Category Society

Raise a Pint or Two

Michael 2 Comments

I won’t keep you long today. If you’re in the US you don’t want to be late for the parade and mattress sale right after you post the obligatory “It’s not just about picnics” Facebook post. If you’re not in the US you have something similar going on or could use a day off from my anyway.

BloodI came up with a dandy idea on how you can actually remember that they gave their all. Give a pint of yours. Really remember Memorial Day with a trip to the blood bank and donate a pint or two. Yes, you can give two if you donate just red cells. And when you get your plasma back you get a little extra fluid and you actually leave the donation center feeling better than you did when you got there. And you still get a cookie. Trust me I know.

So raise a pint to those who gave their all!

Penny for My Thoughts

Michael 7 Comments

It’s another one of those days when I have all these questions in my head and it’s going to explode if I don’t take some pressure off it and get them out in the open. Feel free to fill in any blanks you can.

I was reading one of my food-centric magazines and came across an article on the most important kitchen tools to pack for your next vacation. The only tool I’m planning on using on vacation for dinner is my telephone to call for reservations.

Sticking with food, I recently made a (surprisingly really good!) two ingredient bagel recipe I found on the Interwebs. I wonder if anybody else noticed it took six ingredients.*

There’s been a glut of TV commercials for guaranteed life insurance. You know, the kind that “you can never be turned down and your rates will never go up.” They all cost “35 cents a day.” Never more, never less. The coverage you get varies depending on how old you are and probably your zip code but the rate is always “35 cents a day.” But did you ever try to buy a day’s worth of insurance? Sure, they’ll quote you that rate but see what kind of answer you get if you ask them to draw “35 cents a day” from your checking account.

QuestionSince I brought up the high finance world, have to you noticed the ads for that company who will protect your personal information, information that impacts your credit reports and affects your credit score, from the “dark web.” They probably know something about it because wasn’t that the same company whose data bases that hold all your personal information, credit reports, and credit score were breached a couple years ago, maybe even by someone on the “dark web.”

Why, after years of encouraging hands-free phone use and no text use in cars, are we now making cars with multifunction touch screens in the middle of the dashboard in place of the traditional tactile buttons and knobs?

Does anybody else remember Dag Hammarskjöld?

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*One cup flour, 1&1/2 tsp baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon salt, one cup plain Greek yogurt, one beaten egg, toppings of you choice (I used sea salt and cracked pepper on two and onion flakes on the other two so I guess I actually used 8 ingredients). Whisk flour, salt, and baking powder together, add yogurt to combined flour mixture and mix until combined, flour work surface and knead until dry(ish), form into ball and cut into four pieces, roll each piece into a 6-8 inch log and turn into a circle, brush with beaten egg, top as desired, place on parchment lined baking sheet, bake at 350 degrees for 24 minutes then at 450 for 4 minutes more.

 

More Lessons on Ice

Michael 5 Comments

When they were picking teams for dodge ball in the playground behind the school, were you one of the last to go? OK, clearly I’m old. You can tell by the references to dodge ball, playground, and the picking of teams for any activity not associated with trivia night at the bar. Even if you are too young to remember these, or too savvy to acknowledge them, you probably have heard of such things as being “picked last in grade school for..” in many episodes of The Big Bang Theory. And you know it didn’t get them down. They all now make lots of money and are really big stars. I’m sorry, I’m mixing real life with fantasy.

But somewhere being unwanted and reaching a modicum of pinnacle-ness of success is happening right here in North American reality. Those are the NHL Vegas Golden Knights. The first expansion team to reach the Stanley Cup Final and proof once again that all you need to know to survive and succeed you can learn from hockey.

Ok, first things first. I said the first expansion team to the reach the final round and you keep hearing in the sports reports that they are the second. Technically, the St. Louis Blues reached the final in their inaugural year but only because in 1967 the NHL decided to make one conference out of all six expansion teams and the other one out of the existing six teams, thereby guaranteeing an expansion team a spot in the finals. Five of the six “Eastern Division” existing teams finished the season with more points than any of the six expansion “Western Division” teams and the Montreal Canadiens swept the final round in four games.

