It's Mardi Gras

How about a taste of Mardi Gras from Bourbon Street?



Check out the Bourbon Cam and others.

Typical parade view on St Charles Avenue

I have the day off. After our little parade in Covington, I'll grill some burgers and just enjoy the day. I hope your Mardi Gras is a good one.



Until the next time

John Strain

Scratching My Back

Since I went back to lifting weights 7 months ago, I have been noticing some pretty good gains in the physique. Call me vain, but I check my progress in front of the mirror 10 times a day occasionally. I think this behavior is a guy thing. It only makes sense. You work hard to slim down and firm up then you check to see if it is working. The other night I was giving my body an inspection before shaving, when I noticed my latissimus dorsi muscles had developed quite well. Information like this is too important to keep to yourself, so I showed Barbara.



Barbara is used to me coming up to her and saying things like, "Check this out," while I am flexing one muscle or another. "Go on, touch it, squeeze it, it's hard as a freaking brick, huh?" She humors me, but just barely. So as she is going through the motions this time, she says, "What is that?" "What's what?" I said. She went on to say there were scratches on my back. I began trying to recall any recent back trauma I had received, but nothing came to mind. I offered a few explanations. "Maybe they came from a weight bar when I was doing my squats." They were too low though, right between my shoulder blades. "What do they look like?" I said. "Finger nails." She said. Then I responded, "Oh I remember now, my girlfriend did that the other day, hehe." She was not amused.

To my knowledge, no one had scratched me in or out of the throws of passion. Somehow though, what was supposed to be an ego massage for me, turned into a Perry Mason episode with me as the defendant. I began to feel guilty and think of an aliby. Then I had a flash of genius, maybe I scratched myself. I was going to reach around to see if my hand could touch the scratches. This was a risky move second only to OJ trying on that damn glove.



I took my right hand and went over the top. "Am I reaching the scratches?" I asked her. "Yes," she said, "you must have done it." Pheeww! I dodged another bullet. I am always amazed at how quickly I can seemingly be in trouble when I am innocent. I think that is a chick thing.



Until the next time

John Strain

You Can Fly

What is possible?

Is there anything we cannot do?

Is there something you would like to do, but you think it is impossible?

Muhammad Ali said:

Champions aren't made in gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them: A desire, a dream, a vision. They have to have last-minute stamina, they have to be a little faster, they have to have the skill and the will. But the will must be stronger than the skill. When I was boxing I would set a goal for myself to demonstrate to other people what could be done, and to prove to myself that anything was possible when I set a goal then worked to achieve it. We create our own realities according to our thoughts and beliefs.

Then I ran across this quote in an email I received from Peak Performance

Whether you like the idea or not, most of us put up psychological barriers that interfere with our performance and enjoyment of our sport.



The four-minute mile was the classic example of a psychological barrier. Runners were consistently achieving times of 4:03, 4:02 and 4:01, but no one could apparently run under four minutes. This led to a common perception that running a mile in less than four minutes was physically impossible. Almost everyone believed it.



Remarkably, though, within 18 months of Roger Bannister’s famous breakthrough 16 other athletes had managed the feat.



Did these athletes suddenly get faster and train harder? No: the floodgates opened because Bannister had breached the psychological barrier and demonstrated what was possible. Athletes were no longer limited by their beliefs.

History and our halls of heroes are filled with men and women who believed in something others thought was impossible. John F. Kennedy boldly set the goal to land a man on the moon before the end of the decade. Neil Armstrong's footprints on the lunar surface fulfilled that dream.



I want to challenge you today to dream and then to set the wheels in motion to realize that dream. We are only limited by our feeble views of what is possible. Listen to the song, "I Believe I Can Fly" for some inspiration.



Song: I Believe I can Fly



Here's to those who dream and endeavor to make them reality.



