NaNoWriMo and Me

Today is the beginning of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month – www.nanowrimo.org ). Starting at 12:01am this morning, participants have one month to write 50,000 words of their novels. The prize is the accomplishment. The non-profit’s site includes a lot of support, a global and smaller regional community, and a whole bunch of forums to aid with the inevitable procrastination process.

As of 9:48am (I successfully put it off for almost 10 hours), I am an official participant in the annual frenzy. I pushed the button because I’ve tried but can’t come up with any more excuses. All the stars are aligned and I am surrounded.

  • I have no freelance work due in November.
  • I’m on an easy project at work (meaning it doesn’t require any extra hours and actually allows for some daily drifting).
  • I also know that this project lasts at least through December, so I feel no pressure to market in November.
  • I now firmly believe that one more cubicle will kill me.
  • My new furniture fiascos are over and my son is in charge of painting the living room. My remaining chores don’t add up to one complete excuse.
  • I have the idea, the title, the characters, and the plot in my head screaming to escape. I need to put us all out of our misery.
  • All the people I know are pretty busy with their daily lives and thoughts of and pre-plans for the upcoming holidays. It’s just perfect timing.
  • I got an email from God and Writer’s Digest last night reminding me of the event.

The email wasn’t snippy, but I sensed that He was drilling his fingers, tapping his toes, rolling his eyes, clearing his throat, and essentially saying:

“Uhhh, Karen Dear? (He still loves me after all.) What would you have Me do? Move the pencil in your hand? Force your fingers to hit the right keys? I have cleared your schedule, provided you with the means to pay your bills, sent you a fire-lighting-to-ass email reminder, and aligned a support system. Geez. I think Judge Judy will be fine if you miss her today. Do you really want me to take your cable away, too?”

“Ok, God, I get it. Thank you. I know, I know. Thank you. I am writing. Thank you. I am. Thank you.”

It’s recommended that I put an icon on my website to communicate that “1) I am a serious writer now, and, 2) As a serious writer, I will not have time for household chores until December.”

nano_06_icon_120x240.gif

 

So here it is. Scary looking, isn't it?

Now what do I do? Oh, right. Write.

Now? But....I'm hungry and must go get lunch.

I think I hear white noise.

 

 

A Quick and Insufficient Thank You

The older I get, the more grateful I become - for lots of things, but mostly for the people I've known. I want to let them know that they’ve altered my life by something they’ve done or maybe just said. I know how differently things could have turned out without them.

The list, in random order, grows each year and, for that, I’m also grateful. I'll never be able to return all the kindnesses. I can just say "thank you" and hope they know how much they have meant.

Miss Hazel - For being my new mom and giving me insight and perspective

Bryan R - For Austin R

Austin R - For my life

Tami - For helping me through my divorce with my father and my move to Indianapolis

Sheila - For always knowing just when to touch base and for my transition to a new life in Indianapolis

Deb - For being a constant and remembering and laughing at pains of the past

Brad B - For the simple “just let it go”

Mike H - For being my lifesaver and becoming my friend

Mike S - For the $80

Ruth N - For the call the day before I discovered my contract was ending

Darbies - For the inspiration

Cynthia M - For the practical and supportive words

Janet B - For encouraging me through the time when I thought everything was my fault

Mary R - For the great story

Mom - For being the one who put it all together

MawMaw - For being my family

Deb F - For being there and not judging

Patty R - For the good times and the introduction to JN

UbF - For calling me "dear", for crossing the street, for rolling down the windows, and for sending flowers

Bryan F - For the card

Jeff M - For the friendship, encouragement and the challenges

Hal G - For the jobs and the nice words

Ping P - For new directions and chances

Pamela A - For the distraction during the transition to Memphis

Melinda - For my 40th birthday

Ms. Newton - For being the best thing about Mississippi….and for the salsa

Linda R - For keeping us for 3 months

Joan W - For letting me move in

Joyce M - For the light

Mr. Barry Mitchell and Ms. Natasha Brewer -

Life Lists

I love the Ellen Degeneres show. This year, she has added a new theme. People are supposed to develop "life lists" of things they'd love to do in their lifetimes. I've fallen for it and here's mine. Or at least this is the one I have today. It may change tomorrow.

Karen’s Life List

1. See Tom Jones with my son (he loves him too) before he won’t want to go anywhere with me (saw Tom, but missed the window on the son going)
2. Move to Maine or New Hampshire and live in a little cottage for the rest of my days, after getting my son’s college paid
3. Finish one of my books/ideas and try to see if it’s worthy of being published
4. Put my son through college in one year (not quite a year, but I done good)
5. Have enough money to spend a year recording stories of people in a nursing home, keeping them company and publishing their stories
6. Go on a missionary trip
7. Take a trip on the Oslo-Bergen railway
8. Visit Prague
9. Spend a month writing in Florence, Italy
10. Forgive people/stop judging people so quickly
11. Finish blanket I started for my son when he was a baby
12. Sell my house in Mississippi
13. Make a new friend
14. Fall in love
15. Write a short little book of gratitude for the people I have known
16. Stop watching so much television (getting there)
17. Stop being scared of people and life
18. See Vancouver
19. See Alaska
20. Find a church or philosophy that suits me
21. Get a Master’s in English so I can teach (maybe)
22. Drive the Pacific Coast Highway
23. Have an article published in a magazine
24. Invest in a silent retreat in the winter
25. Learn Italian
26. Take an algebra class because I loved it in school
27. Raise some money for a good cause where 100% of the funds go to the cause
28. Get involved in campaign funding reform (www.just6dollars.org)
29. Do or say something kind every day
30. Learn about a different religion or two
31. Spend Christmas in Lake Louise or Quebec City
32. Buy a car that doesn’t use traditional gasoline
33. Help an elderly neighbor rake leaves or do a chore
34. Fly in a small plane over New England in the fall or Hawaii or both
35. Work in a bookstore or a café
36. Try a fancy recipe with a friend
37. Dine alone in public and be comfortable doing it
38. Dress up and have a romantic, fancy, leisurely, candlelit dinner with someone I love someday
39. Go back to Chicago and stay at the Palmer House or NYC and stay at The Plaza
40. Take a bubble bath
41. Lose some weight to feel a bit more healthy (work in progress, but healthy yay)
42. Buy new living room furniture
43. Changed to: Library Express volunteer sign-up and use for interviewing, collecting too
44. Go to a play by myself
45. Own and use a treadmill/elliptical
46. Smile at strangers more (ongoing)
47. Work on a screenplay or get to watch the writing process of turning a novel into a movie or play
48. Figure out what to do with myself since my 16-year-old son is all of a sudden never home
49. Help a single mom who is helping herself
50. Learn how to take great pictures

A different day

At first, I didn’t recognize it. And then, I couldn’t quite pinpoint it. I knew I had felt it before, but it must have been a long time ago, because I still can’t remember exactly when. It finally introduced itself - rather matter-of-factly, and rudely, too, giving me no indication of how long it would stay and apparently not offering me much choice.

