Book of Life

Victory Dinner

Last night Kathleen and I celebrated the seventh anniversary of our victory over breast cancer. She surprised me by choosing a Mexican restaurant. They serve decent Tex-Mex, but it's not healthy eating by any definition. It's comfort food.

I remember with clarity the evening in 1996 as I sat in the waiting room while Kathleen was in surgery having her lump removed. I was in a state of suspended animation. I couldn't read. I couldn't think. I wasn't interested in what the other families in the room were doing. About an hour after I thought Kathleen's procedure would be over, the young surgeon came through the door and walked towards me. I shook his hand.

He looked me in the eye and got right to the point. "I removed the lump and had it tested. It's cancer. She'll need another procedure to be sure that we got all the malignancy and to take some lymph nodes to check for metastasis. I'm sorry. From my office examination and the ultrasound, I expected it to be benign. On the positive side, the lump was small which is a good sign."

He was very matter of fact. I thanked him and borrowed some of his tone when I called her family. That night was the beginning of her journey of treatment and recovery.

It was fun to have Mexican food again. As we finished off our enchiladas, Kathleen thanked me for my help during her treatment, particularly for giving her a series of shots. During the latter phase of her chemotherapy, the poisonous cocktails they gave her intravenously had dramatically lowered her white blood cell count. Shots of neupogen stimulated the production of white cells from her bone marrow. "I couldn't stand to go back to the hospital every day for a shot so I asked you to give them to me. I had to have higher white counts or the doctor would have delayed my chemo or put me in the hospital. But the shots burned so bad I screamed every time. Within 24 hours they made every bone in my body ache, even my teeth; I was like an old woman who couldn't get out of a chair by herself. You knew I hated the shots, but you did it anyway, calmly, as if you'd been it doing forever."

I had never given anyone a shot before, but I learned quickly enough. It was something that had to be done. Kathleen needed the shots, but going to the hospital every day would have been miserable. I remember changing the site each time and doing it exactly the way the nurse had demonstrated it so that I could minimize her pain. I had the easier job by far; Kathleen had to suffer the shots.

So we drank a toast: "Here's to victory." Her blood tests have been negative ever since.

We also drank a toast to victory over taxes. Signed and sealed with a much smaller check than we wrote last year (better planning). And we didn't even agonize over how the government will spend the money.

And, yes, we drank a third toast to the mighty Duke Blue Devils, who won their regional championship game against a tough Xavier team and will be going to the Final Four. Their next game will be Saturday night against the University of Connecticut, the team that's favored to win it all.

Today’s FORTUNE COOKIE

Remember who matters most in your life, and all conflicts will disappear.

Your fortune will come from this strength within you: Loyalty.

Why I leave Fortune Cookies...

The Slap

Sunday morning Kathleen and I decided to try the breakfast at “The Island,” which used to be "Crusty's," a locals joint which was sold to new owners and has since been renovated and reopened. Raunchy no more, the decor was bright and wholesome with images of palm trees fashioned into the floor.

We got a window seat with a breathtaking panorama of the blue Atlantic Ocean. Waves gently rolled in while children played in the surf and their parents lay on towels, soaking up the sun. I ordered the smoked trout scrambled eggs with Dan fries. Kathleen ordered pancakes, but the kitchen wasn't set up to mix fruit in the batter, and they couldn’t make a poached egg. They kept our cups full of coffee, however.

An old man and his grandson surf-fished on the beach. I watched as the grandfather vigorously reeled in a catch. At one point he traded poles with the boy, who seemed to be no more than five years old. After the boy landed the fish, the grandfather touched the boy's shoulder, released the fish and threw it back into the ocean.

Seeing this reminded me that I didn’t get to spend much time with either of my grandfathers. Grandpa Edwards (on my mother's side) was a foreman at a Kennicott open-pit copper mine in Nevada. In 1954, when I was nine, my family, which included five children at the time, piled into our 1951 Mercury and drove from Missouri to Nevada for one of our rare visits.

Ely was a small Mormon town. Back then none of the streets were paved and the main street looked exactly like a town out of a western movie, with it’s wooden porches and swinging doors. A Cub Scout coin collector, I was impressed that everyone in Ely spent silver dollars.

