Hurdling Life's Purpose

I heard an ad for the Summer Olympics this morning. In it, Morgan Freeman stated there are 6,000,000,000 people in the world, and for one moment, every four years, we all come together.

6 billion people. Where did they all come from? When Bob Hayes won the 100 meter dash in 1964 to claim the title, "World's Fastest Man", he only had 3 billion competitors. How awesome would it be to know you are the world's best something? Even if you finished last in the 100, you could claim to be the "World's 8th Fastest Man".

I can't imagine being one of the best anything. Best blogger? Technorati has me ranked 4,978,471 on their list. I'm not proud of that. Best golfer? Of the 26.2 million golfers in America, my handicap would put me in the middle of the pack, or "America's 13,478,945th Best Golfer". I think I am going to print that on the back of my business card.

Julie says everyone brings something unique to the world. She identified her best trait as optimism. She chooses to be happy instead of sad and wakes up smiling; we are a ying and yang couple. She wants to bring good feelings to everyone she meets every day of her life. She is the "World's Nicest Person".

She asked me what I thought I brought to the world? I couldn't think of a damn thing. I'm lost in the sea of 6 billion people. I'm one of the other guys in a Where's Waldo picture - a human lemming. Ever hopeful, Julie said my contribution to the world is my forgiving nature.

I'm not sure her assessment is correct, but that's okay.

World Turning

Sanity is making a comeback! Soft drink manufacturers, armed with statistics on declining sales of 20 ounce bottles, are beginning to test markets with smaller bottles. After 2 decades of trying to drown us in cola, Coke is blaming the 20 ounce bottle for poor financial results. Evidently, we consumers are looking for something a wee bit smaller to quench our thirst.

It's about time. I have always hated the bigger plastic bottle - I never finish the damn thing. Give me a 12 ounce can, or better yet a 10 ounce glass bottle. When I need a drink, I'm just looking for a little revival and not a full blown baptism.

I must admit, I've often done a sanity check on myself after going through a diatribe about huge servings of soda. Don't get me going on the Big Gulp! But after reading a Wall Street Journal article yesterday on the cola kings assessment of the big bottle market, I felt a sense of vindication.

The retro-burger is next - a single patty with a piece of cheese on top.

Downside of Moving Up

My eldest son, John recently got promoted by his company. He got a big pay raise and the responsibility to go along with it. I am happy to see a career path open up for him. No worries where John is concerned.

But along with the move to management came a moving van to take the family up to Boston. Well, Dedham by way of Attleboro really, but anyone working or living east of Worcester calls Boston home.

I probably won't visit him at the office in Dedham, but I'll certainly make my way to Attleboro for a Sunday dinner. His new address is 90 miles from our house whereas the old address was about 30. It's not like it was when he was in Montana, but 90 takes some planning whereas 30 is in the neighborhood.

I'm happy for John, really I am. Only good things will come from this move for him. Notice I said "for him". For me, I know I'll get a little less of Nathaniel - my favorite guy in the world. Bummer!

Hey, John, I noticed how close Attleboro is on a map to Rhode Island. Please don't let those morons teach him to say the word "f-f-f-ack-err".

Dad

Memorial Day Brought to Light

We cherish too, the Poppy red

That grows on fields where valor led,

It seems to signal to the skies

That blood of heroes never dies.

- Moina Michael

This weekend I attended a wedding for my niece in San Antonio, Texas. I had a chance to chat with her new father-in-law, a retired Air Force B-52 radar navigator. In 1978, I won the Airman of the Month Award at Wurtsmith AFB. The grand prize was a chance to sit in the cockpit of a B-52. I also was part of the Rapid Runway Repair Unit, oft referred to as the Elmer Fudd Squad due to the difficulty of saying "wapid wunway wepair". Our job was to clear the Michigan snows from the tarmac should the B-52s need to scramble on red alert. While he and I wouldn't be invited to the same reunion, we had a common thread for discussion.

During our conversation Bill mentioned he is a runner. In fact, he has run in a number of marathons. You have to be of a determined mind set to run a marathon. I've played a lot of sports and understand the will to win, but I can't see myself ever being capable of running 26 miles.

