MURDER IN THE FIRST DEGREE

MURDER IN THE FIRST DEGREE

In some ways I think it was the most horrible sound I had ever heard in my life. It seemed like all the events that caused me to be here, flashed before my eyes in the few seconds it took for the guard to slam closed the jail door to my cell. I immediately felt the weight and consequences of my actions.  How could this be happening to me? I’m the guy who built his entire life and career around law and order.  I’m the loving father that only did what any father would do under similar circumstances. In fact, I feel like the victim not the perpetrator. The truth of the matter is that I didn’t ask for any of this.

The quite, hopelessness, and loneliness of the cell soon had me playing back the series of events that landed me here in the first place. You know, after thinking about it all; I’m sure I’d do the same thing again. Soon, I found myself just staring at the wall and letting my mind wander back to that fateful night.

The sounds and images of that horrible night are burned into my subconscious forever.  In fact, I can clearly remember every detail as if it were yesterday. The flashing lights from the squad cars seemed to pierce the air, lighting up my    silhouette against the dark moonless night. There was a light dew in the air that seemed to defuse and scatter the red and blue flashing lights into a strobe effect. I tried to remain as calm as possible, but my heart was racing and I was pouring sweat. As if in slow motion, the patrol cars rolled up one after the other. Then came the familiar sounds of tires squealing, doors slamming, and chatter on the radios.  It was a scene that I was all too familiar with.

I have to admit that I was plenty scared, as I laid down my service pistol and slowly raised my hands.  The slide on my Glock was locked back, telling me that I had unknowingly emptied the entire magazine into the now lifeless body in front of me. Over a dozen brass spent casings lay scattered at my feet. I can admit that it’s much harder being on the receiving end of a felony arrest. Even though I didn’t fight I was somehow relieved when my fellow officers wrestled me to the ground and forcefully handcuffed me. I immediately realized that it was over for me. My career, my hopes, and my life as I once knew it. Strangely, I felt justified, relieved, and at peace with what I had done. Even though I offered no resistance, they had no way of knowing my intentions and they had to protect themselves. It’s not like I didn’t know what to expect, after serving with the department for the last 20 years.

I knew right then and there that my life was about to change forever but I felt strangely justified in my actions. I think it even says in the bible somewhere  … “an eye for an eye”.  That night my hatred, my anger, my disgust for “the system”; cumulated in my uncharacteristic use of deadly force.  I had killed a man, not in self defense, not in the line of duty, but in anger and to satisfy my thirst for revenge.

If the judge and prosecutor had done their jobs in the first place I wouldn’t have had to take matters into my own hands. After I got over the initial shock of my daughter’s death, I had hoped that I could live with the decision of the justice system, but I was wrong.  I guess in retrospect I should have known. As a cop, I had witnessed too many criminals beat the rap with high priced lawyers, sighting minor technicalities.

When the jury announced their non guilty verdict, it was more than I could take. I promised myself right then and there in the courtroom that there was no way that son of a bitch was going to walk off Scott free.

In fact, when the criminal trial first started, I figured the state had a slam dunk case and the scum bag that killed my daughter would be marching down death row within a year. At the very least I felt confident that the defendant would earn himself a minimum of a few consecutive life sentences.

Even though I was mentally and physically exhausted after nearly 14 months of gut wrenching testimony and legal arguments, I felt somehow revitalized the morning that the verdict was to be read. After an excruciatingly long trial, I felt certain that justice was about to prevail. The jury returned after 5 hours of deliberation to present their decision.

The entire courtroom fell silent as the lead juror stood to address the court. “We the members of the jury find the defendant “not guilty”. The court immediately erupted into chaos. My knees buckled, and I did my best to contain myself. I just stood there staring off into space, with my jaw hanging down in disbelief. The sound of the judge banging his gavel soon restored order in the courtroom.

I looked over at the defendant and noticed that he was surprised as anyone. He looked back towards me and just gave me a knowing and smug smile as he hugged his attorney. The courtroom quickly emptied but I just stood there in disbelief. A moment later the man that murdered my daughter walked by me and raised his middle finger in defiance. Without warning or thought I lunged at him only to be repelled by the two bailiffs that accompanied him. I had to stop myself from verbalizing the thoughts that were running thru my mind, but I promised myself right then and there that I would make him pay with his life. As I walked out of the courtroom, I thought about how many family members I had seen make the same kind of threat, but I was different; I was sure to act on my impulse.

Over the next few days I wrestled with my inner self. I was consumed with hatred and the need for revenge. I even thought about waiting a few years to plan and exact my revenge. I wanted to do it in such a way that it looked accidental. I didn’t want anyone to suspect that I had anything to do with his demise. In the end, my logic was overruled by my emotion and hatred.  I continually asked myself why this sorry excuse for a human being was walking the streets while my daughter would never see another day. I was determined that I would not be a suspect but my anger was white hot. In the end my retribution was to be spontaneous, swift and deadly.

The department granted my request for a month off without pay and I began to plan my revenge. It didn’t take me long to track down the bum who killed my daughter. Just like in the courtroom he didn’t show any remorse for his actions, in fact he was out living it up like he won the lottery. I had decided to wait until I could confront him in a secluded place and then try to hide his hideous carcass after I did him in.

I have to admit that I wavered on my plan several times before I resigned myself to the fact that it had to be done and done soon, damn the consequences. I knew I was capable of doing it because I was forced to shoot a man many years ago. The experience happened when I first got into law enforcement, but that was different, that was self defense.

After a few nights of following my target, I waited outside the bar he frequented until just after one A.M.  Almost on schedule he came out stumbling and belligerent as usual. I had taken up a spot in the dark parking lot behind a large dumpster, where I had a good view of both the front door of the bar and his pick- up truck.  As he got closer to his truck I stepped out from behind the dumpster and quickly closed the distance between us. I was wearing my uniform so that I would not raise any suspicion to any possible by-standers.

