I Won the "2010 Erica Award"!

My acceptance speech is below. Completely unedited and uncut (because I don't know how) and unfortunately, unscripted!

My speech is garbled because it was a BELOW ZERO wind chill, not because I'd been swilling! Oh yeah, turn up your volume, the wind was drowning out my speech.

Graziella Dutreuille, a Child of Haiti

In the early 90's many Haitian children found themselves in tent cities on Guatanamo Bay without their parents. Many of these kids eventually found their way to relatives within the United States, and some just managed to get the United States, one of these children was Graziella Dutreuille.

I came to know her through Nortel Networks' affiliation with the local high schools, providing part-time employment to students, having hired her for my own department. Sadly, I witnessed first hand the affects of bigotry based solely on one's perceived lack of proficiency with the English language. Initially from a manager who came from the mid-west, who himself was adopted at an early age. Lastly, from a manager whose own family escaped to the United States when the Shah of Iran was run out of the country.

Graziella, a very wise, intelligent, talented individual who had to fight for survival even at Nortel, a company rife with multiple nationalities. A young lady so determined to make her way in the United States, that she lied about her age for the sole purpose of getting a high school diploma from the US, with dreams of obtaining a college diploma in International Relations.

I was taken aback when I learned that she was considerably older than the age she went by and perceived to be. However, as she confessed to me, she knew that those under the age of 18 had the greatest chances of surviving in the United States. She never asked for hand outs, only assistance. I need a bed, I need a small refrigerator, does anyone have an old sofa they want to get rid of. Who hasn't heard this from any college aged-student?

From my internet searches I believe Graziella is in still in the Dallas metroplex, however, I know the majority of her family remained behind in Haiti, a habitually poverty stricken nation, but I'm saddened that I'm not finding actual links that lead me to think that she has succeeded to the degree that she had hoped. So with that, I'm sharing an essay she gave me written on a typewriter on Feb. 14, 1999.

I hope you all take a moment to reflect upon her experience.
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"The mind is its own self can make a heaven of hell and a hell of heaven".

This quote is a good example that states that life is what one makes of it. We can feed our thoughts into believing life is a wonderful place-heaven or a dreadful depressing Place-hell. My attitude of life reflects just this. At the age of 14, I left my country (Haiti) in a boat to come to America. However, my journey was not easy as I spent eight months in a military camp at Guatanamo Bay Cuba; it was my vision of hell, but my mind empowered me to believe there was a heaven on earth and this hope made the future a journey to success.

I for example, am a very strong young woman who is ambitious and will strive to make things in life happen for me. We face many obstacles on the way which discourage us but to visualize the light at the end of the tunnel and to make our time on earth a beautiful existence, we can try to create our own heaven on earth.

My dream of heaven did come true. America was everything I dreamed it to be, but one things was a problem. I did not speak the language. I had to learn a new language, which was very difficult for me. Some people thought I was stupid; few seemed to pay attention to me. I lived a life having no family here to count on and hoped that it would soon be over. I tried hard to get through life by doing the best. Each day of my life I dreamt of living without loneliness. Sometimes things happen in life and there is nothing you can do to change it, you have to stand up and make it better for yourself. It can be hell but remember to turn it into heaven!

I lost most of everything that a person could possibly dream of in life but it did not kill me and I do not feel sorry for what has happened. This makes the mind and soul stronger. I take the rest of what I have left and I try harder. I dream of becoming somebody and that's one of the reasons I left my country. At this time America was the only solution to my dream.

In order to find the way to success and create my own heaven, I have to know where I stand and where I want to be, this makes me see clearly and I stay positive about life. In school I began to dream, to dream like an American, after all, I am living with the American dream. It is hard to hope for something when you do not see a way of getting it but you have to have faith and pride that it will happen.

Heaven to me is happiness and contentment. I aspire to have the opportunity to attend college, have a good job, and create a happy home and family. I know I will be in "heaven" soon here on earth and it is because I train my mind to make that choice.

Written by Graziella Dutreuille
2/14/99
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There are many ways, we as Americans can help, but first and foremost, is to not judge others by appearance or speech. Instead, take only a moment to get to know even the slightest bit about the the person in our midst. You never know, it may be another child that has came to our country without any benefit of family to catch them when they may fall.

Peeping Tom!

