Two Stories: Marital Bliss? and Huh?

These hurricane stories are getting better and better:

Newlyweds split as wife jailed, husband hospitalized
New Orleans couple married during evacuation to DeSoto shelter.

October 21, 2005
by Vickie Welborn

MANSFIELD -- A New Orleans couple who were married last month at a DeSoto Parish shelter for hurricane evacuees are separated -- he's in the hospital with a stab wound and she's in jail charged with attempted second-degree murder.

A.J. Cooper said he doesn't know what prompted his new bride, Angel Parker, to stab him in the chest. Their marriage of just over a month had been trouble-free until Wednesday morning, he said.

"We were at home, me and my wife. We had drunk a few beers and then all of the sudden she got mad about something and she grabbed a knife and juked me in the chest. That's about all I remember," Cooper said on Thursday afternoon from his bed at LSU Hospital in Shreveport.

He is being treated for a punctured lung.

Read the rest of the article here

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Cindy Sheehan plans to chain herself to the White House fence:

Sheehan article

By Sher Zieve – Cindy Sheehan announced Monday that she plans to deliver another anti-war speech and then chain herself to the White House fence. Sheehan said: "I'm going to tie myself to the fence and refuse to leave until they agree to bring our troops home."
Sheehan added that she plans to be arrested and stated: "When I get out, I'll go back and do the same thing."

I say, if she chains herself to the fence, we just leave her there. Problem solved. My guess is that when she was a little kid and threatened to hold her breath, her parents panicked and gave her what she wanted. Contrast Cindy's whining protesting with a more dignified and justified Rosa Parks below. Another guess of mine is that the son she mourns is spinning in his grave because of her behavior that dishonors his service.

It is a strange world we live in.

Until the next time
John Strain

Rosa Parks

A tired, 42 year old woman in 1955 refuses to surrender her seat on a bus to a white man in Montgomery, Alabama, and is arrested and tried. This action led to a 381-day Montgomery bus boycott, and an eventual Supreme Court ruling in November 1956 that segregation on transportation is unconstitutional.

What made you decide on December 1, 1955, not to get up from your seat?

That particular day that I decided was not the first time I had trouble with that particular driver. He evicted me before, because I would not go around to the back door after I was already onto the bus. The evening that I boarded the bus, and noticed that he was the same driver, I decided to get on anyway. I did not sit at the very front of the bus; I took a seat with a man who was next to the window -- the first seat that was allowed for "colored" people to sit in. We were not disturbed until we reached the third stop after I boarded the bus. At this point a few white people boarded the bus, and one white man was left standing. When the driver noticed him standing, he spoke to us (the man and two women across the aisle) and told us to let the man have the seat. The other three all stood up. But the driver saw me still sitting there. He said would I stand up, and I said, "No, I will not." Then he said, "I'll have you arrested." And I told him he could do that. So he didn't move the bus any further. Several black people left the bus.

Two policemen got on the bus in a couple of minutes. The driver told the police that I would not stand up. The policeman walked down and asked me why I didn't stand up, and I said I didn't think I should stand up. "Why do you push us around?" I asked him. And he said, "I don't know. But the law is the law and you are under arrest." As soon as he said that I stood up, the three of us left the bus together.

One of them picked up my purse, the other picked up my shopping bag. And we left the bus together. It was the first time I'd had that particular thing happen. I was determined that I let it be known that I did not want to be treated in this manner. The policemen had their squad car waiting, they gave me my purse and bag, and they opened the back door of the police car for me to enter.

Read the entire interview here.

Rest in peace Rosa Parks.

Civil Rights Video

Until the next time
John Strain

Buddies

Barb and I stopped in to see John in Baton Rouge on our way back from Texas. We had a nice visit, watched a little football, and then headed home.

An hour or so later, I got a phone call. It was John telling me he had shaved his head. I never know what words are going to come out of my cell phone. Money changed hands to get John to do it. After he shaved his head, Roy decided he would follow suit.

So in honor of Ben going to the Navy Tuesday AM two of his buddies have military haircuts. It's a guy thing.

Until the next time
John Strain

31 miles the hard way

The Rocky Raccoon 50K was quite an experience. I covered the double loop 15.5 mile course in 5 hours and 25 seconds. I fell 6 times and nearly fell about 4 times. I stubbed my toes, twisted my ankles, bruised the ball of my right foot, and got a nice blister on my left foot. I had plenty of energy and only walked a couple of times for about one minute. I ran almost the whole thing.

