Thanks, Starbucks, and 3rd Party Callers

I want to make it clear that I am not thanking Starbucks or 3rd party callers. I am thanking those of you that wrote me and/or commented through the blog regarding my post about my Dad. The words I received were very helpful, appreciated, and uplifting. I would not have been able to get through the past ten years without the love and advice you have all given to me. I have great respect for Bud and Don who have been there to answer questions and snap me in line when I needed it. I also want to mention Mr. Byrd who passed away last year. He uttered something to me that has proven painfully true. "A son does not become the man he is to become until he loses his father." May not be the case for all of us, but it was for me.

Now on to the rant portion of this blog. Starbucks, Starbucks, Starbucks. For those of you not clear on the situation in the coffee wars, Dunkin Donuts is the undisputed leader! They actually have coffee flavored coffee (thanks Denis Leary), and they get it to you in about 30 seconds after you order it. Friday morning Emilee and I were carpooling to work. Don't get any ideas about being green conscious, unless its cash, we just "enjoy" each other's company in the mornings. She just had to have a Pumpkin Pie Vanilla Cream Toffee half cap latte with 2% milk and cream frothed to perfection on top. Oh, and it had to be decaf.

DECAF! I forgive it because she is pregnant with my child, but what an affront to all that is holy. Decaf was invented by someone who could not handle the shaking, eyes bulging, ecstatic rush that comes after polishing off that first 6 cups. What a scam! Anyway, we watch the truly superior of our race, they must be special because they need a vehicle that could challenge Bigfoot at the tractor pull, pass the same cup of "coffee" back and forth 17 times. Must have been a whip cream malfunction or something. Anyway 10 minutes later we have moved to the window and I can see the thing Emilee has ordered in the window. I get ignored by the barista/coffee hooker for FIVE MINUTES! This is not an exaggeration either. Fifteen minutes for one cup of "coffee". Fifteen (expletive) MINUTES! SO now I am going to be late to work over colored hot water. Good Bless Dunkin Donuts.

So later Friday, 1828 hrs to be precise (shift ends at 1830), Justin and I are sneaking towards Ga 400 so we can get the hell out of Dodge (Sandy Springs for the uninitiated) when we get dispatched to a call. The call is at 285 & Glenridge Dr. or Riverside Dr. We don't know which direction and the dispatcher is unable to give us an update at this time. SO, we get on 285 East at Glenridge and drive the 8.4 miles in 19 minutes that brings us down to Riverside and then back West on 285 to Glenridge again. Guess what? No (expletive) patient matching the description we received. You want to know why? Because some ignorant (expletive) do gooder calls on their cell phone as they are driving by.

That would be great if this person ACTUALLY knew which way they drove home on 285 EVERY (EXPLETIVE) DAY! How do you not know which way you are going. There are signs every 200 feet and could you not figure out that to get from Marietta (job) to Duluth (home) you go (EXPLETIVE) EAST!?!?!?!?!?!?! The lesson here? If you don't know where the (expletive) you are then you need to tele-commute. And get off the (EXPLETIVE) CELL PHONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stay Safe,

Rob

Opening The Vault

I have to give another disclaimer. If me writing about my Dad in anyway upsets you or offends you then stop here! This blog is in celebration and condemnation of the man who should have turned 66 on Thursday. If you feel like I have overstepped myself and this blog space after reading it I am sorry. But I have found that as I write these entries, I have unleashed many things that I have kept locked away deep in my brain. I need to get them out. I need to speak freely. Unfortunately I do not always allow myself to do that in person with my friends. This happens to be one of those topics I feel that way about.

Something about paper, or cyberspace anyway, makes it easier to express certain things. I get into story telling or apologetics when I start to talk to friends and family about Buzz. Buzz was my Dad. More than a couple of you that read my blogs knew him. Not always the most talkative, he had a way of turning the most benign situations into sarcastic fantasy. I am as sarcastic as I am because of him (and my Uncle Butch), and I am grateful for it. I mean sometimes people just need to be made to feel stupid, and who better to make them feel that way than me? I thank my dad's spirit often for that gift.

