Spring Has Sprung For Now, and I Have Photos To Prove It

I experienced something very odd the other day: I tried to get the lawn mower started, and I did. First time. It took all of twenty minutes to fill the gas and oil, check the filter, connect the spark plug, and fire it up. And by fire it up, I do NOT mean it caught on fire.

This has never happened to me before.

I had the whole day blocked off to work on the mower, go get parts, call for help, and throw things. What the heck was I supposed to do with the rest of the day? And then I realized, oh, yeah: I could mow the lawn.

The latest bout of upper respiratory ick and my lack of exercise over the winter kicked my butt, and it took me two days to pick up a winter's worth of sticks and dog poop and finish mowing. But that's okay, because it meant I was outside without a winter coat and gloves (although I did wear a hoodie and jeans). Granted that this particular April has been awful, but spring still sprung, and that beats winter all over.


The lilacs, despite my best efforts for the last thirty years, survive. I love the scent of the blossoms, right up there with the smell of fresh-mowed grass. Sadly, I have to smell the mowing of others: When I mow my own, my allergies kick in and I stop smelling after a short time.

But how long the lilacs will last I don't know, because I couldn't bring myself to cut down the trees that have grown up within the lilacs. This one, I think, is a cherry tree. I think.

This one, among the other stand of lilacs, is a type of apple tree. I think. I'll keep you updated, unless they come alive and kill us in our sleep. Who knows?

There are also these little purple guys, who live in the grass alongside wild strawberries, dandelions, and other various "weeds". If it gives the bees something to keep them alive, I'm okay with that. I'm not fond of bees, but I am fond of what they produce.

If you look carefully, you can see some dandelions here, in the front yard. Oh, and the dog. He came out to watch me mow, but I really don't think he was impressed.

This is all well and good, but judging from the way this spring has sprung I should probably go make sure the snowblower still works.

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book review: Doohickey, by Pete Hautman

Ever have one of those days when everything seemed to be going your way? Nick Fashion has a beautiful fiancée, a thriving business, a fancy car ... if it had been me, I'd be terrified.

But in Doohickey, Nick stumbles unaware into Very Bad Day territory. His business burns down, his eccentric inventor grandfather dies under mysterious circumstances, and his potential father-in-law ends up being a suspicious ex-cop. In short order he's a broke, single, arson suspect with bullet holes in his car.

Pete Hautman really does, as the Bible might put it, a Job job on poor Nick. But Nick has a glimmer of hope: He inherits his grandfather's isolated desert compound, along with a brilliant invention: a kitchen doohickey that's bound to make him rich ... if he can figure out how to pay for the production, avoid being killed by an angry psycho, and not get arrested.

https://www.amazon.com/Doohickey-Novel-Pete-Hautman-ebook/dp/B003L77W32

 

Poor Nick: Every time something does go his way, it backfires. An offer of financial support from a beautiful cooking show host, for instance, angers two people Nick doesn't want to make mad: his fiancée and the aforementioned angry psycho, the host's ex-husband. It's exactly the kind of twisted complications and eccentric characters Hautman excels in. Doohickey is one of those novels in which you root for Nick to succeed, but can't help being entertained by his failures.

Sadly, it took me twelve years for me to find this book, but now that Pete Hautman is on my radar, you can be sure I'll track down some of his many other works. It's a fun read ... even if not so fun for the characters.

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I'm Not Okay, and That's Okay

 I'm not okay.

Sometimes we have to admit that to ourselves. Not to others, for attention or sympathy--but to yourself. Pretending you're okay is not okay. Being not okay is okay, which doesn't mean you should want to stay that way.

On April Fourth my teenage nephew killed himself. My post about it is here:

https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2023/04/rest-in-peace-christian.html

There, now I don't have to go through writing that again. (Meanwhile, about a week later an apartment complex in a neighboring town was shot up by a man who used to be married to my ex-wife. I never particularly cared for him, but my daughters are good friends of his kids, and they're wonderful people. This helped no one's stress level.)

Christian's. A 16 year old with a lot going for him.

I didn't see Christian as often as I would have liked, which is no one's fault but my own. Still, it hit me just as hard as my brother's death two years ago. Has it been two years? I'm not okay over that, either.

The reason I'm writing this is because my next blog--unless something else happens--will likely be another humor attempt to cheer up everyone's lives a little, as I'm wont to do. Yes, I did use that word correctly, look it up. I do this because so many of us are going through difficult times, and so many of us could use the cheering up. Making people laugh, or at least smile, lightens my own day. Since I suffer from depression and anxiety myself, what helps others helps me.

But that doesn't mean I'm all right.

Remember Robin Williams? Funniest guy alive, everything to live for. Killed himself.

Please try to remember that even if someone seems fine--even if they insist they're fine--you don't know what's going on underneath. You don't know what the person next to you is going through. Maybe they don't know. My wife always figures out I'm having a bad day before I do.