As I came out of the shadows I startled the bastard and it took him a few seconds to recognize me as the father of the women he ruthlessly killed. Like most criminals, he had a distain for authority and just laughed when he looked me in the eyes. In his drunken swagger he told me to buzz off. He had been cleared by the court and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. With that he reached in his pocket to grab his keys and I instantly raised my weapon and pointed it at his center mass. With another one of his drunken laughs he held the keys up high and dared me to go ahead and shoot an unarmed man. He went on to say that he knew his rights and that I better go check a few expired parking meters instead of trying to scare him. For a second I almost re-holstered my weapon, but I remembered the real reason I was there.

It was at that point that he turned his back to me and headed for the truck door. In a drunken slur he again challenged me to just try and shoot and unarmed man in the back.  Again I hesitated because doing so would be against every moral I had and all my training. For the first time I can remember my hands actually trembled. In the space of a few seconds, the pain of seeing my daughter at the morgue, the look he gave me in the courtroom, and my disgust at the verdict the jury delivered all rushed thru my head.

My finger tightened as I took out the slack in the trigger of my gun. A thousand thoughts seemed to rush thru my mind at the same time. My career, my training, my fellow officers, my daughter laughing the last time I was with her. Then, almost without conscious thought I eased the trigger back another fraction of an inch and the Glock roared to life. Almost in slow motion I could see the flash from the muzzle, and as he turned to face me, the look on his face as the first bullet struck him in the chest. From that point on my mind only recorded a blur of activity as I walked closer to him, firing again with each step. It was only when the gun locked open, empty that I returned from the almost hypnotic state and began to survey the aftermath of the carnage.

I stood there for a few moments, in total shock with the gun dangling from my right hand, before dropping it to the pavement.  People began pouring out of the bar and I could hear them making frantic calls to the 911 operator. At that point I just sat on the hood of a car next to the pick-up truck and waited for the inevitable sound of the police racing to the scene.

My thoughts rushed back to the reality of the present, when the lights were turned down for the night in my cell.  You know, as much as I hate it in here, I still feel like I did what I had to do. Too many grieving parents and spouses that have been robbed of a loved one or child make the pledge to carry out their own justice and never have the guts to do it. We count on the courts and the “system” to render justice, but sometimes it just doesn’t work that way. I’m not advocating that each of us should take the law into their own hands but given the same circumstances, I’m sure I would have done the same thing again.

I guess in the end every man is responsible for his own actions. I can guarantee you that a traumatic experience like I went thru can change your position on crime and capital punishment. When it happens to you it’s totally different than a distant story in the newspaper or a spot on the evening news. The painful reality of unjustly losing someone you love will cause you to look at things differently; it will harden your heart.  At that point it’s no longer an academic exercise, political debate, or parlor discussion. It becomes a raw and painful reality that you have to internalize and find a way to live with.

Ultimately, the guy who stole my daughter’s life is responsible for his actions and I’m responsible for mine. Was it the right and moral thing to do?  I think so, and I was willing to pay the price…I think sometimes in life you just have to be both judge and jury, and maybe you don’t agree with me about that.  I only ask that before you pass judgment on me, you have to honestly ask yourself what you would do; if you were in my shoes…….. In my mind: “Justice has been served..CASE CLOSED”

THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING

THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING

The journey of the last month had taken it’s toll on me and the few of my remaining loyal servants. The desert is a formidable barrier that can be a thing of beauty, but it is also an endless sea of sand and suffering. The desert has no compassion and is a harsh judge of who shall live and who shall die. In fact, had word of my father’s illness not reach me, I feel certain that I would have lived in obscurity and peace for the rest of my days by the sea.

My trip back home was long, arduous, and fraught with danger.  Indeed, I consider myself lucky to even be alive. Even though I had elected to travel mostly at night to avoid the sun and scorching sands, the trip took its toll on man and beast. The sands and the elements claimed the life of my trusted advisor and mentor as well as most of my servants and animals. Relying on my limited knowledge of astronomy, I lead the small team using the stars as my only guide. I tried to maintain a positive attitude but towards the end of the journey, lost and overcome with thirst and hunger I almost gave up.  I had almost lost hope myself but persevered and pushed on. I assured the few loyal servants that were left that I knew where we were and would make it thru. Despite the fact that I had carefully rationed the remaining water and provisions, they were entirely exhausted days before we reached the fertile valleys that told me we were almost home.

I had learned a lot about myself in the last year, and a lot about what it takes to be a leader.  During my journey I had much time to think and contemplate my thoughts and actions. My heart burned with confusion, self doubt and hatred. I felt scorned and abandoned. I had been separated from all that I knew and loved.

As a result of my actions and decisions, my own father had banished me from the boarders of his kingdom. I had refused to continue my training and made it known that I would not take on the role as king. I was sent off into the unknown, with only meager provisions and a small contingent of servants. I felt betrayed and angry that my father would punish me in such a manner, but he had to show his strength. I guess in the end I never realized how much my father really loved me.

It had always been my father’s desire that I would one day assume his role and govern our people. As the eldest son, it was to be my honor and my responsibility to assume the crown. It was a task that I had continuously been laboriously prepared for since the day of my birth.

To be the heir to the throne is indeed an honor, but also a daunting responsibility. When I was younger I would sit and dream about what it would be like to be the king. My every waking moment was consumed with lessons, instruction, and preparation to one day rule the land. My father assembled a team of teachers, philosophers, and instructors to aid me in my path.

In my young eyes everyone loved and respected the king.  I was purposely secluded from the common people, and even urged to treat them with a certain amount of contempt. As I grew up, I began to see that many people only did not love and respect the king but instead feared and hated the king. They barely survived under the burden of kingdom, and in fact hated life under his rule.  My father, although benevolent at times, could be merciless and demanded absolute obedience from his subjects. He could be gracious at times, but his retributions were swift and cruel to those who resisted his commands.

Fortunately my upbringing and training had prepared me for adversity. My new home was paltry compared to the lavish palace where I was raised, but I was comfortable none the less.  I had come to terms with the fact that I would have to live out my days in this new and unfamiliar place.  Little did I know that my father had sent out soldiers and messengers far and wide to bring me the message of his grave illness. Upon hearing the news, and after a brief moment of indecision, I quickly decided that my place was at his side and informed my servants to prepare for our departure the next morning.

