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Quarantine

Renee got her results back.

And?

Positive.

Not what you want to hear after you just went on a weekend camping trip with Renee, your college aged daughter, five of your other kids, a son-in-law, your lovely wife and three grandkids.

We found out on Sunday that one of Renee’s roommates tested positive for COVID. Renee left immediately to go get tested. We weren’t too worried because she wasn’t too worried.

I don’t share a bathroom with her. And the only time I’ve seen in the past week was when I walked past her in the hallway.

Still we anxiously waited for the results. I have a daughter getting married on Friday.

But, we weren’t worried. . .much.

And then today, the results came back. So, what happens now?

First off, a two week quarantine. Not a simple, “wear a mask and social distance.” Nope. More of a “lock the doors and use the WalMart delivery service” quarantine.

And we went to get tested, right?

Nope.

Turns out if you don’t have symptoms, they want you to wait until seven days after your exposure. Okay, we just sit around for a week. Wedding on Friday? Yeah, good luck. Not going to happen with us there. Well, it will happen. We just won’t be there.

And I have three daughters who are pregnant. One of them might be induced on Saturday. New grandchild? Not with us there.

But, it’s cool. Sure, we all work from home. . .except my son who works at Burger King, and my daughter who volunteers at a discount clothing store. She’s now at home.

But, I work from home. And my son does his college schooling remotely. But, my high schooler is now stuck at home. Oh, and no football practice.

Varsity football games are by invitation only. We have five tickets set aside for us. My friend, whose son is also on the team texted me before he found out about our quarantine.

Do you have any tickets available for this Friday’s game?

Funny you should ask.

I haven’t been to a Mason’s meeting since February. We finally got permission to go back to lodge. . .this Thursday. Nope, not with me.

I have one son who is waiting to serve a mission. He spends a lot of time playing Call of Duty online. He’s going to be okay you’d think. We don’t let him play when his siter the missionary is home. Oops.

The family meeting was fun. . .in a “let’s disappoint everyone at the same time” kind of way.

We have a big house. We’ll see over the next to weeks if it’s big enough.

Stay safe

Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.

Follow him on
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com

(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved

When Your Kid Things, “My Dad Can Fix Anything”

I finished replacing the power steering pump on my son’s 2005 Pontiac Grand Prix. The pump went in much easier than it came out. Coming out required a literal 2×4 to pry the engine a fraction of an inch away from the firewall.

I still have some follow up work to do. I think I need to flush the power steering system and then bleed it.

Do you want to know a secret? I’ve never replaced the power steering pump on a 2005 Pontiac Grand Prix. I’ve also never flushed a power steering system, nor bled one.

My kids think I can fix anything.

When I was about 13 my brother, who was 15 had a remote control airplane. This was about 1978. Remote control airplanes weren’t controlled by a radio. At least not the ones that we could afford. Instead they were sort of fly-by-wire. You plane had two wires that came out of the left wingtip. These wires connected to a simple controller, like you’d use for a kite. You flew the plane by starting the gasoline engine, letting it get up to speed and then spinning around in a circle until the gas ran out, or you or it crashed. Three or four revolutions and the pilot was pretty loopy.

But, it had a real gas engine. The problem was it didn’t actually work. My brother’s plane. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the engine to start. If you’ve ever unsuccessfully tried to start a chainsaw, or lawnmower, or weedeater, or pretty much anything with a motor, you know how frustrating it can be.

My brother was going to throw it away. I convinced him to give it to me.

I didn’t know anything about airplane engines, large or small. But, I had a screwdriver and a pair of pliers. I disassembled the engine and laid it out on my bedroom floor. I didn’t notice anything obviously broken. So, after thoroughly cleaning each part, I put the entire thing back together and put it into the plane.

No one was more surprised than me when the engine started up. I had no idea what I did, but apparently I did it correctly. Ironically, the first time I flew it, I nosedived it into the pavement and cracked the fuselage. It never flew again.

The point though, was that one flight was enough. It worked.

