Confessions of an un-indicted Father

I am writing this because I believe the statute of limitations makes it impossible for me to be tried for this crime. It is common knowledge that mothers are more attentive to their children than are fathers. More times than I can count at bar BQ's and other gatherings the kids would be running wild, the mothers would be keeping up with them and doing all of the work, and the men would be standing around drinking beer. Sometimes this awareness entered our minds, but not as a pang of guilt or urge toward responsibility - more like a gloat. Nothing sinister, just the kind of gloat one feels when one receives the last portion of "daily special" at a restaurant. "This is soooo good, too bad for you they ran out."



Part of this predicament is the natural order of things. One cannot escape zillions of years of "eviloution". Mothers cannot stand not knowing where their baby is. Note: Baby refers not to age, but to the child. The mother's need to know never diminishes. Men have to try to care where they are. I am not saying men wish their children ill, just that they do not "worry" or "evaluate supervisory needs" the same as women. So back to the BBQ, as we (the men) stand drinking beer and giving the hamburger chef advice on when to flip the meat someone usually says, "where's the kids anyway?" Another man would chime in, "I don't know." Eventually one of the other men would state the obvious, "I guess the old ladies are keeping up with them." (Note: the term "old ladies" is not intended to be derogatory. In settings where women are not present (within earshot) men's vocabulary selections alter to a "guyeeze" dialect of which "old lady" refers to the woman he loves.) Yes really!



General rules and logic:

1. Women worry more about the kid's whereabouts than do men.

2. This is in part because of evolution as stated above and partly learned behavior.

3. Man reasoning about woman worrying: "She's worrying about the kids and she is competent therefore I don't have to worry about the kids. I can pay less attention since it would be redundant to do so. "

4. Woman reasoning about man not worrying: "He is not concerned, he should be, I need to worry more."



This is a real "Men are From Mars and Women are From Venus" explanation.



Now that I have set up my defense, here is my crime:



One evening when my son was six years old, Barbara had to go out for the evening. I was staying home and changing a fan belt on the washing machine. John was in and out of the house a lot and he had one friend across the street. I let him play. No big deal.



I found that changing a washing machine belt is not as easy as it looks. The first thing to do is unhook the water hoses and power cord. Second, slide the machine away from the wall. Third, pick up 15 socks that have been on the "missing sock list", six ounces of multicolored fuzz, two bent coat hangers, and three pennies. From this point on you need wrenches, screwdrivers, and a healthy vocabulary of swear words. I will spare the reader further detail on replacing a fan belt, but suffice it to say, at least that evening, it was a bitch.



Changing the belt required my full attention. (remember this is a man's nature - not my fault or irresponsibility) When I finally finished, I crawled from behind the washer and stretched out. It really feels good to stretch after being cramped up for so long. I had heard John come in and out of the house a few times during the belt replace process, but could not remember when I heard him last.



I went looking for him, but he was not in the house. I walked out on the driveway and heard no sounds of children playing. It was summer time and nearly dark. Before I could think of another place to search for my son - still not that concerned - Barbara drove up from her outing. THEN I BECAME CONCERNED. Even though I knew John was OK and there was nothing to worry about, I knew Barbara would require hard facts to achieve the same degree of tranquility I felt.



As she got out of the car and walked toward me I just stood there. We greeted each other then she said, "how's John?" "Fine", I said believing this to be the truth. "Where is he," she said as she walked toward the front door ahead of me. What was I to do? I lost my son. I did not know where he was. She would kill me for not knowing. That washing machine had to be fixed. What would we do with no clean clothes? My thoughts were racing and I was spinning in - all of this taking place in three seconds time. Then I heard her say, "Oh, here he is, asleep on the couch." Evidently he came in and fell asleep on the couch while I was working on the fan belt from hell. "I can't believe you left him out here, why didn't you put him in his bed," she scolded. "Oh, let me do that right now dear," I said cooperatively. I gladly took the plea bargain. Not getting busted for the felony, I would take the rap for a couple of misdemeanors any day.



