tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-111066492024-03-23T13:16:43.268-05:00The Quarterly Don ReportStories or updates about me that usually have no interest to anyone else. :) (And yes, they're all true.)<br><br><b>DISCLAIMER:</b> All statements and opinions are mine alone, unless otherwise noted.Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.comBlogger149125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-30428867603298395242019-05-29T12:03:00.002-05:002019-05-29T12:03:34.570-05:00June sucks!June sucks.<br />
<br />
When I say that, I am not talking about anyone named June. I am talking about the month of June. And you may be asking yourself, "Why do you hate an arbitrary moment in time?" That's a very good question. June has many good qualities. It is a summer month, the weather is nice, swimming pools are open, the kids are out of school. Ok, maybe the parents aren't so fond of that last one. June is also a fairly common month for weddings. Some people might even think that's a good thing, too.<br />
<br />
But still, June sucks. June 24th, 1999. Thursday afternoon. While I'm at work I get a phone call from my sister, which never happens. She says, "Mom's had a stroke, she probably won't make it through the night. Come home now." So I do. After a small delay to change a flat tire on my week-old car on the side of I35 in downtown Dallas I arrive at the hospital late in the evening. (By the way, it's super exciting to change a tire on the side of the highway during rush hour traffic with cars whizzing by at 80+ MPH.)<br />
<br />
Mom suffered severe neurological damage from her stroke, had no neurological activity, and never regained consciousness. Two days later on June 26th we elected to take her off life support, and she passed away.<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
In May of 2015, just a week or so after his 80th birthday, my dad had a heart attack. He made it to the hospital and survived. He had a lot of blockage, so a few days later the doctors performed bypass surgery. It was a very difficult surgery. (Afterward, the surgeon told the family, "Your dad's heart was very angry with us.")<br />
<br />
While this was going on I stayed in Austin. In my mind the last time all of us got together with a loved one in the hospital that person died, so if I stayed home everything would be OK. It was not. While recovering from bypass surgery dad suffered a pulmonary embolism and died on June 3rd.<br />
<br />
June 3rd. That date will come up again.<br />
<br />
For my brother Richard we're going to go back a little in time. Richard started drinking and smoking (cigarettes and pot) in his early teens. He went to county jail many times for drunk driving and went to state prison a couple of times for burglary and assault. He made a lot of bad decisions.<br />
<br />
In the late 90s Dad thought it would help if Richard moved away from his "loser friends" (Dad's words) so he moved him to Kansas, where Richard worked driving a forklift. He still had some the same bad habits (smoking and drinking), but he stayed out of trouble and worked hard.<br />
<br />
Around 2011 Richard collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital. He was in a coma for 29 days. The doctors eventually determined that his liver was failing and were able to find the treatment to get him out of the coma and stay out of it. He was placed on the transplant list, but the doctors told him that he was very low on the list, and that he probably would die before he got to the top.<br />
<br />
Things change. A few months later during a checkup the doctors found cancer on Richard's liver. His spot on the transplant list was bumped up, and within two months he received a new liver. He was still unable to work, but it was the healthiest he had been in years. Dad was spending most of his time in Kansas with Richard, making sure he took his medication and taking him to his appointments. Richard once said, "I think I'm one of the very few people whose life was <b>saved</b> by cancer."<br />
<br />
Fast forward back to 2015. Dad has just passed away. Richard was still living in Kansas. In order for my sister and incredibly handsome twin brother to help we decided to move Richard back home. At his final appointment in Kansas, in August of 2015, the doctors found cancer in his lungs.<br />
<br />
We get him back to Texas. He sees some cancer specialists, but because of his transplant his treatment options are limited. The treatments don't work. The tumors have gotten bigger.<br />
<br />
In April of 2016 he fell and broke his leg. Well, that's what we told everyone. Actually, his leg broke before he fell. The cancer had spread to his bones. He had surgery to repair the break and started physical therapy. During this time he had trouble eating and started hallucinating. The cancer had spread to his brain.<br />
<br />
I came home for a week to help take care of Richard. It had been a few months since I had seen him. Now, there have been many movies about terminally ill people. The actor will lose a dangerous amount of weight, the critics will praise their "courageous" performance, and they might even win some awards. And it's true, losing all that weight to portray someone seriously ill is not easy. Kudos to them.<br />
<br />
But it's not even close. To see the hollow shell of a loved one, a hundred pounds underweight, is devastating. So it was shocking when I came back home. It became apparent that we could not take care of him ourselves, even with the home care nurses we were using. So he was placed in hospice and eventually a nursing home for 24 hour care. He passed away on May 31. His funeral was exactly one year after our dad died. June 3rd.<br />
<br />
June sucks.<br />
<br />
Anyone who has ever met me, or follows me on social media, or has come in contact with me at any point in their life knows that my favorite day of the year is my birthday. I announce "only 6 months until my birthday" or "only 1 month until my birthday" with the added tag: Shop early, shop often. (It's October 7th, by the way.)<br />
<br />
I have other favorite days. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter. But I recently added a new favorite day: July 1st. For the past few years when I pray during the month of June I say, "Please don't let any of my immediate family members die during the month of June." So when July 1st rolls around I breathe a sigh of relief and say, "Thank you."<br />
<br />
Most people have heard about the 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These stages are a framework for grief, but they aren't set in stone. People may go through them in a different order, or they might only go through a couple of them. Others might go through more than these five.<br />
<br />
I'm going to focus on the last two. Depression is the phase most people associate with grief. The earlier ones tend to be shorter, while the depression phase could last many years. When people think of depression they usually think of the extreme cases, like debilitating sadness and suicide. But depression has a wide spectrum of behaviors, such as withdrawal from society, lethargy, weight gain. Routine helps, such as going to work or church, or friends checking in. People may also need counseling or self-help groups to get through this phase.<br />
<br />
The final stage is acceptance. Here's is what grief.com says about acceptance.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Acceptance is often confused with the notion of being “all right” or “OK” with what has happened. This is not the case. Most people don’t ever feel OK or all right about the loss of a loved one. This stage is about accepting the reality that our loved one is physically gone and recognizing that this new reality is the permanent reality. We will never like this reality or make it OK, but eventually we accept it. We learn to live with it. It is the new norm with which we must learn to live. We must try to live now in a world where our loved one is missing. In resisting this new norm, at first many people want to maintain life as it was before a loved one died. In time, through bits and pieces of acceptance, however, we see that we cannot maintain the past intact. It has been forever changed and we must readjust. We must learn to reorganize roles, re-assign them to others or take them on ourselves. Finding acceptance may be just having more good days than bad ones. As we begin to live again and enjoy our life, we often feel that in doing so, we are betraying our loved one. We can never replace what has been lost, but we can make new connections, new meaningful relationships, new inter-dependencies. Instead of denying our feelings, we listen to our needs; we move, we change, we grow, we evolve. We may start to reach out to others and become involved in their lives. We invest in our friendships and in our relationship with ourselves. We begin to live again, but we cannot do so until we have given grief its time.</blockquote>
<br />
