So I personally am not a gun owner. It's not something I am comfortable doing. However, that does not mean that I don't support the 2nd amendment. Should we take a closer look at the system we use for background checks? Yes, probably.
Case in point-Omar Mateen was investigated by the FBI in both 2013 and 2014. While they were unable to turn up anything on him, my opinion is that his name should have been "red flagged" in the so-called database and he should not have been permitted to buy the fire arms he did just days before the Orlando massacre. (After all, he HAD raised suspicion of the FBI). Since I am not naïve, my gut tells me that even if he had been refused the sale of these fire arms, he would have probably (eventually) either 1) obtained weapons illegally, and/or 2) made his own explosive devices which could and probably would have killed even more people.
But that does not mean government officials have the right to ignore the 2nd amendment and say no one has the right to bear arms. As a matter of fact, I'll make the argument that one problem with the Orlando shooting is that 103 people (50 killed and 53 injured) did not have a gun. If you truly believe terrorists, being foreign or domestic are going to just hand over their weapons, you are sadly mistaken.
U.S. citizens need to wake up. It sickens me that so many people our ignorant to the ways of our political leaders who are stripping us of our rights and creating a culture and society of sheep (yes, that is an Orwellian reference). Their constant reaction to any situation is more control because it's easier to scream that and point the finger than address the deeper issues. Focus needs to be on the cause of these violent actions. Gun law regulations are already in place but we have leaders choosing to ignore them in order to promote their own agenda. Guns are merely the tool of a much bigger issue.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Sunday, September 14, 2014
To the Man That Called Me "Fat Girl"
First let me start by saying that I call you a "man" not because of your actions, words or how you behaved last night. I call you a "man" because you aren't some twenty-something, drunken, college coed. No, as a matter of fact you appear to be about my age, and thus society would label you as I have done.
Obviously, I am not over last night. In my world, as a classroom teacher, we call people like you a bully. As far as I'm concerned, there is no place for this type of treatment towards another human being, EVER. I am sorry the place you went for the evening was not broadcasting what you wanted to hear. Of course management did offer to accommodate you, but that was not enough. For whatever reason, you felt the need to hurl verbal insults my way. And though this will probably never reach your eyes, I want you to know your words demoralized me.
After you left, I must have sat there and cried for at least an hour. My friends, bless their hearts, didn't know how to react to my public display of emotions. I WANTED to leave at that point. I wanted to go back to my house, with my dogs, and my big screen TV. Back to where I knew I was "safe" and loved by my furry four-legged friends. Back to where I have silently withdrawn over the years because of people like you. I was terrified to order/eat; I was terrified to finish my drink. Except for the tears, I was literally frozen in time because to do what I wanted to do - eat a fun meal and have a couple of drinks with friends - meant I was living a self-fulfilling prophecy as the overweight "fat girl."
But for some reason, something kept me glued to that chair. And during that time, I talked and prayed to God. I asked Him to stay with me and not let go of me. I asked Him to keep me strong. I asked Him why I was having to endure this. I asked Him to keep reminding me that I'm His child, and He loves me no matter what. And I kept going to a dark place, where I asked Him to make sure you got what was coming to you. At this point, I would stop my prayer and start over again, because I KNOW this is not what I'm supposed to be praying for.
You see "mean man," for me, this really isn't about my weight. It's about the lack of self-confidence and self-esteem I have in myself. It's about portraying myself as one thing on the outside, (especially having worked with the public for thirty years), but feeling completely unworthy of anyone's love or friendship on the inside. My weight is my excuse for not having the relationships I want in my life. It's the manifestation of verbal, mental and emotional abuse as a young child, and even more recently, in my career. Ironically, before venturing out last night, three different people had said good things to me about the changes they see not just on the outside, but on the inside as well. I accepted those compliments as graciously as I felt I could, because I know I'm really just a hair-line fracture away from crumbling into a million pieces.
