James Gordon Pendleton, 1933-2014

Our family circle is a little smaller tonight.  One of the tallest branches of our family tree has fallen, a man who was friend to many, and whose unceasing service to our community has finally come to a close.  But more than just a cousin, he was also a good friend, an adviser, and always an encourager.  He served on the school board for a number of years, and his signature is one among those found on my high school diploma. He never overlooked a single high school graduation within the family, and that meant a lot to all of us traveling toward adulthood.

As a politician, he was fairly low-key.  He didn't spend time crowing about his accomplishments, because in his eyes, that was a look backwards.  He preferred to always look forwards, to envision what could be, what might be, and then to put his efforts toward making those things happen.  A few years back, at a family get-together, he told me where his political philosophy came from.  He said that when he was considering his first foray into politics, he asked his mother what her thoughts were on the subject.  In her homespun way, she told him, "I reckon nobody ever built a statue for a man who never done nothin'."

Instead of saying "It can't be done," his approach was more thoughtful, more on the order of, "And how do you propose to do that?" He was a lifelong Democrat, but he was also a banker.  He knew which side of the ledger the credits went, and which side the debits went.  He voted against the wishes of his party, if those wishes conflicted with his personal values.  He was less about being on the side of the majority, and more about being on the side of progress, and the side of right. In discussions he might play the devil's advocate, in order that all sides might be heard and considered before an issue was brought to a vote.

He was less about tax-and-spend, and more about investing in our community.  He was an early--and continuous--supporter of the YMCA of Harrison County, among many other institutions that enhance our community.  He donated his own funds to many worthwhile organizations and causes in the area, usually without public recognition or fanfare.

He was born in New Middletown, Indiana in 1933, during the very heart of the Great Depression.  He was one of 5 children, so he learned about the value of a dollar from an early age.  He served in the military, and then graduated from college--quite an accomplishment in his generation.  He started as a teacher and a coach, and in many ways he spent all his life teaching and coaching those around him.... especially those of us who were fortunate enough to be part of his extended family.

Yes, the passing of James Gordon Pendleton will leave quite an empty space...in our family, and in the community.  But I'm proud to have known him, and prouder still to have been a relative who benefited from his knowledge and counsel.  He was humble, but he was about the furthest thing from "a man who never done nothin' " I've ever met.  Maybe he didn't change the whole world, but he sure left a set of footprint in this little corner of it that anyone should be proud to walk in..

For Those Discouraging Days

You get up in the morning, you go out and give it your best, and you go to bed. Then you get up and do the same thing over again. Results, and your effectiveness, are going to vary because that's life. But as long as you've given your best, and done all you can do, even if the result is less than you hoped for you can still have a clear conscience about your own actions. We are never going to save all the orphans [including good causes that have been orphaned], or feed all the hungry [including those who hunger for knowledge, truth, and justice], or make a home for all the homeless [remembering that it's love that makes a home, and not just a roof and four walls]. The best thing any of us can do in our lives is to go out every day and, in our own way, try to make a difference in the world.

Because eventually you will make a difference...if only to one person. And it will be worth it.

One More Adventure

Life's an adventure, I tell ya.

About 2 weeks ago, the single-tube 2-foot [0.6096 meters, for my Facebook friend Dave, what with him being over in Germany and all] fluorescent light over the kitchen sink went out. The fixture's hard-wired with a wall switch, and it's the one I installed about 10 years ago. I've owned the house 20 years as of August 2014, so I guess that 10 years must be the life of these lights. But that's not how the adventure started.

It all started when I went to Wally World and bought a replacement tube...which never made it to my car. [I think the checkout girl either just forgot to put it in a bag, or forgot to give me that bag.] So I called the service desk when I got home, and some regional manager named Allison answered the phone. She told me to come get another one, and tell the folks at the service desk when I get there that "Allison said so."

Wellllll.....it was several days before I made it back to Wally World, but when I told the folks at the service desk that "Allison said so," everything suddenly went my way. I reckon if I'd have told 'em to give me all their money 'cause "Allison said so," I'd have walked out of there a rich man that day. So I got my 2-foot tube, and this time I got home with it.

