It was a most excellent Thanksgiving. Our feast and celebreation were hosted by our local son and daughter-in-law in Hurst. Due to his work shifts and other schedule conflicts, the traditional meal was an early evening affair, opened with a Psalm reading and a time of each person present giving thanks for something most special to them. Her parents were also present, along with all of our family, all the kids and grandkids. Above is a picture of the entire Bennett tribe on the thankful occassion. I cannot imagine a more perfect Thanksgiving evening with the food, fellowship, football and thanks. Hope yours was well, too.
Friday, November 23, 2007
A Most Excellent Thanksgiving
November 23, 2007
It was a most excellent Thanksgiving. Our feast and celebreation were hosted by our local son and daughter-in-law in Hurst. Due to his work shifts and other schedule conflicts, the traditional meal was an early evening affair, opened with a Psalm reading and a time of each person present giving thanks for something most special to them. Her parents were also present, along with all of our family, all the kids and grandkids. Above is a picture of the entire Bennett tribe on the thankful occassion. I cannot imagine a more perfect Thanksgiving evening with the food, fellowship, football and thanks. Hope yours was well, too.
It was a most excellent Thanksgiving. Our feast and celebreation were hosted by our local son and daughter-in-law in Hurst. Due to his work shifts and other schedule conflicts, the traditional meal was an early evening affair, opened with a Psalm reading and a time of each person present giving thanks for something most special to them. Her parents were also present, along with all of our family, all the kids and grandkids. Above is a picture of the entire Bennett tribe on the thankful occassion. I cannot imagine a more perfect Thanksgiving evening with the food, fellowship, football and thanks. Hope yours was well, too.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Sea World and San Antonio
November 21, 2007:
As my son's Sabbatical and time in Bedford draw to a close, we took the opportunity to go to San Antonio for a couple of days this early this week. The main activity was to go to Sea World on Monday, but since we had lived in San Antonio for 6 years, many years ago, we also showed the grandchildren some places where their dad had lived and played as a little boy. Included in this list was the legendary Skateboard Hill, an office parking lot near our house where I used to take the boys and Ben the Wonder Dog on Sunday afternoons (and yes, Ben-dog did skateboard down the hill, but he had to stand on his rear legs and use a skateboard with a handle). We also took in a boat tour along the River Walk, and ate an authentic Mexican dinner at an "off the beaten path" ('way off) establishment where we were the only English-speaking people on the premises (or maybe within a half-mile radius of the premises). The activities were a lot of fun. The time with our children and grandchildren was beyond words' ability to describe. Here are some Sea World pictures:
As my son's Sabbatical and time in Bedford draw to a close, we took the opportunity to go to San Antonio for a couple of days this early this week. The main activity was to go to Sea World on Monday, but since we had lived in San Antonio for 6 years, many years ago, we also showed the grandchildren some places where their dad had lived and played as a little boy. Included in this list was the legendary Skateboard Hill, an office parking lot near our house where I used to take the boys and Ben the Wonder Dog on Sunday afternoons (and yes, Ben-dog did skateboard down the hill, but he had to stand on his rear legs and use a skateboard with a handle). We also took in a boat tour along the River Walk, and ate an authentic Mexican dinner at an "off the beaten path" ('way off) establishment where we were the only English-speaking people on the premises (or maybe within a half-mile radius of the premises). The activities were a lot of fun. The time with our children and grandchildren was beyond words' ability to describe. Here are some Sea World pictures:
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Congrats to Andrew! (Hug to Emily)
November 15, 2007:
After many years of diligent study on actual college campuses, in the air obtaining a commercial pilot's license, and through course work on line, my second oldest son is completing his college education, and will graduate this December with a Bachelor of Science in Aviation Technology. Attaboy, Andrew! Last evening, my daughter-in-law gave a wonderful dinner in his honor at a fancy Italian (actually, Sardinian) restaurant in downtown Dallas. What a meal and what an evening! What an event to commemorate! Here's a picture of my daughter and me at the dinner.
After many years of diligent study on actual college campuses, in the air obtaining a commercial pilot's license, and through course work on line, my second oldest son is completing his college education, and will graduate this December with a Bachelor of Science in Aviation Technology. Attaboy, Andrew! Last evening, my daughter-in-law gave a wonderful dinner in his honor at a fancy Italian (actually, Sardinian) restaurant in downtown Dallas. What a meal and what an evening! What an event to commemorate! Here's a picture of my daughter and me at the dinner.
A Most Glorious Mess
November 15, 2007:
My oldest son is on a two month Sabbatical from his pastoral position in Peoria, Illinois, and he and his wife have chosen to spend a good portion of it here in Bedford, Texas. Although they have their own apartment locally, it still means we're getting a lot (never enough) of good visiting time over meals, drop-ins, hanging out and going places together, including some early morning swims with my son at the gym.