Despite my prayers and hasty return, I did not make it back in time to see my father return to good health. I arrived just in time to hold his hand before he passed and he managed to whisper a few last words to me. I did my best to hold back my tears yet I was taken back by the weak appearance of my father.  He was a man known for his size and strength and now he laid before me, a mere shadow of his former self. As I knelt next to him and held his hand, I notice a tiny tear in his eye, something I had never thought he was capable of.  The king told me that he never really had a doubt about me, and that I would make a great leader. With his final words, he told me that he was proud of me and that his crown was now mine.  I would assume the throne just as he and countless numbers of his fore fathers had done. He was sure that I would be a great leader, and he trusted my judgment.  He then squeezed my hand gently and with his last breath he whispered..”Long live the King”, before quietly fading away.

Although it was comforting to be back in the palace again, amongst my friends and family, I was overwhelmed with grief and indecision. It’s hard to believe that in a few brief hours, I will be asked to swear the oath that I once ran from. That night I continued the battle that I had been fighting for the last year in my mind and my soul.  Perhaps I had been trying to change the unchangeable. Maybe my fate was already written in the great book of life. Can it be that my inescapable destiny is to wear the crown of the King?

My father often told me that a leader had to be strong and make hard decisions. He always stressed strength and honor above all other attributes. A man without honor is like a rudderless ship, drifting aimlessly with the tides. That night as my father faded away, I struggled with some of the questions that man may ask himself until the end of time. For the first time in my young life I began to feel the full weight of leadership, the awesome responsibility that comes with ultimate power. My actions would help to define not only our kingdom, but myself as a man.

In the space of a few hours before dawn, I had to discern, if it is more honorable to do what is expected of you or to follow what you know to be right in your heart. Is a man’s honor meant to be self serving, to be bent and twisted to accommodate your own actions and desires?  In my opinion wealth cannot buy, nor can rank or title instill honor in a man. In the end we are defined by our sense of honor. I asked myself, what is a man worth if he hath no honor?

Courage is the outward display of strength. A man must act and do what is in his heart even if he has fear or uncertainty. We all have fear, but the man with courage  can overcome it. Weakness and cowardness were to be avoided at all times.

And what of strength? Does it take more strength to do as you are told or expected to do, or to choose the path of righteousness? Is kindness and compassion a form of strength, or can it only be found at the tip of a spear?  Does it not take more courage and discipline to do what is right and righteous? As a leader, are people more likely to follow you because they fear your strength or admire it? I asked myself that night if my people would be better served if I assumed power or to elected to share it. How will the scribes and historians judge me?  Do I make history or simply repeat it?

Shortly before dawn I called in my council and made my decision. I had chosen a path that was sure to be unpopular with the wealthy nobles. For the first time in the history of our empire, there would not be a single and undisputed ruler. Today marks the end of the monarchy, not by bloodshed, war, or deceit, as in the past;  but by my own decree. I had chosen a council of 12 men to govern, one from each village in the kingdom. I had chosen from the ranks of soldiers, fisherman, merchants, farmers, and shop keepers.  I had decided to entrust the care and well being of the kingdom to this group of wise men.

Somehow I think my father would be proud of me. Change is often slow in happening, but sometimes a difficult and necessary thing.   I have no way to look into the future, but perhaps this new form of governing will catch on and survive. I only hope that history, God, and my people will agree that I made the right decision.

 

HERO

HEROS 

   It’s my birthday today and my daughter gave me the most poignant gift. When I opened her little package and looked at the faded ribbon, I was flooded with emotion.  In fact, I’d have to say I’m probably the luckiest man in the world.  

   They say God works in strange ways, and I guess that is true.  I can only say that I’m thankful to him, and a strange twist of fate; for most of my happiness today.  I guess the best thing to do would be to start at the beginning.

   John Connor was my friend, so it just seems right that I was there that day with him.  Heck, we served two tours together in Iraq. We were both just young kids all fired up from our Marine basic training. We were full of energy and bravado. To tell you the truth, we both thought we were invincible when we first got there.

   John was very much a quiet man, and for the most part a loner. He was an only child and had lost both parents in a horrible car crash.  In the end, I think he joined the service as much for the camaraderie as to serve his country.

       If there was any misconception about the duty we were about to serve, it became clear as soon as we arrived. The stark reality of the people, the country, and the war quickly changed our view point. We soon found out that the heat was oppressive and the terrain unforgiving. Things began happening rather quickly. We hadn’t been there for two days and were on our way to our assigned base when our Humvee was nearly destroyed by a roadside bomb.

  The intensity of the blast was like nothing I had ever witnessed before. The violent shock wave and scrap metal from the explosion nearly ripped our vehicle in half. Our driver and front seater were killed instantly. The force of the blast had thrown me clear of the now smoldering vehicle where I laid in a painful heap some 15 feet away.

  That day we were the lead truck in a small convoy and the minute the bomb went off, our disabled vehicle blocked the narrow road.  Within seconds an unseen enemy opened fire on the rest of our small group. I could see rounds kicking up dust only inches from my now broken body and buzzing by my ears.

   I thought I was a goner for sure lying there hurt and in a daze, fully exposed to the incoming fire.  Suddenly I felt myself being drug by my vest back across the road and behind the cover of our now disabled vehicle. John had risked his life in the middle of a vicious firefight and exposed himself to direct enemy fire to drag me to safety.

  Over the next 2 years I witnessed countless acts of bravery and compassion from the likes of John Conner. He was more than just a good soldier, John was my friend and a true hero.

  When we finished our tour and returned to the states we both promised to keep in touch, as so many returning servicemen often do. As time went by we both went on with our civilian lives and jobs and kept in touch at times by e-mail.

