Deep Thoughts – Page 5 – lee-lawmaster.com

An Unexpected Loss

WARNING: This post will have details and images of a graphic nature.

I suffer, with countless others with an auto-immune disorder of the skin called Hidradenitis Suppurativa. This condition normally shows itself when a person enters puberty. It is passed to a person when one of their parents is a carrier. There are varying stages, but this condition never truly gets better. It’s more about mitigation.

At the time in the world when I was becoming an adult, my case of this was only getting worse. I was going to the ED at least once a month in unbearable pain. My own doctors could not figure out what was causing these painful boils that would appear and grow. They called them carbuncles.

This was when I was placed into a trap. The doctors didn’t know what to do and they couldn’t resolve my issues. This is when I was prescribed large amounts of opioid based pain medicines as if they were candy. It was common for me to have 500 pills on hand at a time. The medication didn’t resolve my issues; or relieve my pain however. It only put me in a state of intoxication. This was not how I wanted to live my life.

This was long before social media, I think even WebMD was fairly new at the time. It was hard to find answers on medical issues that were not mainstream. Almost impossible when there was no clear answer as to just what that issue was.

Insert the woman who I came to call Princess Patti. I first found her through a blog she wrote. In it she explained this health disorder and screams of “me too” rang out in my head. She sold little pins that said “HS” on them, and I bought one.

As social media platforms overtook the way people socialize in this world, Patti and I found each other again. She had created a group for people with this disorder, and it was then that my world was changed. I learned that I wasn’t the only one having issues receiving proper medical treatment. I discovered I wasn’t the only one who felt shameful about what this condition had done to my body, and the smells that emanated from the sores on me. I literally found an entire world filled with people JUST LIKE ME. It was liberating to say the least.

Always sweet, always loving. She was a girly girl who loved Paris, The Golden Girls, her Schnauzers and her family. Many called her mamma Patti, as she cared about them more than their own mothers did.

Over the years, she and I would become very close and then drift apart on a repeating cycle. She lived a complicated life, as did I. I had been through my discovery phase of all of this; she continued helping those just finding out, giving them the support and tools they needed to face this new world they didn’t sign up for.

HS Tattoo She Got. She was addicted to them afterwords.

Then I had a surgery to fix the scar for my Vagus Nerve Stimulator, and the world came crashing down. My case of HS (I will call it that for the rest of this post) became like a wildfire out of control. My problems were primarily located in my inner thighs but had now migrated to my underarms, almost overnight. It was devastating.

Patti had the worst case of HS I had ever seen before, and yes she shared images of her afflicted areas with me. She was able to turn her struggles and disasters into a strength for me.

Her HS had began in her vaginal/pelvic area and spread, the most common place for women to get it. At one point the doctors inserted a mesh implant; which wreaked all sorts of havoc on her. She almost lost one of her legs due to one of the surgeries she had. I don’t know if the implant or something else was the cause of, but she also had cancer at one point. That kept her from receiving many of the treatments that are now given to people – like me. She couldn’t have sexual relations like normal people do anymore, and she was constantly battling with Sepsis and other serious life threatening problems. Yet she persisted.

I was just going through our messages, and here’s one of note she said to me. “I think you’re a good man with great intentions , you’re a good person with a good heart and wants to do the right things.”

Here is the thing that troubles me however. According to the entire HS world, and a screenshot from her son (attained through a friend I met through her), she passed away due to a heart attack this week.

From her oldest son, a trusted source sent me this. I removed names to protect privacy.

I cannot find any documentation anywhere that such things are normally noted. Not the newspaper local to her area(s), nothing. While I do not doubt her son’s words, it’s hard for me to find closure. The state in which she lived has peculiar laws on public records, and I can only lend that to blame. She’s the kind of lady that I would have driven half way across the country to attend a funeral for. She made that much of a difference in my life and the life of others. I want to pay the greatest of respect to the woman she was and the woman she became. I want to show her family just how appreciative I am for sharing her with the world.

The saddest part to me is that just a couple of years ago, she was filmed for a production called “For the Hayters.” It was supposed to be on MTV, something I cannot confirm. There is a video on YouTube that I will share however. The title? “43 and Dying” It’s sad foreshadowing of what was to come that truly breaks my heart.