I also have the love of sports and the friendly wager from him. Some of you know about my past demons in that regard, but I did not get that from him. What I did get from him was never welch on a bet, even if it costs you a year of doing dishes, and never bet on the dog that does his business right before the race. I inherited the hell of being a Browns fan from him, and with only fleeting moments of glory an Ohio State fan. I learned how to play poker and craps from him. I only wish he had taught me how to set up a Nassau at a golf outing.

I also wish he had taught me what he knew about building and plumbing. He was so afraid that I would end up as a blue collar guy like himself that he would never teach me how to do anything. I would ask how something worked, and he would answer "you don't need to know how to do that because you're going to college." Or "you're going to use your brains, not your hands." My least favorite of the answers had to do with "I was better than he was and I was going to be the first one in the family to make something of themselves." Why didn't he think he had done something with himself?

Another important thing he taught me was how to win and lose as a man. No one is happy when they lose. It could be at trivial pursuit, not making the highest grade on a test, or the championship game. Competition is a good thing, and he instilled that quality in me. He also taught me to win with class. There have been times I have failed, especially on some of the golf outings I have had with Matt, but I try to win and lose gracefully. I may feel at this if the Browns ever win the Super Bowl.

But the most important thing I learned from him I learned from his death. I learned that it is unforgivable to give up. I learned that selfishness and selflessness can get confused. I learned that trying to be the strong silent type can lead you to places you don't need to go. In thinking that he had THE answer to all of his and mom's financial problems he only solved one of them. The only problem he solved was him worrying about his problems. He caused so many more. He missed out on so much more. He dropped the ball on his family. We all have to figure out how to move forward, even 11 years later. We are left to figure what could have/should have been.

I want to be as good of a father as he was for the first 27 years of my life. I know that I will make mistakes; I just wish he was around to help me get through them. I am very grateful to the help and support I have received from my "other dad's" over the years, but I wish Buzz was still here to ask Chuck if he "belonged here", or ask us why we needed a gun, or to laugh at me when I realized how screwed I am having a daughter. I miss him very much. I still feel like he abandoned us. But after all of the pain and loss, I still love him very much.


Stay Safe,

Rob

My 20 Year Reunion

We all have those moments in life where we wonder what happened to the people in our past. What happened to the pretty girls of your high school days? Where did that friend that just vanished go? Which people have the years been kind to? Will anyone remember me? Well I got some of those answers Saturday night. I even found myself surprised and disappointed when I looked back at the whole affair.

The disappointments were minor, but I really was hoping to see a couple if people that did not show. I have always wondered what happened to my buddy Mark, and no one knows. It's like he just vaporized. I really wanted to see Sean Marr. A very funny guy and always a crowd pleaser. And then there was the disappointment that comes from seeing people only once in a great while. You realize that life is screaming by at an ever increasing tempo.

The good news is that there was WAY more satisfaction than disappointment. My buddy Eric came down from Michigan and we had a great time. He just needs to lose the anchor and he will be alright. I got to spend a bunch of time with my best friend from those days. Chuck looks great, has an amazing wife, a happy family, and is a successful business man. It was a great opportunity to get reconnected and renew our friendship. I hope we don't fail in our efforts to become great friends again.

The pretty girls are mostly still pretty. The partiers still got hammered and went to town on the dance floor. The guys who thought they were better and cooler than everyone else still think that way. Some of us got bigger. Some balder. Some look exactly the same. And some looked better. Everyone seemed to have a good time and I think we all looked a lot better than we thought we were going too.

