THE SPENDING OF IT'S NEVER DONE

It’s interesting how the passing of time and the accumulation of years can change a guy.
These days I seem to move a little slower and pay a lot more attention to what happens around me.

I seem to make more connections between past, present, and future.

I don’t know whether it is the end of summer and the approaching fall season, or the fact that I’m entering the autumn of my years, but thoughts of ancestors and legacies are foremost in my mind.

I’ve noticed that the people across the street, a young couple with an infant son, have been doing a lot of work on their house this year.
Landscaping,
Exterior painting,
New gutters installed.
Most of the work is actually being overseen, and largely performed, by the husband’s dad.

Reminds me of our place.
My dad “helped” us in the same way with a lot of the projects on our house.
Installing doors,

Wiring circuits,

Pouring a concrete patio.

When considering his legacy after he passed away in January of 2012 we kept circling back to the building that dad did over the years.

Pre-fab houses while in college,

The lake home in Ely,
And church congregations throughout his career.

Building tangible things that will survive beyond your days.
What a great legacy for dad to leave.

I was considering that, on Labor Day, as I sat on our front porch deck that dad and Junior built together years ago. Looking across the street I watched as the neighbors jack-hammered the cement stoop off of their house, and began framing in a front porch deck of their own.

Knowing the enormity of such a project I waited until early evening, when the work was being completed for the day, and tools were getting packed up, to wander over to check on their progress.

I introduced myself to the grandfather/foreman of the project.
I asked a few questions about how the project was taking shape when the older man said,
“We’re trying to build it similar to the one over there.” as he pointed at our house.

I laughed and said, “That’s my place. My dad and son built that deck a few years back.”

“Well,” he said, “My hat’s off to them. All my son kept saying was, ‘My neighbor has a deck out front and he sits out there all the time! I‘d like one of those too.’”
The man continued, “How could I say no to that?”

As a dad and grandfather myself I know he couldn’t say no.

It wasn’t until I arrived back on my deck that it struck me.
Not only did we have physical evidence of dad’s impact on the world, I now had proof that, more than 7 years after he was gone, he was still inspiring others with his works and the example he set.

While pondering that I came across this passage from Ernest Hemingway’s FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS,

“I had an inheritance from my father,

It was the moon and the sun.

And though I roam all over the world,

The spending of it’s never done.”

Yep dad, your legacy is constant, like night following day.
It’s universal, I see it in so many of the places I go.
And, I’m beginning to believe it’s everlasting, that it’ll carry on long after I am gone.

I guess that’s how things pass; from father to son.

And the spending of it is never done.

THE CUT OF HIS JIB

I married into a Navy family.

My father-in-law and two brothers-in-law all served in that branch of the military.
Two of them served as radio men, one in Texas, and the other on an aircraft carrier all over the
globe. The third was a yeoman purser, performing clerical duties on a submarine.

While their duties seem less Navy specific than other roles in the military, in talking to them I did
find out that they each received some general seamanship lessons during Basic Training.

Having myself descended from woodland Native American and rural German American stock,
and NOT having served in the US Navy, I am a confirmed novice regarding all things maritime.
I know absolutely nothing about hoisting a mainsail, battening down hatches, nor why the part of
a ship named the “Forecastle” is pronounced as “folk-sill”.

I guess we can agree that, when off of dry land, I don’t even know my fore from my aft!

I’m okay with that though. The sailing term I’m most familiar with is the oft used (at least back in
the day) comment,

“I like the cut of his jib!”

The jib is the smaller sail, without a boom, that hangs off the mast ahead of the much larger
mainsail. Some sailors believe that the jib is the face of a sailing vessel.

The URBAN DICTIONARY defines the term, ‘The cut of your jib’, as,
“An old sailor’s term for one’s intangible qualities. Often judged on first impressions.”

Conventional wisdom states that we shouldn’t be too quick to judge; shouldn’t judge a book by
it’s cover.

But we all do it.
I know I have.

Sometimes that first impression is all you really get to make a determination.
It’s always gratifying when your first impression of a person is borne out over time.

Here’s one that worked out for me.

Over my travels I’ve met an awful lot of interesting people with a vast array of stories to tell.
I was fortunate enough to have a lot of good friends from high school including a kid named
Danny O’Hara. Danny was a ballboy for the Minnesota Twins.
I haven’t heard a lot of his stories, but I bet he’s got a ton of them.