That's why, this time, my weight loss journey is so different. With each pound I lose, I'm realizing I have to let go of some other negative thought I have of myself or some other negative behavior that does not make me a better person. Your words Sir, have the power to make that "hair-line fracture" an irreparable chasm that I am fighting tooth and nail right now. I regret that last night I still lack the faith in myself to stand up to you, but in all seriousness, I doubt it would have mattered.
I know God put you smack dab in the middle of my path for a reason. I've asked Him over and over in the last fifteen hours, what that reason is, and I am reminded I'm on His time schedule, not my own. In the mean time, I feel part of His plan is to force me to work through these personal issues, and not be afraid to share these thoughts and feelings so that maybe, just maybe, I can help someone else who feels like I do. And with that being said, I think I finally realize what I should be praying:
Dear God,
Thank you for not letting go of me. Thank you Lord for picking me up last night and carrying me, setting me down gently this morning, but not letting go of my hand. Thank you Heavenly Father for letting me see the light of another day and fulfilling Your promise to always be with me. I ask you Father that you might also be with the man with whom I crossed paths but only for a second last night. I ask that he too might know Your love, Your grace, and Your forgiveness. I pray God, that I was merely his whipping post, and therefore he will not do the same to someone that might not know You as I do, and be able to move forward as I will with You by my side.
In your son's name I pray,
Amen.
Obviously, I am not over last night. In my world, as a classroom teacher, we call people like you a bully. As far as I'm concerned, there is no place for this type of treatment towards another human being, EVER. I am sorry the place you went for the evening was not broadcasting what you wanted to hear. Of course management did offer to accommodate you, but that was not enough. For whatever reason, you felt the need to hurl verbal insults my way. And though this will probably never reach your eyes, I want you to know your words demoralized me.
After you left, I must have sat there and cried for at least an hour. My friends, bless their hearts, didn't know how to react to my public display of emotions. I WANTED to leave at that point. I wanted to go back to my house, with my dogs, and my big screen TV. Back to where I knew I was "safe" and loved by my furry four-legged friends. Back to where I have silently withdrawn over the years because of people like you. I was terrified to order/eat; I was terrified to finish my drink. Except for the tears, I was literally frozen in time because to do what I wanted to do - eat a fun meal and have a couple of drinks with friends - meant I was living a self-fulfilling prophecy as the overweight "fat girl."
But for some reason, something kept me glued to that chair. And during that time, I talked and prayed to God. I asked Him to stay with me and not let go of me. I asked Him to keep me strong. I asked Him why I was having to endure this. I asked Him to keep reminding me that I'm His child, and He loves me no matter what. And I kept going to a dark place, where I asked Him to make sure you got what was coming to you. At this point, I would stop my prayer and start over again, because I KNOW this is not what I'm supposed to be praying for.
You see "mean man," for me, this really isn't about my weight. It's about the lack of self-confidence and self-esteem I have in myself. It's about portraying myself as one thing on the outside, (especially having worked with the public for thirty years), but feeling completely unworthy of anyone's love or friendship on the inside. My weight is my excuse for not having the relationships I want in my life. It's the manifestation of verbal, mental and emotional abuse as a young child, and even more recently, in my career. Ironically, before venturing out last night, three different people had said good things to me about the changes they see not just on the outside, but on the inside as well. I accepted those compliments as graciously as I felt I could, because I know I'm really just a hair-line fracture away from crumbling into a million pieces.
That's why, this time, my weight loss journey is so different. With each pound I lose, I'm realizing I have to let go of some other negative thought I have of myself or some other negative behavior that does not make me a better person. Your words Sir, have the power to make that "hair-line fracture" an irreparable chasm that I am fighting tooth and nail right now. I regret that last night I still lack the faith in myself to stand up to you, but in all seriousness, I doubt it would have mattered.
