The Disappearing Date

Over the years I've been on a lot of dates. Some were good, some were bad, some continued on to be future girlfriends, and some ended right after that first date (or perhaps during it), and some ... well, some just spent the entire evening crying in the bathroom.

Back in my late teens I had a friend who I'll call Jennifer. One day she called and asked me for a favor. She had a friend (who I'll call Susan) who needed a date to one of their high school dances. Susan had planned on going with her boyfriend, but he had recently broken up with her and was taking someone else. Susan wanted to show him that she was "so over him" by showing up with her own date, and Jennifer suggested me.

So I agreed, knowing that my role was just to be a filler, and to possibly make her ex-boyfriend jealous. Because nothing makes an ex-boyfriend more jealous than when you show up with a nerdy honor student.

That evening I picked Susan up at Jennifer's house, introduced myself ("Hi, I'm your date."), and took her to the dance. Most of her friends were also friends with her ex-boyfriend, so we sat at a table with some friends I knew at the dance. A few minutes after we sat down, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. And other than an occasional glimpse in passing, that was the last I saw of my date.

I found out later from Jennifer that Susan had seen her ex-boyfriend with his date, and she was so upset she went to the bathroom to cry. I guess she wasn't "so over him" after all. I couldn't really go console her in the ladies bathroom, so I stayed at the table, visited with my friends, and danced with other girls I knew.

My friends asked where my date was, and periodically I would see her walking in the crowd to find Jennifer so that they could go back the bathroom and talk. I would say, "Ooo, there she is, walking toward the bathroom again!"

After a couple of hours, I asked Jennifer if she would take Susan home since it didn't seem like she was ever coming out of the bathroom. And then I went home.

It wasn't necessarily a bad date, for me anyway. I've had worse. And it's certainly not the only time one of my dates ended with somebody crying in the bathroom.

You're welcome to my opinion

There are certain topics I don't usually discuss with people, like politics (as noted in Getting People to Vote). Sometimes it's because I don't have enough information to have an opinion on a particular topic, sometimes it's because I don't have any passion for a particular topic (a nice way of saying I don't care about that topic).

And sometimes it's because the other person doesn't really care about my opinion. Some people are more concerned with convincing you that their opinion is the correct one. Not only are they welcome to their opinion, but you're welcome to it as well. Opinions aren't facts, but they are certain that they are right. And you could be right if you'd just agree with them.

Politics is one area where that frequently occurs. Since we have two major parties it's very easy for your party to be right, and the other party to be wrong. Take a polarizing topic, like health care reform or the war in Iraq, and it's very easy to make them black-and-white issues. And that's a shame because those issues (and most others) are far more complex than that.

For example, how would one rate President Bush as a president. (I don't have an opinion on President Obama yet, since he's only been on the job for a year.) To answer that question with a simple black-and-white response would be to simply say "he sucked" or "he was the greatest thing since sliced bread".

But it's not that simple. Now, I think President Bush is a good man who tried to do a good job, but I don't think he had the skills to be a good president, and I don't consider that an insult. Most people who know me know that I have an extremely high opinion of myself, and I don't think I have the skills either. Personally, I think his biggest problem was surrounding himself with some terrible, terrible people.

And that's where the polarizing groups would try to convince me that I was "wrong." One side would argue that not only was he a great man, he was the greatest president in the history of presidents, while the other side would argue that not only was he a terrible president, he was also a spawn of the devil. And neither extreme group would welcome any disagreement to their opinion. They are right, you are wrong. It's just not worth the effort to discuss it with those types of people.

Of course, all of the above is my opinion. But you're welcome to it.

There's no skipping in basketball

I was having a bad week this past week. There were some personal and work issues bothering me, but mostly the boys basketball team I coach was frustrating me. I was trying to be patient (and failing), but their lack of attention and focus in practice was getting to me. Win or lose, I just want them to learn and get better as the season goes along. At this point, we don't have a set offense in place. We just want them to get in position, space the floor and maybe set some screens for each other.

There's a boy on my team who is younger than everyone else. He's the only one who hasn't started 1st grade yet, and he's also one of the smallest. He sometimes forgets who he's supposed to be guarding on defense, and he will probably lead the team in the number of times falling down for no apparent reason.

At our game today, we coaches were telling the boys to setup and space the floor, mostly to deaf ears. But one time, that young boy got in his position and set a screen for his teammate with the ball, which allowed the teammate to dribble past his defender and score.

As he was heading back on defense, I yelled, "Nice screen!" He smiled big, turned and waved to his dad (who was also congratulating him), and skipped happily to the defensive end. He then went on to set several more screens while he was on the floor.

For that brief moment he got it. That is why teacher's teach and parent's parent. And that's why I coach: that one perfect moment when you finally reach a child.

Ok, I could have done without the skipping.