Dan was the kid, in uniform, on the field, stationed down the first baseline, on a chair, on the
warning track that butted up against the stands at the old Metropolitan Stadium.
His on-field duties during the game included shagging foul balls, and playing catch with the
right-fielder between innings to warm-up.

Growing up in Bloomington we used to go to a lot of Twins games. The team didn’t draw a lot of
fans some years so we merely had to buy cheap tickets to get in the door and then we could sit
pretty much wherever we wanted to.

On a summer Sunday afternoon in (I believe it was) 1978 we decided to sit along the rail so in
addition to his regular duties Dan also got to entertain me, another friend I was at the game with
and the young first base umpire Steve Palermo, who, seeing us chatting it up came over to visit
between innings.

Palermo seemed like a really nice guy. I felt kind of bad for initially telling him my name was Al.
You see the American League umpires all wore hats with an “AL” on them for American League.
Back then an AL hat would’ve been about impossible to get. Nowadays you can get just about
anything online. I figured I’d appeal to his sense of justice; who better to have an AL hat than a
guy named Al. I thought it’d be cool to wear one since everybody else was wearing their favorite
team’s hats that I’d be the outlier wearing an umpire’s hat.

It didn’t work though. I didn’t get the hat. But I was gaining a new friend.
(I confessed my lie to Palermo and he got a laugh out of that too!)

I liked the cut of Palermo’s jib.

After the next half inning he came back out to where we were sitting and told a few jokes.
All these years later I still remember one of them.

“What’s the difference between a hippo and a Zippo?
One is REALLY heavy and the other is a little lighter.”
Ba-dum-tss!

Who can’t like a guy that’d start telling bad jokes to folks he just met?
Ya gotta like the cut of that jib.

Nine years later, on August 3rd, 1987, Steve Palermo was on the umpiring crew, in Anaheim
California, that found an emery board and sandpaper in the pockets of Twins knuckleball pitcher
Joe Niekro. American League President Bobby Brown suspended Niekro for 10 days.
A few nights later David Letterman had Niekro on his show wearing a tool belt with a power
sander attached to it.

I could have been mad at the umpires that busted the Twins pitcher but Palermo joked to
Minneapolis Star Tribune baseball writer, Jerry Zgoda, that perhaps Niekro, or the umpiring
crew from that night (Palermo, Chief Dave Phillips, Tim Tschida, and Dan Morrison) ought to be
in line for endorsement deals from either Black and Decker or Revlon.

On the field Palermo was all business, but he could joke about things after the fact.
He seemed like a really good guy that way. What’s not to like about that?

Fast forward to July 7th, 1991. Palermo was out to dinner at Campisi’s, an Italian eatery in
Dallas Texas, after having worked an Angels/Rangers game. Someone rushed into the
restaurant and yelled that two waitresses that had just left the building were being assaulted out
in the parking lot.
Palermo and five other good guys rushed outside to offer assistance.

Shots were fired.

Palermo was hit.

The bullet severed the nerves at the base of Palermo’s spine.
Six weeks later he began regaining the use of his legs.

Using crutches, and with some assistance, Palermo threw out the first pitch at the World Series that year.
After years of daily physical therapy he was able to walk with a cane.

Palermo never worked as an umpire again after that fateful night.
Major League Baseball did hire him on as an assistant to work on special projects.

Steve Palermo died from lung cancer on May 14th, 2017. He was 67 years old.

In his later years, whenever he was asked whether he ever regretted running out into the
parking lot of that Dallas restaurant, Palermo gave the same answer,

“It’s NEVER a mistake to help someone in trouble.”

I just loved the cut of Steve Palermo’s jib.

THEY CAN PUT A MAN ON THE MOON, BUT...

I try to be observant as I travel about my daily business.
Sometimes I see some interesting stuff, sometimes not.

I’m pretty confident that when I was younger I wasn’t as aware of things occurring around me.

My Lovely Bride certainly will attest to numerous profound items that have escaped my notice over the years.
Important dates.
Family members’ new hairstyles.

Entire rooms of furniture being rearranged.

Historically I just haven’t been very aware of stuff around me.

Lately I’ve been racking my brain trying to recall how the wags and social commentators used to complain, prior to July 20th, 1969, when US astronaut Neil Armstrong uttered,
“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
I can’t recall.
I just know that ever since then people have prefaced complaints with,
“They can put a man on the moon, but they can’t…”

I do recall back in the day that people used to say that things were, “the greatest thing since sliced bread”. I’m old, but not old enough to recall a time when bread didn’t come sliced.
Perhaps years ago the complaint may have been made that,
“They can mass-produce uniformly sliced bread but they can’t…”
Maybe, but most likely not.

