Cardinal Red to Funeral Black

"It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone".

-- Bart Giamatti, former MLB Commissioner, from "The Green Fields of the Mind" in the Yale Alumnus Magazine during his tenure as Yale President in 1977.

I love the above-referenced quote, but I despise using it. It's never used in happy connotations; only the sad, morose, deeply tragic moments of life. This is no different.

Very early today, journeyman starter and long reliever Josh Hancock, who only last year became a St. Louis Cardinal, died in a violent traffic accident along Highway 40 in St. Louis. Hancock's Ford Explorer struck nearly full force the rear of a 20,000+-pound tow truck in the far left lane of westbound 40. Hancock, from all reports, died instantly, but not before perhaps seeing the tow truck and at the last minute - but sadly too late - attempting to turn away from the fatality.

I write today not with the doubly grief stricken heart with which I posted five years ago on our family's now defunct website, facing the deaths of two Cardinals so close to one another. So many are citing the feeling we had with the sudden and unexpected loss of Cardinals' ace Darryl Kile in June of 2002, who died as a result of a coronary artery blockage in a Chicago hotel room. But I would submit that Kile's death was so much more tragic because just days before, Cardinal Nation faced the horrible loss of longtime announcer Jack Buck, accepted by millions as one of the leaders of Cardinal Nations, the true voice of our summers for so many generations.

But today, as St. Louis Post-Dispatch columnist Bernie Miklasz so correctly wrote in his column, while this isn't two times the grief we faced two years ago, this moment still reopened old wounds from Kile's (and Buck's) death that really had never healed. Not to downplay Jack's death, but he'd lived a long & fulfilling life, and he'd been ill for some time prior to his passing. Kile's death was sudden, literally shaking fans and disinterested onlookers in much the same way - a young man in the prime of his life who just days before had been on display, showing the amazing God-given talents he'd been provided. And then, like a lightning bolt, we were jerked from the escapism of professional sports back to the reality of the fragile nature of life. We're guaranteed nothing, short of forever in Heaven with Jesus if we're saved. Beyond that, everything's a crap shoot.

Five years is a long time. Five years ago, our oldest son was just 2 1/2 and David was still a newborn barely able to coo. But in one flash, one blink of an eye, it was June of 2002 all over again. Another Cardinal-Cub matchup called off because of a player's tragic and sudden death. Kile's was untimely, but we're told, hopefully peaceful. Hancock's was the spectrum opposite - violent and more than likely at least momentarily painful.

Should there be an upside to this - and we struggle to locate one - it's that Hancock leaves no wife, no kids behind. I still remember the images burned into my head of Flynn Kile with her two children by her side at the memorial for Darryl in the old Busch Stadium a few days after his death. Somehow, when the old Busch Stadium was torn down, I think we all hoped the memories of a player's death and subsequent moment of silence or memorial service were distant memories.

Unfortunately, just five short, short years later, we face those memories again.

Hancock won't ever be remembered as a star with the Cardinals. The standing ovations rarely - if ever - came his way. To a man, there's no one in Cardinal Nation who would - with an ounce of honesty about them - claim that Hancock received the same ovation received by a Chris Carpenter or an Albert Pujols.

But no one can claim he's not due the same amount of respect.

In Tupelo, Mississippi, his hometown, Hancock's mom and dad are already preparing for a day no parent should ever be forced to face...the day of their son's funeral.

As a parent, I can't even begin to imagine the pain they're feeling at this moment. May God have mercy on his blood family and his professional family over the next few days, weeks, months, and years.

How odd...just hours earlier at church - still unaware of the horrible news from St. Louis - several friends and I had separate conversations with the same general tone: "Are you worried about the Cardinals this year?" To a man, I answered, "Yes, I'm getting there pretty quickly."

I'm still worried about them, but for a much different set of reasons.

Again, for the second time in five years, fans are paying tribute at the Musial statue outside of Busch, and Cardinal Nation is draped in Funeral Black.

A conversation with David

Lately my youngest son has been talking more than normal. Or maybe I've been listening more than normal. Either way, there's been a lot of talking going on.

David is 5. I know that because he tells everyone that when they see him.

I wanted to give you a glimpse into the world of David. This is a conversation I had with him just this morning. When you read this, stand on your tiptoes, wander around the room, and talk really really fast:

David: Mommy, the B says buh as in ball and bat. Can I have an apple? Cause I really like apples.

Me: Sure, Dav...

David: Can I have some marshmallows too? They are all different colors, are they? The S says ssss as in snake and sun. A, B, C, D, - Mommy, do you like marshmallows?

Me: Well, David, I gue...