I honestly thought I would pass before she ever thought about going. As a community we have faced many deaths. Many suicides. There comes a point where a lot of people just cannot take the pain, take the internal torment any longer. I didn’t know any of those people; but it’s guaranteed that Patti did.

The community Patti built, the community I’m a part of is tattered and in pieces. All of our collective hearts are broken right now.

Your pain is over now, may you find some peace you weren’t able to find in this life. I will miss you forever and always, my Princess Patti.

Patricia Jane Fiore, 1975-2021.

What a Week

This week has been full of accomplishments for me as the president of The Janeway Collective.

I was working on a couple of things at the same time that came out beautifully. I will write about each one separately.

May 20th is the birthday of our namesake. A date we decided based upon a listing in the library of congress. It was one of our first points of order actually, as an “exact” date was not set in stone as it is now.

We wanted to have a celebration much like our unveiling but unfortunately were unable to; partially due to the pandemic but also due to our other goings on. But we had a couple of things in mind. To petition the City of Bloomington to declare the day Janeway Day, and to ask persons attached to the show to give the captain some birthday greetings. We accomplished that goal.

The Video

With our former “Media Director” firmly banned from the Collective, it was on me to put together an easily digestible video for our fans, and fans of the good captain. While I certainly have the skills to edit video, I have never considered myself an editor. More of a “cut and chop” guy that fixes errors or removes flaws.

When we received the first two of four videos we received; I was given inspiration by the singing of “Happy birthday.” The song has built in pauses, which give an opportunity. Everyone knows that song. To most, just a video of that would be quite boring, not entertaining. So I intertwined a portion of each clip in those pauses. Nothing fancy; but it really didn’t need to be.

I then had to do some work on our logo for the credits at the end. Our existing logo, created by the aforementioned Media Director, was only suitable for display on white/light backgrounds. I was using a black one. I knew how to invert colors in Photoshop but it became far more complex than the video editing. The red in our logo spilled over into other areas, something I still need to touch up actually. Thankfully it was not noticeable however.

We released the video on her birthday, and I felt proud. The response was overwhelmingly positive. I even sent it to the man to whom I’ve always considered the standard to be judged by with regards to video editing, Editor B.

The actress who played Captain Janeway, Kate Mulgrew liked it so much that she asked the Collective to tweet it so she could re-tweet it. I felt honored. While it wasn’t my words, or my voice, it was my work.

Without further ado, I present to you the video:

Kathryn Janeway Day

Several of us have connections to people on the Bloomington City (common) council. In early April I reached out to my friend and contact, Steve Volan about it. The council had just dealt with some heavy issues and he told me now was not a good time. To wait a few weeks and ask again. So I did.

I also found a “proclamation” template and filled it out accordingly. Steve suggested some edits; which were completely understandable and made. He said he would be in touch. I then waited; somewhat impatiently. We wanted to be able to announce this, but we had to know. We didn’t know proper procedure, and we didn’t want to do anything that would upset the city in this regard.

The night of May 19th, I watched the live stream of the city council meeting; but I did not see a word of the proclamation. My only other experience with such matters was pre-pandemic and was announced at the meeting itself. I assumed the same would happen.

The morning of May 21st, as I woke up I found an email from Steve, with a scanned PDF of the proclamation attached with an invitation to city hall to pickup a physical version.

YES! We had done it. I told Steve how appreciative I was, as he and I have had a rough personal history due to the previous annexation issue that I wrote about previously. I only hope I have continued to show him that I am his friend even if we disagree on some local political points of view.

I picked up the physical copy the same day

The Collective is going through a major stage in transformation right now, as we work on the foundation of being our own non-profit. These things are a definite boost to not just morale but goodwill.

Non-Profit Creator

That’s a line I should add to my resume. It’s not something I was ever interested in. Along with others I was a part of the creation of The Janeway Collective, and built a statue for a certain Star Trek captain.

After our unveiling on October 24th, 2020 our group was in free fall. There were several arguments that led up to that point that spilled over afterwards; ones based on items I was not involved in nor had real decision making capabilities on. Something had to be done, or this trip was over.

The Reddit contingent saw more to be done. The possibility of scholarships, to be stewards of STEAM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Arts, Mathematics). I told both of my daughters that this was a lifelong commitment. I meant that.

