Life – Page 2 – lee-lawmaster.com

I’m Tired Boss

I’m writing this blog post early on a Saturday morning while I give technology assistance for a series of talks being given by pediatric healthcare professionals, one of which being my own pediatrician who was also the pediatrician for my own daughters.

The first part of the week was extremely difficult on my body, still primarily in significant amounts of pain from my still not completely but partially diagnosed problem. The department I work for remodeled two office spaces. While they hired moving and setups to move the equipment out, they wanted me to move it all back. Sigh.

So I got to work on Monday, and spent most of the week ensuring it was all done. That said, in their grand plan they didn’t consider the infrastructure that was also needed to be moved during this remodel. Since I wasn’t even consulted about any of this, a new and ever increasing trend, I am going to let them lay in the bed they made. I had to run a cable across one room so a computer would have network access.

A office, created from what was open space

Then, the real bang for the week. I seem to have become a “figure” in the county’s continued fight against Annexation by the city of Bloomington, which I have written about before:
https://lee-lawmaster.com/no/
https://lee-lawmaster.com/a-nail-in-the-coffin/

My township trustee typically places her official communications to community members on the social media site NextDoor. On one post in particular, many were asking about how we can take the next (and final step) in fighting annexation, taking our case to court as we are allowed to by law. I use the word “we” metaphorically as I am not a member of any areas that are being annexed. Several asked about the creation of a go-fund-me as a common place to donate funds to hire counsel and get the process started.

This is when my “man of action” senses took over, and I made one. I then told all in that thread about it, providing them the link and told them to share. It has kind of blown up.

The township trustee said we would need a minimum of $10,000 to hire counsel, so I set the goal accordingly. I have heard from several in the business community who want to provide large donations as well. Per state law, if the case is sided for the remonstrators, they (members of the class to be annexed) can receive up to $37,500 back for legal fees.

Unaware of what attention this was getting, not seeing any mention of this on any other social media platforms, I reached out to a man I admire. He’s an amazing photojournalist and a self described pirate. He runs a respected news outlet locally that I try to support as much as possible, The Bloomingtonian. He asked for a press release and the wheels started spinning in my mind. I also had a phone conversation with the man that runs B Square Beacon. He said that he would put it in his daily release as a bullet point. I had never spoken or interacted with him before, it was kind of exciting.

I can barely write, now to write a structured document that you spread far and wide? HOW? So I reached out to a hero and friend of mine that knows a thing or two about press releases, Joe Nickell. In his very peculiar yet amazing way he gave me a 101 course on how to write one, including a couple of his own examples. I was off to the races.

Using Joe’s guidance, I wrote it and sent it to both places I previously mentioned plus the Herald Times, our “local” paper that has been taken over by a mega corp. Then I told my friend Michael Leonard about it, who runs The B-Town Bee and is a former long time columnist with the Herald Times. He said he would sic one of his journalism students on me, and HE DID. Gee, thanks there pal.

The Herald Times government reporter wanted to interview me, and before I knew it I was getting texts from an unknown number that was that journalism student. The reporter for the Herald Times said that they are putting a piece together for publication on Monday. The journalism student interviewed me as well, and introduced herself as being with the IDS (the IU Student newspaper) instead of being personal.

I have had almost daily calls with my township trustee as updates to the ongoing situation and feel as if I’ve become a central figure to this. I was just trying to help my neighbors, I love my neighbors and I love the area in which I grew up and live to this day.

I also received an odd email from a person representing a “news” site I had never heard of, The Lawrence County Zephyr. My youngest daughter, who lives in Lawrence county had never heard of it either. I sent him the press release and he published it.

The Gist of It

5 of 7 areas Bloomington wanted to annex received enough petitions for remonstrance to stop it, pending any litigation the city may file due to their believe that a state law that created an expiration date for utility waivers is unconstitutional. 2 of the areas received enough petitions for remonstrance to take their cases to court and be ruled by a judge.

Stolen from B Square Beacon and highly appreciated

State law states the court filing has to be done within 15 working days of the auditors released findings. Hence the rush. This is the only tool my neighbors in 1A have to use to stop this annexation from happening. We cannot leave 1B in the cold, and have been inclusive of them as well.