David: Mommy, can I play a vieo game today? (d missing on purpose) Can I watch cartoons? Mommy, are you almost done with my apple? Can you put it in a bowl, Mommy? Are you listening, Mommy?

Me: Yes, David. I'm listening. Here is your apple.

David: Can I have some chocolatey chocolate milk? It tastes really, really good, does it? Mommy, I can't carry all these things. Will you put the marshmallows in a different bowl? First I pick up the chocolatey chocolate milk, then the apple, then the marshmallows. Carefully, carefully carry my stuff. I got it, Mommy. Thank you, Mommy.

Me: Sure, David.

Now, David is gone before he hears me say anything to him. I think he's gone on to play, but then he comes back.

David: I haven't had any love from you this day, Mommy. (big hug and kiss from my amazing 5-year-old). I love you, Mommy.

Me: I love you too, David.

I love my friends

The weekend after Easter, a very dear friend of ours visited from a land far, far away. We call this land Colorado.

Anyway, I've been thinking about what I want to say regarding this visit for some time. You know what was so awesome about it? We didn't do anything exciting. We hung out, ate some spaghetti, and just visited. It was great to laugh with her and just do nothing.

We don't get the chance to do that as often as we should anymore. We're too busy. Or everything has to be planned. Why can't we just do something off the cuff and be spontaneous once in a while?

Now granted, we knew she was coming. But we just wanted to spend time with her, find out about her new life in Colorado, and fill her in on our lives here. So rather than fill our time with her with something to do, we just sat down in the living room and had one of the best afternoons we've had in a long time.

I understand that sometimes we need to plan for things. You can't spend your entire life going from thing to thing with no idea of what's going to happen next. Some areas of your life must be planned out. I'm just saying that a full calendar doesn't mean a full life.

The kids are growing up

My kids are growing up. I know this not because of the fact that they're getting taller, get dressed on their own, or potty (YES!) but because of this one simple fact.

My purse is clean.

I know that sounds strange, but go with me on this one.

The other day I bought a wallet. I was tired of my money being in a bank envelope and having my driver's license wander aimlessly around the inside of my purse. Now, everyone knows that when you buy a new wallet you have to clean out your purse. At least all my Type A friends know this and those Type B people out there, you now have a project.

Anyway, so I'm going through the contents of my purse and I realized something. There were no cars, super heroes, bouncy balls, or toy guns in my purse. There were also no candy wrappers, Cheerios, Bubblicious, or melted chocolate there either.

When the kids were really little, I had all those things in my purse and more. I needed the huge purse in order to carry around all the things my children got tired of carrying whenever we went somewhere.

Now my things are lost in the chasm known as my purse. It's kind of sad, until I realized something.

I can now fill it with lipstick, my address book, some gum for ME, and other fun stuff that I used to put in there BC - before children.

Even after doing that there's still a little bit of room in there for the occasional stray toy that happens my way - just in case.

Climate Change please?

This is ridiculous. I am so ready for winter to end.

I usually am pretty hardcore when it comes to being well. For example, I've only missed about 1-2 sick days in the past 3 years or so. Up thru recently, I've been pretty blessed with nothing more than a runny nose or the like.

Then this winter happened...

So far this year, I've had a bout with the respiratory flu, strep throat, an ear infection, back spasms, and now a sinus infection sooooo bad it brought on a complete matching set of pink eye. Nothing better than waking up on this past Wednesday morning when I was set to be at an economic development meeting but not being able to see the clock because my eye was matted shut.

Oooh. Now that just screams contagion. Yeah, baby - come shake MY hand. Let me wipe my eye first, though.

What's made me so ill this winter? Say it with me...

...Global Warming.

Oh, yes - and that third arm, growing out of my head.

Thriller!

In class today, my students presented two group presentations - they both were absolutely awesome, and they'll be fodder for a later post. But long story short, one of the groups showed part of Michael Jackson's Thriller video for their presentation on the 80s.

Well, of course I tried to relive my childhood and go to YouTube and find the video clip they used. I found it, but look what else I found...



A clip for clip reproduction. That is AWESOME!

Mom My Ride

There should be a Blue Book for Parents at all car dealerships.

Jack Bauer: The man, the myth, the legend

Let me say first, I'm as hetro as it gets. However, I'm secure enough in my manhood to admit I have one HUGE man crush on Jack Bauer. You know Jack, right? 24's lead agent who, in at least 6 televised days, has yet to go to the bathroom or brush his teeth (ewwwww). But I'm tellin' you, I'm hooked.

Back to that reply email thing from a few posts past, I received an email recently with some "Jack Bauer truths". These are just a few of my favorites:

Jack Bauer let the dogs out.