You never move on from grief. You just move forward. That might seem sad, but pain is a part of life in this world. We can't control the world around us. As it said above we might still have bad days. In 2011, twelve years after my mom had passed away, I was watching the Footloose remake with my girlfriend. The main character has to move in with relatives because his single mother has passed away. Early in the movie there is a discussion about the mother, and I started crying in the theater. I wasn't loudly sobbing, but I kept having to wipe the tears off my face. My girlfriend kept asking if I was OK. After the movie I explained what was going on. She's an ex-girlfriend now, but it had nothing to do with the crying. Probably.<br />
<br />
Everyone (who isn't a sociopath) grieves. My dad, who never cried at any other time in his life, cried at mom's funeral. Even Jesus grieved. In John 11:35 it says, "Jesus wept." While this verse is a favorite for people to memorize because it's only two words, it's important to note why He wept. Jesus wept because Lazarus has died.<br />
<br />
But why did He weep? He knew what was going to happen next. He knew Lazarus was going to be raised back to life. Jesus wept because he was grieving. He sympathized and empathized with the grieving family. And just because you know how the story ends doesn't mean you can't cry at the sad parts.<br />
<br />
So yes, June still sucks. Most days are good, but there are still some bad ones. But July 1st always comes around. And I know how the story ends.Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00114809468217149292noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-42890236753244560922015-06-12T20:20:00.001-05:002015-06-12T20:30:41.394-05:00Yes, I really am that smoothOn occasion I have been known to stick my foot in my mouth, so to speak, as has been demonstrated in several blog posts. Here's one more ...<br />
<br />
In my late teens I went on a few dates with a girl named Kim. Since I was away at college most of the year it didn't progress much further than that. After that she started dating another gentleman, and she later got pregnant. I had heard that they were thinking about getting married, but not until after the baby was born.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to the next summer. My incredibly handsome twin brother Ron and I were walking in the mall (kids, ask your parents), and we saw Kim. Here's how part of the conversation went:<br />
<br />
<b>Me: </b>When did you have the baby?<br />
<b>Kim: </b>I had a miscarriage.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Oh, I'm so sorry. Did you and your boyfriend get married?<br />
<b>Kim: </b>No, he dumped me right after.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Are there any other questions I can ask to pour salt in your wounds?<br />
<br />
After we walked away my brother said, "Well, that went well. At least you didn't ask her out."<br />
<br />
I replied, "Yeah, I thought I would wait a couple of weeks for that."Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00114809468217149292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-71998391507059165412014-12-30T21:30:00.000-06:002014-12-30T21:38:35.393-06:00It was funny to meSurprisingly enough, not everyone finds me funny. (Ok, it's not that surprising.) My sense of humor is sophomoric and sarcastic, bordering on obnoxious, and it makes frequent trips across that border. Many times, after making a joke that bombs, I have to add, <i>"Oh well, it was funny to me."</i><br />
<br />
You may ask, <i>"Do you have any examples?"</i> And if you didn't, I'm going to give a couple anyway.<br />
<br />
I am an adult in my 40s, and fart jokes still make me laugh. The other day I watched the movie Blazing Saddles for the first time in several years, and I was surprised at how loudly I laughed during the campfire scene.<br />
<br />
<i>"I'd say you've had enough!"</i><br />
<br />
Ok, maybe not that surprised.<br />
<br />
And to this day I can't watch a Ford truck commercial without giggling like a schoolgirl every time they say "super duty." (I even laughed when I typed it.)<br />
<br />
<i>"Ok Don, those were some nice examples of juvenile humor, but what about obnoxious?"</i><br />
<br />
There are far too many examples of my obnoxious humor, so I'll use a recent example. In my church choir, I sit next to a blind gentleman whose name starts with the letter Earl. Earl is a wonderful man, upbeat, always with a smile on his face. And he is always dressed very well on Sunday mornings.<br />
<br />
At the church we have several screens that are used to display the lyrics of the songs being sung, for video presentations, or to display various messages. One such message welcomes people to the church and contains a montage of photos of church members taken during various activities.<br />
<br />
One of those pictures is of Earl, nicely dressed, singing in the choir, looking very dapper. It is a beautiful picture. And since he didn't know about it (you know, being blind and all) I thought I'd be nice and tell him about it.<br />
<br />
I said, <i>"Hey Earl, on the screen is a welcome message with a montage of photos, and one of them is of you, singing in the choir."</i><br />
<br />
Earl responded, <i>"Really?"</i><br />
<br />
I added, <i>"Yeah, and you look terrible!"</i><br />
<br />
[...]<br />
<br />
Oh well, it was funny to me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>POSTLOGUE:</b> Yes, I told him I was kidding.Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00114809468217149292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-44006789643742283892012-12-03T20:30:00.000-06:002012-12-03T20:33:35.349-06:00It's the only possible explanation<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">Over the past few years cycling has become my primary method of exercise. It's not nearly as hard on my knees and feet as running, and it's something I can do on my own. And most of my rides are not on roads with a lot of traffic, so it provides some level of peace and quiet.<br />
<br />
Now, I still like playing in team sports like softball and basketball, but neither of them provides much of a cardiovascular workout. And they are definitely much harder on the knees and feet than cycling.<br />
<br />
When I do my road rides I usually do long distances at moderate (AKA slow) speeds. (I save the faster speeds for my shorter trail rides.) Typically, the shortest road ride I do is 40 miles. When I'm on these rides I pass other riders occasionally, but I get passed a lot more often.<br />
<br />
I've been passed by men and women, younger and older, people in much better shape, and people who could stand to lose a pound or two (or thirty). On one ride I was even passed by a man in his 60's who had three broken ribs.<br />
<br />
I've been passed by people on bikes costing several thousand dollars and others on bikes they got at Target. I've even been passed by someone riding a bike that had fenders and a basket. Thankfully, they didn't have streamers on the handlebar.<br />
<br />
I've thought about why I get passed so often. I thought perhaps it's because I'm doing such long distances and need to pace myself, or that I'm trying to maintain a moderately high heart rate for a long duration. Perhaps I'm just enjoying the time outside, and I'm in no hurry to finish.<br />
<br />
But, after much thought I finally came to the only real possible explanation for me being passed by all these other riders.<br />
<br />
Obviously, they are all using performance-enhancing drugs.<br />
<br />
Obviously.<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00114809468217149292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-11483933772746048512012-09-04T22:25:00.000-05:002014-12-26T15:15:26.232-06:00I'm more of a horrible warning<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">In February of 1992 I was transferred to Austin by IBM. I didn't know anyone outside of work and had a lot of free time, so I decided to do some volunteer work. In August of that same year I joined <a href="http://www.bigmentoring.org/">Big Brothers/Big Sisters</a>. I was matched with Chris, a 10 year old boy who lived with his mom in south Austin.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJNriBGQAAkljqYgFtoeLk5r5xGMIvJxRs1PmDGBGEk8Tg9D6e43laFZLRPCFRNqOxbX2JAMLgHN3i-xtSrqkAmPcZ_jcn2J8_-bpV_2Ni7UdziLMNRAdyt-t1REUok8Qz71Fqg/s320/don_chris_christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJNriBGQAAkljqYgFtoeLk5r5xGMIvJxRs1PmDGBGEk8Tg9D6e43laFZLRPCFRNqOxbX2JAMLgHN3i-xtSrqkAmPcZ_jcn2J8_-bpV_2Ni7UdziLMNRAdyt-t1REUok8Qz71Fqg/s320/don_chris_christmas_med.jpg" /></a></div>Chris and I tried to do something every week. We played laser tag (and made a <a href="http://donreport.blogspot.com/2005/03/do-i-have-to-play.html">little girl cry</a>). We bowled. Terribly. We played football and basketball. We watched movies. We went roller skating. (Or in my case, roller falling.) We went sailing. We went camping. And we once got "lectured" by an employee at the Austin Children's Museum for knocking over several stacks of building blocks. (It should be noted that we were the ones who stacked the blocks in the first place.)<br />
<br />
