Laughing Wolf

Friday, February 26, 2010

Into The Light:  Andrew Koenig

The topic(s) raised by this deserve a fuller discussion, but that is for another day.  For now, my thoughts go out to the parents and friends of Andrew Koenig. I’ve met his father a time or three, and to him and his wife, my sincere condolences.  May the light shine down on all those left behind, comfort and warm them, and guide them through the dark days ahead. 

LW

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Thoughts Go Out To Huntsville Area

The Huntsville, Alabama, area has twice now been my home.  It is a scenic area, there are a number of good people there, and there is a fair bit to commend it despite what can only be described as a horrid politico-power structure there. 

Yesterday, that area was rocked by the second school shooting in a matter of days.  The first was a student shooting, and yesterday was by an academic at UAH. 

My thoughts go out to all in that area, especially to those who have suffered loss or injury in these shootings.  While the local structure is already blaming possessed and obviously evil inanimate objects, I lay the responsibility with those who perpetrated these outrages.  People do things.  Other people suffer as a result.  I ask you to keep those who now suffer in your thoughts, prayers, meditations, or whatever you do.  May the light shine on them, guide them, and guard them now and in the days ahead. 

LW

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

Into The Light:  Helen, Mother of the English Werewolf

It is with sorrow that I report that Helen, the mother of the English Werewolf (who hasn’t posted here in far too long), has lost her fight with cancer.  EW reports that she died peacefully, and in no pain.  May the light have welcomed her home, and may it shine down upon those she leaves behind, guide them in their journey, and warm them with love. 

LW

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Not The Start I Planned

For Christmas Day.  My plan, to which Jenny was apparently agreeable, was to sleep in (for us at least) and not rise until after six, or maybe even seven.  The storm and wind that had moved through around two or so had caused me to awake enough to note the popping of the flags and such, but at some point a much louder POP brought me at least half awake.  Part of that was because I knew it could not be the flags as first thought, nor was it right for gunshot, mortar, rocket, or other known threats.  There was something about it that sounded almost like fireworks, and brought forth the Scrooge who was grumbling about who the hell could be shooting off fireworks on Christmas morning?!? Bah, Humbug!  But, it didn’t sound right and Jenny was not in the bed shaking (standard for even one firecracker).  I peeled back the layers covering the window at the head of the bed, looked out, and said “Oh, s**t!”.

The rear corner of the house next door, an area of enclosed porch, was on fire.  In fact, it looked like a jet of flame rushing up and spreading out. 

I was out of bed and telling Jenny to stay put almost instantaneously.  911 was called and I filled them in as I frantically dressed.  Parts of that call were amusing, even at the time, especially the tone/reaction when I said there was not gas service in the wilds, everyone had propane tanks (think it was just one word, “oh").  Was glad when she let me go, (impatient I was for that from the go) as I was starting to implement a plan in place for just such an occasion.

The house in question was not occupied, but was stuffed with, er, stuff for the “antique” business there.  More a yard sale than anything else, I’ve been hearing for years now about making it more, but… The house was stuffed full, as were multiple vehicles and portable storage sheds and a two-car garage that crowded close in upon it.  The idea of a fire there had worried one of my neighbors and myself a good bit, as if the house went up odds were the sheds and vehicles would too, and the normal winds would probably push it so that it got us as well. 

Leaving a hurt and bemused Jenny inside, I dashed outside to start part one of the plan.  The other neighbors were not home, so no point pounding on their door and making sure they were up.  Unlock front gate in case responders needed access via my yard or to my yard.  So, on to the rest of the plan. 

To be honest, I didn’t have much hope for it, for if the winds did as normal, the hose I hooked up with haste would be about like spitting on a nuclear explosion, but it was the best I could do.  I laid out the hose, attached a nozzle and charged the hose.  The plan at that point was to spray yard and house to try and slow things down and, with a lot of luck, keep damage to a minimum.  Part two, never implemented, was to evacuate Jenny and some key items and get clear when part one hit a particular failure point. 

To my amazement, the wind had switched direction, and instead of blowing everything on me and a neighbor it blew it away from us.  The wind almost never seems to blow that direction, but Christmas morning I said a quick thanks for the gift of a wind that kept me and my neighbor safe.  My hose lay unused on the ground, as there was nothing it could do on the inferno next door, and no sparks or flames made it into my yard.  They all went across the road and into the gravel lot fronting a nearby grain elevator where they could do no harm. 