Lucky for fathers, children grow up and look after themselves. I dodged a major bullet that evening. It was probably a while before I told Barbara the truth about that night. I do not remember how much time had elapsed before I did tell her, but I should have waited until John had completely grown and moved away - she did not see the amount of humor in the story like I did.



What can I say, we cannot escape evolution - can we?



Until the next time

John Strain

An Open Letter to Myself

Dear John,

You have had your face in the computer a lot lately so I figure this is a good way to talk with you. Remember to keep your life balanced. If you overdue one area of your life like exercise, play, work, or education, you will most certainly neglect other responsibilities. I know you don't mean for that to happen and you really try to meet your obligations, but sometimes your tendencies are to do more and more while other important things in your life are getting less and less.



I know how you hate to have anyone tell you anything. You are pretty sharp, but can still learn a thing or two. For one thing, you should talk less and listen more. You love to laugh and get the crowd going, but you may be talking over someone who has a good point. A point you will never hear because you are "on".



Refinancing your house sounds like a good business move. 4.875% is great. What would have been even better is if you had curbed your appetites and not run up those credit cards. This time pay as you go. DO YOU HEAR ME - PUT THE CARD DOWN AND BACK AWAY.



For crying out loud walk your "dog" every day. The poor thing has arthritis and exercise would do him some good. He isn't going to be around for ever and you will miss not being able to snap on his leash and go hose the neighborhood. You need him as much as he needs you.



Surprise your wife and do something romantic. If she does not drop dead from shock she will be happy. Any time you can do something simple and make a person happy you are crazy not to do it. Try to remember what you did when you were dating. Back then it wasn't a sure thing so you put on the full court press. Remember the poems you wrote, the homemade Easter basket?? You still got it so do it. You won't be sorry.



Try to take better care of yourself. That food you like is going to kill you. Compromise. Eat sensible - and you know what that is - through the week, then break out a "little" on the weekend. I am not suggesting "The Batan Death March", just cut back a little. While we are at it you are doing better with your running, but I want at least five 4 mile runs per week. Work off that gut and you will feel better about yourself. If you do what I am telling you here - you will be at your goal in three to four months.



You've got some nice goals. Getting that HTML certificate will help with your web site tinkering. Just remember "football season" will start soon and the lure of the big screen will draw you to zero Sunday production like the Sirens lured sailors to the rocks. But what the hell, it is football, forget what I just said. A guy's got to live.



That is enough for now. I don't want to overwhelm you with too many demands. See what you can do with this advice.



Sincerely,

Yourself



PS Check with your psychologist friend Dr. Murphy to see if writing yourself a letter is a sign of anything serious. It wouldn't hurt to check.



Until the next time

John Strain

Alligator Hunting on the Tchefuncta River

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Click HERE to view video about alligators and other Louisiana Wildlife

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My friend Roy grew up on the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain in southern Louisiana. He learned the outdoors well and shares his valuable knowledge with anyone interested. One clear mild September Saturday he invited me and my son to accompany him and his son on an alligator spotting expedition. Always open to new experiences, I jumped at the chance. My wife was a little less enthusiastic. "Are you sure it's safe? You better watch John close . . . I don't want him falling in the river. . . can those alligators get in the boat?" Not knowing the answers to any of these questions I answered her, "Everything will be fine. . . there is no danger. . . Roy knows all about it." (I hoped).



Actually what we were going to do Saturday night was count alligators. Here is how it works. Land owners with alligators on their property are permitted by law to harvest so many each year. Once the count is complete (which of course is an educated guess) the state issues a certain number of tags. When an alligator is killed it is tagged. If you kill an alligator you better have a tag.



Many people sub contract the work out. They get the tags then sell them to an alligator trapper who in turn sells the alligator hides. Roy had an arrangement with an LSU professor who hunted alligators. We got to accompany the man and watch him work and he got the alligators.



About 5 miles from my house is a little town called Madisonville. We were to meet in a little seafood restaurant called Morton's. Morton's faces the Tchefuncta River near where the River empties into Lake Pontchartrain. I had a shrimp po boy. If you've never had a shrimp po boy you still have some living to do. It is a mound of fried shrimp placed on fresh French bread and dressed with lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise. The Tchefuncta is a beautiful river. Cypress trees and live oaks decorated with Spanish moss line its banks.