The first morning, my grandfather gave me a bowl of oatmeal. “Eat up,” he said, flexing his bicep. “It’ll give you muskel.” As I ate the tasteless porridge, he told me this story:

I’m a righteous man today because of your mother. When she was a baby, we lived in a cabin in the country. We had no car, and we had to walk everywhere. Back then I drank alcohol. There was an awful winter night, three feet of snow had piled up and I had too much to drink. I reached for my glass and knocked the iron off the ironing board, and it fell on little Beatrice, who was crawling on the floor. I left the house to find a doctor and before long, I was lost. I knew that if I didn’t find my way, I would die and your momma would die. I cried and prayed to the Lord to help me. I told Him that if He would help me save little Beatrice, I would dedicate the rest of my life to the work of God. I pressed on and found the doctor. We got your momma fixed up, she grew up to be a beautiful woman, and I have dedicated my life to the Lord ever since.

Afterwards, Grandpa Edwards took Mom and me to see the mine. We got out of the car, and I followed them to the edge of a panorama that took my breath away. We stood before a man-made canyon that was about a mile across. Huge earthmovers several hundred feet below us, almost too small to see, were busy scooping and loading dirt. I didn't want to join them on the edge of the precipice. There was no railing. What if we fell off? What if the earth gave way beneath us? Finally, I went to them and they held my hands. My entire body shook with fear.

Sunday the family went to services in one of the two Mormon churches. These were the largest buildings in town, constructed in the architecture of the early pioneers. It seemed as if the whole community showed up for Sunday School. In Missouri, our church services never had more than 20 people. Here, the authority of the church was pervasive, palpable.

Mom was the eighth of sixteen children, and three of my aunts were still living at home. The youngest, Janey, two years older than I, was bigger, stronger and wiser. One morning, she and I were playing in the living room. Our contest reached a physical stage and she grabbed me from behind. I turned hard to free myself and she fell to the floor. In one motion, my grandmother leaned forward, lifted her massive weight out of her chair and slapped me as hard as she could across my face.

“You don’t shove girls,” she said with a frown, and fell back into her chair.

I was on the floor, the left side of my face hot and stinging. Surprised and stunned, I struggled to keep from crying. "We were just playing. I didn't hurt her," I said.

She gave me a cold look. She didn't appreciate this challenge to her authority. "I don't care. Don't ever do it again."

I turned my head towards the living room window, a blaze of white light. I turned so I wouldn't have to look at Grandma Edward's face, and I didn't look at her again during that visit. When the family left, I didn't say goodbye to her, and we never returned to Ely. I never saw my grandmother again, and I never again thought of her with affection. It was as if a small flame in my boy-heart had been blown out by a winter wind, extinguished forever.

Out the window, I could see a swarm of ring-billed gulls circling over the old man and his grandson. The scrambled eggs were actually very good. Kathleen liked the pancakes, but they couldn't make the breakfast she wanted, so it will be a long time before we come back.

Today’s FORTUNE COOKIE

Let anger die, and it won’t consume you.

Your fortune will come from this strength within you: Forgiveness.

Why I leave Fortune Cookies...

My Guilty Pleasure

Usually when I talk about food, it's because Kathleen has made something so "really healthy, really delicious" that I want to tell you about it. Yesterday I treated myself to a guilty pleasure that I allow myself only once or twice a year: a Steak Sandwich. It's not particularly healthy; but man, it's really, really delicious. Nothing fancy. I just slice some grilled steak and add thinly sliced onions, tomato and lettuce. I prefer toasted sourdough bread, coated with mayonaisse and horseradish.

When I married Kathleen, she didn’t make or eat sandwiches. For some reason, she didn’t consider them “real food.” After trying out some of my concoctions over the years, she'll eat sandwiches now. She even likes my steak sandwich, I think partially because I told her this story.

When I was 22, I had the opportunity to attend the Army’s Ranger School, where I learned all my best combat skills. The experience was so physically and mentally demanding that I later thought my year in Viet Nam was like a daily walk in the park.

During the Georgia mountain phase in late November, 1967, we were on a 13-day patrol. In a typical day we would navigate all day and all night through the worst kind of terrain, no matter what the weather, carrying 50-pound packs and weapons, and then attack an objective just before dawn. If we didn't get lost, there might be time for 2-3 hours sleep, usually on the cold ground under a poncho curled up next to my Ranger buddy. Food was dropped by helicopter at prearranged coordinates; one day’s rations consisted of the equivalent of a can of beans, four crackers and a candy bar. It was an ordeal, and towards the end of that patrol, I discovered I was hallucinating.

You get the picture. We were deprived of all creature comforts. So when we had time to rest, guess what my buddies and I talked about. No, it was never about women or sex. The only thing we ever talked about was the food we were going to eat once we were back home. Each of us described in detail a favorite food. When it was my turn, I described a steak sandwich. We did this over and over again in a kind of verbal ritual.