That’s been my experience with cars. I don’t know how to do a lot of things. But, apparently it’s enough to know about things. Of course, we have the Internet now. I watched several Youtube videos on how to replace the power steering pump in a 2005 Pontiac Grand Prix. I watched a couple showing how to flush the power steering system and bleed it.

But, do you know what a Youtube video won’t show you? When the guy on the video says, “You have to twist the pump around, but eventually you can remove it.” Or when you are trying to replace the two bolts that hold the power steering pump to the engine and you have to thread them through the access holes in the power steering pulley and then blindly line them up with the bolt holes tucked away under the alternator.

Every time I look at a new car repair I remember that 13 year old boy staring at a disassembled airplane engine on my bedroom floor. And every time I complete a repair, I remember the excitement of that first flight.

That might be why I am always really nervous on that first test drive.

Stay safe

Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.

Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com

(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved

If Someone Left You An Anonymous Gift. . .Would You Check The Security Cameras?

It’s strange that I don’t have to ask if you have a security system. I mean, doesn’t everyone?

Here’s the setup. You get up in the morning and find a present outside your garage door. No, not that kind of present. One that you might actually like. No note.

You made these contributions anonymously. Why?

I wanted them to be anonymous.
-Absence of Malice

Would you check the security cameras? I mean, the person obviously wanted to remain anonymous. Otherwise he (or she) would leave a note, right?

I asked my friends on Facebook. There responses spanned the gammit. Some didn’t want to know. Some wanted someone else to check for them. Others were admit that “Of course!” they would check. Some even suggested they would check the cameras even before checking the package.

I hadn’t even thought of that. The idea that it might be dangerous. We have a sign on door identifying that we have people who are auto-immune compromised in our house. So, UPS and FedEx just leave packages on the porch. We don’t even think twice about checking a package.

Maybe we should.

But, this time “the package” didn’t seem dangerous at all. In fact, a close friend could not have picked a more appropriate gift for me. It was two gifts, actually. A brand new black Stanley rolling toolchest and a used red Snap-on toolchest.

Snap-on tools are considered some of the finest tools available. In fact, if you had offered me my choice of a used Snap-on or a new Stanley, I would probably take the Snap-on. But, I didn’t need to choose. I had both.

And it was obvious that the boxes weren’t there by accident. They were practically hidden behind the car that I’m replacing the power steering pump on.

This wasn’t the first time we had found something in our yard. The first was a baby stroller. But, we live at the bottom of our cul-de-sac and we assumed that it must have rolled into our yard. None of our neighbors claimed to have seen it before. We posted in the neighborhood Facebook groups and no one claimed it.

I now think that it was probably the same benefactor as the tool chests. (I never did think the stroller could have rolled that far into our yard.)

The toolchests will be put to use immediately. No mechanic ever has too many tools or too many chests to hold them in.

The cameras hold 3-4 months worth of recordings. I can choose to go back and check in teh future. Or I can choose to never check.

I think I have an idea of where they came from. And yet, by not checking, I can assume they are from any of my neighbors. If I check the cameras, I limit it to a single person. A person who apparently doesn’t want to be known.

What would you do? Would you remove the doubt? Would you remain in the dark?

I think a little mystery is good from time to time.

Stay safe

Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.

Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com

(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved

You Have All The Time In The World. . .But Limited Space

Some of my friends own bug-out bags. A bug-out bag is a bag that is fully stocked and ready to grab-and-go in an emergency.

We created one when when we were going to have a baby. We had it stocked and ready to grab. . And we did. Three times. My friends’ bug-out bags are more for the end of the world emergency. Regardless, of the purpose, the contents of a bug-out bag are carefully chosen.

The point of a bug-out bag is to have what you need ready to go at a moments notice. But, what about the other situation. Suppose you have plenty of time, but limited space? What would you choose to take?

Several years ago, I found myself, and worse, my family, in a terrible situation. I had to move my family from Athlestane, Wisconsin to Seattle, Washington. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that I was broke, unemployed and nearly $100,000 in debt. Oh, and I had a wife and 12 kids.