Until the next time

John Strain

"Treat"ed Like a Dog

OK, I know I'm a blind guy and all, but some things are just unsafe good vision or not. Take my snack shelf for instance. At first blush it may seem like a normal pantry scene, but evil lurks here. When I need a snack, I frequent this area of the kitchen. I am not very picky, so I often grab a bag without looking and head for the TV to enjoy some chips or whatever is in the package. Anything on this shelf should be fit for human consumption, but it is not. Take a look at the shelf and see if you see a problem. (I promise, there will be no loud screaming demon lunge at you if you gawk at this photo.)

Now look at the next picture where I turned some of the bags around.

I nearly ate some freaking dog biscuits the other day because of this. I am going to have to speak to Barbara about a “dog biscuit free zone” or something. This all started because Hobo would help himself to his dog treats, which were kept on the pantry floor. Whenever the pantry door was left open, he would be wolfing down whatever he could reach. To out smart the gluttonous pooch, we placed his treats on the shelf. Now that he is old and barely able to walk, we could probably lower the dog yummies and ensure I only snack on human chips.



This reminds me of the time I grabbed the Preparation H instead of my toothpaste one morning. My tongue disappeared for about 8 hours. Then there was the time I thought a bottle of Tabasco sauce was Visene. Not really. I'm not that daft. Sometimes I open the freezer door instead of the microwave to heat my cup of water. It is funny what you can do when you leave your body on autopilot while your brain thinks about other things.



What about you? Have you ever absent mindedly done one thing instead of the other? Let’s hear about it.



Until the next time

John Strain

Still Thinking About Justin

Al from Al's Ramblings reminded me that I said I would post about the funeral of Justin McLeese, a local Marine who was killed fighting in Fallujah November 13, 2004. That week was emotionally draining. From the time we learned of Justin's death on Sunday until the funeral on Friday, I was experiencing feelings of sadness, respect, compassion, and gratitude. I hurt for Justin, his family, his young girlfriend, my son and his friends, and myself. Justin touched a lot of lives with his life and he touched a lot of lives with his death.



I had taken Friday off before we learned of Justin's death. I was glad to find out I would be able to attend the visitation and funeral. John came in from LSU that Friday morning. Two of his other friends, Ben and Will met us at the house and we walked to the church for the 11:00 AM visitation. The mood was somber and we talked about Justin, still finding it hard to believe he was gone. There was also a patriotic flavor to our conversation that carried for the rest of the day. It was a day to mourn the loss of Justin, but it was a day to honor his service and contribution to his country. Justin died for us and we were grateful.



Approaching the church revealed a line of people stretching out the door all the way to the street. We took our place and began greeting those we knew. Voices were respectfully low and many shook with emotion. This event truly had an affect on our whole community. The line of mourners continued to grow and eventually wound down the street to the end of the block. I was proud so many were coming to honor Justin. It was a beautiful day weather wise. The contrast was not lost on me. Though the skies were blue and the sun was burning warm, it did not eliminate the sounds of crying nor hide the solemn faces of those in attendance. How could it be? How could this young man's life be over? Questions with no satisfactory answer, the reality kept striking back like a superior boxer, only inflicting pain in the heart, instead of the body.



It took a while, but we worked our way to the front of the church where Justin lay inside a flag draped casket. A marine guard was posted and the family was greeting people as they filed by. I felt so bad for them in their pain and wondered how they could endure such sadness. It was gut wrenching to watch and unimaginable to comprehend what they were going through. The family was very gracious and seemed to be trying to set others at ease. They exhibited thanks and gratitude for those who came.



We sat in a pew for a few moments after being greeted by Justin's family. We just took in the sights and sounds and each of us were quiet with our own thoughts. The news headlines had come home to us all, now one of our fine young men was gone.



We had some time before the funeral at 2:00 PM so we went to a nearby Subway for lunch. We continued to talk about Justin and Iraq. The boys talked about every Justin memory they had. We went back to the house and watched a video of Justin and the whole gang from Jr. high School. It made us laugh and it made us cry.



We wanted to make sure we had a place to sit, so we went back to the church about 1:30 PM, 30 minutes early, but still had to sit near the back. The church would eventually be filled to capacity, about 500 people.