When I installed it...nada. Nada damn thing changed. So I decided that, since the local hardware folks seldom carried the type of stuff I needed , I'd check out either BLowes or Deep Homo my next trip uptown. Well today was that trip. Before I left, I checked the BLowes website, and they not only listed the fixture I wanted, but the website said it was in stock for immediate pick-up. So I drove the 30 miles to the store...to discover that, not only was it NOT in stock, but the sample in their display was marked "N/A"...as in NOT AVAILABLE.

So I left and drove to another past of town to the closest Deep Homo store...the one with the orange buckets and orange aprons. At Deep Homo, I also discovered I was SOL...simply out of luck...if I wanted to use that newly-purchased but once-installed so no longer returnable 2-foot-long [0.6096 meters long] T8 fluorescent tube. [Maybe if "Allison said so," they'd take it back, but I figured I'd already been lucky once.] BUT I was able to find someone for some customer assistance at Deep Homo...something apparently lacking on the day before Labor Day at BLowes. The employee told me that they apparently no longer carried the 2-foot-long [0.6096 meters long] T-8 fixture, but they'd be happy to sell me a 2-foot long [0.6096 meters long] T-5 fixture. The T-8 bulb is about an inch and a half [3.81 cm] in diameter, and the T-5 is about the size of my middle finger.

So, since I had plans to install the light on Labor day, instead of giving the employee at Deep Homo the middle finger [which I have now dubbed "T-5," just because it makes the REST of the people look at me funny], I bought the T-5 fixture, and will give it a go at installation on Labor Day.

Yep, life's an adventure...except when life is a rock, but the radio rolled me.

Let's Talk About Religion

My religion is one of peace. I won't force my religion on you, and I request that you don't force yours on me. ["Fighting for peace" is like "screwing for virginity"...perhaps George Carlin said that?] I wish to have power over no man, except myself; that is difficult enough a task for most days. And having reached this point, if I treat others as I would wish to be treated myself--offering a hand to those who need it, doing what I can to feed the hungry, and clothe and shelter the needy, to the degree that I am physically and financially able to do so--I would hope that by my example others would take up a similar way of life. 

IF there are any commandments in my religion, they are to treat others as we would wish to be treated, and to not infringe or attempt to impose my will on another. Does that make me better than anyone else? NO, not at all; it simply makes me different from the zealots of all faiths and denominations who feel the need to "recruit" others to their "way." And if others choose to also practice the same things I attempt to practice, they are not "followers" of my "way," but "brethren" [what's the comparable term in a feminine gender?...I know it's not "cistern"...] traveling a similar path. 

I try to live my life in such a way that my life itself is a witness to what I believe; and that as a witness, my life's testimony should not show my words and thoughts to be hypocrisy. Live, laugh, love...with that as my guideline, how could I condone war, or any shedding of blood over an idea, and not be a hypocrite? My fight is not with other men; my fight is within myself, to overcome the weaknesses of character that keep me from fully living as I believe I should.

I honestly believe this is the essence of what true Christianity, or any true religion, should be. As a Christian, I have hope of an afterlife, of a resurrection from the death of this frail body.  But I don't believe that it's something that can be earned, no matter how many good deeds I do in my life, or how well I treat others.  To me, that's akin to working for a paycheck, rather than working because you're doing something that you love.  You do what's decent and honest and honorable because it's decent and honest and honorable...NOT because Mommy promised you a sucker, or Daddy promised you a new car, or because Jesus promised you a home in Eternity.  It's a matter of changing what's in the heart, about going from "What's in it for me?" to "How can I be the best I can be?"

I think that was the essential lesson that Jesus came to teach us.

Happy Birthday, Andy

Thirty-four years ago tonight, I pulled an all-nighter.

OK, maybe I did sleep a couple of hours, but not all at once.

My wife Brenda--Duck, to her friends--and I were expecting our first child. The due date was supposed to have been July 14th, but that one came and went. I was working second shift at the old W. R. Grace fertilizer plant on Grant Line Road in New Albany, and living in a townhouse apartment in Clarksville, on Greentree Boulevard, just across from where the O'Reilly's Auto Parts store now stands. The site where the Grace plant stood then is part of the Wal-Mart, across from the National Guard armory.

