A well-spent Friday

We had an interesting day today. It started off with a meeting with our county legislative delegation. My boss was the main speaker, but I went along to carry his spear. We aren’t looking for anything special from the legislature in the session that will begin in January, but we need to hold on to the funding we have. Mostly we were there just to keep us on their radar screen.

After that, I spent the rest of the day out on the water and hiking around a couple of the local inner barrier islands.

It was a very nice day!

The project is a joint effort between our institute and the state DNR archaeology division.  We are trying to identify significant archaeological sites that may be threatened by erosion in the foreseeable future. A reporter from the Savannah newspaper went along to do a story. I joined the group to liaison with her and to take pictures for her. Not a bad way to spend a fall Friday.

It was a beautiful day, with temperatures ranging from the low 70s to the low 80s. Nice break from the office. As Mrs. Poolman said, “And you get paid for that?”

A salt marsh

We saw some nature and a couple of pretty cool archaeological sites, including a Civil War era earthen artillery battery and a 19^th century bricked walled grave yard.

The graveyard

It’s weird seeing something like that on an otherwise deserted island.

I am not the most coordinated person in the world, which I demonstrated once again. As we were walking along, we came to a fallen tree across our path. Holding on to my camera, I straddled the log, sitting on it. The log was on a slant, with the downhill side to my back. Before I could swing my trailing leg over and hop off the other side, I felt myself falling backwards. Sure enough – down I went. It was like, well, falling off a log. I had dirt and leaves in my hair, but no damage except to my dignity. I fall a lot, and have gotten pretty good at it.

We did see a little wildlife. I was standing and talking with the reporter, when I saw feral hog. It was a mama with about ten little piglets. Mama was fairly large, about the size of my Labrador retriever. She heavily engaged snuffling around looking for food or whatever they do and didn’t notice us until she was about 40 feet away. I raised my arm to try to get a picture and that caught her attention. You could just see what went through her little porcine brain.

“Ohay, itshay!” (That’s pig latin for “Oh, sh_t!)

Off she went, running all the way home. We didn’t hear her, but she must have sent a message for the little pigs, because they also scurried after her.”

All together, it was a good day.

Mrs. Poolman and I are having an early dinner (Spare ribs. How appropriate?) and to bed early. The Gators have an “exhibition game” tomorrow against Florida International. Mrs. P is staying home, so I’m taking two of my Gator-fan friends to the game. We’ll be out the door at 5 am. That’s criminal for a Saturday morning, but you gotta do what you gotta do.”

A close “oops” call

I’ve spent a couple of days this week in Atlanta.

My meeting ended early on Tuesday, so I took the opportunity of the pre-rush hour traffic to make a run to the Crate and Barrel Store in Lenox Square Mall. About two years ago, I bought some cocktail glasses there that we really liked. Unfortunately, we sorta liked them to death. There are only two of the original six or eight remaining. Lucky me! They still had the same style of glass and they were on sale. Actually, I’m not 100% certain the ones I bought are exactly the same style as the remaining two. However, I bought eight replacements, so if they aren’t exactly the same, we’ll just have a whole new set.

When I went out to my car in the now-darkened parking lot, I noticed a car with its lights on parked to my side. There were two or three empty spaces in between us. I saw there was a guy in the driver’s seat with his head bent forward against the steering wheel, as if he was unconscious. He watched him for a minute or two and he was very still. The “good Samaritan” in me came to the surface. I had thoughts of a heart attack, stroke, etc. I walked over with the intent of knocking on the window to see if he was OK. As I got close to the window and was about to knock on the glass, I saw that he had his hands folded in his lap.

Oops!!! The guy was praying!

He was probably Muslim, but I didn’t wait around to ask.

As I was pulling out of the parking spot, I noticed the man finished his prayer and was sitting up in the car. I guess I dodged an awkward moment there.

More on Tennessee football follies

About the time I posted yesterday’s comments on the UT football situation, Coach Kiffin kicked two of the players off the team.  That was the safe course. No one will seriously criticize him for that.

I think I might have suspended the players and waited to see what comes out in court.  Sometimes what something appears to be at first,  doesn’t turn out quite that way in the end. You could always play the “dismiss card” later, when the facts are in.

Well, Lane probably knows more then what is being made public, and, as I wrote yesterday, that’s why he’s making the big bucks.

At least two of those kids had really big potential. They’ve probably totally screwed that now. I hope for their sake they can get their lives together and make something of themselves down the line.

I’m still a big Gator fan, but I can’t chortle over this mess.

Oops! I just reread yesterday’s post. I guess I already did.

