Take Care of Those Paper Angels

Grateful for our two

Newhart and Politics

I went looking for some classic Newhart, one particular scene, but happened upon this instead.  We all need a good political laugh nowadays.

You Ain't Nothin But a Hound Dog

So in all this excitement, I've developed some type of head/chest congestion.  It's great, really. 

I've gone from sounding like this:

To this:

At least the guys at work like it.  Though, Bob is kinda sick of hearing me bark.

I'm an AUNT

Congratulate me.

If all goes well, as of this minute I'll be a new aunt again.

My niece will have "delivered" two girls, given to her by the Grace of God and the State of Indiana. These two sisters are now ours.

Thank you God. Thank you, State of Indiana. Thank you New Mom and Dad.   Congrats Grandma and Grandpa!

Spirit of Christmas

Bah Humbug.

Christmas was always magical to me.  We didn't have a lot growing up, but Mom always made sure we had wonderful Christmases.  Christmas started earlier and earlier each year because when my parents were done "finding" all the presents from Santa, they would wake us up, even in the middle of the night. 

Christmas "mornings" remind me of the many mornings of being awaken at 2 or 3 in the morning and my parents leading us to all of the presents Santa had managed to save up for most of the year.  One whiff of coffee brewing brings me right back to that morning when I received a "real" china play set.  I asked mom to put some water in the tea pot and she returned the tiny china to me with REAL coffee.  My brothers wheeled up to my diner in their new Radio Flyer wagon. 

Sadly the kids nowdays will never remember the smell of a new transistor radio.  I should bottle that and sell it as perfume, I would make a fortune.

Thank you Mom for making Christmas so special.

I miss those days.  I loved Christmastime even after I grew up.  Twenty years ago I would decorate for days.  I put up a live Christmas trees even when I lived alone.

Eighteen years ago last May, I was again newly married.  In June my dad retired.  In August he was diagnosed with liver cancer. 

His last Christmas was also his last birthday.  He turned 60 on December 25, 1991.  He died just barely a month after that. 

From that time until now, Christmas has been hard.  Too much sadness and too much drama.  Bob suffers his own Christmas nightmares,  mine are more recent. 

But by Christmas Eve, all that changes.  My family has been been celebrating Christmas on Christmas Eve since we grew up enough to realize Santa had already visited.  

Last week I found online a song that described my feelings about Christmas now.   I found it here.


This precious girl who has an amazing voice now has a family who loves her after losing both of her parents.  Her courage and strength amazes me.  

I was hoping to embed her version within this post, but found that I couldn't.  So I've embedded below the original song.  It doesn't compare to Katie's version or her strength.  God Bless this child.  If she can look for hope at Christmas, surely the rest of us can also.




"Where Are You Christmas"
Words and music by James Horner
Copyright © 2000

Where are you Christmas
Why can't I find you
Why have you gone away
Where is the laughter
You used to bring me

Why can't I hear music play
My world is changing
I'm rearranging
Does that mean Christmas changes too?

Where are you Christmas
Do you remember
The one you used to know
I'm not the same one
See what the time's done
Is that why you have let me go

Christmas is here
Everywhere, oh
Christmas is here
If you care, oh
If there is love
In your heart and your mind
You will feel like Christmas all the time

I feel you Christmas
I know I've found you
You never fade away
The joy of Christmas
Stays here inside us
Fills each and every heart with love

Where are you Christmas
Fill your heart with love


SOOOO, wait.   I just got this letter posted on my family web from my new niece who will legally be my niece on Wednesday morning...

The marked out words said "but if I end up with another family, I'll never forget you.  But I know that will never happen."  

God Heals All Wounds.  Never Forget It.

Dad, you would have loved your new great grandbaby girls. 

Toys for Boys

This is a great gift for a little boy....

Well, until it tangles up with his sister's hair....

Scissors please.

Sometimes it still stings.

But grandbabies nephews and nieces help

Who's That Sleeping On My Floor

On Saturday morning, I never knew who to expect might be camping out in our living room. I was young, probably 12 or so. I cannot tell you how many mornings I would wake up and walk to our living room and find a kid or two sacked out under a blanket.

They were always friends of my brothers. Some had parents who really just didn't care about them, some were just lonely because they were only children. All were welcome in our house.

I had nearly forgotten about all those kids until last night. Most just stayed a night here and there, a couple lived with us for a month or two or three. I can't tell you how many there were, more than four, probably less than a dozen.

