Ronny's page 2

There was so much that I wanted to share about Ronnie Roberts, but I find that I can't. I don't have the eyes, or patience for it. I will tell you a story or two though.
As I lost vision, I tried to keep up with the classes Mike paid for. It was I that asked for a certain type of training, and I didn't want to let him down. The training was about thirty five miles from my home, and ended about ten at night. Ronnie would always offer to drive me home. The trip would add about an hour and a half to his night. When I would tell him that, he would say, "Meho, you are more important to me then sleep. I'll keep my phone on an extra hour cause you're so hardheaded." Love you too Meho.
In between being ornery and mean, causing trouble, and headaches, Ronnie would pull peoples butts out of whatever fire they found themselves in.
One night in late fall while driving down a rain soaked two lane he passed a young woman walking along the side of the road. She wasn't wearing any shoes, and only a light blouse. The lack of shoes on a cold rainy night bothered him enough to make him turn around and go back. He pulled up alongside her as she was walking and asked her if she wouldn't like to get in the truck and at least be warm and dry. She accepted and as he drove off, she told him that she had had a relationship-ending fight with her boyfriend and he had thrown her out in the rain dressed like that. Ronnie went to Wal-Mart, asked her her shoe size and went in and bought her some shoes and socks and other essentials, came back out to the truck and gave them to her. He then drove to the Embassy Suites. He had a voucher for three nights and so he checked her into the Embassy Suites and said, "Hon, you got three days to figure out what you want to do and where you want to go." He left her his number and then went home.
A mutual friend of ours found himself living under a bridge for awhile. When he went back to work and had a place to stay, he had no ride. Ronnie would pick him up and take him to and from every day, even though it was out of the way. When I asked him if it bugged him, he said, "No, he needs to get back and forth." With Ronnie, it was just that simple.
I hope that God finds his soul as beautiful and valuable as I do.

Ronny's page

This is a pic of one of my MEHO's. MEHO is a cross between my hero and my homey. Otherwise known as one of my buds. The pic is of him riding his motorcycle in his work uniform. This is the first of two pics of him in the local paper this month. The second was the pic his family used for his obituary. His page is one of the most complex I've ever tried to type. Ronnie was 53 when he died, and not more then a couple of months removed from his latest bar fight. He was a sudden man, one with the bark still on! Ronnie didn't pick fights, he welcomed them. He reminded me of my dad that way. Daddy slapped his last bar bully around at the age of seventy four. Ronnie said he would kick my ass about once a week. He also said the reason he didn't was cause he was afraid I wouldn't stay down when knocked there. He also said he loved me. Good thing too, cause I wanted to kick his ass too, but I loved him. He was a whistler, and to me that sounds like fingernails on a blackboard. I used to get him back by cutting loose with my air hammer when he was hung over. We used to try and do lunch about once a week. We would vent, and try to help each other fix cars. Ronnie and I didn't hang out after work much, to many miles. We did however stay close with work and the phone. He is one of the guys that has called me several times since my having to leave work. He got moved to a different location that my boss Mike owned, and it was good for both of us. I could miss him without his damn whistling, yet we could still be close. Continued....

Again, Angle Oak

I got a call from one of the guys that I work with today; that makes all but one. He was just checking up on me, hoping I'm ok. He wanted to tell me the latest news, I already knew. I had been out the night before with two other guys from work.
I got to thinking about old friends, kids that I grew up with. Sometimes it's hard to be a thousand miles from home. When I first came to the south, it seemed like a foreign land, one that I would never fit into. More then ten years have gone by, and I hardly recognise the world I came from. I have offered silent prayers that Phillips girlfriend would beat the cancer in her breasts, and become his bride. I've watched Bruce try to hold it together while his wife Kitty seemed to wither away. I've seen "That Man" live through a bad wreck that ended a football dream, but then drank at his wedding. I remember putting my faith into friends and neighbors to take care of my Dad as he had hip replacement a couple of months ago, while I couldn't get to him to help. I came to realise that my life spread out like the Angle Oak, covering a large place and being touched by many other souls. There isn't much garbage in my life, the people are real. The love can be touched. Seems I'm not so far from home after all, but then I've known that all along.
For all that call, or wright to me on blog and off. To those that think of me, and pray for me, to those that simply hope for me. I love you too.

