This is the big one

New Orleans has been called "the city that care forgot." This is a reference to the easy going, devil may care spirit that prevails there. It is not like that now. With a forecast category four or possibly five hurricane bearing down on New Orleans, care is not forgotten.

There are some unmistakable signs that this hurricane is a real threat. The local television stations are broadcasting hurricane information non-stop. Even more concerning, the weathermen have shed their jackets and tension and worry is heard in their voices. They think this is the big one - the proverbial "worst case scenario."

After Betsy in 1965, a levee protection system was built to encircle the city. It was said to be capable of protecting the city from the surge of a category three hurricane. The problem is however, the ground has settled and experts wonder if it would ward off the effects of a category two storm.

The city of New Orleans is below sea level. Its topography is like a bowl. Pumps have been constructed to move water out of the city, but they cannot keep up with a storm surge and terrential rains. Many citizens in New Orleans do not have the means to evacuate. Conditions are ripe for a major disaster both in property damage and loss of life.

I live on the Northshore of Lake Pontchartrain. Forecasters say the hurricane will not lose much strength until it passes to the Northshore because there is nothing to slow it down. The many trees and higher ground of the Northshore will begin to weaken the storm.

A category four storm will devastate everything in its path. Mobile homes will be totally destroyed, homes will sustain serious wall and roof damage, most trees and all road signs will be blown away. This refers to the winds near the eye. The damage is less the farther away from the eye one goes.

I am worried about this one. My responsibilities will most likely have me at the hospital. Barbara can come with me, but then I don't know what to do with Bear. I can't leave him home alone. I need a plan that will see us all safe. John is back in Baton Rouge and, at the moment, out of harms way.

By tomorrow evening, the tropical force winds will be constant and the weather will continue to degrade. Monday from noon to 5:00 PM is when they think Katrina will pass through our area.

I have to go outside now and batten down the hatches.

Until the next time
John Strain

Uh Oh! Yikes! & Oh S%*T!

As it stands now, and I hope this time they are wrong, hurricane Katrina should pass directly over my house. This is forecast to be a bad one - catagory four.

The last major hurricane to hit New Orleans was Betsy in 1965. It was a category three and caused major damage.

Monday evening may change my life.

Stay tuned.

Until the next time
John Strain

Temptation

When I came home from work, the package was waiting for me on my front porch. It was the USB flash drive I had ordered from Amazon. A thumb drive is only the size of a disposable lighter so the package seemed a little heavy.

Out with my trusty Swiss Army Knife and the package was soon open. No peanuts flying around for cushioning, Amazon uses plastic bags full of air to absorb the shock of shipping. There was a box inside the box and when I opened it, I found 5 thumb drives instead of the one I ordered.

The mistake must have taken place in the warehouse. The worker must not have noticed the "quantity 5" on the box. He must not have known how small a thumb drive is either or he would have caught his own mistake.

I looked at the packing slip and I was only charged for one thumb drive. The paper showed only one drive shipped.

Now the temptation. I could have made off with $200 worth of thumb drives. They would have made great Christmas presents. I could have sold them and made extra money. I didn't wrestle at all with the decision though. They were not mine and it would be stealing to keep them.

I emailed Amazon about the mistake and they responded by telling me they were sending me a postage paid label so I could return the merchandise. I put it in the mail today. I am still hoping, Amazon will give me something for being honest, but they don't have to.

The secret to avoiding such temptation is to hold a principle and live by it instead of a situational ethics approach. I believe I should get what I order - no less and no more. Besides, if I had kept it, God would have broken our car or home air conditioner to teach me a lesson.

Have a great Friday folks and an even better weekend.

Until the next time
John Strain

An August Picnic and a Predawn Run

I stepped out of the hotel at 5:00 am to begin my 20-mile run down highway 30 out of Blair, NE. Heading out of town to the south, the road eventually wound to the west. High in the sky, a full moon illuminated the rolling hills of eastern Nebraska. The silver fog added to the beauty and I was treated to a picturesque journey. The locusts were still at it and their serenade was only drowned out by the occasional freight train that passed on my right. The freight cars passing by lazily in one direction and the 18-wheelers whizzed by intermittently on the highway. It was Sunday morning though and the traffic was light. Running along the road, I began to recall the events of the previous day, our family reunion.

I had not been to Blair, Nebraska since 1985. My son was only 4 months old at the time. In the 60's, I was there nearly every summer for the Stricklett family reunion. The Stricklett family is my mom's mom's family.

Those gatherings were what I suppose most family reunions were like. People come from the ends of the earth once a year or so and "catch up" with each other. Stories are told and there is lots of hugs and laughter.