This annexation has been full of drama, with the state passing a law that was later ruled unconstitutional that stopped it for a few years. It’s also wide swathing with little promises for a big price.

Personally I call it a tax heist, as the tax rates for these areas will in some cases more than double, with those funds going to the city. My own tax rates will rise 26% per a county council member. Many question if any services the city promises will deliver will ever be delivered. This can also remove choice from the table for many people in these areas. The police department is under staffed and under paid, this will add to the stresses they are already facing, creating an even more hostile police force. The public school system that covers most of the county, MCCSC will also lose over 1 million dollars annually, at last I read.

Thankfully in the time period between when the first attempt was stopped and the second began, our township fire departments got together and created a Fire Protection District, which is protected from annexations. Originally the city was going to severely gut these fire departments, which are a staple in the communities they serve. A major factor in my choice to purchase a home where I did was it’s vicinity to a particular fire station.

It has required an increase in property taxes – but one I appreciate. Something the city does not exactly understand. They just put out bonds for millions of dollars and increase taxes on it’s residents to pay for it. Members of the city council have stated that they don’t listen to the people that elected them. I want nothing to do with the city, and showed as such during the first “informational” meeting they held. This meeting was just city hall full of signs, there was no actual meeting.

I Can Still Smell the Bowling Alley

Over the years, my stepmother has found odds and ends that were my dad’s. When she does, she lets me know about the items and asks me if I would like them. One time she found a bowling trophy, and I definitely wanted it.

While it was sitting on my couch, it fell off onto my carpeted floor for some reason and the pot metal figure broke. What do I do? The trophy wasn’t exactly important, but the information contained on it was to me. It documents a time and age that no longer exists.

I reached out to the Engraving & Stamp Center, which is the only place I know of locally that creates such items. The timing was bad unfortunately, as the COVID-19 Pandemic had just begun, and the climate was strange for just about anything.

I made an appointment, and we found a figurine that was almost identical to the original one. I was told I would get a call back when it was done, but didn’t hear anything back until yesterday.

It’s not a large trophy, my own baseball trophy is larger. It’s the words on the plate that matter more.

WESTINGHOUSE MIXED 82-83
HIGH GAME HDCP . -285
RICHARD

Westinghouse was the company my father worked for from 1969 until 1999 when they shut down. He was 6 months shy of receiving a full retirement when they closed, and spent the rest of his life trying to get “something” of those 30 years he spent there as an employee.

My maternal grandmother and grandfather worked there as well, with her retiring shortly before they closed, and he passing away on his job in 1988.

The name Westinghouse doesn’t mean much to most anymore, but it will always hold a special place in my heart. The income derived from the positions my family held with the company provided us with a decent life, a life that didn’t worry about where we would get our next meal, or if we would have a roof over our head.

Locally, they produced power distribution equipment, such as lightning arrestors.

My father has a different award regarding what they produced at the factory, this is more about the community that was found in the blue collar side of my home town.

They all had bowling leagues, softball leagues and I’m sure other sports leagues that included their own fields on company property and comradery that I haven’t experienced really. RCA and OTIS even had Christmas events for the children of employees, where each child got to meet Santa and receive a Chistmas present.

When I was 12, my mother was working for General Electric (one of the other large manufacturers in town, that I would eventually work for) and was playing in their softball league. She recruited me to help with her team. This was my first experience first hand with the social lives of the industrial workers in the area. I was told that I would be playing for the C-83 team, not knowing a thing about the organization of large industrial complexes, I took my cubs hat and took a square piece of paper that said 83, displaying C 83. We played a game against C-80 (the area of the plant where I would eventually work). It was a great time.

Sure, there are recreational sports leagues for all. There’s just something special when those leagues are with the people you work with. This is the Bloomington I grew up in. This is the Bloomington I miss. This is the Bloomington that made it a small town. This is the Bloomington that it seems to want to forget. This is the Bloomington I will never forget.