I managed to scrape up a little money. Enough rent a u-haul trailer to pull behind our Suburban. We had a tent trailer we pulled behind the van.

Remember the 12 kids? That’s a lot of stuff. We had to decide what to take and what to leave. We told each kid they were limited to one bin for clothes and one bin for toys. Nothing else.

That was 24 bins. A lot of space. We took some food, dishes and household stuff. But, again, just the bare minimum. And that left precious room for anything else.

What would you take? More toys for the kids? Furniture? Books? (We had tons of books.)

We ended up taking my lovely wife’s sewing machines, and fabric. She’s a wonderful seamstress. If needed she could make clothes for our kids.

We took my tools. Nearly all of them. We sold the chainsaw and the scroll saw. Those were luxury tools. But, the mechanic tools? I could use them to fix my cars. The shop tools? I could use those to make beds or partitions to make smaller rooms out of bigger ones.

When it came down to it, we prioritized functionality. We had no idea when our situation would improve. And space was at a premium. It was a scary time. For me, for my lovely wife and for my children who were the real innocent victims.

We did have one concession to beauty in the ocean of our ugliness. My lovely wife’s piano. It’s not an expensive piano. Not hugely. It was the first major purchase I made when we had first been married years earlier. Did we have room to take it?

We didn’t have room not to.

What would you take, if you only had room for your most precious or valuable items?

Stay safe

Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.

Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com

(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved

Raccoons And Power Steering Pumps

My neighbor had chickens. Not just normal chickens. He had $600 special chickens from Romania and places like that. He also had an obnoxious rooster. But, this story really isn’t about the rooster, unfortunately.

The chickens would roost in the trees behind our house. And the rooster would too. The chickens we didn’t mind. But, the rooster was noisy. If you think that roosters only crow when the sun comes up, you’ve never been around roosters much. The noise came right into our bedroom every time that stupid rooster saw the light from a car, or a flashlight or even the moon.

But, like I said, the story is really about the hens. One day my neighbor mentioned that he was starting to lose hens. He’d find a clump of feathers the next day beneath the tree. He asked me to keep an eye out.

One night around midnight, I heard his hens cackling. They were making a terrible racket. Whatever was getting my neighbor’s chickens was getting them right now.

I put on my slippers and robe and headed out to the backyard with a flashlight. I liked my neighbor and was anxious to help him idenitfy whatever was killing his chickens. And then I had a thought.

Cougars.

Cougars like chickens and they hunt at night. It might be a cougar. I didn’t want to meet a cougar in my backyard. Slightly less brave, but still determined, I left my backdoor open with the light on. I carefully counted the steps it would take me to get back to the door.

My son has a car. It’s a 2005 Pontiac Grand Prix. It used to be my car. I’ve done plenty of work on it in the past. I sold it to my son a couple years ago. After selling it, I stopped doing doing maintenance on it. Part of being an adult with a car is taking care of your car.

My son is ready to head out on a two year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He “gifted” the car to his younger brother who is 17 years old. That means the car is back to being mine. . .sort of.

My younger son enjoyes having a car to drive to school. But, like most kids who are specifically “car” guys, he isn’t much for maintenance. The car started to develop some issues. Finally, he declared,

I can’t drive the Pontiac anymore.

Why not?

It won’t turn at all!

My son had never driven a car without power steering. They are really hard to turn. The car was out of power steering fluid. I added power steering fluid and the car was (almost) working again.

So, anything else wrong with it?

Yeah, it makes a weird clicking noise when it turns to the right.

Is that it?

Oh, and the air conditioning doesn’t work any more.

I taught my kids better than this. Really I did. The AC issue is an easy one. I started working on the clicking noise. We’d recently replaced the outer tie rods and I thought that might be the issue. One of them had a blown seal. I replaed it, but the noise didn’t go away.