The four of us met up with our guide Jim the LSU professor. I was expecting someone resembling the "Crocodile Hunter", all rugged, dressed in some sort of alligator hunting uniform, but Jim looked like a regular guy. He was probably in his mid to late 50's. He was very attentive to the boys, encouraging them to ask questions. The professor was coming out in him and he was giving us the Alligator 101 as we ate our shrimp po boys.



Dusk was approaching so we paid our tab and headed a short distance to the other side of the river. Jim's boat was moored at the marina there. We boarded the boat after Jim checked his equipment. He made sure there was plenty of fuel, that his light worked, and that there was plenty of spoiled chicken in his cooler. Alligators love rotten chicken.



Now mostly dark, we were in the boat, navigating away from the marina. The technique Jim used was to wear a light on his head like a miner. We followed the shoreline slowly as Jim trained the spot at the water's edge. The light reflected an erie red glow from the gator's eyes. I was amazed that within 100 yards from the marina we spotted the night's first gator. They were everywhere it seemed, under boat houses, back in among a stand of cypress trees, all along the river bank.



Jim could estimate their size by gauging the distance between their eyes. Like a carpenter that does not need a tape measure or level, Jim could tell within a few inches how long a gator was by peering toward those red eyes. "That one there is a 6 footer," he would say or "that one probably goes about 3 feet." The largest alligator known was killed in the early 1900's on Avery Island (where Tobasco Sauce is made). It was 19 feet 2 inches. Alligators need deep, still water to grow big in. We were in an area where the biggest one we would see would be abut 9 or 10 feet.



A couple of times Jim called the alligators. He made a whimpering sound. The noise started out high pitched then low pitched quickly. It was affective for a few of the gators. They heard the call and swam slowly toward us. Once they saw the boat they quickly dove and disappeared from view. Jim explained that with the moon so bright that night the alligators could see better and would not come as close to the boat as on a darker night.



We headed for some rice fields which amounted to turning off of the main river. We floated slowly down a narrow waterway with tall swamp grass on either side of us. It made me feel like I was in Viet Nam based on what I have seen in movies. We had gone a ways without seeing an alligator. Jim said, "have you noticed we haven't seen a gator for a while?" - That is because there is a big one here." Gators are territorial. They occupy the area they need to to provide their food needs. The big one chases away the little ones.



That night we were baiting different locations. The idea was to get the alligators used to feeding at a certain place. Then when the hunting season opened, they would be easy to find. HOW TO CATCH AN ALLIGATOR: A rope is tied to a tree and hung over the river about one foot or so. On the rope is a hook with rotten chicken on it. The alligator comes out of the water and grabs the bait and dives to the bottom and sits. When the hunters come to check the lines they pull the gator up and shoot it in the head.



Alligators are scavengers and have a distinct awful smell. They are "burped" before being drug in the boat. The way you burp an alligator is to hang its head over the side and tilt. He will empty out if done with the correct technique.



Part of what I enjoyed was being outside at night in such a beautiful place. The dark silhouettes of the trees and the reflection of the nearly full moon on the glistening water was worthy of canvas. We spotted about 75 gators that night.



The link above to the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries has more information about alligators if you are interested. They are not endangered at all. Harvesting is a necessary thing. Last year 30,000 alligator tags were issued in Louisiana. The price of a skin was only about $16. This is testament to the fact alligators are plentiful.



That is my adventure. We did see alligators, no close calls, no up close and personal. But then again, that is probably preferred.



Here's to the beauty and diversity of nature.



Until the next time

John Strain

Practical Jokes

This little video cracks me up. You will probably need the Free Quicktime Player to view it. The setting of the 15 sec video is one guy changing a light switch and his buddy holding a flashlight and casually eating a banana. Watch the expression change on the face of the guy holding the flashlight when his buddy starts screaming as though being electrocuted. Really funny stuff. Note: The cow picture was used because it is funny looking - it has nothing to do with the video.