After graduating from Ranger School, the first thing I did was to find a restaurant in the Atlanta airport. Still in uniform, I walked up to the waitress and asked her if she could make me a steak sandwich. I described it to her exactly the way I had described it to my buddies so many times before out in the boonies. "There's no steak sandwich on the menu," she said, but I gently laid my hand on her shoulder and told her it was important. She gave me a look, and then she disappeared into the kitchen. What she produced was exactly what I had imagined. I ate it with great relish.

On the plane I was served a hot meal, which I immediately consumed. I asked the stewardess if she had any more meals, and she brought me another. Flying was a lot different back then. I arrived in El Paso at midnight and was greeted by my wife, whom I hadn’t seen in three months. She said, “What are you up for?” I considered my options and said, “Let’s go get something to eat.” I ate a big breakfast at Denny’s. She didn’t seem that hungry, so I ate most of hers, too. The next morning, I ate another big breakfast. I had a lot of catching up to do in the food department.

Ever since, I've never been late for dinner. I'm blessed to be married to a beautiful woman who thinks cooking is a form of creativity and fun. But every now and then, I've got to have my steak sandwich.

Today’s FORTUNE COOKIE

See your adversity as small, and your self-pity will become small, too.

Your fortune will come from this strength within you: Composure.

Why I leave Fortune Cookies...

Soul Mates

In my work with the MindFrames personality test, I've developed a way to compare personalities that describes the potential for compatibility in a love relationship. After over two years of research, development and testing, we're about to publish "Compatibility Forecast," a special report for dating couples.

Two people may be compatible—or incompatible—in many ways, such as education, career, money, cultural background, lifestyle, sexual preferences, family, friends, values, beliefs and personality. Personality is a huge factor, because it has to do with who we are—how we think and act.

When people have similar personalities, harmony comes naturally. A couple will often think, say and do similar things. The relationship will feel comfortable. Their behavior will seem familiar, making it easy to understand each other. That doesn’t mean they have to have identical personalities to be compatible. In fact, a partnership may be richer if two people are both similar and different. When partners think and act differently, they bring new perspectives, new strengths and new sources of joy to the relationship. The key is to cherish the differences, to reach out with patience and understanding to accept, value and affirm them.

While it's true that any two people can sustain a long-term loving relationship regardless of their differences, it’s a whole lot easier when there’s a fair amount of common ground and interesting differences that enrich the relationship. The problem is, it’s hard to sustain a harmonious relationship when there are extreme or many personality differences.

I thought it would be interesting to compare Kathleen's personality with mine, using MindFrames, and she said it's OK with her if I include it in today's blog.

Most of my thought and behavior patterns involve Logic, Insight and Proactivity (see the three symbols in my framicon below. My lead mindframe, Logic, is the one with the black dot).

This means I usually think before I say or do anything. Leading with Logic, I analyze my experience for meaning and cause-and-effect. I ask "why" a lot. I plan what I do. Then I use my imagination to explore possibilities and alternatives, and I consult my intuition to validate my judgment. When I speak, it's often to explain. When I do something, I want my actions to support my priorities.

Kathleen’s personality comfort zone includes four mindframes: Insight, Logic, Charisma and Sensitivity.

Like me, she usually churns things over in her mind before doing or saying anything. In her case, she leads with Insight, meaning that her first reaction is an intuitive understanding of things. She has a very creative mind, and she validates her ideas with logical analysis. Outwardly, she doesn’t act like me at all. She expresses her feelings and concerns vividly. Her big strength is building meaningful relationships; she enjoys helping people whenever she can. She’s also very persuasive and plays a leadership role in her favorite charities.

Our common ground is significant: we share the same first two mindframes, Insight and Logic (the yellow and blue circles, respectively, in our framicons). This means both of us quite comfortably follow the lead of the other: she follows my Logic, and I follow her Insight. Also, her first three mindframes are conceptual in nature, and so are mine. In discussions, we don’t always start in the same place, but we usually end in the same place.

Both Insight and Logic are internal, so we have about the same need for private time and socializing, although Kathleen takes the lead there with her Charisma. Her strong Sensitivity is the source of her interest in the natural world: birds, butterflies, fish, plants, etc. Early on, I decided that these two characteristics would enrich my life, so I've been a willing participant. Most of my new friends are people she has introduced me to. She's the reason I'm interested in SCUBA diving, birdwatching and gardening, all highly perceptual activities that balance my intellectual tendencies and feed my creativity.

For Kathleen, my need to be proactive is not a big stretch for her. I’ve contributed more purpose, focus and organization in her life. Maybe that’s why she says, “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” Well, one of the reasons anyway.