But a 20 year reunion is not all about seeing people. At least it was not that way for me. It is one of those lifetime benchmarks that make you look back over your life and evaluate where you are. It made me think about my life and am I where and who I wanted to be when I graduated high school. The results are varied. I thought I would have kids getting into high school by now not awaiting my first. I thought I would be in the medical field; I am. I thought I would be successful; I think I am. I thought I would be happily married; I definitely am. I thought I would feel and look old! Here is where I think I am doing way better than I figured I would be. And I thought I would be living a full life; I have.

I have not followed the path I thought I would follow to get to this point in my life, but who really does. I have made good and bad decisions that got to me to this point. If I had taken a different path I know I would not be as happy as I am right now. A few of you have known me for a long time. Only a couple of you realize how miserable and gloomy my outlook was for a long time. But those down times led to where I am now. Everything can work out. You just have to attack life and not be passive. Give yourself options and then you are able to make decisions, not have life dictated to you.

All of this looking back and seeing what you planned and how it actually turns out reminds me of one of my Dad's favorite lines. If I he could read this he would look at me and say; "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans".

Stay Safe,

Rob

What It Means To Be A Citizen Of The United Sates Of America

"What It Means To Be A Citizen Of The United States of America"

I saw it on a poster board as I walked into the school; a simple advertisement for an essay contest that the general education department is holding. An essay that should be easy to write. I knew I would not be eligible for the prizes because I teach, but I thought it would be a good exercise for my brain and hopefully renew my appreciation for the blessings I have been given. I knew exactly what I was going to write about. I love American history and I love to debate about what it is to be an American. I enjoy talking about how we are the best in the world. But then I sat down to write it and I drew a blank.

September 17, 1787 could arguably be the most important date in US history. Yes, I know we all get taught that that date is April 23, 1971 (My Birthday). Or some of you might believe that it is July 4, 1776 (Signing of the Declaration of Independence). Some could even argue that April 9, 1865 (Appomattox) was the most important. I have been forced to think about all of this because I used to think that it was July 4th. But after further review...the call on the field is being overruled.

On September 17, 1787 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 39 men signed the US Constitution. Without that day and that document, we would be a much different nation and probably many different nations. These men put the interests of the infant nation above their own interests and used much forethought to build a document that would be relevant for many years. While some may argue that it is antiquated today, I do not think many can argue its effectiveness in getting us to this point in history. And that point is the most; free, generous, powerful, respected, hated, and open society and country in history. Without the constitution we may have been a repeat of the rise and decline of Europe in the 19th and 20th centuries.

As a natural born US Citizen I can promise you one thing. I take my citizenship for granted. I did not have to work for it and I do not have to worry about losing it. I only have to worry about bitching about what Obama or any other elected official does to try to take my freedoms away. Who can I blame for all of this; myself and the rest of you that take your citizen status for granted. I vote and I try to stay informed, but I should want to do more. So I looked at what it takes to be a "made" citizen.

OK, I'll admit I did not read the whole thing. YET! It's 58 pages long and not very exciting, and the lack of pictures make it hard for me to understand. It has charts and lists of things you have to do. It even has a chart for things that can potentially get you disqualified, such as;

1. Illegal Gambling - Strike One
2. Use of any Illegal Controlled Substance - Strike Two
3. Oath of Citizenship - I never had to do this - Strike three?

So I might get to just scrape by. Here is the oath:

I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.

I would be willing to follow all of the provisions. Would all of you?

So what does it mean to me to be a citizen of the United States of America? It means freedom to do what I want to do in politics, religion, education, and employment. It means living in a nation that has many flaws but many more benefits. It means getting to gripe about the things I do not agree with. But most importantly, and I am now swearing a vow to my unborn child to do so, it means having a responsibility to pay attention to what the government is doing and knowing my rights so I can protect myself and my constitution should the need arise.

Stay Safe,

Rob

Confessions Of An Ambulance Driver I

***ALERT*** ***ALERT*** ***ALERT***

This is not a baby blog; it is a rant about my profession. If you want an unbiased and probably controversial (to some anyway) look at what it is I do, then keep reading.

