The End of an Era - A Tribute to STP

What started so promisingly back in February 2010 has come to a premature end - the victim of an 81-mile commute and too many hours at work. Those of you who still occassionally check my blog, to which I have posted exactly twice (counting this post) since December 2010, might remember my excitement over going to work for The South Texas Project Nuclear Operating Company ("STP") about eighteen months ago. Alas, that chapter of my like ended earlier than I expected, on June 8, 2011.

Following my inglorious layoff from Transocean after a thirteen-year run I was out of work for almost nine months. Being without a job isn't really so bad - for awhile that is. Unemployment gives you lots of time to do all those things you've always wanted to do - clean out the garage, take a few vacations (subject to available funding), visit the kids, clean out the closets, volunteer, catch up on your Bible study, clean out the attic, etc. But once you've visited, volunteered and cleaned out everything in sight the concept of earning a living starts to creep back into your consciousness, especially when the severance runs out. I was blessed to have STP arrive on the scene at just the right time.
As depicted in its official mailing address, STP is located eight miles west of Wadsworth, Texas on FM 521. It's a nuclear electric power generating station, and a darn good one. The people at STP are about as good a bunch as you'd ever want to work with. They have their quirks - lots of them as a matter of fact - but they are good at what they do and generally have fun doing it. When I decided to throw in with STP I was concerned about the commute, but I figured I could handle it. I was wrong. Spending three hours every day in your car ends ups being a less than positive experience. Although, on the positive side, I did listened to about seventy books on tape (actually CD), which probably qualifies me as being a well-read (well-listened?) individual. I also managed to never run into any four-legged animals larger that skunks, possums and raccoons. Most of my STP collegues are veterans of one or more big game collisions - with either a deer or a hog, or both.
I learned a few things at STP that will be valuable as I continue my career. However, I also learned a few things that are actually fun to know. For instance, are you aware that there are vastly different definitions for pastries available from Shipley's? If you go into a Shipley's in the Houston area and order a kolache you will be served a small cocktail sausage wrapped in dough. If you order the same thing in Bay City (the metropolis near Wadsworth) you'll get a flat sweet pastry with some kind of fruit on top. If you want the equivalent of a small cocktail sausage wrapped in dough in Bay City you need to order a "pig" which is actually a man-size piece of sausage wrapped in something that more closely resembles a biscuit. The Bay City version is much better than its Houston cousin. During my tenure at STP the task of providing pigs for the HR group typically fell on me, primarily because a certain recruiting manager talked a good game, but was too cheap to ever actually buy any of them for his fellow HR associates. I won't mention any names, but he knows who he is.

I also learned more than I ever thought I would about sea glass. For those of you who don't know, Matagorda Beach - just a few short miles from Wadsworth - is a world class repository of sea glass. Sea glass comes in many forms - all of them glass - that range from shards of 200 year old wines bottles (which I believe are red) to two-week old Pepsi bottles, which wash up onto the beach. Those with a romantic imagination see these bits of broken glass as the survivors of ship wrecks. Others, like me, more correctly guess that they come from the trash thrown overboard by the ship's garbage officer. Those with a stylish and artistic bent comb the beach for sea glass, which can be sold to local artisans for incorporating into jewelry and other valuable fashion items. Some sea glass fetches a considerable price - often up to thousands of dollars. The shards from the Pepsi bottles are at the lower end of the pricing scale.

I learned that people in the Bay City area get really excited about a new Mexican food restaurant, even if it's not all that good. They may have us beat on the pig front at Shipley's, but tragically, they aren't in our league when it comes to Mexican food. What they do have that we don't have is the K-2 Steakhouse, which has the largest selection of comfort food ever assembled. My favorite attraction is the tub of butter at the salad bar, which is big enough to butter most of the New England states. If you're ever on a diet and you want to do some closet eating away from your friends I suggest a drive down to the K-2 to destroy your will power in style.