In just the few minutes since I first saw the fire, the house was almost completely involved.  The first fireman to come in back had some propane tanks pointed out to him, along with the caveat that there might be more in the house, vehicles, and structures.  Another fireman came a few minutes later and detached the tanks pointed out from the smoking camper to which they were attached.  The fire fighters then attacked the fire, and kept it from spreading further. 

It was only then that I thought of taking photos, and took the first ones with the mobile.  Later, I went and got the good camera, and got a few more. 

My thanks to the volunteer fire departments that responded.  They did a good job and were on the scene as quick as they could be.  The Red Cross also deserves kudos for having a vehicle out to provide coffee and some snacks to the firemen working the scene.  They came back at least twice more to follow-up, soak some areas some more, and make sure that things truly were under control. 

My Christmas gift was that my home (and that of my neighbors) still stands, courtesy of some well-timed rain and a wind that suddenly decided to blow opposite of norm.  The snow that followed later in the day was a nice touch too, and much appreciated.  I give thanks for this gift, and am reminded forcefully of the spirit of the day and of the season. 

May your Christmas have been as rich and blessed as mine and Jenny’s. 

LW

Monday, October 26, 2009

The Passing of a Giant

Cross-posted at Blackfive. 

First, I need to start with a disclaimer:  The following is my personal account and thoughts, and in no way represents the official position of Purdue, the Weldon School of Biomedical Engineering, the College of Engineering, Marketing & Media, or any other person, entity, or institution. 

In this life, we are sometimes blessed to know people who are more than simply unique.  These are people who challenge the status quo, our assumptions about the world and even about what we can do, and do so in a way that is a joy to watch and be a part of.  These are people who literally change the world, and the greatest of them also change those around them in powerful and positive ways as well. 

For the last five years, I’ve had the honor to be a colleague of one such person.  Made frail by time, effectively blind, he still showed up for work every morning at 0430 for the majority of the time I knew him.  A man who did not care what position or title you held, but what ideas you held and how hard you were willing to work.  Focused on one thing and one thing only:  changing the world for the better by improving the lives and health of people.  Doing that one thing, he changed the face of modern medicine and made possible the modern implantable medical device industry.  More than that, he shaped the minds of those around him and somehow, someway, taught others to think outside the box.

That man, was Leslie Alexander Geddes

Purdue has an official release that details a few, and just a few, of his accomplishments.  I say a few because they were legion and include more than 30 (closer to 50 I think) patents, numerous books and articles, and a drive that had to be seen to be believed. 

To give you an idea of the man, his research career came from an incident that was somewhat embarrassed to discuss with me early on, as “It nearly got me court martialed.” Born in Scotland, not far from Glasgow, his family had moved to Canada and during WWII a very young Les Geddes was a member of His Majesty’s engineering corps.  That is, until a commanding officer bet the young engineer that he could not blow up the commander’s favorite bunker with X amount of explosives (as the tale was related to me by another).  Being Les, he was sure he could and did so, rather spectacularly from the acount given to me.  It was then that the commander decided that research was a better place for him, putting that ingenuity to work on other issues. 

That research was in doing nerve damage mapping in the wounded, and finding ways to help them.  An electrical engineering degree in 1945 was just the first step of a career dedicated to helping others and finding new and innovative ways to do things.  A Doctorate in physiology soon followed, and led to work developing the physiological monitoring systems for the first astronauts.  Despite the passage of time and march of technology, some of those systems are still in use today because of how well, and how simply and effectively, they were designed. 

Part of that was because Les Geddes always found a way to approach things from outside the box.  That’s not really right, however, because what I always found was that he found a way to move the box and turn it so that the new view was clear and straight. 

One example I witnessed first hand involved CPR.  The fact is, CPR is neither effective nor efficient, and --as Les noted—if it were a medical procedure instead of an emergency procedure, it would have been shelved long ago.  Les decided that this was not acceptable, and set out to change the success rate by changing CPR.  The first thing he realized was that in all the years people have done and researched CPR, no one had ever done a study to find out how much force was needed to meet the guidelines.  Two undergraduate students, a summer, and the research was done.  Fact is, it takes in excess of 100 pounds of force to meet the current guidelines, and it is very difficult for most people to meet the minimum amount of force needed. 