It has materialized in paralyzing fear and sadness. And in the ability to come up with scads of excuses not to get out of bed every day. It loves naps. It loves television. It loves blank stares in the mirror.

It hates quiet, but it hates noise. It hates people, but it hates solitude. It hates plans, but it hates having nothing to do. It hates not getting anything done, but it hates doing anything. It hates time passing, but it wishes the days would go by faster.

It loves a reliable Benadryl or two in the afternoon because it forces sleep. It craves sleep. It wants to be tired. It wants a moment or an hour not to be angry or sad.

It loves the phone ringing for the first time in a week, but it hates to answer because it doesn’t know what to say. And if it says too much, it might explode…or cry. It loves to see others living and playing and having fun, but it hates the idea of interacting. It really just has no idea how to interact. It’s helpless, but I think it wants help. It seems to want to dream. It wants to escape. It wants to live, but it’s not crazy about living right now.

Now, it feels guilty. It knows it’s not this serious. It’s not cancer, for God’s sake. It’s not a tragedy. It gives itself too much credit. It’s just the result of too much time. It should find something to do. It should just shut up and carry on. It is just loneliness, after all.
----

The house is empty again. The house will be empty from now on. I want to fill it up with happy sounds. I want to fill it up with laughter. I want to fill it up with hope. I want to fill it up with good thoughts. I want to fill it up with thoughts of anything other than myself.

I never see my only child anymore. It’s been the two of us for almost all of his sixteen years. He is my only family. And because of this, he’s really been my best friend as well. Now, he’s living his life, growing up, becoming independent, all the things he should be doing. And, I’m very proud and happy for him. But, suddenly, I have no idea what to do with myself. I don’t feel comfortable doing anything. Or being around anybody. I’m in an awkward phase, I suppose.

Local friends only exist in sporadic e-mail now. And I’m less of a people person than I have ever been. I’m not good at meeting people. I’m not good at small talk. I’m not good at little get-togethers with people I know, much less people I barely know or don’t know at all. Frankly, I’ve always found most folks exasperating after about the first 15 minutes of conversation. Not that I’m thrilling or any less frustrating, I’m sure, I’m just, like I said, not a people person. And the people I do find interesting or fascinating, the ones with whom I’d like to get together, typically don’t like me at all.

My astrology and numerology predictions for October all said the same thing: this would be a period of beginnings and a preview of the following year. That’s great, just great, because all I feel are endings.

Jobs are ending. What has been home is ending. Friendships aren’t what they were. We’re all in such different places – physically and mentally. The life I’ve known for almost two decades is ending. I’m not me anymore, but I don’t know who to become. I obviously have some adjustments to make. I suppose I just put one foot in front of the other for a while, trusting that it will all work itself out. It just needs to let me take the first steps.

I know I could read a book, I could go to the used bookstore, I could go look around at the mall, I could go to the library, I could go for a walk, I could rake the leaves, I could shop for a new sofa that I desperately need, I could go pay $4 for a chai tea, I could take a vitamin, I could pray. Better yet, I could volunteer somewhere, contribute, give back, think of others.

I could do any of these things, if only I could muster five minutes of not feeling sorry for myself. Then, maybe I could distract it long enough to give me time to leave the house.

We had scheduled a trip next week to go to DC for Fall break, but, when my son said he had to work that Saturday and didn’t really want to go, I felt relieved. It sounded like a lot of work, a lot of trouble, a lot of activity, a lot of involvement with people. Actually, I think I was scared to go. I was scared of making the plans, boarding the dog, spending the money, driving an older car, the scheduling and arranging, the parking, the hotel noise, all the things that could go wrong or just be a hassle.

And the holidays are coming. They will be decorating and shopping and showing commercials of happy, warm people, giving tips on how to plan a perfect Thanksgiving and Christmas. They will talk of home and friends and family and joy and peace and love. I will be alone watching old movies with the dog. I have enjoyed the last few years alone, but that was because I wasn’t alone all year. I’m a little scared - worried that it will still be here.

Things are just changing and I have to change. I need to try new things. I tell it every night that tomorrow I will leave the house. So far, it hasn’t let me, but I hope it will soon.

There is a Happy Ending

As I sit here at my new farmhouse-fashioned office desk by an open window, I can hear the little boy across the street screaming at the top of his lungs, “TREATS FOR CHARITY! 25 CENTS EACH!” And I just realized that I never finished my house-hunting saga with the happy ending that came to be.

After almost four years in the apartment, we have moved into our house now. I suppose, for most, it’s a relatively small thing that normally would be taken for granted, but I will never forget the synchronicity of the experience and the people God put in place who made it all happen.

My son came home from Japan on June 30th. I told him about the fiasco with the crazy lady, so we checked the Sunday newspaper for more rental ads. We drove by a few that listed addresses and found one that he and I both really liked. It took five days of phone tag with the owners to finally connect, but once we did, it felt guided by a higher power. We got along perfectly and learned that we had a lot in common. There was quite a bit of competition for the house, though, because it’s in an extremely desirable area of Indianapolis and was really reasonably priced. I was nervous all weekend wondering who they'd choose. A house like this is so rare and I knew it. Plus, the thought of more crazies and more days and nights with pool-boy were making me have odd thoughts involving hexes and voodoo dolls and such.

Needless to say, the call came and everything went perfectly. I turned in the required 30-day notice to the apartments, paid all the necessary fees and deposits, scheduled movers, and lost my job. BUT before my agency even notified me that this contract was ending, I had received a call about, interviewed for, and accepted a new opportunity two days before that would start at the end of the month. See? Synchronicity? Higher power!

My son plays his electric guitar at night. He turns up his stereo when he’s in the shower. He has friends over. He washes his truck in the driveway. He likes to get the mail and take the trash to the street. He likes to do stuff in the garage. And the dog. The dog’s never been happier. The house has a long hall perfect for throwing the squeaky ball. She sits outside in the yard for hours and falls asleep in the sun.

I read the newspaper every Sunday morning in my rocker on the screened-in porch. I sleep better and dream more than I ever remember. I decorated the door for Halloween for the first time in five years. I take the trash out in my pajamas. I only walk the dog if I want to.

I can hear the bells ring from the Indiana School for the Blind from my living room. I hear children playing in their yards. I hear lawnmowers. I hear dogs barking sometimes. I hear a macaw every once in a while who screams like it’s being tortured, but it’s always followed up with a distant “shut up!” that silences it and never fails to cracks me up. I hear the wind in the trees and I hear nothing.

I see full, green trees and waving green grass. I see walkers and bike riders and skaters. I wave or they wave and I smile to myself each time. It’s a neighborhood and we're home…….for now.