Security question

For a few of my friends I do web pages and some computer support. My friend Laura in Florida is an event planner, and I helped a little with her website (http://hollidayplanit.com/). Last week she started having issues with her e-mails not reaching their destination, and after she was unable to get a resolution with the domain provider support she called in her IT Manager. The Big Gun. Awesome Don.

When I was finally able to get through on the phone, I was connected with someone with a very strong Indian accent whose name was "Tracy." In order to prove it was OK for me to access the account, Tracy asked me the security question: Laura's mother's maiden name. My response: Uh, her mother has been married 12 times, so I have no idea what her maiden name is.

I'm betting that's the first time they've ever had that response.

So, after validating my credentials with another method, we finally escalated the issue to the group who should have been fixing it in the first place. I called Laura and updated her on the issue. And I asked her the answer to the security question in case I have to call back any time soon. :)

Epilogue: Here's a story I wrote back in 2003 about her mom back when she'd only been married 11 times: There's always hope.

I certainly admired his honesty

A couple of years ago, I "retired" after 16 seasons of coaching a boys soccer team. However, this winter I returned to the coaching ranks. I am currently coaching a 1st and 2nd grade boys basketball team in my church's Upward basketball league. Unlike soccer, basketball is a sport I actually played growing up.

There's a player or two on each team with some basketball experience, but for most of the kids it's their first time playing basketball. The first few practices have been spent going over the basics: dribbling, defense, rebounding and the general rules of the game. In the future I hope to teach them offensive spacing, setting picks and switching on defense. Who knows, by the end of the season we might even learn an offensive play or two.

The games themselves are very structured. Each 18 minute half is divided into 6 minute segments. At the start of each segment, the players in the game are lined up based on skill level, and each one guards the player on the other team with the similar skill level. They play a basic man-on-man defense with no double-teaming or pressing. The substitutions are set up so that no player ever sits out more than one 6 minute segment in a row.

We just had our second game, and the boys are improving. There's still a lot of traveling and double-dribbling, and they sometimes forget who they're guarding on defense, but they're having fun. During halftime we were going over some things to work on in the second half. One player had missed the first game, so this was his very first game ever. He interrupted my pep talk to tell me, "Coach. This is my first game, and I have NO idea what I'm doing!"

I certainly admired his honesty.

Make a joyful noise!

Singing is much too enjoyable to only be done by those who are good at it. - Molly Ivins

I sing in my church choir. I sing not because I'm good at it, but because I enjoy it. I have a kind voice: the kind that should be singing quieter. The Bible tells us many times to make a joyful noise or to sing His praises; nowhere does it say we have to be in tune.

I never sang in my school choir, and I've never had any formal training. I can read music because of my years in the school band (playing the tuba, because I was just so cool), but I can't look at a note and sing the pitch I should be singing. I don't have perfect pitch, or even reasonably-close pitch. I don't harmonize, and I have no training in music theory. In fact, I didn't know what part I would sing until my first rehearsal. My range is limited, my voice is shaky, and my pitch is questionable.

But I like to sing. Put me next to someone who is singing the correct pitch, and I do my best to match it. I try not to sing too loud except when the song really moves me, and then I make no guarantees. I keep rehearsals lively with my sarcastic and slightly disruptive comments. I perform to the best of my abilities with all the talent that I have.

I make a joyful noise.

Snowpocalypse 2009

A lot of people not from Texas are surprised that Texas gets its fair share of snow. Granted, it's not months and months of snow like in the northern regions, but in north Texas, where I grew up, we usually got a few weeks of snow every winter. Typically, the snow hit in late January or early February, but we sometimes had a white Christmas.

However, we never had anything like this year. (In the literary world, this is known as foreshadowing.)

Early last week, I drove up to my dad's in north Texas. I had planned on spending a few days there and leaving on Wednesday the 23rd. However, I later decided to stay an extra day and leave for the Dallas area (to visit my brother and his family) on Thursday.

Little did I know that that decision would forever change my life. (More foreshadowing and a lot of exaggeration.)

Around 4:00 AM Thursday morning I awoke to hear a heavy rain falling. It rained a few hours, creating a nice layer of ice on the ground. Later, still early in the morning, it began to snow. By the time I tried to leave there were already several inches of snow on the ground. I was unable to get my car on the highway. I was also unable to get my car back up the driveway, so my car remained uncovered the rest of the day.

It snowed almost the entire day with the wind gusting to 30-40 MPH. Several of the highways in the area closed, and some travelers were stranded for 10-12 hours. Many had to abandon their cars. By the end of the day, my hometown reportedly had 15 inches of snow. As far as I can remember it's the most snow we've ever had.

On Christmas morning I again thought about driving to my brother's. However, several of the roads remained closed, and my car was going to take some time to dig out. So I stayed one more day.