So I did what I do, when indecision is running rampant; and I see a clear path forward, I make that decision. Firstly, I incorporated the Janeway Collective as a non-profit. I then applied for an EIN for us. We then had to make and agree to a set of by-laws to govern our activities. Once that was complete; I applied for federal 501c3 non-profit status, which involved a $250 fee.

Then we waited, and waited some more.

The first sign of anything was a response from the IRS, asking for our income/expenses over the last 3 years. Thankfully we had that information, which I was able to provide to them. They also had a few other questions; which we were able to answer quickly.

Last Sunday night, I checked my mailbox and inside of it was a singular envelope from the IRS. IT WAS A DETERMINATION LETTER! We did it. It was a group effort, but I did a lot of the leg work needed.

I then applied and received state designation on the same day.

We are now able to give Artisan Alley our 30 days notice. While they did us a world of good when it came to raising funds, and connecting us with artists for the statue; the rest has been quite over reaching. We have been obligated to name them in anything we do, but I have not seen anything in kind done for us. It’s quite frustrating.

Financially it has been draining as well, as they have charged us a pretty steep amount, monthly for well over a year now. We don’t sell things; we aren’t in the business of “making money.” Each dollar we receive really counts. From a simple point of view, that cost has been HUGE for not much benefit received.

I’m excited for the future of The Janeway Collective. I am proud that the cornerstone of my presidency will be this. I am incredibly happy that most of the original people have stayed on. I’m also exicted about our new people; and what marks they may leave on this legacy I am happy to be a part of.

NO!

I was hoping to wake up at 7am and begin working on a test I need to update for a faculty member. My hopes were dashed, and I ended up not really getting out of bed until about 10am.

I then began my morning routine of going through all of the emails I had received overnight. When I was almost finished with that task, another email hit my inbox, from The Bloomingtonian. The City of Bloomington is beginning a retry at annexation. Sigh.

The green, purple, red, pink, yellow and orange areas are to be annexed.

Surprisingly, I guess I did not write anything on my blog about it when this originally popped up in 2017. The map above was originally a much larger area to be annexed.

I can’t say that it was due to my input, but all of the “1” areas were originally a singular area. I kept telling a friend who is on the city council that those areas needed split up, as they differ greatly. The next map produced was wildly similar than the one shown here.

During that time, he would provide me with information in confidence and I would spew it out and about, frustrating him to the point where he almost ended our friendship.

This is one area where he and I are diametrically opposed, and I failed to consider our relationship in the grand scheme of things with the words I said. I failed him, and for that I will not pester him and then blab my mouth in the clear on social media.

BUT I WILL WRITE MY OPINIONS

A button I received at the first “informational session” during the original annexation push in 2017

I feel that I must provide some history on this since I did not write about it previously.

In 2017, seemingly out of the blue the mayor of Bloomington, John Hamilton unleashed this wide plan to annex over 10,000 acres of “fringe” area into the city of Bloomington. The city hadn’t annexed anything for a period of almost 20 years, and there are certain areas that quite obviously need to be. Over that period of time the city has changed significantly, and the population has increased as well.

There were several township meetings held so the residents of these areas would have an opportunity to redress the elected officials about this. The one for Van Buren township (where I live) was quite lively. With many boos, etc, etc. It was there where I was first introduced to Geoff McKim, a county council member. I call him the “numbers guy”. He broke down what would happen fiscally if annexation went through. It wasn’t pretty.

I do not live in an area that will be annexed, but per what he said in 2017 my taxes would increase by 26% due to the loss of others on the tax roll for the county and my township.

The only play against annexation in Indiana is remonstrance, where I believe it is 63% of the property owners officially state they do not want to be annexed, it will be stopped.

Back in 2017, the city also stated that many of our township fire departments services would be essentially gutted; and people including me would have to rely upon the Bloomington Fire Department. Their closest station is almost 5 miles away. My township fire department has a station less than 2 miles away, and they have been here in under 2 minutes.

The city pulled some blows that were quite frankly below the belt back then too, as the issue of remonstrance waivers became a major issue. Many new subdivisions outside of city limits would connect to city utilities, and the city would provide it given waivers were signed for these properties. This gave the homeowners no say in the process. It essentially silenced them. This angered me, greatly.

Then it was announced that Cook would pay the city $100,000 per year in order to not be included in the area to be annexed. This made it very clear to us poor working stiffs that this was clearly about money, and a pay to play system was in place locally.