I want to close this post by sending out a shout-out to all of my homies at STP . . . Vickie, Jennifer, Elsa, Lisa (the nurse), Lisa (the sea glass queen), Shawn, Kevin, L.T., Larry (no pigs), Connie, Mike, Tina, Roxanne, Clarence, Rhonda, Sharon, Crystal, Janna, Shannon, and Renee. I enjoyed working with each of you and I wish you all the very best in the coming years. I was blessed to have had the opportunity to work with you.

NEWS FLASH: Following my departure from STP, Vicki and I and 60 of our closest friends from the First Colony Church of Christ took an eight-day trip to Israel. See if you can find me in the picture abovem next to the Jordan River near where the Israelites probably crossed into the Promised Land. (HINT: I'm the one in the hat.) In the old days - when I was unemployed and blogging was the highlight of my days - I would have posted at least four lengthy blogs with pictures and details of the trip. However, for now let me just say that in my opinion, all Christians should make a trip to the Holy Land at least once in their lives. The perspective it provides on the life and times of Jesus is something you'll never forget.

NEWS FLASH #2: I will be starting a new job at Aramco Services Company in Houston on Thursday. The commute is 18 miles, which should take about 30 minutes, unless it rains, or there's a stalled car, or an accident, or a random police car parked near the freeway, or between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Then, who knows how long it will take?

Happy Birthday Mr. Hood!

Today is December 31st - New Year's Eve. A day recognized by millions as a time to ponder the old year that has passed and new one that is fast approaching. This day, however, has additional significance in the Freede Hood - it's my older brother Curt's birthday.


I don't usually do tribute blog postings, so I'll keep this one pretty low key and try not to get too sentimental. Curt - Curtis when my Mom was mad at him, and Curtis Mitchell when she was really mad - was born on New Year's Eve 1951, the first of four sons to Heber and Eileen Freede. He attended kindergarden at Horace Mann Elementary in Warren, Ohio, and after graduation went on to scholastic and athletic success at Leavitt Elementary, Leavittsburg Junior High, Leavittsburg High School, and finally the University of Toledo.


Growing up he and I were inseparable. We shared a room for seventeen years until he went away to college in 1971 to become a pharmacist. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve Curt and I ganging up on our two younger brothers to keep them in line, teach them a lesson, or generally to just torture them for no real reason. I also remember the day we beat up Barry and Gary Foor, the twins who lived down the street (they deserved it). While in high school Curt was a star football player, setting every school and many county rushing records. If you're ever in Leavittsburg stop any person on the street and ask about how he single-handedly won the 1969 game against our arch-rival Champion High.


Today is an unusual day because it's the first day since December 3rd that we're not the same age. You see, when I say Curt and I are close, I mean close in a calendar sense of close. Owing to the fact that we were both born in December in adjacent years - he on the 31st and I on the 3rd - we are the "same age" every year for 28 days. I'm not sure at what point the realization dawned on me that my existence was not one that was planned. After all, how many people do you know who have a brother who is only eleven months older than they are?


Regardless of any additional fascinating circumstances, the main event today is Curt's birthday.


Happy birthday, Mr. Hood!




(Above: Curt is on the far left in the top picture - in the hat - and on the right in the botton picture - also in the hat.)

The Reports of the Death of Our Blog Were Greatly Exaggerated

Hello everyone. I'm returning to our blog after an absence of four months. With the Christmas season upon us and the end of the year fast approaching I thought I'd take a few minutes and do some catching up on what's been going on with us in the Freede Hood.

Our biggest news - for those of you who may not yet have heard - is that Bethany and Cody will be turning Vicki and I into grandparents, effective on April 30, 2011. We found out last weekend that the little human is a boy, as revealed during the "gender reveal" party that was held at our house last Saturday.