A tough call in Knoxville

SEC football fans are a-blog over the arrest late last week of three University of Tennessee football players on charges they tried to rob someone using a pellet gun.

Some Florida fans are chortling in their beers over this development. One of the “three “Armed Amigos”, as some are calling them,  Nu’keese (aka: No Keys, or, he hopes, No Case) Richardson is a freshman receiver. He was a center of controversy last winter. Nu’keese was a Florida verbal commit who signed at the last minute with Tennessee. UT coach Lane Kiffen loudly held up (no pun intended) Nu’keese as an example of his recruiting prowess. And Nu’keese was the recruit Kiffen accused Urban Meyer of cheating to get to sign. Nu’keese is not an anonymous freshman.

I don’t  think the fans of any major football power should be laughing too hard. Remember, “those who live in glass houses…” Florida has had its share of problems. To anyone who is snickering, remember, you could be next.

It will be interesting to see how UT handles the issue. Unlike some, I won’t say “throw them out” before their case is ever ajudicated.  That’s too easy. You have to remember these are 18 year old dumb a__s. Would you throw out your own son if he got into trouble? You can’t just ignore it either.   The proper course should be well thought out.  What is best for the players and for justice? I don’t know what the exact right action is. I wonder if Coach Kiffen does. No matter what he chooses, he will be vilified by some group. It’s a no-win situation (kind of like quite a few UT football games this season. Ha!)  That’s why you get paid the big-bucks,  Lane.

Now that I’ve taken the high road, let’s get back down in the ditch for a while.

What do you say to a Tennessee football player when you see him in a suit and tie?

Would the defendant please rise?

The Gators are 10-0 and ranked #1 in the country. Life is good.

Later, Gators!

Need a few more helicopter parents

I went to a “stewardship meeting” at our church earlier this week, and a subject came up that hit home. Essentially, the question was, “How good a job are we doing developing the next generation of Catholics?” If my anecdotal experience is any example, the answer would be “not very good.” However, the problem, as I see it, is not so much at the parish level as it is in the family.

I have heard stories of “helicopter parents” who hover over everything their child does. I wish the parents of my 5^th grade CCD students were a little more rotary-winged.  Instead, they are more like remote controls.

It can be frustrating. We have the kids for only about 45-50 effective minutes per week. That is not constitute sufficient volume or repetition to have any kind of meaningful or lasting impact, if there isn’t some spiritual support and development also taking place at home. In too many cases, it is very obvious there is little or none.

This is not a blanket indictment. There are exceptions. However, in general I can see the signs of this vacuum in several ways.

1. I see a few of my kids at mass on weekends with some frequency, but if you toss out that relatively small handful, it is a extremely rare treat to see any of my current or former students there. Regular Sunday mass attendance is not a common practice among my students’ families.

2. In the 5^th grade we spend a lot of time talking about the sacraments. In the Catholic Church, most of the kids received the Sacrament of Reconciliation (confession) in the first or second grade. Their parents SHOULD have been taking them to confession at least a couple times a year since then. When we talk about the sacrament in class, many of my students barely remember the first and last time they received Reconcilation.

In an effort to try to engage parents this year, I created a blog for my class. Each week, I write a few paragraphs describing what we talked about. I told the parents about this in our first introductory meeting and also sent the information home in a “welcome letter” after the first class session. I suggested that it would be a good idea to check it on at least a weekly basis, if for no other reasons, to make sure they are informed of any class schedule changes.

This week we had a class cancellation. Last week ago the county public schools were out on our CCD day for a furlough or planning day of some sort. That night we had only six of our 16 students show up. The following Wednesday (this week) would be Veteran’s Day, another school holiday. So the CCD leaders decided to go ahead and cancel CCD class on that day. We announced it in class, but there were only six students there to hear it. I also posted it prominently on the class blog. In past years, I have personally phoned the parents of each of the students to inform them of the cancellation. This time, I figured that the blog and the Sunday bulletin would cover any who had been missed. How silly of me.

Last night, I ran into one of my friends, who is the father of one of my students, and he chastised me about the class cancellation. Apparently, he packed up his kids and drove them to class, only to find the “class cancelled” sign on the door.

“Poolman, it was on the calendar!”

I bit my tongue to hold back my “snappy retort.”

You don’t send your child to class the week before, so she missed the announcement.

You don’t take your child to Mass on Sunday, so you miss the bulletin.

You don’t check the blog to keep in touch with what we are teaching your child, and so you missed the announcement there.

But it’s my fault you didn’t know of the cancellation.

I guess it is. Sigh.