Culling of the Herd

In the past several months there have been some significant changes in management at Indiana University, my employer. Changes that are removing all of it’s appeals to persons like myself that rely upon it for their way of life.

There has been some controversy to the hiring of our new president, Pamela Whitten. As the trustees performed some questionable actions that resulted in her hiring. That said, I have no real evidence that any of these changes that from my point of view have become somewhat widespread are linked to her. They are however linked somewhere at the top tier of leadership at the university, it smells of it.

Over the soon to be six years I have been in this position, there have been ebbs and flows to my performance but it has never been in question. Not once. I am the defacto person that others across the state are told to come to if they have difficulties or questions. I have went on trips to other centers to take care of technology issues at the locations which do not have their own IT personnel.

Now however? It appears everything I do is wrong. Communications throughout the department have been cut. Instead of a casual atmosphere where we are all co-workers with our own specific roles, it is now tight lipped. You don’t know who is your friend and who is your foe.

In the last meeting I had with my director, he essentially told me to just shut up and do the job, with a very alpha like attitude. Not a way he and I’s conversations had ever been like before.

There is now an extremely paranoid level of knowing where I am between 7:30am and 4:00pm daily. To the point where I have to place such information, including doctors appointments, sick time or movements on campus on multiple locations electronically.

For the past few weeks, we have begun “stand up” meetings daily. Where each one of us have to discuss what we did yesterday, what we did today and if we have any roadblocks to being successful. For a few years, we have also had to submit a weekly report summarizing the tasks we accomplished. We also have a ticketing system that is integrated with most of the university. A replication and micromanagement that only again, wastes time in my opinion.

The advancement of hostilities towards me seems to only continue at a fever pace, as during my 1 on 1 meeting with my manager today, she had a person from HR in the meeting. This person primarily was just there, I’m not sure of the official reasoning, but it told me everything I needed to hear. Just the presence.

In this meeting, I was told that I say too much in my emails and communications with others, while at the same time being told that I don’t communicate enough. That I “have” to be available on Skype for Business, Microsoft Teams and Slack from 7:30am until 4:00pm Monday through Friday. That any and all reasons why I am not in the office needs to be on my calendar, which has to be shared or a departmental staff calendar. That I need to have “standard” hours going forward, something that has never been discussed.

With the issues in supply chain right now, receiving needed technology equipment, such as docking stations and monitors has been impossible at best. I was then told that I need to update people at minimum every two weeks on the status of this equipment. There are items I have been waiting 4 months on. To send 8 emails telling people “I don’t know when I will receive” your (insert thing here) seems to be micromanagement at it’s best.

After being informed of all of these wrongdoings that I did not have any knowledge about, my manager then asked me if I had any questions. I learned a very long time ago when HR is involved, the only play is to not play at all. They are not there for you, they are there for the company they represent. I was for the most part, silent during the entire meeting. I do not know if it was recorded or not.

Mind you, all of this is being instigated by our new Financial Director, who has only been at the job for 3 months. She speaks to my manager and director about all of this. Do they become supportive of me? No, it’s quite clear that this is information a person 1 pay grade lower is not privy to, even though it’s directly about him. It’s quite clear that my actual leadership does not care.

My manager then went on to tell me that while many people in my position feel “alone” that we are not, and then went on a diatribe about how since we are now a part of UITS we have more doors opened to us. While at the same time, urging me not to reach out to units like UIPO or UISO – which are units of UITS.

At the same point in time, I am dealing with a back injury. Something I have never had an issue with in my life. I have not been able to get proper healthcare partially due to the pandemic and partially due to my VNS implant. The stress of both of these has sent me into both physical and emotional turmoil.

I don’t know where life will lead me from here. I was in a place where I felt secure in the future. Right now I don’t know if I will have a job tomorrow.

These games that are being played on me by management and leadership are pushing me to both my emotional and physical limits.

I went to IU to get away from this. The real world treated me like this, while my time at IU has never been sunshine and roses I have never felt “less than” those I work with, those I support, those I look up to. I sure do now.

