Friday
Sep052003

The "B" Word



Not long ago in our morning intake meeting one of my coworkers passed a "sex education" book to a guy who was preparing to have the "sex talk" with his 11 year old son. Being adults we passed the book around and made base comments all for the sake of laughter.



As the conversation continued I was asked the question, "How did it go when you had the "sex talk" with your son? "I can't remember if I ever did," I said not realizing that I was condemning myself and admitting to being a horrible father. When the boos and jeering stopped, I thought for a while and came to the conclusion that I had attempted to have the talk once, but was informed by my son that he already knew all of "that stuff." They taught sex education in school and his friends answered his other questions to his satisfaction. I explained to him that sex on TV and in the movies was not the way it happens in real life. This was the main point my wife Barbara wanted me to stress. She had fears of her little boy being influenced by these media forms turning him into a sex fiend. He was in seventh or eighth grade at the time of that little talk.



Then I remembered another talk we had years earlier when John was 8 years old. It was a typical Saturday. I was cutting the grass and John was playing with the neighbor girl from across the street. Glancing up from the mower I saw the two kids standing nearby looking inquisitive. John walked over to me and asked me something, but I could not hear over the buzzing mower. Stopping the mower I asked him to repeat what he said. In a quite sheepish voice he said, "do we have a dictionary?" Asking for a dictionary was obviously a strange request. I knew something was up, but did not interrogate him with a lot of "whys." "Sure," I said in a matter-of-fact way, it is in the bookshelf. I figured he wanted to look up a word he was too embarrassed to ask me about. My guess was something like, fart, poop, idiot, asshole, penis, or any number of like words.



I went back to my mowing and he ran off with his friend to look up his secret word. Within a few minutes I glanced up again to find the two etymologists wanting to ask me another question. I again killed the mower and John came over to me while Jennifer stayed back. "What's up?" I questioned. "Dad, some kids were calling me a bad name at school the other day." "What did they call you," I inquired. He became more nervous and rocked from one foot to the other. "I don't want to say it because I will get in trouble." I was getting curious, what had they called him? I knew I could explain anything one of his peers called him. John continued, "It is the "B" word. I tried to look it up in my Muppet Dictionary, but it just said ball then something else. In my fatherly understanding voice I was preparing to amaze him by telling him the word he was too afraid to utter. "Did they call you a bitch?", I asked. "No", he said looking at the ground and moving leaves around with one foot. "Did they call you a bastard?", I used my last choice. "No," he said again. "Then what did they call you son?" I was still imitating Ward Cleaver with the all-knowing, gentle act. He said, "they called me a birgin, but I told them I wasn't one." "What is a birgin daddy?" I told him the truth, "son you mean "virgin." A virgin is someone who has not had sex." He nodded his head as if he understood, but I did not think he did. "You are a virgin and that is OK for now." "Just ignore them when they call you names." He ran off to play and I continued mowing the grass chuckling to myself.



I still tease him about the "B" word every now and then. He is not a virgin when it comes to his dad kidding with him.



Until the next time

John Strain

Thursday
Sep042003

College Hijinx



As a tribute to those returning to college I thought I would share a couple of my stories of "college hijinx." I attended a small college in Bolivar, Missouri named Southwest Baptist College. Today it is a university. I lived in the dorm all four years and we had some pretty good times.



Dropping the Pants: I had the same roommate for three years. Steve got married between our junior and senior year. This worked out pretty good because I ate a lot of meals at his house. My new roommate Chris and I went to Steve and Belinda's house several times a week. The usual routine was to eat then either watch TV or play 500 or throw a football around.



On this one evening the plan was to eat then play some baseball. To keep from having to carry clothes around I put on some gym shorts under my jeans. This way after supper, all I had to do was take off the jeans and I was ready to play. During supper I received a flash of inspiration. Wouldn't it be funny, I thought, if I unbuckled my belt and dropped my pants in front of Belinda. There would be no harm done and it would surely freak her out to see her husbands good friend dropping his pants.



