I am a late arrival to understanding the importance of ceremony in our lives. 

But I've often been late to understanding the more cerebral things in life.  I suppose I'm a slow learner but I also think it's due to my tendency to overlook the obvious.  The forest for the trees and such.  I recently posted about completely missing Anton Chirguh as the symbol of fate/death in No Country for Old Men.  You get the idea...

Fortunately some things are hard to miss.  One of those things occurred last night.  The church my late aunt attended holds a yearly service for those who have passed in the last twelve months.  My father and I attended in her honor.

It's the major Methodist church in my hometown and as such is the beneficiary of well-to-do members.  The outside of the building is pedestrian but the sanctuary is impressive with its simplicity and beauty.  I had been in the sanctuary before but had forgotten how it's construction and furnishings lends itself to its purpose.

The service of remembrance was primarily musical.  It was beautiful to hear and see.  A fifty something member choir was backed by two cellos, two violas, a violin, a bass and a harp player.  It sounded like the words that were sung were in Latin or some other foreign language and when I looked at the program that was the case as translations were listed for each segment.  A baritone and a soprano took their turns as well.  The massive stained glass rendering of Jesus overlooked us all and provided a stunning visual of why we were there.  My father whispered to me at one point that this was the same sanctuary that my maternal grandfather's funeral was held in.  He died when I was very young and I barely knew him but it made me feel good to know that.

There were thirty-two passings in the last year at the church, my father's sister being one of them.  As each of those names were called a representative of the family came forward to receive one single white rose in remembrance.  I recognized some names.  The former CEO of the Fortune 500 company headquartered in town.  The father of a judge was another.  A couple of names I had heard my parents talk about in the past. 

My father and I made the trip up the main aisle together and we were greeted and handed the white rose by the minister who presided over my aunt's graveside service.  When we returned to our seats my father whispered to me that she would have reveled in this ceremony and that our presence would have been important to her.  And he said, as we southerners sometimes say, she rose above her upbringing to deserve this type of service.  He was right.

My father had asked me earlier if I thought it would be OK for him to leave before the service was over.  At age eighty-nine he had put in twelve hours of work already for the day and I told him that it was fine to do so.  He left with the single white rose in his hand. 

My thoughts went to my childhood and the Mother's Day services at our small church.  Each year children of living mothers were honored by wearing a red rose on their clothes.  I did it many times. 

White roses were worn by those children whose mothers had passed.  My father, who lost his mother before he was ten years old, always wore a white rose.

We humans are sometimes capable of extraordinary things.  Ceremonies of remembrance are one of those things.

I love everything about this time of the year except one thing.

I'm a morning person and I've been an early riser for years but I have a hard time waking up and getting moving right now.  During the summer I'm up at 6 and raring to go.  Now I have to drag myself out of bed and it takes me at least ten minutes into my shower before I begin to wake up.    

It's the early morning darkness.  In the summer it's daylight before 6 and I have no problem waking or getting up.  But now I'm halfway through my commute before it's daylight. 

My body eventually adjusts to this time of year but it takes a few weeks for it do so.  In the meantime I stumble around in slow motion and basically act like the senior I am.  

I don't like it.  But you can't fool Mother Nature.

It was bizarro world during lunch today.

On the way to eat I was stopped at a light in a residential area and heard a thud on the roof of my car.  I got out to see what happened and saw a green walnut rolling away from the car.  I looked up at the tree above only to see another one falling which barely missed me and my car.

Then I went to a local sandwich shop.  Fortunately I had finished my sandwich when a middle-aged guy walked in wearing bib overalls.  With no shirt.  And he easily weighed three-hundred pounds.  Come on, guy--give us a break.

Finally I left to go back to work and while driving saw a man on a riding lawnmower.  He was on the street.  In my lane.  And his mower had rear view mirrors on it.  Big rear view mirrors like those found on large trucks.

OK, that's my weirdness for the week.

It's an absolute gorgeous day in East Tennessee. 

The temperature is in the high seventies with low humidity and there's some nice sunshine without it being too glaring. 

I took the opportunity to watch a tennis match on our home courts.  I'm always surprised by the athletic ability of all our athletes who look so young but play so mature.  I can only conclude each generation gets better in that regard.  They certainly get bigger and more athletic.  I'm a shade under six feet but all the males on the tennis team except one are taller.  Even some of the females are taller.

It was nice to literally stop and smell the roses.  I looked one way and could see the tennis matches.  Another way I could see soccer practice and yet another way baseball players throwing and hitting.  Both of the above on beautiful green fields.  Then on the way back into my building I ran into the track and cross country teams on their way to practice. 