The worm turns again

The pic is a sunset on Lake Murray, taken from the south side of Bombing island.
News all over the place. Daughters deployment is back on. I'm going to Emory to see a couple of Doc's on Jul 2 and 3. I don't mind telling you that I'm nervous, but also hopeful. The idea of not having these big thick glasses is exciting.

When good news is bad, or when bad news is good.

Pic is of some goofy girl on a tube behind my bouat.
Got a call from my daughter the other day. Seems when she got home from her pre- deployment leave, she found out she wasn't going. The person she was to replace decided to stay for another tour. It would have been nice if this happened while there was still time to re-enroll in school. Daughter will try and go out with the November group. Yes John, she is seeking the deployment. You don't move up if you don't move out. She has always been special to me, and with hard work she will be special to many others as well.

Update

The pic is of my Son-in-law. No you can't see him but he is there. He is hidden behind the splash of water that he is making as he fell off the tube. I thought it fitting to use that pic at this time. Now you see what I sometimes see!
Surgery update is as follows: No real word out of Emory yet. We are supposed to hear something today or tomorrow. Next option is Charleston.
I had a great time with the kids this week, even sharing in the joy of my daughters promotion to Petty officer. My Son-in-law brought me a hoodie with the insignia of his unit on it. He is with a group that my friend A.J calls " the bump in the night". It's cool as it is the one they wear, and not the one you can buy.
I did pass on the message from John, that they should refuse to deploy, and write poetry instead. John, they were amused but respectful. I have asked for a pic of my Son-in-law with a camel, and for their safe return.

A special note of thanks to Bruce and A.J. from work for calling to check up on me. The gift of your friendship is more prescious then gold!

Monday night

First pic is standing on my dock looking out to the ski cove. Second pic is my Doberman guarding the sleeping dog behind her. If something were to comeup she would turn and wake him before running for the house!
So I've been off work for a week now, and am starting to run out of things to do. I find I miss being at work and the banter back and forth of the guys. I was with them for ten years, and even the new guys (Bill and Michael) I've grown fond of and miss. I don't worry much about going blind, as I already am.
My records have been sent to Emory to be looked at by their big gun, meanwhile I wait.
In other news, my daughter is going to be here for this week on her pre-deployment leave. My son in law is coming also. The news I didn't tell you is that he will be deployed to Iraq just before she comes home.
Newlyweds apart for a year and a half. (sucks to be them!)
I'm going to smoke a turkey like at thanksgiving so we can have a holiday meal together.
Remember when we were kids? I do. We used to play softball every day. We all had the Huffy bikes with the Banana seats and the high rise handlebars. You could put the bottom of your bat in the rear forks, and it would stick out the side. A glove could go on the handlebars or the bat. We would ride down to the elementary school two blocks from my house to play ball every day. Back then I didn't know I was blind. My friends never told me.

Tuesday Morning

It's Tuesday morning. I've just come in from watching the sun come up over the lake while drinking my coffee. My wife took me into town yesterday, so that I might put the rest of my tools away. It might be awhile before I can pick them up again. In little more then a years time I've gone from having the beginning signs of a cataract to needing surgery. My doc tells me that she will find "the experts expert" to fix my one remaining eye. A team. People with skilled hands to fix whatever damage might occur during the procedure. People that have been down this road before. The odds of a good outcome in normal people is around 98%, but I'm sure reader and friend John from Canada wouldn't be impressed. He landed in the 2% group.
The only odds of success I've found for people with my problems is around 25%.
It's Tuesday morning, and I'm going outside to be in the sun.