So after we ate we watched a little TV to let the food settle. I was standing off to Belinda's side who was sitting watching TV. I then went into my faux pants dropping routine. I unbuckled the belt, unbuttoned the button, then unzipped the fly. I could tell I had her attention, but she was still facing the TV and watching me out of the corner of her eye. Then I dropped the pants down to my ankles. She let out a gasp, but noticed I was still wearing shorts. My little prank brought the results I expected. We all laughed, played baseball, then Chris and I returned to Beasley Hall.



Once upstairs, we lived on the fourth floor, I was regaling my fellow residents with the practical joke I had played on Steve's wife earlier in the evening. I decided it would be better to just show them what I did. "Hey guys, let me show you what I did to Steve's wife earlier - it was great." They watched as I unbuckled my belt and made a repeat performance. When I got to the drop-the-pants part I gave the jeans the same quick downward thrust only this time the shorts and the drawers went with the jeans to rest at my ankles. They were treated to the "full monty." The audience of guys went silent for a few seconds and their puzzled expressions quickly changed to looks of assurance that I indeed was nuts. I awkwardly explained how what I just did in front of them is not what I did in front of Belinda. The joke could have been on me especially since I did not let her husband in on what I had planned to do.




Invisible Toilet Cover: One of my favorite pranks was to put plastic wrap over the prankee's toilet. If it worked properly, the victim would urinate only to see the stream bounce off of the heretofore invisible plastic shield. Depending on the urinator's problem solving skills the result could be a puddle on the floor, wet jeans, or just a sink that needed cleaning because of unintended usage.




Late for Class: I am not sure how this one got started, but once it was in play, revenge kept it alive. The joke was to hold a person down by force until they were late for their class. This joke required collaboration to ensure its success. The necessary elements were a knowledge of the intended victim's schedule and their habits. The next ingredient was several guys to help hold the victim down. The rest was a big cat and mouse game. The pranksters wanted to grab the mark just as he was leaving for class. This stunt was also about art. It would be considered gosh to hold the victim down for 20 or 30 minutes. That would get the job done, but we were after more. The victim knew he was a target most of the time and might make a run for it if the opportunity were to arise. For insurance the pranksters might be looking over the victim's notes or textbook, anything considered too important for the victim to leave behind. Many decisions had to be made on both sides. Do we grab him now? Do I run now and just leave the book? I had some close calls. I had to run for my life once down four flights of stairs and halfway to class before they broke off the chase.



One other time I knew it was my turn and two of my suite mates had me in their sights. I acted as though nothing were going on and so did they. Steve was sitting on his bed by the door so my exit was blocked. Chris was moving around the room making sure I did not have any sort of opening. When it came time for me to go to class I started for the door, but Steve grabbed me from behind. Chris got me from the front and started pushing. The three of us took a few steps backward then we lost our balance when we hit the bed. I heard a loud thud as Steve's head sandwiched between my back and the cinder block wall. He laid on the bed motionless, out cold. In about 5 to 10 seconds Steve began to come around - but still groggy. I told Chris, "man, I've got to get to class, tell Steve I'm sorry," and I grabbed my books and took off. I sat in class wondering if Steve was OK. I halfway expected cops to come in and arrest me for the murder of Steve, but it did not happen. Steve was OK, but I think that was the last time we tried that little prank.




There were many others, but how about you? What pranks did you pull or were victims of? Leave a comment. And, here's to the college folk. Have fun while learning - it will be great blog material in 20 or 30 years.



Until the next time

John Strain

Wednesday
Sep032003

A Positive Outlook



I have been sampling blogs and many of them are dark, depressing, hopeless, angry, blaming, hating, finger pointing, and overall negative in tone. One 15 year old boy wrote "life is shit and people are shit, everything sucks." I know there is pain and suffering in the world. There is injustice and poverty. To allow these things to define life is to ignore beauty, love, hope, endurance, enthusiasm, faith, and laughter.



Not convinced? Then read on and learn what is positive about YOU, OTHERS, THE WORLD, AND TRANSCENDENCE.




YOU: What is positive about you? For starters you "are." You exist and are worthy of respect. You have senses to see, hear, smell, touch, and taste your environment. Take each sense one at a time and think about its own ecstasies.



