"Punxsutawney Phil...

has nothing on me." Seems I, like this precocious beaver, had grandiose aspirations of coming out of hibernation to embrace a new season of promise only to see his shadow and retreat reluctantly back into the comfort of his burrow for a few additional weeks of solitude. So has it been with me. My desire to pick up once again with regular entries to this blog that was my practice prior to my surgery has been reluctantly curtailed during the past several weeks due to my body's continuing need to stay focused on regaining the strength I need to again burst forth to embrace a new a season of promise and opportunity. I think I am out of my personal burrow this time to stay.

I am still experiencing some lingering discomfort on the left hand side of my chest, in my neck and along the inner portion of my upper left arm, but all is bearable and "to be expected" according to my surgeon. A couple of Advils a couple of times a day seems to address those physical issues. I still find that I tire easily (also "to be expected"), which finds me giving in to the urge to take importune naps throughout the day. Haven't taking these many afternoon siestas since I was in kindergarten! Not un-welcomed believe me, but it sure puts a hole in one's day.

My mental acuity continues to steadily improve. I am thinking more clearly, but there remains still a noticeable lag between the brain and the finger tips. My inner dictionary and thesaurus have suffered little from non-use, but knowing the words and remembering how to spell them are still divided by a rather annoying chasm. Can I get an "Amen" for Spell Check? Practice makes perfect, so the more I continue to engage the old cranium to perform mental gymnastics the quicker I will be back to putting together cogent thoughts verbally and on paper. There's nothing more frustrating than to be engaged in a conversation and to suddenly go blank trying to think of the next series of thoughts that were so crystal clear just a moment ago. Gee...I hope that is related to my surgery recovery and is not to be attributed to my just getting on in years. Oh well...

Hopefully I will continue to find the daily renewal of physical and mental strength to again engage more frequently in this exercise of communicating my random thoughts on random subjects if for no one elses benefit but my own. In the mean time I think I am over due for another afternoon rendezvous with the living room couch. Later...but hopefully not too much later.

"Well, Good Morning Fay..."

Looks like the Tampa Bay region of Florida has again missed the brunt of yet another seasonal storm, this time tropical depression Fay, she having come ashore this morning just south of Naples, about two and a half hours south of St. Petersburg as the seagull flies. Judi and I have just returned from my recommended morning constitutional, wherein I am suppose to walk briskly for 20 minutes, three times a day. Though it best to try and get in our morning session before the outer bands of Ms. Fay sweep as predicted westward and we are socked in with rain squalls for the balance of the afternoon. Not to worry...except for the occasional tornado we should weather this storm just fine.

It is at times difficult for me to comprehend that a little over two weeks ago I was flat on my back recovering from open heart surgery, believing I was on death's doorstep and hurting bad enough to be looking for the key. Today I am sitting up right and taking occasional nourishment! Actually, I'm progressing most remarkably and must temper my desire to become increasingly active with the knowledge that my spirits may dictate otherwise, but my body is far from ready to enter the next 100 meter heat in the Olympics. My constant reminder of days past is the continuing discomfort in my chest, especially around the incision. The sternum has a number of weeks left to heal completely, which I am reminded of when I absentmindedly again make a sudden involuntary move that sends spikes of pain to my conscience, which in turn screams, "Are you crazy!?! Don't do that again!!"

I also continue to struggle with my mental acumen. Had I mentioned that before? I've forgotten... Seriously...I am far less then my usual witting self, which is probably a blessing to those who would otherwise classify my self-proclaimed "quick wit" as being a profound smart ass. Enjoy it while you can my detractors, now with more oxygenated blood pumping through my heart and into my brain, I'll be even sharper than before. In the mean time...what were we just talking about?

Enough for now... Somewhere in yon room awaits a couch with an indention that perfectly fits my soon to be reclining body. Here's hoping that Fay expends her energy soon and the bright tropical blue skys of sunny central Flordia again hold sway.

"Emerging From The Fog..."

I have been eager to again resume a regular schedule of posts to this blog, but that intention has not been sufficient enough to give feet to my desire. I feel as though I am wadding through waist deep muck, so noticeably slow are my mental faculties. Just comprising these few sentences taxes me beyond description. The words seem clear enough in my mind, but their translation to visual form come stumbling from my fingers as I attempt give them birth. They made so much sense when I first thought them. What happened between the synapse? I am not familiar with this current mental state. It requires me to expend too much labor to given voice to even the simplest idea. I am in a mental fog and everything looks the same.