The right reverand Wright

Enough of nightmares and distant storms, it's time to get back to what it is we do here.
I've been watching The reverend Wright, and his effect on the candidacy of Barrack Obama. Seems whitey has misunderstood him. Turns out he wants a diverse but equal society. Heck he even wants equal education! You can read his latest drivel here . I as some of you know but others don't, was a student of The Michigan School for the Blind. Funny thing about blind folks: color doesn't matter much. I would never presume to tell you that they're not prejudiced because they are. They don't like certain tones of voice, and accent. Color? Nope, don't even understand the concept. So back to education. I went to school with a bunch of black kids. We went to class, smoked, played sports, hung out, and learned about life together. Some of us were close! How close? Close enough to spend the weekends together in each others homes. Close enough that my brother Michael Baily carried my butt off of the mat when I blew a knee wrestling out of town. It hurt so bad, all I wanted was my mama. All I had was Mike! Some days I miss you so much I weep. Everyone should have a big brother like Mike.
So back to Reverend Wright, and his ilk Reverend Al, I don't know what you want?
The world moves at it's own pace, and we are all judged on our character, even you.
I don't like to hold any man to a pedestal because all flesh is suspect if not rotten but there are at times flashes of wisdom. One of my favorites is from a man that used to run around on his wife. He had a dream, something about being judged on the content of your character nad not the color of your skin. I think I'll leave the judging to someone that can see your character, and yours too Reverend Wright! Meanwhile would you kindley get out of the political process and go back to your flock!

Storms

As you can see in the pic, there is a storm close to my home. I took the pic because I've been feeling unsettled. Not yet angry but you can see it in the distance. My energy is widespread and I'm unable to focus. It seems that every time I write something I let it sleep a day and then I can't stand to read it. It isn't that I've nothing to say, but I've plenty to say. Just not sure what it is. I can't seem to get angry.

Lines

The pic is of Bob and Betty Mallard. I think they have a nest in the bushes to the right.
It's been a tough week for my family this week. My Dad had hip replacement surgery and none of us could get there to help him. He is a very private person and didn't tell me until I couldn't do anything for him. He preferred it that way. He is an old wolf that I believe still could walk through hell on Sunday. He spent his time on the line. My Great Grandfather came to this country around eighteen eighty. Ireland to England to Canada, and then the UP. His son, my Grandfather was a cook for a while in Europe. The time was WW1; that's how he spent his time on the line. He would come home and raise four sons that would take their place on the line. Dewey, would dive for the Navy, and blow things up in WW2. Edward would fight at Iwo Jima with the ones that raised our flag. William, would be a member of the 11Th Airborne, and earn three purple hearts in Korea. Lenard would get as far as Japan on his way to Korea. They along with their sons and the sons of their sisters stood the line. Some didn't get recognised and some did. Cousin Wayne whose name should be on the wall but agent orange killed after the war. James who was supplying the Marines in Lebanon. Remember Beirut? Yep the Navy was there too. James died not too long ago after a long battle with HIV. Some folks stand the line a bit different than others. (chuckle)
I saw in our paper this week that the 218TH SC National guard is coming home. The first group got to N.C. this week. I read where a man spent the night at the airport to greet his wife when she got home after her time on the line. She had been gone a year to Afghanistan as a Chaplin. It would be five more days before she got home so her husband came to her. They had about an hour together. I remember when she left. Don't remember who they relieved. I think it was a group of folks from the NY National Guard. The line goes on forever, and it includes Cooks and Generals, Chaplins and Soldiers, and people from every walk and profession. This week I found out that the line will now include my Daughter. It is her turn to take the place of someone that hasn't been home in a while. As a father I'm a bit apprehensive but I couldn't be more proud.

Where did quality go?

