrest. And if they do, the least I hope for them is that some big guy named Bubba with a scorching case of herpes decides to make him or them his bitch while they’re incarcerated.

UPDATE, JULY 3: This morning, I paid a visit to Office Max and purchased a new monitor and a new printer, as well as a new surge protector, because the bastards even took that.

It turns out that at least one of the morons left a lovely thumbprint on the glass, so my hope is that Columbus’ Finest will shortly be making an arrest and that they might even be able to recover my computer.

As of today, I’m out about $500, which doesn’t even begin to count the cost of the consultant that will have to come in next week. This morning, I told the landlord that unless there’s a functioning security system in this building by the end of next week, I’m moving out, and he informed me that there is a system in place, it’s just not active. Just dandy.

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This story checks out on Snopes.com, so it is a true story. Hat tip to Sam Hood for bringing it to my attention.

Charlie Brown was a B-17 Flying Fortress pilot with the 379th Bomber Group at Kimbolton, England. His B-17 was called ‘Ye Old Pub’ and was in a terrible state, having been hit by flak and fighters. The compass was damaged and they were flying deeper over enemy territory instead of heading home to Kimbolton.

After flying over an enemy airfield, a pilot named Franz Stigler was ordered to take off and shoot down the B-17. When he got near the

B-17, he could not believe his eyes. In his words, he ‘had never seen a plane in such a bad state’. The tail and rear section was severely damaged, and the tail gunner wounded. The top gunner was all over the top of the fuselage. The nose was smashed and there were holes everywhere.

Despite having ammunition, Franz flew to the side of the B-17 and looked at Charlie Brown, the pilot. Brown was scared and struggling to control his damaged and blood-stained plane.

Aware that they had no idea where they were going, Franz waved at Charlie to turn 180 degrees. Franz escorted and guided the stricken plane to and slightly over the North Sea towards England. He then saluted Charlie Brown and turned away, back to Europe.

When Franz landed he told the c/o that the plane had been shot down over the sea, and never told the truth to anybody. Charlie Brown and the remains of his crew told all at their briefing, but were ordered never to talk about it.

More than 40 years later, Charlie Brown wanted to find the Luftwaffe pilot who saved the crew. After years of research, Franz was found. He had never talked about the incident, not even at post-war reunions.

They met in the USA at a 379th Bomber Group reunion, together with 5 people who are alive now — all because Franz never fired his guns that day.

Research shows that Charlie Brown lived in Seattle and Franz Stigler had moved to Vancouver, BC after the war. When they finally met, they discovered they had lived less than 200 miles apart for the past 50 years!!

Snopes was able to verify the truth of the story. Sadly, Franz Stigler died in March 2008.

Here’s what Snopes added to the story:

It had taken 46 years, but in 1989 Brown found the mysterious man in the ME-109. Careful questioning of Stigler about details of the incident removed any doubt.

Stigler, now 80, had emigrated to Canada and was living near Vancouver. After an exchange of letters, Brown flew there for a reunion. The two men have visited each other frequently since that time and have appeared jointly before Canadian and American military audiences. The most recent appearance was at the annual Air Force Ball in Miami in September [1995], where the former foes were honored.

In his first letter to Brown, Stigler had written: “All these years, I wondered what happened to the B-17, did she make it or not?”

She made it, just barely. But why did the German not destroy his virtually defenseless enemy?

“I didn’t have the heart to finish off those brave men,” Stigler later said. “I flew beside them for a long time. They were trying desperately to get home and I was going to let them do it. I could not have shot at them. It would have been the same as shooting at a man in a parachute.”

What a really remarkable story, and what a show of respect from one warrior to another. It’s a story that desperately needed to be told.

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I’m home again after a terrific but hectic and exhausting weekend at my 25th reunion at my alma mater, Dickinson College. I will spare you the gory details. Suffice it to say that it was truly wonderful catching up with old friends, fraternity brothers, and classmates whom I have not seen in 25 years. There were 20 in my pledge class. Two transferred and one flunked out, meaning 17 of us graduated. Seven of us made it back this weekend, and we had a great time getting caught up on the years that have flown by.

And Susan’s really a good sport for coming along to suffer through stories that mean nothing to her, and meeting all of these people that I’ve known for years, but which have no real significance to her. She’s a great sport, and I love her for it. I only dragged her along because if she hadn’t come, I would not have had a single weekend with her in the month of June. Kudos to Susan for going above and beyond the call of duty.

I also had a very successful book signing at the college bookstore Saturday morning. Many of the purchases were by my classmates, and they pretty much bought up every copy of both One Continuous Fight: The Retreat from Gettysburg and the Pursuit of Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia, July 4-14, 1863 and Plenty of Blame to Go Around: Jeb Stuart’s Controversial Ride to Gettysburg that they had purchased for the event. I even had a couple of Carlisle residents with no connection to the college come by to pick up signed copies of the books, which was very cool indeed.

I had a blast, but I’m worn out. I then had to mow the lawn when I got home, which didn’t help things much. I have three days in the office tomorrow, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and then it’s off to Virginia to lead battlefield tours.

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Tomorrow, I head to my 25th reunion at my alma mater, Dickinson College. It’s another 6.5 hours of driving to Carlisle, Pennsylvania, but I think it will be worth it. It hardly seems possible that I could have graduated from there 25 years ago and that I could possibly be 47 years old, but alas, both are true. I haven’t seen most of my classmates in 25 years, and I’m greatly looking forward to seeing some of my old friends and drinking companions after all these years. The college invited me to come back to conduct a signing on Saturday morning, and they made it an offer I couldn’t refuse by picking up the tab for the entire trip, including hotel. That made it a real no-brainer.

I will be back Sunday night. I seriously doubt that I will have an opportunity to post anything here before then, so have a great weekend and I will see you when I return.

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