At times I wonder whether anyone at NASA, having heard so many complaints qualified with their incredible lunar achievement over the years, ever felt frustrated that their efforts seem to be trivialized. 

I hope not.
 

In spurring the US efforts in the space race, President John F. Kennedy, on May 25th, 1961, asked congress for additional funds for NASA saying that,
“...this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before the decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth.”

On September 12th, 1962, in a speech at Rice University JFK added,
“We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one we intend to win, and the others, too.”

Almost 50 years to the day after astronauts Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landed on the moon with an audience of millions, including one short, fat kid, in Bloomington Minnesota, that very kid, now a grampa, has a challenge to issue to the powers that be, or, the “THEY” that sent a man to the moon.

Technology developed by NASA for the space missions has brought us many items that we use each and every day.

Eyeglass lenses used to be actual glass back in the day.
Those were dangerous however since they could shatter into shards that might injure the wearer.
In 1972 the US Food and Drug Administration mandated that the lenses for all glasses and sunglasses needed to be shatter-resistance.

That meant plastic, but plastic is prone to scratching.

NASA scientist Tom Wydeven, working out of the Ames Research Center, developed the thin, scratch-resistant coating for space helmet visors that now protects most of the eyeglasses sold in the United States today.

Space capsules have limited stores of water that can be transported to and from outer space.
NASA engineers, in conjunction with an Oregon company, Umpqua Research, developed cartridges that use iodine to clean water during the space missions. This technology has, since the 1970’s, become an increasingly popular method employed by municipalities to purify the tap water we all drink on a daily basis.

I just recently heard of medical technology that NASA developed at the Goddard Space Flight Center that has made a friend’s life easier. Her husband is diabetic. In the past he had to prick his finger twice a day to check his blood sugar level and to adjust his diet and meds accordingly.

My friend went about her day with the fear, even though the possibility was remote, that her husband could have had a diabetic reaction, lost consciousness, and been unable to correct the situation.
His newly implanted, NASA developed, insulin pump monitors his vital signs and blood sugar levels and automatically releases insulin as needed.

Further, the pump notifies him, via his cell phone, in case his blood levels spike in either direction, his vitals show irregularities, or if the pump malfunctions.
The added bonus is that the notifications are sent to his wife as well.
My friend relates that the peace of mind that technology provides is priceless to her.

Back in the day mood rings became a popular item.
They contained quartz stones bonded with liquid crystals, set in rings that purported to identify the mood of its wearer with changes in color. In reality variations in temperature were the only thing reflected with a mood ring. They became the precursor for those thermometers parents can use by placing them on their child’s forehead.

A lot of us now where an awful lot of technology on our wrists these days. Fitbits, Apple watches, and Garmins provide us a lot of information, entertainment, and even encouragement.
Noted author David Sedaris tells the tale of how the Fitbit he purchased with a goal of 10,000 steps a day, combined with his obsessive personality, now has him regularly logging 60,000 steps a day. If 10,000 is good, isn’t 20,000 better? And 30,000 even better yet? Etc. etc.

My challenge to the scientists at NASA?

They can put a man on the moon, but 50 years later they can’t come up with a Fitbit for mental health? Sure I’m issuing a tough challenge, but didn’t JFK say that we do the hard things?

The National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) estimates that;

●     1 in 5 (46.6 million) adults in the US experience a mental health condition in a given year.

●     1 in 25 (11.2 million) adults in the US experience a serious mental illness in a given year.

●     Up to 90% of those who die by suicide have an underlying mental illness as revealed by psychological autopsy. 46% of those who die by suicide have a diagnosed mental illness.

●     Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the US. With effective care, suicidal thoughts are treatable, and suicide is preventable.

www.nami.org/Get-Involved/Awareness-Events/Awareness-Messaging

Mental illness has long held a stigma in our society so it rarely is openly discussed.
Oftentimes people struggle in silence despite the fact that help is available.

The science is wa-a-ay above my head, but I’d like to see work dedicated to developing a device, be it a ring, a watch, a cell phone app, or even an implantable device, that would deliver the promised feedback of a mood ring, the social acceptance of a Fitbit, and the diagnostic ability and communication function of an insulin pump.

Who among us wouldn’t welcome a tweet or text informing us that a friend or family is lonely or hurting?
All too often we don’t find out until it is too late.
I’d like to find out earlier so I could offer help.