Not all of the stories had happy endings. Most grew up to be decent functioning adults, one ended up in prison. But none of them, none of them ever betrayed the trust my parents had placed in them by letting them stay at our house. I never remember feeling threatened, these kids were part of our family and when our dad lay dying years later, some returned to our house and reminisced about the old days. For many, my dad and mom were the only true parents they had ever really known.

Nearly a year ago my mother told me that my niece and her husband were thinking about adopting two little girls. Given the number of "stray" kids that were part of my upbringing, I would have assumed that my first reaction would have been a big smile. I hate to admit it, but my first reaction was that my niece didn't realize what she may be getting herself into. I worried.

But oh, how I underestimated my niece's instinct along with the joy these two precious girls would bring in my own life.

In a week and a half these two little girls will forever be legally tied to our family. But they have been tied to our hearts from the very first meeting.

Which leads me to another story. Imagine taking in a kid off the street. A teenager, a black kid in a white millionaire neighborhood. A kid who was homeless, whose mother was an addict and a background you were unfamiliar with.

I would love to believe that my heart and faith would be bigger than my fear of the unknown. I want to be that person, but I know I will never be.

But there are some people who do the right thing, no matter what. There are people in this world who turn a blind eye to the fear of taking in a troubled teenager.

Last night we went to see The Blind Side. A true story of the Touhy family who took in Michael Oher. A VERY big black teenager who had no home. They brought him in their millionaire neighborhood, fed, clothed him and changed his life.

What would have become of Michael Oher had this family been too fearful to let him into their home with their teenage daughter and young son?

I don't know the answer to that, but I would bet everything I own that his life would not have turned out like it has.

Obviously Michael Oher was a special kid, not letting his early life affect how he percieved the world, but then so are the Touhy's.

The movie was wonderful from start to finish. It would have been a great fictional story, but it's not fiction. It's too amazing to be fiction.

If you haven't yet, go see The Blind Side. It will just make you hopeful that you might be able to change one person's life.

My niece is changing two.

What a wonderful Christmas gift WE'VE been given.

Angel Flight

From Radney Foster's website:

I have so many things to be thankful for this year: My country, my home, family, friends, and fans like you.

Today of all days, I would ask that all of us remember those who are not able to make it home to their families for Thanksgiving. I'm thinking especially of the brave men and women who serve in our military, including those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for our country.

I wrote the song "Angel Flight," to tell the story of the aircrews who fly fallen soldiers home to their final resting place.

I hope you'll take a moment to watch the video, and pass it on to your friends.

Proceeds from "Angel Flight" benefit the Texas National Guard Family Support Foundation, which provides assistance to military families beset by tragedy. Please have a safe and joyous holiday, and hug your loved ones close.

Radney

Thanksgiving Tradition

It's food, of course.

Twenty-five years ago or so, I was eating at my sister's mother-in-law's and asked her for the recipe for the beef noodles she had.  She told me it was actually an Amish recipe.

My first try I had a pot full of chicken broth and didn't realize that the broth should actually be boiling before you drop the noodles.  They lanquished there in one big lump.  I caught on pretty quickly

Since that time my chicken and noodles have become a family tradition.  We have tried to keep all other family gatherings less hectic, but come Thanksgiving it's a must that I make the chicken and noodles.  As my nieces and nephews have grown into adults, the amount I need to make has grown disportionately. 

I've decided to share the recipe with the world.  OK, I know the world won't read my post, but I know my mom at least does.  You're there, right mom?  Mom?

Anyway.   Here goes.  The BIG secret?   Home made chicken broth. 

DON'T start with this stuff.

You have to use this.

Please don't tell me how unhealthy the chicken fat is, this is old fashioned cooking.  Like food made back in the day when women looked like my grandma. 

My Grandma

Back in the day when women were not made to look like this.

This is real food.  So, just don't eat it everyday.  This IS Thanksgiving afterall.

Since this takes hours, I normally make the chicken broth a few weeks ahead of time and freeze it along with all the chicken I have picked off the bones.  With the amount I need to make these days, I sometimes do this in bunches, at least 4 chickens or what I would call "equivalent" chickens.   You don't need four whole chickens, but at least several chicken breasts and lots of bony chicken parts that will provide you with alot of good brothy juice.  I dig out my way-too-expensive-but-I-don't-regret-a-penny Pampered Chef roaster and throw all the cut up chicken into it along with a few inches of water.  Then it bakes for three, four hours until the chicken falls off the bone.  Pick the meat and put in in one ziploc bag and strain the wonderful broth into one or two others.  The skin and bones go back into the pan with more water and extract the last drop of broth possible with another couple of hours. 