I know God put you smack dab in the middle of my path for a reason. I've asked Him over and over in the last fifteen hours, what that reason is, and I am reminded I'm on His time schedule, not my own. In the mean time, I feel part of His plan is to force me to work through these personal issues, and not be afraid to share these thoughts and feelings so that maybe, just maybe, I can help someone else who feels like I do. And with that being said, I think I finally realize what I should be praying:
Dear God,
Thank you for not letting go of me. Thank you Lord for picking me up last night and carrying me, setting me down gently this morning, but not letting go of my hand. Thank you Heavenly Father for letting me see the light of another day and fulfilling Your promise to always be with me. I ask you Father that you might also be with the man with whom I crossed paths but only for a second last night. I ask that he too might know Your love, Your grace, and Your forgiveness. I pray God, that I was merely his whipping post, and therefore he will not do the same to someone that might not know You as I do, and be able to move forward as I will with You by my side.
In your son's name I pray,
Amen.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Refusing to Tolerate Intolerance
Tolerance: Defined by Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary 10th Edition as "a sympathy or indulgence for beliefs or practices differing from or conflicting with one's own." That's worthy of another read: "A sympathy or indulgence for beliefs or practices differing from or conflicting with one's own."
The impetus for my blog this evening is the hullabaloo surrounding Duck Dynasty pop culture icon Phil Robertson. Let me go on record here as saying I've watched exactly half of one episode of this show when my brother forced the family to do so during the holidays last year. Please be "tolerant" of my opinion, but I found it to be one of the dumbest shows I've ever seen. Thus, due to my limited exposure to the show itself, I am by no means an expert on Robertson, his family, nor his "dynasty." And honestly, his recent comments in GQ would have probably gone unnoticed by me, if not for mass (tv, newspapers, etc...) and social (FB, Twitter, etc...) media. Sick of hearing about this story via the aforementioned markets, I finally decided to read the actual article itself in order to form a more educated opinion. If you too are guilty of having formed an opinion based on snippets of the interview, click on http://www.gq.com/entertainment/television/201401/duck-dynasty-phil-robertson to read the controversy causing composition in its entirety. After reading the article, I can see why Robertson ruffled a few feathers and could be considered a quack. (Look, you know I had to fit that pun in here somehow).
But I want to duck this issue now (okay, I'll stop), and address what I perceive to be the true heart of the matter. Like so many before him, as well as the plethora that will follow, Robertson made comments based on his personal "beliefs or practices" and the flood gates were opened. See apparently, he had no right to publicly voice his opinion. It's not to be "tolerated" - - - just ask A&E and the millions of others for whom his views "differ from their own [sic]." A&E took an intolerant approach to Robertson's remarks and has "suspended" him. (Please note the use of the word "suspended." Already circling the rumor mill is that the Dynasty Patriarch will be back on the show in mid-January. Great financial windfall all of this is for that network, huh?)
Now, in the mean time, while this side is not going to "tolerate" these types of comments, the other side evidently is supposed to "tolerate" Robertson being called a "redneck wingnut" by politicians, and a "bigot" by others. I ask you, why is the former acceptable and the latter is not? And this mindset is not limited to this current headline. Any time someone speaks against another's personal belief, fingers start pointing and words start flying. "You can't say this! You can't think that! My way is the only way!" Sound familiar? We see (and hear) it on political and social issues all the time. Every - single - time a person makes a comment or takes an action that is not cohesive with that of another individual or group, a line is drawn in the sand, and the chasm between the factions grows wider and wider causing us as a society and culture to grow farther and farther apart.
Think about it like this. Even in the closest of families and the strongest of friendships, we don't always agree with each other's values and opinions. When this happens, sometimes we stay quiet; sometimes we speak up. A kinda of "know when to hold 'em, know when to show 'em" mentality. What happens when one side always does all the talking, and the other side keeps their mouth shut for fear of offending the other one? Ultimately, the toxicity that evolves leads to the complete degradation of what was once a strong relationship.