They say that the Information Age (where info was the point) is ending. We are now entering the Experience Age, whereby pictures and mobile technology make the stories we tell more vivid.
We are entering a “Show, don’t tell” era.
techcrunch.com/2016/05/09/the-information-age-is-over-welcome-to-the-experience-age/

Information is still important. It always will be. Sharing the MOST IMPORTANT INFORMATION with others who care, and will help, is where we are lacking.

If we can put a man on the moon why can’t we make things more bearable for ALL mankind on earth?

Surrounded By Friends And Family

At a recent gathering with friends I heard the unfortunate news that a longtime mutual friend had recently passed away.
Nobody had many details. All that was known was that a friend, younger than us, was gone.

In time, I went online to find his obituary published in a suburban Boston newspaper.
He left behind three children and an ex-wife.
He is survived by both of his parents, his two brothers and his only sister.

The notice mentioned that he, “died unexpectedly in his home”.
There was no mention of being, “surrounded by family and friends”.
I always look for that in the announcement when someone passes away.

Being surrounded by loved ones is, in my view, a great way to live, and just seems, particularly at the time of last departure, like the way, if given a choice, that I’d like to go.

At that same gathering of friends where I heard of our friend passing away we discussed our high school and college days.

One friend mentioned all the hard work he put in during his high school years.
We graduated together and I mentioned to him that I always thought high school was a breeze and that I didn’t recall studying at all. I seemed to remember it more as a ‘just having to show up to pass’ kind of thing.

Afterwards I felt bad about contradicting him, and perhaps appearing to belittle his efforts.
It bugged me a bit, but I didn’t have time to address it with him before we headed out of town to visit our granddaughters.

When in Boston we were excited to see the progress the 5 year-old is making towards learning to read. Her moms have made it fun by using letters on tag-board that fit in a pocket to form words for her to read.
S “sss”
I “i”
T “tah”

S-I-T.
“Sssitah”
“Sit”

She seems to be learning quite a few words rapidly with this system.

We also noticed though that her not quite 2 year-old little sister likes to play the game too and may be learning her letters along with older sister.

We laughed at the thought of a child as young as two learning the roots of reading, but then the lightbulb flickered on over my head.

Family Social Science was a major emphasis of my studies at the UofM.
The courses I took placed very little credence in the stereotypes typically listed for birth order placing higher priority on the relationships formed within family units instead.
But I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps there may be some benefits gained by when and where one is born.

In the movie, A FEW GOOD MEN, in the courtroom scene where the prosecutor, Captain Ross (played by Kevin Bacon), in an effort to dispel the notion that Code Reds - when Marines punish members of their own unit - occur, questions witness Corporal Barnes (played by Noah Wylie). Ross asks Barnes to show him, in the Standard Operating Procedure Manual for Rifle Security Company Guantanamo Bay, where the section on Code Reds is.

Barnes says there is no section in that book on Code Reds.
That is true, Code Reds are not in the manual since they are not an official Marine activity.

Representing the defendants in the court martial trial, and attempting to show that not all things that the Marines do in Guantanamo Bay appear in their Standard Operating Procedure Manual, Lieutenant Daniel Kaffee (played by Tom Cruise) then asks Barnes to show him the part of the manual that outlines where the mess hall is.
Barnes explains that that is not in their either.
At meals times you just followed the crowd.
You just learned from the others that lived there and knew where the mess hall was.

You may have seen this logic question that NatGeo published a few years back.
Which way is this bus heading?
Left? Or right?
Researchers at NatGeo have found that very few adults can answer this question correctly and most that do get it correct admit that they only guessed the correct answer.
Yet 80% of 10 year-olds know the answer and can tell you why they answered correctly.

Kids can answer it because they are more inclined to ride buses or at least interact with them far more often as a routine part of their day.
Can you answer the question?

Perhaps you have seen this other logic question.

If not, it can be difficult to figure out.
Once you’ve been exposed to the answer though, it becomes very simple.

You need to connect the 9 dots with 4 straight lines without lifting your hand from the paper once you start until all 9 are connected.

What does any of this mean?

Well, I think it helps explain why high school was so much easier for me, the youngest child from a family of five, than it was for my friend, the oldest child in his family.
By the time I set foot in Lincoln High School I had been exposed, second-hand, to so many of the experiences that were new to many of my friends. I’d learned so many of the lessons by osmosis from my brother and three sisters that preceded me.