I prefer to make the noodles on Thanksgiving, but fighting for premium stove space isn't always practical, so I resort to making and cooking the noodles the night before.  That also carries some risk.  Mainly because at least half of our crew is usually onsite the night before, which means that it's nearly impossible to keep from losing at least a third of your work the night before as the vultures hover over the noodles, circling until they are officially done. 

The Recipe:

                     Serves 4                Serves a crowd

Egg Yolks            2                        14
Milk                    3T                      1 1/8 cup (wait to add all in case the consistency needs adjusting)
Salt                     1t                        2T 2t

Mix together

Crisco                  1t                       2T 2t   (cut into small bits in the mixture with a couple forks)

Flour                    2/3 c                  4 2/3c
Baking Powder    1/2 t                   1T 1/2t

Mix all together.  Should be somewhat moist.  Don't overwork.


I throw alot of flour onto waxed paper and flatten a handful of dough out.  Roll to about 1/4 inch thick, flouring liberally.  I cut the noodles into small thin strips and pile them onto the side while I roll out the remaining dough.

The chicken and broth should be boiling hot in a good heavy pot.  HA, wish someone had told me that the first time.  Drop the noodles in a few handfuls at a time while stirring to keep from sticking together.  Add more when the noodles appear separated and the broth looks nearly ready to boil.  Turn the heat to low or medium after all noodles are in and stir often to avoid sticking. 


LOTS of pepper.  And don't forget the salt.  A good 30 minutes or so later that's all there is to it.

This time tomorrow they should be ready.  Come on over.

No Words

Know Your Candidate's Stance

Just found this online   Regardless of your political leaning, reviewing the current voting records of those in elected offices is very informative.

Here's one that is up to date. 

UPDATE: This was apparently only being updated during the Presidential election, however I found it interesting to see Mike Pence's voting record.

For my liberal family and friends, you may not want to watch the video, but I believe in this man enough to post it.

The Bad Guys Always Wear Black

Quick question.   How many of you would open the door of your house and let two complete strangers in that look like this?

If I saw these guys at my door, I have no doubt I would not only not even go to the door, I'd be calling 911 before they even hit the front porch.

Now on the other hand, let's imagine another set of strangers that just might look like these guys.

Who would look at those two and hear that little voice in your head that tells you to be cautious?  Voices?  None, nothing, nada, zip. 

And so it went this morning for my father-in-law. 

A couple of normal looking guys come to the front door, which has security bars on it and fast talk their way into their very modest home.  They had a roll of linoleum.  My father-in-law can't hear that well and these guys managed to fast talk their way into the house.  I can only assume my father-in-law couldn't hear them and absentmindedly let them in the house.  They looked like normal guys, right?

The fast talking began and they claimed they were opening a store and one held up the linoleum roll while the second guy made his way into a spare bedroom and proceeded to go to the closet and steal a box of gold coins. 

Somewhere along the way, they found my mother-in-law and one of the "hope-you-burn-in-hell" men greeted her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  While the linoleum was still being shown to my father-in-law, he hears the front door shut.  Then the other guy leaves quickly, they jump in their car and they are gone in just a few short minutes.

I'm aching for my in-laws tonight.  The slap of reality that these two scum were in their house and knew right where to go within just minutes will leave them sleepless and scared for how many nights?  And the worry if they could be coming back, next time for something even worse.

Bob was just a few minutes away by the time his mother called.  He arrived as the police were still there.

Bob told the detectives that the guys had to know there was an elderly couple that lived there.  They knew the layout of the house and they knew where to look for the coins. 

Two weeks ago, they had cable installed and a week ago, another cable guy came back out to fix the signal.  When Bob mentioned that to the detectives, his mother said they didn't go into the bedroom.  Bob pointed out that the cable guy was there awhile and they could easily spend a few minutes without the constant eyes of my in-laws.

The cable guys have been the only strange guys in the house lately.  The more we've thought about it, the more we're convinced one of them may be working with these con artists.  He can tell them which are likely victims and where something of value may be. 

It was all too slick not to have had prior knowledge of the people, the house and the location of valuables.