Here I was minding my own business, trying to get the yard mowed before dark. I had a small window of opportunity as the previous days had either been rainy or blustery. Before I began, I happened to grab my camera hoping to catch pictures of the foliage in the woods that back up to our yard. Suddenly I heard neighbors hollering at me and I turned around to find this hot air balloon lightly crashing through the tops of the trees.

Below are a two videos of the event. Click the arrow to play.


The Eagle has landed!
All the neighbors came spilling into our yard. The video below is of our neighbor Diane. She's a remarkable woman, recently diagnosed with MS. You'll rarely meet a more positive person!

The balloon basket was filled with 7 people standing shoulder to shoulder when it landed. Overall it was a big adventure indeed. Unfortunately Roger was on his way home and missed most of it. He did get home in time to watch them pack up, which is no easy feat.


You can see on the far right that I've resumed the initial task at hand as the sun has already set.

Loren Davis (July 21, 1923 - July 26, 2009)

This past weekend our family lost a very special person. Roger's Uncle Loren passed away at the age of 86. Roger had a huge love and respect for Uncle Loren and was anxious for me to meet him have him teach me to water ski. I did meet him and I almost learned to water ski.

From the first time I met him, he seemed to always have a gleam and sparkle in his eyes, especially when telling stores. Aside from a love of story-telling, it was so apparent how much it meant for him to be around his family, whether it was his brothers' families, his own kids or his grandkids.

I feel so fortunate to have spent even limited time with him and know that we'll all miss him dearly!

Below is Uncle Loren's obituary, written by his son, Charles. I hope you take the time to read it to see what a remarkable individual we've lost.
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"Loren Everett Davis, formerly of Ozark, died on 26-July-2009 at 0700 hours at the Wildflower Retirement Center in Russellville, Arkansas, following a valiant battle with cancer. As he often liked to say, Loren lived several ‘different lives’ in his 86 years. The first one was that of rural farm boy, growing up during the depression in northwest Arkansas. Born 21-July-1923, in Batson, Arkansas, Loren was the second of the three sons of Mikel and Evangeline Wann Davis. He labored on the family farm outside the community of Oak Grove while attending a one-room mountain school house until he entered high school. He continued his education, employed part-time for room and board by an Ozark blacksmith, graduating from Ozark High School in 1940. He furthered his studies at Quachita Baptist College in Arkadelphia, paying his way while there working on the college farm. At Quachita, Loren met his wife of 54 years, Emma Louise Weeks. They married, left school, and moved to Wichita, Kansas, to work in the manufacturing of military aircraft and to attend the University of Wichita part-time. World War II was raging, and it was not long before Loren’s college ROTC unit was called to active duty.

His ‘second life’ was therefore a military one. After successfully completing Officers Candidate School, he found himself with General George Patton’s 3rd Army, first rushing to liberate the Americans surrounded by German forces at Bastogne, Belgium, and then proceeding into and across Germany and into Austria where he was decorated for valor and received the Purple Heart a few days before the end of the war.

After World War II ended, and while recovering from his wounds, Loren decided to pursue a military career as a ‘regular army’ officer, focusing upon civil affairs and civic action. By 1950, he was again in harm’s way with the 2nd Infantry Division at the Chongchon River in far northern Korea when the Chinese first intervened against UN forces, there-by launching a surprise attack with the 2nd Division taking the brunt. Among the few survivors of that onslaught, Loren led his unit to Inchon and was rescued by a US Navy ship there. In later years, when he recalled those events, he always referred to the Navy in exactly the same way, “the-Navy-God-Bless-them” as if that were one word, underscoring his gratitude for their role in his unit’s survival.

Loren was then assigned to Cheju-do as military governor for the Korean island. Cheju-do was a key supply base for US forces in Korea and, coincidentally, a center for Korean orphans. The orphanages there housed over 1600 children. Loren worked diligently to keep the orphanages supplied and protected during his time on Cheju-do.