What beauty have you seen? White birds against a brilliant blue sky. Falling snow. A rainbow. The smile of someone who loves you. An orange sunset on the ocean. A waterfall.



What have you heard? A whispered "I love you" in the dark. The breathing of your love sleeping by your side. Your child calling to you. A symphony. A screaming guitar. A crowd cheering for your team or maybe even you for some accomplishment.



What have you smelled? Baking bread. The scent of your child or love. Cotton candy at the circus. Popcorn at the movies. The rain. Fall. Freshly cut grass. Steaks on a charcoal grill. Freshly shampooed hair. Fresh coffee in the morning.



What have you touched? A little hand clasping your finger. Holding and caressing your love. Shaking the hand of a friend. The soft fur of a kitten. A warm bath. The cool grass on bare feet. The feel of clean sheets. A warm bed in winter.



What have you tasted? A fresh kiss. Chocolate cake. Lobster. Ocean water. Ice water when you are parched. Warm fudge. Insert your favorite taste here.



These senses give us information and our brain uses it to create something greater than the sum of its parts. We can reason and hang on and endure. We can choose not to quit and not to hate and not to be negative. Human history is full of examples of people who have overcome struggle and hardship to become great and to do great things.



Those who succeed are not the gifted necessarily or the wealthy or the best physical specimens. Those who succeed have learned how to tap their almost limitless resources within themselves. They believe and they hope and they work. They do not give in and they do not give up. They know they are working for something special and will endure difficulties to succeed. Set backs will only delay their success not destroy it.



The tools necessary to succeed are within. I once went to a professor in seminary to talk about some things I was disillusioned about. He listened to me and agreed that what was bothering me was real. Then he said this, "you are in a spiritual desert. You have come to me hoping I would give you water or show you where the water is. I cannot do that, but I can tell you the water is there and if you continue to search for it you will find it." I stopped looking for "the answer" and began looking for "an answer." All I really needed was a little assurance and support. He helped me through my struggle.



Struggle helps us. It shapes our character. It helps us appreciate what we often take for granted. The baby bird must struggle to be hatched. If it is helped out of the egg it will die. Without struggle we become spoiled. We expect things to always be right, to always work and that is not reality.



My parents and grandparents knew struggle from living through the Depression and for living through the World War II years. That generation learned to depend on themselves to survive. They did not choose hardship, but they met the challenge - what was the alternative?



YOU come from good stock. Look what others accomplished with less. How much more do we have today in the way of technology and knowledge. We only lack some confidence and the opportunity. I have faith in you. I know of what you are capable.




OTHERS: Ridicule, gossip, slander, and verbal attacks can become a habit. It is all too common today. It is modeled in political campaigns and on news talk shows. There is a serious lack of respect and kindness in too much of society. One can present a point and even disagree respectfully. This, however, has become all to infrequent.



We have all had the experience of not liking someone, but after getting to know them ended up liking them or at least no longer disliking them. This is because we begin to see the things we have in common and not just the things we do not have in common. How boring would be the world if we were all alike. Diversity is what makes life interesting.



In the hospital where I work people often find themselves grouped in ways they would never choose. African Americans, rednecks, rich, poor, gay, straight, old, and young. Because of their differences they would never interact on the outside, but all sharing the common thread of psychiatric inpatient care, they almost always gain respect for each other. I have seen it many times and it always feels good to see barriers melt away through the power of tolerance and genuine respect.



Interdependence basically means we depend on each other in society. Each citizen does "something" and if we all "do something" we all benefit. Because people do their jobs, we enjoy electricity, water, fresh food nearby, roads, medical care, and so on. Interdependence is another reason to appreciate others. If you, however, like to abuse store clerks and fast food workers, read some of these stories from customerssuck.com. They will teach you what passive aggressive is all about. Maybe then you will realize our interdependence. The little people, insignificant, and unimportant can make your life miserable based on your actions. They can also enrich your life, but they give you what you give them. Be nice.



If you love yourself and if you enjoy support and encouragement then pass it on. Kindness and joy are contagious. You choose each day how you will interact with others. Make it positive, spread kindness and goodwill. Do you remember the fable about the lion who spared the mouse. One day the mouse helped remove the thorn from the lion's paw. You never know how something you do today will come back to you tomorrow. It works both ways too, meanness is repaid as is kindness.