I had worked second shift, and just got home. I looked around, and Duck was nowhere to be found downstairs. So I went upstairs, and saw the light on in the bedroom and also in the bathroom, with the bathroom door shut. There was a notebook next to the bed, and when I walked over and saw what was on it, I calmly turned around, went downstairs, and walked back out to our car. The notebook had times written down on it, and the times were 8 to 10 minutes apart. So, realizing it was gonna be a long night, I got back in the car, and drove to the nearby Convenient Food Mart. I bought a frozen pizza, brought it back to the apartment, preheated the oven and baked it...and then ate it. All of it. Long nights following a long shift at work require a lot of fuel, y'know.

Then I went back upstairs. Between trips to the bathroom, Duck had managed to write a few more times on the notebook. So I then made the mistake of asking her why she was spending so much time in the bathroom. She explained to me that one of her friends had told her that she could speed up her labor if she took an enema. So while I was at work, she gave herself an enema--a difficult task for a pregnant woman--by lying on the stairs. [I didn't ask for details...so I can only guess.] But when she decided that the enema wasn't working fast enough to suit her, she gave herself another enema. The second one worked...with a vengeance, apparently.

So finally she was able to stay out of the bathroom for minutes at a time. The pains were getting closer, so she called her OB doctor. [Turned out that HER doctor had decided to go on vacation that week, so his partner was on call.] At around 1 am the pains were close enough that we headed to the hospital, after getting ahold of the OB's partner. Due to my insurance, we had to go to Floyd Memorial Hospital...and in 1980, what we now call the "old section" of Floyd was ALL there was of Floyd.

Once we got to the 4th floor, I spent a lot of time in the waiting room. And of course, the first thing they did to Duck when she got to the hospital was to give her yet another enema. The nursing staff would only allow one person in the labor room with her at a time, so I split my time there with her sister Donna.

Friends, if you have never been involved with a woman going through labor, you have missed a huge slice of life. Sometime during the night, during one particularly rough labor pain, I was called things that no human being should ever be called. I was told that, if this is what having sex leads to, my sex life was over right here and now. And I was told things that I can't recall simply because I'd been up since early the previous morning.

Off and on, I was able to doze in the waiting room . The TV shows at 4 am on the cable channels in 1980 were bizarre...or at least that's how I remember them. I saw one religious show, where the man on the screen was explaining some prophecy, while wearing sunglasses. Then he removed the sunglasses...to reveal another pair of sunglasses under those. And a few minutes later, he removed THAT pair of sunglasses, and he had another pair under the second one. I'm pretty sure I didn't imagine that, but then sleep deprivation between "good old-fashioned cussin's" makes the mind wonder if it saw and heard what I thought I saw and heard.

Finally, around 10 o'clock that Wednesday morning, I was summoned to the delivery room. I put on the paper gown, the mask, the hat, and the funky shoe covers--a challenge for my size 13 feet--and then waited until I was given the OK to enter. What seemed like two minutes later, at 10:23 am on July 23, 1980, our son Mark Andrew Knight was born. I don't remember what he weighed or how long he was, I just remember he was healthy, and the ordeal phase was over.

Not counting the teenage years, of course.

But that's another story for another time.

Happy birthday, Andy!

As Ye Sow, So Shall Ye Reap

The shootings in Las Vegas surely were the acts of mentally unstable people. But were those people not merely putting into practice what some folks preach on places like Facebook every day? The folks I'm talking about are the ones who hate our government, and want everyone else to hate our government just as badly as they do.

Truth be told, if some of these people preaching hate had their way, they would put a bullet in our President and never bat an eye. Well, facing facts, nobody with a gun is going to get anywhere near our President. So the folks who hear all this anti-government preaching and ranting decide to focus not on what they CAN'T do, but what they CAN do.

And the closest part of government, to most people, is the local police force. The two shooters in Las Vegas took out a pair of cops who were having lunch...and then covered their bodies in Gadsden flags, the yellow ones with the legend "DON'T TREAD ON ME." Apparently this indicates that these shooters took that hatred of government talk seriously...deadly seriously.

And I'd bet that the manner in which they died didn't bother them at all, either. My guess is, they considered themselves martyrs for the cause.