In the Bataan Peninsula, Luzon Island, Philippines, April 9, 1942, American and Filipino soldiers surrendered to the Japanese army and were ordered to march 60 miles to a prisoner of war camp. Exhausted from battle, and without water and food, 75,000 men were subjected to starvation, dehydration, and execution as they made their way through the jungles to Camp O'Donnell for imprisonment. As many as 11,000 died on the dusty roads between Mariveles Corregidor and San Fernando.

Bill honors the memory of the American soldiers who died in The Bataan Death March by running a marathon held annually in the desert sands of New Mexico. He is among 4,000 mostly military who endure extreme conditions as a way to commune with a generation of heroes from the past. Some wear runner's gear while others dress in full military uniform sporting a 35 pound pack. This year a special group of 32 veterans from the Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts completed the 26.2 mile course - amputees.

I don't know, maybe determination isn't the right word after all. There is more than that going on with these people of honor.

On this day, I am thankful for those who died fighting for my freedom.

On this day, I am thankful for having met Bill Reynolds and humbled by the storyline of Bataan.

On this day, I am thankful Moina Michael thought a red Poppy was a way to keep all the memories alive.

In the Books

Celebration of Love

Uniting

Alisa Mullen Dubay

&

William Jason Reynolds

Saturday

The Twenty-Fourth of May

Two Thousand and Eight

Our Lady of Perpetual Help

Catholic Church

Selma, Texas

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me. Then the God of peace will be with you.

- Saint Paul, in the city of Philippi, 50 A.D.

Test Run

My niece, and God daughter, is getting married this afternoon at 3:00. I met her husband-to-be, Billy, last night. I also met his family. Nice man. Nice folks.

Wonderful to see people in love and committed to each other. Here's to a beautiful and sacred day, Billy and Alisa. Thank you for allowing me to share in your covenant.

Floaties are for Wimps!

I fly so much I never pay attention to flight instructions. Even when seated in the exit row, I nod my head to appear as though I am listening, but I never hear a word. Part of it is a fatalistic view that if the plane is going down, does it really matter? And still, I do dream of appearing on Letterman as a survivor.

Anyhow, Tuesday I heard the end of a recorded Delta announcement that did catch my attention, "...and if we land in the water, some of the seat cushions can be used as a flotation device."

Some? Why not all? And when exactly would you find out if yours was one that didn't float? How much of a bummer would it be to be on a 747 screaming towards the Atlantic, survive the impact of the crash, crawl towards the nearest exit - seat in hand, slide down the wing and sink like a stone? Wah-wah!

The upside would be if you could tread water while ocean swells tossed you around for a few hours , you'd be guaranteed a late night slot on all the networks.

Displaced

The Catholic Transcript asked me to photograph an Ordination Mass this past weekend. Hobbled by a knee injury, I didn't have the heart to tell them I couldn't do it. So I enlisted some help from my daughter-in-law, Keyla. I think I just put myself out of a job. She took some stunning photos!

As lovely a celebration as you'll ever witness, the Ordination Mass is on par with a wedding when it comes to photos. Thank you God for giving Keyla an artistic eye. I think we might be onto something here - Mullen Family Photographers.

Thank you, Keyla for climbing the stairs.

Remembering to Live

I don’t think I am a nostalgic person. I mean, I do like to reminisce, but only for the art of the tale. I’m not really interested in going back.

Well, maybe I am. Yesterday I took a stroll on the Jacksonville fishing pier overlooking the city beach. Young hard bodies played, flirted and kissed under the sunny skies of Florida. Gentle waves rolled in and the day floated by for those too disconnected to care. I know I use to have days like these.

(1975) Hopping on my motorcycle, I headed up Route 2 towards the Huntington Gorge. The anthem of a lifetime rollicking around in my head, I really was born to run. Another rebel without a cause filled with anger that came from nowhere. A drag on an Old Gold, a sip of ice cold Bud and Swallows darting along the riverbanks took it all away. No cares and no worries. Plans to pick up a six pack and make out most of the night. Tomorrow didn’t even exist.