The undergraduates who did the project under his supervision are a key here, a key to how he operated.  In the academic research game, most people are—in my opinion—very hung up on titles, positions, degrees, and such.  Not Les.  If you had a good idea, you had a good idea and it didn’t matter if you were the custodian.  If you had an energy and talent he needed, you were part of the team and a full member at that.  If you look at the grant applications and papers from his team(s), you will find people who are not Ph.D’s holding key positions, even lead authors and grant recipients.  I can think of a couple of staff members who do not have doctorates, but probably have more NIH and other prestigious grants and significant journal articles than formal faculty at other institutions.  He shared the wealth and put credit where it was due. 

Sharing the wealth was literal too.  When Purdue sharked Les and his team from Baylor back in 1974, one of the first things he did was to force Purdue to revamp how they did patents.  In short order, Purdue found itself sharing patent royalties with not just the inventor/researcher (a novel idea for the time), but with the departments in which they worked.  Les made sure that the researchers had an incentive to not just do research but innovate, and that their departments had good cause to let them do so.  He also stood staid academia on its head by actively seeking out corporate and other similar research funds.  Doing commercial research was an anathema to many in academia (and too all to many today), but he went ahead and did it—and in the process showed that it was not dirty and why it was necessary. 

He took on many a cherished notion in academia with confidence born of knowing he was doing what he knew to be right and proper.  Research for research sake?  Why on Earth would you want to do that.  “Great research, now what are you going to do with it?” was a question he asked students and others often.  What are you going to do with the knowledge?  What good is knowledge if you don’t use it for the good? 

This focus on practical results shaped not only his career, but the careers of those he has taught formally and informally.  He had a knack of taking esoteric research results and correlating them to real-world medical problems.  As a result, he and his team(s) formulated all but one of the laws of heart defibrillation, and put the defibrillator on the market.  Not content with that, research he started resulted in improved pacemaker designs and implantable defibrillators—along with a range of other devices and products. 

Between this “outside the box” thinking and grabbing good students and staff no matter what their official major or status, Purdue found itself in a rather unique dilemma because of Les.  It seems that one day Purdue woke up to find it had a nationally ranked biomedical engineering program.  The problem was, there was no formal program.  The easy solution, make it a formal graduate program.  That not only worked well, but led to the creation of an undergraduate program as well.  Today, where once was a lab in the basement of a building, there is a full school with its own dedicated research and education building, a building built with half its cost being paid by private donations. 

Les officially retired in 1991 because Purdue has a mandatory retirement age for administrators.  What happened was typical Les:  “You mean I can keep teaching and keep doing research, but simply don’t have to do all the paperwork?  Where do I sign!” was the response he told me he gave.  He cheerfully kept on confounding the academic bureaucracy however.  Fools and roadblocks found Les impossible to deal with, because he either ignored them or went around them in such a way they really couldn’t figure out how he did it.

One such item was his cheerful dismissal of certain, er, concerns.  When one does research involving humans, you have to go through the human subjects committee for approval.  Les put out nothing that he had not tried on himself in some way first.  His view, not shared by the administrative types, was that doing to himself did not require such, only if he did it on others. 

One of the most terrifying moments of my life involved once such thing.  I mentioned CPR earlier, and a new method of CPR is in the approval pipelines (about 5-7 years from now given what is required to meet all regulatory approvals).  Roughly 25 percent more effective in terms of oxygenated blood movement, no broken ribs, and no need for rescue breathing since it forces the body to breathe on its own.  This new method was being demonstrated to a VIP group and I had agreed to be the demo dummy for it.  Les, however, decided that such was not to be:  he made me do it to him.  Those who have met me know that I am not 5’4” a la Jimbo, and am somewhat, er, husky.  Les was about 86, and to my eyes quite frail.  I looked calm, but my inner voice was going something like “ohmygodi’mgoingtobreakhimeveryoneisgoingtohatemeohmygodpleasedon’tletmehurthimi’llhateme...”

This resulted in one of the few times in my life I’ve flat out lied.  I started compressions on him and he asked how hard I was pushing, so I told him I was pushing 100 lbs of force, which resulted in an immediate bark of “No you’re not, HARDER!” I kept it as light as I could, but still got a lot closer to 100 lbs than I cared to.  I didn’t break him, and in talking to his grad student later I mentioned my concerns which got me a look at a comment of “Welcome to my world.”