Plus, the added bonus of being the fifth of five was that my parents applied very little pressure by the time I came along. They’d pretty much seen and done it all with my older siblings and while I shouldn’t say they didn’t care, they definitely didn’t sweat the small stuff, so neither did I.
So, things were pretty much a breeze for me.

We gain so much from friends and family. More than many realize.
Trivial facts.
Academic knowledge.
Life lessons.
Friendships, and enduring love.

It all works out for the best as long as we stay surrounded by friends and family.

****************************

In North America 80% of children will correctly tell you that the bus is travelling to the left since there is no door visible from the side we are viewing. The door to enter the bus is on the back side away from our view and would be on the left which is the front of the bus.

In Australia, where the driver sits on the other side of the bus so the door is on the opposite side, most children will tell you correctly that the bus is heading to the right.

Here is the solution to the other puzzle.

  

Godspeed Jeff Svendsen! You are missed, and I'm honored to have called you my friend.

AT LONG LAST SIR...

One of the more famous lines of American political rhetoric was uttered back in 1954.
The United States was in the middle of the Red Scare at the time and Senator Joseph McCarthy
was making a name for himself claiming, with little if any proof, that he had the names of
“hundreds of communists” that had infiltrated the US Government.

McCarthy, a Senator from Wisconsin, was gaining political traction with some American citizens.
The US Senate held the Army-McCarthy hearings to investigate McCarthy’s claims.

Joseph Welch, the chief counsel for the Army for the hearings quickly became
exasperated at Senator McCarthy’s unrelenting attacks upon the character of Fred Fischer, a
young associate lawyer at Welch’s Boston law firm, Hale and Doerr.

Fischer was not even involved in the hearings, but had, at one time, been a member of the
National Lawyers Guild, which McCarthy believed to be a Communist organization.
McCarthy attempted to besmirch the reputation and ruin the career of Mr. Fischer anyway just to
score points against Mr. Welch.

McCarthy’s attack on Fred Fischer was excessive and uncalled for.
In response to his spurious accusations Mr. Welch, on June 5th, 1954, finally stated,

“Until this moment, Senator, I think I never really gauged your cruelty or your recklessness.
Have you no sense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?”

Many who have examined public affairs feel THAT was the point at which the McCarthy
hearings, and the Red Scare, took a crucial turn. The hearings petered out in a week. That
December McCarthy was condemned by the US Senate. He became an alcoholic and died in
1957 at age 48.

His legacy, the term ‘McCarthyism’, is understood to mean making reckless and
unsubstantiated accusations and/or leveling audacious attacks on a person’s character.
Hardly the way one would want to be remembered, nor the actions most would like their name
attached to.

In 1954, when Mr. Welch posed that important question to Senator McCarthy in Washington
DC, half a world away, in Southeast Asia, the newly independent country of Laos was
enmeshed in a civil war that would rage on for 22 years (1953 to 1975).

On August 18th of 1956, a kid named Joe was born in Philadelphia Pennsylvania. He grew to
become a very skilled athlete playing both basketball and football in college and later playing in
the National Football League despite the fact that he was raised, from age 11, in an orphanage
after his father died when Joe was only 9 years old.

Near the end of the war in Laos, 1973 to be exact, a boy named Anousone was born in a
Laotian village. He too was separated from his family of origin, but was raised by his extended
family. His grandfather taught him how to cook. In time, Anousone reunited with his family in
Minnesota. Like many people from war-torn areas of the world the United States represented
their best chance at a better life.

In 1980 Joe began his professional football career. Near the end of that season a kid named
Phillip was born in Duluth, Minnesota. Phillip would go on to become a football player too, but
he’d gain more acclaim coaching rather than playing the sport.

Joe Senser was an all-pro tight end for the Minnesota Vikings. He is also part owner of the
popular Joe Senser’s Kitchen Bar sports bars. The Roseville restaurant often hosts radio shows
that feature coaches from the University of Minnesota like the fellow named Phillip John (PJ)
Fleck. Anousone Phanthavong was the unfortunate victim that Joe Senser’s second wife Amy
struck and killed as he re-filled his car’s gas tank on a freeway exit ramp.

I mention these people, and their sad tale, to tell you another rather sad story.

I first became aware of Amy Senser when a worker at the Hopkins Public Library pointed her
out to me one evening. The worker knew that I used to work with the UofM’s football team for
some time and thought I’d be interested to know that the quiet, pleasant lady in the corner was
married to the famous ex-Viking Joe Senser. I hate to intrude on people, and fame doesn’t really
impress me all that much so I didn’t introduce myself preferring to let Amy have her privacy.