It made me realize that I'm pretty lucky to be here.  Life can be really good sometimes.  Count me one of the lucky ones for today.

I was getting ready to prepare the ark this weekend when it finally quit raining.

The final total from Friday evening through Saturday night was officially four inches at the Medlock mansion.  Mrs. Medlock's pool was near overflowing and had to be lowered before it overflowed.  As pool boy I was ready and willing and performed my duties without regard to my personal safety.

One year ago we were over twelve inches under normal rainfall.  Prior to the weekend rain we were about one inch under so in one weekend we went from under to over normal.  Clearly the Big Guy is making up for last year's omissions.

Since there was no opportunity for outside work I decided to finally hook up my new blu-ray player and television to the internet.  Numerous tries to make that work wirelessly failed so I bought this.  It took all of ten minutes and worked like a charm.  Just one problem.  Mrs. Medlock doesn't like all the cords. 

There are only three but that's three too many.  As a veteran of many years of marriage I know exactly what to do.  I need to call an installer that will run the cable through the interior walls and place a nice outlet for both cable and ethernet.  It will no doubt cost a pretty penny but that's what it will take to make things right again.  And not coincidentally get me out of trouble.  And so it goes.

I don't think I will ever understand professional athletes behavior off the field.

The latest example is Plaxico Burress who is giving up millions of dollars in salary and two years of his freedom for the incredibly stupid thing of carrying an unregistered gun into a nightclub and accidentally shooting himself.  It makes me wonder.  Did he ever have a thought that it might not be a good idea?  Did he ever consider just hiring a bodyguard rather than carrying a gun himself?  I think a logical person, especially one making a large amount of money, would consider those things before doing what he did.  And if he did consider them and opted for carrying the gun...well, then, I think I know what the problem is.

Where are these people's brains?  And where are their friends and families advising them against something like that?  I'm pretty sure that my family would have some advice for me if they knew I was carrying a gun anywhere but to the target range.

I've got a theory about why these things happen.  I think it's something lacking from the parental side during their childhood.  I'm convinced that most of what we are as adults come from our upbringing by our parents or the lack thereof.  Given the state of marriage in this country the last 30 years or so I think we are seeing some actions like Burress's as a result.  And I don't think it's racial in any way.  My life experience has told me stupidity has no lock on any particular race.   

And I think I know how to greatly reduce these instances of stupidity.  Let's say the NFL decides to make a rule that suspends a player for one full year for every instance of where he's convicted or pleads guilty to a felony.  And if it happens again he's banned for life.  I don't think that's harsh.  It's actually harsher in the real world where you lose you job permanently if convicted of a felony and sometimes if you're just arrested for one.  Let's not forget something.  That accidental gunshot by Burress could have killed someone and it might have been an innocent bystander.  Do the crime, pay the time.  Seriously.

I think this article is dead on.

The Medlocks come from a long line of hard workers.  We love to work.  We are big into planning, organizing, directing and controlling.  It's just in our genes.  Here's proof.  Father Medlock will be 89 next month and he still works two days a week.  For the last three weeks he's done so while battling a case of shingles.

But sometimes we need to just slow things down and quit pushing ourselves.  I think this article has some good suggestions.  My favorite is number ten.  Pretend to meditate.  I can take thirty minutes to an hour and really recharge my batteries by doing...nothing.  OK, not really nothing but just thinking and being contemplative.  I've always felt that there's a lot to be said for just being contemplative.  It truly is a simple pleasure.

I also like number six.  When I was growing up Sundays were for church and then rest.  Nobody ever worked on Sunday and practically all businesses were closed.  It's different now.  Each of the last two Sundays I've planned to do nothing but church and watch the football games.  Both Sundays I ended up running errands and going to the gym.  That's hardly restful and relaxing.  But I'm in a habit that is hard to break.

When I read number four I thought of the Professor.  He's got the Medlock genes too but for some reason he has nearly all of the lust for travel genes.  And when he does he's mostly a wanderer.  I couldn't do that.  My brain doesn't work that way.  I'd screw it up by making an itinerary and schedule.

Tonight is gym night.  That's because Sunday was gym day and I go every other day.  I've got to break that habit and go when I feel like going rather than by a schedule.  Maybe I'll start that change tonight.  And just pretend to meditate.  Or maybe a nap.

As I get older I find myself increasingly protective of my health.

