"Perspective"

Too bad that some of the same folks
who would criticize someone
for burning a 'beloved' like the Koran/Quran
don't seem to object very much
when someone else's 'beloved' is 'desecrated',
like say, a national flag
or the memory of murdered people.
I suppose it's a matter of "perspective" or "point of view",
but I can't help but wonder
which side of their respective or collective logic sphincters
some folk's points of view originate.
If you straddle a fence long enough, you'll get tired, fall, and be impaled.
And whose fault would that be?
Criticizing is easy.
Stupid is stupid and so is hypocrisy.
No one has a corner on it.

An AT&T Tech Support Gripe

I recently spent 12 days getting my DSL service upgraded to a higher speed.
I achieved this after going through seven front-line Customer Service Representatives
and one tech manager.
Each tech, though audibly polite and correctly personable as per script
could not tell me why my DSL, though duly provisioned for faster speed
(because their computers told them so), did not function at the advertised higher speed.

I did my own research ("Google is your friend") and
discovered a not-uncommon reason for this issue -
the provisioning of the speed increase is a two-step process:
first, switch the account in the server (either a Shasta or a Redback server) to the designated higher speed, and
secondly, change the user profile script (in my case, in the Redback server).
The profile script change step not getting done is reportedly the most common reason for an incomplete provisioning.
Not one of the front line CSRs had a clue about this speed issue, nor what a Redback server or user profile script was.
All they did was parrot that my account showed as having been provisioned
and that it "should be working".
Sharing my research on the common cause for this issue with them did not sink in.
Almost without fail at this stage, most of these first few CSR folk would ask to place me on hold while they "researched the issue",
my call would be disconnected,
and no promised callback was made.

Okay... I've been a CSR, a tech support person for hardware and software computer support, and even a certified police dispatcher and a computer control room supervisor for a cumulative several years. Not my first rodeo.
I know that 'stuff happens'.
I also know that large companies can be oblivious to good customer service.
I set up a tentative deal for internet service with a rival provider and then placed my last call to my DSL provider's service cancellation queue.
I calmly spelled out my twelve fruitless days experience with their tech support, my own experience as a CSR and tech support person,
and my readiness to dump them for a competitor.
Without hesitation, this last CSR person, got a tech manager on-line with us and introduced me and the service issue.
The tech manager actually listened, (which is 90% of good customer service).
He accepted that I would not further repeat basic troubleshooting steps, and
that my home hardware and connections were clean, tight, and reliable.
He had to place me on hold a few times while he tested my service and researched my issue.
He finally came back on line and announced with a slight "Well! I'll be!" pleased tone in his voice that he'd identified and corrected the problem and that it was "just what you'd said it was", the user profile script.
I ran a standard on-line speed test and the speed change was in the ballpark, "like magic".

I'm disappointed that AT&T has not apparently seen fit to instruct the front-line CSRs
to be alert to this not-uncommon scenario and
to actually take ownership of customer support issues.
First impressions ARE important.
The company exists because of the customer, not the other way around.
We have options and we can remind these companies of that fact.
Once you have their attention, they'll usually listen.

I made a point to complement the tech manager's listening skills, clear patience, professional manner,
and persistence is resolving this issue and retaining a customer's account.
AT&T could use folks on their front line with this tech manager's attitude and initiative.

AT&T, please pay attention.

Calm In The Midst Of A Storm

I originally published this in another blog page of mine in 2008, just after my son graduated from Air Force basic training. He is now nearing the end of his first deployment to Iraq.

What the future holds remains to be seen. But I believe in the power of dreams and I believe in the power of prayer. I've seen both answered.

Not every dream comes true, but some do.

Not every prayer is answered just as we might want them to be, but every prayer is answered... just not according to our personal schedule.

This is just a small piece of observation on my part,

of a life,

up close,

from start to the present -

------------------------------------------

October, 2008

Since my younger son was old enough to say so, he has wanted to fly airplanes and rocketships.

