THE GUARD

I never lifeguarded. The closest I ever came was when a bud and I painted the swimming pool at Green Hills when we were collegians. He was a guard there and a much better swimmer than I.

But I suppose I did lifeguard earlier this week. I didn't have the big chair. I didn't have the sun because it was at an indoor pool. But I had 6 kids to watch. I also had some help: my wife.

Good thing, too. Because I went to sleep. Which is darned easy for me to do. All could swim except our 14-month old, but CQ had close watch on her until my nap was over.

The bigger kids were diving where they weren't supposed to. But I'm a grandad and that in itself calls for letting them do what they're probably not supposed to do. Or as our 12 year-old granddaughter said, "They were short, so it didn't matter." I really didn't see any swan dives; mainly cannonballs, some head firsts but not deep, more like a gliding head-first which our granddaughter, the tallest of the three girls couldn't quite perfect.

But what in my sleepy eyes was ok, I kept thinking, how in the world do real lifeguards stay awake? I didn't even have the warming rays of ol' sol to further weaken me. Of course, they have the protection of sunglasses, so maybe they do catch some zzzs along with their rays.

It's a good thing I wasn't a strong enough swimmer to lifeguard. I'm afraid if I'd had a real lifeguard chair, that I might have fallen from it being awakened by a too exuberant cry of "Marco Polo"and I would have tumbled along with the chair as in The Sandlot.

NIGHT LIGHT

It spewed. Molten orange lava from the Fimmvorduhals volano near Reykjakik, Iceland. Illuminating a northern sky.

So, my question of the day is what incident in your life caused you to erupt? Not just an explosive tirade. Nor an outburst that you later wished undone. I'm talking about the mother of all rage?

You may have to roll that query over in your mind for awhile. It may go back to childhood. It may have been manifested in high school or college. It may have been work related, family related, or happenstance simply caused by some circumstance over which you had no control.

But the outlet, the release wasn't all that different from Fimmvorduhals. The intense pressure had to be released in lashing out of some kind. Anger is like that. Blowing a gasket is necessary when counting to 10 or 100 won't help.

I've thrown my share of tantrums. Fortunately most have been at the expense of inanimate objects. Mechanical things are near the top. The number of lawnmowers that I couldn't keep running outnumber vacuums but only slightly. They both have endured my wrath.

But I think my volcano was reached back in 1969 when tv announced draft numbers. Since we were involved in a conflict; at least I don't believe Congress officially called it a war in Viet Nam, and even with the largest population of youth ever in the Baby Boomer generation, recruits were not running to enlist in the military. The draft was in vogue, so when it was announced that my birthday had been selected as the ninth number, which meant certain induction, I went volcano.

I walked out into the yard, saying a variety of Joe Biden choice words and I hit the biggest tree in our yard with my fist. I mean I punched it like it was a soft bellied opponent. How I didn't break my hand, I still don't know. But I never have hit or thought about hitting a tree again.

So I stayed in college and made my grades so I wouldn't be drafted. I taught school for a few years before they took way teacher deferments. Fortunately the conflict ended before my deferment.

I stuck around the school for 27 more years. I think I served my country. I even got wounded by a high school student who shot me with a high powered Chinese air rifle while I was on the picket line. No one told me it was a firing line. I didn't know the kid; he really didn't know me. But I bet he was some kind of Druid; some kind of tree lover. Just getting even.

WHAT NO PICTURES?



Not till tomorrow when computer repairs will be finished. Sometimes I wonder if I get more enjoyment or have more frustrations with the computer. Right now I'd say it's slightly in favor of enjoyment. Slightly.



You see, I'm just too fast for the computer and if it for some reason, the computer can't catch up, then I have a talk with it. But it's not been listening.



"How many of you understand? Raise your hands?"



That's what a juco history instructor was known for. He'd ask his students to show they understood by their show of hands. For the first few days, every paw would be raised sky high. A believer in this sound educational principle, Windy Dare asked this question in the form of a command about 4 times per period. After two class sessions, most caught on and quit elevating their hands.

It was more like a clearing of the throat, Mr. Dare's request. Not a pregnant pause but a habit like athletes interviewed on tv, "Well, you know, we just like, you know, are taking these games one game at a time, you know." A repetitious ritual signifying nothing.

But one of grade school buds stuck with Windy. Even the last week of the semester, Larry was still raising his hand. And he was solo by then. I hope he aced the class, and he should have if he really understood everything he said he did.

That was back in the days before accountability. I suppose now it might be a good way to prove that you were concerned about student achievement. "When I asked them if they understood, they all raised their hands." Yessiree, Mr. Dare was a man with a vision. Understand?