We Just Make the Signs, Ma'am

We honor famous people by naming roads after them. It is meant to be a significant gesture of good will. But is it an honor? If we don’t even know who they are, are they truly being honored? If you’re a television star or a musician, we’ll remember you forever, with or without a road sign. But Americans have extremely short attention spans about anything remotely historical or educational.

For example, how can we be expected to know after whom Austin Peay Highway, Walter K. Singleton Parkway, Paul Barret Parkway, WB Fowler Expressway, or Bill Morris Parkway was named ? Unless you lived while they were in the news, were a long-time resident of the area, knew someone related to them, or actually took the time to ask or research, you’d never know. I would never take the time to investigate these faceless names on the signs unless I’d been given this assignment.

Only being a resident of Desoto County for three years, I had no idea who to call to find out about the memorial roadways in Memphis. The Tennessee Department of Transportation referred me to the City Commission who referred me to the County Commission who referred me back to the City Commission who then referred me to the Memphis/Shelby County Department of Transportation who referred me to the Public Works Department. Surprisingly, these people had more information than the others. After being transferred six times, a man on the other end of the phone informed me, “Oh, we wouldn’t know anything about that. We just make the signs, ma’am.” I had officially learned something.

When researching anything and all else fails, I always end up at the libraries and the city archives. And the Memphis archivists couldn’t have been more helpful. It was so unusual and refreshing, I even called back twice just to thank them for their time. Essentially, they referred me to archives of the local newspaper. Again, I had learned something.

Austin Peay Highway was named for Austin Peay IV, known as “The Maker of Modern Tennessee”. Peay served an unprecedented three terms as Governor of Tennessee from 1923 until his death in office in 1927. He was specifically known for initiating and passing an administrative reorganization bill which eliminated sixty-four government bureaus and re-grouped them into eight departments, lowering the state deficit by millions of dollars, and also for implementing a tobacco tax which was spent on highways and education. He served during the difficult controversy of the 1925 Scopes Evolution Trials in Dayton, Tennessee. He was honored for his unselfish, “for the people” style of government with a road, a big road, and a sign, a big sign. And a university in Clarksville, Tennessee.

Sergeant Walter K. Singleton, United States Marine, was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor and the Purple Heart for heroism in the Vietnam War. His platoon was attacked by intense enemy fire. He advanced, shooting at the enemy and moving injured men from harm’s way, and eventually disorganized their operation. He was mortally wounded, yet saved many of his comrade’s lives. He is the only person in Shelby County ever to receive the Medal of Honor. He has an annual run, a road, and a sign. But better yet, he is honored on the Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial Wall

Paul Barret was a well-known businessman, banker, and political leader in Barretville, a town in northern Shelby County established by his family in the 1840’s. Barret died in 1999, leaving assets valued at about $75 million and funding trusts for various libraries and buildings scattered around Memphis. He now has a library at Rhodes College named after his money, I mean, him. He was also honored with a road and a sign.

William Bingham Fowler was Memphis’ city engineer from 1927 to 1957. During his career, he worked with the Department of Public Works, designed the Memphis Zoo, worked on the sewer systems, and many other projects throughout the city. His sign is on the southern extension of I-240 circling the town.

William N. Morris was Shelby County sheriff for six years and mayor for sixteen years. Morris was elected in 1978, 1982, 1986, and 1990. Mr. Morris proves that you don’t have to die to get a road and a sign. After he dies, I would imagine more information will be available about his contributions. Only then will we honor him appropriately.

I think the signs are certainly honors to these great contributors to Memphis and Tennessee. We just don’t take the time to think about or even thank the people who came before us for their many accomplishments that have made our lives better or easier. We may ask our passengers while driving down the road, “Do you know who Austin Peay is?” But more than likely they won’t know who he was either. We shrug and drive on, checking our voice mails, emails, palm pilots, or pagers. Or better yet, we pick up our cell phones to chat with our friends so we don’t waste the thirty-minute drive home.

If you ever find an extra minute and would like further information about the roads of the Memphis honorable, a columnist for the Commercial Appeal, Ann Meeks, has written several articles on the subject since 1990. You can meander through the archives at www.gomemphis.com and purchase, for $2.95, as they say, “the full story”.

But in the meantime, slow down. Smell the roses. And take a minute to really read the signs.

---Karen Rutherford

Bibliography:

  1. http://politicalgraveyard.com/index.html
  2. http://newgomemphis.com/newgo/core/archives.htm
  3. http://hqinet001.hqmc.usmc.mil/HD/Historical/MOH/Vietnam_War_1965-1973/Singleton_WK.htm
  4. http://www.mishalov.com/Singleton.html
  5. http://www.virtualwall.org/ds/SingletonWK01a.htm

Lightning can be your friend

My father and his wife of fourteen years moved into their new house in September of 1997. They spent the previous two years building it exactly to their upscale specifications.

Almost three years later, in June of 2000, the house was struck by lightning for the first time. In the following three months, it was struck three times.

Insurance adjusters and experts told him that lightning typically strikes the highest object in any given area and his house, being on top of the only, yet substantial, hill in his neighborhood, certainly qualified. They couldn’t explain why nothing had happened the three prior years, but they advised him to arm his house appropriately.

He grounded the yard with lightning rods, bought lightning arrestors for his electrical, cable and telephone systems, and accumulated a wide array of surge protectors for every piece of equipment inside the house.

But nothing helped. For the next three years, my father’s house was hit by lightning more times than he could admittedly count. Then, as curiously and abruptly as it began, it stopped in January 2004 and, according to relatives’ reports, hasn’t occurred since.

My last communication of any kind with my father was Christmastime, 2003. This synchronicity is insignificant to everyone but me.

The Best Strikes

June 2000:

My father typically has three computers in the house: one in the kitchen, one in his office, and one in her office. The newest one, purchased for his wife just a few months before, smoked, caught fire and literally exploded the day after my son and I left his house after a week-long summer visit.

I was two weeks away from graduating college and declared my pending accomplishment (because nobody had asked) during the visit. His wife’s response was “Oh, we thought you were done with all that school stuff.” My father said, “Yea, we thought you were already done.”

I should mention that my father stopped paying for my college education when I was a sophomore at the University of Georgia’s Journalism School in 1983. That summer, he married his new wife after my mother’s death two years earlier. He and his new wife had worked together at the same company for twenty years and “dated” for nobody knows how long prior to my mother’s death. I only mention this because I was fairly proud of the fact that I had finished my college degree (granted, 20 years later at age 39 and as a single parent) with no help from him. I felt that it was an accomplishment of which any parent would be proud. Or at least not ignore. And definitely not belittle.

July 2000:

My father’s other two computers and his intricate home intercom/security system snapped, fizzled, and died the day I informed him that I was sending him some money I owed to him.