In summary, we’re "soul mates" because we’re like each other in important ways, and we both bring differences to the party that each one needs and appreciates. None of my strengths is a big stretch for her, and visa-versa. Also, it has been a great help to know precisely what each other's personality strengths are; and because of my work, we've thoroughly understood and consciously tried to apply the principle of "cherish the differences." Over the years, I'm convinced that this "relationship awareness" has helped us maintain a peaceful, respectful attitude during quite a few "family discussions" (as Kathleen likes to call them).

All of which is an intellectual way of saying that I can’t imagine living my life without her.

Today’s FORTUNE COOKIE

Embrace the unfamiliar, and empty spaces will be filled.

Your fortune will come from this strength within you: Acceptance.

Why I leave Fortune Cookies...

J. J. Redick's "Gift"

I am beside myself. Last night, 3rd-ranked Duke lost at home to a tough, 22nd-ranked Georgia Tech team, 76-68. It was Duke's first loss at home in the last 42 games. Tech got their 21st win and Duke's record went to 24 wins and 4 losses. Now Duke has only one more game to play in the regular season, a home game Saturday night against archrival North Carolina. After that comes the ACC Tournament, then the NCAA Tournament. That means bring your best game and win or go home. This is March Madness, my favorite time of year.

Many fans feel that the Dukies get more than their share of wins. That's the way I like it. Their coach, Mike Krzyzewski, and I were cadets at West Point at the same time, and I earned my graduate degrees at Duke. The Blue Devils have an extraordinary basketball program. During the past 17 years, they’ve gone to the Final Four eight times, winning three National Championships (1991, 1992, 2001). They’ve won the ACC Championship an unprecedented five straight times going into this year’s tournament.

This year, one of the bright spots is sophomore shooting guard, J. J. Redick. As over-the-top announcer Dick Vitale says, “This kid is for real, baby. He can flat shoot the rock. Hey, all you young guys out there, look at that form! Watch how he gets ready to shoot before he gets to his spot, then plants his feet and squares up perfectly, every time. Count it, baby, nothing but nylon!” Redick has been compared to Larry Bird and Reggie Miller, two of the greatest shooters of all time. NBA shooting coach Dave Hopla says, "He's the best shooter in the college game by far. His footwork, finish, rotation. It's flawless; it really is."

All aspects of his game are outstanding, and by now every college coach knows this. A goal of every opposing team is to “stop Redick,” so J. J. has to fight for every open shot he gets. Even so, he has made 45% of his attempts beyond the three-point line. If you’ve ever tried to make a shot from that distance yourself, you know how astounding that percentage is. At the free-throw line he is, quite literally, automatic (97% - the highest free-throw percentage in NCAA history).

How did he get so good? On February 22, 2004, the Newport News Daily Press featured a great article by David Teel, which answers that question. Raised in the country near Roanoke, Virginia, J. J. taught himself the fundamentals. Inspired by the great shooters he saw on television, from the age of 11 he practiced shooting jump shots at the basket his dad mounted over their uneven gravel driveway. Making jump shots was his passion, and he worked on perfecting his form at all hours, day or night, in rain, ice and snow. In junior high, he broke his right (shooting) wrist in a pick-up game. This forced him to learn how to shoot with his other hand. Before his injury was fully healed, he broke his left wrist. Instead of giving up, he learned to play ball and shoot with just his right hand. By the time both wrists were healed, his technique and shooting hand were stronger than ever.

Though only 20 years old, Redick has earned enormous self-assurance. He has said, “The most important thing to being a shooter, or scorer period, is confidence. You just have to have a certain air and swagger about you. Be willing to take big shots, want to take big shots, live with the consequences.” It’s also consistency. “He shoots it the same way every time," says Maryland coach Gary Williams. “Whether he's wide open or somebody's on him pretty good, he's not going to change his shot.”

So J. J. is part of the reason I’m such a Duke fan. When Larry Bird was raining threes, I was a Celtics fan. During the Michael Jordan era, I was a Bulls fan. Even during his prime, Bird would shoot baskets for hours, alone in the court he had built next to his house. I love to watch people accomplish great things, and I know their “gift” wasn’t given to them. They earned their skills and accomplishments by investing more in self-improvement than most people can even imagine.

Put another way, I want to write as well as J. J. Redick shoots jumpers. He inspires me to pay the price. As young as he is, his example encourages me that if I do the work, someday I'll master the craft.

Today’s FORTUNE COOKIE

You did not choose your parents, but you will choose who their child will be.

Your fortune will come from this strength within you: Self-improvement.

Why I leave Fortune Cookies...