I watched his middle school football games, I taught him how to drive a manual transmission, I went to his high school graduation.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://donyoung.us/images/don_chris_wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2sJIYcKrjnMzDDcWuK713xpZK3kh8q2jCn5QEx2UE1SCONcxidc5-2vcOavLX5BvB12bQm3-8aQSsK-KJdbiXYzV1-L2hFDVp-1WLGCEeveVGNw-4iTYPSJyt01Wp8Hg_U7KZg/s320/don_chris_wedding_med.jpg" /></a></div>And last weekend, I flew to Colorado to attend his wedding.<br />
<br />
We haven't seen each other in a few years, and the event was a couple of states away, but I wouldn't have dared to miss it. Chris and his bride Sierra had a beautiful wedding, surrounded by their friends and family. It was an honor to be invited.<br />
<br />
As I watched the ceremony, I reflected on our match. Chris was always a good kid, didn't get into a lot of trouble (despite my best efforts), studied a little here and there, was friendly and gregarious. And he's turned into a fine young man.<br />
<br />
He also taught me patience and how much I enjoy working with kids. It's because of our match that I went on to coach sixteen seasons of youth soccer and three seasons of youth basketball (so far).<br />
<br />
His mom once asked me if I considered myself a role model. I joked at the time, "No, I'm more of a horrible warning."<br />
<br />
And if she asked me that question today my answer would still be no. All I had to do was spend time with a good kid.<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-70981921129710530042012-07-25T19:35:00.000-05:002012-07-25T19:35:51.383-05:00That's the first good call you've made all game!<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Growing up I played a lot of sports. I wasn't necessarily any good at any of them, but I played. Sometimes. :) And with all the sports I played in my youth my parents made it to almost every game. There were times when they couldn't miss work, especially with the occasional 10:00 AM basketball game during the week, but those were rare. Bottom line, they supported all of their kids in all of their activities.<br />
<br />
But sometimes Dad was a little too enthusiastic with his support.<br />
<br />
My sophomore year in high school I played on the junior varsity basketball team. Well, I didn't really play that much, but - as I've said about other sports - I was part of the 20/20 club: late in the game, if we were up by 20 or down by 20, I got to go in.<br />
<br />
One game, we were playing a rival school in their gym. Varsity games required UIL-sanctioned referees, but JV games didn't have that requirement. So, the opposing team's Jr. High coaches were refereeing the game.<br />
<br />
And the game wasn't exactly called fairly. There were times when our players were being punched and no fouls were called. However, if one of our players even looked at one their player cross-eyed a foul was called.<br />
<br />
My dad likes to yell. Especially at sporting events. He doesn't usually yell at the players, especially if they're kids, but he will yell at an umpire or referee. A lot. During this game, Dad voiced his displeasure, loudly and with much cursing.<br />
<br />
At which point, the ref called a technical foul on my dad, the spectator.<br />
<br />
Dad yelled down at the ref, "That's the first <i>bleeping</i> good call you've made all <i>bleeping</i> game!"<br />
<br />
And he got a second technical foul.<br />
<br />
Our coach then started yelling, got three technical fouls called on him, and was ejected from the game. And out of concern for our safety he took the team with him. We hadn't even made it to halftime.<br />
<br />
As the team was riding back home on the bus, I thought about the game and came to this conclusion:<br />
<br />
That really was the first good call they had made all game.<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-10960641887185153332012-04-14T17:35:00.002-05:002012-04-14T17:36:22.279-05:00I gave her a C-<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://donyoung.us/images/letter_box_med.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="120" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsSp-yWnV2OkwoTq5eJNFki-8oGukob36jrV6INOdZlGJQ1XkKOkpihaXlS5DQMCDzqwNBKdUom_L1esnNfeu_cL8_yqk03wvoGjMFvbw07bQ04fu9_DHgJRxfkvzYo8zUU6_wg/s320/letter_box_med.jpg" /></a></div>Back before the internet, e-mail, unlimited long distance, and text messages people used to write letters. By hand. And I still have every letter ever written to me (and to me and my incredibly handsome twin brother Ron).<br />
<br />
Except two.<br />
<br />
One of them was a "Dear John" letter I received from a girl I was dating while I was in college. She lived back home so maintaining a long distance relationship wasn't easy in the time before instant communication (that was free). I wasn't that surprised by the letter, but it wasn't anything I wanted to be reminded of, so I threw that one away.<br />
<br />
The second letter was from a friend I met on a cruise in the mid-90's, who I will call Meagan. I was on the cruise with a couple of buddies, and she was there with some friends of hers. She had a boyfriend back home, but he was unable to come on the cruise. Her group and my group were pretty much the only ones our age that weren't married, so all of us spent a lot of time together during the week-long cruise.<br />
<br />
A few months after the cruise was over I got a birthday card from Meagan. (October 7th. Shop early, shop often.) She wrote a very sweet message inside. It was nothing other than friendly, so I mentioned it to one of her friends (who I also remained friends with after the cruise).<br />
<br />
A few weeks later I got an angry letter from Meagan. She was very upset that I had told other people about the card, said some mean things about my character, and told me to never speak to her again.<br />
<br />
I was confused. I didn't think there was anything private in that birthday message, so I thought there might be more to her anger than what was mentioned in the letter. A mature person would have contacted her to find out the real reason for the anger, resolve the issue, and maintain our friendship.<br />
<br />
I was not that person.<br />
<br />
Instead, I took the letter she had written me, and I circled all of the spelling and grammar errors, added some notes in the margin, graded it, and mailed it back to her. I had no idea if she was going to read it or even open it, but I mailed it anyway.<br />
<br />
What grade did I give her? I gave her a C-.<br />
<br />
<b>EPILOGUE:</b> Ten years ago I decided to track down a few people I had wronged over the years and apologize, and Meagan was one of those people. She responded, explaining what really had upset her back then, and it wasn't the letter. In fact, it had more to do with something outside of our friendship. And for the past ten years she has been one of my dearest friends.<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-39742312426357127132012-04-08T16:30:00.000-05:002012-04-08T16:30:51.532-05:00The sweet sound of grace<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">John Newton was a wretched man. He was born in Britain in the 1700's. His mother died just before he turned 7, and he later joined his father at sea at the age of 11. After his father retired, he began sailing with a merchant ship. He was later pressed into service for the Royal Navy, was caught attempting to desert and was flogged in front of the crew. He later transferred to a slave ship bound for West Africa.<br>
<br>While on the slave ship, John was such a problem for the crew that they left him in West Africa with a slave dealer. The dealer gave him to his wife, who abused and mistreated him along with her other slaves. He was later rescued by a sea captain sent by John's father to find him.<br>
<br>John Newton was a wretched man. But while sailing back to England, his spiritual conversion began when the ship he was sailing on was miraculously saved from sinking after he called out to God. Although he began reading the Bible and avoided gambling and profanity, it took several years before he finally renounced the slave trade and apologized for being an active instrument in that business.<br>
<br>He later became an evangelical lay minister, and he was eventually ordained as a priest. He was a popular speaker and was sought out for advice by young churchmen on religious matters. While serving in Olney he wrote several hymns that were later published. One hymn, "Faith's Review and Expectation" as it was called at the time, began with this familiar line:<br>
<br><i>Amazing grace, how sweet the sound<br>That saved a wretch like me.</i><br>
<br>John Newton was a wretched man. But despite the wickedness of his youth, he was saved by God's amazing grace. He knew the depths he had sunk, and he knew the gift of that grace. He didn't write that it saved a wretch like you. He wrote that it saved a wretch like him.<br>
<br>"Amazing Grace" became one of the most recognizable songs in the English-speaking world, performed in one form or another an estimated 10 million times each year. And each time it is performed the same words are sung: <i>That saved a wretch like me.</i><br>
<br>And that is the sweet sound of grace.