It's a good reminder for us all to stay with repairmen, cable men, and strangers you have in your house all of the time they are there. 

These scum didn't just steal away with a few gold coins, they stole my in-laws' security, peace of mind and, I have no doubt, left my father-in-law feeling like a fool.  It just makes me sick.  But, they were very, very lucky that it was just a few coins and not some tragic event that we would have been hearing about on the news tonight.

Tonight, please say a little prayer for their continued safety and for some peace.

Coming Soon.......

From October through May. 

Florida Stone Crab Claws.

Right now, I'm imagining November 15th or 16th, I'll be enjoying a plateful of these babies, making a mess as I crack the claws.  Dipping and dripping them in warm butter. 

Best meal on the face of the planet.

Go Rest High on That Mountain

This wonderful woman finally went Home on Thursday evening.

While I thought that last post months ago was written on her final days, she rallied back like she had so many times before.

Last weekend we got a call from my husband's ex who told us Great Grandma had said she missed us. I'm thankful for that call. We went to see her last Sunday. She was so much more alert than I had seen her in months and she was so excited to see us.

She laughed, she cried, we laughed, we cried. Her arms were covered in the bruises from the IVs and I told her she looked like she was in a fight. She told me she had and she always WINS. God, I loved her spirit. What an inspiration. She told me that she would be 99 in January and she was going to make it. I believed her, although you could hear that her lungs just sounded tired.

I reached down to touch her hand and she smiled and held on for the entire time we were there.

She told us she would see us again "if not here, then in heaven." At that time her voice broke. Although her vision was almost gone, she looked back at Bob and said, "This stinker is going to be around a long time." We all laughed.

She talked about our grandkids, her great great grandkids. She missed them. She saw them alot when her granddaughter (Bob's ex) watched them before they were in school. She left this world with 20 grandchildren, 29 great grandchildren and 9 great great grandchildren. And us, not now legally related, only by the heart. I loved her and I could see her eyes light up when we would walk in the room. Divorce doesn't always end in broken relationships, sometimes it just adds to the family. I'm fortunate they allowed me that relationship with this wonderful wonderful woman.

I will miss her so.

So How Was Your Commute?

Luckily I got word early that my normal route to and from work would not be available.

Here's why...

Looks like that section of the interstate may be closed for weeks.  A tanker truck crashed below, taking out a support and weakening the steel beams. 

News reports indicate the truck driver was pulled from the truck just prior to the fire and a couple people have non-life threatening injuries/burns.  Keep them in your prayers.

How Well Do You Know Your Neighbors?

How much would you pay for a mailbox?


I mean a NICE mailbox. 

Bob (not MY Bob, but the one who used to live in the house across the street) ended up spending close to $1k for their mailbox.

Oh no, he never intended on spending that, but Bob made the mistake of not calling what is referred to around here as "Holey Moley".  See, even though we live in a rural community,  you are supposed to call Holey Moley a couple days in advance before digging on your property.  They come out and mark your property where the underground wires are buried.

Some distracted and/or drunk driver took out both our mailbox and Bob's.  So Bob decided to "plant" a really nice mailbox.  He dug and dug and dug.  At one point his wife was there with him, so I decided to tease them both a bit and took a cold beer from our fridge and walked it out to him while he repaired their mailbox.

A couple hours later I see a telephone truck driving V E R Y  S L O W L Y down our road.  Obviously they stop when they see fresh dirt.  Evidence. I checked our phone line and yep, it's working.  Not so much for the people on down the road from us.  Bob, the Neighbor get's a nice large bill from the phone company later.

We liked to tease him about his expensive mailbox.  Bob was the type of guy that you just had to love.  We told ourselves I don't know how many times that we needed to go out to dinner with them.  But life gets in the way and time moves on.

Bob always had a certain charm about him.  He and his wife had been married for years and you could just tell that he had spent his younger years having a bit too much to drink and getting into several bar fights along the way.  Bob's wife had spent those years somehow managing to tolerate his wild days and they had learned how to mature into a wonderful couple.  From the few times I talked with them, it was evident that Bob had settled down somewhat and  his wife loved him throughout.

They built a big house across the street from us along with 10 acres, installing not only a swimming pool, but digging a big pond, nearly lake size in the very back.  Their boys blessed with them 6 grandkids, at times living with them when they were between houses.  Bob and Betty lived for those grandkids.

