(From the Janesville Messenger, 11-30-08)
Physically, T.J. is a boy of 13.
Mentally, T.J. is a man.
T.J. has grown up quickly, placed in a role that each of us hope we never have to fill.
T.J. is his father’s caregiver.
Perhaps that label is overstating the severity of the situation. T.J.’s father, Thomas, is not incapacitated. Thomas can drive and get around, but he’s lost a lot of weight, he can’t work, and his body is riddled with disease. And worst of all, his doctors have told him he will not get better.
And that has placed T.J. in a position of doing a lot of things that a boy normally wouldn’t have to do.
But to T.J., they are second nature. One thing that stands out in the mind of his father is one day when T.J. was eight, when Thomas was struggling to bend down and tie his work boots. Without a word, T.J. came over and did it for him. After that, T.J. made sure he was up before 5 a.m. every day to take care of that simple task for his dad.
“He’s been like a war hero,” Thomas says. “Or an angel. It’s like he can read my mind.”
Thomas can pinpoint when things started to go awry with his body. In 2003, a piece of heavy equipment fell on his abdomen. The accident led to a damaged and infected pancreas along with kidney problems. When he was finally well enough to go back to work, he discovered a strange change to his body. The upper part of his body would no longer perspire, even when doing hard physical work in 90-degree weather.
Other odd physical ailments followed. One day behind the wheel of a work truck, Thomas drove over a bump and the jolt knocked out his vision. His passenger had to take the wheel and guide the truck to the shoulder. Thomas’ sight eventually returned.
Thomas wears a thick, bushy beard these days, an appearance he doesn’t like and apologizes for. But that and the thick layers of clothes he wears are a necessity, as he is always cold, even in mid-summer.
A parade of doctors examined Thomas and could not determine what was wrong with him. He was told it could be anything from multiple sclerosis to Lou Gehrig’s Disease.
Through it all, T.J. has been there by his side. “He always has a positive attitude,” according to Thomas. “We’re a team. There is no ‘I,’ just ‘we’ or ‘us.’
“He’ll say to me, ‘Dad, there’s nothing you can’t tell me.’ But I tell him, ‘You’re only 13 years old!”
Thomas hates that it has to be this way. “I feel like I’ve taken his childhood away from him,” he says, “because of everything that’s happened.”
But T.J. has never complained. His only question is why it had to happen to Thomas. And that’s a question Thomas doesn’t know how to answer.
As Thomas’ lack of energy increased, his ability to work decreased, finally ceasing altogether in 2006. He has been able to live off his life savings, the result of a successful career.
Since then, his primary responsibility has been to be a father. And he isn’t done yet.
“I want to teach (T.J.) everything I know,” Thomas says. That includes how to frame houses, build furniture, finish drywall, and pour driveways, as well as every detail worth knowing about fishing.
Thomas has a daughter, too, but she doesn’t live with him. He worries that his close bond with his son might make her think he doesn’t love her just as much. But one of his stated goals is to still be able to someday “walk her down the aisle.”
Thomas now knows the cause of his problems. Tests showed that his body was loaded with chemicals, including arsenic from treated lumber, apparently from working in construction. This appears to be the cause of the cancer that now inhabits his body. He has been told that there is nothing more that can be done for him.
“You never know what your life holds for you,” Thomas says. But he isn’t looking for sympathy. Thomas simply wants his son to know that he appreciates the devotion, strength, love and affection that T.J. has shown him. And to let others know that his modest, unassuming son is truly an adult in a child’s body, in many ways more mature at 13 than some of us are decades later.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Change We Could All Believe In
(From the Janesville Messenger, 11-16-08)
My regular readers tell me that they least like the columns in which I comment on politics. I have heard that statement from enough people that I have purposely avoided that topic during the course of this year’s elections. If you are one of those readers, my apologies for this column.
After a campaign year that got even more nasty and divisive than I thought possible, I was pleasantly surprised on Election Night to hear statements from John McCain and Barack Obama that gave me hope for the future.
In his extremely gracious concession speech, McCain lauded Obama and urged his supporters “to join me in not just congratulating him, but offering our next president our good will and earnest effort to find ways to come together to find the necessary compromises to bridge our differences and help restore our prosperity, defend our security in a dangerous world, and leave our children and grandchildren a stronger, better country than we inherited.”