Those that knew him were not surprised at all when he did something totally outside normal protocol when being awarded the National Medal of Technology by President Bush.  The President was very well aware that Les was effectively blind and starting to have trouble with steps and such.  When it came time for Les to come up to receive the medal, the President came down to him and helped him up onto the dias.  Les, being Les, decided that he needed to impart some words of wisdom to the President and treated him as he would any student:  he reached up, and pulled the President down to him.  President Bush took it in stride, and even with some amusement which he carefully hid from Les.  The Marine guards stiffened, and you could hear the collective gasp from the audience at the lesse.  That is, you could hear it on the television, at Purdue in the conference room, all you could hear were laughs and comments about how Les would be Les and considered the President to be just another student. 

In many respects, we were all just students to him, but that is not a denigration at all.  Les, I think, saw himself as a student as well, always learning, always exploring, and always innovating.  In the last few months, you visited him at your peril.  He knew that his time was short, and if you visited you found yourself being given assignments.  I have a couple myself, though I am not sure that I can do some TBI research at Purdue or if it may have to be done elsewhere.  He also gave me another task that I will do my best to make happen, and soon. 

Les was one of my staunchest supporters when I did my embeds.  He absolutely could not understand why anyone would not be supportive of them, and delighted in my briefing him after I did them.  He wanted me to go again, and I and another have an assignment to try to make that happen.  Les was also quite taken with some of the medical supplies and gear I brought back.  As he examined them, I saw the wheels turning, and I have little doubt that someone has an assignment to try to improve on the emergency combat medical gear. 

Leslie Alexander Geddes never forgot being a soldier.  He worked over the years on many things to try to benefit them.  This included means of monitoring and treating soldiers in early MOPP gear, and a number of other things.  That’s all I can say on that, but he never disdained the troops or in doing things for them. 

Yesterday morning, Les left this world for the next.  In true fashion, he asked for no funeral and no memorial.  I honestly believe that any such embarrassed him, and it was his contention that a surprise event we did for him a few years ago was more than enough.  It was really nor surprise that he also gave his body to science, in the hope that it would help medical students and medical research. 

I can tell you that I believe that there are now things in the pipeline that will make regenerative tissue scaffolds, defibrillators, non-invasive neo-natal monitoring units, and other things he did to save lives and invent modern medicine seem to be nothing.  I don’t know what all he has initiated, but look forward to that new method of CPR becoming the new standard.  I look forward to new heights of regenerative medicine.  I look forward to a longer and better life because of the research done by Les Geddes and his teams, and because he taught so many how to step outside the box, move it, and twist it. 

Les taught until the end.  This last Thursday was the first day he had not teleconned into his last class.  Yet, even so, he is still teaching us a lesson.  Thank you Les, for doing that.  Pay it forward. 

LW

Monday, July 06, 2009

Into The Light:  Ken “Khen” Moore

I got the word this weekend that Ken “Khen” Moore has passed into the light.  Years back, I began to attend and speak at Science Fiction conventions and Khen was someone I met fairly early on.  To see him at a con was interesting, with his own version of short shorts (Daisey Duke would have been envious), a t-shirt, somewhat long hair, and a taste for partying that had to be seen to be believed. 

Khen himself one time told me “I’m a pro, don’t try this at home” and I should have listened, for I tried one memorable (or hazy) afternoon in Phoenix, AZ to keep up with Khen and a buddy who had won the Illinois lottery—which explains why I was on my knees getting the key into my hotel room door and going to bed at something like four in the afternoon.  To make matters worse, I had failed to check for down pillows, and so awoke about 0100 hours choking and wheezing from the down.  I still laugh at that one, and so did Khen. 

The stories told about Khen are legend.  His habit of going to sleep wherever he was when bedtime came, and not moving or reacting until the next morning, led to some good jokes being played on him.  Some of the lovely ladies of science fiction fandom at various times sewed his t-shirt to his shorts, and his fly shut; sewed his clothes to the bedspread he was on; and, I suspect they were very tempted to sew other things as well.  I know of at least one beer (and a few soda) can pyramid being built over him as well.  In the latter case, he did his normal sit up first thing in the morning (think Data from the STtNG premier, it was that mechanical) and took down the pyramid as planned.  In the case of the sewing, autopilot continued to carry him into the bathroom, trailing the bedspread without apparent notice I am told, and to a shifting so that he could get things out the leg of his short shorts to take care of necessary business.  I’m still not convinced he was awake at any point during that time.