Personally, I'm tired of feeling I will be condemned for expressing my opinions and/or beliefs. I was taught and raised to stand firm in what I believe. But I was also taught and raised to respect the differences, (opinions included), of others. I want people to show me that same tolerance. No way do I agree with everything I see others around me do, but I still love them as human beings. I want people to show me that same tolerance.We are ALL God's children. I want people to show me that same tolerance. It is not for me to judge or put someone on trial (I think of the most famous trial in the Bible and we know how that turned out) because their "beliefs and practices are different or conflict with my own [sic]." I want people to show me that same tolerance.
I want us to be tolerant of one and other.
The impetus for my blog this evening is the hullabaloo surrounding Duck Dynasty pop culture icon Phil Robertson. Let me go on record here as saying I've watched exactly half of one episode of this show when my brother forced the family to do so during the holidays last year. Please be "tolerant" of my opinion, but I found it to be one of the dumbest shows I've ever seen. Thus, due to my limited exposure to the show itself, I am by no means an expert on Robertson, his family, nor his "dynasty." And honestly, his recent comments in GQ would have probably gone unnoticed by me, if not for mass (tv, newspapers, etc...) and social (FB, Twitter, etc...) media. Sick of hearing about this story via the aforementioned markets, I finally decided to read the actual article itself in order to form a more educated opinion. If you too are guilty of having formed an opinion based on snippets of the interview, click on http://www.gq.com/entertainment/television/201401/duck-dynasty-phil-robertson to read the controversy causing composition in its entirety. After reading the article, I can see why Robertson ruffled a few feathers and could be considered a quack. (Look, you know I had to fit that pun in here somehow).
But I want to duck this issue now (okay, I'll stop), and address what I perceive to be the true heart of the matter. Like so many before him, as well as the plethora that will follow, Robertson made comments based on his personal "beliefs or practices" and the flood gates were opened. See apparently, he had no right to publicly voice his opinion. It's not to be "tolerated" - - - just ask A&E and the millions of others for whom his views "differ from their own [sic]." A&E took an intolerant approach to Robertson's remarks and has "suspended" him. (Please note the use of the word "suspended." Already circling the rumor mill is that the Dynasty Patriarch will be back on the show in mid-January. Great financial windfall all of this is for that network, huh?)
Now, in the mean time, while this side is not going to "tolerate" these types of comments, the other side evidently is supposed to "tolerate" Robertson being called a "redneck wingnut" by politicians, and a "bigot" by others. I ask you, why is the former acceptable and the latter is not? And this mindset is not limited to this current headline. Any time someone speaks against another's personal belief, fingers start pointing and words start flying. "You can't say this! You can't think that! My way is the only way!" Sound familiar? We see (and hear) it on political and social issues all the time. Every - single - time a person makes a comment or takes an action that is not cohesive with that of another individual or group, a line is drawn in the sand, and the chasm between the factions grows wider and wider causing us as a society and culture to grow farther and farther apart.
Think about it like this. Even in the closest of families and the strongest of friendships, we don't always agree with each other's values and opinions. When this happens, sometimes we stay quiet; sometimes we speak up. A kinda of "know when to hold 'em, know when to show 'em" mentality. What happens when one side always does all the talking, and the other side keeps their mouth shut for fear of offending the other one? Ultimately, the toxicity that evolves leads to the complete degradation of what was once a strong relationship.
Personally, I'm tired of feeling I will be condemned for expressing my opinions and/or beliefs. I was taught and raised to stand firm in what I believe. But I was also taught and raised to respect the differences, (opinions included), of others. I want people to show me that same tolerance. No way do I agree with everything I see others around me do, but I still love them as human beings. I want people to show me that same tolerance.We are ALL God's children. I want people to show me that same tolerance. It is not for me to judge or put someone on trial (I think of the most famous trial in the Bible and we know how that turned out) because their "beliefs and practices are different or conflict with my own [sic]." I want people to show me that same tolerance.
I want us to be tolerant of one and other.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Sticky Jesus
On Friday, December 14, 2012 at 9:38 AM, in the small town of Newtown, CT, a lone gunman stormed into to Sandy Hook Elementary School and took the lives of twenty innocent children and six heroic adults before turning the gun on himself. Since then, news media and social media continue to debate the many faces of violence in America: gun culture, mental health services, religion, politics, and the way we raise our children, just to name a few.