This also means we are having some most excellent GRANDCHILDREN time, as they also come by the house to play and hang out with Grandma and Grandpa. At the outset of this time together, Carol and I decided not to worry too much about making sure all the toys were picked up each time when it was time for the grandkids to leave - just get the big stuff cleared away, keep it down to a mild mess, not waste precious grandparent/grandchild time with cleaning up, and have toys ready to be played with when the grandchildren walked through the front door. The house has been a most glorious mess of grandchild toys, and we are loving every minute of it.
My oldest son is on a two month Sabbatical from his pastoral position in Peoria, Illinois, and he and his wife have chosen to spend a good portion of it here in Bedford, Texas. Although they have their own apartment locally, it still means we're getting a lot (never enough) of good visiting time over meals, drop-ins, hanging out and going places together, including some early morning swims with my son at the gym.
This also means we are having some most excellent GRANDCHILDREN time, as they also come by the house to play and hang out with Grandma and Grandpa. At the outset of this time together, Carol and I decided not to worry too much about making sure all the toys were picked up each time when it was time for the grandkids to leave - just get the big stuff cleared away, keep it down to a mild mess, not waste precious grandparent/grandchild time with cleaning up, and have toys ready to be played with when the grandchildren walked through the front door. The house has been a most glorious mess of grandchild toys, and we are loving every minute of it.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Memento Mori
November 7, 2007
In paintings of medieval scholars, they are often shown in their studies with a human skull on their desk. Such was the practice of the day, and the scholars would refer to the skull as their "memento mori", or their reminder of their own mortality, their death. There's no denying that cancer is a memento mori.
The type of cancer I have is like eating breakfast every morning with a ravenous wolf seated across the table from you, restrained by a chain. You sit there in the pre-dawn hours, munching on your Cheerios and staring at the wolf, who is snarling and growling, but can't get to you - for now. The two of you sit and stare at each other, and as he salivates, you know he isn't thinking about those cheery little O's of oats in your milk bowl and spoon. And there are other things you know, too...
But mementos mori (momentii mori?) are good things. Solomon was aware of this when he penned the words,
In paintings of medieval scholars, they are often shown in their studies with a human skull on their desk. Such was the practice of the day, and the scholars would refer to the skull as their "memento mori", or their reminder of their own mortality, their death. There's no denying that cancer is a memento mori.
The type of cancer I have is like eating breakfast every morning with a ravenous wolf seated across the table from you, restrained by a chain. You sit there in the pre-dawn hours, munching on your Cheerios and staring at the wolf, who is snarling and growling, but can't get to you - for now. The two of you sit and stare at each other, and as he salivates, you know he isn't thinking about those cheery little O's of oats in your milk bowl and spoon. And there are other things you know, too...
But mementos mori (momentii mori?) are good things. Solomon was aware of this when he penned the words,
It is better to go to a house of mourning
Than to go to a house of feasting,
Because that is the end of every man,
And the living takes it to heart. (Ecclesiastes 7:2)
A memento mori makes you savor every sip of coffee. For a believer in Christ, a memento mori makes every joy is that much greater, every trouble that much smaller, as you view them more through a lens of eternity. You realize that temporal things and are only temporary, and eternal things are, well, eternal. You are forced to number your days, and that should cause you to present to God a heart of wisdom.
I would not wish cancer upon anyone, not even my worst enemy, if I had one, unless it would be used by God to draw him to salvation. I do, however, hope you can find some memento mori to help you place eternity in its proper perspective (but, uh, for the record, that human skull on the desk is a pretty tacky idea).
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Walking Among the Dilberts - Daryl Goes to the ASCE
Today, I walked among the Dilberts. That is to say, I attended a professional continuing education training session provided by the American Society of Civil Engineers. It was truly like stepping into a Dilbert comic strip. As I looked around the conference center full of my colleagues, I could not help but concede that as individuals and as a group, we engineers are, well ... odd. We look odd, we walk odd, we talk odd, we dress odd, and we have bad hair. We are personality-impaired. We get nervous in extreme social situations, like being in the same room as another human being. Take a hundred or so such individuals and place them in the same location, and a pleasant outcome should not be anticipated.
When asked to introduce and tell a little something interesting about ourselves, we will face the moderator with a face devoid of expression and state our name and employer. Go ahead, moderator, strap me to the table, drip water on my forehead and put bamboo strips under my fingernails. That's all the information the Geneva Convention says I have to provide, and that's all your getting out of me.
