You’ve probably never heard of Dick King. Oh, you might have if you live in my neighborhood in Pleasant Grove, Utah. But, outside of this little corner of Utah County, you’ve probably never heard his name.
You’ve probably heard of Don King, the flamboyant boxing promoter. He was involved with everyone from Muhammad Ali to Mike Tyson. You’ve no doubt heard of Stevens King. One a world famous horror writer author of such classics as The Shining and Children of the Corn, and the Republican Representative to Congress from New York.
But, Dick King had no such fame.
It’s unusual for anyone to go by the first name Dick any more. It’s typically short for Richard. My brother is named Richard and would never dream of using the name Dick. My birth father, who is more of Dick King’s generation was also a Richard and he is known as Dick.
I think it was probably disgraced president Richard Nixon that soured us on the name Dick. He was, at times known as Dick Nixon, or after the Watergate scandal broke, he was known as Tricky Dick.
I’ve known Dick King for about eight years. He was old when we moved into the neighborhood. But, a wonderful man. He had a great love of music. Every year our church choir would stop rehersals after the Easter concert, take the summer off and then start up again in the Fall. During those off months, Dick would organize a men’s choir. He would pick the music and conduct. I sand with the men’s choir a couple of years. We had multiple four and six part harmonies. I once sang second tenor. And I had a different line than the other second tenor.
Dick’s mind started to go the last few years. In fact, during the last year I sang with them, he constantly asked me what part I was singing. I’d patiently explain that I was singing second tenor.
Oh good. We need a second tenor. Great.
And ten minutes later we’d have the same conversation.
Dick died last week. His funeral is tomorrow in the local chapel where he’s attended church for as long as I’ve known him.
Funerals are times for reflection. Our church congregation is using social media to try to make sure we have a substantial turnout for Dick and his dear widow. Apparently they had a single child. And their son has a few children.
I remember an old joke about a funeral.
Three guys were talking about what they wanted people to say at their funerals.
The first guy said, “I want them to say I was a good husband.”
The second guy said, “I want them to say I was a good father.”
The third guys said, “I want them to say, ‘Hey look, he’s moving.'”
In actuality, we won’t care what is said at our funeral. We’ll be dead. But, that doesn’t change the desire to leave something behind us. To leave a legacy. To leave the world just a little better than we found it.
During my father’s funeral, my mother worried that there would “only be 28 people” who attended. I spoke at my father’s funeral and started my remarked with, “Yes Mom, there are more than 28 people here.”
I don’t know how many will show up to pay their respects to Dick. I’ve been fighting a cold this week, but I’ll be there, to remember Dick, support his widow, but also to let my presence be a reminder that he left the world a little bit better than he found it.
Don’t wait until their funerals to tell your loved ones how much they mean to you.
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.
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There’s only one thing that I did wrong
I stayed in Mississippi a day too long
– Dixie Chicks Mississippi
Having impeccable timing is sometimes about getting somewhere right on time.
I got there just short of too late.
– Danny Glover’s character in Silverado
But, I think more often it depends on knowing the right time to leave.
Leave it to me to be holdin’ the matches
When the fire trucks show up and there’s nobody else to blame
– Miranda Lambert Mama’s Broken Heart
So, how do you know when it’s time to get out? Out of an argument, out of a relationship or out of a job?
I don’t know.
In fact, in my entire career, I’ve missed the signs more often than I’ve got the timing right. My only real success was leaving WordPerfect Corporation. I was being courted by Microsoft, but I really didn’t want to go. And then WordPerfect announced layoffs, including voluntary layoffs the same weekend I was on a recruiting visit to Redmond. I got a nice severance package. My lovely wife also picked up a severance package. I had a job that I was able to step directly into. (After a six month non-compete phase.) I timed that one pretty good.