At the same time I am being inundated by emails from the university mentioning how important mental health care is while at the same time I am having my mental health destroyed by IU itself. Something has got to give. A coordinator and Associate Director has already resigned. The Associate Director a MD, told me she no longer felt as if her voice mattered.

Mine is directly under assault.

Pressure

It’s been a while since I’ve written, in this very public online journal of sorts that I’ve kept since 2006. A journal that has been the primary influence of improving my writing and reading skills beyond the rudimentary levels I was provided by my local public school system.

So much has changed since I last wrote. A disk in my back has decided to give me immense pain that only sleeping or laying in bed seems to resolve. A mountain of issues cropped up on my Jeep. My job has done a 180 on me, with two people resigning at this point, and I’ve had several computer jobs pop up on me.

Much like the Bowie song, I feel under pressure. Tremendous pressure.

Old Man Achievement Unlocked

About a month ago, while doing nothing out of the ordinary I seemed to have slipped or herniated a disk in my lower back.

Working at the school of medicine has it’s advantages, as I have a wealth of information at the ready. When this happened, I was meeting with one of my MD faculty members, assisting in the countless and newfound quirks in this new building.

After standing up from my desk, I began feeling an immense amount of pain in my lower back, of the burning kind. I continued on my way to meet with the faculty member, who noted that my back looked “too straight”. I think he was referring to my lumbar region.

The next day, the pain in my back was gone. Instead I had severe pains in my upper left thigh and hip when I put any weight on my left leg. It made me feel as if I needed a new hip. I could barely stand the pain. 2 MDs and a PHD (she writes the Anatomy text book) agreed, I had a slipped disk that was pinching a nerve. Located somewhere in the L4 or L5 region of my spine. Even sending me a handy-dandy graphic from her textbook.

I got on the horn with my primary care physician who got me in rather quickly. She prescribed me some oral steroids, and told me to call back in a week if I wasn’t feeling any better. The steroids definitely helped but the pain was not gone. I called her office after a week, and have yet to hear anything back.

On the recommendation of one of my MD faculty members, I then reached out to my Neurologist. I was able to get in rather quickly by seeing their nurse practitioner. She advised physical rehab and stated that I would be contacted regarding scheduling. I have still not heard anything.

I have been using my girlfriend’s TENS unit, and she ordered an inversion table which recently arrived. They are the only things that have provided any sort of relief.

Pop Goes the Disc

Last Wednesday while at work, I stood up to go meet a faculty member for a session on familiarizing him with the new technology in our new building. That’s when it happened. My back started hurting tremendously. To the point where I laid down in the gurney that just happened to be in the classroom I was in.

For the rest of that day, it was just intense back pain. Of course it couldn’t stop there though. The next day, I began having intense pains in my left thigh whenever I would bear weight on both legs. This then proceeded to move to my hip.

Upon this movement, I reached out to my primary care physician and asked to get an appointment as soon as possible. They called me quite swiftly, and I was able to get an appointment the next Monday.

Meanwhile, I just laid around. Moving from bed to couch and vice versa. No OTC pain medications would help, so I did my best to keep from receiving the pain at all.

At my appointment, my doctor said the left side of my back was “very tight” when compared to the right. My blood pressure was through the roof too, at 150/110. She had me do bends, moving to the back or left resulted in levels of pain that I could not bear. She provided me with a prescription for steroids, and told me to call her if I was not better within a week.

Under this amount of pain, it has been impossible for me to physically go to work, I have done my best to do as many things remotely as possible. Working at a medical school, those I work for are understandable.

Here it is, late Thursday and the pain has subsided substantially. It is still there, but I no longer let out moans of pain uncontrollably when taking steps. I’m going to give it a go tomorrow and see how it goes. Right now is crunch time for me, taking a day off in August when you work in higher education is a bad thing.

The Flora Bama Run

The next day we made a run to Florida, in the section I was informed is called florabama by the locals, due to it being directly south of Alabama. It was an adventure for certain.

Our first stop was in Panama City Beach, and not for the beach. We went there to see a person I treasure, a person I look up to, a person who moved away years ago to which I said that I would see if I was ever in the area again.