After Korea, he was stationed in Oklahoma and Texas, and San Juan, Puerto Rico. In the mid-1950’s Loren was an active competitive rifleman and participated in the annual US Army National Matches in Camp Perry, Ohio, culminating in his being selected to the All Army Team in 1955. While in Oklahoma, Loren participated in ‘operation bootstrap,’ a program that made it possible to complete his college bachelor’s degree in military science at Oklahoma State University. Then, in the early 1960’s, he shipped out again to a war zone, this time in Southeast Asia. Based in Vientiane, Laos, he was engaged in civil affairs and psychological warfare aimed at convincing Laotians to side with the American-backed Royal Lao Forces rather that the communist-backed Pathet Lao, which was aligned with the Viet Cong. Having learned to speak Laotian, he visited villages all over the country travelling mostly by small plane with CIA pilots, helping villagers, and promoting the American viewpoint. Each of these was a dangerous mission, but he was very effective.

After Laos, Loren was an instructor at the Army’s Civil Affairs School in Augusta, Georgia, and conducted seminars at West Point. Completing 23 years in the military, Loren retired at the rank of Lt. Colonel. Today, there is a plaque honoring Col. Loren Davis in the Infantry Hall of Fame in Fort Benning, Georgia. This honor recognizes his being one of only sixteen World War II veterans to accumulate three Combat Infantry Badges, signifying his engagement in combat action in three different wars.

Following his military career, Loren began his ‘third life’ by first completing a doctorate at Oklahoma State University. In 1969, he joined the professorate at Texas A&M University – Kingsville. Dr. Davis became a full Professor of Psychology, a productive psychological researcher, and a beloved teacher of countless students – both graduate and undergraduate – during his 30 years at the university. Through the years, he tirelessly mentored numerous students as Thesis Advisor, helping many not only to complete their master’s degree thesis under his tutelage, but also helping them to present their research at academic conferences and publish their work in academic journals.

Throughout his 30 years in academia, Loren sponsored summer water ski camps at Lake Tenkiller in Oklahoma for family and friends. Often as many as thirty people would congregate to learn waterskiing tricks and enjoy the fellowship of the family. Loren has often stated that he taught hundreds of youngsters to water ski over the years. He was an incomparable boat driver and expert instructor for beginners and experts alike.

In 1996, Loren’s dear wife, Emma Louise, passed away after a long illness. To find one ‘soul mate’ is extraordinary, but Loren actually found two. His beloved second wife, the former Nancy Glaspell, was also recently widowed when they united, and together, they embarked upon Loren’s ‘fourth life’. Retired from his professorship in Texas, Loren and Nancy moved to Ozark, where he often said he could see the mountain upon which he was born from his front porch. He lived happily there with Nancy for twelve years."

Full Military Services were conducted at the National Cemetery in San Antonio, Texas

National Donut Day!

June 5th is National Donut Day and we couldn't live in a better part of the country to celebrate. New Englanders are mad for their Dunkin Donuts. The map above shows the locations near my office. SEVEN all within ONE mile.

However, its not about the donuts for these folks, its about the coffee. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, morning, noon and night. I've never seen anything like it before and it comes with its own lingo when ordering. I'm not talking about the fancy foreign language terms used by Starbucks. At Dunks' it's more like a loud-mouthed waitress yelling an order to the short order cook working in the back of a greasy spoon. Only the loud-mouthed waitress is instead a customer.

Back to map, if you're wondering where #6 is, its hiding behind #7. The two stores are located across the street from each other.

As an aside, this is actually the first I've heard of National Donut Day, but apparently the Donut/Doughnut is honored the first Friday of every June.

Speaking of Winding Roads

Roger buffed and polished each and every spoke on his Harley today. Click on the photo to see the detail. Sparkly!!!

Oh, and Guinness supervised!

And, they're off!

First, a very long overdue thank you to Tim (T.D.) Thornton who invited us to be his guests at Suffolk Downs as the horse racing season was winding down last fall. Thank you! We loved it and will be back for more racing.

As long time horse race fans, we were very excited to get our own private tour of the behind the scenes look at what goes behind calling a horse race. We first had to cross a catwalk that soared above the grandstands, then followed winding hallways that seemed to go nowhere. When we finally arrived at the offices for the officials it was truly a step back into time. While waiting for T.D. to arrive, we were seated in what used to be the press booth. There were many chairs and tiny, wooden windows that overlooked the track from high above the stands. It was somewhat eerie and exciting at the same time thinking of the cigar-chewing, bourbon drinking reporters who spent countless hours at Suffolk Downs covering the races.