  I had been meaning to get hold of John and possibly get together, when I got an e-mail from the sergeant who had recruited both of us. The e-mail was brief. It seems John had been in an accident and had passed away. The short note included the date and time for his funeral. It seemed hard to believe that he could survive in a war zone, but be killed soon after returning to the safety of the United States.

  Determined to be there for my friend, I drove all night and made it to the funeral home just as the viewing was winding down. I was surprised to see that there were only a handful of people present to say their farewells to this giant of a man. I was greeted by our recruiter and two fellow Marines along with a young women and her 5 year old daughter.

   I sat patiently in the front row as the young women and her daughter looked down on John. Both the little girl and her mom were softly crying. I noticed the little girl’s right arm was heavily bandaged.  I waited until they said their farewells and they made their way to the back of the room.

   I quietly walked up to the coffin and looked down on my old friend. He laid there decked out in his dress uniform with ribbons and medals on his chest. At barely 30 years of age, he still looked robust and bigger than life. I bent over and put my hand on his shoulder and whispered  “John… We never forget our own…you are a true hero”….

   With that I removed one of the medals from his chest and clutched it in the palm of my hand. You see, it was the medal he received when he bravely saved my life under the worst of circumstances. There is no doubt that I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for his unselfish actions.

  With that the funeral director closed the coffin. The two marines from the color guard saluted and folded up the large American flag that had draped the coffin with great precision and ceremony. They then saluted me and handed me the now neatly folded flag. 

     I made my way to the back of the room to offer my condolences to the young women. “Hello, my name is Jason and I was a friend of Johns. We had served together when I was in the Marines.  I considered him a fine man and a real life hero.  Are you John’s girlfriend? ”

   She was obviously overcome with emotion and tears. She told me that although he lived in her building, she had just met John a few days ago. She was unaware of his distinguished military service, but she told me that he was a hero to her none the less.  She went on to explain in great detail, that while she was at work there was a terrible fire in their apartment building.  She had entrusted her young daughter to the care of a neighbor.

   That afternoon, she got off the bus as usual and began the short walk home.  As she walked back towards the apartment building her paced quickened. She realized that something was decidedly wrong.  Upon her return, she realized that her entire building was engulfed in smoke.

   Many of the neighbors were gathered on the lawn outside, some with obvious signs of smoke inhalation and burns. The scene was almost surreal as everything seemed to happen in slow motion. There were babies crying, neighbors moaning in pain, people praying, and families hugging each other out on the lawn.

      Everyone looked back at the building in disbelief and wondered if there was anyone else left trapped inside. Moments later John emerged from the smoking building choking and with serious burns on his lower extremities. In a frantic state of mind she tried to squeeze by him in an attempt to enter the building, even as a wall of intense heat pushed her back.  Despite being in a weakened state he managed to hold her back from the punishing wave of heat and flames that were now licking the entrance to the building. 

   She recalls screaming hysterically and telling John that she believed her daughter was still inside. Without a second of hesitation John pushed her back towards the lawn. He grabbed a blanket that was strewn on the sidewalk, and threw it over his head and shoulders. He looked me in the eyes as if to say don’t worry, and resolutely turned back towards the flames. Putting his head down he quickly closed the distance and ran back into the blazing building.  I’m still not sure how any man could will himself and his body, back into that type of punishment.

  Moments passed by that seemed like an eternity. The sound of sirens in the distance announced the arrival of the fire department. On lookers were shocked and amazed, they could feel the tremendous heat from the relative safety of the lawn.  It was incomprehensible that anyone could bring themselves to reenter the blistering inferno.  Everything seemed to move in slow motion as everyone outside collectively held their breath, just staring at the virtual oven that was once our front door.

   Just as the first fire truck pulled up a charred and blackened figure came crashing thru the door and charging down the front steps. John was almost unrecognizable with the blanket around his head and shoulders and his clothes melted to his body.  He collapsed on the sidewalk, as the firemen covered his smoldering body with a shower of water.  With his last once of strength he gently set down the wet bed spread on the sidewalk. My heart nearly sank as I realized he could not save my daughter, until I noticed a small arm, blistered and bleeding from the heat, protruding from under the blanket.

   The firemen attended to him and helped me unwrap that blanket. My heart leapt with joy as I found my daughter safe and largely unharmed inside. I held her in my arms while sobbing over the now lifeless body of this quiet and brave man that I barely knew.

  You see..John Conner saved my daughter’s life that day, at the cost of his own. He suffered severe burns over 80% of his body. Yes John was by all counts a hero. 

   I’ve been thru a lot a prided myself on keeping my emotions in check however I couldn’t help hugging them both and with tears in all of our eyes. I handed the women the folded American flag from the coffin. I then knelt down in front of the little girl and held both of her hands. She looked up at me thru her tears and melted my heart with the sweetest little smile. I told her to be brave and never forget him as I pressed John’s medal into her little hand.

  That was 3 years ago today, and I’ve been happily married to Laura for the last 2 years.

 John. Thank you for all that you were.  You both saved my life and helped bring me life’s greatest joys. There is no greater sacrifice that a man can make then to give his life for that of a friend.  John had more than lived up to the Marines code…..Semper Fi, my friend.

THE GEM

                                                            THE GEM

  Ever since I can remember my family has been poor. Much like my father and his father before him, I am a humble field worker. This life is the only life that I have ever known, yet I know there could be more.  Each day I would awake early and be hard at work long before the sun would rise. I would toil in the field all day until nightfall, before returning to my meager home. I would walk thru our small village every night with my head down and without ever a smile on my exhausted face.

  This was my life for many years and I had accepted my fate. In my country, very few ever break out of this vicious cycle of work and want.  Evidently God had something else in store for me. One day a few years ago while working the field, something shiny caught my eye in the dirt. At first I ignored it, but my curiosity drove me examine it further.

   This was the same spot that hundreds of others had just walked by. Surely if it was anything of great worth, one of the others would have claimed it as their own.  My heart began to quicken as I looked around to see if anyone else was watching.  Surely if this was something of great value, someone else would have scooped it up before me.