My buddy Steve was right, “All Politics is Local.”

Then, something came out of left field that shocked us all. The state added language into a bill that killed the annexation. Bloomington quickly filed suit stating the bill violated the state’s prohibition on special legislation. The city eventually won that case in the Indiana Supreme Court.

I was happy to see that play out, and work it’s way through the court system. I am no scholar on our states constitution and do not understand many of the rules and mechanisms in play for situations like these. I may be against the annexation; but I am not against our judicial system for these decisions.

So, here we are again. Four years later, a whole lot of arguing in person, online and before the highest court in the state. I don’t know what will happen, but I am still against this massive annexation plan.

The city has went on a wild spending spree, built a $25 million dollar park but still seems to need more money.

By contrast, my township recently completed construction on a new fire station at it’s secondary location. No bonds were issued, no taxes were raised. It was done through fiscal responsibility and saving funds for the expense.

I’m going to end post I’ve been working on all day long with something short, but sweet. This is an image of me in 2017, at the first informational session the city held on annexation. It was promised to be almost like a round table discussion; but it ended up being just a lot of poster boards around city hall. It felt like they were just trying to hide from those who they wanted to bring into the city to me. I proudly held that sign then, and I feel the same today.

Don’t make me bring the crazy eyes back out!

A Touch of Normalcy

Yesterday I did something I haven’t in over a year. I spent some quality time with my youngest daughter during the week. Pre-pandemic, I would get her every Wednesday. We would have a bit of a date night, and then go back to my house. It was short, but always sweet. Time I loved and appreciated.

We went to a place we used to go all the time, Steak N Shake. We both wanted to see the changes they announced. It sadly all was true. I have hundreds of photos of her at Steak N Shake over the years. I called them “Still life at Steak N Shake.” Often times showing a happy girl wearing the infamous paper hat. After yesterday, that experience is and has died.

We then went to the Hawaiian Shaved Ice place just down the road. A place I remember fondly when it was just a temporary “shack” on a trailer, a place where I first asked a girl out.

We then just drove around the big city of Bedford while waiting on her Volleyball game. She was going to play the sport last year, after her first practice everything was cancelled, it broke her heart – but she understood.

I’ve been telling and teasing her for years that her great-great grandparents are buried right next to her school and the Limestone Boys & Girls Club. Due to the family photos I’ve been going through, I was able to somewhat triangulate the exact location. I don’t even recall going to it, so I had no memory either.

Ever since her move, 30 miles away from the only place she knew of as home it’s been important to me to show her that she has roots in her new hometown. My great-grandparents are the core of our roots in Bedford, as they moved our family there in 1920, when my grandma was a baby and the last time our world was experiencing a pandemic.

The building in the upper left is the gym of the Boys & Girls club.

We then kept just driving around, experiencing things I had not seen before. Amelia was calling me a stalker, as I drove 20mph down city streets taking in the variety of home types and styles.

We then headed back to the Boys & Girls club, as she had photos to take and two games to play. This is where the stark contrast between our communities showed themselves.

Monroe county still has a mask mandate, Lawrence county however does not. When entering this secondary gym, there was a sign that said masks had to be worn inside the building – with a box of masks available. Some wore them, myself included. The vast majority did not however.

The gym where the games were played was packed, with the stands not having any room to spare. There was also a line just to get into the gym.

I was able to find a chair to sit in, off by myself. I stuck around for her first game but decided to leave at the end of it. I’m not sure if I have mask anxiety or what. What I do know however is that until we as a country are ~70% vaccinated, I will be nervous when I do not see masks outside of my own family bubble.

Oklahoma, How I Miss Thee

It’s a Monday morning, and a weird one at that. For some reason the subject of Elohim City came up. I did what I do, I started reading. I came across this post from almost 10 years ago about the place, but it did something none other have done. It explained in great detail what I love about Adair county Oklahoma.

“The western edge of the Ozarks begins here in Adair County, a sparsely populated spread of bucolic communities with a mere 22,000 residents (43 percent of whom claim Native American blood) over 577 square miles. The pastoral beauty of the majestic, unpredictable terrain stands in stark contrast to the rural poverty that plagues much of its population. Roadsides are often littered with garbage—discarded, empty cans of Busch beer, cast-off plastic grocery bags, cigarette butts—and road signs are peppered with bullet holes. Gutted shotgun shacks and ramshackle houses with landfill front yards rest precariously next to forests of resilient pines and dead, twisted post oaks. Multitudes of modest white churches adorned with hand-painted signage offer a point of communion for residents to congregate and socialize.