One of the meanest jokes done to him was not done by me.  He had been warned at the first world horror convention that there was a dress code and that certain things would not be tolerated.  He followed the dress code during the day, but had changed into his short shorts for festivities that evening—and fell asleep in a (the?) consuite as was his want.  I happened to be staying in one of the private rooms of the suite as I was helping provide security for a guest of the con, and note that I was not the one who shaved one or both legs and then used something nasty to write messages to Khen and do meat guides (like you see for beef) all over him.  I simply provided the merthiolate (sp?) for others to use.  Khen spent a LONG time in the shower the next morning, came out red from the scrubbing, and unconvincingly saying it never happened/that he couldn’t see anything/never noticed…

For all that he partied at cons, early on when I met him I was impressed with the sharp mind that was there.  He could talk with knowledge on a variety of subjects, from literature to science, and could do some good analysis on problems and ideas.  Some of that doubtless came from work he did on a variety of advanced aircraft, including the B-1, he helped build. 

For all that Khen was got (often) with jokes, he gave pretty good too.  He denied being the one behind a particularly good one that happened right after the loss of the Challenger.  If you’ve ever been around southern fandom, you’ve heard the line “It’s all Uncle Timmy’s fault!” before.  Somehow, someway, someone got onto a fairly secure system in the days after Challenger and sent out something that appeared to be an initial asessment and had a good page or so of facts and observations.  It got to the point that it came to its conclusion, you flipped/scrolled to the fresh page, and there was “It’s all Uncle Timmy’s fault!” This led to Uncle Timmy getting a visit from the Feds, and to much amusement (later in Timmy’s case) for those in science and/or fandom.  I still wonder (and suspect) if Khen might really have been the one who did it despite perfunctory denials.

Khen had some difficulties in later life, and I had heard that he had required a repair to his aorta.  From the reports, he didn’t do well in the two years after that surgery.  He passed in his sleep on June 30. 

Khen and Bill Payne were two fixtures of Nashville fandom for me, and now both are gone. An era in fandom is drawing to a close. 

As I will hoist a bheer in honor of Ken (and Bill), I ask you to do the same.  I hope that Khen is hoisting one for us in that which awaits.

LW

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Thoughts Out To Those In DC

My thoughts are out to those affected by the Metro crash in DC, and most especially to those who have lost a loved one in the crash.  I know that line very well, and the Fort Totten station as it has been a regular transfer point for me in the last several trips to DC.  There is a lot of work being done on the tracks, and I saw it starting last time I was there.  May the light shine on them all, and may you keep them in your thoughts and prayers too.

LW

Sunday, March 01, 2009

Into The Light: Paul Harvey

Well, damn.  A broadcast pioneer and icon has passed, but the rest of the story has still to be written.  Paul Harvey was not just a fixture of radio (and to a limited extent on television), I agree with see-dubya that he helped start blogging.  The style, the digging and presentation of that left out of news, and the rest-of-the-story he presented presaged the rise of the blogosphere decades before the internet.  He was an influence on my and my radio work, even when I did not want to admit it, and his solid reporting and presentation have stood the test of time and remain long after the fads of the day.  His values stood as well, and remained the foundation of all he did.  While I credit Jerry Pournelle as being the original blogger, I have to say that Paul was the godparent of blogging as well as what became talk radio and modern broadcast news.  He will be missed, but his legacy will live on for many years—if not generations—to come.

LW

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Into The Light:  Konrad Dannenberg

One of the few remaining members of the Von Braun rocket team has passed.  While I did not know him as well as I knew some others, he always was helpful and demonstrated class in all he did.  May the light have welcomed him home.

LW

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Into The Light:  Johns Rabun

My former colleague and friend JR, Johns Rabun, has passed into the light.  I sort of figure he would appreciate the JR designation, as he was in the 6’5” range, large boned, and the polar opposite of JR Ewing on Dallas.  He was a gentle man, patient, and one heck of a good editor and technical writer who made the transition to science writer.  He was a fantastic cook, and more than one person where we worked began paying him to make food for lunch.  Had I more money at that time, I would have paid him to do all my lunches.  His Mexican cooking was great, and he was no slouch with other styles as well. 

It turns out that when he had the heart attack (which followed not only the infection mentioned, but a couple of related surgeries), his heart stopped for approximately 20 minutes.  Frankly, I’m amazed they got it back going again as unless the patient is outside in the frigid cold or on ice, 10 minutes is it.  You lose 10 percent of the ability to bring someone back (functionality) for every minute the heart is stopped. 

