It's a miracle

It's a miracle you know. No, not the fact that you are reading my words, although that in itself is pretty special. Think about it. I am in Louisiana and sitting in front of a machine on which I push buttons. Those key presses appear on a screen. When the lines and squiggles are just the way I want them, I push another button and my gibberish is converted into electronic pulses.

The pulses travel over wires and air and instantaneously appear on your screen, in your country, in your home, and on your machine. You stare at the squiggles and know what I thought and felt. If you like what you read, hate what you read, or feel the need to respond to my offering, you push some of your own buttons and soon I will know what you think about what I thought.

Yes that is pretty special and some may consider all of that a miracle, but all of that is man made. The miracle of which I speak is not made of man. Man cannot begin to comprehend the complexities of this miracle.

The miracle is you and me and us. Have you considered what is involved to sense? We do it so effortlessly it seems simple, but how do you see and hear and feel and smell and taste?

Man can make devices that can detect motion and mimic sight, but they are far cries from the human eye. Hard wired to our brains, the eye senses light with amazing sensitivity. It is with our eyes we see the subtle changes in a face and we know if we are loved or if we have amused another. We know what fear and sadness look like.

Think of the beauty you have seen; the rippling muscles on a horse in full gallop, a rainbow rooted in mountain mist, the hypnotic movement of a corn field in tassle, or the sight of your infant child in sleep.

Our eyes treat us to some amazing sights.

What is that you hear? How do your ears work? Can man make such a device? Our ears alert us to danger and translate sound into feelings of poignancy and awe.

Think of the things you have heard; your parents calling you by your pet name, a gentle rain, a whisper in the dark, strains of music that send chills down your spine, the roar of a crowd, a waterfall, the fluttering wings of a butterfly, the sound of your own heart in the pillow.

Do the math. Consider your other senses like taste, touch, and smell. What of the pleasures they bring us?

Then there are our thoughts. Our bodies manipulate chemicals to create electricity, which in turn powers our hearts and fires synapses. Our brains are collections of billions of cells formed in a unique pattern to make you the way you are. We are unique, special, yes - a miracle.

Our thoughts summon our limbs to move. Have you studied the complexeties of movement? Have you ever realized how your muscles, bones, tendons, and joints work in concert to move us.

Walking is spectacular enough, but we can run, dance, jump, and move in ways far beyond our comprehension. If you ask the athlete how he jumps so high, he says, "I just do it." We can all jump and run. We have all danced and walked.

We can know. We can think and ponder the abstract. We can look at ourselves objectively. We can dream things up and make them happen. Our thoughts are amazing. Being able to think is part of the miracle.

Our thoughts are not imprisoned in our minds. We can express the thoughts through language. We can talk, yell, scream, debate, encourage, convince, and cajole. We can write our thoughts. Our words can be expressed in ways to communicate with folks in other countries through translations.

It is all a miracle. What we sense, that we think and communicate, and that we even live. Our bodies are machines fueled by plants and animals. Blood flows through our veins, organs perform various tasks, and we move through life in a rhythm. We sleep, we wake, we work, we play, we laugh, we love, we cry, and we grow.

Life is a miracle and we are alive. We are special, and unique, we are wonderfully made. What a gift and we receive it freely and without obligation.

Take time to consider and savor your gift; your miracle.

Until the next time
John Strain

The Short Month

February is the short month, but not in personal significance. I ran my first marathon in February and 23 years ago on the 19th I was married.

This year I plan to run two marathons in February only 2 weeks apart. By ultramarathon standards it's not that big of a deal, but personally, it will be another milestone. That means I will have run 3 marathons in 5 weeks.

January 14, Mississippi
February 5, New Orleans
February 19, Pensacola

I think it is a nice touch that the last marathon will be run on my 23rd anniversary. Don't worry ladies, Barbara is fine with this. She likes going to different places and enjoys a few hours alone while I am navigating the 26.2 mile course.

Speaking of February, I grew up in Kansas City and my memories are of cold and snow. Baseball season was just over the horizon, but winter still had us firmly in her grip.

I remember the bulletin boards at school of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. Cutting down the cherry tree, throwing the silver dollar across the Potomac, and the phrase; "I cannot tell a lie." Even though the stories have been shown to be more myth than facts, they were stories that reflected good values. I learned that the early leaders of our country were good men.

I remember the Valentine's Day party too. We had to bring a Valentine to everyone in the class - the teacher made us. This was a difficult thing for a boy. Keep in mind the little plastic covered box of Valentines with which one had to work; not enough variety or the right lines to express my sentiments. There were always a couple of girls in the class I detested and I could not give them a Valentine that mentioned the word "love" or that could be interpreted as me liking them. Then there were the desirable girls in the class. I wanted to give them one that expressed my true feelings of lust love for them, but not too obviously. The boy’s cards did not require as much thought, but one still had to avoid anything too gushy and the word "love." Violations of the above rule resulted in ridicule and accusations that you were queer. It was quite an incubator for little homophobes.