For those of you not familiar with exactly what a "gender reveal" party is, it works like this: Expectant parents go to doctor for an ultra-sound, which reveals the gender of the infant. However, gender is not revealed to expectant parents, but only to solitary designated third party, who is this case was Cody's mom, Cheryl, who due to work commitments knew she would be unable to attend the gender reveal party. Cheryl contacts bakery in Sugar Land and orders a cake that will be either pink or blue (in this case blue), with chocolate icing - which will conceal the color of the cake. At the party everyone wears either a pink or blue shirt to indicate their guess of the baby's gender. At the appointed time the expectant parents cut the cake and a naked baby jumps out. Not really. Actually the color of the cake reveals the baby's gender! It sounds pretty dorky, but it was actually a lot of fun, and quite suspenseful. It also proves that in 21st century Amercia people will now have a party for just about anything.

Because both Kayla and Bethany are designated for assignment to their in-laws for Christmas this year we held our Christmas festivities this weekend. Vicki arranged everything so perfectly that we for the most part thought that Christmas had officially been moved up a week. The only thing missing was the Christmas Eve candle-lighting ceremony at church. We decided against having our own such ceremony, guessing that it would lose its impact with only six candles. Vicki actually mentioned on the way to church this morning that she had some plans for the after-Christmas sales this week. Silly her. I'm thinking about taking down the outside Christmas lights tomorrow.

For Christmas this year I got Vicki two rocking chairs from Cracker Barrel. That's right, two of those white rockers that people sit in on the porch while they wait to be seated. She's wanted these rockers for several years, but I have always resisted, mostly because I don't really want anyone to know that I've actually been to Cracker Barrel, given that I have not yet attained the age of 85. As we sat on the back porch on Christmas morning, rocking away in our new chairs and talking about the new grandson, I suddenly felt old enough to be dirt. Vicki is debating over what "Grandma name" to choose for herself. I'm pretty much sold on "Grandpa" for myself. It will fit perfectly with the rocker.

Speaking of Christmas lights, we were devastated last week to learn that we did not place in the annual Greatwood home decorating contest. This blow was particularly severe because we had decided that this was the year we would go all out. In spite of my best efforts - which I have to admit may not quite qualify as "all out" - and some very customized work on my part, our finished product (see above) was neither appreciated or rewarded by the judges. Vicki has vowed revenge but I'm taking it a little more philosophically, trying to maintain some perspective on the true importance of a sign in the yard that says "Honorable Mention - Woodhaven". My plan for next year is to put some of those little electric candles in the windows and be done with it.

Boston - The Final Story

After a short lay off I'm back to finish off our travelogue of Boston and the surrounding countryside. Rather than stick with my original plan of a day-by-day account of our adventures in Massachusetts I think I'll just hit the remaining high points, in no particular chronological order. WARNNG: This is a long post. You might want to break it up over a week or so.

On the 4th of July we took the Number One bus north on Massachusetts Avenue for the twenty minute trip to Cambridge and the fable Harvard University. If you recall, about a month ago when I started blogging about our Boston trip I mentioned that the "unofficial" tour of the Freedom Trail was not the best way to go. That was true, but the "unofficial" tour of Harvard - run by the same bunch - is definitely the was to see Harvard. Due to "licensing" issues with the university - which I think involved Harvard getting a cut of the fees - this tour is technically free. That right - free! However, the "suggested" gratuity at the end of the tour is $10 per person or $20 per family. Being that there were two of us we had the option of paying $10 twice or $20 once. If you're ever in the neighborhood make it a point to stop by the Harvard campus and hang out with the "unofficial" tour kids. They were funny and informative. However, I did notice that one of them - although a Harvard student - did not know the correct usage of the word "set" vs. "sit".