VGN

Vegas Golden Knights

Enough of history though. Back to the future when the Golden Knights will be the first expansion team to get to the Stanley Cup Final by winning their way there. With a team made up of a bunch of guys nobody wanted. When the expansion draft that stocked the Vegas team with players took place last year, each existing team was allowed to protect 10 or 12 players depending on how many offense versus defense skaters were included on the protected list and that included a goaltender. Each NHL team can dress 24 players (usually 22 skaters and 2 goaltenders) per game. So the existing teams could protect up to half of who they would put on the ice for a typical game. And Vegas could select one of the remaining “bottom half” talent.

And out of this group of players not wanted by anybody else, players who call themselves the “Golden Misfits,” skated a team who finished with the fifth most points, won the fourth most games, and scored the third most goals of any of the 31 teams in the league. And they are about to begin the fourth and final round of the Stanley Cup Tournament which this year will determine if misfits is synonymous with champion.

Moral of the story? Being picked last for dodge ball isn’t the end of the world. Don’t treat it like it is.

 

Come Here Often?

Michael 3 Comments

I had a most unusual dream last night. I met a female hockey referee after a concert and we went out for the “best cup of coffee we ever had.” I was certain I would not have ever picked up a random person at a concert but since she was a hockey referee I knew she had to be a good person. I’m not sure why she was wearing her black and white stripe shirt with the red arm band but fortunately she was so I knew what I was getting into.

In my half-awake state I tried analyzing this one of so very few dreams I ever remembered. I couldn’t make any sense of it so instead I started wondering how people meet others today. Television commercials and on-line pop-up ads and promoted posts would have you believe dating services are the way to go.

Of course dating services are not new ideas. They’ve been around for most of my entire life and we all know that’s a lot of years. Match is probably the most recognized on-line service but it goes back to only 1995. Date Mate might be the earliest recognized computer assisted service but it dates to just 1965. You have to go into the 50s, 1959 actually, to find the first documented dating service when the Happy Families Planning Service matched 59 men and 59 women in a Stanford University class project.

So how did the ancients (you know, those who matched up before Sputnik) find their mates? Even some of us who connected in the age of enlightenment (or during the cold war depending on how you want to remember time) managed to do so without handing over 3 bucks to find the perfect mate. How did we ever do that?

Dating

(All Things Clipart)

That gave me the idea to post a survey asking how you connected with your spouse, significant other, life partner, person of interest, paramour, special friend, companion, steady, beau, boo, or better half. But…I don’t know how to add a survey to a post and I really don’t feel like looking it up. And a survey only lets you answer once. You might have had more than one one-and-only over your lifetime. Who am I to deny you the opportunity to remember fondly all your initial hearts aflutter moments? And no matter how many choices I could come up with I’d certainly miss something and be forced to include the dreaded “other” catchall.

So I invite you to tell me what service led you to your match. The ways I thought of might include:

  • One of the aforementioned dating services either modern online or classic computer assisted
  • A personal professional matchmaker ala Dolly Levi
  • A personal amateur matchmaker ala parents, siblings, or exceptionally nebby friends, relatives, or coworkers
  • A specific matchmaking activity ala speed dating, singles’ dance, or similar
  • Social media typically not affiliated with matchmaking (Twitter following, Facebook groups, old timey chat rooms)
  • At school (any level, from nursery school to community college adult education classes)
  • At work (while not impeding your ability to provide superior customer service, of course)
  • At church, hopefully not during actual services but perhaps after or at a social affair or sponsored activity
  • At a bar, tavern, pub, party, or other alcohol fueled social gathering
  • At a non-alcohol fueled social activity (there must be something that qualifies)
  • On vacation (That could be a non-alcoholic fueled social activity depending on your definition of holiday.)
  • At a sporting or athletic event including that Wednesday morning Tai Chi class
  • Some random meeting (I met who would become a close companion and still great friend standing in line at an ATM machine.)
  • In the produce section at the local grocery store (It’s happened in books, movies, and television shows so it must have happened sometime in real life, no?)
  • And the infamous “other”

 

How did you meet, or would like to meet, or are trying to meet your companion for all your days or a significant portion thereof? Feel free to comment away!

 

It Doesn’t Add Up

Michael 3 Comments

I’ve been noticing a disturbing trend here and I think it explains why stores are in trouble. It has nothing to do with on-line shopping or discount warehouse stores. It has to do with store managers who are stupid.

