Happy Memorial Day

Using the word "happy" in greeting someone on Memorial Day may seem out of place. If we are remembering those who have died defending this country, Why should we be happy?

Well...

We should take joy in fact that we live in a country where free men are willing to give their lives for that freedom. We should be happy that they are remembered and that their place in history has not been rewritten by those who would destroy us.

God bless them and God bless America.

Humor Lost

Recently I was wondering about humor and culture and differences of the two as they relate to each other.

One instance was when I took my family to see Bugs Bunny on Broadway at the Fort Worth Convention Center. While we laughed at the coyote’s misfortunes, a girl – possibly from Eastern Europe or Russia – kept saying “that poor creature.” The humor was completely lost on her.

An instructor at the Cross Cultural Communications Course offered by the United States Air Force told us a theory that there are four “levels” of cultural misunderstanding. They are described using a spoken joke:

The first level has a foreigner telling you a joke. Since you do not understand the language, you do not know what he is saying and you do not “get” the joke.

The second level has a foreigner telling you a joke. You know the words but do not know the slang or multiple word definitions. You understand the words but do not understand the meaning.

The third level has a foreigner telling you a joke. You know the words and their full definitions. You understand the joke yet; you do not understand why it is funny.

The fourth level – and the most difficult to overcome – has a foreigner telling you a joke. You understand the joke and you understand why he thinks it is funny. You, however, do not think it is funny.

This spans more than just languages. The culture in Anywhere, West Virginia is different than New York City.

I heard Johnny Cash’s A Boy Named Sue the other day and was reminded of a conversation I had with a Finn a few years ago.

In Finland, an American that was also working with us played the song on his computer. The Finn asked what the premise of the song was. We said that it was about a man whose father had named him “Sue” then left the boy and his mother. The rest of the song is about how he came to be a man and sought revenge on his father.

The Finn was puzzled: “Why was he upset about his name?”

Us: “’Sue’ is a girl’s name.”

Finn: “He was upset for having a girl’s name?”

Me: “Yes. It’s embarrassing.”

Finn: “So people take offense to having a girl’s name?”

Me: “Men do. They also take offense to being called ‘ladies’. Women don’t often get so upset if they are given a man’s name.”

Finn: “So why didn’t he just change his name or say it was something else?”

Me: “That’s part of the humor of the song. Obviously he could just give a different name or change his name himself. His father really couldn’t change his name once the birth certificate was signed. The fact that it was changed and he had to tell everyone that his name was ‘Sue’ is a sort of tomfoolery.”

I’ll take a break from the conversation here to say that I spent the next ten minutes trying to explain what “tomfoolery” is. Finns by and large are not stupid and are in general quick on the uptake. When you happen upon one with a sense of humor though, it can be a wonderful thing – a rare and wonderful thing.

We then continued explaining the song. He still found it hard to believe that anyone would fight over a name. He thought the knife fighting was unsettling. He could not believe that the man singing was carrying a gun and yet, “How could they get into a fight with their fists and not use their guns?”

I think the song, silly as it may be, says a lot about American humor, culture, and attitude. To this day, it is one of my favorites.

He eventually understood, but the Finn still did not think it was funny.

Opportunity Lost

Before lunch the other day, I was on the phone in the car sitting in front of the restaurant. Two pre-adolescent boys were on the apron in front of the restaurant rolling a large coin between each other. One rolled with great exuberance, bouncing the coin onto the windshield of my rental.

The other boy started to run to the car and saw me sitting there. I gave him a slightly annoyed look and he ran to the other boy.

My conference lasted another fifteen minutes. Once finished, I left the car and started toward the restaurant. The mother of one of the boys came to me and apologized for the kids and asked if it would be alright to retrieve the coin. I did not know it but it fell into a crevice on the windshield by the wipers.

During this time, she and the father of one of the boys were looking for their son and his friend. They wanted the boys to apologize to me themselves. Since the boys were not around, I went to get lunch.

While I was in the line talking to cook taking my order, the boys entered the restaurant, standing side-by-side, and approached me. They both said they were sorry in a sort of singsong type of voice. I said that it was “OK” and motioned for them to wait a minute.

They did not wait. They left.

I then paid and went to look for them outside. All of them were gone.

I lost the opportunity to tell them this:

First, do not interrupt adults when they are talking unless it is an emergency. Even if it is just a simple transaction such as ordering lunch, it is still rude to interrupt. (I would not have added that I might make an exception to younger children who have no concept of such manners.)

Second, the fact you bounced a coin onto my windshield is not bad. It was annoying at the worst. Nothing nor anyone was hurt. What is unacceptable was the cowardice you and your friend displayed by running and hiding. The fact that your mother had to apologize for you made it even worse. I expect better of men than that. If you are to become men, “own up” to your actions starting now.


The funny thing is that I was guilty of much the same thing when I was a child, albeit younger than either of them. A friend of mine shot a window out of a car with my BB gun. (It was parked in a drive way unattended, not entering the toll way with adults and children in it). We stashed the gun and ran and hid. Our parents quickly corrected the situation and we both learned that running away from responsibility was far worse than taking it.