But, mostly I tend to stick around too long. I did it at Microsoft. After a nine year career, I was in a job that was way out of my skillset. I should have walked away. I was too scared. I kept thinking that if I worked just a little harder, I could succeed. Eventually, it became obvious that I was hurting the team. I was giving the opportunity to be successful elsewhere.
How do you know? What are the signs?
I have friends who are constantly looking for their next position. They bounce from company to company, giving up vacation days and seniority for lucrative signing bonuses.
There are aspects of business that I’ve gotten better at as I’ve become more experienced. Finding the right time to leave isn’t one of them.
Have you ever nailed the timing perfectly? Left at the perfect time to maximize your earnings?
Of have you been guilty of “staying in Mississippi a day too long”?
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.
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A woman giving birth can almost imagine the pain of man flu.
– Every woman everywhere
I went to the doctor today. I don’t often go to the doctor. But, this could be serious. I wanted to catch it before it got any worse.
What, you ask?
Well, I’m sick. Oh sure it started with a sore throat and I was able to power through with the help of cough drops. (I ran out at one point and that was kind of hard, but I got through it.)
But, then, it started getting worse. I had a stuffy nose. . .It was really stuffed up. Oh, and I still had to keep sucking on the cough drops because of the throat thing.
But, I figured that some people had it worse than me. No one I can currently think of, but I’m sure others have suffered and it would be wrong for me to make too much of a deal about my impending doom.
But, it still got worse. A cough developed. Yeah, I KNOW! Even with cough drops. And My throut got really sore. . I’m sure it’s probably red. It might be bleeding, or that might just be the cherry cough drops, but either way, it really started to get unpleasant.
But, I’m not gonna be a burden on anyone. Mostly I suffered in silence. . .other than the hacking cough. But, of course, I didn’t need to go to the doctor. I mean, it’s just a cold, or possibly the beginnings of walking pneumonia. But, I can still push on.
But, today. Today was the worst. My ear started to hurt. I mean, this could be serious, right?
So, I went to the doctor.
So, does it hurt all the time?
Well, no. Just when I burp.
When, you burp?
Yeah, I get an intense pain during the burp.
And then it goes away?
Yeah. Until the next time I burp.
Good news. The doctor tells me I’ll live. And despite my fears, I have neither the flu, pneumonia or any unpronouncable condition. I apparently have a mild cold and a slight ear infection.
The doctor perscriped an antibiotic for my ear. But, suggested I use it only if the pain becomes too severe.
We’ve found that an untreated ear infection runs its course in about six days. If we treat it with an antibiotic, we cut that down to five and a half days. Advil and Tylonol are probably your best bet.
How will I know if it’s more serious?
If you go ten days with no relief, come back and see us.
So, I’ll push through. I’m in day four of my ten days of devastation. I’m still eating cough drops like candy and now I’ve added Advil and Tylonol.
If this is like childbirth, I have no idea why any woman would agree to have more than a single child.
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.
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I had a lot of dogs growing up. Seems like we almost always had a dog, sometimes two.
I don’t remember any talk about “it will teach him responsibility.” Or, “your dog, you have to clean up after him.” Dogs just were a part of our family. They lived with us. And too often in my memory, they died. Old age, hit by cars.
What I don’t remember much of is my dogs getting sick. At least not enough to justify the phrase, “Sick as a dog.”
Seems like it’s always men who use the phrase “sick as a dog.” I tend to have a high pain threshold. A doctor once used dry ice on my foot,
Let me know when it gets to hurting too much to bear.
I never stopped him. He finished the procedure. I put on my shoe. And then I walked out to my car and went into shock.
But, pain tolerance and sickness tolerance are completely different. I can play games in my head with the pain, right? I could be the heroic prisoner vowing, “I’ll never talk.” I could be a Avenger pushing through the pain to accomplish the mission, “I can do this all day.”
But, being sick? That’s completely different. When I get sick, (I think when any man gets sick, we turn into three year old toddlers. Yes, I want my mother! And maybe some milk and cookies.