Retired Archbishop Philip Hannan, himself a paratrooper with the 82nd Airborne in WWII, spoke first about Justin. His words were both uplifting and comforting. He told us that Justin did not die in vain and his sacrifice was for an important cause.



Later, different family members and friends spoke about Justin. During this time, it was almost as if Justin were still there. We laughed and cried as stories were told from the poignant to the humorous. It is a cliché to refer to an emotional roller coaster, but that is exactly what it was.



From Justin's sister, to his girlfriend he had met at a Mardi Gras parade, to his uncle, and other friends, we were reminded of just how special Justin was. The stories showed us how special a person he was, which served to make the loss seem greater.



Those moments of comfort ended when the funeral was concluding. Very quietly the song "I Can Only Imagine" by Mercy Me (see below) began playing. Six Marines in dress uniforms lifted Justin’s casket. Led and flanked by Marines, the casket was slowly carried from the church to the awaiting hearse. Many could no longer contain their sorrow and it was at this moment the sounds of grief were the loudest. I am hard pressed to conjure anything more sad or tragic than for a family to lose a young son. We all shed tears as Justin was slowly carried down the aisle.

Outside the church were news cameras, and lots of vehicles. We walked quickly to our car so we could get to the graveside. We did not drive in the funeral procession due to the logistics of where we were parked. The cemetery was only two miles away. We drove there, parked and took a position where we could see.



We kept watching for the procession and then we saw the flashing lights of the police escort. Each of the police jurisdictions was represented including the St Tammany Sheriff, State, and local police - five or six different police bodies in all. A number of police motorcycles were there too.



The hearse carrying Justin stopped and the Marines reverently carried the casket to the graveside. Words were said, taps was played, and the startling report of 21 guns echoed across the Covington dusk and amidst the cries of those who loved Justin. A fallen Marine was laid to rest. He was faithful. He completed his mission bravely. A good citizen was laid to rest. He had answered the call of his country. He gave his life like so many before him, men who have secured our freedom and our way of life by giving their lives. A beloved son, brother, and friend was laid to rest. Many mourned him. His absence will leave a hole in their hearts.



Those who knew Justin well, referred to him as JM. A bumper sticker was printed and distributed which read "JM Forever." It also displays the Marine logo. This sticker is prominent in Justin's neighborhood and on many cars in the area. Justin's service and sacrifice will not be forgotten, but his spirit and smile will be missed.



The Bible says it best: Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:13) Justin demonstrated such a love.



Rest in peace Justin McLeese



Until the next time

John Strain

---

Related posts from the archives:

A Death in November

More About: Where Do We Find Such Men?

Honoring a Hero

---

Other links with information about Justin:

National Public Radio (audio) story about Justin and two others who were killen in Iraq

January 28, 2005 News Banner article by Brian Bossetta on what would have been Justin's 20th birthday

---

Information about how Justin died:

Lance Corporal Justin McLeese of Covington, Louisiana enlisted in the Marine Corps after graduating from Covington High School. He wanted to join the Marines after the events of 9/11 and in his own words "it is an experience I want in my life". He was deployed to Iraq in July, 2004.



From Lt. Colonel W.A. Buhl, U. S. Marine Corps in Iraq: "Our battalion was recently involved in sustained high intensity urban combat in the City of Fallujah, Iraq. The resistance we encountered and the combat that ensued was as fierce as anything I have witnessed over my 23-year career. Your brave son, Justin, was in the thick of this action. Fighting the enemy inside of a house, he was wounded and continued to fight to protect his brother Marines. Regrettably, the enemy is believed to have detonated a massive explosive charge inside the house that took Justin's life and wounded a number of other Marines in India Company. Justin's performance of duties in the Battalion greatly exceeded our already high expectations. We will cherish his memory as a man and a United States Marine, for the honorable way he lived, and in recognition of the selfless service and sacrifice he rendered for God, Country and his brother Marines."



Justin was 19 years old. He was assigned to 3rd Battalion, 1st Marine India Company based out of Camp Pendleton, CA. His bravery and courage are much appreciated. He is a recipient of the Purple Heart with numerous awards pending. His heroism is inspirational. JM Forever.