“Whatever our differences,” McCain said, “we are fellow Americans. And please believe me when I say no association has ever meant more to me than that.”
Obama, in return, also extended an olive branch and echoed the same theme of working together.
“Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long,” Obama said. “And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your president, too.”
It would be easy to dismiss such talk as the usual public relations statements that are supposed to be recited after an election. Call me naïve, but in the case of both Obama and McCain, I believe they meant them.
What surprised me most about McCain’s concession speech was how early in the evening it arrived. I expected to go to bed not knowing the results of the election. I couldn’t help thinking, watching McCain speak, that the guy seemed relieved. Not just relieved that the election was over, but relieved that he wasn’t the one inheriting what a friend described as a convulsing economy, a fractured political landscape, two nagging wars, and a financial crisis that only ten people really understand.
That doesn’t mean that I think he wanted to lose. But I think he saw that it was not the end of the world to return to the Senate and be the solution-seeking politician he used to be before the forces of the GOP coerced him to change.
McCain is an honorable man. It surely horrified him that several of his appearances, including his concession speech, were marred by angry constituents that even booed him when he dared utter something nice about Sen. Obama. His rebukes of those misguided supporters and defense of Obama were incredibly admirable. How must one feel to stand at a podium and think, these are my people?
Unfortunately, “party first” thinking is not limited to hardcore people at political rallies. Now that their legislative branch domination of the GOP is complete, both on the national and state level, I envision Democratic legislators drunk with power, ready to push their agenda forward like a runaway bulldozer. That would be the last thing we need right now.
I sincerely hope that President Obama and Governor Doyle do not allow that to happen. Based on my past experience working with state legislators, I must admit I have more confidence at this point in the President-elect.
However, as I write this, Rep. Mike Sheridan from Janesville is considered the front-runner to be elected speaker of the state assembly. He would be a good choice; Sheridan knows the value of compromise. He reached out to management at General Motors and his efforts certainly resulted in the local plant remaining open a good five years more than it might have. Elevated to a leadership position, he would now be free of party pressure to set the example and work toward advancing the people’s business.
The one thing missing from our state and national legislators in the past few decades has been the spirit of compromise in the name of the big picture. Anything less than a complete victory is seen by hard-core party members as weakness. Had our founding fathers taken such an approach at their Constitutional Convention, this great nation would have never been formed.
Obama’s message was “Change.” McCain’s was “Country First.” I do not see those ideas as mutually exclusive of one another. At this time of crisis, we have to quit focusing on whether we are Republicans or Democrats, liberals or conservatives, and just focus on being Americans.
That, my friends, would be a change we could all believe in.
My regular readers tell me that they least like the columns in which I comment on politics. I have heard that statement from enough people that I have purposely avoided that topic during the course of this year’s elections. If you are one of those readers, my apologies for this column.
After a campaign year that got even more nasty and divisive than I thought possible, I was pleasantly surprised on Election Night to hear statements from John McCain and Barack Obama that gave me hope for the future.
In his extremely gracious concession speech, McCain lauded Obama and urged his supporters “to join me in not just congratulating him, but offering our next president our good will and earnest effort to find ways to come together to find the necessary compromises to bridge our differences and help restore our prosperity, defend our security in a dangerous world, and leave our children and grandchildren a stronger, better country than we inherited.”
“Whatever our differences,” McCain said, “we are fellow Americans. And please believe me when I say no association has ever meant more to me than that.”
Obama, in return, also extended an olive branch and echoed the same theme of working together.
“Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long,” Obama said. “And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your president, too.”
It would be easy to dismiss such talk as the usual public relations statements that are supposed to be recited after an election. Call me naïve, but in the case of both Obama and McCain, I believe they meant them.
What surprised me most about McCain’s concession speech was how early in the evening it arrived. I expected to go to bed not knowing the results of the election. I couldn’t help thinking, watching McCain speak, that the guy seemed relieved. Not just relieved that the election was over, but relieved that he wasn’t the one inheriting what a friend described as a convulsing economy, a fractured political landscape, two nagging wars, and a financial crisis that only ten people really understand.
That doesn’t mean that I think he wanted to lose. But I think he saw that it was not the end of the world to return to the Senate and be the solution-seeking politician he used to be before the forces of the GOP coerced him to change.