A trail run is a lot different from a road marathon. There were ruts, drop offs, zillions of roots, rocks, hills, and constant turns. There were very few straight stretches. I was running through the woods like a chase scene in the fugative. I do not usually use my poor eyesight as an excuse, but this event requires good vision. I could not negotiate the subtle changes in elevation, or see the roots well enough to run smoothly. I was jarring my back landing straight legged and stubbing my toe on roots sometimes sending me sprawling headlong. The first time I fell was about the 10 mile mark. I had just started up a hill and my left foot hit a root. I sailed off to the left plowing a furrough in the pine needles. The runner behind me just passed me by as I was making it to a standing position. My instinct was to keep running. The runner's disinterest was if to say, "welcome to trail running kid."

The trail was narrow and most of the time it was single file. I was getting discouraged. I was telling myself that I made a mistake. I was good at marathons, but this kind of event was out of my league because I couldn't see well enough. I was planning on stopping after the first loop. I told myself I would turn in my number to a race official then finish the distance on the road.

Then I thought about Ellen. She is in a race for her very life and has not quit. I am sure there are all sorts of things that are not fair in her race. Then I thought about Ben. What kind of example would I be for him when he is going through hell at BUD/S? I thought about how I would write about it on the blog and I couldn't think of how to do it without feeling like a quitter.

So I started talking to myself again. I told myself it is a beautiful day and all I have to do is slow down. Who cares what my time is as long as I finish the race? There were a lot of people behind me and I would still place well. About that time, a runner in front of me fell down hard. Just as he hit the ground I heard him say mother f!%$#r. It cracked me up the way he said it especially since I could identify with the sentiment. I asked him if he was OK and he said, "Yeah, I'll walk it off. . .those f*%#ing roots." He said the roots seem to get bigger as the day goes on and even bigger in the dark.

That guy falling made up my mind. With only 2 miles left in the first lap, I knew I wasn't the only one skidding across the forest floor. I still laugh when I see him flying through the air and voicing his discontent. I like to hear a good cursing out by a true artist. See Big Dick's Place for examples.

I was amazed how I was holding up. I was jumping over things, pushing off in different directions with my feet, tripping, stumbling, and sometimes hitting the deck, but the miles ticked by. I came upon a guy and ran with him for about 10 miles. His name was Andy and he had been at the Superdome in New Orleans right after Hurricane Katrina doing his duty as a National Guardsman. I told Andy about my vision problem and he tried to help me with warnings, but it is almost impossible, because there are so many places to twist anlkes and fall.

The last mile was a slow grade much of the way on a broken up asphault path. I fell twice on that darn thing. I was still clipping along at a decent pace and eventually I stumbled across the finish line. Yes Ellen, Barb videoed the event, but she needs a lot of work on her cinamatography skills.

I walked some, then sat down. I tightened up like Dick's hat band and I am walking like a guy who ran 31 miles the hard way. I am so glad I did not quit, but there for a minute, I was close. That is what I like about running. It will take you to your limit and you can see if you pass the test or not. If I had failed the test, I would be motivated to redeem myself, but I don't have to do that this time. I just have to enjoy the sweet feeling of achievement.

I think I will liimp over to my ice chest and crack open a brew.

Until the next time
John Strain

The eve of becoming an ultra runner

I am sitting here posting over a dialup connection in a Motel 6 just south of Huntsville, Texas on I-45. Barbara is already asleep and I need to head that way myself. I have some work to do in the morning at 0700. After I run a couple of loops around the lake in the above picture, I will have logged 50K or 31 miles. I can then add the title "ultra runner" to my resume. I know, that and $500 will buy a cup of coffee at Starbucks.

This run is different because it is a trail run. I will have to contend with holes, rocks, roots, and ruts. It is truly a run through the pine woods of east Texas. I am looking forward to it. The scenery here is beautiful. As we drove from Covington to Texas, we got to see the damage Hurricane Rita caused. More snapped trees and new electrical poles mark where she made her mischief.

We had to travel the Hardy Toll Road north of Houston. Before we knew what was going on, we ran the first toll booth. We drove around it as if we had the electronic tag. Barb and I figured the cops would pull us over, but no lights or sirens. Then at the next toll booth, she pulled into the "exact change only" lane. We didn't have exact change. She tried backing out, but another car came up behind us. The operator a few lanes over, raised the gate and we proceeded. It finally occurred to me that our photo was probably snapped and next summer I would get a nice bill to pay the fine and penalty in the mail. So I got on the net and found the website that said violators get three chances before a bill is sent for the toll and a $10 fine. I guess we are in the clear. I may email them and offer to pay the toll to avert any action on their part.

OK bedtime. I will let you all know how it went.

Until the next time
John Strain