After Harvard we took the Red Line subway out of Cambridge and headed for Fenway Park to watch the Red Sox do battle with the last-place Baltimore Orioles. Of course the Orioles killed the Bosox, but the trip to Fenway was fantastic! Walking from the subway stop to the Park was an experience that resembled a carnival. Once inside the sight of the Green Monster looming in left field gave me chills (well, considering it was almost 100 degrees maybe not actual chills). We were particularly impressed with the Boston fans, who sang God Bless America in the 7th inning at the top of their lungs. In addition, their enthusiastic rendition of Sweet Caroline was something to behold, as was the fact that nobody left early even though the Sox were losing 6-0 in the 9th inning. They eventually lost 6-1.

After the baseball game we went back to the North End for some more Italian food before heading down to the Esplanade along the Charles River for the gigantic Boston fireworks display. Or so we thought. Once we got into the throng of at least 500,000 people crammed into every square inch of space along the river we decided that between searching vainly for a spot to watch, probably not being able so see anything anyway, and the prospect of spending several hours escaping through the overwhelming sea of surging humanity after the show that we'd pass on the fireworks this time around. As we struggled through the throngs on our way back to the subway we were amazed by the thousands of people who were on their way down to the Esplanade, knowing that there was not a single blade of exposed grass remaining to be claimed.

On Tuesday we headed out of town to visit Salem, home of the famous witch trials in the 17th century. The witch thing turned out to be a bust - there was a cheesy witch museum that we skipped. But we did hit the Salem Customs House where Nathanial Hawthorne was employed as a customs officer when he came up with the idea for The Scarlet Letter. We also checked out some of the other historical buildings, the docks, and the large restored sailing ship that was docked near the Customs House. The problem that we eventually succumbed to was the heat, which actually hit 99 degrees. Our solution was to head north to the seaside town of Gloucester, where we managed to attached ourselves to a whale watching tour that was leaving just as we arrived. As whale watching tours go, this was a top ten experience. We saw at least 30 whales, some of them 70 feet long. Vicki got lots of pictures, all of which looking strangely the same - vast expanse of blue water with a black dot near the center.

On Wednesday we went north to Plymouth, home of the famous Plymouth Rock, which the truth be told could just as aptly be called Plymouth Stone. As famous rock go, it's not exactly the Rock of Gibraltar. It more like something that would fit inside one of those plastic kiddy swimming pools. Near the rock is a rebuilt replica of the Mayflower, which is only 102 feet long. Standing on it you get a sense for just how bad the Pilgrims wanted to leave their former digs for the New World. Anyone who would get on such a small boat to sail across the Atlantic Ocean must have had nothing to lose, except breakfast, lunch and dinner when they got seasick.

After the rock and the boat we headed for Plimoth Plantation (yes, its spelled differently). The Plantation is a recreation of the original town site that the the Pilgrims built on land that they stole from the locals when they arrived. It was a fascinating place, even though air-conditioning was not available. After Plymouth/Plimoth we drove up the coast for some sight-seeing, stopping at the town of Rockport for one last taste of lobster. Rockport is a quaint little town with the ruins of an old colonial fort in its harbor and a guy playing the violin for tips.

Well, that's about it. On Wednesday we headed home. All in all it was a great trip. We would highly recommend Boston as a vacation destination. Pictures below . . .

One last note that you need to know. In Massachusetts there is no sales tax on clothes. It was weird buying a $15 shirt and actually paying $15 for it.

Vicki and I in Rockport at sunset.

The citizens of Plimoth Plantation.

Plymouth Rock (note the "1620")

The tale of a whale.



Rockport Harbor (below)

Vicki and one of the witches in Salem.

Aboard the whale watching boat.



Fenway.

Vicki at Harvard (below)

Boston - Day Two

Sorry to keep everyone on the edge of their seats waiting for the details of the second day of our Boston trip. I hope my delay didn't cause anyone any permanent angst. I'm really not sure exactly what I've been doing that seems to have kept me so busy. I have had a few long days at work lately. Yeah, that's it. Work.