Kindergarten, first grade, second grade he reiterated his dream to fly. He was unwavering.
A bright fellow, he was bored with school, saw little point to all the mundane things that gradeschoolers have to learn. School was often a struggle for him.
I explained to him that achieving goals was a bit like building a house that we'd like to live in.
I explained to him about foundations and walls and the roof overhead in terms he could grasp and flesh-out for himself in terms of his schooling.
I told him that kindergarten was preparation for first grade, first grade was preparation for second grade, and so on... just like building a house.
As he continued in grade school, he began to see that actions have consequences... those of others... and more importantly, to his own aspirations and dreams, he began to see how his actions bore consequences, to good or ill.
There came a point when he had expressed his utter frustration with boring schoolwork that I laid it out for him with words to this effect: "Look, son... I know school can be boring at times.. sometimes enough to almost drive you out of your skin.. .but you need to stick with it.. make it work for you. Just like building a house, what you work on now is built upon by what you will work on later, and so on.. until you get to where you can begin to realize your dream of flying.
You want to do all that cool stuff like flying airplanes and rocket ships? Well, then, you've got to build your foundation. If you want to do the cool stuff later, you've got to...GOT to... do the "boring" stuff now... you are learning how to learn... learning the things, acquiring the tools you will need later to do the cool stuff. Hold your goals firmly in sight. Know that you can get there, but it will only happen one step at a time.”
Over the years, he demonstrated his grasp on that concept. In high school, he joined the Air Force ROTC program and stuck with it.... he struggled with his high school curriculum, but he stuck to it and graduated. Did pretty good, too.
He recently graduated from Air Force basic training, and is now in tech training school where he is beginning to learn the fundamentals, theory and practicalities of avionics systems.
He has kept true to his vision, the long view for his life. He aims to continue with college education, officer school eventually, and if all works to plan he will fly his planes.. .maybe even be an astronaut.

For a high school graduation present, I gave him a framed copy of Rudyard Kiplings's poem,
"IF".
The poem's opening line had always stuck with me...
"If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs..."

In typing the poem out for his gift, I read the poem with new insight...
It was inspiration for both he and I...
and, I believe a springboard for inspiration, a validation for him that he had set a goal and steadfastly held to his dream.. and is now living it.

When I get upset by the news of the day that we are all seeing lately... and wonder what the world is coming to, I think about my son and the living example of goals realized he has shown me.. and then I realize anew that there is always hope, always a dream to be realized...
always a reason to carry on... calmly, in the midst of the storm.

IF

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

(For myself, my dream and my prayer is that my son,
all our sons and daughters, come home safe.)

No Explanation Necessary

Love Under The Big Top

by Andy Martello.

Andy holds copyright to this story.
It was originally published here, and
it is reposted on this blog with his kind and express permission.

---+---

When you are working as an enterainer, especially with a circus or other traveling show you are bound to hook up romantically with another performer once in awhile. Sometimes the only people you can even find to talk to are the folks in your production and you have no choice but to date another person in the biz.

I had only a few on-the-road romances in my time with the circus. I can’t say that any of them was earth-shattering or exciting, at least not any more so than any other relationship I’d had. However one story always comes to mind first and foremost when thinking about love under the big top.

Someone had a BIG crush on me. It was more than just a school-girl kind of attraction. It was a full-on, gotta have him, double-whammy of an obsession. Although we never dated and rarely saw each other, she was in LOVE with me.

She was a nice girl, but not my type. Were it not for the fact that we would occasionally work together I’d have never given her a second glance. She had bad breath and poor table manners. We never had an intelligent conversation. She had a mannish quality about her and she had no sense of style at all. She was of decent breeding, but otherwise would be considered “common stock” by most men. She was not attractive. She was too hairy, too stupid and too short. She was a baboon.

Irvin Hall came from a long line of circus performers. He had a couple good working acts. Aside from a unicycle act, he had a very good animal attraction; a baboon act. It was one of his baboons that fell in love with me.

You didn’t think I was talking about a real woman did you? Oh my God! What kind of animal do you think I am? I suppose it doesn’t matter because this baboon DID in fact think I was an animal and she had to get with me.

I’ve been fortunate enough to work among wild animals often over the years. I’ve encountered elephants, tigers, chimpanzees, and all sorts of exotic birds among others. Until I’d worked with Irvin, the only baboon knowledge I had was leftover from my Ringling days.

Clowns are told to AVOID BABOONS AT ALL COSTS. To a baboon, a clown is just another baboon, thanks to the clown make-up. Baboons are quite territorial and aggressive and when they see a clown they have only one instinct; kick the clown’s ass!

I’d always made it a point to be very respectful of the animals on a show regardless if I was wearing make-up or not. I would never try to pet them or engage them in any way. It is just common sense to treat them like wild animals and not as pets. More importantly, they were not MY animals.