I was in our local grocery store comparing the prices of the admittedly overpriced pod coffee selections. Single people who live alone and drink one cup of coffee a day understand their attraction. I noticed the sale tags (yippee!) then I noticed the need for improved math skills. Same brand, same flavor, different size packaging. The 12 count box, regularly 8.99, was on sale for 5.99. The 36 count box, regularly 24.99, was on sale for 18.99. I’ll wait. (Lah de dah, do dee dee, dum, hum, hum) Yeah! That’s what I said! I even mentioned it to the guy reaching for the box of 36. “Oh, I go through a lot of them,” and he grabbed two of the larger boxes adding, “Great price.”

Different day, different store, different item. Actually this was in a well-known major retailer whose name I’ll not mention but it ends in mart. I happened to be in need of some maintenance items for my outdoor gas grill including the little heat tent thingies that go over the gas tubes. Three of those little thingies actually. I found them on the shelf at 5.49 each. Right next to them was the “Economy Two Pack” (buy in bulk and save!) for 12.49. Once again I noticed an in store sucker … er, shopper … grabbing, once again, not just one but two of the two packs.

SaleSignLater that same day I was at the nursery (the plant kind, not the baby kind), picking out some herbs for my patio garden. Fortunately I only needed 4, or at most 6 plants. Why is that fortunate? Because they were on sale! What were regular price pots of 3.28 each were on sale for “$2.87 each, $24/tray of 8.” Of course someone had three trays in his cart. I hope he was planning on asking them being rung up separately.

Maybe I spoke too harshly of the store managers. They probably really are quite adept at math. It’s the consumer who needs the arithmetic refresher course. I think I might set one up. A friend of mine says I’d make a good tutor and I always can use a little extra spending money. I’ll charge a very reasonable $19.99 per lesson. Or 4 for 100 bucks!

Who says you have to be a big retailer to get in on Special Pricing?

 

Say Cheese

Michael 12 Comments

I had my picture taken yesterday. I know, most people on the Internet seem to have a complete photo diary of their whole existence. I grew up with a Kodak Brownie. We took pictures only if necessary. Like on a vacation. In a different state.

The picture I he had taken yesterday was even more monumental than an out of state vacation. It was for my driver’s license. And it was about time too. The last time I updated my driver’s license was 4 years, 3 operations, and 100 pounds ago. I bore as much resemblance to my ID as …. let’s just say it wasn’t actually representative. In fact, the one time I actually needed a photo ID that anybody paid particular attention to, the nice TSA agent kept looking from it to me to it to me to it. Fortunately I had that renewed my passport two years ago which was after the 3 surgeries and 100 pounds. More fortunately I decided to bring it along with me even though I wasn’t traveling outside the country. Most fortunately that particular TSA agent was perusing my travel documents on the return portion of that trip and I really didn’t want to spend another night in New Orleans.

I figured something out on my way to the photo center. I was going for my eleventh renewal. Here ours renew every 4 years. That’s a lot of driving. And based on heads and shoulders at least, a pretty nifty photographic record of changing hair styles. Or it would be if they were on all my licenses. We only started using pictures on our licenses here in 1976 so my first couple documents were just black type on color coded card stock. Now it just so happened those license periods also coincided with my under 21 years.

DLIDs without photos are hardly identifying yet that was the standard in the dark ages of paper licenses. Of course that eliminated an entire cottage industry since it meant there was no need for a fake ID business. All you had to do was find an older somebody who wasn’t going out the same night as you who reasonably matched your basic info … height, eye and hair color, and sex. Sex is important. Having an older sister is of no benefit when you’re a younger brother.

But that won’t do today. Now there are pictures on licenses. And bar codes and holograms and for some reason a second picture. I guess that makes up for all the years there were none.

I figured I’m good for a while now. I have 4 new years on my driver’s license, 8 more years on my last password renewal, and no job and no school to go to that might require a photo ID card.

I don’t have to worry about a good hair day until 2022!

