Topics From a Libertarian Point of View

Eulogy Undelivered for My Dad

Posted on 03/23/2011

It’s hard to guess how many lives a man has touched until his friends and family join to honor him on his passing.

My Dad’s guestbook was full, as his life had been.

Gripping your elbow and bragging, always loudly, he’d describe how hard he’d made your kid laugh, how the kid ran off “like a bat out of hell” to escape Dad’s tickling hands, with Dad’s trademark motor sound effects and a hand re-enactment depicting the speed of escape, punctuated with a hearty, deep laugh.

Cackling, the kid would always circle back for more.

Dad spoke the language of children. William A. Roush 1938 - 2011

I was visiting one Easter, and I watched my Dad as he smiled, watching his grandkids raucously pin Uncle Walt on the living room floor in an outnumbered wrestling exhibition. I imagined Dad thinking that every uncle, parent, and grandparent should experience that kind of joy.

That’s the kind of “player” Dad was.

When you’d first meet Dad, you'd know right away what he valued: family, fun, and work. It was all there in his face, in the crinkling of his eyes as he smiled, in his willingness to help.

I’d driven 9 hours to visit Dad in the hospital. Though morning visiting hours didn’t start for another hour, a nurse let me visit.

When I saw him, I knew I’d arrived too late. His face was blank, his eyes closed and unsmiling. The machines were doing his work.

That wasn’t like Dad.

Is anyone ever prepared to accept this kind of reality, when you know you're about to lose someone?

I placed my hand on his forearm; it was warm. I leaned over and told him softly that I was here. I got no reaction.

The ventilator made his body jar and shake. His face was pale and ghostly. The machines had taken his dignity.

His warmth and movement were a mask hiding the deeper reality of his true condition.

I asked him if he could try really hard to wake up, if only for one last moment. I wanted to visit.

I selfishly wanted more time with him, suddenly regretting my distance over the years.

His eyes never opened. I wanted to comfort him, but the drugs were doing that work for him, too.

I wanted to tell him that the rest of us would carry his dreams and memories forward, that he shouldn’t worry--we'd take care of each other, be our brother’s and sister’s keepers. I wanted to explain that he would soon be at peace from his laboring lungs and heart, that he shouldn’t be afraid.

Our last moments were lost to him and would be lost forever.

There were no more words.

I love you, Dad, goodbye.

Who I Am Posted on 05/23/2010

I rarely reflect about my past or how I got here, in Dayton, Ohio, at age 51, divorced, childless, debt-free, fully employed as a technical editor, a published fiction author, fan of mindless TV entertainment, a homeowner, an avid concert-goer and music lover. I don't dwell on mistakes, and I accept what is. Demographically, I'm male, 5'7", 155 pounds, white.

Autobiography Highlights:

Used to camp when I was in the Boy Scouts, but I'm not the outdoorsy type (poison plants don't agree with my complexion).
Taught college level English composition courses. Thought about writing a textbook but didn’t think the world needed another one.
Was an extra in a movie shot in Dayton by a WSU grad Blue Car and handled props for "A Midsummers Nights Dream" and other plays for Sinclair College productions several years ago.
Can’t act; dropped out of acting class. Cant dropkick, either; dropped out of Tae Kwon Do class.
Don’t do comedy, don’t sing, don’t play musical instruments, don’t dance. Lousy tennis player, but I like to watch and go to the ATP championships in Mason, OH.
Like to watch football and played several positions on pee wee teams (until the kids thought it was too weird for a guy my age).
Won a case in small claims court, and lost two. Handled the paperwork for my marriage dissolution and didn’t lose a shirt.
Was a successful teenage runaway from a blended family situation.
Have worked for several corporations, a meat-packing plant, a tobacco plantation, a residential home for the mentally challenged, several fast food concerns, on military installations, as a sanitation engineer, and a teacher. I have also delivered newspapers. I have been a secretary in special interest, nonprofit organizations. I have volunteered to help in Juvenile Diabetes Foundation fund-raising events.
Helped various people start crafts and pet kenneling businesses, but I’ve never been good at managing businesses, just contributing where I could.
Have changed brakes on old cars, master cylinders, starters, and alternators; the mother of self-sufficiency is being too poor for professional mechanics. But you can fall off roofing a house.
I’ve owned an Oldsmobile 88 and a Chevette and a Maverick and a Charger and a Grand Am and a Colt Wagon and a Chrysler E-Class and a Duster and an Impala and a Cavalier and a Lumina and an Accord and a Sentra and a Voyager van and an Econoline Van and a Sonata and some bikes. I don’t like NASCAR and got sick once from the fumes, maybe. I’ve had a drivers license since I was 15.
I’m photosensitive and sneeze looking at the sun after an extended absence. My pee smells funny after I eat asparagus. After eating hotdogs or baloney, my burps taste rat-lippy. My hearing and eyesight are poor. I get sneezy when I mow the lawn. I have severe skin reaction to poison oak, but I allow it to grow in my yard for the sense of living on the edge.
Been in three car accidents, none my fault and one of which put me in the hospital with a concussion for a day, where I developed a fondness for nurses because they seemed kind and take care of people and some are very pretty.
Several police cruisers and a paddy wagon once surrounded a paneled moving van I was driving because I clipped a neighbor’s garage eave and I drove away. That turned out to be a frightening minor accident.
My last grandparent died in 1994. Mother died when I was 7, stepmother in 1995. I ate too many donuts when my first stepmother had a donut shop job and got acid reflux disease before they had a name for it. The best meals I make are spaghetti and spinach quiche; fresh eggs are essential for quiche.
Can’t hold my booze. So I’ll never know for sure whether Canadian whiskey is as good as Kentucky whiskey. And good Key Lime pie is hard to come by in the Midwest.
Go to rock concerts, local and out of town. Been to local theater plays, musical theater productions, philharmonic concerts, ballet (mime set to dance), and operas, and don’t find them interesting. Not very interested in art. Horrible at math, and have no parenting skills. Don’t like poetry, romance novels, or Shakespeare.
I like to play Spades, Hearts, Euchre, and Canasta; one of my grandmas taught me Canasta.
Moved around a lot as a child (before Ritalin) when my dad was active in the Navy as a Chief Petty Officer: San Diego, Honolulu, Virginia, Ohio.
My dad has had triple bypass surgery and treatments for melanoma skin cancer.
I’m fascinated with forensics. Not so psyched about minor league baseball.
Little boobies are usually enough.
I’m afraid of heights, tight spaces, horses, and snakes. It’s pretty easy to understand how guns can kill you. When you’re scared of everything and your mind works overtime, it’s hard to take naps.
However, I’m not afraid of technology (not a Luddite), but only recently got a cell phone. Cancelled my television cable service and didn’t miss the shows much, catching many of them online through TV Guide or at the network home page. I don’t surf the Web much and never stole an itune.
I like monosodium glutamate instead of salt on fried eggs.
Helmet and Fuel have a number of songs that I like. Polka music isn’t all that good. Willa Cather has written some interesting stories, but none as good as Faulkner’s.
Sometimes I wonder whether carpeting is worth the trouble, or whether the stories in Cosmo hinder rather than help women.
Generally, I understand plumbing, but electricity is scary.
My neighbor once set her house on fire, killing her cat and two dogs. She had emotional problems that were especially bad all the time.
The number of words in a sentence don’t necessarily determine readability, and fewer words can decrease intended comprehension.
They don’t really mean it, so corporations pander when they publicize their efforts to achieve a concept of cultural diversity.
I rarely miss The McGlaughlin Group on PBS, but I don’t understand the appeal of Howard Stern.
Possum Creek is a funny name for a wildlife park, but I think possum are cute if they’re not living in your garage.
People who set boundaries are likely hiding their true feelings about you (dislike or distrust or dismissiveness) and their relationship with you.
I don’t like fixing up old houses.
I may or may not have a security clearance, but I can't tell you.
I don’t like to talk with others when I’m jogging.
Intellect should dictate in 99% of daily decisions, versus 1% allowance for emotion.
I haven’t memorized the geography of the world.
Rarely depressed, often optimistic, especially with a few squares of good fudge.
Not much for crowds but tolerate them for entertainments that I really value.
Never abused drugs and have none of the false addictions (gambling, overeating, sexual promiscuity, alcoholism). Have no tattoos or piercings. No longer smoke cigarettes, and drink very little beer.
Not a big fan of fancy dining; dinner should not cost as much as a plumber.
Don’t like roller coasters much (caps don’t stay on and things in pockets don’t stay in) or amusement parks. Cotton candy is good maybe twice a year and more often if you like licking your fingers.
I’ve seen "As Good as It Gets," "Wings of the Dove," and "Body Heat" at least two times each, and actually do remember some lines. I liked "Minority Report" and "Breakable," but thought "Signs" was bogus. There are some good cartoon movies, too.

I lose interest very quickly when I’m not intellectually stimulated.

Continued Fondness for TeachingPosted on 06/02/2010

My heart returns to teaching. I have a BA in English Education from Wright State University, and while working toward my BA (and BS in Psychology), I worked part time for three years in WSU's Writing Center, tutoring mostly freshmen students who needed help writing essays. Through WSU's graduate teaching assistantship program, I taught six quarters of English composition while working toward my MA in Liberal Arts, with a technical writing minor.

After college and some corporate tech writing under my belt, I landed an adjunct teaching position as a second job at Edison Community College in Piqua, but the pay was lousy ($500 per course), the drive was long, and the students didn't have an inherent interest in composition, taking it as a required prerequisite for their majors. I was actually fired from RETS Tech Center (now a college); the students staged a coup mid-semester because they were too stupid to learn what verbs were. Years later, a woman at a concert recognized me from somewhere and asked me to help her remember. I said, "You fired me once." We shook hands as civilized people do who know the idiocy of holding grudges. It was the best course of action for both of us. Two months after letting me go in mid-term, she told me, after a miserable 10 months at RETS Tech Center, she herself quit as director of RETS English studies program. We agreed that we're both happier for it.

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