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-46840774639294697392012-02-26T20:30:00.001-06:002012-02-26T20:30:59.020-06:00We held them to 63<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">When I was a sophomore in high school I played slot receiver on the junior varsity football team. One week, when we were playing a big rival, several of our starters were moved up to varsity, leaving 13 players on the junior varsity. We called ourselves the Baker's Dozen.<br />
<br />
As you might expect, when you're playing with only 13 players, including the backup quarterback (who was the starting running back), the backup running back (to replace the one now playing quarterback), and a couple of backup linemen, the game is not going to go well. And it didn't.<br />
<br />
During the first half, the left guard blew out his knee. We didn't have any backup linemen, so I had to move to guard for the remainder of the game. I weighed 120 pounds, so I was a bit over-matched.<br />
<br />
Later, after being punched by the guy he was blocking several times (in full view of the referee) our left tackle finally punched him back and was thrown out of the game (as was the guy on the other team). One of our wide receivers had to take his place, and he weighed less than I did. And unlike me, he had never played on the line before. He also didn't know any of the blocking assignments, so before each play he would ask me who he should block. I would point to one of the players lined up near him and say, "Block that guy."<br />
<br />
Since we had two lineman on the left side who were much smaller than the opposing side, and since our quarterback was a runner and not a thrower, our entire offense consisted of running plays to the right side. We were very easy to stop. I'm not sure if we got a first down the rest of the game.<br />
<br />
And since all 11 starters on offense also had to play defense, we were very easy to score on. In fact, the opposing team kept their starters in the entire game, running up the score. They were attempting to score 70 or more points.<br />
<br />
But we held them to 63.<br />
<br />
<b>EPILOGUE:</b> The following year, when I was on the varsity football team, this rival team was favored by 14 points when we played them. We won by 29.<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-26017367580939853222012-02-13T19:00:00.004-06:002012-02-13T19:01:44.448-06:00Just Keep Pedaling<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Over the past few years of cycling I've learned a few things.<br />
<br />
First, always look behind you before you spit. Or clear your nose. You never know when another cyclist (or a vehicle) is coming up behind you, and you want to make sure the coast is clear before you do either. And I certainly hope any rider in front of me offers the same courtesy.<br />
<br />
The second thing to remember about cycling: it is a metaphor for life.<br />
<br />
Riding is an activity that is often solitary. Other people may come along for a time, but often it's just you and your thoughts. Or thought, as the case may be. There are hills and valleys, sunny days and rainy days, injuries and accidents, and days with struggles and days without.<br />
<br />
And then there's the wind. A strong headwind on a ride can make you feel like you're actually going backward. But a strong tailwind can make you feel like you're flying.<br />
<br />
In life, you may get married and divorced, have kids, send them off to be on their own, but there will be times of solitude. There are ups and downs, good days and bad days, illness, and days with struggles and days without.<br />
<br />
And there are days where you feel people or forces are pushing against you ... you feel your headwind. It feels like you'll never get ahead, no matter what you do. And then there are days where you feel like you're on top of the world, like there's nothing you can't do. You feel your tailwind.<br />
<br />
The interesting thing about a tailwind is that you don't always know it's there. We like to think of ourselves as self-sufficient, that we don't need any help. But often, an unseen someone or something was there all along, pushing us and guiding us.<br />
<br />
With a headwind, you always know it's there. You can feel it when someone or some force is keeping you from moving forward, and it's a struggle to continue. But no matter which wind you have on your ride or in your life the most important thing I've learned is this:<br />
<br />
Just keep pedaling.<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-9097981042791004632012-01-05T17:20:00.004-06:002012-01-05T17:20:00.113-06:00I resolve to not make any resolutions<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">I don't make New Year's resolutions. I like to make my goals on an as-needed basis and not just one time at the beginning of the year. Plus, as any health club employee will tell you, most resolutions don't make it past the first two weeks of the year anyway.<br />
<br />
However, last year I did set a couple of goals for myself for 2011. In 2010 I started riding my bicycle more frequently. I finished the year with over 1100 miles. I even rode a 100 mile ride for the first time since 1997, and completed it (see <a href="http://donreport.blogspot.com/2010/10/outlaw-bike-tour-100.html">Outlaw Bike Tour 100</a>).<br />
<br />
So for 2011 I set some more ambitious goals. I wanted to ride a minimum of 150 miles for each month, and at least 1800 miles for the year. I also wanted to complete two 100 mile bike rides.<br />
<br />
The monthly minimum was easy March through May when I was out of work because I could ride several days a week. But when the sunsets got earlier late in the year it got a little more difficult to find the time to ride. However, I did make my 150 mile minimum every month, ranging in distance from 150.14 miles in December to 300.22 miles in March, averaging 204.17 miles per month.<br />
<br />
I was also able to complete two 100 mile bike rides (see <a href="http://donreport.blogspot.com/2011/09/are-we-there-yet.html">Are we there yet?</a> and <a href="http://donreport.blogspot.com/2011/10/much-more-than-first-place.html">Much more than first place</a>). And with all of my rides I totaled 2450.05 miles for the year.<br />
<br />
So, for next year I hope to improve on those numbers. I've set a monthly minimum of 200 miles and a yearly total of 2600 miles, and I want to ride three 100 mile bike rides. It looks like I have my work cut out for me this year.<br />
<br />
Hopefully I won't give up within the first two weeks.<br />
<br />
<b>2011 Totals</b><br />
Number of rides: 84<br />
Distance: 2,450.05 mi<br />
Avg Distance: 29.17 mi<br />
Max Distance: 101.92 mi<br />
Estimated Calories: 158,544 C<br />
Time: 174:28:33 h:m:s<br />
Avg Time: 2:04:38 h:m:s<br />
Max Time: 6:08:41 h:m:s<br />
Avg Speed: 14.0 mph<br />
Max Speed: 37.9 mph<br />
Avg HR: 136 bpm<br />
Max HR: 179 bpm<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-77378743819985999722011-11-28T18:15:00.005-06:002011-11-28T18:18:42.570-06:00Front row seats aren't that important<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">In the late 80's, the music scene was ruled by the hair bands: Mötley Crüe, Def Leppard, Poison, Cinderella, RATT and of course, Bon Jovi. In 1986 Bon Jovi released <i>Slippery When Wet</i>, their best-selling album (12 million sold in the US), which included such hits as <i>You Give Love a Bad Name</i>, <i>Wanted Dead or Alive</i> and <i>Livin' on a Prayer</i>. In 1988 they released <i>New Jersey</i>, which spawned five Top 10 singles, a record for a hard rock album.<br />
<br />
To promote that album, Bon Jovi embarked on the Bad Medicine Tour, visiting more than 22 countries and performing more than 232 shows, including exotic Lubbock, Texas where my incredibly handsome twin brother Ron and I were attending college. We invited our friends Greg and "Two Beer" Brad, and the four of us headed to the show at Lubbock Coliseum.<br />
<br />
Lubbock Coliseum was an interesting venue, used for Texas Tech basketball games (at that time), livestock shows and concerts. Concerts there were general admission, which meant seats on the floor were first-come, first-serve, and you could push yourself as close to the stage as you wanted. It also meant you had to keep your feet or run the risk of getting trampled by the crowd.<br />
<br />
And the Bon Jovi concert was packed. The four of us were several dozen rows back, but the band had scaffolding that went out above the crowd, and Jon (he and I are on a first-name basis) would walk out and sing to those of us in the back. However, our friend Greg wanted to see how close to the front he could get and off he disappeared into the crowd.<br />