A face from the past

I think it is interesting when someone from the past reaches out with a touch. With the amount of moving around we have done over the past several decades, we have left a lot of friendships behind.  Late last week I had a “face from the past” get in touch courtesy of Facebook.  Ann is a former high school friend with whom I’ve had but a single contact since the mid 1970s; we ran into each other at her (and my brother’s) HS class reunion in 1991.

I haven’t lived in my hometown of Pittsburgh since I was 18, so I never casually run into old high school classmates in the grocery store or the like. As I have written earlier, I have stayed in close touch with one old friend, and became reacquainted with another over the past few months. All of that is just a way of saying that a reconnect with someone from that time of my life is a rare treat.

Fortunately, Mrs. Poolman is not the jealous type, because Ann could be categorized as a “former girl friend.” We dated for about six months after I graduated from HS. She was the first girl I could actually describe as a “girl friend.” We had a fun time and when we broke up, we remained friends. No hard feelings on either side. She was quite smart with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. She went on to become a tax attorney.

A "Snipe" sailboat

I also remember her parents fondly. Her dad had her same sarcastic wit, and while he didn’t spare me, he was generally pretty nice to me. They had a small sailboat, and he taught me how to sail. Her mom was a real sweetheart. I think I was nearly as fond of her as I was of Ann.

So in the course of six months of dating, I had some fun and received an introduction to both relationships and sailing. Ann also took up knitting during that time, and she made me two sweaters that I wore for several more years. All told – a very positive experience and a pleasant memory.

Thanks for reaching out, Ann!

Monday rambles…

We had a busy weekend. We left for Florida Friday afternoon and didn’t get home until late Sunday afternoon. 48 hours of travel for a three-hour football game. Oh well.

Apparently, the controversy with this game (Florida-Vanderbilt), according to the announcers, was the stadium noise, or lack of it. Not counting my time as a student, I have been going to Florida home games since the early 90s. There is no problem with the noise. The fans get up and make noise to disrupt the opponent’s offense when there is a reason to do so. Sorry, ESPN guys, Vandy just wasn’t an opponent to really get everyone screaming themselves hoarse. The one time they actually did get into scoring position, the crowd got loud. Otherwise, the UF ‘D’ didn’t need the help.

*   *   *

I got a call late last week from one of the organizers of a local charity event, the Chili Bowl.

Chili Bowl III 2008

Mrs. Poolman and I have helped with this event for the past two years. It is an outdoor chili cook-off and multi-band concert in a large downtown park in early December. The idea is to raise money for one or two specific individuals who have serious medical issues and need help with the bills. Each year they pick a different person(s). We got involved two years ago when the beneficiary was the son-in-law of one of our friends, and a co-worker of Mrs. Poolman.

I can offer some assistance in advance publicity through my contacts. Mrs. P and I both go down the help out on the day of the event. The beer truck is the most popular work station. Wonder why? More on this as it develops.

*   *   *

I talked with the middle of my three sisters last night. She and her family live in South Carolina. I have been considering a short run to see my Dad in Pittsburgh sometime around Christmas. I didn’t want to fly due to the expense, which means driving, roughly 11 hours each way.

Mrs. P was not looking forward to making the drive at all. “After eight hours in the car, I just want to cut my throat,” she said.

I said I would just go on my own, to which Mrs. P said, “No way, are you going to drive that much in four days by yourself. I may cut my throat, but I’ll come with you.”

Knowing how unpleasant this would be, not to mention messy, I have been looking for alternative plans. So I asked Middle Sister if she would like to come along. Mrs. P can stay behind and keep the home fires burning, and I would pick Middle Sister up along the way. It looks like that is going to work. We’ll talk in a day or so to confirm.

*   *   *

I heard a report on Georgia Public Radio this morning that the state mental health folks are going to make all the state mental hospitals smoke-free in January. I don’t smoke and never have, so I don’t really understand the problem. However, a person-who-shall-remain-nameless, to whom I am very close, is a rather enthusiastic smoker. Judging from her reaction when she is deprived for as little as a couple of hours, I suspect if those mental patients weren’t nuts before they gave up their butts, they would be afterwards.

Maybe this is a job-security program for the mental health folks.

Let’s order lunch!

We are having a pizza lunch at work tomorrow as a way of saying “thanks” to all the folks who volunteered their free time to help with our open house event a couple of weeks ago.

So this afternoon, I drove to a new chain-pizza place that just opened in a nearby (8 miles away) strip shopping mall. Since we are ordering for lunch, I wanted to get the order in plenty early. I also wanted to be able to look someone in the eye and make sure they…

a.) Got the order right

b.) Actually understood where to deliver it.