I've been noticing that I can't get anything done well lately. Had a flat over the weekend and had to go to a tire store and buy some skins. I had to re balance them at work that week. Bought a dishwasher from Sears a while back. Nine hundred bucks and eight months later the motor went out. Warranty fixed it and eight months later.... you got it; the motor again. This time no warranty. Thanks Sears and Whirlpool for a great product. Next time it will be Bosh or someone else.
So we decide to put concrete under our deck instead of using decorative rock. So we got a couple of estimates and took one. Big company with five crews. Work is short so the price was good, and I was excited to get this done. Tom C was in the business of finishing concrete and doing masonry work for near ten years so I wasn't too concerned about the job. Slam Dunk; right? So after waiting a week we got a team of Mexicans with a truck load of trash that came to prep the site.They needed to put some fill down to build up the site. I had a pile of sand clay mix for that purpose at the side of the driveway. Next to their truck. After much leveling and such they needed product. Run up to the pile and get some right? NO! Lets instead take it out from behind the retaining wall next to the site of the slab! Ohh and we need more so we'll get some by digging a hole in the side of a small hill near by! Thus moving the dirt that I had put down over many hot days, compacting and seeding. Stay tuned for the conclusion of Where'd the yard go?

I win

Once again here on Lake Murray spring has sprung. The pic is of a stand of Bradford Pear trees in full bloom. The white flowers turn to green leaves in about a week.
Don I don't know if you're home or out west but it's time to get the clubs out here in Carolina.

Ruths page

I walked across the street to come around behind her, the feeling I'd been fighting all day starting to get the better of me. All the neighbors were with her, sitting in her driveway on lawn chairs watching the days proceedings. I put my arms around her neck and said,"I wish.... I wish" then my voice broke, leaving me the little boy that had always needed her. "I wish you didn't have to go!" She lived across the street and one house to the left, she and her husband Woody, when he was alive. They lived in a house that he built himself. It was red brick and neat as a pin, with a single car garage.
I remember helping Mr. Woody with his camper when he put it up for the winter. He liked to have it level, and resting on several points to hold through the long winters. He paid me in change and Diet Pepsi. I still think of him every time I have a diet cola.
She, was my own real life guardian angel. As a child I was all boy, and too rowdy to survive. She was a retired surgical nurse; she had other ideas.
As a young child I used to get sick every winter with a high fever that would require a trip to the hospital for a shot. I remember my mothers worried voice on the phone to Ruth, and then her hands with a cool cloth. I remember the time I jumped/fell off the top bunk of my brother and I's beds to land and gash my eyebrow. She patched me up before sending me to the hospital for stitches. She later pulled them out in her bathroom. I was born to fix things. I spent my summer days when not playing ball fixing lawnmowers, and then putting engines in cars. Ruth watched me do all of this from the picture window in her house. Every time I got tangled up in a piece of equipment she would fix it. Me that is! One day the top part of our garage door came loose and swung down just as I was passing under it. The door hit me in the back of the head, sending me to the ground. I saw the black as they say when you're about to go under. She was right there checking the lump on my head and calling my mom.
As I got older the trouble got worse. The point finally came when she had to run my butt to the doctors, covered in blood.
I as a typical teenager had stolen my dads bad ass dirtbike and went racing. At over eighty miles an hour a dog ran out infront of me while I had a friend on the back. I layed it down and lost most of a leather jacket and all the skin on my forarms and left knee. The knee was also broken and swollen like a basketball. the kid I had on the back was ok but for a skinned kneee so he picked the bike up and then me. I got the bike to start but couldn't drive it the block and a half home. The kid I was riding and the kid I was racing got me on the bike facing the wrong way and one rode me home.The other went for Ruth. good as gold she put me in her car and took me to my Dr. Yep she knew him! They cleaned me and stitched me while Ruth took great delight as Dr. gave her the syringe to administer the tetanus shot. So here we were on a warm summer day watching people pick through her things as she cleaned out a lifetime of memories, in preporation to going to live with her son. "I wish you didn't have to go" I said. She reached up to hug me and replied, "Me too, but it's time."

Protection?