I hope their parents do the same for them.

That Screams “Wimp” to Me

I heard Obama mention he had been to the other “57 states” in the Union. He was referring to the Continental United States, i.e. all states except for Alaska and Hawaii. I think it was Oregon that he had not visited yet or was visiting at the time.

Obviously, he meant to say “47”.

His staff dismissed it as fatigue, saying he was campaigning hard and was tired. In other words, “Of course he isn’t that stupid.”

He also mentioned that he would have gone to Alaska and Hawaii but his staff would not let him.

This is what the statement says to me:

Either Obama does not “have the horses” to President – an extremely physically and mentally demanding position – or is unable to manage his time well enough to take a nap.

I have known several non-commissioned officers and junior officers that would remain awake for days because they did not want to appear weak. This resulted in them being ineffectual and fatigued. More experienced Marines would ensure that not only their Marines were rested enough to operate but that they were as well.

In short, this says that he is either too weak or too immature for a leadership position.

The part about not “being allowed” to go to Alaska or Hawaii is bothersome too. He is campaigning for President. Yet, staffers tell him he cannot go. As President, would he let staffers tell him what he can and cannot do? Would he let an accountant dictate financial policy to him? Would he let a contractor dictate what to build? Would he let the maids and janitors dictate where he must sleep and defecate?

I can foresee him having a press conference saying, “We were going to patrol the Persian Gulf but Saudi Arabia said we couldn’t. So we didn’t.”

The United States does not need a President who needs to be coddled and told what to do.

100 Times and Seething Rage

Two weeks ago, I took my older children to play a few video games at the local Dave and Busters after dinner. It was no special occasion. It was spontaneous. I do not think I gave it any thought until we were having dinner.

We had fun there. All went well until we were about to leave and my oldest dropped my phone. She had been holding it for me while I was playing a game. My phone is one of those high-dollar ones used for business. The screen was shattered. I did not know it at the time but it was more than $200 in damage. While that annoyed me, I realized it was an accident. I was not even upset with my kid, although I though I would have been.

On the way home, something happened to put it into perspective.

It was a quarter-to-nine in the evening. We were driving along the service road to the Dallas North Tollway to the next entrance ramp.

Immediately in front of us was a mid-nineties Mazda with a custom gold paint job, chrome wheels, and Self Adhesive Ornamental Fender Vents™ (get yours today at Autozone™ for $1.50!).

The driver of the car was swerving between both lanes and going slow. The speed limit there is fifty miles per hour. They were going about twenty. At one point, near the entrance ramp, they slowed to ten.

I honked. I did not put on a long New York Style cabbie honk. I try not to be rude – even to those who are rude themselves. I did a Hey Get Going There Are Cars Coming Up From Behind Us Doing Fifty honk.

They sped and we sped. Though they still stayed below the speed limit, it was no matter to us because just a few seconds later, we took the entrance ramp to the tollway.

I looked at them as we passed. This is something I tend to always do – i.e. look at the drivers around me. I then looked back at the road. Then I heard a BOOM followed by a slight crack. I looked to my right at my oldest and then back at my younger and saw that the right rear window of my wife’s minivan was shattered.

I wondered if it had been a rock then realized that the window had to have shot.

The last three paragraphs took place in less than a second’s time.

I checked my kids to make sure they were not hurt. They were fine. My oldest was in the front while my younger was in a middle-row seat.

I could not see the car. The tollway drops about thirty feet below the level of the service road at that point. As soon as the window was shot, we were no longer in their line of site or were they in mine.

I called the police to tell them what happened immediately after that. Unfortunately, I did not know the name of the street or “knew it incorrectly”. They were going to meet me on the road but since I gave them the wrong street, it took thirty minutes before they met me. (I was only a few blocks from the station. I called them a second time to tell them that but they were still several miles from me.)

The shoulder there was too narrow to safely park so I started to the next exit. It then occurred to me that if they were to continue through the next intersection on the service road, we could meet them after taking the exit ramp.

As much as I wanted to kill these people, keeping my kids from a gun fight was my top priority. I slowed to a crawl and then exited.

The police finally arrived. They took a report and pictures of the window. They agreed that it was highly unlikely a rock would have done that – even had it been thrown. The officer on the scene said that it may have been a BB gun. I am guessing that would be a high powered BB but I suppose it is possible. I was doing about fifty miles per hour and was about thirty yards from them at that point but it could be possible. A low-energy pistol such as a .25 or a .32 is more likely.

I cleaned the car when I got home, vacuuming the glass and taping the window. All the while, I was looking for a bullet.

The sad part is that I have replayed this a hundred times in my head wondering if I could have reacted better. If one of my children had been hurt, I would still know no more about the shooter. I would have gone immediately to a hospital. That is the only thing I think I would have done differently. Fortunately, I did not have to do that.

It is frustrating that even now, I cannot think of anything I would do differently. I would still honk at someone driving erratically. I am still not going to un-holster before honking. I would still make sure that my kids are safe above all else.

Yet, this still angers me beyond words and I am left with almost a sense of despair as to how I could have stopped them from ever doing that again.