<br />
About an hour later, we see him making his way back to our group, and his shirt is covered in sweat. We asked, "How close to the front did you get?"<br />
<br />
He replied, "Oh, I got all the way against the rail. It took me 15 minutes to get there, and I stayed there for 30 minutes, but then I had leave. With everyone pushing me against the rail I thought I was going to pass out, so I made my way back here."<br />
<br />
Looking at his sweat-soaked shirt we thought he might have gotten over-heated so we asked, "Was it too hot being in that crowd? Your shirt is covered in sweat."<br />
<br />
Greg looked down at the sweat on his shirt and replied, "Oh, it's not mine."<br />
<br />
You know, we were fine staying where we were.<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-60573505043208422892011-10-30T18:25:00.000-05:002011-10-30T18:26:37.005-05:00I may have been too early<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">I am notoriously early for everything. To me, showing up on time is showing up late. I show up early for interviews, appointments and dates. I have been known to show up so early for functions I have to sit in my car for 15-20 minutes before I "arrive" at a more reasonable time.<br />
<br />
I had one friend who had parties at his house, and I was always the first one to arrive. To keep from being the first to arrive every single time I purposely showed up for one of his parties an hour late, and I was still there first.<br />
<br />
I had another friend who always showed up at the theater so late we would miss the first few minutes of a movie, so I started telling him a start time 30 minutes before the actual start time to ensure that he would actually show up on time. And even then he still showed up late sometimes.<br />
<br />
But there was one time I <i>may</i> have been too early.<br />
<br />
Back in 2000 my 1 year old car was due for registration. The state inspection wasn't due for another month, but I wanted them both to occur at the same time in future years, so I took my car in for inspection a month early.<br />
<br />
When I pulled into the service center and told the employee I was there for my state inspection I was fully expecting to get some grief. So, with a somewhat snotty attitude I added, "And yes, I know I'm a month early."<br />
<br />
The employee looked at my sticker and said, "Sir, you're a year early." (Apparently, the inspection for brand new cars is good for two years instead of the usual one.)<br />
<br />
Perhaps I should have waited in my car to arrive at a more reasonable time.<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com0Round Rock, TX 78681, USA30.5184228 -97.70908539999999230.450977299999998 -97.7640194 30.5858683 -97.654151399999989tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-33029697687895664952011-10-04T18:20:00.001-05:002012-01-05T17:18:41.496-06:00Much more than first place<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">At the beginning of the year I set a goal for myself to complete two 100 mile rides. I completed the first one in August. (See <a href="http://donreport.blogspot.com/2011/09/are-we-there-yet.html">Are we there yet?</a>) The past weekend I completed the second. And through some luck and skill, but mostly luck, I was the first 100 mile rider to finish.<br />
<br />
The Texas Mamma Jamma ride is a recreational bike ride in the Austin area which began in 2009. The ride raises funds for central Texans coping with breast cancer. It's new, so it's a small ride, but since its inception it has raised over $1,000,000!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://donyoung.us/images/2011MammaJamma/2011MammaJamma-02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="180" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijV603PPVhhkus5RZXaadyWaqlSGds6ERYfNL3PqGjnGJT2wLxWB-BHkFLVqqFIdDJmCnNVUe0232w1q4qsizxx7hdis1Rf5dsfXRzkfj9W0jFXSkCfvQ6k6O5EgQhu9GjmRBctw/s320/2011MammaJamma-02_med.jpg" /></a></div>The 100 mile ride started at 7:30, led by a group of 13 riders (including me), who rode most of the first 10 miles together. As riders would bunch up I would periodically pass groups of people, trying to see how close to the lead I could get. I made it as high as sixth.<br />
<br />
Six of the riders were much, much stronger, and around mile 15 a significant gap formed between them and the remaining pack. Over the next few miles the gap steadily increased. At this point I was in 10th. At the rest stop at mile 20, three riders ahead of me took a break, leaving me in seventh and by myself.<br />
<br />
At mile 33, the first six riders hit the rest stop, which I skipped, putting me in first. The first six passed me back at mile 45 with relative ease, putting me back in seventh. I hit my first rest stop at mile 51, arriving just as the first six were leaving. I refilled my water, ate a power bar or two (or three), drank some fluids and got back on the road<br />
<br />
The first six had a significant lead, and since they were excellent riders I was content to finish seventh and continued to ride at a comfortable pace. However, I had some luck on my side. When I left I came to an intersection at mile 56. One of the volunteers was hammering a "direction" sign pointing right. He said that someone had switched it to point left (not sure if it was unintentional or malicious), and he had just noticed it as he was driving by.<br />
<br />
Of course, this meant the first six riders had gone off course. The volunteer had to get in his truck and chase them down to get them back on track. This also meant that I was now in first place again. I continued riding at a comfortable pace, and despite leg cramps at mile 65 I made to to mile 84 before I took my next break.<br />
<br />
After a quick stop I was back on the road, finishing the 94 mile ride in under 7 hours total time, including breaks. My ride time was 6:08, slightly longer than the 102 mile ride in August, but this ride was by far the hilliest I'd ever ridden.So how did those six riders do? I estimate they rode an extra 25-30 miles due to the bad sign, but they still finished only 20 minutes after I did.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://donyoung.us/images/2011MammaJamma/2011MammaJamma-05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="180" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmi2xApDiU1XmhMNFv1k2RdCjuQ3PyttY8VK368-vRjaO0drZnAh0hpkCr-izpBG3GDG_-J3SaY4wJfzleYdMYvIFR6saWcVqaxUr2qQ7TGlkAacAe0ryP6H2iCVRHIDm4yOeQBg/s320/2011MammaJamma-05_med.jpg" /></a></div>However, places weren't the reason for the ride. Fighting breast cancer was. Several of the riders were breast cancer survivors or were riding in honor of someone who was. I rode in honor of my friend Kristi, breast cancer survivor and all-around warrior. She is someone I've known for more than 25 years, and it was an honor and a privilege to ride for her.<br />
<br />
That honor beats first place any day.<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-60707512763068410382011-10-02T15:10:00.005-05:002011-10-04T20:17:02.355-05:00Don't stop believin'!<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">At the end of September I went to Dallas for my niece's fourth birthday and to take Kristi to see Night Ranger, Foreigner and Journey in concert for her slightly-older-than-fourth birthday that happened the month before. On this trip I learned several things:<br />
</span><br />
<ol><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">My niece is now aware enough to realize that her birthday is <b>ALL</b> about her.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">The sound engineer for Foreigner is incredible.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">Taco Bueno restaurants are surprisingly easy to break into.</span></li>
</ol><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://donyoung.us/images/don_jadyn_birthday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="180" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4c_zp6CtPZzTo7vWlTn-1SJk2klK0CwVSWKbh21ZlPfkVrqMQBrpZT3fIaoGwoNXB2NXhaVTBYW_m0vkob-rPnonfgbrHP4wnLwfLCOV6ONGT7gPTskDDI0Wi2bfi2Kc-Hw9GYw/s320/don_jadyn_birthday_med.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Upon arriving at my brother's house, the door was opened by my niece announcing, "Uncle Don! It's my birthday!" It would not be the last time she mentioned that.<br />
<br />
After lunch and cake she opened her gifts. She loved my unicorn pillow, almost as much as I loved the magnetic tiles her mommy and daddy got her. But after several hours I learned to hate the musical card she got.<br />