I paid my father $800 that I had borrowed (actually, I had begged because he wasn’t pleased with this request at all and I was desperate for the money) for my first class. My company would reimburse steadily after that, but I needed the first payment upfront. My father is a firm believer that children should automatically become financially independent from their parents exactly at age 18, with the possible exception of college tuition and only tuition. His parents forced this belief on him when he was 18 as well, so I assume he felt compelled to carry on the tradition.

I should mention that they bought a $38,000 Chrysler Town & Country Limited van just a few weeks prior with money that my father’s wife’s 90-year-old mother had given them from a stock sale. She regularly showered her daughter with monetary gifts, which was just wonderful for my father, because, inexplicably, he didn’t view this as a compromise to his belief system.

September 2000:

A tree in my father’s yard was struck and fell through the guest bedroom roof of his house a few days after I sent an e-mail informing him that I was moving to Indianapolis.

After being unemployed for five months, I was offered a position in Indianapolis and moved in ten days. My father sent one congratulatory reply email and then didn’t contact me again until March of the following year. I’m not sure, but I believe he thought I would have asked for money.

November 2000:

He has a complicated telephone system. Phones popped and fizzled and died fiery deaths (actually creating a fire in the kitchen cabinets) two days after his wife refused to donate money for my son’s airline ticket to visit Indianapolis for Thanksgiving.

With only one day off work, I could not drive back and forth between Memphis and Indianapolis to be with my son for the Thanksgiving holiday. I couldn’t afford a plane ticket at the time, so I was sad and worried that he wouldn’t see his new house until he moved up officially at the end of the first semester of school in January. Unbeknownst to me, a friend of mine sent email to four people (including my father’s wife) asking to chip in ($40) for a plane ticket for my son. The only person who refused was my father’s wife. But not only did she refuse, she sent a lengthy embarrassing email to all my friends about how offended she was by being asked in the first place.

I never heard from my father during this time. I’m not sure what he thought we did for the holidays. I guess, if I were honest with myself, he didn’t think about it at all.

March 2001:

With this storm, he lost his phone system again. Nothing caught on fire, but the kitchen wall phone flew off the wall and made a decent dent in the hardwood floor.

I don’t know what this was for. Perhaps this was just a reminder that he should check on us.

November/December 2001:

This series of strikes actually did damage to the roof. Something (wiring) caught fire in the attic and they were told by the familiar firemen that they were lucky the whole house didn’t burn to the ground.

Again, my father never asked what we were doing for Thanksgiving or Christmas. He didn’t call to find out.

However, his wife did email to ask me what my son was doing for Thanksgiving. I told her that I would be driving to Nashville, Tennessee to meet my son’s father so they could drive to Atlanta and spend the holidays with his parents. I would be staying in Indianapolis.

She told my father (I later found out) that we were going to Memphis for Thanksgiving. Obviously, my father gave this no actual thought, because I know not one person with whom I would spend a holiday in Memphis.

My son and I went to Chicago for Christmas because we received no family invitations. It was actually a wonderful trip and I know he enjoyed it. We did drive to Atlanta the day after Christmas – I spent a few days visiting friends and my son spent a few days with his father’s family. My father called my cell phone a few days after Christmas to ask how our holidays were and, unfortunately, found out we were in Atlanta.

We spent two hours at a Red Lobster on New Year’s Day with my father and his wife.

July 2002:

Another computer. This time, my father’s.

My father is, and has been for years, on the Board of Directors at Rome’s First United Methodist Church. He considers himself among the godliest of all the godly businessmen in the church. It is the wealthiest church in the town and requires a lot of money to run. It also requires a lot of money to keep and attract the proper minister. Only ministers who are capable of hobnobbing with the wealthy church members would be acceptable. Therefore, the minister needed to have access to and afford all the things his flock could. This summer, my father donated $20,000 for his minister’s annual country club membership. It was just what Board members do in the name of Christianity.

December 2002:

This time, the television in their sitting room was struck. It popped and blew, but did not catch on fire. Typically, they unplug appliances now at the first sign of rain, but they forgot this TV.

My son visited in Atlanta for Christmas. He and my father made arrangements to meet for lunch while he was in town. Immediately after ordering, my father’s wife got a phone call from her son whom she talks to on a daily basis. She left to talk on the phone outside the restaurant. She sat in their van for over 45 minutes. By the time she came back, they had eaten their food and my father had paid the check. I guess the two hour visit the year before hadn’t worn off yet for her.

December 2003:

A laundry room fire.

My father actually invited us to visit for Christmas. He hadn’t done this in years, and I had expressed to him how shitty I thought our visits had become, so I honestly thought it was something like a peace offering. I accepted and made plans for the whole week.

I emailed that we’d come Christmas Eve day and spend two days and then go on to visit other family and friends. My father’s wife saw the email and replied. “We have plans for Christmas Day. I guess your father forgot.”

So my father called and asked, “Can you come the day after Christmas?”

“No.”

“Well, you can come Christmas Eve but we have to spend Christmas Day with family. Maybe there’s someone you could visit while we do that?”

I don’t even remember what I said. I do remember crying for months. I also remember forgiving him (only in my heart – he has never acknowledged doing anything hurtful) about a year later. But I haven’t talked to him since. I let the machine pick up his quarterly phone calls.

I guess he hasn’t given much thought to the fact that I haven’t called him back. He’s probably just glad that lightning hasn’t struck his house again.

-- Karen Rutherford, March 2005
-- ~ 1,700 words

Good enough for a documentary

My son and I were talking about some movie star, whose name I can't remember now, being discovered in some common, ordinary way. I told him stories of ones I remembered hearing about who had been spotted eating in a restaurant, sitting at a bus stop, shopping at the grocery store, or walking down the hall of an office building. I don't know how we got on the subject and I don't know what our point was initially. But, the conversation ended like this:

ME: It would be so hard to believe. How would you trust that the person was honest? I can't imagine being discovered like that. You're just sitting in a restaurant somewhere and some big-time movie guy starts talking out of the blue about being in a movie. It doesn't seem like something that I could even imagine...

SON: Yea, not for you - unless it was a documentary.

BB Guns

From Tami's archives (Nicholas is age 5): Nicholas and I are sitting out on the front steps the other day because he wanted to look at the clouds; it was a nice spring day. So we're sitting there looking at clouds, admiring the spring scenery, when he notices a robin perched in the crepe myrtle and says, "Look, mama! What a pretty bird.....I wish I had my BB gun!"

A day off from school

Recently, my teenager had a holiday from school. When we were scheduling that week's activities, I casually mentioned that I could take that day off from work and we could make it a long weekend. As he stormed out of the room, he said, "Fine, just RUIN my day off!" I'm gonna miss him.....someday. :)

Bible School

At age 5, my son had attended Bible school for a week which really gave him something to think about. I noticed he was just staring off into space one day (longer than usual), so I asked him if anything was wrong. He said, "No, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking. Maybe if Jesus had just asked people if he could do tricks for them, they wouldn't have gotten mad and hung him."