In the summer, we would wave across the street when Bob was cutting his grass with his zero-radius turn tractor and in a heavy snowstorm, we would find the two of them in a pickup with a snowblade in our driveway, scraping the snow for us.  More than once, I would slip on some shoes and run Bob out a cold beer for the favor.

Three winters ago, we had a tremendous snow storm.  My company was closing, so I was working from home upstairs.  I heard the noise and I see Bob and Betty in his truck in our drive.  The snow was too deep and I was too busy to take him a beer.  The snow was so bad that Wednesday, they plowed our drive twice, along with everyone else's in the neighborhood. 

They had decided to build an even bigger home a few miles away.  We didn't want to see them go and they had trouble selling the house across from us.  It was right before the real estate downfall, but Bob wanted alot of money for the 10 acres and the house.  ALOT of money.  In the meantime, the new house was being built and Bob had his own plumbing business, specializing in new construction.  New construction was plummeting, houses (especially in the 3/4 million price range) weren't selling.  All in all, it was just plain bad timing. 

March 2007, I was fighting my own demons.  I had just spent 4 days in critical care with septic shock and was shocked at how quickly you can seem healthy and then be fighting for your life and not even realize it.

I was weak but recovering.  Bob and Betty moved to their new home and they got a last minute offer on their house across from us.  A few weeks later, the deal fell through.

At 9:30 p.m. while out celebrating my birthday in early April, I see my doc's name pop up on my cell phone.  An unexpected call from your doc at 9:30 on a Friday night can not be a good sign.

He's reading the reports from my hospital stay in March. The report has nothing to do with the septic shock, but a CAT scan they did while I was there.

"solid mass off the left ovary"

I know what that means.  I had listened to one of my closest friends for five years as her sister fought stage IV ovarian cancer.   I know "solid mass" is rarely good.

Short story.....I see my family doc, we schedule an appointment with my ob/gyn.  I wait to tell the rest of the family.

They had been shaken enough over my little "spell" of the septic shock, bacteremia, pyelonephritis episode just four weeks before.  There is no need to worry them over something (even if it's a solid mass) until I know what we're dealing with.

At the same time we were closing on some additional vacation property in Florida.  My company had shut down and I was talking with another company about a contract position.

But always in the back of my mind is the scary thought that I might have to tell my mother I have ovarian cancer.  I was still incredibly weak from the sepsis.  I would spend a day helping to get our new place put together, then I would be down for a couple days recovering from the energy it took out of me.

And when I would lay down, those dark thoughts would enter my mind.  How in the name of God would I tell my family, my MOTHER that I might have ovarian cancer.  I did not yet even have a diagnosis, but I still felt the guilt. 

So one bright sunny day while we were returning from the beach, Bob's phone rings from one of our neighbors.  Everytime we go through that intersection, I remember that phone call.  Bob, the Neighbor was dead.  It didn't make sense.  He was only 52, how can that be?

At first it seemed like a tragedy, but then more information came through. 

It seemed as though Bob may have gotten themselves into just a bit of financial trouble and with the retraction of the contract, he was even under greater stress.

He had spent the evening at their new home, gone outside to play with the dog, talked with a good friend, then drove to his office.

He wrote a note to both of his boys and one to his wife.  He called her and said he was not coming home.  Then he called 911 and said they would find someone dead at the office, hung up the phone and shot himself in the heart.

I had probably only talked with Bob the Neighbor a half dozen times in the dozen years he lived in the neighborhood.  He was so delightful, helpful and as I said, charming.  But you could also sense that there had always been a selfishness there too.   But no one, no one in the neighborhood would have ever guessed he would have done such a horrible thing to his wife, his sons, his grandkids who adored him and to US. 

Suicide is the ultimate selfish act. 

Tonight Bob and I drove home and looked over at their old house and cried and cursed Bob the Neighbor again.  And we barely knew him.

I was angry when we found out three years ago.  I had been spending days feeling guilty that I might have to tell my family I could have some deadly disease and here was some wonderfully, funny, selfish man who inflicted that horrible pain on his famly that will be etched into their very souls forever. 

I'm still angry.    How could you hurt your grandkids, how could you do that to your sons, how could you leave that pain and guilt on your wife and how is it that you never had a clue of the sadness your suicide would inflict on your friends and neighbors?    And Bob?  I'm sorry I didn't just run through the last of the 3 feet of snow and hand you a beer when you plowed our drive for the last time ever.   There will never be another snowfall that I don't regret not getting you that beer and I won't cuss you out anyway for doing something so selfish, painful and permanent.