Regardless of my reasons (excuses), I'm here now and ready for a vivid description of Boston - Day Two! If I throw in some stuff that I already talked about in Day One please forgive me. We kicked off Day Two (Saturday) with a tour of the Freedom Trail. For those of you who are not up on Boston geography/history/tourism, the Freedom Trail is a 2.5 mile tour through the historic sections of Boston - which is pretty much all of Boston. To stay on the trail you simply follow the red line painted on the sidewalk. The brochure says 2.5 miles. It seemed farther for some reason; maybe because Boston was in the midst of one of its worst heat waves ever. It reminded me a lot of Houston's weather, and I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't take a 2.5 mile walk in the middle of the day in Houston, but when in Boston . . . Let me give you some guidance on taking on the Freedom Trail. There are three options of which I'm aware - 1) A trolley tour where you ride around in an open trolley and someone describes everything for you. It's an on-and-off trolley, so you can get off and on any time and anywhere you want. We decided that this was for wimps, 2) The "official" Freedom Trail Tour, during which you follow a guy dressed like Ben Franklin around to the various historical sites. This is the most popular tour. We opted to skip this because the guide was not only dressed like Ben Franklin, he was also just about as old and didn't seem like he'd be a fun guy, 3) The "unofficial" Freedom Trail Tour, which is conducted by two twenty-something kids dressed like two twenty-something kids. What distinguishes them is that one of them carries an American flag. This tour is much more hip than the others. It also - in spite of what the brochure says - skips about 50% of the historic sights, which meant that we had to go back and look them up ourselves, which wasn't too difficult because to the red line. We decided that if we had it to do all over again we do it all over with Ben.



Regardless of which tour option is selected, the history is the same. I won't give you a detailed historical account of each attraction, but instead will simply refer to the pictures below, each of
which includes a brief, snappy narrative.



Some Boston street entertainers. These guys called themselves the Breeze Team and they were pretty entertaining. In addition to their heavy funk break-dancing and acrobatics they also delivered two lines I'll always remember fondly: "We're gonna pass the bucket for our recommended $5 per person tip. If you run we will chase you" and "Remember folks, the more money you give us, the more money we'll have."







The inside of the Old South Meeting House. It was from this very place that the colonists - fed up with rising taxes and an overbearing government (hmmm?) - launched the original Boston Tea Party. After whipping themselves into an anti-British frenzy they rushed out and dumped a few million dollars worth of tea into Boston harbor.





Me surrounded by some very old dead guys. We learned that several years ago, in order to allow space for lawn mowers, the keepers of the old Boston grave yards rearranged the headstones into more manageable rows, meaning that the current placement of the stones to not correspond to the location of the deceased.






The TD Boston Garden, home of the Boston Celtics, multiple winners of the NBA championship. For the record, this is without a doubt one of the ugliest buildings I have ever seen.

Vicki's very artsy photo that captures not just the Old North Church, but also the statue of Paul Revere! One if by land, and two if by sea . . . It was 17 miles by land or one mile by sea. Where the lanterns really necessary?








An upscale neighborhood street scene in Boston. Most of these building are at least 150 years old.













Me standing in front of Paul Revere's house. A few historical tidbits about old Paul -

1) This house was already 90 years old when he and his family moved in.
2) Paul served in the Continental army, but was dishonorably discharged for reasons of insubordination and cowardice. After the war he demanded a court-martial which eventually cleared his name, thereby allowing him to become a tourist attraction.




Another street "performer." I'll bet she was hot under her chrome exterior.

















In this cemetery are buried Paul Revere, and Ben Franklin's parents. Nobody ever really said where Ben himself is buried.













Vicki outside a festive flower stand near Faniell Hall.



















Musket fire near the Bunker Hill memorial, which is by the way not actually on the top of Bunker Hill, which by the way was not really the hill upon which the Battle of Bunker Hill was conducted. Look it up.











The flag boy of the unofficial Boston Freedom Trail tour. If you look closely you can see the Ben Franklin guy in the background. I think Ben is giving flag boy the evil eye.