Break Days

My 14-year-old son and I have periodically taken what we call "break days" during his school years. They usually end up being in January when it's dark, lonely and cold making it hard to get out of bed in the mornings. In the past, allowing these days off has only added (more) to my "cool mom" status. From what he says, no other kid he knows has a mom that offers this service.

This year, we spent our January break day sleeping late, eating out, going to the mall and the bookstore (a favorite trip) and watching TV. It went by too fast and I mentioned that night that one more day sure would be nice. My son said "Yea, but I got stuff to do."

Why do we make martyrs out of the criminally negligent?

Yesterday, at the beauty shop, Donna and I made typical beauty shop conversation while she cut my hair. We talked about her vacation to New York City the week before. She hated it. She hated the crowds, the smells, the hassles, the noise, the people. She also spent some time in New Jersey visiting relatives and hated that too. Mostly, in New Jersey, it was the driving that made her nuts.

“People drove so fast and they just didn’t seem to care that there were other people on the road,” she explained.

“I had the same experience when we went to Boston a couple of years ago. I remember driving 75mph in the slow lane on the highway and even those people honked constantly wanting to pass me,” I agreed. “Of course, some of that goes on here in Indianapolis,” I added.

“Oh, I know it. Isn’t your son getting ready to drive?” she asked me.

I told her that he was 15, thought he was ready for his learner’s permit and it all scared me to death. We talked a minute about kids driving and the subject led to people driving while talking on cell-phones. “They have a no-cell-phone-while-driving law in New Jersey now. I wish we had that here,” she said.

And then she went on to tell me about a client of hers who recently was driving on I-465 in Indianapolis. He was talking on his cell-phone and drove into the lane next to him, hitting and killing a motorcycle driver instantly.

”That’s just so tragic. So senseless. Did anything happen to your client?” I asked.

“No, there are no laws against cell-phone usage while driving here, so there was no criminal intent and no charges against him.”

By this time, there were four other women in the shop listening, but so far none had made a comment.

“But, you know, the family of the guy on the motorcycle is now suing him. Poor thing. He’s got a lot of money and they’re going to make sure they get some of it.”

One of the other women shook her head in disgust and said, “Oh, that’s such a shame.” Then the other three and Donna made a few more “such a shame” and “that could just ruin him” comments before the subject was changed.

But I was stuck. I couldn’t move on to the next subject yet. What they had essentially said was that now the true victim was her client. That it was as if the motorcycle driver had purposefully put himself in that exact spot at that exact time so his family could get some money from his (unintentional, yet criminally negligent) killer. And, in the process, the community needed to show their support of him. It would be wrong for the man to have to pay, financially or otherwise. Hadn’t he paid enough? Hadn’t he suffered enough?

Had he?

Who am I to judge?

I couldn’t think of a thing to say in response to this group for fear of someone quoting Bible verses to me about judgment. And besides, they were already two subjects ahead of me. But most of all I was just scared to voice my unpopular opinion.

See, the same thing had happened not a week before. And I had spoken up, unfortunately.

Three months ago, an outdoor guide/teacher at a prep school in Georgia led a group of students on a spring break excursion to Suwanee and Coon Island. Part of their trek required a 4.5 mile trip skirting the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. He had been a guide for over 25 years and had made this particular trip several times. But on February 26, 2005, he ignored weather reports and Coast Guard warnings, and chose to lead the group into the ocean. When their one motorized boat failed, two of the boys floated away in their kayaks and died. Their bodies were found 13 miles out in the Gulf two days later. The boys were dressed in t-shirts and shorts, there was only a cell-phone for communication, there were many mistakes made by this "expert" guide, and there were several problems with sub-par craft making the trip precarious in the first place according to outdoor experts.

But most importantly, the leader ignored the weather reports of the “worst storm of the season so far” that morning and led the entire group to what could have been all their deaths. It became a blessing that they all didn’t die. According to the guide’s town, he truly was a hero. In May, the guide/teacher received a community award for all he’s done for kids over the years.

My question that I needed an answer to (probably because I have a son the same age as these poor boys) was that of arrogance. A man who ignores the weather and risks eight kids’ lives has to have quite the ego. In addition, he was vehemently coaching his soccer team (another one of his school activities) before the boys were even buried. He was quoted in the paper about the “fun” he was having watching them play.

So, I spoke up. I emailed him my questions and he responded. He said that there were legal proceedings in progress preventing him from talking about it. I assumed someone was suing him or the school.

Then his wife and his website creator emailed me. She mentioned his suffering, his welcomed attendance at the funerals, the nurturing support and good works he’d done for hundreds of children over the years, how wrong I was for judging someone else, and how much of an “idiot” I was for badgering him. The website friend talked about how much the community loved and respected him, quoted Bible verses about judging people and told me he’d “see me in hell’. Both mentioned that it was a shame that anyone would want civil justice for this tragedy, and that the town insisted that he continue taking kids on trips so this one tragedy wouldn’t turn into another.

So, accidents happen every day. People’s negligence causes other people to die every day. But how does the negligent person become the victim? When did this happen? Is it because of money? Is it because we value money more than we do human life and that it is more of a detriment to lose?

It can’t be about Christian forgiveness and the sin of judgment , because why would someone quoting Bible verses about judgment banish me to hell?

And what about judgment? If we don’t judge each other, do right and wrong even exist?

If there were no judgment, wouldn’t there be no jails? Wouldn’t murderers, serial killers and pedophiles live among us, stand next to us at church, shop at the same places, drive on our streets, teach our children? Shouldn’t they, according to the Bible?

Or is legal judging different than Christian judging? Are they two different things in the eyes of Christians? In the eyes of God? Does this mean that we should leave all judgment to God? Or do we leave it in the hands of the legal system? Then we as ordinary people should not have any opinion other than the law?

We should then stop voicing our opinions? Is that how this country was founded? Is that how civilizations throughout history have conducted themselves? Is that what was done at the Crucifixion? Nobody was supposed to judge or have opinions about the crucifiers? Is this correct? Is this moral? Is this really how God meant it?

And if we do have an opinion/pass judgment on another, are we then, according to the Bible, worse sinners than the offender?

Because I judge the criminally negligent as I do, does God now feel worse about me than he feels about them?

But back to my original question: why do we make martyrs out of the criminally negligent? I suppose my answer would have to be because of our subjective interpretation of Christian doctrine and our glory of money. What a combination.