Why I Exercise

A few days ago after a 40-minute run on the treadmill, I sat in an outdoor spa while the hot jets massaged my back and shoulders. I love to finish a workout this way, but that night the experience was especially delightful: a steady drizzle of cool rain was falling, and a fine mist was rising on the water's surface.

I’ve been working out regularly for decades, but don't get me wrong—at no time in my life have I ever thought of myself as an athlete. In junior high I played basketball, but I was too small to make the high school team. As a senior, I was captain of the high school golf team, and on the wrestling team I was a back-up for the conference champion in the 145-pound weight class. Translation: I never got to compete.

At West Point I didn’t play a varsity sport; but every semester each cadet was required to take a physical education course and participate in an intramural sport. After Viet Nam, I took up tennis and jogging. I became an avid long distance runner, putting in 50 miles a week. In 1984 I ran the Marine Corps Marathon, something I decided I would never do again. I was in great shape back then. At the age of 40 I could run a mile in 5:30.

Over the years I’ve tapered off, but I still do something physical for an hour at least five times a week. I almost never do the same thing. Today I did my upper-body physical therapy routine and a fast walk. Sometimes I swim three-quarters of a mile. Sometimes I jog my favorite three-mile route to the causeway and back. Sometimes I do a fast morning walk in the park with Kathleen, and we count bird species as we go. “Brown pelican, that makes nineteen.”

Next January I’ll be 60 years old. I’m aware that some people will think of me as an old man. Well, I don’t feel that way. But at this age I definitely honor the principle of achieving slow, steady progress. I know how easy it is to injure myself. Two years ago I was doing some heavy lifting, and I thought, “I can do that.” I caused painful injuries in both shoulders, which took forever to heal. If I don't do my stretches religiously, I get lower back pain. I focus on variety, spontaneity, and feeling good. I also take a break from it once a week, sometimes twice, with no guilt. If I travel and it’s hard to get my workouts in, I don’t worry about it. I just get back into the flow when I return.

I think my work in the area of weight control, exercise and nutrition is guided by an important principle: it’s not a project or a program; it’s a lifestyle. It has taken me years to learn what I know now and to establish my habits, and I’m still learning. My goal has always been to enjoy the way exercise makes me feel and to stay healthy. Anyone can begin this journey at any time, and my advice would be to start at your own level, make slow, steady progress and stay with it permanently.

Feel strong. Avoid pain. Postpone death. So far it seems to be working.

Today’s FORTUNE COOKIE

Make yourself miserable or make yourself strong—the amount of work will be the same.

Your fortune will come from this strength within you: Self-improvement.

Why I leave Fortune Cookies...

Big Fish

When I was younger, I aspired to write a novel. My lifelong love of literature fed this desire, and in 1977 I completed a Ph.D. in English at Duke University. Unfortunately, my military career kept me so busy I had no time or energy for writing fiction. I rationalized that I was gathering material, and indeed I was. Along the way, however, I discovered that I enjoyed writing nonfiction. I found it satisfying to say something useful and true with utter simplicity and clarity. If I could say it so that an eight-year-old could understand it, then practically anyone would enjoy reading it, even a CEO. It was a big relief when I gave up my ambition to write a novel. I would write for a larger audience to communicate things of importance directly.

That quest is still my passion, but writing for this blog site has rekindled some of the old spark to write creatively. Several of my "blog buddies" show real talent in storytelling: ripples, chantlady, older and growing, laughing:knees, Cassandra and others. Their example has been like a gust of wind on that spark. The other day, a story played itself out in my mind from beginning to end, like a movie. I captured it in notes, and my mind keeps coming back to it.

Last night, Kathleen and I saw a wonderful movie called "Big Fish," starring Albert Finney, Jessica Lange, Billy Crudup, Danny DeVito and Ewan McGregor. It's a masterfully produced, well-acted movie about a lot of important things. For me, it was mostly about storytelling. The central figure is a dying father who had always told wildly entertaining, impossible stories about his life. In flashbacks, we get to experience some of those wonderful stories. However, the father never seemed to reveal the mundane facts of his life, and now that he is dying, his only son wants to know "the real man" behind the fiction. The movie itself is a tour-de-force of storytelling, both in its complexity and its fidelity to the basic elements of storytelling. If anyone reading this post aspires to write fiction, I think you'll find this movie inspiring.

For me, Job #1 right now is a book about encouragement, and I'm definitely on a roll! Other exciting follow-on projects await their turn. Now, let's see...there's a professional assasin, a family man who wants to understand his victim's story before completing the job; and there's the target, a wealthy old widow whose real estate development project will be an ecological disaster; and there's the client, who....