After finishing off the Trail at the old navy yard (home of Old Ironsides - not pictured) we elected to take the harbor ferry back to the North End. I highly suggest this as a nice way to end your day on the Trail, especially if the temperature is 96 degrees. It's about a ten minute ride and the breeze feels great. And if that's not enough, the price of the ticket ($1.70) is covered by your 7-day "T" pass. They also have ice-cold fountain diet-Coke, which was the highlight of the trip for Vicki.

After disembarking from the ferry we found ourselves surrounded by the festivities of the annual Harbor Days throng. We also found ourselves face-to-face with Legal Seafood, which according to all the tourist guides is THE place to go for lobster. I didn't get the low down on how it got the name "Legal". Sorry. Regardless of the mysterious name, the lobster was great, and not all that expensive (as lobster goes, that is). We had a waiter who was at least 6'9" tall and who was quite chatty. After dinner I bought myself a Boston Red Sox hat to wear to the game on Sunday. I'll talk about that "tomorrow", maybe.


After our lobster and hat-buying we headed back to our digs on the South End. It was a quick ride on the Red Line, the the Green Line, to the Silver Line bus. Not confusing at all! We highly recommend the Boston subway when the temperature is in the 90's! It made us feel right at home!

Tomorrow: Harvard, Fenway Park and Fireworks Madness!

The Great Massachusetts Muffin Tour

Greetings friends! After a lengthy absence I'm back to tell you all about the vacation trip Vicki and I took to Boston. We left last Friday morning and just got back to Sugar Land this afternoon. Other than the fact that during our visit Boston experienced one of its worst heat waves in recent memory (the temperature hit 99 degrees), we had an absolutely fantastic time. Who knew that Boston was such a fun place?

For starters, we stayed at the Aisling Bed & Breakfast, which is a 135 year-old row house on Boston's South End. The South End is definitely not the most upscale neighborhood in Boston, but it gave us a flavor for the real Boston, which is one of the most diverse places we've ever been. Our B&B was very comfortable, the gourmet breakfasts were all great (more on this later) and we were only a block from the Silver Line of the bus/subway system (the "T"). For a $15 weekly pass we traveled all over the city with ease (once we figured out how to read the transit maps). If you ever go to Boston, DO NOT bother to rent a car to get around in the city. The streets are for the most part narrow, they aren't laid out in a logical grid, and the traffic there make Houston look like a Sunday drive in the country. The T works great, it's cheap, and with the exception of a few weirdos who made Vicki a little nervous, it seemed pretty safe.

Rather than bore you with a very long post detailing all of our exciting adventures I'll instead break our trip into several shorter posts, which will enable me to bore you on a continuing basis over the next four or five days. Let's start with last Friday . . .

Boston Common - Boston Common is the oldest public park in America, dating back to the early 1600's. It's sort of the Central Park of Boston, but a little smaller and lot older. During its history it has served as a common pasture for the town's sheep and cattle, as the site for public hangings, as the place where occupying British troops camped and trained, as a burying ground, as a place for the town's folk to protest against the British government, and now, where the city-dwellers go for some outdoor rest and recreation. As Vicki and I strolled through the Common we realized that there were very few people who looked like us. We heard multiple languages spoken by people who looked like they came from a multitude of countries. This included the locals and the tourists. We stopped for awhile at the Frog Pond, which is an acre-sized concrete pond that's about a foot deep, in which the local kids frolic under a couple of water-spewing fountains as their parents relax in the shade. In the winter months the Frog Pond becomes a giant ice-skating rink.

Adjacent to the Common is the Botanical Garden, which is a much more serene and much quieter place. Apparently the masses don't enjoy tranquility as much as chaos because there were far fewer people here than in the extremely congested Common. In addition to the multiple flowers that populate the place, there are also the Swan Boats that operate on one of the small lakes. These are boats that seat about twenty tourists (I can believe that too many locals do this) and are powered by young men who sit in the back and pedal. The distinguishing characteristic of the Swan Boats is the large fiberglass swan that is perched at the back of each boat. By large I mean about eight feet tall. It actually looks kind of weird.

