Too big for Twitter

This thought was too big for Twitter:

No matter what politics you favor,
no matter the color of your skin,
no matter which religion you practice,
if you live in the USA, then you owe the country's veterans a debt of gratitude.

It is because of their service and sacrifice that you have freedom.

Freedom to choose your politics.
Freedom to practice your choice of religion.
Freedom to speak your mind.

Thank a veteran ... not just today, but every day ... for the freedoms they have ensured you possess.

Hmmm . . . what happened to the last seven years? (Sidenote: Who knew that Blogger would keep your account on life support for that long if you didn't post any updates or log-in?!?)   Let's see:

Upgraded from a condo to a house with a yard (to which the dog said "thank you.") Switch jobs from working in the ski industry to getting a "real job with a real paycheck" (see item #3 for more background information). Became a father of two beautiful daughters who will be the death of me during their teen years. Gained weight. Celebrated a decade of marriage to a wonderful woman. Passed by "middle age" with a hockey injury that required surgery.

My how time flies! And it seems to have accelerated since the kids arrived.

I have a parental theory: Children are nature's time machine for parents. In one instance, they can make you feel very old; and in another instance, they can transport your mind back to when you were their age.

Addicted?

I have come to the recent realization that I very well may be an addict. I am constantly distracted and can't seem to focus. The mere thought of it increases my pulse rate. When thinking of it, I can't keep the goofy grin off my face. And when I talk about it, I can't help raising my voice while getting animated and agitated. Yep, I'm an addict.

Luckily, I'm not addicted to drugs; I'm simply addicted to duck hunting. That's right...duck hunting.

The calm and quiet of the wee early morning hours, watching the sun rise above the marsh, and enjoying conversation with an old friend(s) while enjoying a hot cup of coffee in the blind. It's all just the pre-cursor.

Once you hear whistling wings above you, your pulse rate shifts into overdrive. Now is the time to put the call to work and see if those countless hours of practice have paid off. If you're lucky, they will circle back to give your decoy spread another look. With wings set and landing gear down it is time to test your other skills.

Novice hunters or people who have never taken to the field think shooting ducks is an easy task. Those of us who have had a flock of teal pull their landing gear back up while performing evasive maneuvers, we know the truth. It can be a lot harder than you think.

But the flood of joy that comes with putting down a duck and having your dog retrieve the prize is something that can't be put into words. I would bet it is every bit as good as the best drug on the street. But I wouldn't know anything about drugs; I'm too busy hunting.

Fireworks Post Script

As implied in the original "Fireworks" posting, injuring yourself with fireworks is in my humble opinion a clear indicator of a lacking in common sense. And who knew that my posting would spark outrage and a cry for a correction/confession? And even better still, who knew that the outrage and demand would come from my own family members who had injured themselves with fireworks?!?

Yes, that's right. My own sister and cousin were preturbed that I did not mention in my original post that I had witnessed first-hand such a lack of common sense. Actually, I think they were more preturbed that I didn't simply mention the story.

You see...when she was young, my sister lit a firework and was about to throw it to keep it from exploding in her hand. Prior to ditching the pyrotechnic, my cousin yelled "Wait for me to light mine." My sister's claim is that she didn't realize the firework would not "wait" for my cousin to light hers. (I never understood this line of reasoning since I am the younger brother, and even I understood that the burning fuse would not "wait" for anything.)

Long story short, or at least shorter, my sister had the firework explode in her hand while she was holding it near her head (another point of this story that I have never understood since I knew it wasn't a good idea to hold a burning firework near your head at the time of the incident).

Luckily, my sister was not permanently damaged. How do I know she wasn't permanently damaged? She went on to prove it by becoming a better musician of several instruments than I could ever hope to be. She also went on to win several spelling contests and graduated with higher GPA's proving that she is much smarter than I am. However, I think I still have her beaten when it comes to common sense.

Fireworks

As we approach the 4th of July Holiday, I wonder how many emergency rooms will be filled with fireworks related injuries.

Don't get me wrong; I am not against fireworks. In fact, I spent the better part of my childhood growing up in Small-Town, USA, trying to figure out ways to combine fireworks to make them better or more spectacular, or what I could attach them to that would create a cinematic-esque explosion. (Like attaching rockets to model airplanes, which simply served to prove that some airplanes are not built for speed.)

Nonetheless, it seems after every 4th of July the media floods the minds of the public with the dangers and horrors associated with fireworks. I think a good dose of common sense and a healthy respect for things that explode are really all that is necessary to avoid injury.

So enjoy your 4th of July and celebrate America's independence. BBQ and blow things up. Just don't be stupid while doing it.