There are two kinds of people in history…

I have been away for a while.  I believe at is or a similar phrase are the beginnings of most of my posts.  It is true though, I was taken away by my School.  Ah yes I have completed my first year of college.  For a high school dropout who has actually realized the dream of using my military benefits to better myself (in my opinion), it is fairly amazing to be attending college and by some miracle coming out on the Dean’s list for both semesters so far.  I know that it is a very long road to be sure, but when you say a year is down, then the next three do not seem all that long.  We have had a good year here.  I am behind in posting the journal posts, but the idea is that I am not going to go back and type them all out.  What counts is that they are in the journal for my family to read, not that they end up in here, all further ones will be posted.  The idea is not to spend all my time in life rerecording, just the once will do.

I will give a brief recap.  There was a second post about camping.  There is a rather good entry espousing to my son(s) the dedication that you have show if you wish to succeed at anything.  That little gym was written at about 0300 one night when I stayed up to do homework rather than working on it while Liam was awake.

I want the boys to see that you must be prepared to sacrifice if you want to succeed.  You have to be ready to skip movies, concerts, sleep.  I managed my goals this semester, I kept my grades up and I still managed to spend time with my family.  Liam has been in daycare the few days that I am class and it has done him a world of good.  He has learned at a faster rate than he would have cooped up with me.  The baby is due in February and I had intended to take the semester off.  However my advisor has asked me to take at least one online history course and Katie believes that I should keep moving as well.  Our family has come through in fine fashion to help us get through the coming semester as I have been offered (and hopefully will get) the chance to be a student instructor in history.  That is the kind of thing that grad school applications are made of as my grades and high school drop out will only walk me so far.

Our family had a nice Christmas.  Our pajama theme was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

The day before Christmas Liam became sick.  We have all had a cold, but Liam’s got worse.  I hoped he would kick it but he didn’t and two days later it was apparent that he had pneumonia.  We were going to make him an appointment Monday morning, but during the night he kept getting worse.  At 0430 I finally took him to the hospital.  It was there that they confirmed that he had pneumonia.

The raging fever, accelerated hear rate, trouble breathing, the infection…this could have been a death sentence a relatively short time in history ago.  That is what leads me to my main point.  In some parts of the world today, pneumonia, especially in children, is still a death sentence.  We were at the hospital for maybe an hour and a half. Basic medicine (which we had at home, and were already using) to bring the fever down, couple of chest x-rays to confirm the diagnoses, and a dose of and prescription for antibiotics, and we were on our way, with the certainty that my son would survive the night.  It is only my studies of medicine and history, I feel, that make me sensitive to what a modern miracle that is.  I walked out thinking “everyone should have that.”  That is where the point of this post begins.

Firstly I have always had a bent towards history, and realized my passion in an epiphany when trying to pick my major.  However our long educations make us insensitive to certain things.  I have the theory that in history there are two kinds of people: Historical Figures and just Figures.  Your historical figures are someone remembered.  We will work with examples like Jamestown colony.  We know names like Captain John Smith, he is a historical figure.  However your “figures”are just that, they are numbers.  From elementary school onward we learn things like “over half the colonists died of…” the figures were worse than that, but you get the idea.  The death figures we read over, to us they are facts and figures.  We get accustom to them, and our currently low mortality rates do not help us to think of the ones in the past as being something that borders on fiction.  It is true that a certain normalcy forms when something happens often enough.  A situation in Brazil proved that maternal instinct is more cultural construct than it is total instinct, in that it can be overridden by prolonged and truly desperate circumstances. They were people though, starving, freezing, dying of disease.  They were husbands, wives, CHILDREN.  They were peoples children.  Children died too.  We forget to think about when we read “children that survived to adulthood.”  Let that sink in.  You may have seen my graveyard posts.  The end of all anti vaccine arguments is “I am sorry that you enjoy being able to name your children before they are six.”  We are not so far into a time when children don’t just die.  At least to the people reading this.  That is the second half.

My studies have made me aware of problems in the world.  I knew about them, more than the common man anyhow, due to service in Iraq, seeing the people so poor they didn’t eat enough.  I won’t go into all the details, but with my school I’ve realized it isn’t just war zones.  There are places where people just do not have anything.  If their children had gotten the same sickness that my son had and I consider it minor, their child would be dead.  I am grateful that my son has that, but I am aware of the imbalance in the world.  My son lives, countless die.  I avoid things like commercials of the kids starving because I know I cannot do enough, like I could not do enough in Iraq.  The weight of millions bares down on me.  Past and present.  I ignore the fact that I enjoy the products of this situation.  I sit here on my fancy made in China computer, wearing my Singapore and Vietnam clothes not knowing if they get a decent wage or if they are modern slaves.  The more I study the more the weight heaves on thinking about how there are children forced to be soldiers.  Someone posted an article saying minority children in America do not get to be children.  Fine that may be true in some cases (race put aside) but I wonder if the ones saying we must broaden our thoughts want to broaden far enough to the places where nine year olds carry AK-47’s.  I am thankful my son had a hospital and care and insurance, and I wish everyone had that, but I have this fight club moment when I sit on my Ikea couch and wonder if the guilt will win, or if I just accept that is the way it is?  We journey on, but we wonder, will we always have it so good?

Hrolf the Ganger

When you look up the mountain…

I should be doing more homework right now, but I got it all done last week end, which you will see why that is impressive and I should not be worried now.  Ive gotten a good bit done tonight and now I want to sit down and do a couple of entries that I think have been a long time coming.  First lets hit the journal and then the rest will follow.