1.6 billion Chinese are angry with Jack Bauer. Sounds like a fair fight.

Jack Bauer doesn't miss. If he didn't hit you it's because he was shooting at another terrorist twelve miles away.

If Jack and MacGyver were locked in a room together, Jack would make a bomb out of MacGyver and get out.

Superman wears Jack Bauer pajamas.

When Google can't find something, it asks Jack Bauer for help.

Jack Bauer got Hellen Keller to talk.

People with amnesia still remember Jack Bauer.

When the boogie man goes to sleep, he checks his closet for Jack Bauer.

Jack Bauer once won a game of Connect 4 in 3 moves.

Jack Bauer can get McDonald's breakfast after 10:30.

And, not to be outdone, here are some of the BEST actual quotes from CTU's most famous agent:

"If you don't tell me what I want to know, then it'll just be a question of how much you want it to hurt."

"The only reason that you're conscious right now is because I don't want to carry you."

"I'm gonna need a hacksaw." (You don't want to know the context...)

"What's going on? You mean besides a 747 falling out of the sky and a threat on a presidential candidate's life?"

"I'm the last thing you will ever see if anything happens to my wife or my daughter."

And, quite possibly my favorite: "You have no idea how far I am willing to go to acquire your cooperation."

Holy Crap!

I heard this the other day on the Paul Harris show on KMOX in St. Louis...I'll comment after the text of the story, courtesy MyWay news:

VA Patient Has Wrong Testicle Removed

Apr 4, 11:43 PM (ET)

LOS ANGELES (AP) - An Air Force veteran has filed a federal claim after an operation at a Veterans Administration hospital in which a healthy testicle was removed instead of a potentially cancerous one.

Benjamin Houghton, 47, was to have had his left testicle removed June 14 at the West Los Angeles VA Medical Center because there was a chance it could harbor cancer cells. It also was atrophied and painful.

But doctors mistakenly removed the right testicle, according to medical records and the claim, which seeks $200,000 for future care and unspecified damages. He still hasn't had the other testicle removed.

"At first I thought it was a joke," Houghton told the Los Angeles Times. "Then I was shocked. I told them, 'What do I do now?'"

Houghton, his wife, Monica, and their attorney, Dr. Susan Friery, said they hoped to get the VA's attention by going public with the situation.

Dr. Dean Norman, chief of staff for the Greater Los Angeles VA system, has formally apologized to Houghton and his wife.

"We are making every attempt that we can to care for Mr. Houghton, but it's in litigation, and that's all we can tell you," he said. The hospital changed practices as a result of the case, he added.

My comment? I believe it was Paul Harris who said when his wife went in for knee surgery last year, he watched the doctors walk over to her right before surgery and write "YES" on the knee to be operated on and "NO" on the good knee.

What do you want to bet, no matter what type of dimensia I may eventually get, I remember this little ditty?

Quick replies

Just to let each of you know who've emailed and written to us recently, this is Scott typing, and I'd like to admit to a weary public that I'm horrible. Absolutely horrible.

I read each of your emails, trust me. I do read them.

Though you'd never know it.

So, I thought I'd take some time here to do some mass replies right here:

Angels can be friends, I agree.

I love the Easter Story cookies.

I treasure my civil liberties as well.

Yes, 100,000 lawyers at the bottom of the sea is a good start (sorry to all my lawyer friends).

No, I've not sent this on to 18 people in the 32.8 minutes after I read your email; I doubt anything will appear on my screen.

Red, and Huey Lewis & the News.

Bill Gates isn't contacting me to give me a cold, more or less $1 million.

There is NO Bill 602P, and Congress is not angling to tax emails. If and when they do, I'll sign your petition.

It's a week into the season, and I'm not concerned.

Yes.

No.

Five.

Of course.

Not this time.

I'm married, but thank you for the offer.

I don't need your club; I'm satisfied with my hair (or lack thereof) right now.

There's no way you can offer me that & still make a profit, so no.

I don't need "Bob" or any of his pills. Get back to me in 20 years or so.

There are no "toxic fumes" from pumpkins (I promise, I got one like this).

Now that I've got that off of my chest, I can go back to ignoring you.

A Servant's Heart

We've said for a long time we've been blessed with the way Jonathan & David handle situations. Both of them are pretty mature for their age, and we never cease to be amazed at the size of their hearts. Today - Easter Sunday - was no exception.

During the service, our pastor gave a children's sermon to the kids in attendance. Through the course of the sermon, he gave the kids a few items, one of which was a cross, another was a piece of candy, and another was a thin, solitary dime for each child who came up front for the children's sermon. This lit up Jonathan's morning. He's all about the Benjamins...or in this case, the Roosevelts.