Underneath the surface malaise and natural wonder of Adair lies an explosive history, one that informs Elohim’s existence. This is the heart of the Cherokee Nation, the last stop on the Trail of Tears where 11,000 Cherokee Indians were forcibly relocated. The area’s history is America’s history, fraught with instances of revolt and rebellion, of fierce individualism repeatedly clashing with a government status quo. This is the territory where Cherokee general Stand Watie held out against Union troops, making him the last Confederate general to surrender at the end of the Civil War, thus ending the South’s campaign for secession. It’s the home of Ned Christie, a Keetowah Cherokee traditionalist falsely accused of killing a federal marshal. When he wouldn’t surrender, a posse of hired guns from Fort Smith pushed a burning wagon into Christie’s fortified home.

The James Gang hid out here, as did Belle Starr and her bunch, the Dalton Boys, and Charles “Pretty Boy” Floyd. In 1977, Gene Leroy Hart, a Cherokee, was accused of the brutal rape and murder of three girl scouts in Mayes County. Hart was a violent local fugitive who’d previously been convicted of raping two Tulsa women. Despite the public outcry, a Mayes County jury acquitted Hart.

Today, the Cherokee Nation is humble home to small-town Oklahomans, many of whom are largely untouched by 21st century development. The landscape is wild and primitive, and self-governance is necessary for day-to-day survival. And the area’s legacy of isolationism and individualism continues, carried on in large part by Elohim City.”

I asked my aunts about the place the last time I was out, just as this pandemic was starting. I got different answers from each of them. One said that they were “Survivalists” while the other told me “Don’t even go around there or you’ll get shot.” I cannot remember what my 3rd aunt said.

I’m still coming to grips with the fact that there is a community like this so close to the area I’ve grown up loving, the area that makes me feel free as a bird. I’m not trying to start a conversation about these issues however. I understand the separatist lifestyle, that could have been me and my family at Ruby Ridge. I guess finding out about this place was the day I that I officially grew up.

Mr. President

Something I’ve always been critical of, primarily because I’ve never felt comfortable with is leadership. I’m more of a get to work and get things done sort of guy. Handing out tasks, and delegating aren’t tools in my toolbox.

Professionally, I’m an army of one. A lone wolf in a world that praises teamwork and cooperative efforts. It’s just in my bones, and in my nature. I can only blame it on my growing up as an only child. I didn’t have others to rely upon, I just had myself.

A few months ago, I was unanimously voted to be the president of the Janeway Collective. I think primarily because I took a situation that was in free fall and brought some order to it. I officially incorporated us, and we are currently in the middle of applying for 501c3 status.

Moi, when the statue was unveiled to the world – 10/24/2020

For me, it’s not the issue of the doing, it’s the “being a leader” end. It’s my place to set goals, direct our meetings and set agendas. To me, those things are minutia of minutia.

The Collective, and the people within it are near and dear to my heart. It’s a cause I’ve always been for. I’m extremely proud to have been a part of the group that finally got it done. I’m humbled beyond belief that they all trust me to lead our starship on the journey afterwards, or to give Star Trek speak, “The Continuing Mission.”

Our little statue has become an inspiration around the world. With a group working to build one in New Orleans for Sisko, and calls for one in France for Picard.

It feels so odd to just be a part of a rag tag bunch from a “small town” in Indiana that has caused quite the global stir.

Sixty One

On this day (4/16) in 1960, in Kokomo Indiana, my mother was born. Her life was full of what I can only assume was a hard childhood. Her mother, my memaw was not married and in her later years confessed to me that she became pregnant with my mother during a tryst in a church in her hometown of Leavenworth, IN.

Soon she would have a sibling, from a different father. I know as sisters they loved each other very much, and her new stepfather legally adopted my mother, but there was something she never elaborated about that she didn’t like about him.

From the combination of things both my mom and dad said to me, my mom grew up not knowing her real father, but she eventually got to. I don’t know if she was still in high school or not, but it was around the time she was 18. The experience was not what she had hoped for it to be, she had additional 2 half sisters. In the end, my father (who had just started dating her at the time) had to drive down to Floyds Knobs to get her. According to my father, he ended up putting a bullet through his head around the time I was born.