I put the car up on blocks and pulled the front wheels. I then put the car in drive and tried turning the steering wheel back and forth. No weird clicking noise.

Was it a bad half axle? Bearings? Tie rods? Transmission?

Until I knew what the problem was, I couldn’t fix it. My neighbor came to help. We put the wheels back on the car and took it for a test drive. Sure enough, turning right, we got a weird noise. He stood in the parking lot while I literally drove circles around him.

Power steering pump.

Are you sure?

Yeah. Even when you stopped I could hear the pump cycling. That’s what’s making the noise.

That was actually all I had time for today. But, now I know I need a new power steering pump and a couple hours to install it.

That’s the Power Steering pump down at the bottom

Once I know the problem, I can fix it.

As I made my way into my dark back yard, the vision of cougars came to mind again. I climbed up on my kids’ play fort and aimed my flashlight across my back fence to the trees where the chickens were still squawking.

My lights flashed across the Western Washington foliage. Finally outlining an animal with a familiar bandit mask. It was a raccoon. And he had a mouth full of chicken. (Unfortunately not that stupid rooster.)

I let my neighbor know about my late night safari.

Thanks. Now that I know what it is I can trap it.

And that’s what he did. He set a live trap and baited it with chicken, of all things. Two days later he had his raccoon.

Do you mind if I bring the kids over to see the raccoon. I know it’s wild, but I’d like them to see it.

Sorry, they can’t.

Why not?

The raccoon is dead.

I thought you didn’t want to kill it?

Well, I didn’t. But, I was trying to figure out what to do with it and then it growled at me.

My neighbor was not a patient man. That was the end of the raccoon problem.

I’m still disappointed they never did get that stupid rooster.

Stay safe

Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.

Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com

(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved

Where I Am Has Become Where I’m From

My little town of Pleasant Grove, Utah felt a little more like home last week. I’m not originally from Pleasant Grove. I’ve lived here for many years. But, I was originally born in Washington. I grew up in the Olympia, Washington area. Western Washington is green. Famously green. Washington is called the Evergreen state. The state tree is an evergreen. The state holiday is a rain delay.

Well, at least Western Washington is that way. Eastern Washington is a lot like Utah, without the mountains, or the canyons. But, West of the Cascades is green. Seattle is called the Emerald City. Yes, just like in the Wizard of Oz.

Moving to Utah was hard. I came for school, but married a girl from “back home” who was also attending BYU. We moved back to Washington after a few years. It was just so hard, after growing up literally in the heart of the forest, to live in the desert. It was dry, it was brown, it was hot. It was everything that Washington was not. And I hated it.

We moved back and forth several times. Each time we felt like visitors in Utah and felt at home in Washington. The last time we moved back we chose to live in Pleasant Grove and decided we would stay this time. That was about 10 years ago. And having made the decision to live here permanently, I started to see the beauty of Utah.

At first it was simply the beauty of a sunset in the desert. The sky was painted with reds, orange and yellows. We took the scouts out camping eleven months out of the year. Each season has its beauty. The Fall leaves. The Spring flowers in a high meadow. The sunrise on a Summer’s morning in the Wasatch mountains. The glisten of moonlight on a snow field.

And then there is the landscape. Sand dunes of Little Moab. Slot canyons of Southern Utah. The pines of the High Uintas. And the beauty of our cities and towns, especially our little town of Pleasant Grove.

But, still, the green! What about the green? Utah is a desert. Western Washington is a rain forest. How can they even compare? In my memory they could not.

I made a trip back to Washington a couple weeks ago. We had a tragic death in the family and we went “home” to bury our dead. But, a strange thing happened while I was there. I didn’t feel at home. I felt like a visitor. And I missed Pleasant Grove and my family. I stayed at my brother’s house. His yard has something that most houses in Western Washington don’t have; a sprinkler system. Here in Pleasant Grove, of course, nearly everyone has a sprinkler system. One of our summer projects was to redo the sprinklers in our yard. My family and I have spent house in the sun digging trenches, replacing heads and getting wet.