Regarding gun control, there are sensible measures that must be examined - restricting military weapons that have no real use in the civilian world, for instance, finding better ways to keep guns out of the hands of convicted felons and the mentally disturbed - these are things the vast majority of Americans would support, if only our elected representatives had the courage to lead.
As for mental health care, according to Human Rights Watch, the number of mentally ill inmates in U.S. prisons quadrupled from 2000 to 2006, and it continues to rise. With state-run treatment centers and hospitals being forced to shut their doors due to lack of funding, prisons like Rikers Island, the LA County Jail and Cook County Jail are now the last resort for the mentally ill. Unfortunately, in a society that places a stigma on mental illness and combined with our broken healthcare system, we are not provided many other options. This too must change.
Most are familiar with these discussions. And yet the one that gets me the most is one that seems to be more spiritual in nature. There is talk in Newtown that there will be no Christmas this year. Some are beginning to remove Christmas decorations and local restaurant owner Joe Tartaglia said, "It feels wrong to even think of playing Christmas music."
The healing process has begun, and it is imperative that we remember God gave us his only Son so that He might help us do the things we cannot do ourselves. If you have not seen or heard the story of "Sticky Jesus," I encourage to view the link below.
Regarding gun control, there are sensible measures that must be examined - restricting military weapons that have no real use in the civilian world, for instance, finding better ways to keep guns out of the hands of convicted felons and the mentally disturbed - these are things the vast majority of Americans would support, if only our elected representatives had the courage to lead.
As for mental health care, according to Human Rights Watch, the number of mentally ill inmates in U.S. prisons quadrupled from 2000 to 2006, and it continues to rise. With state-run treatment centers and hospitals being forced to shut their doors due to lack of funding, prisons like Rikers Island, the LA County Jail and Cook County Jail are now the last resort for the mentally ill. Unfortunately, in a society that places a stigma on mental illness and combined with our broken healthcare system, we are not provided many other options. This too must change.
Most are familiar with these discussions. And yet the one that gets me the most is one that seems to be more spiritual in nature. There is talk in Newtown that there will be no Christmas this year. Some are beginning to remove Christmas decorations and local restaurant owner Joe Tartaglia said, "It feels wrong to even think of playing Christmas music."
The healing process has begun, and it is imperative that we remember God gave us his only Son so that He might help us do the things we cannot do ourselves. If you have not seen or heard the story of "Sticky Jesus," I encourage to view the link below.
Remember Jesus wants "to get His hands dirty" for us. He is among us to help us heal so that we might in turn, help those around us. The road to recovery will be a long one, but to the community of Newtown, to those in places near and far that might be going through difficult times, "through Him all things are possible" (Philippians 4:13).
God Bless You Each and Everyone. Merry Christmas!!!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Thumper Was Right
"Lord, in the name of Jesus, bless Pres. Obama and his family. Lead him and guide him. Strengthen him to do his job and bring You glory. Help him to repair the mess that he has inherited from the Bush administration. Remove the hatred the Republicans generate. Amen." - Cynthia, after President Obama's 2011 State of the Union Address.
"I can't think of a single public school worth lying to get into...the whole education system is terribly broken. We need to throw the whole traditional [education] system out and start over from scratch." - Marcie from OKC, commenting about the ten day jail sentence a woman from Ohio received after being taken to court by the school district for sending her son to a school outside her district's school/zone.
There aren't many things for which I don't have an opinion. But especially in this day and time where "Social Networking" is all the craze, I try to watch what I say so as to not offend any of my family and friends. That being said, there are simply some things better left to my own musings.
Yes, I know the first amendment of U.S. Constitution avows my freedom to speak without censorship or limitations. Yet to think that "Freedom of Speech" is an absolute is somewhat of a misnomer. Many social institutions have erected "speech codes" on what can be said in order to protect the public. One such limitation is that of "Hate Speech."