Note To Self

When closing the liftgate on your SUV, check EVERYWHERE.

Including where your head is!

Excuse me while I go find the pain killers.

Let's Teach Our Kids Respect for America

Fishin' buddies

Have you ever met someone where there was an instant connection?

You know, within just a couple of minutes your souls bond and nothing....nothing on earth can change it. Not distance, not time, not age, not anything.

Sometimes I think God just sits upstairs and connects two souls just because it's a fun thing to do.

Here are two but for the grace of God would have never, ever met, but now they are related and not just in a family connection.

(Releasing the fish she caught.)


The same is true for her sister and me. There is just simply something there that can't be explained in earthly terms.

If you notice my tight grip on this little girl, I'm pretty sure I have needed her more than she's needed me.

Tony Stewart's Underwear

OK, I must be on a video streak, but this is just too funny. (Awwww, I hate it when the video overtakes the rest of the screen.)

Innovative Toys

Growing up, we had the most wonderful, exciting toys and games you can imagine. And that IS the word, isn't it? Imagine, Imagination?

No one had heard of video games, kids didn't sit in front of TV's watching cartoons. They were only on early on Saturday mornings, and I don't recall spending much time in front of the black and white, 4 channel TV.

So what did we do?

When I was born we lived in a "double" on Rural Street. They're called "duplexes" now. We moved out to the "country" when I was four, but I can still recall a little bit about living there. Our version of a playground was sliding down our stairs on our butts.

Over and over.

I'm surprised we didn't end up with splinters that would have been hard to explain.

Video games? I suppose the closest we came to that was when we would sit in front of our neighbors oven and stare at the little window and the light inside.

Ok, I have never claimed we were the brightest bulbs on the street.  But I do remember sitting in front of an oven that looked like this and thinking it was funny letting our mouths drop open and utter, "uhhhhhhh".  I don't know how my parents resisted hitting us upside our heads to make us stop.

We had a tiny backyard that was bare of grass.  I suppose when you have four little rugrats running around, there would be no way you could manage to keep a little grass growing back there.  My brother Mike loved it since he could spend hours creating roads in the dirt for his little cars.

Our neighbors who shared the half of the double had only one son.  At the time it seemed like they were rich.  Ricky had every toy you can imagine.  Of course we weren't allowed to play with them.  Not sure I can blame them, who would want 4 rugrats destroying your kid's toys.

Since my siblings were 6, 5 and 4 years older than me, naturally there were some toys that I was too little for. 

To this day, I can still remember the most coveted thing my siblings received. They each got a package of what I referred to as "Dick Tracy Sparkledy Paints". 

Of course I was not allowed to touch them.  But OH how I wanted them.

For my 50th birthday, my sister bought me a "sparkledy" paint kit.  It wasn't Dick Tracy, but it'll do. 

I am saving it for some special time when I can share it with some other little girl.

For those that think American Idol never produced any talent.

This one's for the guys.

My God, this woman is gorgeous and talented. I thought Bob was going to have a heart attack watching this video.

Have you no shame? Have you no decency?

This man's speech said it all.

How it Works

Let's say, you have been hired to do a job. 

Your job is to process papers and move them to the next area.

Intuitively, you know that processing papers would obviously entail that you process them correctly before moving them to Next Area.  You like your job, you are thorough, fast and accurate.

Along comes a great idea from Management.  They want to incent you to do your job better and quicker.

So they devise a plan.

The Compensation Plan for Processors.

"If Mr/Ms Processor processes the paperwork and it averages that 95% of the paperwork arrives to Next Area within 3 days in any given month, that said Processor will recieve an additional bonus compensation payable on the 15th."

Everyone hails the Great Plan. 

About three months into the Great Plan, something seemed to go wrong.  The overall goal in the Great Plan by Management was to actually finalize the ENTIRE transaction sooner, not just Processor time.

But what happened?  You could refer to it as the Great Unspoken Conspiracy Among Processors.

Mr/Ms Processor realized it didn't matter if Paperwork was complete or accurate or ready for Next Area.  And there was no Penalty Clause in the Great Plan for having Paperwork returned to Processor because it was either not complete or accurate.

The days to finalize the transaction actually increased rather than decreased.  And the Processor compensation not only did not suffer, but was rewarded.