For those of you that are not aware of what I do, I am a Paramedic. The first thing that people think about when they here that term is "Ambulance Driver". Some in my profession take offense to that term; I do not. It is technically a true term and is what I do for a portion of my day. I take pride in the fact that I can drive, run the siren, read a map, make a left hand turn from the right hand lane, and scream at idiot drivers all at the same time. I like backing up traffic on the interstate for 6 miles because someone is having 10/10 neck pain from a motor vehicle crash (MVC) and there is ZERO damage to the car.

There are other things I love about my job. I like that when I get to the scene of an emergency I am generally in charge. I love delivering babies and holding little old ladies hands when they are sick or hurt. I love listening to the 80'ish year old men tell me stories about their tours in World War II. We had one last week who told Justin that he had been at Bastogne during the Battle of the Bulge. Justin asked him what he remembered about it; "it was too cold to dig" was his answer. We get to help people when really scary, awful, unspeakable things have happened to them. We get to play the angel.

I have seen things that you only see in the movies. In March of 2006 I walked in to a scene that looked like it had been created for a horror movie. Four brutally murdered and two that survived but should have died. If it had not been for the first crews on scene, those two would have been dead as well. The scene itself was surreal, but everyone handled themselves professionally. The company I work for even had a person quit over what they had seen. It was his first month on the job. I hope I never see worse.

But I have seen crazier! People who pepper sprayed themselves because one of their voices told them to do so. One guy who had us take him into Grady because he wanted a DNA test to prove that his penis was his own! He thought the aliens had switched it out. People who were conscious and able to wrestle with the cops with a blood alcohol level of over 400! The 0.10 you hear about blowing for a DUI equals a 100 blood alcohol level. These people are absolute drinking pros.

What I hate is the attitude that we get dished out to us every day. People who tell us that they understand they don't need an ambulance and could easily take a cab except for one thing; they have to PAY for the cab. I have heard that more than once too. I hear people bitch and moan about aches and pains that in no way exist. I know this because they don't have any pain until I start asking questions. I have had people tell me they were suffering from neck pain after an MARTA bus got rear ended. When I probed deeper I found out that the "patient" had been on the sidewalk and WITNESSED the accident! He said the stress of the episode made him hurt.

We deal with drivers who do not understand what to do when an emergency vehicle approaches them. First, get off the cell phone. Second, put down the newspaper, book, sandwich, make-up, or whatever you have to occupy yourself while you are driving. Third, if you have already moved to your left and I am going by you, don't decide to move across my line because you think you remember the "move right" rule. Fourth, don't just jam on the brakes. Fifth, if the siren is in the wrong language move back home.

We deal with other EMS providers that hate EMS. I am talking about the Fire Department. Now I am lucky, I work in a city (Sandy Springs) that takes pride in the EMS care its FD provides and the medical directors and Fire Chiefs do not tolerate slack behavior. However, I have worked with too many that have the attitude that "We put the wet stuff in the hot stuff, not carry the sick around." It gets very irritating. I have to deal with questions like; "Do you guys need us, they dispatched a dumpster fire down the street?" I was actually doing chest compressions when that question was asked! And those of you that know me well know that I hate being questioned when I feel I am right, especially by those who don't want to be there in the first place.

My last gripe here is going to be about a certain ilk of emergency room nurse. Fortunately none of the crew that reads this blog fits into that RN category. I know you are overworked and you get the biggest cry babies parked in your zone for your entire shift. I know that we (EMS) only have to deal with these people, especially the regulars, for a much shorter period of time than you do. I know that you think we drive around yelling over the PA encouraging people to come into your ER, and that's why that patient is now yelling your name because they don't think they are getting taken care of fast enough. But, I promise you I don't. We take people to specific hospitals because they either want to go there or they need your specialty. So when you ask "Why did you bring him here, Northside is across the street." Don't be pissed at me because the answer is simply that he fell down in YOUR ambulance bay!