THE LOTTERY

Shirley Jackson's great short story was one of the highlights of my American Lit class. Until grade school teachers started stealing my thunder and teaching it in middle schools. It wasn't a wise choice on their part for the story deals with some maturation issues that only come with life experiences. Plus, it ruined it for my class.

Other lotteries such as State Lotteries for big bucks and big losses are for suckers. No one wins, except the states and we all know how honest they are. "We'll use the money from lottery tickets to fund education to the level that we couldn't afford without the lottery," is what Illinoisans were sold before instituting its gambling wild shot in the dark games three decades ago. Did the state see an increase in education spending? Nope. If they indeed used money for education from lottery sales, then they took away an equal or more amount from the general fund.

Now we are coming to the end of brackets and another NCAA basketball tourney. Only 4 teams remain. When 16 remained there were only 12 people out of nearly 5 million who had correctly selected the top 16 and submitted their choices to Fox Sports. I wonder how many of those 12 are still in the running? Is it a lottery? Kind of.

I heard of a place in Illinois where for $9,500 you could place a bet on one of the top seeds to win the tourney. The pay off--$37,000. Only one of the four remain. If the gambler chose any other top seed than Duke, he could kiss almost 10 thou good-bye.

I usually don't take the advice of a friend and former MTV High head coach who never cheered for the underdog because they had no pressure on them. I'm more like my co-owner in fantasy football who says he is riveted to the tourney this year because of so many upsets. I'd love to see Butler win it all.

Did I pick them. No. I picked Duke. But it didn't cost me a dime. And I won't collect if they win. But winning the lottery isn't always a good thing. Is it Ms. Jackson?

THE DIVERSION

We've been very fortunate to have traveled as much as we have without incident. Others who have been with us have had lost luggage overseas and some have been robbed, one couple mugged. For their Rolexes. Maybe that's why we've been spared; we don't have anything worth burgling. Well, at least not on our person.

Which brings me to fanny packs. And how they got that name. To me they're belly packs. Just advertising--"here's where I keep my valuables. Right here around my waist. So if you need to accost me, you'll know where to search." I never understood them.

But one Friday night in Gdansk, Poland, three of us were sitting at an outdoor cafe when a young woman asked me for a light for her dangling cigarette. I told her I had none. At the same time two little kids approached one of our tables. While all this was going on, yet another tried to lift the purse of our friend. Also a savvy traveler, she clutched her purse which was close at hand and nothing became of it.

A clever diversion for one of us while working the kids to distract the other two. No harm; no foul. But a tale worth repeating to avoid being taken in. Plus, if you're bound and determined to wear a fanny pack, be sure there's nothing too valuable in there.

THE APPEAL
We almost went to Cuba last Winter. In fact had the opportunity presented itself just a little sooner to us, then we would have gone there.

Along with 15 others. It would have been legal, no going around our country's restrictions about travel there. It would technically have been under the guidelines for providing humanitarian aid, taking hospital and medical supplies to Havana. But actually, we'd have only been along for the ride. We may have had to lift and carry, but we never got that close to finding out.

Why I would want to go is the same reason I like to go to other places. If Sir Edmond Hillary said, "Because it's there," I guess I could borrow his sentiment. I might add, and "because I've never been there ."

One big draw to me would be to see all the old American cars as in the picture. Man, we used to make some beautiful cars For a variety of reasons, we don't anymore. Nor does anyone else. They're better made. At least some. No car in bygone days got much over 100,000 miles. Not so today. Fuel efficiency, safety--well there's no comparison. But for beauty and style, those old cars ruled.

The past would also be a huge draw. Not just cars, but Cuba, at least to me, is the one place that hasn't changed much since the ill-fated Castro revolution. Times were bad before: they're still awful for the citizens, but again to see how things were 50, 60, almost 70 years ago would be interesting to me.

And knowing that you would be helping people. I shouldn't have placed that third, but some of my former students would tell you that in writing the traditional 5-paragraph theme, sometimes it is advisable to present your most important information just before your conclusion. Just as in a speech. Unless you're a great speaker who can simply say nothing and use reflection and emphasis in unusual places for the Obama effect. (I know I've been rough with the Prez this week, but I'm still waiting for him to do something that I agree with; then I'll give him the accolades). So, I'll just say that helping them would certainly be rewarding even though it would appear that I was simply going along for the ride.

If the opportunity avails itself again, I might go. But there are lots of folks who need help. And there are a lot of attractions. So Cuba, you'll just have to wait..