We had some hiccups due to the loss of the wallet however, something they told me over the phone wouldn’t be an issue. I have to go on a bit of a rant about the hotel we stayed at before I get on with this post however.

Under any and all circumstances DO NOT stay at the Boardwalk Beach Hotel. FULL STOP. I refuse to link to it, but it is on all of the typical hotel booking sites. I only got the room because it was the cheapest one I could find, and Hotel 6 was charging $500 a night. At $390 a night, I was expecting to find some comfort after a long day on the road, but that was only after I went through their gauntlet of horrors. The line to check in was about 100 feet long, and while their convention space seemed nice, the hotel rooms were the polar opposite. The lady at the desk was extremely rude to us, giving obvious examples that she had no cares about our unique situation (my wallet being taken by an alligator). They required I provide a different credit card, even though I had already fully paid for the room with one I had lost. They then stated that I would receive a refund on my first card within 10 days. I didn’t, and reported this to both of my credit card companies – who were very displeased.

But I got to have dinner with my friend. She hadn’t seen Amelia in a few years, I had been telling her about how much she had grown, but she got to see my tales with her own eyes. I was first introduced to her by another friend who did all of the music for a movie she had just finished. Dad was still with us back then, and the local connection was invaluable to me. I thought she and dad would become instant friends, and he could be invaluable to her in her work in the visual arts.

We then tried to get some rest, all four of us in the double beds we were provided. We were unsuccessful in our quest, but arose to something beautiful the next morning.

My girlfriend finally got some beach time. I could tell she was very happy in her soul.

I chose to stay in the room while the girls went down to the beach and played in the water. Before I knew it, it was check out time and we had another place to visit before we made our way back to defend New Orleans. So I went down to the beach to collect my wayward girls, pack up and hit the road.

Before we left PCB, we had to make a few stops though. Amelia wanted to go to Ron Jons and Margaritaville to pick up some things. I only had Google Pay on my phone to purchase things – and it quit working. So it was all on Lyndsey, we walked out of Ron Jons with a $600 bill. I was shocked when I saw the receipt. Shocked I tell you. I swiftly returned snorkels that Lyndsey had picked up for the girls – they were $100 by themselves.

After a long, and arduous drive across the panhandle of Florida, we made it to our second destination, Pensacola Beach. We drove there to see Lyndsey’s half sister, whom she had never met before. I was pretty amazed at her home, on one side is the ocean and beach, on the other side is the inlet, and behind their house is a channel for boats.

We sat and talked for a while, where I just wanted to sleep. Unfortunately I didn’t get the chance to do that. Both Kira and Amelia kayaked down the channel with Lyndsey’s nephew. Amelia took some prying to do it, but eventually gave in.

We then went to the inlet, where Kira was swimming while under the watchful eye of her cousin. We stayed to watch the sunset, it was pretty breathtaking.

We then scuttled off to Peg Leg Pete’s, a beach/island bar & restaurant. It was a hit with everyone.

I attempted to drive us home, but had to give up not too long into the trip. I was just too tired to really drive. So Lyndsey took the helm, and she did it well on this trip, driving about half way to our destination and the vast majority of the way back home. I’m really proud of the abilities her new car has provided her. Driving her old car was really a strain on her body.

Overloaded

If this pandemic did anything to me professionally, it showed me and many others how important the role of technology plays in our everyday lives in this abundantly interconnected world.

Many were given the opportunity to work from home. I did too, but many times I didn’t have a choice. I had to go to the office and take care of a situation.

Now, as we are starting to see real traction on the other side of this my responsibilities have been increased. Responsibilities that sometimes cannot be managed by a single person physically, as it’s impossible to be in multiple locations at a single time. My frustrations were just below the surface until I received an email newsletter that is sent to people in my division, UITS.

This email literally is talking about me

This was how I learned of this happening. I didn’t get an email from my manager, my director didn’t send an email to the department letting them know of this. There were 0 official communications on the subject.

Roughly a year ago my manager asked me how I felt about / if I think I could manage Nursing, but later on told me that Nursing wanted to keep with their current model.