Hate speech is that which is considered to be "obscene, defamatory, slanderous, or hateful, and holds a reasonable potential to be harmful" (Lederer & Delgado 1995). It is a form of verbal aggression that expresses hatred, contempt, ridicule or threats toward a specific group or class of people (Asante 1998). It includes but is not limited to verbalizations, written messages, symbols or symbolic acts that are meant to demean and degrade. Hate speech often stems from thoughts and beliefs such as hatred, intolerance, prejudice, bigotry, or stereotyping (Allport 1954). Based on these definitions alone, it is plain to see many of us violate our most basic constitutional right on a daily basis. And to render such comments as those used to start this piece as acceptable, is nothing short of blasphemy and places our country in a precarious situation.
Ironically enough, many of the people behind these diatribes are often the same ones that insist we send our students on their merry way for "winter break" and greet strangers on the street with a "Happy Holidays." In Fahrenheit 451, science fiction author Ray Bradbury predicted this future for our society because we didn't want to upset "...the cat lovers,...the dog lovers,...the Baptists,...the Texans," etc.... As a result, the toes many try to tip toe around are the same toes that kick the rest of us in the gut on a daily basis.
"Remove the hatred the Republicans generate?" Really? What's the latent message there? Not a "single public school worth lying to get into?" Seriously? I guess I bust my ass every single day for a totally worthless cause? And the biggest hypocrisy of it all? The ones most often doing the finger pointing (and I've noticed they usually do that pointing with their middle finger) are the very people the rest of us are trying not to offend.
I think Thumper from Disney's Bambi was right. "If you can't say something nice, then don't say nothin' at all."
"I can't think of a single public school worth lying to get into...the whole education system is terribly broken. We need to throw the whole traditional [education] system out and start over from scratch." - Marcie from OKC, commenting about the ten day jail sentence a woman from Ohio received after being taken to court by the school district for sending her son to a school outside her district's school/zone.
There aren't many things for which I don't have an opinion. But especially in this day and time where "Social Networking" is all the craze, I try to watch what I say so as to not offend any of my family and friends. That being said, there are simply some things better left to my own musings.
Yes, I know the first amendment of U.S. Constitution avows my freedom to speak without censorship or limitations. Yet to think that "Freedom of Speech" is an absolute is somewhat of a misnomer. Many social institutions have erected "speech codes" on what can be said in order to protect the public. One such limitation is that of "Hate Speech."
Hate speech is that which is considered to be "obscene, defamatory, slanderous, or hateful, and holds a reasonable potential to be harmful" (Lederer & Delgado 1995). It is a form of verbal aggression that expresses hatred, contempt, ridicule or threats toward a specific group or class of people (Asante 1998). It includes but is not limited to verbalizations, written messages, symbols or symbolic acts that are meant to demean and degrade. Hate speech often stems from thoughts and beliefs such as hatred, intolerance, prejudice, bigotry, or stereotyping (Allport 1954). Based on these definitions alone, it is plain to see many of us violate our most basic constitutional right on a daily basis. And to render such comments as those used to start this piece as acceptable, is nothing short of blasphemy and places our country in a precarious situation.
Ironically enough, many of the people behind these diatribes are often the same ones that insist we send our students on their merry way for "winter break" and greet strangers on the street with a "Happy Holidays." In Fahrenheit 451, science fiction author Ray Bradbury predicted this future for our society because we didn't want to upset "...the cat lovers,...the dog lovers,...the Baptists,...the Texans," etc.... As a result, the toes many try to tip toe around are the same toes that kick the rest of us in the gut on a daily basis.
"Remove the hatred the Republicans generate?" Really? What's the latent message there? Not a "single public school worth lying to get into?" Seriously? I guess I bust my ass every single day for a totally worthless cause? And the biggest hypocrisy of it all? The ones most often doing the finger pointing (and I've noticed they usually do that pointing with their middle finger) are the very people the rest of us are trying not to offend.