THE WORLD: The world is a fascinating place. It abounds in natural beauty that even cities and man made structures cannot conceal. Each day a new sunrise and sunset is painted on a canvas for those with awareness to savor. The landscapes are dynamic and each season's beauty exhausts our descriptive adjectives.



Yes the world can be harsh. Nature is not kind. We are susceptible to disease and natural disaster. But even in the hurricanes and erupting volcanoes there is order and beauty. The world is predictable. We know we will someday die. We know that those we love will die too. We cannot change these harsh realities, but we can choose to live for today. If we drink in each day and live it fully we will not be full of regrets when our bodies begin to fail us and life's tragedies begin to assail us.



Do not expect the world to revolve around you or to adjust to you. Instead adjust to it, learn how it works do not act so surprised when hardships come they are inevitable. We learn from everything even hardship and pain. Allow yourself to learn these lessons in their time.




TRANSCENDENCE: To love yourself, to love others, and to live life as it comes is more easily done with a sense of transcendence. In 12 Step Programs this is the Higher Power. If you are a Christian it would be God. You do not have to be religious, but a sense of transcendence is a source of strength. One need not ponder the night sky for long without feeling small. Where did all of this come from? There are forces at work in our universe beyond us. Some religions believe this power is accessible. A sense of transcendence helps us make sense out of things. Why are we here? What are we supposed to do? What do you value? What are your priorities?



One of the things I did when I worked with batterers (domestic violence), was a values exercise. Why values? Because values transcend us. A person would die for their highest values. At the end of the exercise, men would have identified the three or four things they valued most. Usually it was their family, wife, kids, God, or country. I would then make a statement and ask a few questions. You have identified what you value most. Now think about how you are living. Are you living as though they were your highest priority? Do you spend your time and money on these things or relationships? Ask yourself these questions.



To counteract negativity involves our conscious efforts. We must choose to be positive. You are not shit. Other people are not shit. The world does not suck. On the contrary. You are a unique masterpiece. We are interdependent on others who are themselves unique masterpieces. We all live in a magnificent world and if we think about it long enough we feel the transcendent and act in ways that more respect ourselves, others, and the world. Through this sense of transcendence we realize there is something or someone beyond us and that makes us more powerful and innovative and creative and loving than we could ever be on our own.



Life is good. Life is short. Live it fully. Love your neighbor. Look to God.

Until the next time

John Strain

Tuesday
Sep022003

The Prostate Exam



When it comes to talking about medical experiences women have men beat hands down. As a man working in a hospital I am in the minority. The women, however, are accepting of me and usually include me in their conversations. I can hold my own with subjects such as parenting, landscaping, and even cooking. But when it comes to medical problems I would be better off keeping my mouth closed.



I had to learn this the hard way though. Once during a conversation in which the women were trying to "one up" the other with their medical horror stories about endometriosis and child birth, I interjected my ordeal about a nasty case of the shingles. They all stopped and looked at me for a moment - I think I sensed pity - then they returned to their conversation and continued regaling each other with the details of their tortures at the hands of doctors and other men.



I concede that men are not in the same league as women with respect to physical problems. I am not complaining either. Although the tone of this blog is humorous I sincerely respect women for what they must endure in life due to their unique physiology. You ladies are tough.



Still, men have some things worth noting and one of them is the prostate exam. Unfortunately, men, it seems would rather die of prostate cancer than have the exam. Just read this article about a failed "free prostate exam promotion" at a Pittsburgh Pirates game.



The first prostate exam I received was not planned. I had a head cold. Normally I would gut it out, but I had to deliver a presentation in a couple of days so I hoped the doctor could speed the process of recovery. I did not want to have to pause every minute or so at the talk to blow my nose or cough.



"Well, Mr. Strain, you haven't been in here for a while," the doctor said as he thumbed through my chart. I proudly replied, "Nope, I have been pretty healthy." Then I took the opportunity to tell him about how much I ran every day, blah, blah, blah. "I don't see where you have ever had a prostate exam," he continued still looking at the chart. "No, I haven't had one," I said now losing some of the bravado that accompanied the running report. "We might as well do it as long as you are here," he reasoned. He was right, I probably would not be back until I sustained a running injury or something. I was trapped by the medical prudence of the situation and my own allegiance to logic.