Thus began what Big Bad Banking Company called enlightenment.

You Get What You Incent.

No quality standards within the Great Plan resulted in no quality. 

This account is a true story.  The names were changed to protect the innocent.

When we were still only 48.

Who couldn't love Red Skelton?  

I wish I had appreciated this time back "in the day".  And I wish we could have entertainers like this again.  

H/T to Beej.

SAFE

Joseph began his "career" as a clerk in a general store.  Three years later, he and a friend purchased 30 acres of land.  The purchase was what I guess you could call "profitable".

The next year Joseph and his partner started a dry goods store. 

But Joseph had what no other merchant in town possessed.

A safe.

The other merchants began leaving their money in Joseph's safe.  It became known as "the safest safe in town."

Twenty years later, he formally opened an official bank, in the middle of a Civil War.

Along the way, Joseph helped build toll roads, was a delegate to the Republican National Convention, and continued building several companies and routes from Indianapolis to Greenwood.

William G. Irwin, Joseph's son, after graduating from Butler University, began working as a cashier at Irwin Bank.  Eventually Will succeeded his father as President of the bank.

Clessie Cummins never made it past the 8th grade.

He was rural farm boy and eventually was hired.  As Will's driver and mechanic.

And you've likely heard of him although you may not know it.

While working for Will, he designed a new diesel engine.  So much for formal education.

Together they founded Cummins Engine in 1919.

Hugh Miller was hired as the Assistant Cashier of Irwin Bank and must have presumably courted and married Will's niece, eventually he followed up by becoming the President of Irwin Bank.  Their son, J.I. continued the family businesses and together with his sister set about making Columbus, Indiana a remarkable "small" town in the middle of nowhere. 

In 1954, J.I. created Cummins Foundation and funded world reknown architecture in the small town by the likes of Eero Saarinen, Eliel Saarinen, I.M. Pei, Kevin Roche and Richard Meier.  In Nov/Dec 2008's National Geographic Traveler's Magazine, Columbus was named 11th of 109 historic destinations.

Irwin Union Bank continued to grow.  When banking laws were changed in Indiana to allow branches outside of contiguous counties, Irwin was the first bank to purchase a bank.  Midwest National Bank had been a minority owned bank in downtown Indianapolis and was experiencing some difficulty.  Irwin purchased the bank, eventually selling it to Huntington Bank.  They also bought Inland Mortgage.  The bank and holding company were innovative, growing, prospering.  Inland Mortgage became very successful.

In 1990, J. I.'s son, Will became the Chairman and CEO of the bank holding company.  Will had been on the bank's board since 1985.  Becoming active in the management, Will did not immediately storm his way through the daily detail of actually running the company.  Instead, he would sit in management meetings and committee meetings and take long notes.  Some were impressed that he didn't waltz in the door and assume he knew how to manage the company on a day-to-day basis.

By the time J. I. and his wife passed away, they had amassed quite a fortune.  The Miller House had become a museum of sorts, designed by Saarinen and contained a collection that ended up at the Christie's Auction in London.

A single Monet painting was sold in 2008 for 80 MILLION DOLLARS.

Last Friday night, a few people dressed in business suits walked in the door at 5:30 p.m. and forever closed the doors of Irwin Union Bank.

If you're looking for an evil villian here, I can't help you.  There was no one looking to make a fortune.  In case you missed it, the fortune had already been made.

Did they make mistakes?  Of course.

Did they get involved with what is now considered "risky" real estate business?  In hindsight, absolutely.

But, I'm sure there are more than a few tears in this non-sleepy little town of 40,000.   It's not the end of a bank, it's the death of an era.

Tiara World

When my niece asked me to be her Matron on Honor several years ago, I was more than a little stunned and thrilled.  The thought still brings tears to my eyes.

The day she got married, she decided that all "the girls" in the wedding would have their hair done at a local beauty shop.  It seemed like it took forever to get her style done.  When it was about half way there, I was getting a little worried, it looked a bit odd, but by the time they were done it was absolutely beautiful. 

My sister had made her veil and the beautician only had to put the tiara part in her hair and the rest could be attached at the church.   So the bride and all the girls all walked back to the car.  My niece was driving and since it was mid-day, we thought we would run through McDonald's drive through.  The line was long, but we passed the time chit chatting like "girls" do right before a wedding.  We finally made it up to order and then slowly poked along getting up to the window to pay.