So you see, a simple thing like a Valentine's Day party could be quite stressful. I remember reading my cards as well. I say they were cards, they were really cutouts from a perforated page. I would look to see if the person just signed the card in assembly line fashion or if they wrote a personal note. Much scrutiny and interpretation went into this endeavor. Perhaps the science of forensics came from such a catalyst.

Now that I live in Louisiana, February is blooming azaleas, fragrant sweet olives, and Mardi Gras.

Each month has its charm and even though February is the least as measured by time, it is rich in memories and remembrances of the heart.

Until the next time
John Strain

New Orleans Jokes

Here's some hurricane humor from my inbox. Thanks to my friend Susan for sending them my way.

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St. Peter is manning the Pearly Gates when forty evacuees from New Orleans show up. 

Never having seen anyone from the Big Easy at heaven's door, St. Peter says that he will have to check with God. God instructs him to admit the ten most virtuous people from the group.

A few minutes later St. Peter returns to God breathless and says, "They're gone! They're gone!".

"What? All the New Orleans people are gone?" says God.

"No." replies St. Peter; "The Pearly Gates are gone"

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Ray Nagin, the mayor of New Orleans, was asked his views on Roe vs. Wade. He said he didn't care how people got back to their houses.

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Until the next time
John Strain

Gulfport and Biloxi, Mississippi: Before and after Katrina

See all 32 before and after photos of Biloxi and Gulfport, Mississippi

5 months after the hurricane, evidence of the storm and destruction is still evident. In Covington, where I live, there are still many roofs covered with the blue tarps, FEMA trailers are in driveways, homes are damaged and unoccupied, and debris piles are still on the streets. Linemen are still working stringing cable and collecting the downed wires. Work goes on, but there is just so much of it to do.

New Orleans gets most of the National press, but Mississippi sustained catastrophic damage as well. I received 32 photos in an email that illustrate the damage.

A juxtaposition of one photo from before the storm and one photo from after help to illustrate the extent of the devastation.

I would give the photographer credit for the work, but I do not know who he/she is.

UPDATE: Someone sent me the link for the photo source. The Sun Herald in South Mississippi published these photos. They have them arranged nicely in a Flash animation. Follow this link to see the photos and for the location descriptions.

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HTML tip of the day: To remove the underline from a link, I was typing; style="text-decoration:none" in each link. I knew I could put a line of something in the CSS portion of my template, but I never looked into it until yesterday.

It is easy, of course. All you need to do is add this line between your "head" tags.

A {text-decoration: none}

It's that simple. That removes the underline from all of your links and saves you a lot of typing.

Have a nice Monday.

Until the next time
John Strain

Getting it out of the closet

This is a follow up to yesterday's post. I know I created a bit of a cliffhanger by telling folks I was going to clean out a closet. I can feel the tension building almost as thick as the fog outside. OK, I will stop torturing you. Here are the results.

The task wasn't bad at all. I cranked on some music from my rock play list and went to work. Barbara left on some errands. One of her stops was to take my pile of 15 dress shirts to the cleaners. I probably had that many there to be picked up. In the closet itself, I had another 30 or so. I thinned out 25 dress shirts leaving me, I just counted them, 24 in the closet.

That is still too many. 24 in the closet, 15 at the cleaners, and 2 from Christmas I haven't even opened yet. I have 41 nice dress shirts. I could wear one every day for 8 weeks and never repeat.

Moving on to Polo type shirts. I thinned them down from twenty some to 8. My long-sleeved T's are now down to 8. Those are harder to part with, because they came from races.

The photo above shows 13 pairs of running shoes. After 300 to 400 miles they are not good for running anymore, but perfect for knocking around, going to the river, and mowing the grass. I just don't need 13 pairs of them. I threw out a few pairs, kept a few, and boxed the rest for patients at the hospital.

I am good at acquiring things, but not so good at liquidating. The exception here is money. I have an easy time liquidating my cash reserves and it is hard as the devil to build them up.

My clothes just don't wear out and I suppose that is my standard for getting rid of them. I have a friend who keeps a certain number of pants and shirts. Every so often, when he buys a new pair of pants, he removes a pair of pants from his closet. I lack that kind of clothes discipline.

At least the bar in the closet is not bowed down any longer. I will try to keep it neat this time. Hahahaha. I know that's futile lip service. What makes matters worse is a few years ago, the closet was really bad. I took everything out of it and installed one of those closet organizer kits from The Home Depot. All that did was make it possible to cram more stuff in there.

Still, I am thankful for problems such as these. Most of us Americans have problems of excess not lack. We have too much food leading to too much weight. We have too many cars for our driveways. We have too many clothes for our closets and we have more time and money than most.

What we often lack is patience, discipline, and tolerance. AND I FOR ONE AM TIRED OF WAITING FOR IT AND I AM NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE!!! Just kidding.

It’s time to go out and put some wear on some future lawn mowing shoes I probably won't get rid of until 2053.

Have a nice Sunday.

Until the next time
John Strain