With Irvin’s baboons I didn’t have to worry as much about being mauled. These were smaller, and did not have the same colorful faces as the larger, more aggressive baboons. Besides, I had long since hung up my clown togs by this point and since I never went out of my way to become chummy with another performer’s animals I felt quite safe.

My first meeting with Irvin started this unusual tale of love and infatuation. I went to Irvin to learn what behavior was appropriate around his animals and where it would be best for me to set up my gear. During our discussions he would “introduce” me to his baboons by calling out their names.

The first two baboons could care any less about me. The third baboon (I forget her name. I know, TYPICAL MAN!) was quite taken with me!

You could see a physical transformation in her face as she stared into my eyes. She became quite star-struck and her eyes were wide open. She was clearly excited to be around me. By all accounts it was love at first sight for this young lady.

At one point she left her seat and followed the length of her tether until she was positioned behind Irvin’s leg. She’d occasionally peer around and get a little closer to me.
[BB]
Irvin noticed this and began to laugh. When I asked what was so funny he told me that his baboon was in love with me and wanted to get to know me better. Confused, I asked him to explain himself.

I’d always heard bizarre stories about circus performers dressing up and making girlfriends of their animal stock. I was hoping this was not to be one of those instances. I was in no need for a baboon lover nor did I want to hear any lurid stories about Irvin and his lonely life on the road.

Instead there was a simple and innocent explanation. I had reddish-brown hair and a beard that matched. This particular baboon had a history of falling in love with any man with that color hair. As it was explained to me, she’d decide the guy was one HANDSOME and virile male baboon. We both got a big laugh at this event and I asked if I should alter my behavior or worry about hers.

“No. She’ll watch you very closely and try to get your attention,” he said, “She may try to hold your hand or something, but otherwise will not do anything to harm you. She just wants you to notice her.”

Seemed reasonable to me. It was a funny story and loads of fun to watch this otherwise vicious baboon become a giddy little schoolgirl around me. Having never petted a baboon before it was very cool to be able to walk hand-in-hand with one. Eventually I could set up closer to Irvin’s props and sit with her. Irvin would keep a watchful eye and I’d joke about him being our chaperone. It was just adorable.

This is how most of my rendezvous with this baboon would go over the years. I’d give her popcorn or cotton candy (It seems all girls like candy) and she’d want to sit near me and hold my hand, hoping I would return her affection. In short, it was the sweetest and most amazing animal encounter I’d had while on the road. At least MOST of the moments were sweet.

It had been a few years since the last time I saw Irvin and my lady love. The passage of time did nothing to reduce her feelings for me. In fact it had quite the opposite effect.

While setting up my props backstage, I took a moment to sit and relax. I noticed that my favorite primate was making her way towards me. She approached cautiously and nervously, as if she were about to ask me out on a date.

When she got close enough she tugged on my pant leg and looked up at me. She reached out to grab my hand. I helped her up to the bench and she sat next to me, leaning in and resting her head on my side.

There we sat, hand-in-hand, watching the world go by. When I looked into her big brown eyes she looked up at me, squeezed my hand…and began masturbating with her other hand!

She was furiously rubbing and thumping her baboon parts with every fiber of her being. She panted and grunted and made it quite clear to me that she was NOT going to live with this platonic relationship any longer! Flattering, but unsettling to say the least.

I very carefully removed myself from the situation and got Irvin. We laughed a good laugh over the event and agreed that it would be best if I avoid her until this monthly urge of hers passed. She looked back at me with a sad face as Irvin led her back to her seat. That look would follow me for the remainder of our time together.

A few years later I found myself working with Irvin one last time. When I asked him where “my girlfriend” was he told me that she had died the previous year at the age of 23.

I asked him what had happened and he explained she had a form of leukemia. However that was not what killed her. During her treatments she developed a problem with a valve in her heart and died of a heart attack.

With a smug grin he said, “I guess you can say she died of a broken heart, Andy.”

While I found the joke amusing I was of course, upset to hear the news. These things happen in the circus but you never get used to the idea of losing an animal any more than you get used to the idea of losing a family member. Irvin had that baboon since she was a baby and she was one of his best animals. I lost a truly unique figure in my life as an entertainer.

Hot Air

Ever wonder if it's politicians, self-important pundits,
or bitch-whine-and-moan floggers (who frequently ventilate
about their unfavorite politicos and pundits
or the latest thing that vexes them)
who generate the most hot air?

I can't decide between the lot of them.