Trust me when I tell you that I will be thrilled when I again have difficulty deciding which of several phrases best conveys my thought, rather than in my current mental state when I sift through word after word as though they were brand new to me only to be lost in the moments of uncertainty and indecision. If this is an example of how the mind of Alzheimer's patients function then God bless 'em. To be uncertain about such trivial things as how to engage in social interaction must be so bewildering. I feel that way at the moment...kind of just stumbling along and letting life pull me in whatever direction the path of least resistance dictates. I miss being alert and on top of my game.

I have been assured that these feelings of mental fatigue are to be attributed to the massive amount of anesthetics that were administered to me during my six hours of surgery. That in time the effects will dissipate. Good thing the doctors won't let me behind the wheel of a motor vehicle for another four weeks. I can't even drive a stationary keyboard. Y'all count your blessings that I am sequestered away under the ever vigilant watch care of my lovely wife. Later...

"If Patience Is A Virtue...

Then I'm in need of a transfusion!" I'm back, but I can't say none the worse for wear. If what I have experienced over the past week is anything akin to being run over repeatedly by a herd of stampeding elephants then count me out as wishing to sign up for the next scheduled safari. What was initially to be a single by-pass and a cursory inspection of the rest of the plumbing, turned out to be a triple. Does a single by-pass inflict any less pain than a triple? Couldn't prove it by me one way or the other. Sort of like asking does it hurt any less than to stub your toe against the night stand as opposed to dropping one of Tom Clancy's novels on your toe? One is still writhing in pain regardless of the source.

Here's the bottom line friends...I've got the worse of this ordeal behind me. Now all I need do is be patient and let the full healing that must occur take effect. That is going to be difficult for me because being idle in not in my genetic make-up. So for all of you who lifted up prayers on my behalf, thank you so very much. They sustained me during the darkest hours and they sustain me still. I shall count on them until I am back to full and glorious health once again. Keep my beloved Judi in your thoughts also, as I may, for the most part, make a pretty good husband, but I am a lousy patient. Looking forward to the day soon to when she and I can again take long walks at sunset along the beach...and the hair has grown back in on my chest!! Now there's a visual!

"And Now A Word From My Sponsor..."

Where to begin... I am now less than two days away from entering the hospital come this Monday morning at 5:30 a.m.to undergo a five hour heart by-pass procedure. Although I have had a whirlwind of pre-operative activities these past two weeks...EKG, blood test, x-rays, etc. - I have managed to keep my mind occupied with other than dwelling on the looming certainty that for the next four to five weeks I am going to be reduced to the totally unfamiliar state of inactivity punctuated by an initial period of physical discomfort. I have resigned myself to that fact, but it doesn't take away that ever present sense of foreboding, knowing that even though I tolerate pain rather well, when it is persistent and unrelenting, my patient and tolerance grows very thin. As the saying goes,"It is what it is," and I will bear up and deal with it.

Even though the surgery in its aftermath is certainly foremost in the immediacy of my coming days and weeks, my largest and most nagging concerns resolves around the fact that as of yesterday I will have no weekly income, having been "laid off" from my job. I'm not bitter about that turn of events. The company I worked for has but five employees and it is, therefore, economically untenable for my employer to continue to pay my weekly salary when there is barely enough cash reserves in these continuing hard economic times to sustain day-to-day operations. My employer is continuing to underwrite my health insurance that is costing him over a thousand dollars a month, for which I am most grateful. Otherwise, Judi and I would be facing economic ruin.

I would be a liar if I didn't admit that I am carrying a certain level of anxiety into these coming days and weeks, but I also maintain an prevailing sense of peace that everything will work out, that the God that I love and trust and believe in will sustain us through these difficult times. As a proof of His watch care, I played golf this past Thursday with my senior pastor and our minister of worship. Throughout the round they badgered me lovingly with questions of my mental outlook and prospects for the future. I relayed to them off-handily that I was facing a $400.00 co-pay for my hospital stay plus other incidental expenses that Judi and I would have to pay ourselves out of pocket. The following day, as I was assisting our church's maintenance staff in their efforts to secure favorable vendor proposals to up-grade the facility's fire alarm system, I was invited to step into the administrative director's office at the conclusion of that meeting, where I was greeted again by my "golfing buddies" and told that all "out-of-pocket" medical expenses would be underwritten in full by my church. "This church loves you, Jim. You have for years given so unselfishly in some many incalculable ways to the welfare of this church and it's family of members. You are family and we take care of family." A wonderful and most unexpected gesture of human kindness, or an answer to prayer? Both!