Motherhood wasn’t something my mom was prepared for, or enjoyed. She was still trying to figure out who she was when she became my mom. They were some hard years for her, trying to find her place in this world. It’s then when I think her never ending search for a “dad” began.

My father loved my mom deeply, and wholeheartedly until the day he passed away. Unlike my own experiences in life, he was always a part of the family to which he had divorced from. Even as an adult, my dad would come over to my moms for holiday events.

My mom on the other hand, spent several years cheating on my father, going to parties and spending time with darker ends of society. I even have memories of being at these gatherings with her, drugs and alcohol on full display, sex everywhere. The TV was a tool used to distract my eyes from what was going on.

My parents eventually divorced, with my father uncommonly retaining full custody of me. My mother could have visitation with me, but often didn’t have a place for me or transportation. I don’t think she ever paid child support.

For years, my mom disappeared. She was with her new man on the run from the law. Originally they had plans to go to Washington State but the gas money ran out in Texas, and that’s where they stayed. She eventually returned in an effort to get away from him but that was only temporary. It was however a sign of life getting better, as she started the job she would hold for almost 20 years then, at General Electric.

Through no choice of my own, I was forced to live with her between sixth grade and the age of majority. They were best of times, they were the worst of times. For the most part, it was like living with a room mate. There were a couple of times where I genuinely felt like I had a mother; but I always relied upon my dad for emotional support.

She supported me financially. She gave me what I can only call a middle class life, but our family unit was definitely shattered. I would often times purchase drugs for her. She would buy me a carton of cigarettes a week. She only had 1 rule, that if I was doing something illegal – I stay put. I kept my word on that rule, as I felt that it was the single thing I could do to honor her.

My wedding, where my own parents and grandparents were married

As an adult, her life seemed to be one series of disasters after the other until a large disaster reformed her life, she was laid off. The GE factory that I had even worked at was coming to a stand still. It’s now been closed for years. Through a program they have however, she was able to essentially skip the line and get a new job at the GE Appliance Park in Louisville, Kentucky. At the start it was a little rough, but she eventually was able to buy a home! Something neither of my parents had really done, owned a home.

Then, in the spirit of Star Trek, “Shakka, the walls fell.”

She lost that job too, she had amassed a large amount of debt and had nothing else to cling to but the inheritance her own mother left her of roughly $50k in an investment account and shared ownership of her home with my aunt, a home I always adored.

Unbeknownst to her, my aunt had allowed her youngest son and his newly started family to live there. I understood and appreciated it. It was better for someone to be there than for it to be empty, abandoned. I always wanted to keep that house in the family, no matter what.

With nowhere else to turn, and nothing else to lay claim to, my mother filed a protection order on her own nephew, who is an active member of the US Army. This forced him to leave the home his own mother let him stay in, that she legally owned 50% of.

It was during this time that I was going through my own circles of hell, with a divorce under my belt, a protective order on me and pending criminal charges happening. I had just gotten the job that I still have, giving me a level of financial freedom I had never known before. A load of responsibility came along with that however.

So here she was, my mother, in my deceased memaw’s house, “cleaning” it. There is no power, there is no water – there are no utilities. She asked for my help, and I did the only thing I felt that I could. I bought her as many non perishable goods I could, and loads of bottled water. I took her out to dinner, and I filled her gas tank up. I didn’t want her to die.

It was when she asked me to buy her cigarettes that I drew the line. I had tried to get her to quit smoking and at minimum start vaping for years. It is also at this point when the physical track on my mother went cold. I only heard from her two times after that day. All other information I have is 2nd hand or from law enforcement, doing welfare checks.

I found out years later that my memaw’s home, that her and my papaw had worked many hours of overtime and put lots of blood, sweat and tears into turning into the house of this grandchild’s dreams, was sold due to being behind on property taxes. It was sold to my half-sister’s uncle. Who has now turned it into something I don’t even recognize anymore. I refuse to even drive down that stretch of road anymore. My heart can’t bare to see it. They spent their lives trying to make the lives of their descendants better; and in the end the temple to which our family celebrated many of the things families celebrate became the subject that tore ours apart. It hasn’t been the same since.