My niece went to hand the lady the money and the lady said, "Oh, you don't owe anything."  We were all confused.  She said, "The car ahead of you already paid." 

We see a white SUV pulling away.  My niece says, "But we don't know them."  "Well, they paid for your meal."

What a sweet memorable gesture.  And now, several years later we still talk about how some wonderful stranger apparently saw "the bride" behind her in line and decided to give the bride an unexpected gift.

My niece said, "Cool, we should always wear tiaras."

Fast forward to a couple months ago.

My niece is in the middle of adopting two wonderfully sweet girls.  The littlest one thinks she's a princess and wore a tiara during one of the visits to my sisters.  When it had fallen off her head, I stuck it on mine.  It didn't take long before I completely forgot about it.  I usually stick my sunglasses on my head and it's really easy to forget. 

Several hours later we were about to leave for a restaurant and someone mentioned my tiara.  THANK GOD.  Someone else said they should have just not mentioned it to me.  Nice.

Then my niece related a recent story.  She was at home and had also taken her new daughter's tiara and stuck it on her head, completely forgetting it was there.

Hours later when she came in from mowing the lawn, she saw herself in the mirror.

Imagine what the neighbors thought.

H/T to Thoughtsofaregularguy.

I Love This Dad

What a CATCH!  I just love the way he hugs his baby girl after she does the unthinkable.



Little Girl Tosses Back Foul Ball - Watch more Funny Videos

Chaplain Mychal Judge

Another Reminder: Heroes are NOT from Hollywood or DC.

Letters From Home

No, This was NOT because I am Blonde.

When we first decided to join the church I referred to in my last post, they had a dinner one night at the church for the new members. 

While few of our friends can believe it, Bob and I are actually still shy, especially when we are in a big crowd of people we don't really know.  One on one, no one can detect it, but it's really difficult when we are invited to a group where we don't know anyone or only know a handful of people.

So we go to this dinner and just inside the front door was a table where we were to write out our names on nametags.  Having to write a nametag evokes some bad demons on those of us that have that closet shyness that they desperately try to hide from everyone. It immediately signals that "fight or flight" syndrome meaning that to stay after that point will mean we actually have to speak and think of something to say

There were a couple dozen tables past that where we were to sit.  As I was starting to fill out my nametag, Troy suddenly appeared and he and Bob were talking away. 

I handed Bob the marker to write his name and he told me to just fill it out for him.  He does that alot, so I didn't think much about it.  I was listening to Bob and Troy and I began to fill out his nametag without actually paying much attention to what I was doing. 

If you've ever had a little bit of shyness (which as I said, people find it really hard to believe either of us are now), you'll realize that you spend alot of time worrying about where you'll sit, who you will sit with, what you will say.  It's silly, really.  I compensate for it by trying my darndest to remember that everyone likes it if you just ask them questions about themselves and you just start a conversation.

It's still not something I like to do. 

So, anyway.  I'm listening to Bob and Troy and I'm wondering where we'll sit and if we'll just be out of place and etc, etc etc.

Then I hear Bob ask me slowly (and not exactly quietly), "W H A T  

A R E  Y O U  D O I N G?"   I'm confused by his question and then I look down at where he is looking, which is where I am writing his nametag. 

I swear, I looked at my hand like it was an alien hand or possessed (which isn't a good thing in a church).

At the tips of my fingers was the nametag and a black marker with some weird hand that had just written:

G e o    

and the possessed hand was just about to write an R.  I was writing the name George on Bob's nametag.  I'm pretty certain that my eyes bugged out of my head kinda like that Twilight Zone(movie) episode of the creature on the wing of the plane. 

Let me be clear. 

I really don't know a George.  Well at least not for years and years.  I don't work with a George, we have no George's in our family.  I have no freakin' clue as to why my weird possessed hand was writing the name George. 

We ended up sitting with Pastor Jesse and his wife for the dinner and we were to tell things about ourselves (which is also a horrible thing to have to do for us closet shy people).  So I told the story about the George nametag.  The quickest way for me to get over feeling awkward in front of people I don't know is to tell a ridiculous story about myself (you would think that would be the opposite, wouldn't you?)

So Pastor Jesse loved calling Bob George after that.  It was one of the first times we had interacted alot with Pastor Jesse other than him welcoming us to the church every Sunday and it was quite an ice breaker.  And since the story got around quickly, many people couldn't remember what his real name was.