I think Thumper from Disney's Bambi was right. "If you can't say something nice, then don't say nothin' at all."
Monday, November 15, 2010
I've Always Hated Orange
I grew up in the '7o's. A time of roller skates, banana seats, corduroy pants, and pet rocks. Top movie: "Grease." Top TV show: "The Six Million Dollar Man." Top band: The Bee Gees. #1 Hair style: Feathered. And most popular colors: Avocado Green and Harvest Gold.Avocado Green and Harvest Gold accented with ORANGE I might add. That began my "hate affair" with the color orange. My trendy parents decided to paint each room of the house a different color: the den - orange, (I still don't understand that one since my father's an OU fan), my brother's room - blue, and my and my sister's room - yellow. I wanted mint green with light blue accents, but no, my parents chose harvest gold and avocado green accented with orange. We had these horrendous floral and plaid bedspreads sporting those dazzling colors and if that wasn't enough, my mom bought my sister and I matching nightgowns and robes. And when I say matching, I don't just mean "matching" in terms of each other. I mean "matching" as in "with the bedspreads!" Then to add insult to injury, we had to pose to have pictures taken. I cried my eyes out.
And I've never gotten over this. I refuse to purchase anything yellow - ever, and I want to vomit every time I see anything orange. Any shade or color combination involving orange sets my nausea into motion. Light, dark, bright, dull --- bring me a barf bag. Mixed with green or blue or purple --- all I can do is ask "Why?" Hell, I don't even like oranges, the fruit. You have to peel them and then those slimy little vein things get stuck in your teeth. Nasty!
So see, this isn't just a football thing. Granted, why you'd put orange with black unless it is part of a Halloween costume is beyond me. And burnt orange resembling Gerber's strained apricots is just completely classless. But when it comes to orange I'm equally prejudice on all fronts. I hate them all!
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Live Like We're Dying
Since the inception of my blog, I've tried to come up with a different topic each week. Occasionally, I've had a lot to say in a given week, and therefore posted a bit more frequently. This week I had a bad case of writer's block and decided I'd take a break. I have several things working for future blogs, and felt my time would be better spent working on those drafts. But then I attended a memorial service for a friend and realized that I wasn't quite done talking about him and his untimely passing.
By now, most of you know that Daryl Hunt died July 9, 2010 of a massive heart attack. He was 53 years old. He was an offensive lineman for OU and drafted by and played for the Houston Oilers for six years. Even at the time of his passing, he was a physical specimen and looked as though he could still deliver a hit or two if called upon. This alone negated any consolation I was suppose to find in the fact that the average NFL player only lives to be 59.
Saturday, a modest crowd of roughly 200 gathered at Second Baptist of Houston to remember this remarkable man. There was quite the olio of mourners: his mother and daughter, co-workers from Grocer's Supply and Quail Valley Country Club, congregation members from Brentwood Baptist, fellow Sooner alums, and Dan Pastorini, Mike Barber, Greg Bingham, Spencer Tillman and Barry Switzer to name a few.
I debated on whether or not to attend. I've dealt with my share of death in the past fifteen months, and just wasn't sure how much more I could take. Other than the actual day of his funeral in Odessa, I've managed to hold it together pretty well this time. It's hard to explain, but I didn't necessarily feel the devastation in his passing like I did with my friend Wayman a little over a year ago. Instead, his death has left me with a void that I know will not be easily filled.
Normally when we lose a loved one we talk about the things we didn't get to say or do before they left us. I can honestly say that for the year Daryl was a part of my life, we developed a bond that was unsurpassed. From all the stories I heard this weekend and over the past month, none of them were anything I hadn't heard before and I could have supplied a few of my own. Okay, I take that back. I didn't know he liked motorcycles which is probably just as well since I dream of one day owning a purple Harley. But that aside, it was the fact that I knew so much about someone in such a short time that has made it difficult for me to cope. Watching a slideshow tribute made me realize once again how much I've taken for granted.