 

Figuring It Out

Michael 2 Comments

You haven’t read anything from me since early last week. It’s not because I got sick and ended up I the hospital or anything dramatic like that. I just haven’t been feeling me lately. I’ve not had a bad week but I’ve not had a great one. Sometimes that happens. To look at me you’d probably not notice much, if any difference. Most of the time I look neither disabled nor chronically ill, yet both of those I am.

Neither of those necessarily has anything to do with the other of those. I, you, or anyone else can be one, the other, both, or neither, and it would all be perfectly normal. Except for those who are not perfectly normal.

If I had to pick which to be I’d go with the neither option. Being chronically ill is a little easier in society. There are lots of support groups for almost any chronic illness you can name, from “basic” high blood pressure to the more exotic diseases and conditions of which two have taken residence in me. Most chronic illnesses do not result in a disability but the ones that do quite make up for that vast silent majority of those that don’t. Even those leave most people looking like there is little, if any wrong goings on under an otherwise fairly healthy looking skin.

Being disabled is also no picnic. I’m lucky that I still have most of my abilities available. I might be able to imagine a world where I am dependent on others for daily functions that you take for granted like washing behind your ears or making a cup of tea. But I can’t imagine what it’s like to be dependent on people’s foresight and planning to permit me to do those other things you take for granted like opening a door or stepping up onto a curb.

Whether overtly disabled, like a paraplegic in a wheelchair, or with a hidden disability that doesn’t affect mobility until you’ve taking the first 30 steps then can go no farther, there isn’t a whole lot of acceptance and accommodation going on out there. Wearing ribbons and outlining parking spaces in blue just don’t add that much to my quality of life. Sorry.

If you don’t read “Help Codi Heal” you should. Codi is a young wife and mother of three who was living her life when she was injured in a fall two years ago and now is living her life in a wheelchair. Because she is seen differently now, in a recent post she wondered how she would teach her children to accept life’s differences. Her dilemma came as she wondered how you teach acceptance of differences without pointing out the differences. Her not quite 4 year old taught her children don’t have to be taught acceptance. They are naturally accepting. So then, the new dilemma is how do you get them to stay that way?

NoHPaccessI think the answer is, you don’t. Leave it alone and let the children grow into being accepting adults organically. They won’t turn out to be ogres. I’m certain the amount of non-acceptance is directly proportional to a society’s extent of sensitivity training. The more we try to “teach” acceptance, diversity, inclusion, and affirmation, the more we turn away, divide, exclude, and deny.

Our attempts at equal rights for anything have never really succeeded. We manage to call so much attention to the inequalities and attempting to right past wrongs we never get around to actually addressing the actions that made the thing wrong.

Let me tell you a true story. In 1972, I applied for a summer job at the local steel mill. That was when many companies were feeling pressure from regulators to comply with what was then called affirmative action, ten years after the regulations went into effect. I went through all the necessary applications and tests and was in an interview with the personnel manager who told me that he’d love to hire me but he really needed “a black or female student to even things up” for that summer. No discussion of my ability or inability to do the job, just what he needed to do to “even things up.” That phrase stayed with me and at every job I ever applied for in the next 40 years I heard it in my head. I always wondered if I’d be competing against any minorities and would I be unfairly dismissed because I wasn’t one. Real or no, that was a perception that stayed with me for a lifetime.

Forty years later when I was the hiring manager, I was required to give each applicant a form to voluntarily complete after the interview. It asked the applicant’s sex (male, female, other), race (optional), ethnic background (of a select handful), and veteran status. This was sealed and sent to a third party to tabulate to determine if we were interviewing from a pool of applicants representative of our local population. No question of the job we were interviewing for, education or experiential requirements for the job, or if the applicants who responded were representative of the population. Real or no, pressure was felt every time I had to make a decision among applicants of diverse backgrounds, even if their professional backgrounds were also quite diverse.

How do we address the elephant in the room? If you ask a roomful of 3 year olds they would probably say, “Look, an elephant! Let’s play.” How do we get the three year old grow up to be 23 with that same innocence and acceptance? Just leave them alone.

They’ll figure it out.