Just Short of Perfect

James' graduation ceremony is this morning at 11 - yikes, I gotta get going!

Anyhow, the kid has done it all in his 4, er-ah, 5 short years. At Eastern they have a tradition during Freshman Orientation where each of the new students tosses a coin in the campus wishing well. I'm pretty sure everything James wished for came true...well, almost.

Springtime Harvest

It's party time at The Mullen Homestead! James dons the cap and gown tomorrow, but for this evening it's family, friends and a hardy celebration. The boy, now a man, worked hard to get to this moment. Congratulations, Scooter!

Funny Bone

A week ago Sunday, I turned my knee while playing with the grandchildren. I was kind of hoping it was just a sprain, but unfortunately, there is a tear in the meniscus.

The timing couldn't be worse. Post injury my schedule includes partaking in a Confirmation, photographing an ordination, attending a college graduation ceremony, hosting a party, flying to San Antonio to photograph a wedding....and working! Did I mention I am a traveling salesman?

While having a MRI done on Monday, I was reflecting on the seriousness of my injury and the depression that comes with it. But as the Siemans Magnatom cranked up its engine, I wondered if the technician had forgotten to cover up parts that didn't need imaging, namely my testicles. Still having juvenile tendencies at the young age of 51, I began to imagine going home and standing naked in the dark that same evening.

"Hey, Juls! Come take a look at this. I got a glow sack!"

I don't think of myself as vain, but sometimes I do find some of the random thoughts roaming around in my brain to be quite funny. A glow sack struck me as funny, and I began to chuckle as I was undergoing the imaging. Knowing I was supposed to lay as still as possible made me laugh all the more. No matter what I thought about, an image of a kryptonite green scrotum kept popping to the forefront of my mind.

It'll be interesting to see what the orthopedic doctor sees when he looks at the photos. Maybe I didn't tear it after all and the jagged line is just the giggles.

"Hey, Juls! Come here and pull my finger!"

Magna Cum Lousy

My son James has 1 more test to take and pass, and he's a free man! Well, not free really, but he'll have his college degree. I have been so busy the last few days that I've not consciously thought of him, but the mind is a funny thing.

Last night I had a dream we were back in Burlington, VT. I had the family with me and we were walking past the University of Vermont when all of a sudden a storm of biblical proportions came upon the city. The sky turned dark and gale force winds began to blow. The skies opened up and as they did chunks of the street began to melt away like butter.

We ran towards Prospect Street and scrambled to break into a familiar English Tudor home. We were able to climb a lattice to a 2nd floor window. Looking back out onto the street we could see a pack of dogs frantically paddling through the swirling waters down below. No thoroughbreds among them, they all wore red or blue bandannas instead of a dog collar. Young men dressed in torn khakis played hacky sack on Redstone Campus as a cresting wave threatened to drown them all.

Then I woke up. As I was getting dressed, I looked around the closet for my diploma. I threw away the transcript after getting my first job. I did graduate, didn't I?

Good luck tomorrow, James and not to worry, I'll throw you a lifeline if the waters start to rise.

Preparing for Thunderdome

I think we're going to plant a vegetable garden this summer. I'm also thinking about digging a fallout shelter underneath the garage.

After paying $850 for a tank of oil and $60 to fill up the Honda, Road Warrior doesn't seem much like science fiction anymore.

Superior Gender

I appreciate my mother more and more as the years go by. Somehow I had set in my mind a parent's duty was to raise a child through the early years, give them a foundation and then let them go. I now know this only works in the animal kingdom; a human needs to be nurtured for a lifetime.

Happy Mother's Day, Ma.

What's On Tap?

In 1996 we took a trip to Ireland to lay down and roll around in the auld sod. Somewhere in between the Cliffs of Moher and The Burren, we stepped into a country pub to have a pint.

"I'll have a Murphy," said I.

"You'll have a Guinness," said he!