  I bent down and picked the object up and quickly put it in my pocket, for fear that someone else would notice. For the rest of the day I toiled in the scorching sun, but this day, I was full of energy and anticipation. That night I brought my new find home and gently brushed the dirt off and rinsed the object in water. Much to my surprise, the more I cleaned it up the brighter it seemed. I sat there by my fireplace and behold there was a gem of unbelievable quality and brilliance.

  My mind began to wander and heart began to soar. I had found a gem of great worth and value. That night I sat up almost all night, dreaming about how my new find could change my entire life. Somehow this gem I had found had transformed me, energized me, and opened up the world for me.

  Over the next few days I told some of my closest friends about my great discovery. They all listened with good intentions and then told me that my gem was probably just a common rock that happened to glitter. They insisted that although it was shiny, my gem was common and not of any value. Some urged me to sell or toss aside my gem and go back to the field to possibly find a larger or more valuable one.  I remained steadfast in my belief that I had made the greatest find of my life.

  I would not be discouraged or dissuaded because I knew I my heart that I had made a life changing discovery.  In fact, almost from that moment forward my luck seemed to change and my life began to improve. I carried the gem everywhere with me. I now walked with my head up and a smile on my face.  Others may not have seen the glow, or perceived the worth, but I recognized it immediately.

  I now faced the world with a new sense of excitement, wonder, and optimism. I quit my job in the field and began a journey across the country. I proudly spoke of my new gem and protected it with my life. My eyes were now open to many new possibilities and everything seemed new and fresh.

  Every aspect of my life seemed to improve as my new happiness and self confidence were evident to all who met me. In reality I did not have any more money or possessions than I had before my great find, but I now carried myself like a wealthy man. My gem had transformed my entire life into something worthwhile and wonderful.

  Over the following months, many tried to convince me that my new sense of hope and happiness was all in my head. That gem you hold so tight has no power to make your life any better; it’s just a common rock.  It seems you can always find a nay- sayer.

  After months of urging by family and well meaning friends I made the long trip to a town by the coast. I sought out a man that was renowned to be an expert in Gems. He welcomed me, as I proudly displayed my prize. I could hardly overcome my sense of pride and joy as I presented him with my treasure.  After a brief look and a test with an unfamiliar instrument he offered his opinion that it was not real and of little value.

  I knew my gem was real and of great value, but after hearing the opposite from the expert, I began to have my doubts.  I noticed that my gem did not seem to shine as brightly. Over the next few days the gleam I once knew seemed to gradually diminish, until finally it had no shine at all.

  My happiness was soon gone and I returned to work in the field. All of my friends were happy to have me back, but I was heartbroken and in despair. If only I had trusted my instincts, and believed with all my heart.

  My experience with the gem was life changing and I learned some important things.

  You don’t have to search far and wide to find happiness, just open your eyes to the gem that might be right in front of you.

   I discovered that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

    I also came to realize that if you make a once in a life time discovery, you cannot afford to pass it by or let it go.

   And at the end of the day, whatever form the “Gem” in your life takes..When you obtain something that is of great value to you, cherish it, believe in it, and …don’t let anyone else talk you out of it.

THE WISE MAN

THE WISE MAN

Last year I reached a turning point in my life. I felt as though I was at a cross roads, and that I had plateaud in both my personal life and my career. At first I tried to just shake off the feeling, but it only intensified as the weeks and months went by.

What started out as an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach had now turned into a gnawing and gut wrenching pain that was slowly consuming me. I had lost my motivation and became mired in self pity and depression.  My performance at work began to deteriorate and even my relationship with my girlfriend was in jeopardy.

I tried reading self help books and even had a few visits to the shrink’s office, all to no avail. It was evident that I had lost my confidence and self worth and was spiraling down even further with each passing day.

In my despair I turned to drinking and tried to drown my problems in alcohol. It wasn’t long before my circle of friends began to narrow, and finally even my best friend Larry was to abandon me. Larry grabbed the drink from my hand and told me to get a hold of myself. He said that I needed to look for answers from a higher power or I would soon be completely destitute and alone.

For some reason Larry’s words stuck in my mind and that night I made a decision to take action. I would act on Larry’s advise and search for answers from a higher power.

The next day I woke up hung over and with a splitting head ache but Larry’s words echoed in my head. I fired up my laptop and spent the morning doing research. I googled higher power, higher source, wise man, prophet, etc.  By the end of the day I had found my answer and had purchased a round trip ticket to India.

I gathered my remaining strength and dwindling financial resources and made the long trip to a distant land. For the first time in months I felt a slight surge of energy, of hope, flow thru my body. Surely I would find the answers that I had been seeking.

When I arrived in India, I immediately hired a guide and made a commitment to climb the mountain in the morning. I agreed to his lofty fee and gave him a 50% down payment, with a promise to pay the other 50% if he got made safely to the summit of the world’s highest mountain. The trip was long and arduous with many perils, but I dug down deep into my reserves and pushed myself forward. For three days and three nights we climbed that mountain. I endured cold, rain, and minor injuries, but I was determined to reach the summit or die trying.

Finally as we neared the top and approached the final summit, my guide signaled that I would have to climb the remaining hundred yards or so, on my own. I argued with him for a few moments until I realized that this was in fact my own personal journey. I handed him the other 50% of his fee for getting me here safely and he just snickered and walked away.  My body was trembling from exhaustion and fear.  Ice had gathered on my gloves and in my beard,  but somehow I dug down deep and pushed myself forward, ever so slowly.

Step by step, inch by inch I willed myself forward, until the summit was in sight. The wind was howling and driving the snow and small pieces of into my face. Visibility was very limited but I walked toward the outline of a cave entrance that was literally carved out of the rock. The entrance was illuminated by a small fire that guided me.

As I approached I was greeted by a small man that sat cross legged on a round carpet,  close to the fire. The smell of incense filled my nostrils and the sound of bamboo wood chimes played like soft music in the background. At first he said nothing, but motioned for me to sit next to him and share the warmth of the fire. The ice slowly melted from my gloves and jacket. We both sat there speechless for what seemed like an eternity until the little man finally spoke.