Talk is cheap. "Put your money where your mouth is".
Actions speak louder than words.
Say and Do something positive, instead.
Build with your hearts and hands, instead
of tearing down with your destructive words.

We ideally teach our children not to be whiners.
As adults, many of us forget that lesson,
thinking instead that many heated words
will actually get something accomplished.

I'm just sayin'.

My Favorite Circus or Showbiz Story:

(I wrote this in October 2009 and originally posted it on my page on the site, "Follow The Arrows" -

http://followthearrows.ning.com).

My favorite circus memory, after meeting my wife, Nini, happened in Chicago in October, 1976 at the old iron and glass arena near the old stockyards.
We'd played there some weeks already - the weather usually cloudy, chilly, and damp.
It was a Saturday morning show - too early in the morning that day. I wasn't feeling well - tired, lonesome, a little sad... just feeling down.
I dry shaved that morning, and my skin reminded me of its objection to that as I applied my clown makeup. I had a bit of a headache from trying to rinse out the blues the night before. Even pie car coffee couldn't wash the bad taste out of my mouth. Brother, I was feeling sorry for myself!
I was doing meet and greet on the track floor as our guests came filing in along the rope fence by the track as they made their way to their seats.
I was doing my best to put my heart into it, but my heart just wasn't cooperating.
Then I heard a small, clear little voice calling out, "Clown! Clown!", with the rise and fall tone of one trying to get my attention.
I turned to my left, and saw running down the track toward me a little cherub of a girl no more than five years old - running with just a remnant of 'toddle' in her gait. She looked like a little doll - little chubby legs with white ankle socks and black patent shoes, frilly dress, navy coat that gathered at the waist, a beaming round face with the biggest of toothy smiles and such bright eyes and big ringlets of auburn curly hair.
Following at a trot several paces behind her was her mother, a well dressed, handsome, willowy woman with a flustered and embarrassed look on her face.
As the little girl got close, she raised up both her arms signaling she wanted me to catch her and pick her up in my arms - which I did without even thinking about it.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeeeeeezed with a big hug, and then leaned back with her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes and said, "I love you, clown!".
I was stunned and I could just get out the words,
"I love you, too, sweetheart."
She kissed my cheek and then got down - and she skipped stepped over to her mother and took her hand, walking away to find their seats.
As she went with her mother, I saw her looking up at her with a thoroughly happy expression, and telling her, "I talked with the clown, mama! I talked with the clown!"
Up the bleacher stairs they went, and I just stood there, arms at my sides, just watching them until I couldn't see them any more.
I heard a collective and soft, "Awwwwwwwwww....." from my right, from the folks I'd just been greeting when the little angel jumped into my arms and into my heart. They all had eyes as moist as mine.
That little girl, that little angel would be in her late thirties by now.
Wherever she is, I just want her to know that on that morning, with her expression of pure affection, joy, and a child's simple love,
she reminded me that I am loved and changed my outlook for good.
God indeed sent me an angel.

Don't Tell Me, Show Me.

The president's speech to school kids, on the face of it, was alright by me.

Regardless of the overheated rhetoric on all sides of this matter, what he said was good for kids to hear.

However, as with ANY politician, what they say is not as important as what they do. Actions speak louder than words. Keep your eyes wide open.

Recalling a saying I heard while in show business, "Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see."
Frankly, I really don't trust any politician fully, just like I hesitate to trust a lawyer not paid by me.
Remember the old saw about lawyers? - "How can you tell when a lawyer is lying? His lips are moving.". The same holds true for politicos.

I took 'read my lips' with a grain of salt (rock salt size).
With any public office holder, I would say,
"Don't tell me who you are, SHOW me who you are. Your say-so is not enough.
I'll decide for myself about your trustworthiness."

He's my president, too.

But, I won't back him blindly or uncritically.

How They Originated...... ?

Butt Prints In The Sand

One night I had a wondrous dream,
One set of footprints there was seen,
The footprints of my precious Lord,
But mine were not along the shore.

But then some stranger prints appeared,
And I asked the Lord, "What have we here?"
Those prints are large and round and neat,
"But Lord, they are too big for feet."

"My child," He said in somber tones,
"For miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to walk in faith,
But you refused and made me wait."

"You disobeyed, you would not grow,
The walk of faith, you would not know,
So I got tired, I got fed up,
And there I dropped you on your butt."

"Because in life, there comes a time,
When one must fight, and one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand,
Or leave their butt prints in the sand."

- author unknown -