He began instructing me through the procedure. "Drop your pants and underwear to your ankles and lean on the exam table with your elbows." I listened to his directions intently trying to do exactly as he said like the pilot in the movies taking instructions from ground control attempting to land the plane. "Now you are going to feel a little bit of pressure," he said grossly understating what I was to experience. A little bit of pressure is like saying the sun is a little hot. It felt like he used a telephone pole to probe my prostate. "Doc, that wrist watch is cold." "Doc, do you have to use both hands." At least he only had one hand on my shoulder unlike the poor guy who realized along with the pressure he a hand on each shoulder. I felt like I was going to go to the bathroom all over myself, but thankfully did not. "You're OK," he said setting a box of tissues on the exam table, "you can clean yourself up." I felt so cheap, so violated. I used about half of the box of tissues to clean up the KY jelly and realized no amount of tissues would remove the feeling I had. It felt like his finger was still in there. That feeling did not go away for about three days. It took some time to get over the whole experience. I felt sad the next week when he did not call me - no flowers either. But in time things returned to normal.



To date I have probably leaned on the exam table three times. Each time is less traumatic than the first. I get to tell this story every now and then when the ladies are talking about minor medical problems. I make sure to explain how I felt and what it meant to me and about wondering why he did not call. That holds their attention a little better.



September is National Prostate Cancer Awareness Month. If you want some serious information about the prostate exam or about prostate cancer CLICK HERE.



Until the next time

John Strain

Monday
Sep012003

Stupid Things I Have Done



I read the Darwin Awards and feel smug. "I am not that stupid," I assure myself. In fairness though, I have done some stupid things in my life. When I first tried to think of stupid things I had done I could not think of very many items. Thankfully, my wife was more than willing to assist with the project so now I have more items to write about than this blog can handle. I will detail a few and list the rest.



I have already described a few stupid things I have done in previous blogs:



Here are a few other stupid things I have done over the years: (In my own defense, a lot of these things occurred when I was very young.)



  • Leaving my son in a baby swing too long and having to clean up a big poop mess as a result.


  • Stupidly self-inflicting pain as a result of actions while under the influence of anger.


  • Making fun of someone then finding out I was the stupid one.


  • Telling my manager at Red Lobster I rotated the stock when I did not.


  • Went to an LSU football game and forgot my flask.


  • Let a lizard bite me and having it hurt more than I thought it would.


  • Slid down a telephone pole getting big splinter in my leg.


  • Slid down a rope burning my hands.


  • Agreed to listen to an Amway pitch.


  • Blew in a dog's face getting bit.


  • Rented the movie Turtle Diary.


  • Stuck my tongue to a frozen sled.


  • Changed a flight thinking I would get home sooner.


  • Sat on the front row of a Mary Wells concert. I ended up on the stage dancing with her.




Here are some detailed accounts of stupid things I have done:




#1 - LSU football game and innovative flask: Baton Rouge and LSU football is only an hour and fifteen minutes from home. Every year, I usually go to at least one game. LSU games are usually guy trips since the women are not into football, crowds, or standing in line to go to the bathroom. Alcohol is not sold inside Tiger Stadium, but we don't let a little thing like that stop us. The usual method for sneaking alcohol into the game is in a flask concealed in a sock or some other hiding place. The sock method can have some drawbacks. If the flask starts riding out of the sock you have to alter your gate to reverse the slippage. On any given Saturday outside Tiger Stadium there seems to be an inordinate amount of people limping. It's the flask walk.



This one year, my pal Brian scored some tickets from his daughter. She was a student at LSU and warned us that security had increased at the games and even old people like us were being searched for contraband. No problem though, she offered a way around this little inconvenience. "All you do," she explained, "is put your beverage in a ziploc bag then put the bag down the front of your pants." The plan had the simplicity of something ingenious. On game day we gathered our supplies and headed to Baton Rouge.