 

Step 3a…The Journey Continues

Michael 16 Comments

We stepped off the elevator and I was sure we turned the wrong way in the garage. I read the directions off to my daughter and we were both certain that we had selected the correct garage entrance and floor and entered the building at the door indicated on those directions. It was a little difficult with the construction going on in the parking structure. Much of the signage was obscured and it lent enough of an air of uncertainty that the only thing I was certain of was that I wasn’t certain. When we went from the brightly lit elevator into the dim hallway I thought this wasn’t going to be my day. That’s when the neighboring elevator pinged and a young lady rushed out, saw us and said, “I am so sorry. I’m late. Let me get this opened up and check you in.” I breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn’t gone completely crazy. Yet.

Welcome to the continuing story of As the Kidney Turns. Last week I finally had my in person evaluation appointment and initial round of tests for a potential kidney transplant. I’m calling this Step 3a because there are more tests to come before we get to Step 4, the (hopefully) acceptance.

Step 3 Day started early. Apparently too early. I’ve never been one to be fashionably late. If told to be somewhere at 8, I show up at 7:45 so when I was told to be somewhere at 7:45…well. But I used to worked right down the street from where we were and I knew that if the stars weren’t lined up just right, and the traffic lights were working against you, it could take 20 minutes to go 3 blocks in that part of town. My daughter was with me for the appointment and we didn’t have to be concerned that we were a couple minutes late getting started. We would end up spending the next 7 hours there.

The day started like any doctor appointment. Height, weight, and insurance. Not necessarily in that order. I was checked in which amounted to verifying insurance and demographics, signing various authorizations and releases, and being led to a combination office/exam room. Then things got different in a hurry. There we spent the next four hours meeting with an insurance specialist, two doctors, a pharmacist, a social worker, and my personal transplant coordinator who would be my contact throughout the process all the way to the surgery if that would be the (again hopefully) ultimate end. (I then would be transferred to a post-transplant coordinator who would stay with me presumably until my ultimate end.)

We talked about the actual procedure, that a my own kidneys are not removed but a new location is prepared for the transplanted organ and the how the blood, nerve and fluid connections are made, where that space might be, and the physical recovery from the operation. Most people recover in the hospital for 5 to 7 days then at home for another month or so before resuming regular activities.

We talked how with a transplant the recovery process never really ends. The initial follow-up requires twice weekly visits to the transplant center for 4 to 6 weeks, then weekly visits, then twice a month, then monthly, and so on until I would stabilize at life time annual visits. Post-transplant specific medications are used for life to lessen the chance of rejection and infection.

We talked how if accepted into the program while awaiting a transplant there will be the need for ongoing tests and examinations to continually affirm my suitability. In the absence of a living donor that wait could be 4 to 5 years. Those tests include specific blood tests drawn every month and because I have Wegener’s Granulomatosis which is treated with an immunosuppressant, I would have to be re-cleared by those physicians every 6 months confirming I have no exacerbation of that disease or confounding effects of the drugs used to treat it.

We discussed the differences in recovery and results between living and deceased donated kidneys. If you’re wondering, kidneys from living donors tend to begin working shortly after implantation and can last for 15 years or longer. Those from deceased donors may take several days to begin working and can be expected to keep on working for 8 to 10 years. Also, again if you’re wondering and because I always had, a living donor who should someday need his or her own kidney transplant will receive priority in their own journey.

We also talked about what all this means to me and my family. Pre-transplant for me means continuing with dialysis and some more frequent doctor visits to insure I remain suitable for the procedure (if it’s determined that I am to begin with). The additional blood test can be drawn at the dialysis clinic so that would be one less trip I’d have to make each week. Speaking of trips, if I feel like taking one I’d have to notify my coordinator where and for how long I’d be. Because I live alone, after transplant for those first few weeks I’d need someone to stay with me or I to stay with someone. I would also need assistance getting around initially and getting around would be necessary having to make the trips into town for those checkups at the clinic. Fortunately, those will be short trips. Family gets involved right away. One of the requirements is attending a patient and family education class that goes over in more detail all that was discussed at last week’s appointment.

After all the meetings with all the people and a physical exam from both doctors (there were two doctors because one was the medical specialist and one the surgeon), I was set loose in the hospital for various tests. Those included to the lab for blood test (17 tubes, yikes!) and a urine sample (only one, thankfully), to cardiology for an EKG, and to xray for chest xrays and a sonogram of the kidney and one of what I have been given to replace the bladder. Still to come are a stress test, an echocardiogram, a cystogram, and (my favorite) (yeah, right), a colonoscopy.