The second part can be an issue. We’re not that difficult to find, but we are a little out of the way. Usually directions to our lab can include the phrase “Just keep going until you think you are lost, and then drive a couple more miles. Oh, and be sure not to hit any of the deer that are running around the woods this time of year.”  Huh???

A couple of our local "fawna" out for lunch themselves. "Did you say 'Pizza?'"

Sometimes the response is, “Don’t worry about it, I have a GPS.” The next conversation with those people is on their cell phone and usually begins with, “Hello? So where are you guys located? My GPS doesn’t seem to recognize your address.”

The guy I talked to was middle aged and had “management” on his name tag. He also seemed to comprehend my hand-drawn map. I am cautiously optimistic.

When I got back to our office, we got to talking about tips. How much should you tip a delivery guy/gal? In a restaurant, the total of the bill is usually a reflection of how much work went into the service, so a percentage works. But what a pizza delivery? If you use a percentage of the bill, is it fair to tip the guy who delivers only one pizza 90% less than the guy who delivers 10? How much more difficult is it to carry ten boxes to the door than just one?

Please understand, I am thinking of decent minimums, not maximums. I figure I should tip at least $5 for an order of $15 or less (33% if you are thinking of percentages), no matter how much less. Then move the scale up from there. I haven’t seen too many rich folks delivering pizza and wings. I just don’t think that is a place to pinch pennies. If you can’t afford a decent tip, you really can’t afford to have your food prepared and delivered to your door.

What do you think?

By the way, our tab tomorrow is $156 for 11 large pizzas. I’ll add $30 to that for a tip. That should help account for the extra gas he/she burns driving around in circles and getting lost on the way here.

A good read

I stayed up too late last night finishing a book. Both Mrs. Poolman and I read for pleasure, she more than I. Mrs. P can knock of a standard paperback book in a single off day.

The book I was reading, The Time Traveler’s Wife, was not my typical fare. I tend to lean more towards action fiction and historical non-fiction. I enjoy authors like John Sandford, James Patterson, W.E.B. Griffin, Tom Clancy, Vince Flynn, John Grisham and Patricia Cornwell. I also have a spot in my heart for Andrew Greely. On the non-fiction side, I consume history, especially military history. And if it flies and shoots, I’m all over it.

All of that is just a way of setting up that I really enjoyed The Time Traveler’s Wife. I have always been intrigued with the fictional treatments of time travel, starting with HG Wells’ The Time Machine and working on up through Michael Crichton’s Timeline (another really outstanding time-travel book, by the way). Before reading it,  I suspected The Time Traveler’s Wife was a literary version of a “chick flick.” You know what I mean – a movie that deals mostly with relationships and emotions and one of the endearing characters dies at the end, usually of a long lingering illness. (See Steel Magnolias, Terms of Endearment, Fried Green Tomatoes, and others.) While The Time Traveler’s Wife does have many of those characteristics (I won’t spoil it by being more specific.) those are balanced out by the fact that it is still an interesting, well written story that moves along.

The story is about Henry and Clare. Henry has a genetic abnormality that causes him to involuntarily travel in time. One moment he is here, and the next, he is stark naked in another place and time. The author, Audrey Niffengger, avoids the cliché of many time-travel authors by not inserting her  character into any historical settings. This is not a story in which the protagonist performs any great or historical acts. Henry’s time travels are much more personal.

Very early on, Henry and Clare meet. Clare is a stranger to Henry, but Clare has known Henry all her life. An older Henry was repeatedly transported back in time to Clare’s childhood. So when they meet, Henry is Clare’s long-time visitor and friend, while Henry has yet to meet Clare in his “real life.” The book develops their relationship, more or less following the chronological pace of Henry’s “real life.” There are lots of adventures and a couple of mysteries.

All told, it was a good book and I’m really glad I read it. It is definitely worth the effort. We didn’t see the movie when it was at the theaters. I’m looking forward to it’s release on DVD in a few months.

A punny day

Is it November already? How did that happen?

Nothing much shaking today,  so I’ll offer you a silly little joke, courtesy of my friend,  Pam.

Two brooms were hanging in the closet and after a while they got to know each other so well, they decided to get married.

One broom was, of course, the bride broom, the other the groom broom.
The bride broom looked very beautiful in her white dress. The groom broom was handsome and suave in his tuxedo. The wedding was lovely.

After the wedding, at the wedding dinner, the bride-broom leaned over and said to the groom-broom, “Honey, I think I’m pregnant. We are going to have a little whisk broom!”

“IMPOSSIBLE !”  said the groom broom.

(Are you ready for this? Brace yourself; this is going to hurt!)

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“We haven’t even SWEPT  together!”