You see...I have long ago given up trusting in fate, but have never given up in trusting in my faith. God has time and time again lead me through many past shadow valleys and said to me in His still quite voice, "Well done, my good and faithful servant. Your full rewards are truly in Heaven, but while you remain as my servant here on earth I am your ever faithful care giver and provider." So even though I face an unpleasant immediate future my rewards are assured. And for this I am truly thankful.

For the time being I say to all who visit this attempt at being a genuine fellow traveler in this journey called life, I must sign off for what I pray will be for a short respite, only to come back again better than ever and to celebrate my recovery and new heath with you all. Peace and may God find you worthy of all that He so lovingly bestows on you as blessings.

"Maybe That's Why Little Johnny Can't Read..."

As I have related in a previous post, my love of reading goes back to when I was 12 years of age and my 6th grade teacher challenged me to read Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. My initial reaction, upon seeing the novel's thickness and feeling the heft of the book, was "There's no way on God's green earth am I going to even begin to read this stupid book," or words to that effect. But once I started, the words I was reading with initial reluctance began to pull me into the story and soon I was literally mesmerized by this epic tale of trial and triumph. Every available minute that I could scratch out from my daily boyish routine was devoted to climbing back into the folds of the book, so dedicated had I become to seeing the story to its end.

My transformation from literature no weightier than comic books to recognized and renowned words of true written art occurred in the 1950s aided by a teacher who reflected the majority of the teachers of that era, so devoted were they to truly teaching their young and impressionable charges entrusted to their daily care the love for and the necessity of learning. I owe these teachers a debt of gratitude that I have only been able to repay by continuing my quest for knowledge through the written word and to impart successfully that same appreciative quest on to my daughter. I fear, however, those days shall never be immolated in today's teaching environment.

Date Line - Rochester, New York. The school district for this city provided the seventh and eighth grade students and teachers with the questions and answers for a required test that covered four core studies: English, math, science, and social studies. Despite having the answers to each and every one of the questions, over one half of the students failed! (Source: onenewsnow.com - 7/26/2008).

Connie Leech, the district supervisor for Rochester's secondary schools, stated that this unorthodox method of imparting knowledge was "probably not in the best judgement," but denied that any deliberate wrong doing had occurred. Ms. Leech continued, "I'm not concerned that it's a cheat. What we were doing is giving kids a better sense of the knowledge that they needed for the test. " Not a cheat!?!" Did the test scores count towards the student's final grade?"A better sense of the knowledge..." Ms. Leech! Over half the class failed the test! What sense of knowledge did the failing students acquire in any sense?

I have long been an advocate of publicly funded education and do believe that the majority of the teachers within these schools are striving against ever increasing odds to present essential core subject materials that will benefit each student as they grow toward adulthood. But I am becoming more and more alarmed that our nation's school system(s) as a rule has become broken to the point where it must undergo a complete overhaul.

Here in the State of Florida, the school systems throughout the state gear their academic year to the annual FCAT - Florida Comprehensive Assessment Test - that is administered to students in grades 3 through 11 for the purpose of increasing student academic achievement by implementing higher standards. Sounds good in theory. Problem with that approach is that the teachers finding themselves "teaching to the test." Adversely compounding that approach is that the annually reported test results have gravitated toward a recognition of the individual schools that have an increase in the overall student performance on the test. That is each individual school receives a letter grade based on the overall performance of its students on the test. A school that does expectationally well receives an "A," less so a "B," average a "C," below average a "D", and an "F" for those unfortunate schools that fail to even remotely improve their student's academic scores. Well, one might conclude, those schools whose performance is at a "C" and below would be spurred on in the next year to perform at a higher level. Again, sounds good in theory, but here's the rub. Those schools with high achievement on the test receive a proportionately larger piece of the educational budgets in the form of "cash awards," while those schools that fail to achieve a passing mark receive less monetary support, with the "F" school receiving no additional monies at all. Now tell me that isn't a totally backward approach to assisting those failing schools to pour more resources into improvement. The state in effect is telling these students and their teachers that "You have to get better on your own." No wonder we are seeing more and more parents giving up on our public school systems and opting to either send their offspring to private institutions or to home school their children themselves.

Said one outspoken critic of public education, "The public school system is really not about education. It's primarily about maintaining the appearance they they're about education, while really being focused on increasing the cash flow to the special interest that benefits the system." He continued, "Our children are falling farther and farther behind people in other industrialized countries. They're (our children) on a trajectory to become the hewers of wood and the drawers of water of the twenty-first century." Good God, I hope this portrayer of doom and gloom for our public school system is wrong, but the evidence is mounting semester after semester to under gird this dire prediction. School system after school system is literally bleeding the communities in which they operate dry with ever increasing taxes with ever decreasing returns. Here in Pinellas County approximately 40% of our local property taxes are earmarked for the support of public education, yet this county has one of the highest high school drop out rates in the entire state! There comes a time when throwing more money at an obvious problem fails miserably to attack the root causes of our schools' demise.