There are also several statues and monuments throughout the garden, memorializing significant people and events. My personal favorite is the Ether Monument, which as the name suggests is a monument to ether. It seems that the first successful application of ether as an anesthetic was at nearby Boston General Hospital. In the center of the garden is a large statue of George Washington astride his horse. As we were admiring this statue I overheard a conversation next to us in which a woman told her friends that you can always tell if a person died in battle, in which case they are always depicted mounted on a horse. I guess George Washington was killed in battle after he served his time as President of the United States.

After our ramblings in the Common and the Gardens we found our way up to the North End, which is home to the Old North Church and Paul Revere's House. These are both worthwhile attractions in their own right, but they pale is comparison to the North End's real attraction - about a hundred Italian restaurants packed into the area of a few city blocks. If you want some really good Italian food, go to the North End. We actually went twice while we were in town. As an added ambiance bonus I noticed that in front of many of the restaurants there were small tables at which sat old Italian guys who looked like they just stepped off the set of The Godfather. They all looked just about the same - slightly overweight, white shirt, slicked back hair, smoking a cigarette, drinking something alcoholic, and typically gesturing to each other while they spoke. They reminded me of my Mom's side of the family.

After our North End dinner we headed back to the South End. This being our first day on the T it took us a little while to figure out the difference between the Orange, Red, Blue, Green and Silver lines and which direction to take on each (a key consideration), but we managed to make it home without too much trouble. All day long we had commented to each other how nice the weather was - not too hot and not really humid at all! Little did we know the steaming evil that lurked in the weather forecast.

Tomorrow: The Freedom Trail, Lobsters, and soooo much more!

Fathers' Day

After a long absence caused by not having anything to write about I'm back, trying to think of something to write about. Father's Day seems like a logical topic, given that it is approaching this Sunday. Unlike Mother's Day, which has been recognized as a holiday in the U.S. since 1914, Father's Day didn't become official until 1972! I think the delay was primarily due to the influence of TV sitcoms, which for decades have generally depicted fathers as insensitive, incompetent, self-centered, clueless bumblers. Ever since Father Knows Best, Andy Griffith, and Leave It To Beaver vanished from the airwaves several decades ago, fathers have been represented almost exclusively by the likes of Homer Simpson, Al Bundy and Ray Barone. We get no respect, but it doesn't really bother us, because we know that we're important in our own way, and for what we bring to the parenting game.

Speaking from my personal experiences, I have to tell you that I am probably the luckiest father in the world. My two daughters (Bethany and Kayla for those of you who know them) are about as fantastic as any two daughters could be. I look back over our 25+ years together and realize that without them my life would have been nowhere near as fun and fulfilling as it has been. From pixie-league softball - where the Indians won the world championship - through two of the most beautiful and over-budget weddings ever performed, we have had a lot of really great times together. We've taken family trips to a lot of wonderful places - including Costa Rica (twice), Canada, Uganda, London, New York City, Colorado (countless times), California, Florida - and done a lot of really fun stuff - deep sea fishing, white water rafting, Broadway theater, U.S. Open golf, Disney World, Disney Land, climbing the highest mountain in Colorado, skiing, swimming with the sting rays in the Cayman Islands, and lots of other things I can't even remember. Kayla and Bethany both graduated from ACU in four years (almost unheard of these days) and now both have their master's degrees. They've both managed to find great Christian husbands (our secret goal when we sent them to ACU) and they've become great Christian wives. When I hear of all the pain and anguish so many of my friends have gone through with their kids I almost feel guilty. With the exception of a few minor disappointments, Vicki and I have been blessed beyond belief with two truly fine daughters. We wouldn't trade them for anything or anybody.