Johns is survived by his wife, a wonderful lady I remember with a laugh.  She was far more petite than Johns, and I remember her coming to pick up the youngest of their two daughters from Aikido in Huntsville, and the daughter (barely a teenager if even there yet) already her size or a bit larger.  The oldest took after her mom in size, and seemed to have the calmness of both.  The youngest was large like her father, and exuberant.  I can still remember when she was only about three years old, and had learned that she could take down adults with ease—and took some delight in so doing, making going to visit (esp. at a party with things in your hands) quite interesting. 

I know the light has welcomed you home Johns, and may it shine down with extra warmth from your love on your wife and daughters now and in the days ahead.  May it warm them, guide them, and be with them.  I’m going to go find an appropriate drink, think of a few more funny things—damn I miss your dry humor and have since our ways parted.  I wonder how many people from NASA-land are wandering around without legs and don’t know it, after you cut them off at the waist with that humor.  You had a gift for the bon mot and summation that was a delight to hear. 

It was a pleasure and an honor to know you, and sad I am that it was for such a short time.  Glad I am, however, that I had the opportunity.

To all of you who come here, please keep his family in your thoughts, prayers, chants, spells, or whatever it is that you do. 

LW

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Into The Light:  Karin

Yesterday brought calls to let me know that Karin had passed into the light sometime overnight Friday.  It was a bit of a surprise, for while she had had some issues (lack of shedding, for example), she seemed to be doing well.  To be honest, when the first call came, I was very much afraid it was another wolf with whom age seems to be catching up. 

Karin was a sweetheart to people, and was a “test wolf” for volunteers and others who are going to be working with the wolves.  The “test wolf” is one of the first, if not the first wolf, that you meet to see if you have been listening and paid attention during training.  They are chosen as they are good with people, far more forgiving than the staff of mistakes and missteps, and are good to be with. 

The largest issue in terms of people and Karin was that she was fascinated by the smells on people’s hair, most likely all the botanical and other wildly scented shampoos.  She was known to try to scent roll on people’s hair as a result, which was fun to watch I must admit.  It was also occasionally cringe worthy, as Karin did it with vigor—resulting in frequent sounds that were a cross between a thunk and a crack as her jaw and/or skull impacted the person’s skull with said vigor. 

I bid her peace and know that the light has welcomed her home.  I worry for her mate, Apollo, for Karin was his light and life.  Their story is my favorite love story out there.  When they were in the pack together, Apollo carried a torch for her, to which she replied “not if you were the last wolf on Earth!” She was adamant enough about it that Apollo still sports the scars of her saying no.  Apollo left the pack before Karin, and when she was deposed as Alpha female (and survived), she went to the retirement community.  A feature of said community, known as Eastlake, is that the residents do remember each other and old grudges, so what is termed fence fighting goes on a good bit with insults, catcalls (pardon the term), challenges, and the occasional bon mot being exchanged.  A while after Karin arrived, it was noted that she was not fence fighting with Apollo; rather, she was doing the wolf equivalent of making google-eyes at him.  So, Karen had Apollo and his roomate Uncle Al over for a couple of afternoon teas, then a sleepover, and the final sleepover has just ended. 

Whatever you may have heard, or perhaps seen on a particularly craptastic show on now, wolves are just as monogamous as humans and not all mate for life.  Apollo and Karin were a couple, and faithful, for there was no other light in Apollo’s sky but her.  To him my thoughts go out, for this will not be an easy time for him.  Please keep him in your thoughts as well. 

LW

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Into The Light:  Dean Barnett

I saw the news yesterday, and in some ways still can’t believe that Dean has finally lost his long fight with Cystic Fibrosis.  He was the epitome of tenacity, and showed remarkable courage and humor in the face of all life sent his way.  The world is richer for his having been here, and the poorer for his departure.

LW

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Into The Light:  Paul Newman

For the most part, I think George Moneo at Babalu Blog sums it up for me.  I admired the actor, respected the man.  I disagreed with him on almost every political issue of the day, though not all.  I loved the fact that he decided to use his celebrity to start products and use the money to push ideas and support goals of his choice, rather than demanding that others give up their money for his beliefs.  In that respect, he was a true capitalist and while that label would send many into a tizzie (and I hope it does, actually), I think he appreciated the humor in that.  His beliefs were not mine, but he was a class act, and the world would benefit much if we all acted a bit more like him.