Shame on You, AOL

I apologize for the negative tone of this post. It's my spirit to focus on and celebrate what is good and beautiful. But I know that life encompasses both joy and pain, problems and solutions, setbacks and encouragements, good and bad, life and death. Recently I've had to deal with something so cold and exploitive that I'm outraged about it. And it could very easily happen to you, too. So I'm reporting this nasty piece of business here to throw up a warning flag.

For several years, I've worked at my computer with a free program called AOL Instant Messenger (AIM). It's a brilliant application. Yahoo and MSN have their own versions, and there may be others. Using AIM, I've had real-time interchanges with four people at the same time that have empowered my productivity. I depend on instant messenging more than I depend on the telephone.

Recently, AOL and WildTangent, a computer game company, formed an alliance. That's nice. Computer games make up a huge entertainment market, far bigger than motion pictures. Maybe the alliance will help AOL make money.

Unfortunately, here's what AOL did next. They imbedded WildTangent adware in a recent AIM update, which installed an executable adware program with dozens of files without telling me. In case you don't know, adware/spyware are programs installed on your computer, usually without permission, to tell marketers about your computing and web-browsing habits, so they can send you certain kinds of ads in spam and popups to sell you stuff. Great.

I discovered the presence of WildTangent because it triggered my Spy Sweeper and Spybot protection programs. They quarantined it, and I deleted it. And that's when the really nasty stuff happened.

First, WildTangent re-installed itself within a few minutes. Apparently, AIM had also installed a separate auto-reinstaller program (not perceived as part of WildTangent), which re-installs the whole adware/spyware program no matter how many times you remove it. I'd never seen anything like that before.

I tried formally "uninstalling" the program using Add/Remove Programs in my Windows Control Panel. Three WildTangent programs were listed there, but its creators had done something to the programs so that Add/Remove Programs could not uninstall them! I had never seen THAT before, either.

I searched on "AOL WildTangent" on Google to find out if others were having this problem. They were. Message boards were buzzing about an "AOL-WildTangent virus." Some recommended manual fixes. I tried these procedures, but WildTangent soon re-installed itself.

For some time, all this activity--the adware interacting with its host, my spyware detectors searching for it, WildTangent re-installing itself--kept my computer so busy that it slowed down my work applications noticeably. My computer was rarely "quiet." This invasion of my privacy and my reduced productivity were unacceptable. I tried everything I knew, including uninstalling AIM. Nothing worked.

Finally, my son the software genius sent me a program that manually disables auto-installers. I did what he said, and it seems to have worked. My program has been peaceful ever since. I've got my fingers crossed.

I have permanently deleted AIM. I will never install it again. My company is using MSN Messenger now. This is the most insidious thing I've ever come across. WildTangent created an adware/spyware program that's almost impossible to get rid of! That invades my privacy and disrupts my computer's efficiency! And AOL deliberately infected my computer with it! Without telling me! America Online! Judging from the traffic on the Internet, I assume millions of computers have been infected.

So I've made this the subject of my post in order to warn you. If you don't use AIM, you're probably OK, unless other WildTangent partners are doing the same thing. If you do use AIM, don't download the updates. Or better yet, I recommend that you don't use AIM. Or maybe you can still use AIM because you're protected by a firewall or something. But I wouldn't count on it. Good luck. And tell your friends.

The Skele-Me!

I happen to know that today is the birthday of Teller, the author of the Skelecosm blog. In his honor, I'm posting this cool feature I got from his blog. According to his two-question test, here's the "trading card" that most closely represents what I'm all about:

Get your Skeleton Trading Card here!

LOL! These skeletons are funny and really different!

Happy Birthday

Yesterday marked my 59th birthday. Feeling good. Feeling fine. Still jogging and swimming and pumping iron and eating the delicious high-health meals Kathleen makes. But my attitude towards my birthday is a little outside the box.

My thinking on the subject: "On my 59th birthday, I'm only one day older than the day before." Not one year older, just one day older. I don't want a special celebration, and I don't expect birthday presents. This day is special, very special. But to me, it's not more special because I was born on this day 59 years ago. It's special because I'm alive and experiencing it, appreciating it. The day itself is my present. And I'd like to have this present every day, not just once a year. Sometimes friends give me cards or gifts anyway, and I appreciate the love, but I tell them, "Hey, if you want to give me something, for heaven's sake don't wait for my birthday!"

I know my attitude is a little different, but at this age I'm entitled to be eccentric, to wander around outside the box if I want to.