By Saturday morning I was ready to leave. I was a little burned out on playing the Wii, and I really wanted to sleep in my own bed. After I dug out my car, my sister and some neighbors helped push me out of the driveway, and I headed out.

The roads were still somewhat icy, but on the major highways there was usually one lane that was fairly clear. The most difficult part was passing the really, really slow traffic because that meant switching over to the lane that was less clear. Several of the abandoned cars were still on the side of the highway.

The first part of the trip was very slow-going. It took 3 hours to travel a distance that normally would take 1 hour. But once I got far enough south the roads were much better. Once I got south of Ft. Worth, there was no snow or ice to be seen at all.

So, after 8 hours of traveling, including a stop at my brother's to drop off Christmas presents (and to play Guitar Hero), I finally made it back home. It was nice to finally sleep in my own bed.

Canine Massage Therapy

I was getting my hair cut today. My hairstylist has been cutting my hair for years, so we usually chitchat about things going on in our lives. Today, she mentioned an additional career that she wanted to try, which involved going to Canine Massage Therapy School.

I paused, wondering if I heard her correctly. And I thought, did a Mr. and Mrs. Canine open a massage therapy school, or was there a school to teach massage therapy for canines? So I asked.

And yes, she wants to learn massage therapy for canines. Again I paused, wondering just how tense could a dog's life be. Do they get knotted muscles from the stress of laying around the house all day? Do they complain all day about their backs hurting because they "slept wrong?"

It was explained to me that this massage therapy was for rehabilitation, not relaxation. So, in the future if you have a dog who needs to rehab from a surgery or injury, I might have a specialist I can recommend.

The D stands for awesome!

It's been said that you can't give yourself a nickname. In an episode of Seinfeld George Costanza tries to get people to call him "T-Bone" only to end up with the nickname "Gammy." In my youth I once tried to get people to call me "Doc" because my first two initials are D.R. No one ever called me "Doc."

That's not to say I didn't have a nickname or two growing up. Since my full name is Donald and my incredibly handsome twin brother's full name is Ronald we heard our share of Ronald McDonald variations. And yes, we've heard them all.

(And just to clear up a common joke: we were often told that if we'd been triplets the "other one" could have been named Mack so it would be Ronald, Mack, Donald. My response: Look, genius, it's not MacDonald's, it's McDonald's. The "other one" would have been named Mick. Get the joke right.)

Some classmates used to call me Onald to ensure they were never calling me by the wrong name. An older kid in the neighborhood used to call Ron and I "Ding" and "Dong" which was actually one of my favorite nicknames. And my dad still refers to me as Ronald-Donald because he likes to pretend he doesn't know which one I am.

Recently, however, I was able to give myself a nickname that stuck. At my job we did a lot of software demos (and still do). It involved calling a conference number and logging into a meeting application such as WebEx or LiveMeeting. When someone was doing a demo they would have to share their desktop with the other attendees. To do that, the moderator or the most recent presenter would have to scroll through the names of the attendees and make them a presenter. If there was a lot of people in the list it sometimes took several minutes to find the name of the next presenter.

So I decided to do the old phone book trick of signing in with an "A" name, ensuring my name would be near the top of the list, and making it easier to find. The name I used: Awesome Don.

Over the course of several months and many, many demos that name stuck. Perhaps it was for ironic reasons (like calling a bald man Curly), but it stuck nonetheless. And recently, the nickname has spilled out into life outside of work. People ask me how I got that name, and I could tell them the boring truth (like I just did), or I could make up a fantastic story about doing something truly awesome.

Or I could just tell them that my name is Don, and the D stands for awesome!

And for that, I give thanks

Thanksgiving is around the corner, a time when people remember all the blessings in their lives. However, there are people who aren't satisfied with what they have. They think that if only they had a little more, then they'd be thankful. It's always easy to focus on what we don't have.

Today, I was riding on the local hike-n-bike trail. For most of the ride I was lost in thought, thinking about problems that needed to be worked out, bills that needed to paid, and chores that needed to be done. I wasn't paying attention to the beautiful weather, the red and brown leaves scattered along the trail, or any other blessings in plain sight.

On one part of the trail a woman was walking with her dog and not doing a good job of staying to one side of the trail. I sighed, slightly put out because she was blocking my path. I politely said "on your left" to let her know I was passing, and she scooted over with a bright smile and a cheery "oh, sorry."

It was then that I realized that there's a good chance she was blind.

It was not one of my finer moments. So for the rest of my ride, I thought about the things I had: my sight, my hearing, my overall health. I have a good job, a roof over my head, a mostly well-behaved dog, and a cat that tolerates me. I get to play the sports I enjoy, and my church choir doesn't mind having me as a member. My family gets along with each other and is only slightly dysfunctional, but in a good way. My life is full of people who genuinely care about my well-being.

And for that, I give thanks.