If Rochester's secondary schools are any real indication of this systemic problem, it is long past time that the parents who truly care that their children receive a beneficial education that will seed them toward a productive and self-sustaining adulthood to say "Enough!" We demand accountability for where our tax dollars are being spent on education and we want to assure that our children are being dedicatedly provided a real education, not merely a passing grade. Should we continue to accept the status quo, we are not only ashamedly cheating our children but, at the ultimate end, we will cheat our country out of being afforded the smartest and brightest of our country's greatest natural asset...a nation of well educated children ready and capable to assume the mantel of leadership in their homes and communities.

"Say What!?!"

I thought the controversy that has been brewing like an unattended teapot in these central Florida environs in which vehemently opposing sides have been debating whether or not the local American League Rays professional baseball team should be permitted to build a new waterfront stadium was to be the low light of our contentious summer. But no. Another bombshell had yet to be exploded.

On this past Friday the Strawberry Festival Beauty Pageant Committee announced...hold your breath...that hence forth the contestants in this annual event would no longer be required to participate in a swimsuit competition. Oh the humanity! Well, in my opinion, there goes the neighborhood.

Tradition! Where is the hue and cry to maintain this time honored tradition to endure the talent portions of such extravaganzas so that at long last the time would arrive for the aspiring young ladies to parade across the stage to the admiring gazes of the audience and the critical review of the judges? Is nothing sacred any more? Next thing you know the Miss. America pageant will take a serious look at eliminating the swimsuit competition. Or, perish the thought, Miss. Universe. What is the world coming to?

In response to the critics that questioned this drastic revamping of the pageant, Ms. Sandee Sytsma, the festival queen coordinator stated, "We didn't take lightly breaking tradition," suggesting that the pageant received complaints in prior years that the swimsuit portion of the evening's contest actually precluded many other would be participants. Sounds pretty wimpy to me. In lieu of swimsuits, the ladies will now appear in casual wear outfits...and the grade point average has been elevated from 2.75 to 3.0. Now that is a step in the right direction, although it no doubt will diminish the otherwise likelihood that at least one of the contestants will attempt to provide an answer to a well thought out question that will leave the contestant, judges and audience scratching their heads.

"Okay, Miss. McMasters, take a big breath. As one of the ten finalists in this year's Miss. Garlic Beauty Pageant, sponsored by Sparkling Breath Mouthwash, and the winner of the talent portion of the pageant...and by the way, your consumption of the 21 chilly peppers was truly spectacular...please answer the following question for our esteemed panel of judges."

"Okee-dokey Biff. I'm ready."

"Great. "If you could have one wish come true, what would that one wish be?"

"Oh my...do you mean other than me like winning this contest?"

"Yes, 'like' that."

"Gee Biff...I have so many wishes that I would like to come true." I 'd certainly like it if there was world peace and no more like wars and stuff...and that all the children had mommys and daddys that loved them, and like plenty of food for everyone to eat, and like really clean air to breath, water too, and this global warming stuff would like just go away, and like everyone could like go to a doctor whenever they felt like it, but I wouldn't like want to have a dream like I had last night where I dreamed I had eaten a really nasty chilly hot dog and it made me so sick, and I like threw up all over my evening gown, and..."

"Thank you...thank you, Miss. McMasters. We 'like' get it."

Listen..I get it too. If it were not for the awarding of education scholarships to these aspiring young women for their winning efforts, I would have no difficulty in saying farewell permanently to all beauty pageants, few of which are little more than thinly guised means for commercial exploitation. If such events are to continue then by all means the elimination of the "beauty" portion of the contests, currently overly hyped and emphasized by gratuitous displays of sexuality, would be a most welcomed alteration. There is a grace to womanhood that need not be sexually exploited, but enhanced by the deliberate display and appreciation of their God-given talents and mental acumen. I appreciate the appearance of a good looking lady in a bathing suit as much as the next male, preferring to enjoy that appreciation in its proper setting, like walking along a beach. Parading in swim attire in the glare of stage lighting serves no viable conclusion other than to garner a wider prurient spectator.

Having said that...I need to locate my ticket to this weekend's Miss. Biker Babe Pageant.