So, happy birthday mom. Your children are doing okay. You have a new grand daughter. Both of your children do love you, and we do worry about you. Your oldest grand daughter needs you back in her life, as you are the only grandparent she has left; and that has left a tremendous hole in her heart.

Investments in the Future

I’ve made some changes to my bedroom. My girlfriend had been complaining about my queen size bed, it hurt her back. It was old and it did need to be replaced. I got a deal on a nice king bed and foam mattress from Amazon and went with it.

Extreme Wide Angle: I had to put my phone on panoramic mode with it against the wall to get the entire bed

This caused a problem however, as I had less space in my bedroom. I needed new night stands. Fortunately, I know a guy and I enjoy what he does. He’s my girlfriend’s brother.

He had shown us the ones he made for himself, and I really enjoyed how they came out. Knowing him as I do, I also felt comfortable letting him have his way with any creative endeavors he wanted to have on this project. My only dictation to him, the dimensions.

He kept sending me pictures through the whole process, and got to work on them rather quickly. I was surprised really. In all reality, these tables cost me just a little more than something I would have bought; yet these are handmade and will last generations versus something I might keep for a decade and throw away.

The tables are compromised of Walnut and Cherry with traditional joinery. The only screws on it are for the table and top. Finished with wax.

A week after I got them, he sent me some messages asking how I liked them. If I wanted anything different or if I had any tweaks about them. The only real issue I can see is the size of the drawers, as they are a touch small – but okay for my use. I sent him the following image of one of them in my room. I’m a happy man.

Craftsmanship isn’t appreciated as much as it should be in our consumer centric society. When and where I can, I try to buy nice things instead of just things.

I will forever be appreciative of Tim’s talents and efforts in making these tables for me. Just as I asked him to make them, he told me that he is planning on moving clear across the country. It made me sad, as he’s a really awesome guy. Someone I strive to be like.

One of these days I’ll get around to actually working on this place, like I’ve wanted to. I have so many things I want to get done, but so little will to actually do them. It’s hard.

Orders from Headquarters

Last week I began a new adventure professionally. One I didn’t know or have a choice in participating on. I have been named the Primary IT Contact for the still under construction, Regional Academic Health Center.

The RAHC from what I have been told is being pronounced “rock” by IU Health personnel, is a joint venture between IU Health and Indiana University, my employer. It is a new hospital that is replacing the current one, which exists in a central location. It also houses a building for all of IU’s clinical education units, which I work in.

The buildings sit on the site of the old IU par 3 golf course and driving range.

This opportunity has given me no accolades, no pay raises, no appreciation. It has only given me seemingly incredulous amounts of responsibility that I did not have previously.

I have been kept in the dark on many things to do with this project. Specifically with many things that directly affect my job. To say frustrating is an understatement.

Last week, I took care of a large portion of my newfound responsibility by configuring the computers in each of the general classrooms, sans one of them. I made a friend, who seemed saddened by how disturbed the landscape was changed.

The the task was easy, just overwhelming. Put a new operating system on roughly 20 computers while learning a new building and the technologies put into the building that I had never worked with, or had an opportunity to know about.

Classroom technology control panel, there are quite a few flaws

That panel gives me some anger. IU is full of red tape and bureaucracy, much like a government is. The official building code for this building is AH, not RAHC. I’m a stickler for detail. I have requested that be changed.

This screen almost threw me into a seizure

IU Health, is not IU. But this partnership and what is in essence “licensing deal” has blurred the lines for many across the state. There are many who think they are one in the same. It frustrates me on many levels. The president of IU and the dean of the School of Medicine are on the board of IU Health, for which they both get a salary that is along the lines of the median household income level for the area. It’s through these sort of deals that have gotten us to where we are today.

This week, I will have to configure the large room of our building. It can be split into four different rooms and has up to sixteen different configurations. All of these configurations are controlled with a touch panel mounted to a rack in what will eventually be my office.

I’m not a fan of that space as my office, as it offers no security. Others will need access for the functions of that room. I have spoken with the building manager, and there are other spaces that I will be able to utilize that foot the bill.

The largest thing lingering in my mind at this point is how I will handle all of the responsibilities given to me on this building, with all of the other responsibilities I have still in the other buildings I support on campus? All signs point to hiring an assistant in my eyes. My management says “ticket numbers will tell us if you need one.” It’s hard to make numbers when you are spending half of your days driving between buildings however.

Onward and upward? Meh.