So support mental health awareness, fight the stigma, and ... laugh a lot. Keep your spirits up. Get help if needed. The world may seem a hard and depressing place, but it does you no good to dwell on it. Worst case scenario, I'll be there to make you smile, or at least try to. 

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Say happy National Public Safety Telecommunicators Week three times fast

 April has sucked royally thus far, and I haven't felt very funny (as opposed to not being funny and thinking I am). So I'm celebrating National Public Safety Telecommunicators Week the way they used to do summer television: With a re-run.)

I've been taking 911 calls for so long that they were originally 91 calls.

Well, it seems that way. It turns out National Public Safety Telecommunicators Week predates my full-time employment in the emergency services by ten years, and can we possibly shorten that name down a bit? By the time I finish saying the title, the week is over. I'm going to call it ... NPSTW. I know somebody who got their Bachelor Degree at NPSTW, although they've since married. Go Bulldogs!

Anyway, I started with the Noble County EMS as a seventeen year old trainee in late 1979, and joined our volunteer fire department on my birthday in 1980. But it wasn't until December, 1991, that I took an actual paying job in that area, as a jail officer with the Noble County Sheriff Department.

Within a few years I got tired of getting sick all the time. Seriously: Those inmates breathed so many germs on me, I thought I was in a sequel to The Andromeda Strain. So I went into dispatch, trading physical ailments for mental ones.

 

 Unknown to me, way back in 1981 Patricia Anderson, of the Contra Costa County Sheriff's Office in California, came up with this idea to give tribute to, um, NPST, or as I'm going to call them, dispatchers. Yes, I know "dispatchers" doesn't tell the whole story, but my typing fingers are tired.

I've been here--let me update--about 32 years, and dispatched for most of those. So long that when I started we had only one computer, to get information such as license plate and driver's license returns, using DOS.

Get your grandparents to explain DOS to you.

My wife points out that back then we received 911 calls by smoke signal, while carving notes onto stone tablets. I'm fairly sure she was kidding.

I've been here so long I could retire. Full retirement pay! Sadly, I haven't figured out how to make up  for insurance and the difference in income, but I'm hoping my book sales will pick up. (Note: They have, but not enough.) Also, it would be tough learning to sleep through the night.

Things really were easier back then, when it comes to learning the job. Our computer systems do make it easier to help people these days, but astronauts don't train as much as our rookies do. Spaceship vehicle pursuits are faster, though. The truth is, I'm not sure I could make it through training, if I started today.

Instead of one small computer screen,  I'm looking at seven flat screen monitors, not including the security and weather screens. Our report was written (in pen) on a piece of paper about half the size of a standard sheet. Today we have a Computer Aided Dispatch (CAD), radio screen, phone screen, mapping screen, recorder screen, 911 texting screen, and a screen to keep track of everyone's duty status. We also have a screen to keep track of screens. Those are just the ones we use regularly.

I found this waiting for me when I got into work Monday. They get me.

 

 

I'm pretty burned out at this point, and some of our calls can get rough. I have all the symptoms of PTSD; some of them include:

Experiencing a life-threatening event, like when the dispatch pop machine ran out of Mountain Dew;
Flashbacks and nightmares, such as reliving the night we ran out of Mountain Dew;
Avoidance, such as staying away from places that don't have ... well, you know.
Depression or irritability, which I just now realized might be related to consuming too much caffeine;
Chronic pain ... wow, that one hit me like a pulled back muscle.

I checked off each and every box: avoidance, numbing, flashbacks, being on edge, overeating ... HEY! Who the HECK took my meatball sub out of the break room fridge! I'm HUNGRY!

Where was I? Oh, yeah:

Why the heck am I still here?

Here's the thing. I've worked in retail; in factories; as a security guard and jail officer; as a radio DJ; I once made two bucks an hour growing worms for fishing lure. And for all the emotional turmoil, all the mental stress, all the physical ailments, all the days when I wanted to scream, and so desperately wanted to NOT go back into work the next shift ...

Dispatching is still the best full time job I've ever had.

Of course, I'm not a full time writer, yet. For that I'd only have to deal with one computer screen.

Wait, am I seriously the only male who works here? Anyway, thank you to the Town of Albion for the thank you.

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Rest In Peace, Christian

 This has been the hardest blog I've tried to write since my brother passed away two years ago. So I didn't write it. This is my sister's original post about my nephew's death:

It is with broken hearts that our family is announcing that early this morning we found our son and brother Christian had committed suicide last night/early this morning, by swallowing a massive amount of prescription pills. We had a call from one of his teachers at approximately 9am, who had been alerted by some of his classmates that he had left some posts on Instagram at around 4am. We went to check on him, and unfortunately he was already gone. The only good thing is we were told by the coroner he went peacefully in his sleep. We aren't saying suicide is the way. Just that he went peacefully. We love him with all our hearts and will always miss him. Please pray for him to be at peace in heaven with Christ. One of the last things he posted was that only Christ could save him now. You are with Christ now. Be at peace. We love you! Fly high Squirt!!!