We reconnoitered at his daughter's apartment and outfitted ourselves with the innovative flask guaranteed to escape detection from the Tiger security staff. We poured the forbidden liquid in the bag and carefully sealed it while removing as much air as possible. We were afraid any excess bulge in the front of our pants might draw attention and foil our scheme.



Now fully stocked, we set out walking the half mile to Tiger Stadium. Along the way I began to feel some discomfort in the area of my genitalia. I said to Brian, "Man, my nads are burning." He said, "mine are too." We found a building to duck behind to investigate the source of the discomfort and learned our ziploc bags were leaking. Brian got the worst of it. It looked like he had pissed his pants. I had a small spot on my jeans, but my drawers were soaked pretty good and the fire in my privates was testament to that fact. Our mission was now a salvage operation and fortunately only a small portion of the Jack Daniels escaped. We put the bags in our jacket pockets and walked right in with no hassle at all from the security staff. All of the planning, extra preparation, and burned genitals were so unnecessary.




#2 - It's the shoes stupid: I used to cycle quite a bit. The first time I entered the MS Tour for Cure I was pretty green as cycling goes. The Tour for Cure is a two day 150 mile ride. I was at the staging area for the start of the ride and I noticed a guy walking weird. His rear end was sticking out, he was leaning forward, and walking like he was wearing swim fins. "Look at that poor bastard," I said to Barbara. "He can't even walk, how is he going to ride a bike 150 miles?" I continued getting my stuff ready. It came time to make one last bathroom run before the start of the race. As I walked in the building on my way to the restroom I noticed another person walking funny, then another, and another, and still another. They were all over the place like "Night of the Living Dead." Then I realized it was the shoes. They were wearing cycling shoes that have rigid soles. I was wearing tennis shoes. I was the dope. I had a good laugh at myself over that one.




#3 - Godzilla: One day I was looking for something in my back room. Stuff was piled all over the place and I was digging through some junk. While I was bent over about to move something I realized I was staring into the face of a big lizard about one foot away. Sometimes smaller lizards get in the house - if so, I grab them and toss them outside. This one was about 6 inches long and much bigger looking. I looked around and found a box lid. After knocking the lizard on the floor I then trapped him in the box lid. Once trapped I went to my shed and got some gloves and a jar. Through some awkward gyrations I succeeded in getting the lizard in the jar. He was a big green lizard and John and I were looking at him like a couple of kids at show-and-tell. I told John that people take these lizards and hang them on their ears like earrings. They do not hurt you or anything. I guess I had watched the "Crocodile Hunter" too much because I went one step further. "Here, let me show you," I lectured with confidence and authority. I took off the glove and took the lid off of the jar. Sticking out my right index finger I slowly moved it toward the lizard at which point he chomped the end of my finger. It hurt, but mostly it scared me. I jerked my whole arm back like I had touched fire. "Did it hurt daddy?" John inquired. Oh a little bit, but not bad. "Do you want to try it?" I offered him the chance to be as stupid as his father. "No way," he said without hesitation. Who says kids do not learn from their parent's mistakes?




#4 - Lawn Mower Man: When I was a kid I liked to get old lawn mowers and try to fix them. Eventually, I learned how to completely rebuild them and it is a useful skill today. Anyone who has done mechanical work will tell you it can be maddening at times.



This one day I was taking the engine off of one lawn mower to put on another lawn mower frame. While pushing a wrench, it slipped off of the bolt and my knuckles scraped the engine block. I became angry because this was about the tenth thing that had gone wrong in a brief period of time. I stood up real fast and frustrated not realizing the other lawn mower was so close. When I stood up, the handle of the other mower hit me just behind the ear lobe. That hurt even worse and I became even more angry. My knuckles were bleeding and my head now hurt. I took a look at a trash barrel 6 feet away and made it the target to unleash the rest of my anger. I kicked it as hard as I could and felt as though I broke my foot. From poor wrench technique, to headache, to one good foot in less than 15 seconds. It left a lasting impression though and that incident cured me at a young age of letting my anger get physical.




Maybe when I read the Darwin Awards I should not feel smug but grateful I am not reading about myself.



Until the next time

John Strain