“Why have you made this long journey..what do you seek ?”. I gathered my thoughts and expressed to him my problems and feelings of worthlessness. He listened carefully and without interruption until I was finished before he finally spoke.

“My son…you have made a long journey and sacrificed much….however I am a man of few words, so I only have four brief suggestions for you.

1>  Tell Larry I appreciate all the references he sends me, but that I’m semi-retiring next month and moving to sunny Florida. I landed a cush job as the F&I guy at a “Buy Here Pay Here”  car lot.  After 30 years, I’ve had enough of this cold miserable,  mountain top weather.

2>  Larry needs to make clear that he means God, and not me when he tells troubled people to go to a higher source. Heck, I barely finished high school. Why do you think I’m living in this cheap rent district.

3>  Sometimes we all prefer to seek answers to our life’s problems, so far away, when really the answers are right there in our own hearts and minds.

4>  Last but not least, My son: You came up the mountain from the wrong side. Just head down this trail a quarter mile behind us and catch the #12 bus right back into Nepal.

OUT SOURCING

OUT   SOURCING

My eyes are all bloodshot, and I’m irritable and exhausted this morning. I don’t think I got a total of one hours sleep last night. My Computer crashed around 9 pm, right in the middle of an important project that was due at work this morning.

Being the eternal optimist that I am, I originally felt that it was a minor setback soon to be rectified by a quick call to the manufactures 24 hour help line. In my wisdom, I shelled out another $189.95 hard earned bucks  for two years of Platinum product support.

I took a short breather and poured myself a hot cup of coffee, confident that after a short phone call, I would be back up and running in ten or fifteen minutes..tops. It was then that I hit obstacle #1. My plan was to go to the computer manufacture’s web site and get the support number or one of those fancy..on line help chat deals. The problem with that line of thinking became quickly apparent as I realized that I had also lost internet access as well as the ability to look up my computers serial and service tag number, that I cleverly stored in an excel spreadsheet in the “My documents” file on my now disabled and defunct computer.

Ok…I consider myself a problem solver so I went out into the garage and after fighting my way thru a maze of boxes, garden equipment, and my rusty and unused weight set I finally dug up the original box that the computer was shipped in along with the original paperwork and documentation. After a few minutes of frenzied searching I finally found the help line number and a copy of my invoice showing that I purchased the optional extended product support.

As I wiped the sweat and garage dust from my face, I once again began to smile, feeling I had coolly and logically solved the support problem and would be soon on my way to finishing my work project. (with time left over to watch the sport’s center daily rap-up).

Sitting back at my desk I patiently called the 1-800 number and was ready to experience some of the manufactures renowned customer service. I was slightly surprised to be greeted by a computer generated recorded message. “ You have reached the 24 hour Platinum Service line. Sorry, but we are closed right now. ( Wow makes me wonder what 24 hours means)…You can call back between the hours of 8 and 5 pacific time to talk to one of our technicians or press “One” for our automated help menu.”

I gently pressed the “One” key and after a few audible beeps I found myself connected to yet another recording. If you know your parties 16 digit extension dial it now..followed by the pound key. ( I can hardly remember my social security number never mind your technicians extension number).  “ If you are calling to purchase a new computer press “1” (Keep this option in mind, in the event you get disgusted with our ability to help fix your computer over the phone), if you are calling to leave a positive comment about our award winning Platinum service press “ 2”.  If you would like to upgrade your Platinum service to our new “Titanium” service for another $189.95 press “3”. ( I think I would have the local computer geek come directly to my house before I would spend almost $400 on phone support) If you would like to take part in a short survey after your call press “4”. And then finally: If you are having trouble with your computer press “5”

“All of our U.S. based and English speaking technicians are home relaxing right now. If you would like to be connected to our difficult to understand and hard of hearing Afghanistan service techs on a crackly phone connection via Tibet Bell and Telegraph, press “6” now.

Wow…it kind of made me feel good I bought the expensive Platinum service contract instead of the Silver or Gold deal, I probably would have had to be connected to a part time goat herder with a laptop and cell phone in Bangladesh.

In any case after 3 hours on the phone I finally got my computer back up and running again. The experience made me reflect on just how many companies are outsourcing their work these days. Why can’t we do this stuff in the good old U.S. of A, and create a few extra jobs for our own folks.  It seems that anything that can be done “off-shore” is being transferred to a place where labor is cheaper and plentiful. Cheap phone lines and the use of the internet have taken down previous barriers of distance and culture.

Maybe I’m just too old fashioned and need to get with the times. I consider myself a progressive thinker and I’m always looking for a way to make an extra buck, so I started thinking about what else I could personally outsource to make my life easier and to make or save money.

Since it’s already after midnight I took a couple of minutes to write down a few out sourcing ideas, kind of a mini business plan. A few universal services, that people might pay for, with outsourcing potential.

Rent A Kid: Let’s face it, your kids are busy and they have their own lives to worry about. Sometime our kid’s just don’t have the time to call you every day or even send you a birthday or holiday card.  For only pennies a day you can call or be called 24 hours a day by your own surrogate kid in the Filipines . These surrogates are highly trained and will even answer to the name of your real kid.

Personal Assistant: Ok so maybe you don’t have your own secretary, concierge, or personal assistant at work or at home. Now, thru the magic of your cell phone or internet connection you can rely on one of our skilled P.A.’s. (European trained) You’ll be surprised at how efficient they will be and you can even dial in and assign work and tasks to impress your friends and business associates.

Q and A Hotline: How many times a day do you need the answer to a simple question, or need to have something looked up. Our Q&A associates will happily do the research and have you an answer in minutes. How many grams in a pound, what’s the capital of Turkistan, what is the batting average of your favorite baseball player.