There’s nothing noble in being sick, in “pushing through.” You never saw an Avenger fighting off a cold while they tried to take out the Hydra base.
I don’t have dogs any more. My lovely wife is allergic to all types of dog hair and dander.
Guess I’ll just have to content myself with being sick as one.
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.
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Today was a holiday here in the United States. Chances are it was a holiday where you live too. There are few holidays that transcend borders. And those that do, like Christmas and Easter are religious based.
Today was not a religious holiday, although some would call it a holy, or hallowed day.
- Armistice Day (New Zealand, France, Belgium, Serbia)
- Remembrance Day (United Kingdom, Australia, Canada, Commonwealth of Nations)
- Veterans Day (United States)
Not only is the day a holiday, so is the time: 11:00 AM. It was at 11:00 am, the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, in 1918, in a train car at Le Francport near Compiegne that the Germans signed an armistice formally ending the fighting in what at the time was called “The War To End All Wars.”
Sadly it woudl be only a few short years later that bigger and worse wars were visited on the world. But, in 1918, the fighting forces of the world laid down their weapons and said, “It’s over.”
In the United States, Memorial Day is a day to honor those soldiers who have passed away. Veterans day (not Veteran’s) is to honor those serving.
To my brother, Richard Bliss (United States Army retired), and to my daughter Katrina James (1st LT United States Army) I say, you have the gratitude of a proud brother and father, and a grateful nation. That extends to all veterans everywhere.
Thank you.
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.
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I sat quietly in the corner of an small Greek restaurant in Athens. I was in Greece for two days and after wanted to experience authentic Greek fair. The waiter, spoke very good English and took my order of “Please bring me a tradition Greek dish.” While waiting another couple came in. They were apparently going on a cruise. And they were apparently Americans.
Because they felt the need to make sure the entire restaurant heard about it, and how “YOU KNOW, BACK HOME WE HAVE SOMETHING LIKE THIS.” I’m not even sure what “this” he was referring to.
They were a nice enough couple, if someone ethnocentric and very, very loud. I’m not sure they remember their dinner in Athens as much as I remember mine. (The food was excellent, by the way.)
I’m not in Athens this week. I’m nearly as far away from Athens as I am from America. I’m spending the week in Manila. I’m here for work, but there is obviously time to see the city, as well.
Manila is a city of twenty million people. It’s hard to fathom. If you took everyone who lives in Utah and they hosted one Philippino, for a trip to Salt Lake City, there would still be 5 times as many people left in the city of Manila as there are in the entire state of Utah.
Manila is also a city with history. In America, we tend to think of anything more than 200 years as old. There are places in Asia where 200 years is recent history. And as the age of a people, it’s not even hardly noticable.
Yesterday I went to lunch with our team.
Rodney, where do you want to go eat?
I’d love to try some authentic Philippino food.
We ended up in a nice restaurant at one of the numerous malls. We had what I later found out was Ox tail soup. And rice. There’s always rice. The spices were different than I’m used to. But, the food was delicious and eating with a group who could explain that the red pasty-sauce gets mixed with the soup, not the rice, made it even better.
I’ve noticed a couple of interesting things since being here. And, of course, by “interesting” I mean, “different from what we have back home.” The first one was stoplights. I’ve had a driver or used taxis while here. (I have no desire to share the road with 20,000,000 drivers in their city.) But, very few intersections have stop lights. And it works great.
The was a city in Europe that last year decided to eliminate most of their traffic symbols and lights. People were responsible to watch out for each other. Traffic accidents went down significantly.
The drivers in Manila flow like water. Cars move effortlessly back and forth across lane markets in a beautiful display of chaotic synchronicity. Motor bikes flow into any open space in and around the larger vehicles.
And yet, the only horns used are brief beep-beep in a sort of “Hey, I’m here, in case you didn’t see me,” manner. It’s actually quite beautiful in a “moving photograph” sort of way. Of course, I’m not sure that I, as a driver from America, would find it nearly as serene if I were sitting behind the wheel. But, from the backseat, it’s very soothing.