McCain is an honorable man. It surely horrified him that several of his appearances, including his concession speech, were marred by angry constituents that even booed him when he dared utter something nice about Sen. Obama. His rebukes of those misguided supporters and defense of Obama were incredibly admirable. How must one feel to stand at a podium and think, these are my people?
Unfortunately, “party first” thinking is not limited to hardcore people at political rallies. Now that their legislative branch domination of the GOP is complete, both on the national and state level, I envision Democratic legislators drunk with power, ready to push their agenda forward like a runaway bulldozer. That would be the last thing we need right now.
I sincerely hope that President Obama and Governor Doyle do not allow that to happen. Based on my past experience working with state legislators, I must admit I have more confidence at this point in the President-elect.
However, as I write this, Rep. Mike Sheridan from Janesville is considered the front-runner to be elected speaker of the state assembly. He would be a good choice; Sheridan knows the value of compromise. He reached out to management at General Motors and his efforts certainly resulted in the local plant remaining open a good five years more than it might have. Elevated to a leadership position, he would now be free of party pressure to set the example and work toward advancing the people’s business.
The one thing missing from our state and national legislators in the past few decades has been the spirit of compromise in the name of the big picture. Anything less than a complete victory is seen by hard-core party members as weakness. Had our founding fathers taken such an approach at their Constitutional Convention, this great nation would have never been formed.
Obama’s message was “Change.” McCain’s was “Country First.” I do not see those ideas as mutually exclusive of one another. At this time of crisis, we have to quit focusing on whether we are Republicans or Democrats, liberals or conservatives, and just focus on being Americans.
That, my friends, would be a change we could all believe in.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
A Hairy Situation
(From the Janesville Messenger, 11-2-08)
The photo that runs next to this column doesn’t look like me.
In fact, except for a month or so during the summer, it hasn’t looked like me for a while. The clean-shaven appearance depicted here has been replaced with facial hair, in the form of a horseshoe moustache.
You are probably wondering what a horseshoe moustache is. Basically, it’s a moustache that extends from the corners of the lips down to the chin. It is so-named because it resembles an upside-down horseshoe. Most people mistakenly call it a Fu Manchu. I have also had people refer to it as a handlebar. I didn’t know which was correct, so I had to look it up to find out.
To prevent you from potential future embarrassment – after all, what could be a bigger social faux pas than wrongly identifying a moustache - both a Fu Manchu and a handlebar are moustaches where the ends are grown out long; the ends of the Fu droop down and the ends of the handlebar point up, like Rollie Fingers with his waxed tips.
Though it is not a common sight on me, facial hair hasn’t been a rarity, either. My driver’s license has a 2003 photo in which I look like a goateed criminal from a Quentin Tarantino film. At one time or another, I’ve had just about every facial hair combo imaginable, including a collegiate attempt at a Civil War general look with the moustache and sideburns connected.
What is rare – these days anyway - is when I grow it for my personal satisfaction. Generally, it means I have a part in a local theater production. Earlier this year, to play the role of George Bernard Shaw in the Janesville Performing Arts Center’s production of “The Frogs,” I had to sport a full beard. When my current shrubbery first appeared, several people assumed I was doing another play.
Truth be told, there really isn’t a reason. I came back from a summer backpacking trip in New Mexico with two weeks of growth and just decided to see how it looked if I shaved it this way.
You don’t see this style of moustache much these days, though my favorite baseball player, Robin Yount, still sports one. So did Joe Namath when he was the toast of New York, and John Lennon during the “Sgt. Pepper” era. Even though it’s not unusual, it’s still a bit on the edge.
Reactions to my new look have been pretty comical. Many people didn’t say a word when they first saw it – which I generally interpret as disapproval. Others have accused me of trying to look like a biker, or of being inspired by the cowboys I saw in New Mexico. A couple of my co-workers think it makes me look Mexican, and have nicknamed me “Carlos.”
The general consensus of my teenagers’ friends is “thumbs up.” However, I don’t score well among the demographic that consists of adult females with the last name of Lyke.
Not long after I returned from New Mexico, I did a presentation at my mother’s church. When my mother saw me walk in, she had this horrified look on her face. She immediately put her fingers in front of her face to draw a moustache. I knew exactly what she was telling me.