Email from the Orr Treks Webmaster (from a fake address)

****This came from an anonymous, fictitious email address.
I originally sent TWO "pesky" emails to Steve Hall. His wife
emailed me and would not let up. This warranted this person, who
actually thinks Hall's grief (apparent on the soccer field) was comparable
to the families' grief, banishing me to hell. Still, nobody has disputed of
the facts.****

From: John Stone [noresponseaddy@yahoo.com]
Sent: Monday, June 27, 2005 4:12 PM
To: krutherf@comcast.net
Subject: Orr Treks

I am the web-master for www.orrtreks.com.  I was asked
to block your address from the servers as a result of
your masturbatory pestering; which was quite apparent
as I wasted a few moments to read several of your
messages.  I figured while I was on a roll, I'd waste
a few more to drop you a quick line of my own accord;
although I am certain it is merely piss in the wind -
just as it is quite clear that there is nothing the
town of Rome, Darlington School, or the Hall family
can do to satisfy your unquenchable desire for
self-importance.

Unlike you, I was there in Suwannee shortly after the
boys were found, I was in attendance at both funerals,
and I was a first-hand witness to the unspeakable
grief experienced by the entire community and Mr.
Hall; whose sadness could only be paralleled by that
of the families.  I'm sure all involved are very
thankful for your accusatory concern; which you should
henceforth reserve for issues that you know something
about.

Where do you live again? Indiana? (Oh - this is
rhetorical.  I get enough e-mails without the
assistance of muckrakers like yourself)

I have noticed that you seem to be a sister of the
Christian persuasion.  As such, I made an attempt to
look at the situation through your eyes, and turned to "the Good Book" for guidance.  I found the following:

"Judge not, that ye be not judged." - Matthew 7:1
"There is one lawgiver, who is able to save and to
destroy: who art thou that judgest another?" - James
4:12
"For with what judgement ye judge, ye shall be judged:
and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to
you again." - Matthew 7:2

I'm sure you know that there are plenty more of that
flavor...but the dead horse is beaten.

See you in hell.

Emails from Chris Hall (the wife)

From: Chris Hall [clhall@bellsouth.net]
Sent: Sunday, June 26, 2005 3:15 PM
To: Karen Rutherford
Subject: Re: From Steve Hall's Wife


You're right because you're an idiot.
 
 
From: Karen Rutherford [krutherf@comcast.net]
Sent: Sunday, June 26, 2005 1:34 PM
To: Chris Hall
Subject: RE: From Steve Hall's Wife


His good works? Let me think. A drunk driver goes 364 days in a given year without killing anyone through his own negligence and arrogance. On the 365th day, he kills someone. But you want the world to celebrate those first 364 days of luck, right? Is that what you're saying? Please tell me you're kidding.
 
You're the same wife who told her husband to not speak to reporters anymore after he spoke of the fun he was having on the soccer field within the week of the boys' deaths, right? You're the same wife who mentioned to reporters that your husband would not be speaking to anyone until charges were cleared, right? I don't think you want to talk to me about Christianity or doing the right thing or having a life. Please don't tell me that because I voiced my opinion that your husband should be in jail that you're accusing me of having no life. How does one who thinks clearly make this connection?
 
I think I have as many facts as anyone does. Were you there that night? Did you read the articles? Did you read Coast Guard accounts of the inept decisions your husband made that night? You do realize that a child had to coax your husband into helping the boys in the first place? You do realize that the Weather Channel reported at noon CST that the storm was coming - "the worst storm of the season thus far", right? You do realize that your incredibly wonderfully admired husband ignored that and chose to lead children into what could have been all their deaths? What if they had all died?
 
Stop playing the victim, honey. Two boys died SOLELY and COMPLETELY because of your husband. I think you deserve more attacks than just mine. Your husband deserves to be in jail.
 
No life? You're sorry for me? Why do you feel sorry for me? I'm not sure I understand that one. It seems to me that you should be sorry for the McKemies and the Wilkinsons, not me. I appreciate your sympathy, but it's a little misguided, don't you think?
 
I simply voiced my opinion of your husband. I don't understand people like him and I never will. I hate that people like him exist. I had to speak up. It never ceases to amaze me how people like you and your husband can, in their own wretched minds, twist things around so that an innocent bystander is now at fault. I suppose it helps, along with soccer, Darlington, and those 250 letters, get you through your miserable days to come.
 
Your email doesn't even mention a tragedy. Amazing.  Again, no responsibility whatsoever. You should be ashamed as well. Don't worry though. I'll see this through.

One other analogy that might make sense to you...
 
Your husband puts all the kids in a shark tank. One kid gets out and tries to convince your husband to save the rest. Together, they save a few, but can't save all.
 
You want credit for your husband in saving the ones that he could, right?  And take zero responsibility for putting the kids in danger in the first place, right? And then blame someone else for questioning his actions and decisions, right?
 
I've made my point, so it's useless to continue. Judging by the content of your email, it probably doesn't make sense to you anyway.


-----Original Message-----
From: Chris Hall [mailto:clhall@bellsouth.net]
Sent: Sunday, June 26, 2005 1:01 PM
To: krutherf@comcast.net
Subject: From Steve Hall's Wife


You, my dear "Christian", need to get a life of your own.  My husband has suffered enough without you psychos badgering about events that you know nothing about.  Ah, 'tis easy for you to sit back in your comfortable easy chair and make judgements against his good works.   I have over two hundred letters from students and parents that have participated on his trips from the last 25 years, all stating how he has positively changed their lives in some way.   What have you done in your boring little lifetime to have changed and helped nurture so many young lives??  You weren't out there that tragic night.  You have no idea of the real facts.  You obviously don't know what the hell you're talking about.  Before attacking someone else about something so devastating, please make sure you have ALL the facts.
 
I'm so sorry for you.  Get a life.
Take Care,
Chris Hall

First Emails

_________________________

From: Steve Hall [SHall@darlingtonschool.org]
Sent: Sunday, June 26, 2005 9:09 AM
To: Karen Rutherford
Subject: RE: trips

I cannot talk about it now. Legal reasons. When that is resolved I will respond.


-----Original Message-----
From: Karen Rutherford [mailto:krutherf@comcast.net]
Sent: Sat 6/25/2005 9:00 PM
To: Steve Hall
Subject: RE: trips
 
Obviously, even you haven't come up with a justification for your actions.

I had to finalize this by saying that it would've been less telling had you
not sent your attempt at a diversionary reply. My judgment was obviously
dead-on because only arrogance would allow you to ever deny the
responsibility that you have to know is yours.

My reason for emailing was simply to let you know that there are people out
there who, while understanding tragic accidents, also understand the
significant part you played in Sean and Clay's deaths.

I understand people like you exist, unfortunately, I just get confused at an
entire community not speaking out loudly against its vile members who
attend, coach and discuss with reporters, soccer games 4 days after they
find the bodies of children who absolutely did not have to die, but did
solely because of your decisions.

I'm sure it is a comfort to someone like you to have Darlington (a
Christian?) school that can have such a legalistic and universal impact on
what's right and wrong in your community.