Yet, somewhere during the breakout group technical presentation, a transformation will take place. Someone will express a sincere doubt over a value routinely used for Young's modulus. Another will share an opinion regarding the merits of the PTI method of structural slab analysis for a given situation, as opposed to the WRI method for that same situation. Soon, engineers all over the room are baring their technical souls, sharing their innermost convictions, as well uncertainties, over the vicissitudes of technical analysis. And in that moment, as they converse freely on the thoughts that they ponder in their minds, their weirdness melts away. If you could turn down the volume so that you did not know the topic being discussed, it would appear to be a scene of normal people having a passionate conversation on a topic of great conviction. The engineers appear both human and humane.
I have been told that I am just about the average age for an engineer in America, somewhere in their mid-50's, and that fewer college students are choosing engineering as a field of study. Maybe as a nation we are becoming more cool. I have also been told that over the next two or three years, as a nation, more engineers will retire from their careers than will graduate from the universities. In other words, engineers that are retiring from the market place are not being replaced. This is happening at a time when our infrastructure (roads, bridges, water and sewer systems, power grid, etc.) is not sufficient to handle our current population, let alone any increases in population, plus the insufficient infrastructure we have is worn or wearing out and needs to be replaced. Levees and bridges fail, water distribution systems in large eastern cites are centuries old. Engineers in poistions of authority who clearly state the problem are replaced by engineers who will say everything is okay, at least for a another fiscal year.
Admittedly biased, I believe that while all honorable professions make their valid contributions, societies, from antiquity, are built by engineers. My hope for our society is that the American university system will once again make engineering an intelligible field of study, and capable students will return to this field, to produce the next generation of odd Dilberts who are most content to be left alone and moil in solitude, with time standing still as they ponder and unravel some technical mystery. By God's grace, I am looking forward to tomorrow, because once again I get to go back to the ASCE conference to sit and walk among the Dilberts.
When asked to introduce and tell a little something interesting about ourselves, we will face the moderator with a face devoid of expression and state our name and employer. Go ahead, moderator, strap me to the table, drip water on my forehead and put bamboo strips under my fingernails. That's all the information the Geneva Convention says I have to provide, and that's all your getting out of me.
Yet, somewhere during the breakout group technical presentation, a transformation will take place. Someone will express a sincere doubt over a value routinely used for Young's modulus. Another will share an opinion regarding the merits of the PTI method of structural slab analysis for a given situation, as opposed to the WRI method for that same situation. Soon, engineers all over the room are baring their technical souls, sharing their innermost convictions, as well uncertainties, over the vicissitudes of technical analysis. And in that moment, as they converse freely on the thoughts that they ponder in their minds, their weirdness melts away. If you could turn down the volume so that you did not know the topic being discussed, it would appear to be a scene of normal people having a passionate conversation on a topic of great conviction. The engineers appear both human and humane.
I have been told that I am just about the average age for an engineer in America, somewhere in their mid-50's, and that fewer college students are choosing engineering as a field of study. Maybe as a nation we are becoming more cool. I have also been told that over the next two or three years, as a nation, more engineers will retire from their careers than will graduate from the universities. In other words, engineers that are retiring from the market place are not being replaced. This is happening at a time when our infrastructure (roads, bridges, water and sewer systems, power grid, etc.) is not sufficient to handle our current population, let alone any increases in population, plus the insufficient infrastructure we have is worn or wearing out and needs to be replaced. Levees and bridges fail, water distribution systems in large eastern cites are centuries old. Engineers in poistions of authority who clearly state the problem are replaced by engineers who will say everything is okay, at least for a another fiscal year.
Admittedly biased, I believe that while all honorable professions make their valid contributions, societies, from antiquity, are built by engineers. My hope for our society is that the American university system will once again make engineering an intelligible field of study, and capable students will return to this field, to produce the next generation of odd Dilberts who are most content to be left alone and moil in solitude, with time standing still as they ponder and unravel some technical mystery. By God's grace, I am looking forward to tomorrow, because once again I get to go back to the ASCE conference to sit and walk among the Dilberts.
A Summary of Life on Steroids
October 2, 2007
Note: These notes refer to closely monitored and regulated amounts of prescription medication administered under the care of a physician for the purpose of fighting cancer.
Day 1 on Steroids: Like shooting up in a rocket ship. Shooting up in a rocket ship is fun.
Note: These notes refer to closely monitored and regulated amounts of prescription medication administered under the care of a physician for the purpose of fighting cancer.
Day 1 on Steroids: Like shooting up in a rocket ship. Shooting up in a rocket ship is fun.
Days 2-4 on Steroids: Like zooming all over every place at 30,000 ft. and going 600 mph. Going 600 mph at 30,000 ft. is fun.
Day 1 off Steroids: Glide along, no problem. Did somebody hear an engine sputter, or is it just me? A little tumble begins.
Day 2 off Steroids: Tumbling down a rocky slope, banging into every major boulder on the way, yelling, "I'm all right!" (BANG) "Didn't hurt." (BOUNCE) "I'm okay." (WHAM).
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