To those of you I work with and laugh with; thank you for making my job an enjoyable one. To those of you that smoke, drive recklessly, and do generally retarded things; thank you for my job security. To those of you that listen to me bitch & moan; thank you for helping me keep my sanity. And to the woman that pepper sprayed herself in the face; thanks for helping me meet Emilee.


Stay Safe,

Rob

We Have Now Grown An Avocado

Hello All. I hope you all enjoyed my first special edition blog. This Thursday the fetus turns 16 weeks. It seems to have taken forever and flown by at the same time. I am pretty sure the same kind of feeling that many of you that are parents have felt about your walking/talking variety of child. We are a mere 24 weeks away from full term lift off, and Emilee is beginning to show. We should be able to feel some movement here soon. For those of you who like the "science" here's where we are courtesy of BabyCenter.com:

Get ready for a growth spurt. In the next few weeks, your baby will double his weight and add inches to his length. Right now, he's about the size of an avocado: 4 1/2 inches long (head to rump) and 3 1/2 ounces. His legs are much more developed, his head is more erect than it has been, and his eyes have moved closer to the front of his head. His ears are close to their final position, too. The patterning of his scalp has begun, though his locks aren't recognizable yet. He's even started growing toenails. And there's a lot happening inside as well. For example, his heart is now pumping about 25 quarts of blood each day, and this amount will continue to increase as your baby continues to develop.

I also want to thank those of you who have expressed your happiness and condolences for us having a little girl! I know that any child is a challenge, but I think that a girl will provide a special bit of frustration. I hope to raise her to be respectful and fearful of her father. lol

I guess what is really going through my mind though is how expensive things are about to get. We have had an outpouring of generosity in the form of clothes, furniture, toys, and most of all advice. We appreciate all of this more than anyone can appreciate. But do you want to know what scares me the most right now? Diapers.

Emilee has been doing research on everything baby related. She knows the highest rated brand for just about everything, even butt paste (we understand that's Boudreaux’s). So we, in the royal we style, have decided that Pampers Sensitive something or other is the best for little Shequisha. These things are roughly $35 for a pack of 124. I have been told we will go through 15-20 diapers per day initially. Lets be conservative 30 days at 15 diapers per day equals 450 diapers per month! Or in Rob terms; $170 per month! And that is just to keep baby dry.

So as Emilee is telling me all of this and I am figuring out where to get my 3rd job; I had a brainstorm. Feed the tuna mayonnaise. Sorry different brainstorm. What if I cut leg holes into a bucket and wrap the legs in saran wrap so there is no chance of a rash. Wipe the "this guy is a moron" looks off of your face and follow the logic. All you would have to do is empty the bucket a few times a day. I figure I can pull the whole thing off for about $5.00. If any of you have tried this I am willing to accept construction ideas.

We also have the nursery set up to contend with. Emilee is certain that we will never be able to have a nursery that she will be happy with because of the townhouse. I know it's smaller than she wants, but seriously. How many people are born into the 23 bedroom mansion? I know I wasn't. And I am pretty sure that 85% of the world's population pulls it off in houses smaller than my living room. So any ideas on proper furniture spacing are appreciated as well. I am thinking of a bunk type bed in the bathtub with a shelving unit as the changing table.

So that us where we stand right now. Tune in later this week for; "We paid how much for an above ground ultrasound we did not need?"


Stay Safe,

Rob

Special Editon #1 - Lynn's 10 Step Program

I have many ideas that float through this head of mine and some of them are even constructive. I even once gave some good advice so I have been told. But I have never been creative enough to come up with something this good! I know many of you read the blog itself, but I do not know how many of you actually read the comments. Sometimes the best part of the blog is the comments ya'll leave. I contacted Lynn about posting her comment as a separate blog and she was cool with it. So here it goes; Thanks Lynn.

Rob--here you go. As the mother of two girls, this hangs on my refrigerator. Good luck to you both--you're in my prayers. Love, Lynn

Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose his compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."

Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

Stay Safe,

Rob