My brother’s sprinkler system doesn’t get used very often. It rains in Washington. . .a lot. Not as much as they say on TV, but still, rain is pretty common. We once had 105 days in a row with rain every day. But, it’s the end of August. It’s been a long hot summer in Washington as well as elsewhere in the country. My brother knew family would be gathering at his house and his wife wanted the lawn to look more green.

But, his system was broken. Not badly. It was missing one head and needed a couple other heads replaced. It involved some digging and three different trips to Home Depot. But, honestly, it helped distract me from the painful events of our trip. And I got to feel useful. The sprinkler system worked. His lawn started to green up. And it needed it. See, very few of the lawns in his neighborhood had sprinkler system and it was the end of a long hot summer. Their lawns were all brown. Even his was not the lovely green from my memories. But, here, in dusty, dry, hot Utah, our lawns are green. In fact, driving through Pleasant Grove, we are presented with yard after yard, block after block of beautiful lawns. Some are more green than others, but thanks to the secondary water system, nearly every house in Pleasant Grove has a sprinkler system and a beautiful patch of green.

What I thought I missed from “home” wasn’t even there. Instead, it was here, in my real home, amid the mountains and the canyons and the beautiful desert.

Where I am has become where I’m from.

Stay safe

Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.

Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com

(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved

I’m Sorry I Was Late. . .But, I Didn’t Want To Come

These are the remarks I delivered at my sister’s funeral on Saturday September 12, 2020 in Olympia, Washington.

===============================

I knew this day was coming. But, knowing it was coming didn’t make it any easier.

Jennifer Bliss was born in 1959 in Anchorage, Alaska.

. . .

That’s as far as I got when I sat down to write the events around Jennifer’s life. I wish I could tell you about my sister. I can’t. I’m neither a good enough writer nor a good enough speaker to even begin to share a fraction of her life story. In fact, she had multiple stories.

She was a sister, the glue that held two sets of brothers together.

She was a daughter to two mothers. Both of whom she loved and honored.

She was a cousin. They were the sisters she never had.

She was a musician. Her hands were too small to play the violen or piano. She played them anyway. She passionately pursued her goals. No matter where they took her. She got a degree in and taught music.

She was a daughter of God. Sharing her faith with her brothers and staying loyal to it throughout her life.

She was a traveller. After high school she earned enough money for a two week stay in England. She returned three years later. Just recently she accompanied her mother to Germany. She was planning at least two trips when she died.

She was a teacher. In addition to music, she taught 5th grade. She taught at the Dragon School at Oxford. . .although, not to actual dragons. She taught her brothers to drive, and how to be better men.

And in the last several years she was an advocate. Her former colleagues speak at length of the impact she had in the Washington Mental Health field and on each of them.

She was a mother to three beautiful daughters and a grandmother to six precious grandchildren.

She was an aunt and a great aunt (in more ways than one) many times over.

And she suffered, struggled with mental health issues throughout her life. We feared at times that would be what killed her. But, she vanquished her demons. . .at least for a time. Mental illness never really goes away. She would be the first to acknowledge that. It was her mental health journey that led her to become an author. She wrote “Make bright The Arrows,” chronically the ups and downs of her journey to recovery. As her brother it was hard to read those stories at times.

She was also a friend. We’ve all experienced her advice, her advocacy, her help and her love.

This is supposed to be a life sketch and as I started trying to write down where she’d been and grew up and when she moved and where, I realized those dry pieces of data aren’t Jennifer. Her life was so rich, full and diverse, there was no way I could do justice to even one of her many life stories and certainly not all of them. And like an overly long Academy Award speech, I would certainly miss people, events and stories that are crucial to who she was. . .So, I’m not going to try.

She was the only sister I’ve ever had. I miss her terribly. I never wanted to be giving this speech. I didn’t even really want to be here. Because being here means she is not. My sister loved everyone I suspect.