Early returns seem to indicate I might be able to pull this off. Nothing came up at the initial exams that would have immediately disqualified me and the test results that have come back are more or less normal, for me. The remaining tests are scheduled over the next several weeks and I hope to have a definite answer by June. Then we can start thinking about possible donors and a whole new step.

DLAAgain, thank you for staying on the journey with me. Coincidence continues. This month my transplant evaluation coincides with National Donate Life Month. Every April, Donate Life America celebrates National Donate Life Month, focusing national attention on every individual’s power to make life possible by registering as an organ, eye, and tissue donor, and learning more about living donation. Many years ago I registered to be a donor. That was long before I ever suspected I would someday be looking at transplants from a recipient’s perspective. If you’d like to explore becoming an organ or tissue donor, check with your local transplant center, your personal physician or the Donate Life America website, or register at RegisterMe.org.

Related posts

First Steps (Feb. 15, 2018)
The Next Step (March 15, 2018)

 

 

 

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

Michael 12 Comments

I had my transplant evaluation appointment today. This post won’t be about that. I’ll chronicle that next step of the journey in my next post. Today I want to talk about paper. Everywhere I went today, there was paper.

Years ago when I was working in the hospital we were promised that a paperless environment was on its way. In fact, I think they might have been planning that when I was in college. The first time. In the 1970s. They ain’t got there yet. They’re trying. Really, I do believe that. But I think they are fighting a really big uphill battle.

It’s an accountability thing. When I was still working, many of our suppliers used paperless invoicing. Anything you needed to know you could get from their partner sites on line. Yet whenever we would receive anything from a supplier, the contracted delivery service had their copy, in duplicate, and we had to make 3 copies of each invoice for our records. Corporate, hospital, and department each got its own copy. Everyone looked out for himself.

That extends to patient records. Today I electronically reviewed then signed the authorization to treat, release of records, and informed consent forms. After the ceremonial signing, they printed off two copies of each form. One for me, one for the paper file to go along with that electronic copy. Each department that I visited, which had received an advanced electronic order of whatever test was to be performed, printed a copy for me to pass on to the technician who would perform the test who then scanned the order that was previously printed from the computer system back into the computer system upon completion of the test verifying the test had been completed.

Receipt

Yes, that is a 16 inch ruler. No, I don’t remember where I got it.

This paper hanging is not peculiar just to health care. Stop for a late lunch on the way home and count on the waiter, who would enter the order on an electronic tablet, to bring two copies of the check at the end of meal just in case you want to pay by card, and then two more if you actually do.

My final stop was at the supermarket for a handful of items. It’s a store I regularly use and my email address is on file there. I randomly receive electronic coupons and when I check out I am offered the choice of a printed or emailed receipt. I always go for the email version because stores receipts have become the length of War and Peace. They include the purchased items, any discount on those items by way of weekly sales, deductions made due to coupons or loyalty rewards, progress towards those rewards, surveys, upcoming specials, and of course the store name, address, phone and hours. Just in case you forgot where you were shopping I suppose. Whether you elect paper or e-receipt you get printed versions of the coupons that had recently been emailed. Today, the clerk failed to ask how I wanted my receipt and just printed it off. All 21 inches, 3-1/4 inches which actually reflected my purchases. (Yes, in fact, I did measure it.) (Because I have that kind of time, that’s why.) (I’ve told you that before.)

So, the next time somebody mentions the paperless office, you know what the real score is. But please, feel free to print this missive for later reading if you want. You’ll be in good company.

 

 

 

 

*Batteries Not Included

Michael Leave a comment

The 2017-18 NHL hockey regular season ended yesterday. The playoffs begin later this week and I have a few days to evaluate my own hockey scorecard. Over a few hundred games I’ve seen just about everything a hockey fan could want to see. I’ve see pre-season games, regular season games, and post-season games. I’ve seen games that clinched playoff spots, I’ve seen playoff series open and I’ve seen playoff series close with wins and with losses. I’ve seen penalty shots, the most exciting play in the fastest sport. I’ve seen games finish in overtime and games finish in shoot outs. I’ve touched the Stanley Cup and been up close to every other trophy awarded by the league. I’ve even seen the NHL draft live and in person. (Oddly, or aptly, I got to see a fight breakout at that draft but it was in the stands between two groups of opposing fans.) I have towels and programs and pucks signed by players who were right in front of me.  But there are three things I’ve not done. I’ve not been to an outdoor game. I’ve not been to a Cup winning game. And I’ve never seen a goalie score a shutout. Well, in point of fact, I have seen a shutout but it comes with an asterisk.