9-23-2015

We did it.  Keith and I joined the Spartan TriFecta tribe by completing the spartan beast at Killington, Vermont.  This is the birthplace of the beast and the medal says as much.  The first photo on the previous page is of Keith and I right before the race.

 Before this I had done spartan races already (two of them anyhow), and then I met Keith at the Natick Church of Christ.  I decided that this year I was going to get my trifecta so that I could get most of it done while school was out for the summer and before critter (child 2) gets here.  I invited some guys to come with me and Keith took me up on the offer.  He also said if he started this he was going to finish it.  He just wanted to go ahead and get the trifecta as well.  This is the kind of guy you need by your side in these kinds of messes.

 Three races later and the trifecta is in the bag.  Let us just be frank, for a guy who calls himself Hrolf the Ganger (Hrolf the big walker), the day on that mountain was one of the longest days of my life, and for a soldier that is saying something in my opinion.  Estimated 15-16 miles of mountainous hell, designed by Norm Koch (I now understand the patches that say effnorm).  I will not bother to hash out all the details about the water, and all the other stuff that made this race into a Stalingrad dumpster fire, if you were there then you know.

 What I will say is that I have never wanted to quit something so badly in my life.  At some points going up that mountain it got down to hiking for one minute and stopping for 3 or 4 to rub the cramps out of my legs.  Another fun thing is when you get to the top of a (loose) cargo net and suddenly your core decides to turn into one big cramp.  It was so tight, that may have been the best abs I’ve ever had…you know pain aside and it being a ball of contracted muscle.  I may have gotten my first successful spear throw here (yes on the little one.  still counts.  no burpees.)  None of this changes the fact that my marathon runner of a partner could have gone on faster without me.  He bested the herculean lift and sled pull this time which really nixes the parts of the race where I am a beneficial team member.  No matter how many times I told him to go on, go finish, he wouldn’t do it, even when we were facing cut offs, even when I was on the last big hill dry heaving with thirty minutes left and a mile to go he would not just go.  He is the best friend you could want on the mountain.

 I was able to chug on.  He and I kept to our normal pattern of helping people when we could.  There was a guy named Mike having a panic attack.  He had gotten really dehydrated and decided there was no way out of the woods and they that continued up hill forever as some kind of bizarre purgatory.   Medical wouldn’t get there in time to calm him down, so we got him sipping water and led him off the mountain literally by the hand.  When we got to the bottom, thankfully it was a water point, we had to give him the bad news that he was done.  We had to tell him he couldn’t go back out, he was dehydrated and the moment he saw another up hill in the woods it would all happen again (there was one not 500 feet after that water point) and there was still 3 miles of race to go.

 
To the point, Killington was filled with soul crushing.  I had accepted six hours before we finished that we were not going to make cut offs.  I was quite confident that given all the time we needed we could make the end of the course, but there wasn’t time.  However training kicked in, which really means imagine that you just can’t stop and go stupid for a while and keep moving.  Having a good buddy doesn’t hurt either.  Somehow we kept passing the cutoffs, sometimes within minutes.  In the end suddenly the fire jump was in sight and we crossed that finish line with twelve minutes left.  twelve minutes.  We were out there for twelve hours fourteen minutes.  There were 100 more after us.  We did it.  We left some things that needed to die out there on that mountain.  Katie was at the finish line, towel draped over her shoulders cheering us on.  She was a real trooper having to hang out and wait all day.  The mountain was ours.  I think I rediscovered some parts of myself that had lain dormant for a while.

 Moving on, while I was recovering I still needed to take some friends for exercise.  I took them Geocaching as that was about all I was up for.  This also gave me a chance to get a picture of Liam at the grave yard for the journal, he is at the graves of the Rice family, at Robin Hill cemetery.

 The third is simply a picture of him helping me with the garbage.  Seems dull I know, but this is what we do.  We help each other.  Garbage is one of his favorite things to help with.  He is currently very excited because Halloween decorations are already going up.

  
Halloween is one of our favorite holidays.  With a kid you have to split the movie festival into two portions.  The part the kid can watch, and the part that would classify as child abuse if you let them watch.  Casper is one of our staple movies.  It being twenty years old this year makes this a great moment to reflect about this movie.  I remember going to see this movie in theaters with my Grandmother Vicki.  I remember that pizza hut had a bunch of rubber glow in the dark puppets of the ghosts (I had casper).  Every year around this time I have to fight the urge to pile all this kind of crap up off of eBay.  I remember my buddy Danny Armstrong and I at the neighborhood pool discussing the bad words that were featured in Casper.  I remember my grandmother calling for showtimes in front of the sink of the cabin she and my grandfather lived at.  Not long after it came out I got the VHS and I’ve kept this movie close ever since.

 Reflection and making things to reflect upon is the point of this.  We need anchor points that we can share and call constant.

end.

There you have it.  This one is not very adventurous, but the life of a late comer college student and family man is not always exciting.  Homework, papers, repeat.  I may have beaten the mountain but it does not look like I will be able to beat remedial math. Tomorrow is several events which I am sure you will see all about.

Hrolf the Ganger

P.S. the halloween movie count stands as such.

Kid friendly: Hocus Pocus, Casper

With Carl: Halloween,2,4,5,6,H20

Alone: Scream,2

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