Kiss My Karma

Me....Yesterday!

"Oh wad some Power the giftie gie us to see oursels as ithers see us."

Robert Burns 1786

Wasn't it a grand day Tuesday. No matter who you voted for, the force of the moment was on us.

Here's a pic of President Barack Obama from this past summer.

The two guys on his left are former students, and now anchor/reporters in Wyoming, Juan Tan Romero and Walter Allen. I don't think they had time to shoot any hoops with the big guy, but they'll have tales to tell to their grandchildren regardless.

I've had a few setbacks to whine about the past six months, but thank me for keeping them mostly to myself.

My Karma, I'm thinking, isn't that bad, you know? I'm doing pretty good.

It certainly isn't as negative as the Karma that hit my sister Brenda during the holidays.

On Christmas day she leaves her Oakland Hills home and Drives to Livermore, California so we can all have dinner together.

Literally, three blocks from her destination, my stepdaughter's house, a woman of dubious character, driving an SUV beyond her capacity, slams that monster right into the side of Brenda's little old sedan.

CAR TOTALLED...BRENDA NOT
So Brenda, Peggy and I spend Christmas afternoon and evening in the emergency room at a hospital in Pleasanton, California. (They did hold dinner for us.)

She screwed up her knee, took some hits on the chin and chest, but she is back to her aerobic self once again. Brenda is an artist, and I'm watching to see how this experience manifests itself in her work.

www.brendareinertson.com

Like I said things have been cruising right along for me. Last week, on Friday to be exact, I am down on campus for some orientation. I'm excited about the two classes I'm going to be teaching starting inauguration day. There are some announcements, some smiles, some glad handing, some process sharing.. and then I'm heading home?

Well I'm home about ten minutes, and check my email? There before me is a note telling me because of budget constraints and low enrollment my broadcast journalism class has been cancelled.

Damn!

Okay, my supplemental income is cut in half. BIG DEAL. I've been listening to Obama. This just makes me a good citizen in these rough economic times. I'm just going to get over myself and embrace the joy of promise ahead. I can't wait to hear the speech.

So Tuesday morning I jump in the shower early. What a big day I have ahead of me. I'll get ready, listen to most of the speech, rush to light rail, zip to campus for DAY ONE OF THE NEW SEMESTER.

"Paul, hey you there in the shower."

"Yeah?"

"You got a call. You want to call them back?"

"Yeah!"

ONE RINGY DINGY...TWO RINGY DINGYS......

"Hi! This is Paul."

"Huh?"

So this is sacrifice, is it? Budget cuts 'cause of the economy means no announcing class, and that supplemental income?

ZIP!

There are some things you learn working in the media over time. Really they apply to most forms of labor. Among them are: don't burn bridges; don't stay angry and bitter, you're just hurting yourself; don't say mean things in the heat of the moment you'll regret later. AND if you have to let somebody go? DON'T DO IT IN EMAIL AND/OR OVER THE PHONE.

That's all the rage I've got. I'm done. I'm calm.

Now that doesn't mean I'm without any urge to vent completely. But you'll have to buy me a beer in some backwater dive to get it out of me.

Now let me be obscure. I hope the following words will be taken as lightly as I'm typing them.

You know that poetic verse that began this treatise? In case your 1780's Scottish dialect is a little weak, allow me to translate.

"Oh would that god would give us the power to see ourselves as others see us."

And what is the subject and title of this near epic poem?

"TO A LOUSE"

A louse reportedly crawling around on the hat of a woman sitting in front of Robert Burns at church.

KISS MY KARMA! OH, I FEEL SOOOOO......MUCH BETTER NOW. What now? Oh, I'll find something to do. But you SHOULD know I am available.

Pssst! Over here!

Yesterday I am cruising around AOL and see this tease? It says in essence, "hey, if you want a good look at the moon? Tonight is the closest it'll be to Earth in all of 2009. And the best time to see it, if you have a clear sky to the east, is at sunset."


Whoa, I can tell from the waning light in the kitchen, sunset is nearly upon us. I grab my camera, switch lenses in mid-air, grab Peggy, race to the car, break speed laws getting to an open area with a house that will show comparative size.


I jump from the car and race to the middle of a small park where I can see the huge moon, draped by clouds, just over the eaves of a house. It looks perfect in the frame. I'm getting ready to set the shot...and.....?



I FORGOT MY TRIPOD. (Not the first time I've done that.)


You really need a tripod to "shoot the moon," literally.


"Peggy will you help me out here?"


Well Peggy's shoulder had to do and here's that moon.
























It's not going to win any awards.


There is more than one lesson here. A piece of carefully crafted advice I hand to broadcast journalism students is "THE REAL NEWS IS ALWAYS A BLOCK AWAY."


Overtime I've come up with some pretty good examples to illustrate the concept. But saying it in class and seeing it happen again and again are two different bananas.


So as I'm desperately trying to steady my hand and Peggy's shoulder in air I'd estimate is warmed to 25 degrees Fahrenheit? Peggy says to me?


You might want to look over my other shoulder.....back this way!






















And so I did!








It has been brought to my attention this picture has been doctored by my association with Photo Shop. Before you organize impeachment proceedings, let me openly and humbly admit my grievous but unintentional error.

I did in fact tinker with the pure representation of this sunset. I did in fact upload these deceptive pixels.

However, lest you should judge my integrity in representing the nature of things, please allow me to now reveal the true source of the vision. I vow the representation below was taken with automatic exposure and focus settings. AND, it has been left unadulterated following its transference to this venue.

















AND I think I like this one better.

Blow Hard

I just recently had a birthday. At my age you tend to be the receiver of gifts purchased under the motivation, "What do you get for someone that old?"
A wise OLD owl once said..........

Typically the most meaningful gifts are those coming from folks just about your own own age. Case in point? My older sister Theda sent me an envelope full of balloons. So here's the deal on balloons.

First of all, for me, it is an opportunity to celebrate my birthday along with the advent of spell check. You see I could have fifteen PhDs in my back pocket, and I'd still have about ten words I can never spell. One of them? Oh you are so good. That's right! It is BALLOON.


Now secondly an envelope full of balloons is a real test of what is left of my physiology.
Here I am infusing air into one of the gift balloons.


























And here is my rendering of ALL the balloons blown up. And I didn't faint once.





























The final and likely most important characteristic of the appropriateness of an envelope of balloons for someone of my maturity? What wonderful memories of childhood those balloons induce. After blowing up the balloons?

I....

A. let the air out of one and let it fly all over the family room.

B. let the air out very slowly turning the resulting blare into "Old Mac Donald Had a Farm."

C. rubbed all the balloons through what hair I've left to create static electricity, thus allowing me to then attach the balloons all over my body.

I lost a cousin this past week. Mike Gooch was truly one of the World's GOOD GUYS! I called him the original "horse whisperer." He let me burst out of a chute atop his horse Chip. I was chasing a calf with a rope.

I know Mike squelched his laugh, but I'm sure Chip, wherever he is, is still in therapy over the end result of my one and only roping attempt.

"You're supposed to let go of the rope when you throw it out there Paul!"

(There is a chance the calf is seeing the same shrink.)

I'll miss you and think about you a lot Mike!

Let's see? Is it one 'l' and two 'o's, or......? Love ya ta death spell check.