Security is very visible. Malls have metal detectors as you enter. My hotel has a guard house where incoming vehicles are stopped and checked by dogs and bomb detecting, hand held ground mirrors. Then, a metal detector and x-ray machine to get in. Mall cops are often armed with pistol grip shotguns. And yet, there is not a feelings of fear or nervousness. I asked a coworker if it’s always like this, or if there was some specific threat.
No, always like this. You know, just to keep everyone safe.
There also is simply a feeling of politeness that permeates the city. “Please,” “Thank you,” and “Excuse me” are heard constantly. doors are held open by total strangers. The elevator has a nice “Please observe silence.”
I’m not sure how much of Manila I will get to experience while I’m here. And I’m trying very hard to not be the American in the Greek Restaurant.
Because, after all, I’m not from 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.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2019 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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I post these scribbles here every Monday through Friday. I try to be consistent since y’all are coming to read them. I’ve been pretty good at maintaining my M-F schedule for the past five or six years.
I missed it today. Well, I missed it on Friday. Or it might have been Saturday. Today is (probably) Sunday, so I definitely missed it somewhere. Or perhaps not. Honestly I’m not sure.
I’m in Manila this week.
Makita Shangri-La
It’s a big city in the Philippines, and a small neighborhood in Pleasant Grove, Utah. I’m definitely in the city. I’m here for business. It’s been a long time since I travelled internationally. And this time I have to be on call for work.
Previously I didn’t much care what time it was elsewhere. I just lived in China’s time zone, or Haiti’s or India’s. Even when I travel domestically, I always set my watch to local time.
I know that Manila’s time zone is 12 hours off Eastern Time. Twelve hours and a day. I think it’s forward. But, maybe not. I’ll figure it out during the week I’m here. I’ll be keeping North American hours. Sleep at dawn, wake at dusk.
In the mean time, I’ll just set my clock to Manila time and remember that it’s 12 hours off of Eastern.
Of course, that’s not taking into account daylight savings time changing this weekend. (Spring Forward, fall back. . .I think)
What do they call the person who sits in the last row? Same thing they call the guy who graduates last in Med school. He’s a doctor, I’m a passenger.
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.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com
(c) 2019 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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We’ve all stories,
I was talking to my buddy about getting new skis and the next time I logged into Facebook, guess what? SKI ADS!
It’s called “the algorithm.” I don’t know maybe it should be capitalized like The World Series, or The Prestige. But, it’s the computer code that companies like Facebook and Google use to create targeted ads for you.
How they work is a closely guarded secret. Well, we know how they work. They take information gathered from multiple sources and tied to you and use it to serve you very specific targeted ads. But, exactly how they do that is known to only the programmers and program managers.
It’s not all bad. In fact, the AI behind The Algorithm is designed to help you find stuff you need. And sometimes it’s actually enjoyable. A few weeks ago I clicked on an antique leather messenger bag. For weeks The Algorithm showed me pictures of Indiana Jones style clothing and accessories.
If you are not paying for the product, you are the product
We have to have ads, of course. We don’t pay for Facebook, or Google, or GMail, or any number of “free” services. The Algorithm is an attempt to not show pregnancy ads to middle aged men, and not show sailboat ads to someone living in the middle of the desert.
For the most part The Algorithm is a benevolant overseer. Like an overeager puppy it just wants to help you find stuff you want to buy. And often The Algorithm knows what you need almost before you do.
I recently noticed this in a real life situation. When I go to the airport I park in off-airport parking. It’s more secure and slightly cheaper. You self park and then take a shuttle to the airport.
I also tend to stop at Walmart on my way out of town and pick up snacks. I used to think I would spend the time waiting for the shuttle to transfer the snacks from the grocery bags to my carry on. The problem was that I never had time. The shuttle always found me too quickly.