Displays of Light

Christmas has come and gone, but our holiday lights are still on display. My wife Kathleen loves all displays of light, including fireworks. New Year's Eve, our street will probably be treated with yard light displays AND fireworks!

I know that almost everyone loves fireworks, but I don’t care for them at all. Last July 4th we went to see what the county announced would be “the most spectacular fireworks display ever.”

We arrived early and set up our folding chairs in the park for an unobstructed view of the show. It was the end of a typical Independence Day: hot and sunny weather, band music, and families picnicking and setting off fireworks. Lightning flashed in the gray distance, too far away to threaten the celebration.

In the twilight before the show, a young man set off rockets while a crowd stood around watching. I wondered how much these people had to drink and worried that a rocket might accidentally veer and injure someone. The sudden sound of firecrackers reminded me of my next younger brother. When he was a kid he bought the largest firecrackers he could find and used them to blow up toys. One day he constructed a makeshift cannon from an abandoned piece of sewer pipe. He sealed one end with rocks and mud and stuck it in the ground at an angle. Then he dropped a lighted firecracker down the pipe, followed by a projectile. When the pipe exploded, he was injured by the shrapnel. Decades later, he died from gunshot wounds in Miami.

The fireworks display was indeed a spectacular show. During the furious climax, a series of loud booms triggered a memory of July 4, 1969, in Vietnam. Not far from the village where my advisor team was camped, a small American unit was engaged in a fierce battle. Pinned down by the Viet Cong, the night ambush patrol called for reinforcements. Soon elements of a mechanized infantry battalion rushed to join them. Artillery and gunships pounded the area during the night.

We watched the battle from a safe distance, about a half-mile away. I thought then that no Fourth of July celebration could ever match this display. The sight and sound of artillery exploding in the night was amazing. Then came Puff the Magic Dragon, the cargo aircraft with a Vulcan machine gun mounted in its open side door. As the plane circled the battle area, the gun poured hundreds of large-caliber bullets per minute into the ground with a ferocious growl of anger and death. Tracer rounds created a visible river of fire. After about two hours, the unit withdrew and the night was quiet. The next day, I sent a patrol to assess the damage. All the structures and the livestock in the tiny village were destroyed. They found no human bodies, however. I assumed the villagers fled before the devastation.

For most Americans, fireworks mean celebration and fun. When a thousand points of light fill the sky along with a big boom, they’re thrilled with the spectacle of it—a completely sensory experience. They associate the smell of gunpowder with hot dogs and watermelon. Maybe some of the observers have patriotic feelings about “the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air.” To me, though, fireworks aren’t fun, beautiful or inspiring. My problem is that they remind me of real bullets and real rockets. I’d rather watch a display of lightning any day.

A Special, Spiritual Day

It's Christmas eve, and most businesses, including my company and my wife's bank, will close early so people can celebrate with their families. I love the time off, and we Americans certainly go all out for this holiday.

It's an incredible thing. Of course woven through every aspect of Christmas is the commercial imperative to Buy! Buy! But at the core is Jesus, the hope of life everlasting. As I approach my later years, I look about me with amazement at the great human need for a message that life will go on after death. Such Good News!

Quite some time ago I decided that the good news was right in front of me, all around me. Spirituality became an exercise in noticing it, appreciating it and affirming it. Each day, if I fail to do this, I will waste my life.

I just finished the book, My Losing Season, by Pat Conroy, a terrific memoir about basketball. In it Conroy colors his story with thoughts like this: “In my lifetime, nothing has been clearer or more unremitting than the inflexible and man-eating current of time….It is this hard, inexorable passage of time that, I believe, is the one great surprise in every human life.”

The suprise is how real it gets as you get older. Conroy and I are exactly the same age. While I was a cadet at West Point, he was a cadet at the Citadel. It surprised my mother, too, who passed away this year. A devout Mormon, she was perplexed by her approaching death and would talk about it as if it had taken her by surprise.

If only we could have appreciated the brevity and preciousness of life when we were young! But most young people feel immortal; it's difficult for them to imagine themselves being old or approaching death. With so much time left, they don't sense how quickly time is rushing by. And they don't want to think about it. But of course eventually they will. They will age, and aging has a way of catching you by surprise.

Today I'll take time off along with everyone else. It will be a special, spiritual day for me. I hope it is for you, too.

The Mighty Duke Blue Devils

My beloved Duke basketball team beat Texas yesterday by 28 points, a good win for Duke. A Duke victory always puts me in a buoyant mood. Texas is a big, talented, deep top-ten team that starts several legitimate NBA prospects. Duke has been playing phenomenal defense lately, totally shutting down an excellent Michigan State team a week earlier; but I wondered if they’d be able to contain the Longhorns, who play excellent defense themselves.