Enjoy your community award and all your future trips. I hope they, like
soccer, help get you through each morning of the rest of your life waking up
to the fact that two children died as a direct result of your arrogance.

Karen Rutherford


-----Original Message-----
From: Steve Hall [mailto:SHall@darlingtonschool.org]
Sent: Wednesday, June 15, 2005 7:25 AM
To: Karen Rutherford
Subject: RE: trips


I appreciate your inquiry and will respond to it more at a later time.
Believe me, arrogance is the farthest rationale for any actions since that
time.I know it is a cliche but from the outside looking in, it is always
easy to make incorrect judgments. I promise I will send you a greater
explanation.

________________________________

From: Karen Rutherford [mailto:krutherf@comcast.net]
Sent: Tue 6/14/2005 8:01 PM
To: Steve Hall
Subject: trips

Hello,

I live in Indianapolis. I lived in Rome for a few years in the 1990's and
still have a few friends there who share news stories with me every so
often. In March, I got "hooked" on the story of your tragic spring break
trip to Florida. I did some investigation of events on the trip and upon
your return home to Rome. What stunned me at first was how quickly you
returned to coaching soccer, encouraginginterviews from local reporters
about your thoughts on the team and how "fun" (your word) coaching them
always is (just a few days after the two boys drowned due to your neglect).
I wrote a little piece about what must be your character just to find some
outlet in dealing with the knowledge that people like you exist. I won't
stop until I find a public place for it to rest.

What continues to shock me, however, is how little Rome cares. I see on your
website that you had trips planned for March, April, May, and now in June,
July, etc., in water and out of water. I can't imagine what type of parent
would willingly and knowingly send their child off on a trip with you. I
would consider it child abuse. But somehow Rome forgets today what happened
yesterday. How fortunate for someone like you.

I suppose I'm alone in my thinking, but I just had to ask: It' s obvious
that you feel no responsibility for the boys' deaths. How do you do it? Do
you actually believe you did nothing wrong? What possible justification must
run through your mind upon waking each day? Or are you so absurdly arrogant
that you truly feel nothing?


Karen Rutherford

_____________
Egomaniacal teacher causes spring break tragedy

Steve Hall is an English teacher, founder of the outdoor education program
and head coach for the varsity girls' soccer team at Darlington, a
prestigious K-12 Christian school in Rome, Georgia. He also owns his own
company, Orr-Treks Outdoor Adventures, which has organized and led various
outdoor expeditions for Darlington students since 1984. He is known at
school as being quite the outdoorsman extraordinaire.

On Orr-Treks' website, <http://www.orrtreks.com/>, Hall touts not only his
superhuman abilities and expertise, but also his impeccable safety record:

"Since 1984 we've led hundred of expeditions over a million miles of
highways, trail, rivers and rocks with hundreds of participants without
incurring a single serious injury...."

"Our safety record is not based on luck but on good planning, a highly
skilled staff, state-of-the-art outdoor gear, and well-maintained
transportation."

The last week of February 2005, Mr. Hall, accompanied by his assistant
soccer coach, led a group of eight Darlington students on a spring break
canoe and kayak trip down the Suwanee River in the northern peninsula of
Florida.

His lack of appropriate preparation and arrogant disregard for the worsening
weather conditions directly and single-handedly resulted in two students'
deaths. As the leader, the expert, and one of only two adults on the trip,
only Hall can be held responsible.

On Saturday, February 26th, 2005, during a Florida storm that included high
winds and two to three foot waves, the group skirted the coastline of the
Gulf of Mexico headed north towards Coon Island.

Hall's well-maintained equipment consisted of a motorized catamaran boat
that malfunctioned, a cell phone with no service, no radio and no backup
equipment. The kids were dressed in t-shirts and shorts to canoe in 4 ½
miles of ocean. According to John Burton, a captain with the Florida Fish
and Wildlife Conservation Commission, the water temperature was 58 to 60
degrees Fahrenheit. Experts say that rescue divers in wet suits can only
tolerate water that cold for 10 minutes.

In their March 2, 2005, article titled "Hypothermia played role in death of
students", a Rome News Tribune timeline constructed from interviews, 911
tapes, the U.S. Coast Guard and the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation
Commission listed the following:

Around 3pm Saturday, Sean Wilkinson and Clay McKemie were paddling in a
canoe together at the back of a convoy led by Hall in a motorized catamaran
raft.

Around 6pm, the motor in Hall's raft failed when a rope got caught. Hall
spent the next two hours tying the other canoes and kayaks to the raft,
while Sean and Clay drifted farther and farther away.

At approximately 8pm, Hall took a canoe out to look for the boys, but came
back unsuccessful.

At 9pm, Hall went back out with a student who should be
commended for his bravery and initiative. This student (who in March 2010 asked that his name be removed from this 2005 post not wanting any association with the event) volunteered (probably insisted) to go back out to look for the boys and to try to get service on Hall's cell
phone.

At 10:30pm, Hall reached his wife on his cell phone.

At 11:30pm, Hall's wife, with help from the Floyd County 911 service,
contacted the US Coast Guard who began their official search.

Just before noon, February 28th, 2005, the bodies of the two boys were found
thirteen miles offshore in the Gulf of Mexico.

The sequence of events demands answers to the following questions:
Why didn't Steve Hall heed the weather conditions and warnings?
Why was the outdoorsman extraordinaire unable to radio for help at 6pm when
the trouble first began? Where was his backup equipment? Why would anyone,
as prepared as he professes to be, depend on a cell phone in the Gulf of
Mexico? Why would any reasonable adult responsible for eight children behave
in such a thoughtless, reckless, and arrogant way?

Why did Hall not take his cell phone on his first attempt to find the boys?
Why did Hall not instruct his wife how to contact the US Coast Guard (saving
an hour)?
And why in the world did a student have to urge the expert to make a second
attempt and try his cell phone in the first place?

Can one assume that, according to his personal high standards described on
his own website, Steve Hall considered this level of planning, preparedness
and consideration for the children for which he was responsible perfectly
acceptable? Or was he so arrogant that he didn't even have the humility to
heed the weather warnings? Or was he comparable to a habitual drunk driver
making stupid decision after stupid decision, going years without an
accident until one fatal day? Would the drunk driver's history of never
having any prior accidents be touted? Should he be praised for not killing
anyone else over the years?

It's also troubling to me how quickly the utmost of Christian entities turn
to legalism in a crisis. In Darlington High School's press release on
February 28th, 2005, President Jim Hendrix refers to Steve Hall as "a
12-year veteran of Darlington and licensed outdoor tour guide with 25 years
of experience in outdoor education." Mr. Hendrix goes on to say that "Steve
has led this trip seven times, as well as innumerable other outings through
his company, Orr-Treks." He added, "There has never been an incident
involving safety on any of his trips."