Legal Hotline:   Your dog just bit the kid next door, what do you do or say? You just bumped your shopping cart into a big black SUV in the grocery store parking lot and the driver jumps out holding his neck and threatening to sue. Just call 1-800- lawyer now. ( Just keep in mind that our phone lawyers are particularly adept at billing by the second..so talk fast).. “Disclaimer”: Caution laws may be different in Beijing or one of our other call centers around the world, than in the United States.( also licensing requirements for Lawyers. Medicine Men, and Rain Dancers vary from country to country ) .so use caution before canning your neighbors kid for aggravating your otherwise peaceful dog.

Dial A Meal:  Lets face it..we all struggle with that daily question: What’s for dinner?.Break away from your boring “Cheese and Mac Mondays.  With one call to our convenient 800 number we connect you to our International Cuisine Dining Department. Our automated dialing system will connect you with renowned chefs across the world. They will make menu suggestions, furnish cooking and prep instructions, and even e-mail you an ingredient list.  Our French chefs will help with desserts, our Italian chefs will offer up mouth watering pasta dishes. For the more adventurous we also have exotic gourmets who will guide you thru making chocolate covered ants and birds nest soups.

Anyway, I’m heading off to bed after turning a computer problem into a business plan. I have an early day tomorrow and I’m expecting a phone call in a few hours from my outsourced “wake up call service”.  Good night..Sleep tight..

YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY

YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY

(And it’s a short drive)

Overall I think I’m a very kind, patient, and understanding person. It’s just something about driving in traffic these days that gets me in a bad mood.  I’m not alone; my therapist has told me that she is seeing a lot more patients (I prefer the term clients) lately with the same problem.

In my mind, driving represents an entirely unique set of social interactions, not the least of which being that we find ourselves trusting our very life’s to the skill and temperament of perfect strangers. I think the situation is further complicated by the fact that I live in Florida and like a giant magnet, we tend to attract all the worst drivers from the lower 48 states (not to mention Canada). At times I feel like we have a giant sign posted at the Florida border (like Ellis Island) that says: “ Give me your tired, your old, your poor, and most importantly your lousy and totally inept drivers…”. Sometimes I wish our state was separated by water (or at least a giant toll booth) so that every want-abe driver in the country couldn’t just randomly wander in with their old Buicks and barely passable driving skills.

My anger management counselor says that I need to be more accepting of people’s fault’s, they can’t all be idiots he argues (what does he know..he drives a bike to work every day). The truth is, I’m sure most of the people on the road are nice and sensible folks. But I think they are somehow transformed the minute they turn their key in the ignition. As their cars roar to life, I’m convinced that they instantly shed excess brain cells and shave at least 50 points off their collective I.Q scores. (and slip into one of their multiple personality disorders).

I’m told that I’m supposed to refer to these “less talented” individuals as “navigationally and spatially challenged drivers”. But the unvarnished truth is, they are “idiots in automobiles”. They are the same people that will walk into you on the sidewalk, and now they have 300 horsepower behind them.( what’s wrong with this picture) I’m taken back by the fact that the state makes you go to school for 2 years just to cut hair, but with $50 and an eye test, anyone (that can fog a mirror) can get a driver’s license. You need a background check to get a gun permit, but its o.k. to drive a 6,000 pound potentially lethal hunk of metal at high speeds if you can prove you are not totally comatose. (and can afford insurance)

Part of the problem is that everyone that owns a car.. “thinks” he or she is a good driver. They head out on the road every day completely clueless to the fact that they represent a clear and present danger to themselves and the general public at large. Like the little old lady I passed this morning in her sleek BMW creeping along with her 4 ways on in the fast lane and wearing her leather driving gloves with the fingers cut out.

Every since my court case, I really try to be tolerant of others that share the roadways; however it normally only takes a few minutes before someone really tries my patience. In accordance with my parole, I now fight the urge to just roll down the window and yell at people. I do however employ a wide array of non-verbal signals of my displeasure- including: Pounding the steering wheel (using the one and two hand variants), palm slapping my own forehead, using the ubiquitous “2 palms up shrug” (as in what the hell are you doing), silently mouthing the words  *.$%#@!, (with much exaggerated facial expressions), the one and two hand covering of my eyes, the slow forehead to chin face wipe, pulling out large chunks of my own hair( as if causing myself personal pain and hair loss would somehow improve their driving skills), banging my head on the steering wheel, all followed by the pitiful left to right head shaking as I pass the offender to display my displeasure. I’m sure anyone passing by me, is certain that  I am having a seizure.

I’ve matured to the point where I realize it’s statistically useless to race by these “Motorized Morons. ( To be honest, I think my new “nervous medicine” helps) I’ve discovered (much to my chagrin) that there is an immutable law of nature that insures I will immediately get behind or next to a new (and possibly more dangerous) set of M/M’s. The supply of these impaired drivers is seemingly inexhaustible. I used to lovingly shoot them the bird as I passed by, only to find that I would inevitably get boxed in a few miles up the road by a few of their brethren. (it’s apparently a very tight knit group..sometimes I wonder if they all plot against me)

I also have a problem with those misguided auto owners that I can only call “ “Distracted Drivers”. The D/D might even be an acceptable driver in real life, however he/she has chosen this special automotive moment to engage in an activity that serves to distract them from the task at hand.(i.e.- piloting a 3 ton hunk of iron traveling at 70 mph). Their distracting activities may include (but not be limited to): applying makeup, brushing hair,  playing with pets, trimming nails, eating a Big Mack, reaching back to slap the unruly kids in the back seat, chair dancing, searching under their floor mats for some dropped object, or even reading a book (now there is a true multi-tasker for you).  The D/D’s are easy to spot because they are still sitting at a traffic light long after the light turns green or can be seen drifting back and forth across all three lanes of traffic.

Overall, I think there are just too many people on the road. It seems to me that every living and breathing American owns at least one car, and that makes the roads just plain over crowded. I’m not sure what the answer is but maybe we have to assign driving privilege days, like Monday, Wednesday, Friday for one group and Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday for another. (of course I would retain 24/7 privileges). I don’t think I’m asking for too much. I just need to get to work or where ever else I’m heading in relative safety and without undue delays. I already have the words “Get Out Of My Way” in bold graphics and reverse print on the front of my car. Maybe I can order a snow plow attachment or a set of flashing lights for the top of my car. I’d like to see driving return to the fun and relaxing pastime it once was. The call of the open road would once again beckon and I would look forward to taking a calm and peaceful drive again.