Here’s a euphemism for you: I love college basketball. Ha! My wife Kathleen says it’s my religion. I look forward to Duke’s first game sometime in the summer and browse the Internet for news about high school recruiting prospects. I subscribe to every sports package I can to ensure I see every televised game. I enter the game times on my wife’s PDA, so she can schedule social events AROUND them. I follow all the ACC teams and study the teams that rise and fall in the top ten rankings.

I wear my Duke sweatshirt all day before a game, my only superstition. I usually gain 15 pounds from November to April (gotta have my snacks and beer), and after The Big Dance I work through the post-season blues by working out to lose the extra weight.

Duke’s team this year has several gifted sophomores, most of them former High School Americans. 6’ 9” Sheldon (“The Landlord”) Williams is a strong physical presence under the boards. Duke also starts 6’ 10” sophomore Shavlik Randolph, who stuffed his face and lifted weights all summer and is now 245. When they play together, these two guys can score and dominate.

Duke plays two seniors, Chris Duhon and Nick Horvath. Duhon is a nominee for Wooden NCAA player of the year, and he has developed into a magnificent leader. Horvath (6’ 10” - 240) is experienced, healthy and stronger than ever but so far hasn’t had much playing time. Duhon’s backup is sophomore Sean Dockery, a flashy defensive player who can start and score. He’s amazingly fast, and this year he’s gaining control of his game.

Our two shooting guards will probably play in the NBA. 6' 3" Junior Daniel Ewing was last year’s MVP of the ACC tournament. He’s a deadly 3-point shooter and a quick, graceful slasher. 6' 4" sophomore J. J. Redick’s 3-point shot is even more deadly. He’ll shoot from anywhere behind the arc—all he needs is an open shot. Last night, he was 4 for 5. A feared shooter, he’s constantly in motion and draws a lot of fouls. He shot 93% from the free-throw line last year, and after nine games this year he is 100%.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot our freshman, 6’ 9” Luol Deng. He is so good my only hope is that he doesn’t go to the NBA at the end of this season. He’s still considered the number one freshman in college basketball. He plays big minutes, can play any position on the court and leads the Duke team in scoring. As talented as the Duke team is, Deng is considered by all the players, even Duhon, to be THE MAN.

In case you couldn’t tell, I’m a fanatic about Duke. A huge irony is that I was oblivious to Duke basketball in the early seventies when I was a graduate student there. Back then I was obsessed with English and American literature. All I can say is, it’s an enormous delight to be this passionate about something.

I’m aware that the Duke Blue Devils are loved by many but despised by more. My brothers and sisters in Kansas are just as fanatical about the Jayhawks, and they hate Duke. Actually, I root for Kansas (a team that may go all the way this year), except when they play Duke. Last year in the NCAA tournament, a superior Kansas team eliminated Duke.

Duke looks strong (and getting stronger with each game) coming into the ACC conference schedule, but so do most of the ACC teams. Georgia Tech, Wake Forest, Florida State and Virginia are still undefeated. North Carolina is 6-1, having lost last night to Wake Forest in triple overtime. It’s going to be that kind of year. I can hardly wait. Enjoy!

More Was Better

Last night I made my contribution to the multi-billion-dollar Lord of the Rings enterprise. I went with my pals B. and A., with whom we do "dinner and a movie" whenever a good one comes along. They love the Hobbit movies more than any movies ever made.

I must admit I own the DVDs of the first two in the series. My criterion for buying a DVD is, will I watch it at least two more times in the future? I love a movie that amazes me, and these movies amaze me. "Lord of the Rings: Return of the King" has some battle scenes that are astounding to watch. It just doesn't seem possible that they could be imagined and filmed, computer-generated graphics or not. Some people may think three and a half hours is too long; but to a fan, more is better. Yes, there were some slow or maudlin parts, but so what?

In another era, I loved all the Alien movies for the same reason. Plus the alien seemed like a plausible alien, really nasty and not at all like humans (not like Star Trek aliens, which seem more like Princeton graduates than alien life forms), and the spaceship technology seemed plausible (not all this warp drive stuff). So I was first in line to order the Alien Quadrilogy DVDs when they came out.

I also love movies that portray the world as it is. For this reason I loved "Mystic River." Clint Eastwood directed what I think is the best western movie ever ("Unforgiven"), and now he's given us what I think is the best murder mystery ever.

I really love this time of year. Hurricane season is over, the muggy weather is past, all-new episodes of my favorite shows are back, college basketball is in full swing, and the good movies are appearing in the theaters. Life is good.