And hence, the empty feeling. I didn't talk to Daryl every day, but I sure could have if I wanted. When school resumes in a couple of weeks, there will be no more texts at lunch time on Fridays telling me to "Hang in there. The weekend is almost here." When I work on Thursday nights, he he isn't going to surprise me by showing up for wings. His name and number are on my caller ID for the last time. Yet my only real regret is not being able to touch him again. I didn't stay for the reception Saturday, but instead came home and changed into a pair of his old shorts and a t-shirt. Something about that was profoundly comforting and soothing. It was like I could almost feel him again.
I know Daryl is up above keeping an eye on everyone down here and reminding them to cherish every moment of every day. This was evident during Switzer's eulogy Saturday where he praised Daryl and his family for the impact they've had on others. He shared a story about a dinner he had recently with a man that told him the Hunt's had influenced his life greatly. Right there at the dinner table, Barry called Elayne (Daryl's mom) and then Daryl himself so that the guy could thank them. As the story came to a close, Barry's cell phone rang as if on cue. He apologized to the congregation, looked at the LCD screen of his phone and told us, "That was Daryl calling. He just wanted to say 'Thank you!'"
By now, most of you know that Daryl Hunt died July 9, 2010 of a massive heart attack. He was 53 years old. He was an offensive lineman for OU and drafted by and played for the Houston Oilers for six years. Even at the time of his passing, he was a physical specimen and looked as though he could still deliver a hit or two if called upon. This alone negated any consolation I was suppose to find in the fact that the average NFL player only lives to be 59.
Saturday, a modest crowd of roughly 200 gathered at Second Baptist of Houston to remember this remarkable man. There was quite the olio of mourners: his mother and daughter, co-workers from Grocer's Supply and Quail Valley Country Club, congregation members from Brentwood Baptist, fellow Sooner alums, and Dan Pastorini, Mike Barber, Greg Bingham, Spencer Tillman and Barry Switzer to name a few.
I debated on whether or not to attend. I've dealt with my share of death in the past fifteen months, and just wasn't sure how much more I could take. Other than the actual day of his funeral in Odessa, I've managed to hold it together pretty well this time. It's hard to explain, but I didn't necessarily feel the devastation in his passing like I did with my friend Wayman a little over a year ago. Instead, his death has left me with a void that I know will not be easily filled.
Normally when we lose a loved one we talk about the things we didn't get to say or do before they left us. I can honestly say that for the year Daryl was a part of my life, we developed a bond that was unsurpassed. From all the stories I heard this weekend and over the past month, none of them were anything I hadn't heard before and I could have supplied a few of my own. Okay, I take that back. I didn't know he liked motorcycles which is probably just as well since I dream of one day owning a purple Harley. But that aside, it was the fact that I knew so much about someone in such a short time that has made it difficult for me to cope. Watching a slideshow tribute made me realize once again how much I've taken for granted.
And hence, the empty feeling. I didn't talk to Daryl every day, but I sure could have if I wanted. When school resumes in a couple of weeks, there will be no more texts at lunch time on Fridays telling me to "Hang in there. The weekend is almost here." When I work on Thursday nights, he he isn't going to surprise me by showing up for wings. His name and number are on my caller ID for the last time. Yet my only real regret is not being able to touch him again. I didn't stay for the reception Saturday, but instead came home and changed into a pair of his old shorts and a t-shirt. Something about that was profoundly comforting and soothing. It was like I could almost feel him again.
I know Daryl is up above keeping an eye on everyone down here and reminding them to cherish every moment of every day. This was evident during Switzer's eulogy Saturday where he praised Daryl and his family for the impact they've had on others. He shared a story about a dinner he had recently with a man that told him the Hunt's had influenced his life greatly. Right there at the dinner table, Barry called Elayne (Daryl's mom) and then Daryl himself so that the guy could thank them. As the story came to a close, Barry's cell phone rang as if on cue. He apologized to the congregation, looked at the LCD screen of his phone and told us, "That was Daryl calling. He just wanted to say 'Thank you!'"
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