LW

Friday, June 06, 2008

The Loss of a Good Enemy

Yesterday evening, I got the news that Socrates had passed on.  It wasn’t a shock in many respects, though he had been doing well enough that I actually thought he would make it to the fall. 

Socrates was not a friend, but was in that rare and special category that I would call a good enemy.  He was a mean, cantankerous, and possibly even vicious SOB.  He also had a sense of humor, a code, and you knew where you stood with him.  He also came the closest so far of any wolf to doing me harm. 

A few years ago when I was doing meatballs (meat with medicines inside), he demonstrated the elasticity of chain-link fence by hitting it at a run and bowing it out a good distance to snatch a meatball from my hand.  Had I not been carrying it properly, my fingers might well have gone with the meatball—which would have just made it all the better from his standpoint.  He was quite pleased with himself that day, and I swear he laughed at me after he did it.

For all that he was, I could respect him and even like him—not because of what he wasn’t, but because of what he was. 

I’ve tried to explain the concept of a good enemy to some people, and don’t think I’ve done a good job of it.  Maybe you have to be or have been in an odd position on the spear (or knife) to get it.  Maybe not.  But I would like to take a stab at it here to see if I can do better. 

Friends/acquaintances are easy to find, especially as today’s social networking often encourages one to claim someone marginally met as a “friend” for life.  While I sometimes take shameless advantage of it, I do find the cheapening of the concept of friendship as a problem, but that is a post for another day.  What truly matters to this argument is that acquaintances and casual friends are not hard to come by. 

What is truly rare and wonderful are what I call “True Friends.” In years past, I summed up the difference between the two types as that True Friends were the people in your life for whom you would give your own life without apparent hesitation, and know that they would do the same for you.  These are the people who not only help you with bodies, they also don’t turn state’s evidence.  You trust them with your life, your fortune, your honor, your spouse, and your kids.  They are the blood you have chosen.  People like this in your life you usually can count on your fingers, if not the fingers of one hand. 

Enemies are a dime a dozen.  As with friends, the term enemies has been cheapened and such is also a growing problem within the social compact much less the social matrix.  Again, that is a discussion for another day.  Enemies range from the person who snubs you professionally or socially to any of the true scum-of-the-earth that pollute our world.  Real enemies have few or no rules to life, no code, no honor, and usually a propensity towards violence without thought or meaning.  True enemies are usually those that you could (and even should) kill and who’s demise would greatly improve the world.

Every now and then, though, comes along a rare breed.  They are the Good Enemy.  They may be your complete antithesis and stand for all that you despise; but, they also have something more to them.  It often is a code, a sense of honor, a strong intellect with corresponding sense of humor, and something else I find hard to define.  The end result is what truly matters, however, and the funny thing is you trust them, respect them, and even like them. 

The good enemy is the person you would sit down and enjoy a beer with them, even knowing that in the past they had orders to kill you, or could even still have them now but that circumstances of the moment make the meeting safe.  Safe because they do have that intellect, humor, and honor.  Safe because the circumstances of the moment are such that you would have each other’s backs against any and all comers.  They are the person that if any but a friend had to kill you, you would want it to be them because you knew that they would do it right and do right by you and yours then and afterwards.  You may despise that for which they work, but you understand and respect the principled decision that went into their choosing to do so.  You even understand when it was just circumstances.

Good Enemies are the people that you are almost surprised when the end comes, amazed if they die peacefully in bed, somewhat regret you weren’t the agent of death, and you miss them.  Two-legged or four-legged.  I’ve been fortunate to have both, and in this case, I will miss his meanness Mr. Socrates. 

For the world is much less rich and vibrant for the loss of any True Friend and Good Enemy. 

LW

Friday, May 30, 2008

Into The Light:  Harvey Korman

I used to love the Carol Burnett show, and Harvey was one of the reasons.  The cast was a true ensemble, and they played so well off each other, but to this day I still think of Carol, Vicki, Harvey, and Lyle Waggoner as the heart of that show.  It produced so much laughter and pure entertainment magic.  Havey went on, and outside the show I still think Blazing Saddles as one of his best roles.  After a series of health issues, Harvey Korman has passed into the light.  May the light shine on his family and friends in the days ahead, and good warm laughter have greeted him and wash over them in the days ahead. 

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