Here's the obituary:

https://memorials.fairhavenfortwayne.com/christian-rog-ers/5170272/index.php?fbclid=IwAR2974qglEKWpPEwQzfFnBMd0LLZnZxeRRPKK0tiTwWdZU_EFgc_HdL_E7k

I think I'm having more trouble dealing with this than I did with Jeff's passing because my brother had a six decade life, while Christian's life was just beginning. Also because I DO understand, to an extent: My teenage years were more horrible than not, for a variety of reasons. That time of our life is difficult for many of us. And that's why it's all the more important that we do our best to keep this tragedy from happening to others.

There are many resources available for suicide prevention. Here are just a few of them:

www.in.gov/issp/

https://youth.gov/youth-topics/youth-suicide-prevention

https://www.healthychildren.org/English/health-issues/conditions/emotional-problems/Pages/Ten-Things-Parents-Can-Do-to-Prevent-Suicide.aspx

 

Rest in peace, Christian.

It Was a Dark and Seriously Stormy Night

 Ironically, I got busy with the weather and didn't get a new blog written--but this one's from nine years ago, and in internet terms it might as well be brand new. In reality, of course, tornadoes are horrible things, and they've especially caused a lot of havoc this year.

            I complain about winter weather a lot, so maybe it's time to complain about something else:

            Spring weather.

            Yes, spring arrived, kind of, like the proverbial lion. The last day of March brought us a tornado watch and thunderstorm warning. However, considering the blizzard warning in Minnesota and South Dakota--at the same time tornadoes raged through much of the nation--I won't complain.

 

Oh, who am I kidding?

 

In a Hoosier spring we can have a snowstorm one day, a flood the next, grass fires the day after that, and the traditional ice storm during basketball playoffs. It's actually possible to have an ice/fire tornado, if the conditions are right. I mean, wrong.

 

So it comes as no surprise that the Governor was delayed by snow drifts on his way to declare March 12 through 18 Severe Weather Preparedness Week. I’d have done it myself if security hadn’t kicked me out of his office.

            I waited to put this out until after that week, so if something horrible happened it wouldn’t seem like I was going for ironic.

            As part of the celebration … er … observation, the State of Indiana educates, conducts alert system tests, and otherwise tries to keep people from getting killed. Honestly, nothing brings down a wonderful spring day like death.

 

 

            I thought I'd help out despite the Governor's restraining order, so let me explain what watch and warning levels and storm terms are:

            A Watch means you should stay at your cookout, gaze at the blue sky and make fun of the weatherman right up until the first wind gust blows away your “kiss the cook” hat.

            A Warning means that if you haven’t sought shelter, you will die.

            A Funnel Cloud should not be mistaken for a funnel cake, which generally kills only one person at a time. Funnel clouds are just tornadoes that haven’t touched the ground; maybe they will, maybe they won’t. If you want to gamble, go to Vegas. Just to make it more fun, sometimes tornadoes reach the ground and start tearing things up even though the bottom part is still invisible. You could be looking at a “funnel cloud” right up until the moment your mobile home changes zip codes.

 

A funnel cloud. And no, I wasn't going to get any closer.

 

            A Tornado is really, really bad.

            Straight Line Winds can cause as much damage as tornadoes, but aren’t associated with rotation. You can often tell the damage path of these winds by finding people who are standing in the debris, insisting it was a tornado.

            A Squall Line is what happens when I forget my wedding anniversary.

            Thunderstorms are storms that produce thunder. See what I did, there?

            Lighting kills more people than tornadoes, but of course tornadoes are more fun … um … attention grabbing. Tornadoes are like people who get drunk and try to jump motorcycles over sheds using homemade ramps: They’re senseless, spectacular, injury rates are high, and in the end nothing good comes from them except to remind people they’re bad.

            Just the same, lightning is also no fun, and can strike miles away from where you think the storm is. Of people struck by lightning, 70% suffered serious long term effects, 10% are permanently killed, and 20% don’t admit being hurt, or didn’t hear the question.

            The average forward speed of a tornado is 30 mph, but they can travel up to 70 mph … or remain motionless, which is really unfortunate if you happen to be under one at the time.

            The average width of the funnel on the ground is about 100 yards. Think about that. And, like a flatulent Godzilla, that doesn’t include the wind damage around it. Some can get over a mile wide. (Tornadoes, I mean, not gassy Godzillas. Wow.) If you think about it, trying to outrun a 70 mph, mile wide tornado in a car is about as smart as trying to jump a shed from a homemade ramp after your tenth beer.

            Tornadoes are most likely from April to June, which means pretty much nothing these days. The last time I took an airplane flight it was delayed by a tornado—in November.

So, when do you need to prepare for severe weather? Anytime. Remember, no matter what the season, it only takes a few beers to start building a ramp.

 

Remember, every time you buy a book, Godzilla rolls over and goes back to sleep. Save Tokyo.

 

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