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BroncosI wrote this post while at dialysis Saturday afternoon. I had not seen the news Friday night or Saturday morning and was unaware that on Friday afternoon a bus carrying the Humboldt Broncos junior hockey team from Humboldt, Saskatchewan was involved in a deadly traffic accident. The team featured players 16 to 20 years old. Among 15 killed in the accident were 11 players, 2 coaches, a radio announcer, and a statistician. My sympathies go to their families and friends, the Saskatchewan Junior Hockey League, and the entire Canadian hockey family. I mean no disrespect to the memories of these young people and their supporters and hope that by my words, I can honor them.

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That little asterisk, the famous * symbol, says so much for being so little. I don’t know the earliest use of the asterisk but I remember the first time I saw it. It was on a box holding a new transistor radio (if you remember what that is) and it preceded the words “batteries not included.” Lots of things back then didn’t include batteries but they were mostly toys, or so it seemed to me, but those boxes didn’t hide the need for batteries behind our little one character attention getter. They put those words big and bold right on the front of the box. BATTERIES NOT INCLUDED. Occasionally you’d see an asterisk in a newspaper ad for a bank’s free checking offer. Today advertisers dispense with cluttering their come-ons with extraneous markings and just fill the bottom third of their spot with print in fonts smaller than what you think is actually possible with the exclusions and modifiers.

In the 1980s, amazing feats of strength and power were witnessed at baseball parks across America. The steroid era had arrived. More accurately, the steroid era had been noticed. Someone figured out that mere mortals just couldn’t do some of the things athletes of the day were doing. Most athletes of the day would have cringed at being called mere mortals. As would quite a few fans. Still, critics prevailed and convinced the powers that be of the day to look closer at those accomplishments. Yes, they determined that mere mortals could only do those things if they got some help. Help in the form of steroids to allow mortals to transcend their mere-ness. Record shattering performances of the time and the times before were scrutinized to investigate the possibility that the performers were performing in other than unadulterated states. If there was a question, the record remained but the suspicion that steroids were used was noted with an asterisk. Nobody wanted an asterisk. The reference mark had become a mark of shame. It persisted and expanded. Even in academia the asterisk was feared. I can recall in graduate school discussing a fellow fellow’s research results and heard someone remark, “oh sure, he can prove the theory but someday somebody is going to put an asterisk after his paper.”

Today the asterisk is regaining its popularity. Or maybe it’s losing its ignominy. Whichever, you’re starting to see it again, even in the occasional blog post. It simply means ” Hey, check it out. There’s still some more to the story.” And that’s why I’m not ashamed to include an asterisk with my personal hockey bucket list accomplishments. Yes, I’ve seen a shutout. There’s just more to the story.

I said I have never seen a goalie score a shutout in a game and that is true. But a have seen a shutout and that is also true. It was February 2, 2011. I remember the date because it was Groundhog Day and I was wearing my official Punxsutawney Phil hat rather than a more traditional hockey themed baseball cap. The home team was up 3-0 with 16.5 seconds left. The back-up goaltender was in for the number one net minder after the main guy played to a shootout win the previous night. As the game wound down, the home team was on the offense and a player made a break to the goal. The puck slipped past him and as he skated across the crease the opposing goalie took him down with a forearm. This did not sit well with the home goalie, who dropped his stick and gloves and advanced toward center ice. The visiting goalie also approached and gave the universal “come on” sign. Home goalie crossed the red line and his fate was sealed. He would receive a game misconduct and be ejected with only a few more than a dozen seconds left in the game. The home team inserted number one goalie who completed the shutout but since it was split between two goalies, the starter was credited with the win but neither goalie was awarded a shutout. Thus my asterisk.

But on the bright side, I did get to cross off “see a goalie fight” from my hockey bucket list.