As folks kept repeating during the Bill Clinton "debate" over the meaning of the word "is," words DO have meaning. Apparently all that "take our country back" and hatred for government talk echoed within the souls of these two young people. And they acted upon it. Now, I'm sure all the "take our country back" and "hate the government" folks will disavow any connection to the actions of these two shooters; they have to. These shooters were over the edge, mentally. We all have to believe that.

Because that's a whole lot easier than going to the families of the dead officers and the dead civilian and saying, "We didn't really mean it." When you call people to action, never forget that words have meaning, and actions have consequences. And people WILL take your words literally, even if you meant them in a figurative sense. And once those words are said, they can never be unsaid.

The hatemongers who influenced these shooters are no less culpable in this case than the hippies in the '60's who preached "revolution" while never thinking that others would take THEM seriously and plant bombs that would kill innocent people.

That's my opinion on the subject. No doubt yours is quite different.

Never, EVER Settle...

Never, ever settle for less than you're worth, or for a result that's less than what you're worth.

In June, 1973, the band Aerosmith released the single "Dream On" from their self-titled album. The song peaked at #59 nationally. The song was re-issued in early 1976, debuting at #81 on the charts. This time, the song continued to climb, peaking at #6 on the Billboard Hot 100.

In 1975, KISS released the studio version of "Rock And Roll All Night," from their album "Dressed To Kill," and the song peaked at #57 on the Billboard charts. But a live version, from their "Alive" album, was released in October of 1975, and that version reached #12 on the national charts.

These two bands COULD HAVE settled for the original result. But they believed in themselves, and they believed in the product...and eventually the public believed as well.

A good lesson for us all. Believe in yourself. Believe in what you're doing. If you can't believe in what you're doing, no one else will, either. If you can't believe in what you're doing, then CHANGE what you're doing, and change what you're doing to something you CAN believe in.

Thoughts On Getting Older

As morbid as this may sound, lately I've been thinking a lot about preparing more for the end of my life. I'm not so egotistical that I can't accept the fact that my life someday WILL end, nor do I presume that it will continue for a long time from now. But I find it frustrating that it seems my entire working life--from my years of auto parts, welding, and my training at IVY Tech--has all led me to where I feel confident that I can build my lifelong dream, my street rod pickup truck...but now that I have the experience, education, and training to do it, I find myself too broke to actually do it.

And now I'm experiencing the aches and pains that "traditionally" go with being my age. Before I turned 50, I could pretty much do all the stuff I did when I was 20. When I turned 55, the deterioration started for real. And now, as I'm in my 60th year, I'm finding I suffer from sore joints and muscles without the benefit of knowing what--if anything--I did to cause the pain.

But it's the combination of all these things that has me thinking that I need to make sure that loose ends are getting tied up, and that I begin to take on fewer, not more, responsibilities. I'll not be seeking any long-term financing for any projects, and I'm not seeing a "lifetime membership" in anything as a financially sound investment. I'm not depressed--other than the part about my truck--but every day, I find myself asking myself, "What are they [the folks who count on me to do things] going to do when I die? I realize that I'm no more indispensable than anyone else...but I'm already thinking that as one by one our pets make their way across that rainbow bridge, I can't consider replacing them, much less adding to their numbers...because I want to be able to adequately care for them, and the older I get, the harder it gets.

That's also why I'm committing to fewer and fewer promises, even with good friends. I'm just finding myself less and less able to deliver on such promises. And I don't make promises lightly. I wish I could do more for friends and family, sure...but my physical resources just don't allow for that as much as I'd like. I can't run on empty at all any more...not like I did when I was working 2 jobs, or 3 jobs including the weekends, when I was younger. Maybe I just used myself up over the years, but I don't have the reserves I did a few years ago. And it leaves me feeling bad for those around me, more than it leaves me feeling sorry for myself. I can't contribute as much to their lives as I'd like. And as much as I'd like to think I could "turn it around," at this age there's just not as much ability to "bounce back" as I used to have.

So I'm facing my own mortality, and realizing that , in my 60th year, it'll be here sooner rather than later. Now, I plan to put THAT off as long as I can...BET ON IT. But I'm enough of a realist that I can see it on the road ahead; I just don't have the depth of field yet to judge the distance involved. So If I turn you down when you ask something of me, PLEASE don't take it personally. It's not you...REALLY.

It's me.