Michael Collins drank Guinness. James Joyce, and by extension Leopold Bloom, drank Guinness. Brendan Behan drank lots of Guinness. Okay, so it's a Guinness for me then.

There is something spiritual about a pint of Guinness; Paddy Keenan, the king of all uilleann pipers, told me so. While playing a session at Declan McCarthy's in Baltimore (Ireland), he gave up one secret to his soulful music - a pint or two of the ale. He actually talked about having given up drinking, all while sipping a Guinness. I later learned that a pint or two wasn't drinking. Ten or more was drinking. Ah, the Irish have so much common sense.

Well, yesterday a headline in the Wall Street Journal read, "Diageo Plans Overhaul At Guinness Brewery in Ireland". The first paragraph of the story foretold of closing two plants outside of Dublin and laying off half the staff. My immediate thought was civilization as we know it is coming to an end. Maybe Sir Arthur was too quick to sign the 9,000 year St Jame's Gate lease back in 1759. Who could have known?

Reading on, I found the owners of the earthy Guinness concoction were merely planning a shift in resources to make the company more competitive. They've got their heart set on building a state of the art facility, read lights out manufacturing, and the way to pay for it is to sell off less productive plants and fire the crew.

Evidently low cost breweries in places such as China, read slave labor, are forcing Diageo's hand. 吉尼斯是好的为您! Seriously, what the hell are the Chinese doing swilling around in my beer? Poor labor conditions, no individual freedoms, and the systematic killing of millions of babies - what is every one's fascination with China?

Another factor leading to the shift in strategy is Guinness is no longer the exclusive drink in Ireland. I wonder what my friend the county barkeep would say to me now? With the advent of brew-pubs and vodka martinis, there are infinite ways to find your soul.

But is it really true the more things change, the more they stay the same? I don't know. I have a hard time envisioning Padraig Pearse holding up a bottle of Corona at Davy Byrnes Pub saying, "Life springs from death; and from the graves of patriot men and women spring living nations. Can I get a twist of lime, please?"

No, me thinks it is time for all lovers of Guinness to pray to the patron saint of brew, Saint Brigid. We need to ask her to protect the Irish essence of the sacred libation, Guinness. Stoli will only bring you the devil!

St Brigid's Prayer

I'd like to give a lake of beer to God.

I'd love the Heavenly

Host to be tippling there

For all eternity.

I'd love the men of Heaven to live with me,

To dance and sing.

If they wanted, I'd put at their disposal

Vats of suffering.

White cups of love I''d give them,

With a heart and a half;

Sweet pitchers of mercy I'd offer

To every man.

I'd make Heaven a cheerful spot,

Because the happy heart is true.

I'd make the men contented for their own sake

I'd like Jesus to love me too.

I'd like the people of heaven to gather

From all the parishes around,

I'd give a special welcome to the women,

The three Marys of great renown.

I'd sit with the men, the women of God

There by the lake of beer

We'd be drinking good health forever

And every drop would be a prayer.

Kyrie Eleison

While reading a pamphlet about the Catholic Mass, I came across a statement from St. Therese of Lisieux that speaks volumes about God's infinite mercy.

"...if I had committed all possible crimes, I would still have the same confidence. I would feel that this multitude of offenses would be like a drop of water cast into a blazing fire."

Like a drop of water cast into a blazing fire! What wonderful poetry.

Staying Back

I've reported in the past about our plight with squirrels in the attic - literally not figuratively. We've taken measures to remove the rodents by shooting at them with a BB gun (pacifist can't shoot straight!), poison pellets, wire grates, moth balls, pest control services and animal traps lined with peanuts.

$400 worth of pest control and removal services worked for about 6 months. Then, early one quiet morning, a furry-tailed varmint hung from a gutter and waved at me through my bedroom window. He was happy to be back, and despite my efforts to shoot him in the past, thought I was happy to see him.

Frankly, I've been disappointed our cat has not been more of a deterrent. Dora is very good at picking apart birds, but I've actually seen her sunning on the deck with the squirrels. What could a squirrel give a cat for a bribe? Our old cat, Shadow would have gutted the little bastards and dropped the pelts at my feet.