Later, following the sermon and invitation, we were taking the offfering, and right in front of Jonathan - all of 7 years old - passed the offering plate. Jonathan, completely without prompting or even a look or head nod, took his one dime, dropped it into the offering plate, & passed it on through the pew.

I know it's just 10 cents, but that's a servant's heart. I had two diverse and completely spectrum opposite lines race through my head. Shakespeare wrote, and Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka later said, "So shines a good deed in a weary world."

However, there's a passage more meaningful...

"Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven." - Matthew 18:3 (NKJV, just because I wanna tick off the traditionalists...)

Don't get me wrong - we give sacrificially to our church, both financially and with our talents & time. But to see him do that with no prompting, no anything...it felt wonderful and fulfilling as his father, yet somewhat empty when I think about the times I let the plate pass by, both figuratively & literally. When it comes down to it, church isn't hard...though we make it that way more times than not. If my seven year old grasps it in a way that puts us all to shame...well...I pray we all may be about His business in a way that'd truly make Him point to us and say with absolute pride what I was thinking this morning:

I love my boys.

The Morning Guy

Often times, this is what Tammy says it's like living with me.

Not because of my radio experience, but simply because - say it with me - I never will shut up.

Pay every bit of attention to the man behind the curtain...

Just saw one of the funniest videos I've ever seen in a while. Brings back a lot of memories, esepcially with my love of Disney.

And yet again, another award show I never knew existed...

I love sarcasm

For those of you who don't know, I worked for five years in local radio on-air on three jointly-owned stations. My degrees (undergrad & grad) are in communication, and I have a great affinity for St. Louis talk radio, whether it be the mighty MOX (The Voice of St. Louis, KMOX) or the Cards' flagship, the Big 550 (KTRS). Paul Harris is a vet of both, and he currently hosts the Paul Harris Show weekdays from 2-6 PM on KMOX AM 1120. He also has a blog he updates several times daily at www.harrisonline.com - let me recommend it - it's a great read.

With all that said, here's possibly the funniest yet most bold and truthful blog entry I've read in a long time, again, available at www.harrisonline.com from Friday, February 9, 2007...as you may recall, this is the day Anna Nicole Smith died, just days after NASA astronaut Lisa Nowak went ape and drove in a diaper from Houston to Orlando in a love-induced haze...

"An Apology

Dear Crazy Astronaut,

We're sorry we can't continue to exploit your story any further, but a rich large-breasted stripper has died, and we have to devote all our resources to showing clips of her drunk and speculating on which loser impregnated her last.

Sincerely,
The 24-Hour News Networks and Tabloid Shows"

Paula is nuts

"Forever Your Girl"

"Straight Up"

"Cold Hearted Snake"

"Opposites Attract"

"The Way That You Love Me"

Wow. It's like a walk down the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame's Greatest Hits aisle, isn't it?

When looking back at these deep, penetrating, musical messages from the 80s and 90s, is there any surprise that Paula Abdul's cotton candy singing translated over into her cotton candy reviews in "American Idol"? I usually only watch the train wreck auditions and turn off the show when it gets to the weekly elimination stuff...I mean, I watch auto racing for a nice crash and a car fire, and that's pretty much the equivalent quotient I look for in Idol.

I was sitting here tonight, listening to these potential stars sing for the American public and the Idol judges. I usually agree with Simon when I've heard him comment on people's singing abilities. Randy's usually pretty accurate.

And then there's Paula.

I don't know what kind of anti-depressants she's taking or freaky positive-thought guru-led cult she's a member of, but I really think someone could get up there, sing the National Anthem with a Ben Stein monotone, and she'd applaud their "individuality". I could literally wet myself and she'd applaud my wanting to break out of the mold and try something new. I could melt down into some kind of Jamie Lee Curtis-screeching movie heroine on stage, and she'd say my voice is penetrating and attention-getting.

This woman needs an intervention.

I'm not saying to answer "yes" to the "does this make me look fat" questions we get in our life. I mean, that's inviting homicidal percentages to increase exponentially nationwide, and with my ever expanding waist, I'd rather not encourage that answer to that question right now. But, there's nothing wrong with - if someone is in a situation where they're asking for an honest opinion (and you know they want to hear one, too...you ever know anyone who honestly wants to hear they look fat?) - tell them it needs to be better, not complement them on their "soul" or "heart" or some crap like that.

Also, just as a sidelight, how many songs can these people sing from Whitney Houston? It's a shame she's probably still in a "Bobby Brown-left-me" induced coke-haze to know her songs are being used on the show.