By March 4, 2005, the President and Chairman of the Board posted a letter on
the Darlington website with more details. In the second paragraph, they
mention the "hundreds of trips Steve Hall has led over the past twenty-five
years" and "the steady stream of testimonials from many of his former
program and trip participants, and their parents."

This information means two things: Darlington School wants to maintain a
safe distance from Orr-Trek and Steve Hall's luck finally ran out.

But the most disturbing part of the story is that, on March 8th, 2005, eight
days after the bodies were found and less than three days after the boys'
funerals, Steve Hall was seen by local sources vehemently and
enthusiastically coaching the girl's first soccer game after their spring
break from school the previous week.

On March 9th, 2005, a memorial for the two boys was held at Darlington. And
the following day, at the second soccer match since the tragedy, Hall was
quoted in a Rome News Tribune article, "Lady Tigers show seasoned signs,
9-0", saying, "Trying to get back to normal has really helped in dealing
with it, and the kids have been great." He added, "I was really pleased with
how they played today. That's what I like about this team - everybody
contributes, and they are a fun team to watch."

Fun. Steve Hall was having fun less than ten days after essentially killing
two teenage boys.

The following week, Christina Hall, Steve Hall's wife, told reporters that
her husband would not speak to them any further until they saw the
investigator's report. That is, he needed to keep his mouth shut until he
was found not legally responsible.

Even though no criminal charges will be filed against Hall, his moral
obligation seemingly escapes him. Where is this man's remorse, his
conscience or his sense of responsibility?

I live 500 miles away in Indiana, certainly not involved in local events or
with the local people, yet somehow more outraged than the town. As far as
I've been able to ascertain from the local articles about Hall, the people
have actually rallied around him and voiced their support.

I'd like to ask the parents of Rome, and specifically, the parents of
Darlington School students one question:

The Orr-Trek site has no mention of any cancellations of upcoming trips and,
in fact, there's a real "fun" one scheduled for Easter break (less than a
month after the deaths of Clay and Sean).

Assuming room is available, won't you sign your child up to spend a weekend
with Steve Hall?
____________

A lot of the news links have now expired. The Darlington site links have mysteriously disappeared, along with ANY mention of Steve Hall's OrrTreks school-sponsored organization. It's like it never existed.

 

(Links on this blog to more information: http://www.karenrutherford.com/display/ShowJournal?moduleId=830920&categoryId=76317)


February 28, 2005, Darlington Press Release:
<http://www.darlington.rome.ga.us/news/viewstory.asp?storyID=13379&search=steve%20hall>
March 4, 2005, Darlington News Letter:
<http://www.darlington.rome.ga.us/news/viewstory.asp?storyID=13387&search=steve%20hall>
February 28, 2005, CNN article, "Bodies of teen kayakers found":
<http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/02/28/kayakers.lost.ap/index.html>
March 1, 2005, Rome News Tribune article, "Tragedy at sea":
<http://news.mywebpal.com/partners/680/public/news614126.html>
March 2, 2005, Rome News Tribune article, "Hypothermia played role in death of students":
PDF of Article
<http://news.mywebpal.com/partners/680/public/news614760.html>
March 11, 2005, Rome News Tribune article, "Lady Tigers show seasoned signs, 9-0":
PDF of Article
<http://news.mywebpal.com/partners/680/public/news616961.html>
March 16, 2005, Rome News Tribune article, "No Charges in canoe deaths":
PDF of Article
<http://news.mywebpal.com/partners/680/public/news617771.html>

 

"You must be sensitive."

A co-worker asked me to fill in for him taking notes at a client meeting. I’ve done this twice for him and never think to hesitate, even though I don’t relish the role at this point in my technical writing career. I figure we’re on a team with the same goal, so it’s just one person helping another.

All went smoothly the first time I filled in for him. I turned in my minutes to him and the client and never heard a word. I guess I just assumed all went well. What was blatantly missing was a “thanks” or something of the sort in any communication – phone or email. But I ignored it, thinking he might have just been too busy to be polite.

This time he needed to pick his wife up from the airport and needed someone to fill in for him. He sent an email with the document he had used in his last meeting. This time, he signed each of his email communication, “Regards, David”.

I replied back saying that I had received the instructions and would be there at the assigned time. And at the end of the email I typed, “Even though there is no “Thank you”, I’ll still say “You’re welcome.”

He replied with the following : I have covered many meetings for technical writers within our organization and didn't feel the need to receive a "thank you" from them. It's part of our job to help cover meetings if there is a conflict, and we get paid well for doing the work. Your comment about the Thank You was 100% unprofessional. I did not deem your response appropriate. I hope you deal better with people in the business world.

Along with a Yahoo card of gratitude and peace and joy and sharing and…so on.

Of course, I responded: It’s really just common courtesy – in both the business and personal world. Technically, I would be taking time to fill in for you, so I’m fairly certain most people would deem it appropriate.

Yet none of this is what bothers me the most. When my boss got wind of the communication, she told me “You must be sensitive.” She carried on: “We’re all not perfect” and “we have to be forgiving of each other” and “we have to work as a team”.

I told her that it was not an issue of being sensitive. “I just have higher expectations of people. I will always demand civility from others.”

She never quite got it, but she did mention that this man called her to tell her to apologize to me (again with the manners?), especially for the card which he said was “over the top”, so I feel that maybe my point was made. I hope this person will say thank you to the next person he asks to help him.

If we continue to accept discourtesy, expect the least, and overlook the lack of common, everyday decency from each other, what will happen?

I hope we never overlook people’s lack of courtesy. If we don’t expect it, people won’t offer it, and I hate to think of the world we’d have to live in.

The problem with Honda Odysseys

DETROIT (Reuters) - Honda Motor Co. Ltd. is recalling 985,154 Odyssey minivans in the United States to fix a long suspected problem of brain-stealing, federal safety regulators said on Wednesday.

The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration said the problem was brought to their attention by a plethora of people around the country noticing common behavior among, well, the truly stupid. They were all Honda Odyssey owners.

"We've received thousands of letters of legitimate concern and felt a responsibility to investigate,” said a spokesperson for the NHTSA. The problem has apparently been affecting Honda Odyssey minivan owners from the vehicle's inception. It seems that the remote controls in the steering wheels have intelligence-stealing microchips, that, when touched, emit transmissions that kill any matter in the brain responsible for sound judgement and rationality.

Honda added that they had already dedicated a team of people to figuring out a way to notify these idiots about the trouble with their vans. “We want to help them as fast as we can, but making them understand is our first hurdle,” Honda Motors told us earlier today.

The Honda recall is expected to begin immediately, but the process could be prolonged because of the general stupidity amongst the owners. "We can waste no time, knowing Odyssey minivan drivers are on the roads", NHTSA said.

Honda added, "We'll get to everyone eventually, it may just take us a little longer than usual. The poor things."