<br />
After Kristi arrived, she and I headed to the concert. We both grew up during the time when the bands we were seeing were popular, and although Foreigner and Journey don't have the original singers we were looking forward to singing along. We got in the gates about 90 minutes before the concert started, so we looked at concert t-shirts (unimpressive and overpriced) and spent a fortune at the concession stand. We then took our blanket and claimed a spot in lawn seating.<br />
<br />
Night Ranger opened with a short set, playing most of the crowd favorites. Most importantly, they closed with Sister Christian, which is my favorite song of all time. Yes, really. Foreigner played a long set, playing all of their hits from the 70's and 80's. They were, by far, the best sounding band I had ever heard live. It almost sounded like you were listening to a CD.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://donyoung.us/images/don_kristi_journey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="180" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5XT99VO0lJqtv9e6cjTIw7xejuHeX4UJMU08M1N8lZOWA1XdXgFERpQQEQXdmXXvHIsqk_ZCVCzbeHz-5HSn1AN8qd6rV3I6lQgFwDzSMkHm5q3MipX_WxWyj-8iiYVKZcwBPBQ/s320/don_kristi_journey.jpg" /></a></div>And finally, Journey hit the stage. Now, I have a couple of complaints about their concert. First, the sound mix wasn't nearly as good as Foreigner's. The music was a little distorted, and it made it hard to hear the lyrics sometimes. And second, they played way too many instrumental interludes between songs.<br />
<br />
But, I did enjoy their concert more simply because I like more of their songs, and I enjoyed singing along with all the ones I recognized. The people around me probably didn't enjoy my singing as much, but I didn't care. They played all of my favorites, closing with an encore of Don't Stop Believin' and Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'.<br />
<br />
The drive back to my brother's was an adventure. It took 45 minutes to get out of the parking lot, and even more delays driving through construction, but we finally found a late-night fast food place a little after midnight, Taco Bueno.<br />
<br />
Since neither of us were familiar with their menu, I suggested ordering inside and taking it back to my brother's. When we got to the door, the sign said only the drive-thru was open that late. However, I pulled on the door a couple of times, and it popped open. You could see the deadbolt sticking out, but the door opened anyway. Because we had just broken into a Taco Bueno, I thought it might be a good idea to decide what we wanted inside, and then order from the drive-thru. So we read the menu for 5-10 minutes and finally decided. During that time, none of the employees even knew we were there. I wonder if they even realized the doors were open.<br />
<br />
After we ordered, we took our food back to my brother's and had an indoor picnic before crashing. It was an exhausting day, but I look forward to our next concert adventure.<br />
<br />
Next time, we might try to break into a McDonald's.<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-26568297565162446822011-09-03T16:15:00.005-05:002011-10-04T03:12:26.447-05:00Are we there yet?<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://donyoung.us/images/2011hh100/2011hh100-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpCzXyehoDgiqFz6eVHlyTkHO9IaFS0e5wTM8vOb4MuYshJi2VkAr8daXyoD0UcpRIwflrw3LIpxrdC_uRyfo_jiKF6LirMWZdApaFK_-Kbw4-nXkvrQKkO8LJsYomzAAg1atJQw/s320/2011hh100-01_med.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Last weekend, I participated in the 2011 Hotter'N Hell 100 (HH100). The HH100 began in 1982 as a way to celebrate Wichita Falls' centennial (100 miles in 100 degree heat). The first ride had 1200 participants, but it has grown into the largest single day 100 mile bicycle ride in the nation. This year, the total number of participants in all of the events was 13,241, with 11,870 of those riding the 100 mile endurance ride.<br />
<br />
Now, this wasn't the first time I've ridden 100 miles in one day (see <a href="http://donreport.blogspot.com/2009/05/youre-better-man-than-i-am.html">You're a better man than I am</a>, <a href="http://donreport.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-was-doing-fine-until-ants.html">I was doing fine until the ants</a> and <a href="http://donreport.blogspot.com/2010/10/outlaw-bike-tour-100.html">Outlaw Bike Tour 100</a>), but it was my first HH100. I had two main goals for the ride: 1) Finish, 1a) Finish in a total time (including rest stops and bike repairs) of under 7 hours, or at least improve on my time from last year's Outlaw Bike Tour 100, and 2) Make it at least until mile 25 before I made my first "Are we there yet?" joke.<br />
<br />
And on one of those goals I failed miserably.<br />
<br />
I can ride between 40-45 miles before I have to refill my water pack, so my plan was to stop at the mile 42 rest stop, then again at the mile 84 rest stop, and then ride the last 18 miles of the 102 mile ride to the finish. That was my plan.<br />
<br />
I made it to my first rest stop at mile 42 with relative ease. I grabbed some oranges and bananas, refilled my water, and got back on the road. Three miles later I had a flat. I changed the tire on the side of the road and started up again. At mile 50 I stopped at the rest stop to put a little more air in my tire and to buy a spare tube for the remainder of the ride (since I had used the one I brought). It was a quick stop.<br />
<br />
I was still on pace to finish with a total time of under 6.5 hours, but around mile 70 I started to feel the effects of the heat, so I stopped at the rest stop at mile 77. I sat in the shade, drank some fluids and caught my breath. And at some point I misplaced my sunglasses.<br />
<br />
Since I stopped one rest stop early, my new plan was to finish out the last 25 miles without stopping. Again, that was my plan.<br />
<br />
The heat was brutal. Officially, the high was 109 (making it the hottest HH100 ever), but there were reports of temperature measurements on the ground as high as 125. The slight wind felt like a blow dryer in my face, and without my sunglasses I was squinting from the wind and glare. With my body temperature rising, and with my need for fluids and food, I stopped again at mile 91.<br />
<br />
After getting more fluids, I got back on the bike, determined to finish the remainder of the ride nonstop.<br />
<br />
I stopped again at mile 96. Again, more fluids. Again, back on the bike determined to finish the remainder of the ride. Since I had now left the last rest stop, I was pretty sure I was going to finish.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://donyoung.us/images/2011hh100/2011hh100-06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6lBUmbXfFBJJ88lOkaCujBkxqSoZ4j8TOCud7OjWhHO7sHEEG2_XAFnoYtRXY7uPJtBc4L7l2yLpMvPMcq-i_DgLUeEA6JxLAJvOZHG8mT2uWeoMlePA74YpEJzl1yQH6qtUUjQ/s320/2011hh100-06_med.jpg" /></a></div><br />
And finish I did. I crossed the finish line around 1:41 in the afternoon, giving me a total ride time of 7:18. It wasn't quite under 7 hours like I had hoped, but it was 59 minutes faster than the 95 mile ride I did last October. And of the total time, only 5:45 was actual riding time. Also, I rode the first 91 miles in 6:04. The last 11 took me 1:14. Did I mention it was hot?<br />
<br />
I obviously achieved goals 1 and 1a, which means I must have failed goal 2. So when did I make my first "Are we there yet?" joke?<br />
<br />
Mile 0. Twice.<br />
<br />
</span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-65914668928066774162011-08-18T20:00:00.001-05:002011-08-18T20:04:37.196-05:00The one time I fouled out of a basketball game<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">For those that don't know, in almost all levels of the game of basketball each player gets five fouls per game. When the fifth foul is called you "foul out" and have to sit out the remainder of the game. In all my years of organized basketball I only fouled out of one game, and I did it with two fouls.
<br />
<br />(Granted, it's easy to get fewer than five fouls when you don't actually get in the game, but that's beside the point.)
<br />
<br />When my incredibly handsome twin brother Ron and I attended Texas Tech in the late 80's they had one of the largest intramural sports programs in the nation. (Because what else are you going to do in Lubbock?) They had male, female and co-ed teams in Greek, dorm and open divisions. Fellow college students were scorekeepers, timers and referees, and not so surprisinly mistakes were sometimes made.