It's just Peabody-winning type of material.

I'm sure you could light a small town on the rotations from Bill Paley's cold dead body if he knew television has evolved to this...

I am not a wimp????

First of all, I would like to say that I've never considered myself a wimp. I've had 2 babies, one being 9 1/2 pounds to boot, and I've even taken a vacation with my mother-in-law. If you knew her, you would know that qualifies me for non-wimp status. But this week has left me with the terrible feeling that maybe I was wrong.

Last week I had a rather unfortunate accident here at the house, which caused my pinky finger on my left hand to be broken. That's right, b-r-o-k-e-n. Not being a wimp (see above) I tried to tough it out, telling myself that it was just bruised and all fingers, when they're bruised, are supposed to be twice the size of normal fingers.

Anyway, the next day I wake up to a brand-new day. I go to wash my hands, and silly me, bend my finger. After nearly passing out from the pain (no joke) Scott convinces me that there could be something a little more serious going on with the old digit.

So after having x-rays and all that stuff I found out it is indeed broken. No heavy typing, keep the splint on for 4-5 weeks, and you'll be as good as new.

Okay, fast forward to this week. I have now done something to my lower back. I get up like an old woman, walk like a duck, and feel like a fool. I don't even know what I did to my back, so when people ask what's wrong with my back, I don't have an answer.

People say that when you hit 40 things start going downhill. I'm not 40 yet - I've got a few years to go - but I've got a birthday this week and I feel like this is God's way of telling me things are about as good as they're going to get.

As I said earlier, I'm not a wimp. I am, apparently, a whiner.

I'm scared of American Idol

I mean, like, really scared. I'd like to try to be on there (but for the fact I'm just unbelievably over the age limit and I hate lines at DisneyWorld of 12 people, more or less a meeting of 10,000 of my favorite friends in a crappy run down football stadium).

Except, I wonder, do I really have a decent voice at all? I mean, I think I do and other people have told me it isn't wretch-worthy, so it can't be too bad, right?

Well, yeah, that's what I thought. Until I see some of these lummoxes who appear on the show and are completely unable to warble through two lines of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" without sounding like an EBS warning signal - and I'm talking about the new staticy-ones, not the old beep tones they used to have.

What the crap are these people thinking? Are their friends just undeniably mean when they tell them they should go on the show, or when they hear the potential contestant ask for their opinion, is it the same as being asked, "Do I look fat in this?"

Then again, Richard Hung got a record deal out of imploding on national television. I know I'm not great, but I'm not that bad either...

Yes, there you have it. Yet again, the middle class gets screwed. - sc

Oscar perspective

I saw where Meryl (whose parents must've really hated her) Streep won a Best Actress Oscar nomination for her work in The Devil Wears Prada.

Just to put this into perspective, this is only one more nomination than my dead Grandmother received, and she wasn't in any movies last year.

I've been waiting weeks to use that line. Thank you for coming to tonight's show; I'll be here all week. God bless! - sc

Things you never hear in an exercise video

Just listening to the audio of this absolute nazi of a woman in one of Tammy's exercise videos as I sit here at the computer made me think of several things you never hear in an exercise video.

1. "Pick it up, gumbo."

2. "You look like a goober."

3. "I'm not getting paid enough to put up with your backtalk."

4. "Time for a snack break."

5. "Smoke 'em if you got 'em."

6. "Good night, did you hear that pop?"

7. "Last week a woman died on the set."

8. "My inspiration is Rosie O'Donnell."

9. "I have absolutely no training for this."

10. "That will never fit."

After much soul-searching...

I wanted to take this opportunity today, after considering and talking over the decision with my family, friends, supporters, and most of all, deeply in prayer, to officially announce I will not be a candidate for President of the United States in 2008.

I realize this comes as a blow to many who had urged me on in recent months. I know our country stands at a crossroads, and we have many decisions to make and many opportunities in which to share. However, while I believe I may have been able to successfully lead our country into the future, I have chosen to step aside at this time.

Between our children's baseball, soccer and swimming practices, and my desire to go to the bathroom in my own home versus the side of the road just outside of Butte, Montana, I wanted to announce my intentions today to successfully clear the field and allow my throngs of supporters to flock to other candidates, as we are just 729 days from Inauguration Day 2009. I realize I'm cutting it close, but hopefully this late announcement will allow them enough time to get their organizations together and completely monopolize this non-election year with ads, flyers, news appearances, and other opportunities to completely repel what voters remain after the 2006 cycle.

God Bless You, and may God Bless the United States of America. - SC