When I walked in the office this morning my assistant told me that she was going to have to leave to take her young son to the doctor.  She thought he had the flu and maybe the swine flu.  No swine flu cases have been reported in town or on the campus where I work but flu, not necessarily of the swine variety, is reportedly prevalent on campuses across the country.

I realized after speaking with her that I had been touching some of her office equipment while we were talking.  I went immediately to my office for the hand sanitizer.  It's becoming a habit.  Before I go to lunch each day I make a point of washing my hands.  And when I take my contacts out at night I wash my hands.  I wash my hands at least four or five times at work and a couple of times at home.

Two weeks ago my soon to be eighty-nine year old father came down with shingles.  He's doing OK now but not without some pain and discomfort.  I'm not keen on taking a lot of medication but after researching shingles I took the shingles vaccine last Friday.  At a cost of $199 it isn't cheap and it isn't guaranteed to prevent shingles.  But it supposedly reduces your risk by fifty percent and makes the effect somewhat less if you do get shingles.  My arm is currently a little sore but so far so good.

I do other preventative medicine.  Of course I try to exercise at the gym at least three times a week.  I take a multi vitamin and a fish-oil capsule on alternating days and a baby aspirin every day.  I haven't taken a flu shot in three years because a co-worker blamed the shot for his immune-related disease and after I researched what he told me it had at least some possibility of being related.

I've noticed after I reached fifty that my body is more sensitive to illness.  It hits me harder and it takes me longer to recover.  Hey, just because I'm paranoid about getting sick doesn't mean sickness won't come after me.  To paraphrase the Staples, you've gotta protect yourself.

I read this lengthy article about the nation's emergency rooms while I was eating lunch today. 

I became very familiar with the ER over the last several years because of my aunt's health.  She got there each time by ambulance as she was too feeble to go by car.  She died in May at age 97.  I don't know how many visits she made in the last years of her life but it was a lot.  I would estimate at least 5 or 6 times a year.  I was there with her so often that I actually came to know some of the ER nurses by name. 

I would give that particular ER a B+ in performance.  I only downgrade it from an A because of the wait time we usually endured for her to get a room in the hospital.  Other than that I felt she got excellent care.  I was aware that they were very cognizant of her age.  I couldn't tell any difference in the care she got.  If anything they were more attentive because of her age.

I think I learned two important things from all those visits.  One is that the nurses made a huge difference in both the ER and the hospital itself.  The doctors are with the patients so briefly that they can't possibly be making diagnoses and treatment by themselves and once they leave the nurses are in charge.  In my aunt's case the nurses often called doctors with reports that resulted in changes in medication and treatment.  Although there were a couple of exceptions I was impressed with their skills especially in view that most were working twelve hour shifts.  After all those ER and hospital visits I think nurses don't get the credit they should.

The other thing I've learned is that my aunt's quality of life significantly declined even as medical technology and skills prolonged her life.  That fact makes me think that prolonging life isn't necessarily a good thing.  No, I'm not advocating euthanasia.  And I'm not saying we should withhold treatment or medication.  I'm simply saying that observing my aunt's situation over the last ten years was enlightening to me.  She had some fear of dying.  It was noticeable if you knew her.  But she also had had a very active and fulfilling life and her age had changed that situation to the point she was no longer happy with her life.  It was a dilemma for her and I could see that.  It has left me thinking about it.  I realize that it isn't in my control but I don't want to be in that same situation.

Sometimes I find myself reflecting on odd things that I do. 

Yesterday something triggered me to think about parallel parking.  Specifically parallel parking in Savannah.  On our recent trip to Hilton Head we drove to Savannah for dinner and I parallel parked in a tight spot right in front of the restaurant.  It was an ideal parking place because the streets and lots were full.  In addition there was a line of traffic behind me.  But the space was small.  In other words the pressure was on to do the job successfully and quickly.  And I did so.  First try.  No problem.  I didn't choke. 

On reflection the remarkable thing about that is that I did it in an unfamiliar car.  It was my mother-in-law's car and it's a full-size sedan.  It's a big car.  I remember what I was thinking about as I made the attempt.  I was thinking that I shouldn't think about what I was trying to do.  I should just react and do what I thought needed to be done.  No paralysis by analysis.  And it worked.  Perfectly.  If you're a golfer you know exactly what I'm talking about.  Sometimes we let our powerful brain overcome itself. 

I knew I had read an excellent article about this concept somewhere.  Today I found it again.  This guy says it better than I can.  He nails it.  Without choking.