P.I.B.

IF YOU COULD READ MY MIND

IF YOU  COULD READ MY MIND??

I about dropped my scotch and water when I noticed a recent article on the internet this morning. It seems a group of scientists from the C.B.I. (Cognitive Behavioral Institute) in California, have perfected what is in essence a mind reading machine.

After 10 years of research and testing, the institute has perfected the first Thought Conveyance Device. By reading and measuring the subtle electrical, thermal, and chemical changes in the brain, the device can read and/or transfer a person’s actual thoughts.

Frankly I’m appalled that science has chosen to push the limits of what I consider morally reprehensible. I Mean, I’m not really sure if I’m ready to let other people into my noodle. You see, up till now that’s the one place I’ve kind’a  reserved for myself (granted there has been no long waiting line to gain access). A self imposed “no fly zone” if you will. Just to make sure I was looking at the whole thing without prejudice I asked my kids about it, and they think I’m just being old fashioned.

The article said they are looking for volunteers to help “Beta” test the new devise. To be honest, the extra fifty bucks would really come in handy right now, but I’m just not sure. It’s not that I’m not a forward or progressive thinker or anything, but I’m just not comfortable with someone traipsing around in the inner recesses of mind. I just don’t see myself giving someone else the mental pass key to my gray matter. (or at least not on the first date).

To me it would be like letting someone into your house without any notice. The place might be a mess. I not sure what the metal equivalent of an un-made bed is, but you get the idea. Maybe I would consent if I could let them into just one lobe of my brain, or protect myself with some type of mental condom. I mean, who knows what kind of self incriminating stuff they might find up there.(Not to mention, I don’t know where else that machine has been..I don’t want to catch some type of mental communicable disease.)

Of course, to be fair, I could also see a possible benefit to mankind. For instance maybe that sucker works both ways and I could just stop by for a little mental tune up. I’m thinking they could perhaps hit a switch and maybe insert some knowledge into my brain. I wouldn’t be averse to getting a little tune up and maybe downloading and catching up on a few college courses, learn French, or even have them speed read War and Peace direct into my cerebral cortex. (of course the whole “is my glass half full or half empty argument would apply)

In the truly clinical sense of the word..I’d really like to help these guys out, but to be honest I’d also worry that maybe they could throw that gizmo in reverse and suck some brain power back out of me.  I feel I’m as generous as the next guy, and I’d really like to advance the cause of science and noble things of that sort, but I really don’t have any brain cells or spare I.Q. that I can spare right now.

They say the human mind is organized like a file cabinet, but mine may in fact be set up more like a junk drawer’ or messy desk top. All the stuff is in there, but it’s kind’a heaped together, and only I can find it (for the most part)

I think I’m a pretty bright guy (o.k…maybe I didn’t ace the S.A.T. tests back in high school, or that stupid I.Q. test)..As a side note..I figure I might as well own up to it now, because those darn mind pirates would find out anyway. That being said.. I’m also equally sure they would find a myriad of interesting facts, figures, and very profound thoughts.(at least I’d like to think so). If the truth be known they also might encounter a vast wasteland of discarded ideas, half baked plans, random and senseless thoughts, as well as indiscriminate musings. They might also find Italian receipts, illusions of grandeur, cerebral post-it notes, mental images of myself in that tight fitting superman outfit, the entire and unabridged dialogue of every Star Trek and Gilligan’s Island episode (Damm that Ginger was hot), not to mention all those dream sequences with Pamela Anderson. (sorry I leaked this Pam..At least I didn’t sell them to the National Inquirer).

At the end of the day, I guess I can get by without their $50 bucks , because they are still paying a little more for a pint of blood and I’m getting by. I think in the grand scheme of things our minds should remain our own sole domain. Some things are just not made to be shared.

THIS IS OUR QUEST

THIS IS OUR QUEST

Deep in the recesses of our minds, we are all driven towards a single quest

A small primal flame that burns brightly deep within our hearts. Its message is etched indelibly into each of our minds.

It’s a driving force that is at the very essence of our being.

This genetic blueprint governs our actions and helps define who we are.

You can hear its call in an infant’s cry; you can see it in an old man’s face

There will be no worth, no rest, no true happiness, until we each fill this most basic need.

We may at times try to deny or repress it, but it burns too brightly

“To love and to be loved”..Such a pure and noble pursuit

It is at the very core of what makes us human. This simple yet powerful mantra has played unchanged, in the human physic since the beginning of time.

Perhaps it’s a seed that God wisely planted inextricably within the human DNA.

It beats deep within the heart of the most righteous and the most wretched of us.

I could only pity the poor soul that is not somehow driven by this mission.

It’s the human bond that transcends borders, language, and gender

The same need beats in each of our hearts and secretly ties all of us together

“To love and to be loved” …Everyone is searching, quietly searching

This is our quest.

WHAT IS A FRIEND?

WHAT IS A FRIEND?

They say a man is to be counted lucky, if he has but a few true friends in life. Oh, we will know a great many by acquaintance for sure, and perhaps many by name; but true friends?

A true friendship is a rare thing that is to be nurtured and cherished. It is real and palatable, it has true worth. In a time of need, you will never have to look far to find your real friends. They will be there for you; they will stand with you thru thick and thin.

A friend gives, in a time of need, and is the first one to applaud your many successes. Here is a person you feel comfortable with, you can be yourself around. There is no need for pretence. You can let your guard down and just enjoy their company. They know your strengths and weaknesses, but appreciate you for what you are.

In the end, I think a man can be judged by the quality of his friends, not the quantity. If you have chosen wisely your alliance will withstand the test of time. You will be blessed with the knowledge that your friends have always been there for you, and conversely…you for them.

Your life will be rewarded and enriched, and when your days are near the end…you’ll know you chose wisely, and will be proud that they once called you “friend”