This is the view looking out the gate where I work. The large tree in the pics isn't usually lying on top of that truck, and it's not usually snuggled around that van. I and another person had just come back from lunch and gone back to work when Mike came by and asked if I had seen the fallen tree. It was like having the elephant in the room suddenly come into view. We cut the van out, but the truck was holding the tree up so we left it for folks with better equipment. The tree kept trying to roll in the gusty winds while we were cutting the van out, and I was reminded of something I'd read.
It seems many christians believe that we are all here for a purpose and that we will not be harmed until we achieve that task. By the standards of my life this wasn't a close call, not even on the same book. I nearly pissed myself when stuck on a cliff once because moving meant falling some seventy feet into a rocky river. I wonder though if I've a task; what is it? Did I do it already? Will I? If I don't, will someone else do it?

Slavery, the human condition

As stated below, Mrs. C and I went to the low country oyster festival on Sunday the twenty seventh. The festival is held at
Boone Hall plantation
I've been to the plantation many times and have often wondered about the past inhabitants of both the big house and the slave quarters. I was raised to know that slavery was a bad thing; but did you ever wonder why? If it was so bad then why did many slaves stay on as servants of the same people? I remember reading stories in a book called "When I Just Can Remember". It was full of accounts of the lives of slaves before and after freedom. I don't really know what life was like for most Africans before slavery, but I presume it to be much like the American Indians. I do know something of the lives of the slave though, and thought I might compare it to the not too distant past of my family. Before I walk along on this journey though I must answer a question that I have wondered about over the years while always knowing the answer. Why did they stay? They stayed for the same reasons that you and I stay in jobs, marriages, homes, and other situations that might not be best for us. They were comfortable! Some days were good and some bad, but they were do able! They also had value! Even as slaves they had value, and were proud of that value. Value is as important to us as air! The amount varies, but fact remains. The slaves at Boone Hall had it better then some, I'm sure. They had housing with a fire place and tile roofs. They also had garden space to grow the plants that would spice their food and nurse their health. They also supplemented their food by fishing and hunting. They had medical attention to help them stay healthy.(though not good even for the times) They had a school to learn to read and write. By contrast my Grandfather had a wife and seven children in a small one room wooden shack in the northern Michigan climate. The old place didn't even have a solid door for a large part of the year! Heat came from a wood stove, as did the heat for cooking. Water was brought in from a pitcher pump in the yard, same as what watered the animals. Medicine was what you grew or knew, and cuts were stitched by Grandma with a needle and thread. Whiskey was the Betadine of the day as well as the sedative. I remember seeing a pic of my Dad as a bit more then a toddler wearing what looked like a flour sack with the arms and head holes cut into the bottom. Grandpa worked a shift at the quarry, and then tended the farm at night and on Sunday. Grandma did the hunting to put meat on the table because she was around home and the best shot. Ammo was a need that couldn't be wasted at that time. The farms first tractor came on a down payment by my Dad, with his Airborne jump money. This meant that Dan and Molly the draft horses could semi retire. School was about a mile up the road, but the cash crop paid for new shoes for the kids once a year. No school if your chores weren't done. Even as a child myself we were poor. We rented from Black people to have a place to live, and grew lots of food to see us through the winters. Mom made the bread that we ate each other day. How poor were we? I grew up fifty feet from the boyhood home of Malcolm Little, also known as Malcolm X. He could tote a gun and hate whitey. We had to work to live. What I would say of slavery is that its evil is in the creation of dependence, and an inability to make ones own way. Welfare is just another form of it. With few exceptions we are all slaves to something or some ideal.
One of my favorite memories is of helping my mom to make the bread for that nights meal. I was just four, but already kneading the dough.

Angel Oak

The pics are from Johns Island South Carolina. The wife and I went down to the coast for the low country oyster festival this past weekend and I thought we would visit this grand old tree. It is a Live Oak; scientific name is Virginia oak or something like that. This tree is the oldest living thing east of the Mississippi at one thousand four hundred years plus. It is twenty five feet around at the base with its longest limb at something like eighty five feet in length. The branches are so heavy that they grow low and sometimes rest on the ground. I've seen some that have taken root where the branch touched the ground and lived after the tree was dead and gone. Here in the deep south the tree isn't deciduous. I think it loses some but not all of its leaves. To stand under the great branches is to know that God is in his heaven.