<br />
<br />Our freshman year we played on several of our dorm floor's teams, including the basketball team. During one game I was playing defense on an opposing player, and I was whistled for my second foul of the game. After the referee gave the nature of the offense to the scorekeeper he then informed me that I had fouled out of the game.
<br />
<br />Naturally, I protested by noting it was only my second foul, and he said they had five fouls for me. I said, "You do realize I have a twin brother also playing, and I'm betting you put his three fouls on me." However, my argument fell on deaf ears, and I had to sit out the rest of the game.
<br />
<br />You can bet in every game after that one of us wore a bandanna or some other differentiator.
<br />
<br /><b>EPILOGUE: </b>Looking back, as long as both of us weren't in the game at the same time I probably could have gone back in the game, and they never would have known the difference.
<br />
<br /></span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-27943461885619609492011-07-31T14:30:00.001-05:002011-07-31T14:30:05.799-05:00Apparently there's a lot of humidity in my closet<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">As mentioned in a couple of other blog posts I was laid off from my job of 8.5 years at the end of March. It was the second time in my career that I had been laid off, so I think I was better prepared at handling the time off this time.<br /><br />I was a little more active in trying to find the next job, so my time off was much shorter. And I had a lot of help from friends, family and former coworkers. A friend from college is a recruiter in the San Francisco area, and she was a big help in updating my resume. Several former coworkers posted recommendations to my <a href="http://www.linkedin.com/in/donryoung">profile</a> on LinkedIn, some of which went far beyond my expectations. And my friends and family, and even people I didn't know from my church e-mailed me about job opportunities that they found online.<br /><br />And with all that help, I was eventually hired as a contract employee for the Department of Veterans Affairs. There was an extensive background check (some of which is still ongoing), so it took several weeks before I could start, but I finally started in mid-June. It's a bit of a commute, but I'm able to leave early enough to miss traffic. And I do have the opportunity to work from home, if the necessity arises.<br /><br />The work environment is a little different. I went from having my own office to working in a "cube farm." And I went from wearing shorts and t-shirts to wearing slacks and shirts with collars. I had to buy a whole new wardrobe of work clothes since the slacks I had worn at a previous job 9 years ago no longer fit. Apparently, they had shrunk from sitting in the closet unworn.<br /><br />I'm guessing it was the humidity. :)<br /><br /></span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-67105642486768740592011-06-19T21:20:00.000-05:002011-06-19T21:20:42.051-05:00Of course I knew what I was doing; I had a clipboard<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">As mentioned in several other blog posts I, along with my friend Gary, coached a boys youth soccer team for 8 years (16 seasons). Gary's son Dusty was one of our players, and we coached him from U5 up to U12. Most of the other players came and went, but we did have 2 others who played all 16 seasons on our team, and several others who played 10+ seasons.<br /><br />Gary and I worked well together. He had more soccer playing experience (somewhat easy, since I had none), so he did most of the in-game instructions. I focused on formations, where each kid played and substitutions. And in later seasons I even carried around a clipboard so that it looked like I knew what I was doing.<br /><br />When we first started, neither one of us knew much about coaching. However, at the U5 level, it didn't really matter much. At that level, the teams play 3 to a side with no goalies, so the strategy is simply, "Kick it that way!" As they got older, the teams added more players to a side, including goalies.<br /><br />Once positions became important, we tried to give each kid a chance to play as many positions as possible. Some coaches would put their 3 best kids as forwards, their 3 weakest kids in defense, and the rest in midfield. We actually split the skill level up so that each line (forward, midfield, defense) had strong and weak kids on them. And we moved them around between the different lines because they couldn't ever get better at a position if they never got to play it.<br /><br />That philosophy meant we sometimes didn't win as many games as other philosophies might have, but it was recreational soccer. We felt it was our goal (pun intended) to make them better players for when they played select soccer or even high school soccer.<br /><br />We may not have done a lot right in our coaching, but every now and then you get a reminder that there were some things you did do right. Three of our former players are still playing select soccer (2 played 16 seasons for us, 1 played 10+ seasons for us), and their team finished this past season as undefeated state champions for their age group. One of the player's mom e-mailed me about the team, thanking Gary and I for our coaching style. She mentioned her son appreciates that we didn't pigeonhole him into one position.<br /><br />Sometimes the littlest things we do have the biggest impact.<br /><br /><b>Epilogue:</b> When Gary and I "retired" from coaching soccer, I took some pictures from the various years and put them <a href="http://donyoung.us/soccer.html">here</a>.<br /><br /></span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-29504369979699328152011-04-24T17:45:00.001-05:002011-04-24T17:52:39.332-05:00I will always have hope<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">My church has kicked off a fundraising campaign for renovating the sanctuary, and members have been asked to write devotionals for a six week series. The following is the devotional I wrote for the third week on hope.<br /><br /><i>“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5-6, NIV).</i><br /><br />I was laid off from my job of 8.5 years at the end of March. Like many layoffs, it was due to financial reasons, not because of performance. I was fortunate to have survived several rounds of layoffs over the years because I had been working on a product that was important to the long-term success of the company. That was not the case this time.<br /><br />Since then I have had a few job interviews, both on the phone and in person. On a couple of occasions I was content with how I performed in the interview, but none of those opportunities have resulted in job offers so far. I have several months left before not having a job will start taking a toll financially, but hopefully an opportunity comes along before then.<br /><br />I don’t know what God’s plan is for me, but I’m not going to confine what He can do by my limited human imagination. I know that whatever happens in my life He can use it for the good of His kingdom. As the psalmist in Psalm 71:14 said, “I will always have hope.”<br /><br /><i>Father, help me to trust the plan you have for my life and to be patient waiting for your perfect timing. Be a lamp for my feet, Lord, and make my path straight. Amen.</i><br /><br /></span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-78113232770313068862011-04-08T15:45:00.000-05:002011-04-08T15:52:00.744-05:00What kind of tree would I be?<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">I got laid off from my job last week, so I find myself searching for a new one. I've updated my resume, I've submitted it to a few jobs, and I've had a few interviews, both on the phone and at the prospective company.<br /><br />During some of these interviews I've been asked one of my favorite questions (other than "If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?"): What are your strengths and weaknesses?<br /><br />When answering the "strength" part of the question, you're really trying to give the company reasons to hire you. So, you want to highlight assets you have that you think would benefit the company: things like being a self-starter, being an expert on a particular product (especially if the company uses that product or has a need for expertise with that product), or that you're a quick learner.<br /><br />The "weakness" part of the question is more interesting, because you're really being asked to give reasons for the company to not hire you. Of course, you want to stay away from answers like "I don't like people" or "I'm a bit of a back-stabber."<br /><br />There are two schools of thought on how you should answer the "weakness" part. One school of thought is that you should give a weakness that's not really a weakness, like "I'm a workaholic" or "I sometimes get so wrapped up in solving a problem that I won't leave work until I do." I'm not really a fan of this type of response because it always sounded disingenuous to me, so I imagine it sounds the same to the person who asked the question.<br /><br />The second school of thought is to give an honest weakness, but one that possibly is irrelevant to the job: things like "I wish I knew more about product <i>A</i>" (when product <i>A</i> is not important to the company, or "I'm weak when it comes to testing hardware" (when the duties mostly revolve around testing software). When I interview I prefer to give this type of response.