Then about a month or so ago, my printer guy who has also been the IT person for Nursing told me that there was some plan to hire him under my department as the IT person for Nursing. He said that it was all hush hush and that nothing was official yet.

When I received that email however, it threw me into a fit of rage. In the last 6 months I have been named the “Lead IT Support Person” for an entire building and now, whether they want to admit it or not I have to support the entire School of Nursing. Even if we hire that guy, if something happens – the responsibility will fall directly on my shoulders.

So I did what I’m known for. I sent a long email to my director and manager stating my issues and my concerns. I don’t think my director fully understood – but my manager did. When I was young, such things would have gotten me fired from a position, which happened to me several times. But at IU, holding truth to power is many times embraced; and I for one appreciate that.

I’m appreciative for what I have, but I have had to navigate all of this with no increases in wages. IU suspended cost of living wages last year, but they are slated to begin again this year. I’m starting to feel that I’m in a similar spot as to the one I was in around 2017, when I learned that two people who I helped hire for positions based off of mine were earning 13k more a year than I was. It felt like a slap in the face.

All of this has led to costs for me personally, as my energy levels have plummeted. A typical day for me is to go to work and then lay in bed for most of the evening when I return home. Sleeping most of that time. The most recent revelation is that I am in a lot of pain doing small tasks, such as walking to my vehicle, standing up, etc. This pain lasts for hours after the event. I do not know what is going on with me; and it is seriously scaring me. I have reached out to my physicians and hope to do something to start mitigation of this by the time we leave for our first vacation in 2 years.

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.

That Damned Jeep

While my last post was about me fixing a problem with my daily driver, another reared it’s ugly head. The starter went out.

I’m going to give a bit of a personal history of me and Jeeps, because it relates.

At the end of 2015 life was good and it was horrible at the same time. I had just divorced my wife of 11 years, but I had also just started the same job I hold today which doubled my salary, which has now essentially tripled.

Said Kia. I tinted the windows, put new shocks on it and put new speakers in it

The divorce left me with the hand-me-down Kia Rio that my now ex-wife received as a graduation present from her parents. I called it the Clown Car due to it’s small size when compared to my stature. On the way back from taking my daughters shopping for Christmas, the AC Compressor went out. This essentially killed the defrost capabilities of the car. It was the middle of winter in Indiana. I needed it fixed or I needed a different vehicle. The repair would have cost what the car was worth – and I was tired of being cramped. Enter my first Jeep, a 2010 Wrangler Unlimited Sport.

Starting it sounded a little off to me, but I bought it anyway. Then, the night before I was about to take off on a large cross country trip; while at a gas station getting fuel – it wouldn’t start. I was 30 miles away from home, with no tools, nothing. There was only 1 starter for my vehicle available in that town; and it was a mile away (I was literally right next to a parts store).

It was due to the kindness of a good samartitan who went home to get his tools; and helped me swap out wrenching duties that I was able to get that starter changed out that night.

Well, I was faced with a similar situation yesterday while leaving work. I had some things working in my favor this time however. The parking lot I was parked in is relatively flat, and I had plenty of space. I called my insurance companies road side assistance service, but hung up out of frustration; as the person on the end of the line seemed to not be able to understand or spell the word “discovery” which was the name of the road I was parked off of. I then called two towing companies, who nonchalantly said that they could handle the job, but it would be 2 hours or so until someone would get to me. So I got to pushing, almost getting it to where it could be pushed to try to start it manually.

That’s right. MANUALLY. Manual transmissions may be dying, but this is one significant advantage to them. If the starter goes out, you can roll start them. Commonly referred to as “popping the clutch,” this is where you push/pull the vehicle to a arbitrary speed, typically between 5 to 10 mph. You engage the clutch and put it in gear. You then simply release the clutch. If you have enough speed for your particular vehicle/engine – poof it will start!

With the help of the custodian (who worked with my father) and the building manager, I had enough man power to push it to a point where there is a downward slope that I was able to build up enough speed on. I then drove it to a buddy’s shop; as I was not exactly in the mood for replacing a starter.

It’s been less than 24 hours since I noticed the problem; and it’s done.