In T.D.'s booth, a simple walk across plywood on top of the roof gets you there, where he alone sounds the bugle (a well kept secret as to whether there's an actual bugle) and then calls the race, there exists an old, heavy wooden desk. When you slide out a little panel above the drawers, there is an ages old, hand-written list of whom to call in case of emergency. My guess is most of these contacts are now watching horse racing from heaven. It's amazing to think of how many people have used that desk over the years, possibly going back to when Seabiscuit made his appearance in 1937.

Now on to today's action. We watched T. D. prep for the upcoming race, which involved color coding the entries on his race card and attaching a mental note to each horse. He then methodically rattled off in a mumble his notes and repeated them again, while we stood by very silently. It was amazing to see and hear him call the race. I'm still dumbfounded how he pulls this off.

Once a race is over, his mind completely clears and he moves on to the next race. He attributes his ability to not confuse horses from one race to the next to a potential "character flaw," his words, if I remember correctly. T. D. is able to completely forget what just happened. I'm thinking this has to be a nightmare for his wife if there's a really good argument going on. On the flip side, it could have its benefits as well!

Of course, occasionally there's a miscall as indicated in the photo below. T. D. seems to be a pretty even tempered guy, but as with any professional, you hate to screw up! As an aside, try to say "sitting chilly" (a term used when a jockey lets the horse do the work, thereby biding his time) three times and see what you get.
T. D. has been involved in horse racing for most of his life and has written for many publications, not only about horse racing, but other sports as well. He's one of the fortunate few to be able to eke out a living while following his passion for horse racing and writing.

In 2007, his book "Not by a Long Shot: A Season at a Hard Luck Horse Track" was published with many good reviews. This book follows the 2000 racing season at Suffolk Downs, which like many other tracks has seen a loss in attendance and revenue.

However, while attendance may have dropped significantly, revenues are only slightly down in comparison, thanks to Off Track Betting parlors and continuous links to other tracks across the world. The picture below is the server room where live feed from tracks across the country come in. There's a whole other bank of monitors and computers directly across from where T. D. is standing. Two ladies monitor the entire show from here.
While, it's great that there's other sources of revenue, for real fans of the sport itself, you just have to be there in person. To feel the power of the horses as they thunder either away from the gates, and inevitably, toward the finish line, is an truly an unbelievably awesome feeling.

Suffolk Downs may not be the beauty that it once was, as the lower level "frost heaves" can toss a beer from an unsuspecting bettor's hands in seconds, but it's still a great place to spend an afternoon outdoors with a racing form in one hand and a cold beer or hot dog in the other hand.

May 2nd kicks off the 2009 live racing season in conjunction with a simulcast of the Kentucky Derby. We may not be there this weekend, but will definitely find our way there on other sunny days.

Play Ball!!!

From our first meeting, Roger and I have always enjoyed going to baseball games. Early on it was the Texas Rangers. This was before the beautiful "Ballpark in Arlington" was built. The old stadium was like an erector set that just happened to play host to a major league baseball team. Historic Fenway Park on the otherhand may not be much to look at either, but as true fans know, the beauty lies in its history and layout.

I'm proud to say that my own grandfather sat in one of those seats in the 1950's. His oldest daughter, Juanita, up and married a Bostonian, so one summer the rest of the family packed up the sedan and drove from Amarillo all the way to Boston to visit her and the new in-laws. Papaw, who was once a recruited ballplayer himself, had to have been thrilled to catch a game at Fenway Park. It's hard to imagine that at the time, the park was already 50+ years old. He'd be amazed to know that it still stands in its original configuration and still has a manually operated scoreboard. He'd be even more amazed that the Redsox went 86 years between World Series titles. Supposedly the lack of a title was a result of a curse brought on by trading Babe Ruth to the "evil empire".

Other baseball memories include the summer of 1977 when I worked as an usher for the Texas Rangers. We wore gauchos, gingham shirts and a cowgirl hats. During this time, Roger was in Lawrence, Kansas cheering on George Brett and the KC Royals.

Tickets to Redsox games are very hard to come by, not to mention over-the-top expensive, so we enjoy the games from the comfort of our living room. To quench our appetite for the "real thing", we began going to see the New Hampshire Fisher Cats, one of the many MLB farm teams in the area. There's just something about a game of baseball. The easy, steady pace, with the sudden pop of a flyball, or better yet, a homerun to regain the crowd's attention and cheers.

Here's an excellent link if you'd like to read more about the history of Fenway Park.