I know she loved me, my brothers, our parents, her cousins, her daughters and grandchildren. And having read some of the messages you’ve written, I know she shared that love with you too. And that’s the legacy she’ll leave to all of us; have love and compassion for those around you.

Thank you for the opportunity to share with you a little about my sister. While I appreciate the opportunity, I really didn’t want to be here.

Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.

Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com

(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved

Ignore This One. . .It’s Probably Boring

Blogging about blogging is boring. No disrespect to those who have blogs on how to write. Maybe they are only boring to me.

I started this blog many years ago and I kept it up. I didn’t miss a day for years. And then at the end of August I stopped for several weeks.

I’ll write about my reasons in the coming days. I appreciate those who’ve reached out to to ensure I’m okay. I am. . .better than I was.

I’ll try to be more eloquent, and entertaining in coming days.

(I told you it was going to be boring.)

Stay safe

Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.

Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com

(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved

Life And Death Of Jackie Robinson

42: The ultimate answer to life, the Universe and everything.
42: The uniform number worn by Jackie Robinson

Jackie Robinson died today. . .again.

I was sad when COVID cancelled baseball games on April 15. On that day in 1947 a young rookie named Jackie Robinson stepped in to play 1st base for the Brooklyn Dodgers and the era of integrated baseball had begun.

Robinson was a rare talent. He won Rookie of the Year honors and today the award is named in his honor. An even greater honor is that every year on April 15, every baseball club wears #42. Not just one player, but every player, every manager, every coach. They all put on number 42, “so we can’t tell them apart.”

Robinson’s number 42 has been retired by every baseball club in the Major Leagues. No MLB player will ever again wear number 42. The last one to wear it was the great Mariano Rivera. He is the only player to be inducted into the Hall of Fame unanimously. Not even the great Jackie Robinson earned that honor. He earned 78% of the vote on the first ballot.

Baseball decided that Jackie Robinson day wasn’t something that we had to miss this year. Sure, we can’t hold it on the anniversary of his first game. Instead it was held today August 28.

I’m not sure if MLB picked this date on purpose. But, in 1968, 21 years after Robinson made his MLB debut, on August 28, another black man stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC and told us that he had a dream for America.

Yes, today is the anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr’s “I have a Dream” speech. It’s one of the greatest speeches ever spoken. It’s so much more than the “I have a dream” phrase. It speaks of a check that America wrote to its black citizens. And that check came back marked Insufficient Funds.

MLK’s soaring oratory takes us from the hills of Stone Mountain, GA, to Colorado, to New York. It’s a speech full of hope. Yes, and dreams, but mostly a call to action to be better than we have been.

Today is the anniversary of that speech, the culimination of his March on Washington.

It seems fitting that MLB would choose today to honor Jackie Robinson. His leadership helped Major league baseball integrate decades before the rest of the country followed suit.

It was nice to see the Mariners and the California Angels take the field today all wearing 42 with no names.

And if that’s all that happened today, it would be a great day to remember baseball, Jackie Robinson and Martin Luther King. Perhaps, I’d compare Doctor King’s quest for racial justice with today’s Black Lives Matter movement.

But, it’s not all that happened.

The movie “42” was one of the most entertaining Jackie Robinson movies. The brilliant actor Chadwick Bosemann played Robinson and he literally become the great ball player. He movements, even how he dangled his fingers before stealing a base.

It was a masterful movie and Bosemann did an equally masterful job.

Today, at the age of 42, Chadwich Bosemann died. Jackie was a few years older at 53 when he died of a heart attack. It was colon cancer that killed Bosemann.

He is probably best known for his role in Black Panther. But, to me he will always be the person who allowed me to watch Jackie Robinson.

RIP Jackie, and Bosemann.

Stay safe

Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.

Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com

(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved

This Page Intentionally Left Blank

I don’t get sick. Not often anyway. But, there’s more than one kind of sick.

I get stressed. I go to therapy.

Some days I get more stressed than normal.

Today is one of those days.

Stay safe

Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.

Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com

(c) 2020 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved

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