As the years pass and lives become "more complicated" reunions are put off and come less frequently. Every family goes through this. But this year, efforts were made to have another one, thanks to Bruce, Joy, and others. I flew from Louisiana to Kansas City and met my mother, her husband Rocky, and my brother George. Together we drove the remaining 3 hours or so to Nebraska.

Friday night, we checked into our hotel and immediately met up with some family members. A group of 10 of us dined on Pizza Hut and old stories. I asked my second cousin Mary if she remembered the time I pulled the fire alarm at the White House. She of course did remember and we all had some laughs and shared our memories about that trauma circa 1964.

Saturday was the big day. The family had been summoned to the city park. It was a beautiful day for a reunion and when we made it to the large shelter, my Aunt Phyllis was already there with a percolating coffee pat. Like the movie "Field of Dreams", "If you hold it they will come." The family began to trickle in and before we knew it there was a bunch of us. Conversations went like this:

Hi, now who are you?

or

I'm John Strain, Esther's youngest.
The response might be, "I know who you are." or "Who is Esther?"

I was struck with the fact of generations. I used to be the youngest, but now I was closer to the top than the bottom. Looking at the individual families, it was a marvel to see the life that sprung from those of us who used to be the kids.

It was a happy time and in the laughter, handshakes, and embraces, I felt a sense of completeness. I was with my family.

We took lots of pictures, ate lots of chicken and potato salad, and said goodbye at least 10 times to each person. Someone would say goodbye and eventually head away, but get stopped talking to someone. Before you knew it, they would make a circle and be back in the fray. Goodbyes were exchanged again, but they wouldn't leave. The fact is, many of us did not want it to end. The young folks, that's another story. Some of them could not get out of there soon enough. I was them once.

After the picnic and we dispersed, we reassembled at Grandma's old house. It is the house where my mother and grandmother came into this world. One of great grandma Stricklett's granddaughters lives there now with her husband, kids and grandchildren. They have done amazing things to the inside and outside of the house. Check out page 3 of the Stricklett reunion photos to see the house. Click the photos link at the top of this page to get there.

A memory explosion is what was going on inside my head. I was bombarded with sights, sounds, and smells I had not experienced in 20 years. I missed whole lives in that time.

I kept running as the sky went from black to the colors of dawn. The pinks, purples, and oranges clung to the horizon in back of me and chased away the darkness as it fled to the west. Highway 30 is a hilly road the temperature drops in the valleys and the vistas are great from the hilltops. I was feeling good, escaping the heat and humidity of Louisiana. It occurred to me my grandfather told me how he would run from town to town when he was a lad. I only half believed him at the time. My grandfather was a "leg-puller". He said he would start a pace and go for 15 miles to town and not even be winded. I believe it now. Maybe my distance running comes from him.

I finished the run back to the hotel. After a quick shower we went back to Joy and Dan's house for some donuts, coffee, and a few more stories. By 10:00 AM, Mom, Rocky, George, and I were back on the road to Kansas City where I would board a plane for Louisiana. It was a long travel day and I finally made it home at 11:00 PM.

We had our reunion and a need I didn't even know I had was fulfilled.

Until the next time
John Strain

Honor

My flight from Atlanta to Kansas City was almost over. The flight attendant was giving her landing instructions and going through her routine. At the end of her talk, she said something like this:

We have some special gusts on the plane today. You may have noticed them in their camouflage uniforms. We want to extend our thanks for your service. These men and women have not been home in a long time so I would ask everyone to remain seated when we get to the gate to allow our servicemen to collect their belongings and deplane.

When she finished talking the capacity cabin erupted in spontaneous and extended applause. It gave me a lump in my throat.

When we landed and began to taxi to the gate, I wondered if my fellow passengers would heed the flight attendant’s request. The plane came to a stop and the tone signaled it was OK to leave the plane. Not one soul stirred except the servicemen. Again, the applause was offered as an expression of heartfelt gratitude. Some folks offered their hand and mouthed the words "thank you" as the servicemen walked by. I was proud of my fellow passengers. On the way out, several people thanked the crew for recognizing the soldiers in that way.

It was just a routine flight on a Friday, but the thoughtfulness of one person took a plane full of people to emotional heights no airship could ever reach. If I were a soldier, I think this is the kind of gesture that would touch me. It was sincere and spontaneous.

That flight attendant did a wonderful thing. Her gesture is a challenge to us all to thank our servicemen in ways that are meaningful and sincere. They are honorable and they deserve our honor.

Until the next time
John Strain