Seeing this practical joke got me thinking about some of the practical jokes I have had a part in. I usually go for the practical jokes that do not require elaborate planning. I normally see a small window of opportunity and take it.



Like this one time. When I was a graduate student in New Orleans in the early 80's. I worked for a doctor taking care of his house and yard. Charlie would leave town quite a bit and ask me to house sit. This was great for me. I got to use the pool and all of the conveniences of a house and leave dorm life behind for a while. Barbara and I were dating at the time. This one particular afternoon I had finished my work and was floating around in the pool. I heard Barbara drive up so I thought it would be funny if she were to discover me doing the dead man float. In my mind I would go into the dead man float for a while then rise up out of the water and we would both have a good laugh.



What happened though was she came up the walk and saw me floating face down. Her heart went to her throat and I rose out of the water. I laughed. She did not. She said in a very stern voice, "I almost dove in." That was about all she said for a while. She was mad. I spent the next hour or so trying to convince her how it was really funny and not something she should be mad about. My usual solid logic failed me. One would think I would have learned a lesson. BARBARA DOES NOT LIKE BEING SCARED DON'T DO IT AGAIN. But I did not learn that lesson. . . at least then.



Fast forward a couple of years. Now we are married and living in Illinois. One fall Saturday afternoon I am watching college football and Barbara is taking a shower. I suddenly remembered a prank we used to do in college when some guy was showering. We found it great fun to fill a container with ice water from the water cooler then dump it over the shower stall on the poor unsuspecting soul. The sudden shift in water temperature from hot to cold almost always caused the "mark" to scream, curse, and on one occasion bolt from the shower stall in pursuit of the "ice man" as we referred to the instigator.



I thought it would be funny to do this to Barbara. Out to the kitchen I went and filled our largest tumbler with ice water. I crept into the bathroom then dumped the frigid liquid on her. Just like it was in college she screamed, but her scream was different. It had more of a guttural quality to it. The words that followed were not signs she was taking this joke as it was intended. That was about all she said for awhile. Once again my best logic could not convince her she should not be angry. I even reminded her of the time when we were dating that I poured a large Wendy's ice tea down her shirt and how at the time she thought it was so funny. "That was when we were dating she said." I learned that lesson: BARBARA DOES NOT LIKE ICE WATER DUMPED ON HER WHEN SHE SHOWERS. To this day I have not done that again.



One night in the same apartment I was lying in bed about 1:30 AM. Barbara now 6 months pregnant got up to go pee. Pregnant women pee many times a day. She did not know I was awake so I got the divine inspiration to get out of bed and stand in the closet. I thought it would be funny to scare her when she returned from the bathroom and passed by my lair. It would scare the bejesus out of her. I stood there listening to the sound of my own breathing and welling up from a deep place in my conscience was the faintest whisper - so quiet I did not know what it said until it was too late. The whisper said, "Don't do it."



I heard the toilet flush, the sink run, then footsteps coming down the hall. When she was right in front of me I came out of the closet and made a low zombie like sound. It scared the crap out of her. She side stepped away from me and again with the guttural noise. I started laughing and she started hitting me. Again she did not say much. I did not attempt the logic this time. Instead I tried apologizing - no dice. It was then that I learned the lesson about Barbara not liking to be scared.



Seeking support and understanding as women do, Barbara was relating my atrocities to the neighbor lady, Mrs. Wilcox who was in her 80's. Barbara told her about me scaring her. She told her about the ice water. She even went back to the dead man float story in the doctors pool. She expected Mrs. Wilcox to be a sympathetic listener. Maybe she would say, "Oh you poor dear, I'm so sorry, But you know how men are." When Barbara finished the story, Mrs. Wilcox told her a story about her late husband.



Mrs. Wilcox said that her husband had been diagnosed with some terminal illness. He thought it would be funny if he were to write a suicide not something to the effect - "Dear Emma, I can't take it anymore and have decided to kill myself." He left the note on the coffee table and hid behind the couch to see her reaction when she returned from shopping. Mrs. Wilcox walked in the apartment, saw the note, read it, then passed out and hit the floor. Her husband ran over and revived her. He immediately began apologizing. (I could have told him that would not work.) She couldn't get too mad though, what was she going to say - I wish you really had killed yourself? This story bailed me out to some extent.