Election Day

K so here it was the Saturday that we've all been waiting for, Election Day!
The day was wet; bigtime wet! Cold like up north too! So I was talking to a buddy that just happens to be the GOP Chair for our state. I asked him who he was going to vote for. Two days before the election and niether of us knew where we were going to put our vote! After a bit of comiseration we parted ways still not sure. I've a friend in Detroit that keeps sending me Ron Paul stuff to the point that I had to tell him that I thought Ron was a nut case. I hurt his feelings for sure because the emails started to fly. As stated my guy is and was Duncan Hunter. Don't know what is so hard about that but he had no chance. Non! I didnt take the time to debate my friend on the merits of Dr. Paul versus Dunc, or Huck, or anyone else. I was sure I'd ruin a friendship that is worth more then gold to me. After taking the advice of fellow reader Don, I had attended a rally in support of the Fair Tax. We were across the street from the first GOP debate when I got to hear from Duncan, and Mike , and Tom Tancredo. I knew then that Mccain was'nt my guy even though I believe him to be an honest and thoughtful person. Sorry once again John, but there is more to the pic then just the war. Sorry to Ron also but there is a reason to have troops over seas, and some of it is to spread american money in certain areas. Get over it!
So the wife and I go to the polling place in the rain; it's about 1:30 and there is a line but we don't have to wait outside the building like we do on the weekday votes. It was a steady line to get to the three voting machines, but no problems. After the vote we had a flat on the way home that caused me to change a tire in the cold rain before getting my car home. I don't think it was devine intervention though, even though I voted for Huckabee. What I would tell my friend in Detroit is that ideas and ideals are great; but we have to work within the real world. This means that if MCcain wins the nomination he will get my vote! The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

I scored first

This is going to seem like whining and I apologize but every once in a while....
I'm a good Irish Polish lad, I work hard I drink harder, and I compete with the best of them; but this latest thing....
What's it like to lose your vision, and know that there is scant reason to believe that you will get it back? Let me give you a brief overview of what I'm looking at.
I have a disease called Sticklers syndrome. It is a hereditary disease that affects Collagen and the connective tissue in my body. The outward signs are bad hearing and severe nearsightedness. We as young people can do things with our joints that others can't. We seem to be double jointed, and can bend in directions most can't while we are young. Things that will break your bones are dislocations to us. Our eyes on the other hand have severe nearsightedness along with glaucoma and cataracts, we also have retnal detachments. We don't hear so well either. We get osteoarthritis as young people and have a high rate of joint failure; mostly hips and knees. I've had a dozen dislocates on each knee before I was thirty. I used to wrestle against high school kids when I was in junior high. While I won a lot, and set records for pins I also took a beating in the knees. I exacerbated the damage by racing Moto Cross on the weekends. At that too I was exceptional. I don't have any way to know if the extra flexibility of my joints helped and gave me an advantage or not, but I beat folks that had very much better equipment than I. Folks that know me know that I have one eye that I see with, the other being artwork by a clinic in Grenville SC. At fourtyfive I'm losing the vision in my eye due to a cataract. The symptoms are loss of acuity and a haze around everything during the day. I am a mechanic by trade and a good one in my field of expertise. As of now there are many jobs that I cannot undertake because I can't see well enough to perform. Soon I will lose my ability to drive and then my job. The future at this point looks bleak indeed, so I try as I did on our trip to see as much as I can. One never knows when the end of a thing is upon them. I looked at the palm trees in California like I would never see the likes again, because I might not. I looked at the nearly bare breasts of the bartender at the Sweetwater Saloon the same way. I looked at the faces of my daughter and her family knowing that I might not see them as clear again ever. I am ever grateful for what I have, but I worked hard all my life; I've fought with everything I have, and dammit I scored first! I'm way behind at halftime but dammit I scored first!