Julie caught two rodents this week by setting the trap on the back porch. The squirrels are wising up to our techniques, but Dora apparently likes peanuts!

School Project

Most everyone uses Google to search for lost treasures on the Internet. But Google has a lot of other free programs available that are pretty darn good.

Picasa houses and organizes all my blog photos. In addition to being a photo sharing application, Picasa has a neat little package of editing tools. For the digital photo neophyte, the one-click "I'm Feeling Lucky" feature will improve all your shots.

Google Analytics keeps track of who visits my websites, how they got there, what they look at and how long they stay in the house of Moon. Presented in both numeric and graphical formats, my trend lines are pretty darn steady. I'm still an unknown.

But more and more I am enjoying the convenience of Gmail, Calendar and Google Docs. I have no idea how Microsoft is going to make a living in the future, but it won't be selling Office. While the Google equivalents aren't quite as powerful as the Microsoft versions, being free and hosted convinced me not to buy Office for my home computer. No regrets.

Google Docs allows you to publish your files to a website or blog. They have come out with a new min-presentation feature for embedding a slide show. Below is my homework project for the day. I put a few photos from the Pope's visit to NYC in a presentation. I don't think it runs on its own, so you'll have to click to change from slide to slide. Did I mention it was free?

More Fun Live

Through the magic of the Internet you can play online games with just about anyone in the world - a stranger in Ireland, a kid across town, extended family. But how much better is it to sit in the same room, share a six-pack, order a pepperoni & mushroom pie, and high five each other on the winning goal? Cousin Ian moved back from Florida this weekend, and made his first stop Xbox Emporium, West Springfield, MA. Real time with real people, the only way to go!

Finding Felicity

The desire for God is written in the human heart, because man is created by God and for God; and God never ceases to draw man to himself. Only in God will he find the truth and happiness he never stops searching for.

"Let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice." Although man can forget God or reject him, He never ceases to call every man to seek him, so as to find life and happiness. But this search for God demands of man every effort of intellect, a sound will, "an upright heart", as well as the witness of others who teach him to seek God.

- From the Catechism of the Catholic Church

Praying all those I love long for and live in happiness!

Big Day for the Boys

It's party time at the Mullen Ranch (okay, urban ranch). John and James both landed new jobs this week!

John got promoted from a field rep to team manager, and will now get to show off his leadership skills. James parlayed an internship into a full time job with a major conglomerate two weeks shy of his graduation day. Nice to see the boys work hard, show responsibility and move up the ladder. No doubt they are making their mark with integrity.

I'm happy for them both.

Looking for the Hurdy Gurdy Man

Albert Hofmann died on Tuesday at the age of 102. A Swiss scientist, Dr. Hoffman was known for discovering lysergic acid diethylamide - LSD.

In 1943, while working in the lab re-synthesizing LSD, he accidentally absorbed a small quantity through his fingertips. The unknown psychedelic drug didn't kick in for a couple of hours, but once it did, Dr Hoffman experienced a euphoria and explosion of colors unbeknownst to the mind. A few days later he experimented with a heavier dose, and plunged into a spectrum of delusional emotions including the fear he had been possessed by demons.

Dr. Hofmann held a life long belief that LSD was "medicine for the soul". He saw it as a promising drug for treating psychotic illness, although he admitted that if placed in the wrong hands, LSD could be very damaging.

The recreational abuse of acid in the sixties lead to the government making it an illegal substance, but not before giving birth to "acid rock". The Beatles ("turn off your mind, relax, and float downstream"), Jefferson Airplane, and The Grateful Dead all partook in the psychedelic 60's, and influenced the use, or misuse, of LSD.

I've thought about taking LSD. It's one of those once in a lifetime experiments I wouldn't mind trying. If artist see colors beyond the spectrum of the rainbow, and musicians hear notes not played, where would my mind take me? I'd hope to enter the realm of the sacred, but fear I'd be in the land of the sarcastic.

It probably won't happen, but if you ever read a really strange blog, or better yet, one that makes sense...I probably dropped acid.