The next time I saw Amy Senser, in October of 2014, was on a city bus heading from Hopkins
(where I board) through Edina, the upscale suburb (where Amy boarded) to the Hennepin
County Government Center where I catch the light rail train to the UofM. On that day Amy
departed the bus at the same stop as me, but she walked to the Government Center. She had
completed her prison time from her conviction for killing Anousone Phanthavong and I assumed
there was legal paperwork and governmental administrative hurdles for her to clear so she
could move on with her life.

I get that the crime she was convicted of was terrible, and that the loss to the Phanthavong
family is horrible. It’s a tragic tale. But our system of jurisprudence is designed to dispense
justice.
She was convicted, sentenced, and did her time.
According to the laws presently in place justice has been served.

Seeing Amy on that bus, fidgeting, shifting in her seat, looking miserable and not being able to
relax at all, I began to wish that I had introduced myself to her years earlier in the library if only
so that I could reintroduce myself that morning on our commute and hopefully appear as a
calming force for her. That bothered me for a while since I truly believe that we’re all in this thing
together and that where we can we owe it to our fellow man (or woman) to lighten their load as
much as possible.

Time moved on however, and so did I. Since Amy was out of my sight she was pretty much out of my mind after that day.

Fast forward to April 2019. It was one of those early spring days so beautiful that you can’t resist
getting outside even if it’s just to take a walk around the neighborhood.
That’s what my wife and I did.
At one point we were amazed to see a couple of wild turkeys perched up in the trees.
We stopped to watch them for a few minutes.

As we proceeded down the path a lady approached from the other direction walking her two
dogs. She seemed to be so at peace with the world. I mentioned to her the turkeys she was
about to encounter hoping that her dogs wouldn’t spook and bolt out of her control.
She smiled, said thanks, and told us that we were in for a special treat.
She explained that as we turned the corner just behind her, but a few yards ahead of us, there
was the most beautiful sunset going on and we were about to be amazed.
She was right.

It was an amazing sunset that Amy Senser pointed out to us, but I was more amazed at the
sense of calm she exuded. She seemed to be in such a better place than the last time I saw
her.
It made me so happy.

Have you ever noticed that you can go months, even years, without thinking about a person,
place, or thing, and then they appear twice in rapid succession?

Returning home a few moments after seeing Amy Senser I checked my Facebook feed and saw
that Gopher football coach PJ Fleck would be broadcasting a radio show later that week from
Joe Senser’s restaurant as a prelude to the 2019 Spring Football Game.

Now I’m not a fan of PJ Fleck, I think his all flash with very little substance act is tiresome.
Evidently, with season ticket sales dropping faster than the watermelons David Letterman used
to throw off of the roof of the Ed Sullivan Theater, many “fans” seem to agree with me. I didn’t
renew my season tickets this year either. I try not to be overly vocal about my dislike of Fleck
though those that really know me know I long for the day that he moves along to another
coaching position elsewhere.

Evidently not everyone is able to show such restraint.

One of the comments on the Facebook post about the Spring Game radio broadcast asked,

“Fleck at Joe Senser’s? Are we all supposed to get drunk and kill a guy while driving home
afterwards?”

I had to reread it to make sure I saw what I saw.
I was stunned. And saddened.
It seemed to be an obvious, ham-handed and inappropriate, attack on Amy Senser in the guise of a shot at PJ Fleck.

The only thought that occurred to me was,
“At long last sir, have you no sense of decency?”

Now I’ve said inappropriate things before. I’ve even posted dumb things on social media.
I’ve posted stupid remarks, and I’ve posted smart remarks in a stupid way.
But the unwarranted cruelty of that comment still stuns me.

In researching the Sensers, after seeing Amy on the walking path, and reading that harsh Facebook comment, I found out that in addition to Joe being raised in an orphanage, Amy serving time in prison, Joe is now struggling to walk and is barely able to speak anymore as a result of two strokes he has suffered recently.
Additionally their 13 year old granddaughter recently committed suicide.
Amy and Joe are leaning on each other though, working together on their marriage and Joe's rehab.

To be sure, we all have successes in life, and we all suffer hardships, and karma can rear its
ugly head at times too. All I know is that the best we can do is rejoice with our loved ones, and
offer support when we’re able.

I just wish more of us would come to appreciate that, and show a lot less cruelty and much more
decency to those around us, whether we personally know them or not.

I know that’s my newest goal at long last.