And then I realized that I was a victim of the The Algorithm. The shuttle wasn’t just cruising the lot looking for passengers. The shuttle “found” me because it was looking for me. As soon as I entered the lot, the shuttle driver started following me. There was no other option but to for the shuttle to find me.
Sometimes The Algorithm does provide you things you want or need, like pictures of fedoras and bullwhips, or a ride to the airport.
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.
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Game seven of the World Series is today. In an unprecedented fashion, the visiting team has won the first six games of the seven game world series. It’s never happened before in the history of any seven game series in any sport. The Washington Nationals are hoping to make it seven in a row, as they attempt to beat the Houston Astros in Texas and claim their first World Series. The 2019 World Series will certainly go down in history. But, it’s unlikely that anyone except future version of baseball geeks will remember the teams.
Baseball is celebrating 150 years in 2019. While that’s an impressive milestone, MLB is probably hoping that people will forget another milestone this year. In fact, it’s safe to say the ’19 World Series is one of the darkest moments in baseball history.
Not the 2019 Series. The Series that happened 100 years ago. The 1919 World Series was between the Cincinnati Reds and the Chicago White Sox. However, the Chicago team was better known as the Black Sox. Eight men on the 1919 team were accused of intentionally losing World Series games. And they almost killed the sport of baseball a century ago.
The eight men who are forever banned from the sport, even though they are long dead are:
- 1B Arnold “Chick” Gandil
- 3B Buck Weaver
- IF Fred McMullin
- SS Charles “Swede” Risberg
- RHP Eddie Cicotte
- LPH Claude “Lefty” Williams
- CF Oscar “Happy” Felsch
- OF “Shoeless” Joe Jackson
Joe Gedeon of the St Louis ballclub was also banned because he learned of the fix and placed bets.
The story of the Black Sox has been told many times in books and movies. The story is that the owner of the White Sox, Charles Comiskey (Yeah, the guy they named the stadium after) wasn’t paying his players enough and was a pretty rotten owner. The players, let by Chick Gandil met up with some Chicago gamblers and arranged to throw the World Series, a series they were favoried to win. But, even if a team isn’t favored, if you know one team is going to lose, it doesn’t matter what the odds are. It’s a sure thing.
Like any conspiracy, there were crosses and doublecrosses. Ultimately the players each got $5000 except for Chick who pocketed $35,000 and Buck Weaver who took none of it. Oh, and they lost in eight games. (The Series was a best of 9 back in 1919.)
Everyone knew of the fix and since losing games on purpose was illegal then, as now, the players were arrested in 1921. Many of them, including Joe Jackson (more on him later) pled guilty. But, in classic Chicago politics style, the confessions were lost. In the trial, the players were aquitted. Comiskey was one of the biggest defenders of his players. Oh, he knew they were guilty as sin, but they were also great players and with this kind of leverage, Comiskey could cut their pay even further.
Baseball owners had a real problem on their hands at the start of the 1920s. They relied on fans to fund their sport and fans weren’t interested in paying good money (a World Series ticket in 1920 was $5.50) to watch a dishonest game.
The owners pursued a radical solution for a severe problem. They created the office of Baseball Commissioner. And for their first commissioner they hired Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis. Commissioner Landis wasted no time in banning the eight players from baseball. Even after they were aquitted, Landis refused to allow them back into baseball.
Regardless of the verdict of juries, no player who throws a ball game, no player who undertakes or promises to throw a ball game, no player who sits in confidenc with a bunch of crooked ballplayers and gamblers, where the ways and means of throwing a game are discussed and does not promptly tell his club about it, will ever play baseball again.
– Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis
Commissioner of Baseball
The eight, were never allowed in organized play again. They tried to set up exhibition games. Landis threatened to ban any player who played with them. They tried to hold an exhibtion game every week in Chicago. The city threatened to cancel the lease of any ballpark that hosted them. They were out.