I learned it was much safer to play jokes on my son or dog than on my wife. I think she appreciates it too. I still throw her pillow off the bed just as her head is about to rest on it. I have done this so often that she has to dive in bed hoping to pin the pillow before I can fling it. She starts to get mad, but realizes it's not ice water and laughs with me.



I hope this gave you a chuckle. Leave me a comment on some of your practical jokes.



Until the next time

John Strain

Sitting Atop A House of Cards

I took this picture Sunday in my backyard. It shows baby live oak trees springing from the roots of their mother. Quite a contrast in tree maturity. Instead of writing about the circle of life as popularized by Elton John and The Lion King I want to talk about how dependent we are upon one another. I am talking about every citizen of the earth and yes they and we are all dependent upon each other. But that is a good thing.



Good dependence and bad dependence is the difference between understanding and appreciating your status in the world vs. needing a therapist. We all know what bad dependence is. Perhaps you have been that way. If you have, you know the fear of having all of your eggs in one basket. This sort of thing breeds jealousy, fear, paranoia, and often causes the object of the dependence to run screaming into hell for a vacation from your demands. Many pages have been penned describing this nasty relationship affliction. I am going to focus on the good dependence. That is we are interdependent so make the most of it.



I will demonstrate what I mean. This morning I woke up from sleep like I have for 46 years. I did nothing to be born. Being alive is something God did for me. I am here like you and we have some pretty sophisticated circuitry and design innovations. We have five senses with which to experience life. The senses enable us to know things like hot, cold, sharp, soft, loud, grating, bright, wet, tart, sweet, ecstasy, fear, pungent, delicious, and you get the idea. On top of the senses we can think and reason. How do we do it? I don’t know - I just can and you just can. That comes from God. What a gift!



Next item: I woke up in a modern home. A home similar to what most Americans have. I enjoy air conditioning in the summer, heat in the winter, a roof when it is raining, lights and electricity, gas, water and plumbing. If anything in the house breaks, I can usually fix it or I can call up one of “my boys” and they will help me fix it. OK that does not sound like dependence does it? Well it is - and here is why. If something breaks, I need parts and tools and knowledge. I cannot make the parts or the tools. Somebody makes them and makes them available to me. I need the tool makers and the spare parts makers.



Everything we do or consume is possible because scores of people do their jobs every day. Thank you folks for picking up the trash, mowing the right-of-ways, teaching our kids, washing our cars, preparing our taxes, and everything else. When people stop doing their jobs we have things like transit strikes, postal strikes, gas shortages, and you get the idea.



WE are ALL vital and important. WHATEVER you do - someone depends on it. We depend on so many things. The next time someone cuts you off in traffic, consider this before you let your road rage get the best of you and him, the guy who cut you off may be in a hurry to get to work so he can keep your lights shining or toilets flushing.



Can money make us independent? Answer: No. It can give you a flase sense of security though. You may be rich and think your money will get you anything you want. It probably will. You may know the right people and use those relationships to get around the rules and you probably won’t get caught. You can use more than your share. You can ignore others whom you could easily help - it is not a crime to ignore suffering. But if you understand dependence or your interdependence on others you might feel a responsibility to conserve resources, to live up to your responsibilities, and help those you can.



In the movie Gangs of New York there was a scene in which the down trodden workers rose up and stormed the rich neighborhoods. They went into the homes. They burned, killed, and destroyed what they perceived as the enemy - the rich people. However, wealth or the rich is not the enemy. The problem is the attitudes of SOME with wealth and power. Wealth and influence carries responsibility. The irresponsible ones were taken to task in the movie



We all sit atop a “house of cards,” because we depend on each other. A healthy response to this realization is twofold: On the one hand you are grateful and humbled, you respond by doing your job well because people are depending on you. On the other hand you gain appreciation for others because you depend on them. You do not wish them ill because it could affect you.



This is not that tough folks. I am not “Paul Anna” (Polly’s brother). Just think about it.



Until the next time

John Strain