Sun, 7 Oct 2012, 08:13 PM (-06:00)
He leads a team. She’s a contractor on it. They were talking in an office behind a closed glass door. But their meeting was over, and they slide back the door as they walked out into the big room with the rest of us.
“How old are your kids,” he asked her.
She smiled at the question. “Fourteen,” she said.
He smiled broadly. “Mine are four and almost two.”
It was then that his face really lit up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He swiped in once and held it out.
She took it and looked at the pictures of his children, and she said something back.
He nodded and chuckled and took back his phone. She sat down at her desk. He walked around to the other side and sat down at his. And they got back to work.
This is an amazing place. I told my mom once that when I took this job that I had died and gone to heaven. It’s true. Every day I find another reason why it’s true.
Fri, 21 Sep 2012, 11:09 PM (-06:00)
Zerah and Manni walked to the cliff, beyond the grass out onto the jagged rocks. It was night, and it was dark, but the two of them knew this place well. They found a low place beside a boulder where they would be out of the wind. They sat down and let their legs dangle over the edge.
Several minutes passed. Neither spoke.
“So do you hear it?” Zerah asked.
Manni cocked her head and stared into the blackness. She turned her head to the right and then slowly to the left.
“I don’t hear anything. Just the waves.”
“Listen,” said Zerah. “It’s over there.”
She reached up and turned Manni’s chin back to the right.
“Listen. There it goes again. It’s a dog I tell you.”
Manni sat up straining to hear. The wind blew. The distant waves crashed. But she heard nothing.
Thu, 20 Sep 2012, 08:29 PM (-06:00)
I saw Endeavour hitching a ride west this morning.
Standing in the wet grass on Auditorium Shores, we spotted it approaching from the east out of the sun. They had clearance to fly low at 1500 feet. With landing lights on, shining brightly thru the morning haze, a T-38 trailing slightly behind and off to one side.
The 747’s turbofans whined loudly as they passed over downtown. It was a single pass, flying directly over the capitol and then climbing back to altitude as they passed behind a flagpole and into the hills on its way to El Paso and then to California.
I saw Endeavour hitching a ride this morning. And that will certainly be the last one I see in the air.
Sat, 8 Sep 2012, 02:19 PM (-06:00)
I remember a time, years and years and years ago.
Something had made me angry. Made me furious. I can’t remember today what it was. But I can taste the fury that was coursing thru my brain.
You came into my room. In the midst of the storm. You sat me down on the edge of my bed. And you turned and quietly gave me a very long hug. With your arms around your sobbing son. With your hand behind his head.
And the storm passed. It was all better. Whatever it was.
Wed, 5 Sep 2012, 08:14 PM (-06:00)
When I unzipped my duffle bag and started to unpack, it was immediately evident I had a problem. A lonely pair of shoes staring back at me—shoes and no socks.
Well, whatcha gonna do? I put my stuff in the locker and went upstairs to run. I had my flip flops, after all. I’d just wear them to work.
I mean, there are folks at work in flip flops all the time. And tee shirts. And shorts. And hippie ribbons in their hair. There are remote controlled helicopters. There are nerf guns. There is beer in the fridge after 5:00 on Fridays. Oh for heavens sake, I can wear flip flops.
In the 9:00 status meeting, I walked in and sat down.
“First time in my career, guys,” I said, pointing to my naked toes.
They looked at me, waiting for me to finish my sentence.
“First time I’ve ever worn flip flops to work.”
Now KK knows how old I am. He looked at me, confused.
“You mean, the first time since you started here?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve never worn flip flops or sandals to work. Ever.”
His eyes were wide with disbelief.
What a liberating day it was.
Mon, 3 Sep 2012, 08:32 PM (-06:00)
And so we headed south. We had gear in the back of the station wagon. We had a load strapped on the car rack. And we had two dogs excited to be going along.
A week ago would have been better for this. In was cool then in comparison to these 100 degree days. But we had reservations, so we headed south in the heat to Palmetto State Park.
As we passed thru Lockhart, the skies darkened. In the southwest the clounds were streaming rain, turning the black sky white. In the southeast menacing teeth dipped below the cloud ceiling, threatening wind and rain. But our route was taking us between the two, and we hoped that the campground might not be drenched.
But just outside of Luling the road turned to the east, taking us directly into the blackest of the black.
The rain came sometimes in torrents sometimes drizzle, and there were places where it had clearly not rained at all. As it turned out, the park we dry when we got there, although we eyed the sky nervously and set up our tent quickly, hoping to beat the rain—rain that never came.
The clouds parted. The sky turned blue. And the sun came out. Not only did we beat the rain, but the rest of the afternoon and evening were cool, with temperatures dipping into the upper-80s. Ah yes. The upper-80s. Perfect weather for camping.
Sat, 1 Sep 2012, 10:09 AM (-06:00)
The ice chests have ice in them. Trudy has begun transferring the foodstuffs from the fridge. And the dogs both know that something’s going on.
That Guinness should know is perhaps not surprising. He’s twelve years old and has seen it all before. So in the interest of ensuring that we don’t leave without him, he shadows our every step. (Indeed, he lies at my feet as we speak.)
But that Izzy should know is altogether different. She’s only one. How would she know ice chests? How would she know packing up the food? How would she know that we’re about to leave? Yet know she does. (And indeed, she is glued to the floor in the kitchen next to the big ice chests, and nothing will entice away.)
They both know something’s going on, but what they don’t know is that they are both … going camping with us.
Sun, 26 Aug 2012, 03:40 PM (-06:00)
I was sitting there on the gym floor. Cooling down. Thoughts inward. Zoning out before going to work.
“Good morning, Mr. David!”
I looked up, and there was Jimmy smiling down at me. He had just stepped off the Bosu balance trainer and was handing the barbells to Johnny.
“Your turn!” he said to me, pointing to the blue half-ball that Johnny was climbing onto.
A week before, they got me up on one, and it felt as if my ankles were going to roll out of my shoes and I was going to plant my face on the floor.
“No thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m done for the day.”
He smiled and pointed to the blue dome.
“Come on.”
I was silent for a moment.
“I tell you what,” I said. “I’ll start doing it with you on Friday mornings.”
“You’ll be here Friday?” he asked, well aware that I wasn’t at the gym on Fridays.
“I’ll be here on Friday.”
And so now on Fridays I do the Bosu balance trainer with Jimmy and Johnny, my seventy-something training buddies.
Sat, 25 Aug 2012, 03:46 PM (-06:00)
The greatness of a generation. The attention of the world holding their breath. The first man on the moon.
Time passed. We grow old. One by one, the greatness passes.
RIP Neil Armstrong.
Thu, 23 Aug 2012, 07:46 PM (-06:00)
1. Watching You
“I’ve been watching you,” Kashif said.
He stood up from his desk and walked over to me.
“I’ve been watching how you take notes during the day. I need to do that.”
I looked down at my spiral notebook and looked up at him and smiled. I was flattered that he noticed.
2. Down There
“Does anyone have any tape?” I asked, popping my head above the glass.
I had a little scrap of paper that I wanted to tape to my daily log.
Sanjay looked up from the other side of the room and pointed with his finger.
“Down there,” he said. “In that … you know … copy room.”
The room with the paper clips and pens and spiral notebooks. The room where no one goes.