<br /><br />And what about the kind of tree I'd be? Perhaps I'd be the type of tree with long branches so that I could smack the person who asked such an irrelevant question. :)<br /><br /></span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-57241517325518457412011-03-22T12:45:00.000-05:002011-03-22T12:49:20.052-05:00My life as a sitcom<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">TV sitcoms have been around for more than 60 years, and they continue to be a staple on American television. However, the longer a show runs, the more likely it is that at least one episode will use one of the following sitcom clichés: a character is given increased power at work or school and it goes to his head; a fat husband dating or married to a thin wife; the crazy or overbearing mother-in-law; the evil twin; the characters start a business; the husband forgets wife's birthday or their anniversary; a lie gets out of hand; the wife is having a baby NOW; a character unexpectedly finds out about a child he had in his youth; two people who allegedly hate each other but secretly love each other; a character needs money and there's a talent show with prize money that equals the amount of money needed; a character gets amnesia. And there are many others.<br /><br />One of those clichés happened in my life (other than the evil twin one), and it's all because of Facebook. Facebook is a social networking site that allows a person to communicate with friends all over the world, some of whom he or she has never met in person, and let those friends know when he or she is taking a nap. :) But it's also a nice way to catch up with friends you've lost touch with.<br /><br />And in my case, it's also a nice way to meet the daughter you never knew you had.<br /><br />I have a female friend that I met back in the late 80's, and we dated for a brief time in the early 90's. We lost track of each other after that, and in the age before e-mail and cell phones it wasn't uncommon to lose track forever.<br /><br />As luck would have it, I came across her name on Facebook and sent her a message. She responded, and we caught each other up on our lives. She has a couple of daughters, one of whom also has a profile on Facebook. As I was looking at the daughter's profile I noticed her birthday was listed as March of 1991, which is somewhere around the time her mother and I dated.<br /><br />My mouth immediately dropped. Could this daughter be mine? Is this why we lost contact? Perhaps she wanted to raise the daughter herself, and understandably so. I wasn't exactly the most responsible person during my late teens and 20's. Or my 30's and 40's, for that matter. I wondered if the daughter was smart or funny. Did she have a lot of friends? And I thought about the past for each of us having consequences, even 20 years later.<br /><br />As I was looking at a picture of my friend and her daughter, secretly thanking God that the daughter looked like her mother, I was reminded of another feature of Facebook: the minimum age for creating a profile. In order to create a profile on Facebook, you have to be at least 13 years of age. Looking at the picture, I realized that the daughter probably wasn't old enough, so she used 1991 to get past the age restriction. Even if she was older than 13, it was obvious from the picture that she certainly wasn't 20 years old.<br /><br />So, my brief stint as a father came to a close, and thus ended the "sitcom" portion of my life. However, I have decided to start my own business. And hilarity will ensue. :)<br /><br /><br /></span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-44833674149892372242011-02-23T15:45:00.000-06:002011-02-23T15:49:05.377-06:00Now aren't you being selfish?<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">When I first moved to Austin back in 1992 I lived in an apartment complex for a few years. I had various neighbors during that time, but my favorites were the Rainbows, a mother and daughter who were both named Rainbow. It was confusing (to me at least) for both to have the same name, so I gave them the nicknames Rainbow Sr. and Rainbow Jr.<br /><br />Rainbow Sr. was some sort of priestess in her New Age, crystal-reading, incense-burning religion, which probably explains the names. She was a single mom, and from what I could tell she had sole custody of her daughter. Rainbow Jr. was a high school student and slightly rebellious, as teenagers sometimes are. And when her mom went out on a weekend night, Rainbow Jr. liked to throw parties for her high school friends.<br /><br />And as a mother and her teenage daughter are wont to do, they sometimes argued. Late one particular Saturday night, Rainbow Sr. was going out. For whatever reason, this upset Rainbow Jr. As Rainbow Sr. walked to her car, Rainbow Jr. stood on their balcony yelling at her, loud enough to keep me awake. As I lay in bed I thought it would be "neighborly" for me to let them know they were being too loud. And then, an opportunity presented itself. Rainbow Jr. yelled at her mom, "You're being selfish. What about me?"<br /><br />Struck by the irony of her statement, I then yelled a retort, "Now aren't <i>you</i> being selfish?"<br /><br />They were obviously struck by the sheer gravitas of my statement, quietly went their separate ways and pondered the wise words that I had yelled. Either that, or they were embarrassed that they were yelling loud enough for others to hear. Whichever.<br /><br /></span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-52270806994578428062011-01-20T15:15:00.001-06:002011-01-20T15:18:02.665-06:00Dodgeball = Life?<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">At my church we have a few camps during the year for the kids. Since I like working with kids and being active, I sometimes help out with the recreational activities.<br /><br />For the longer lasting camps we try to vary the activities, but I always try to make sure a certain activity is played at least once during camp: dodgeball! For anyone who has never played dodgeball, the game is played with two teams who line up on opposite ends of a court with rubber balls placed in the center. Someone yells go and both teams rush to the center to get a ball so that they can throw them at the other team. A player is out if they get hit by a ball or if someone on the other team catches a ball they threw. A team wins when all the players on the other team have been knocked out of the game.<br /><br />Of course, when a game involves throwing objects at each other, there's always a chance for injury, but just about any recreational activity has that chance. Personally, I like having dodgeball as an activity because the rules are simple, you don't need a lot of equipment, and games can be played quickly.<br /><br />And I think dodgeball is a good metaphor for life. Obviously, the more athletic kids will be able to stay in the game longer (survival of the fittest), which for the other kids might seem unfair. And nothing says life is unfair like a dodgeball to the side of the head.<br /><br />But over time something else usually happens. When there's a kid who is more athletic you see the kids on the other team band together to try to knock that kid out of the game. One or two kids will the draw the athletic kid's fire, and when he is out of ammo, the others on the team will try to hit him when he can't defend himself. If they're successful, then they have a good chance of winning the game.<br /><br />They see a difficult obstacle, they work together to overcome the obstacle, and they all win.<br /><br />And that type of plan can help all of us, no matter what life throws at us. Even if it's a dodgeball to the side of the head.<br /><br /></span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11106649.post-87952894967091938422010-12-28T11:00:00.000-06:002010-12-28T11:03:39.053-06:00Christmas lights<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Christmas is one of my favorite holidays. In addition to celebrating the birth of Jesus, I enjoy getting together with family and friends, the food, the carols. But most of all, I enjoy the Christmas lights.<br /><br />I like how houses look when they are <i>tastefully</i> covered in lights, with additional lights covering the trees and bushes and perhaps a display or two in the yard. For the yard displays I like a general theme: a Nativity scene, the Peanuts gang, or Santa and his elves.<br /><br />When my incredibly handsome twin brother Ron and I were in high school and college, we put up the Christmas lights at my parent's house. My mom and sister weren't fond of heights, and my dad wasn't as spry (and our older brother didn't live at home), so putting the lights up was our job.<br /><br />Mom also had a Nativity scene in the front yard, plastic and lit from the inside. We had Mary and Joseph, the baby Jesus (of course), the shepherds and various animals. But in a nice mixing of genres that always made me chuckle, we also had Santa on the roof overlooking the scene.<br /><br />At my house every Christmas I put up lights on the roof and in the tree in my front yard. Sometimes I've had some in the bushes and around the garage, depending on if I can get all the light strands working. And in the future I hope to add more lights, and I want to have a nicely lit Nativity scene in the front yard: Mary, Joseph, the baby Jesus, the shepherds and various animals. And in honor of my mom I might even have Santa standing amongst the shepherds.<br /><br />He was a saint, after all.<br /><br /></span>Don Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05800716337864453851noreply@blogger.com1