Of course, the superdelegate in this opinion poll is my wife. If she could hold me down and shave it off herself, she probably would. In fact, I’m surprised she hasn’t already tried it while I’m asleep. Maybe I shouldn’t be giving her ideas.
Now that the horseshoe has passed the two-month mark, she’s realized that this look – which she has dubbed “a hick from the ‘60s” - isn’t necessarily a passing fancy. We’ve had to come to an understanding that she’ll just have to accept my moustache, and I’ll just have to accept the fact that she won’t grow her hair to her waist. Not that I didn’t try striking that bargain, mind you.
If my new look survives into 2009 – and trust me, there is great pressure for it not to - it will probably be time to replace the photo that adorns this column. Until then, I recommend drawing on the moustache with a black Sharpie marker. If you do that, however...please don’t add horns.
The photo that runs next to this column doesn’t look like me.
In fact, except for a month or so during the summer, it hasn’t looked like me for a while. The clean-shaven appearance depicted here has been replaced with facial hair, in the form of a horseshoe moustache.
You are probably wondering what a horseshoe moustache is. Basically, it’s a moustache that extends from the corners of the lips down to the chin. It is so-named because it resembles an upside-down horseshoe. Most people mistakenly call it a Fu Manchu. I have also had people refer to it as a handlebar. I didn’t know which was correct, so I had to look it up to find out.
To prevent you from potential future embarrassment – after all, what could be a bigger social faux pas than wrongly identifying a moustache - both a Fu Manchu and a handlebar are moustaches where the ends are grown out long; the ends of the Fu droop down and the ends of the handlebar point up, like Rollie Fingers with his waxed tips.
Though it is not a common sight on me, facial hair hasn’t been a rarity, either. My driver’s license has a 2003 photo in which I look like a goateed criminal from a Quentin Tarantino film. At one time or another, I’ve had just about every facial hair combo imaginable, including a collegiate attempt at a Civil War general look with the moustache and sideburns connected.
What is rare – these days anyway - is when I grow it for my personal satisfaction. Generally, it means I have a part in a local theater production. Earlier this year, to play the role of George Bernard Shaw in the Janesville Performing Arts Center’s production of “The Frogs,” I had to sport a full beard. When my current shrubbery first appeared, several people assumed I was doing another play.
Truth be told, there really isn’t a reason. I came back from a summer backpacking trip in New Mexico with two weeks of growth and just decided to see how it looked if I shaved it this way.
You don’t see this style of moustache much these days, though my favorite baseball player, Robin Yount, still sports one. So did Joe Namath when he was the toast of New York, and John Lennon during the “Sgt. Pepper” era. Even though it’s not unusual, it’s still a bit on the edge.
Reactions to my new look have been pretty comical. Many people didn’t say a word when they first saw it – which I generally interpret as disapproval. Others have accused me of trying to look like a biker, or of being inspired by the cowboys I saw in New Mexico. A couple of my co-workers think it makes me look Mexican, and have nicknamed me “Carlos.”
The general consensus of my teenagers’ friends is “thumbs up.” However, I don’t score well among the demographic that consists of adult females with the last name of Lyke.
Not long after I returned from New Mexico, I did a presentation at my mother’s church. When my mother saw me walk in, she had this horrified look on her face. She immediately put her fingers in front of her face to draw a moustache. I knew exactly what she was telling me.
Of course, the superdelegate in this opinion poll is my wife. If she could hold me down and shave it off herself, she probably would. In fact, I’m surprised she hasn’t already tried it while I’m asleep. Maybe I shouldn’t be giving her ideas.
Now that the horseshoe has passed the two-month mark, she’s realized that this look – which she has dubbed “a hick from the ‘60s” - isn’t necessarily a passing fancy. We’ve had to come to an understanding that she’ll just have to accept my moustache, and I’ll just have to accept the fact that she won’t grow her hair to her waist. Not that I didn’t try striking that bargain, mind you.
If my new look survives into 2009 – and trust me, there is great pressure for it not to - it will probably be time to replace the photo that adorns this column. Until then, I recommend drawing on the moustache with a black Sharpie marker. If you do that, however...please don’t add horns.
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