Joe Jackson has become a cult figure over the years. He was the hero in the movie Field of Dreams. It’s been suggested that since he never attended any meetings with gamblers, he wasn’t really guilty. It’s been suggested that being illiterate, perhaps he didn’t really know what was going on. He claimed he played as hard as he could in the Series.
The man accepted $5,000 at a time when the best player in the league (Ty Cobb) was paid $20,000 for the entire year. That would be like one of today’s players accepting $10,000,000, (25% of Mike Trout’s $39,000,000.) You don’t take that kind of money without understanding what it was for.
Everyone agrees that Buck Weaver never took any money and never attempted to lose a game. But, he knew about it.
Pete Rose, who played in the 1970s has more hits than anyone else in Major League Baseball history, 4,256. (Interestingly, second place is the aformentioned Ty Cobb who had 4,189.) Rose, in 1989 was accused of betting on baseball. Using the precedent set by Landis 70 years earlier, Rose was permanently banned from baseball, including being ineligable for the Hall of Fame.
To this day, none of the Black Sox has ever been reinstated and all remain ineligable for the Hall of Fame.
So, while 2019 World Series will set new records, it’s likely that in 2119, baseball will celebrate 250 years of baseball, but will still not have lived down the disgrace of the 1919 Black Sox, the worst World Series in baseball history.
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.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2019 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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Well, one of my favorites. I mean, if it’s a question of my kid playing in a football game, or my daughter’s wedding, or birth of a child. But, barring any of those, this has to be one of my favorite spots.
I’m in Louisville, Kentucky. This is where the Kentucky Derby is run every May. It’s also the site of the Muhammad Ali Cultural Center, and his birth place and site of his grave. It’s also the headquarters of Kentucky Fried Chicken.
I’m not here for any of those sites.
This is the location of Hillerich & Bradsby. You’ve probably never heard of them. You may have seen their name if you ever held on older wooden Louisville Slugger baseball bat. Hillerich & Bradsby is the company that makes Louisville Slugger baseball bats. Their factory is in Louisville.
You might be surprised that the company that makes the famous bat isn’t named for the bat. In fact, Hillerich & Bradsby is an old company. It predates the baseball industry. It used to be a furniture maker. But, back in the 1884 a player named Pete Browning broken his bat. In those days, players made their own bats. (Probably directly from a tree.)
It happened that a guy named Bud Hillerich was skipping work at his family furniture store that day. Like people still today, he was playing hooky to go watch a baseball game. When Pete Browning of the local team broke his bat, Hillerich realized that a baseball bat wasn’t that much different than a bedpost, that he could make in his father’s furniture shop.
And Hillerich & Bradsby had made their first baseball bat. Soon other players were asking for bats to be made. Eventually, there was more money in baseball bats than in making beds and dressers.
The first professional contract was signed in 1905 and was between Hillerich & Bradsby and Honus Wagner. Honus, in addition to being a great player, also holds the record for the worlds most expensive baseball card.
The most famous player to sign a contract with Hillerich & Bradsby was the great Babe Ruth. Ruth signed a unique contract. Rather than a time limit, or even a contract that ended at his death, Ruth gave Hillerich & Bradsby the right to use his name and likeness to sell baseball bats into perpetuity.
The museum they have at the factory has plenty of Ruth memorabilia. Including one of the three bats he used during the 1927 season when he set the record for 60 homeruns. The bat is unique, because Ruth carved a notch into it every time he hit a homerun.
Modern players who use Louisville slugger get their signatures up on a wall. The Hall of Famers get their names on a black plague. Two Mariners, Ken Griffey Jr (2016) and Edgar Martinez (2019) are on the black plaques.
One of the unique features of the museum and factory is the “giant bat.” It guards the front entrance like a metal-painted-like-wood sword of Damocles. As always, I spent too much. But, it’s not a everyday I get to visit one of baseball’s shrines.
Oh, and why the name Louisville Slugger? That was the nickname for Pete Browning all the way back in 1884.
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.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2019 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
