Well, Here 'tis. My first entry in my first Blog. To quote my home page,

I'm a . . .
born-again Jesus Phreak
long haired
history-loving
nonconformist
conservative
body-pierced
skeptical
tattooed
pro-life
book-loving
spaceflight-advocating
music-loving
flag-waving patriotic veteran
husband
father
friend
and geek.

. . . any questions?

Tune in to this Blog for the answers to those and other questions you probably couldn't care less about. ;^)

No, it's not a reference from The Matrix, it's the title of a short story written by Harlan Ellison.

It's also how I feel after contracting for the Federal Gov't for a month. God, I can't imagine what it must be like to be a Gov't drone all your life.

Happy Valentine's Day! This afternoon, I'll pick up a rose and card for Jill and spend the rest of the evening cleaning house. Mom is coming to visit for the weekend. It's been a while since I've seen her, and I'm really looking forward to it. Maybe that'll be enough to get me out of this blue funk I've been stewing in.

WARNING: This is long and impassioned, but it will explain where I'm coming from regarding space exploration.

For as long as I can remember, I have been enamored of space exploration. My first memories of the U.S. space program were of me sitting in the living room with my family, watching the Apollo Saturn V vehicle steaming on the launch pad, while Uncle Walter's voice intoned a description of man's future in space. In those days (I was all of six years old), I would take three of my Mom's dining room chairs and lay them on their backs. This was my "Apollo capsule." My dream from that day on was to become an astronaut. I wanted it so bad I could taste it. I never even considered a "plan b."

I grew up with the Apollo program. My goal was to grow up to be an astronaut.

Fast forward to high school. Twelve years later, we hadn't had an American in space in 5 years, except for the inaugural flight of the space shuttle. I was really excited about that, but soon realized that it was a vehicle in search of a mission. It only went to Low Earth Orbit (LEO), after all. This wasn't exploration, it was a taxi service! The Challenger accident only served to underline that it was even more dangerous than we were supposed to believe. Still, I would have given anything to "ride the fire" into space - even LEO!

In the meantime, I joined the Air Force and got married. With the pressures and concerns of raising and supporting a family, I all but forgot my dreams of spaceflight. Then came Ron Howard's Apollo 13. As I walked out of the theater, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I literally bawled my eyes out for ten minutes. This movie, with its superb storytelling and awesome effects, had brought back to the surface what had been suppressed in my subconscious for almost ten years. It forced me to remember the yearning to go into space with which I had grown up.

I went into overdrive, devouring everything I could get my hands on about the early space program. I journeyed to Johnson Space Center six times that year. The following year I bought a season pass for my family to Space Center Houston! I've been to Kennedy Space Center (which has been Disneyfied beyond belief) five times, Marshall Space Flight Center twice, Jet Propulsion Labs once, and seen two shuttle launches (STS-94 and STS-95). They may only be playing taxi, but it's still a spectacular sight.

With time, though, I realized that If we are going to ever go into space for real, it won't be NASA that does it. It will be civilian companies that do it to make money. There is ample precedent for this. When explorers left the old world, they were financed by companies who were looking for gold, exotic goods, etc. I believe this is how we will eventually expand into space on a large scale.

In 1998, I read a book by some guy named Robert Zubrin. The title was The Case for Mars. In it, Mr. Zubrin explained logically and thoroughly how we could get people to Mars within a decade, using present-day technology. Not only that but it could be done for only about forty billion dollars! Now, that's a lot of money, but all NASA's studies up to that point had estimated over a quarter of a trillion dollars!

Upon reading this book I got real excited. Mr. Zubrin had made a believer out of me. At the same time, he and a group of scientists and space advocates known as the "Mars Underground" were forming an organization called the Mars Society.

Unfortunately,I don't think any group will make a difference until individuals get motivated to do so. Robert Zubrin is a great motivator on paper. Unfortunately, based on public statements and documents, he seems to be a control freak. That, combined with the cult of personality that the Mars Society has become, limits (or negates) any effectiveness in advocating for manned space exploration. Also, it is my experience that even most people who are interested in such things want to sit back and be spoon-fed, rather than get out and do something about it. Apathy abounds, not only in the general populace, but in those of use who should be most motivated to make a difference. Try the National Space Society, Space Frontier Society, or the Planetary Society. They at least seem to be able to move in the right direction.

"Earth is the cradle of humanity, but one cannot live in a cradle forever."
- Konstantin E. Tsiolkovski

That brings us to today. I'm not bitter, though it may sound that way; just a little more aware of human nature. But I cannot forget the above quote from Tsiolkovski. We have been in space for over forty years now, and the vast majority of our own planetary system is still unexplored. Let's get out there and do something about it!

School's out, so I'm back to the normal level of chaos inherent to my world.
I've discovered a new blog: Real Live Preacher. This is a thought provoking man who, no matter what you think of what he says, is quite unique in the blogosphere. Take a look around. I think you'll like it.

I work with a very sweet lady, whose birthday is today.So, without further ado:

Happy birthday, Sylvia! And many returns of the day.

I met Jill on the 14th of June, 1985. It was literally love at first sight. I proposed to her a week after we met, and, unbelievably, she said yes! I was living in Dallas and she was going to Baylor University in Waco, so we saw each other mainly on the weekends. We talked, we necked, we talked some more. She was everything I had ever dreamed of: smart, beautiful, loved classical music; and so much more.

We made plans to be married in April of 1987. In August of '86, I got fired from my job. I drove down to Baylor, sure that she would dump me when I gave her the news. Instead, she gave comfort where it was needed, and let me know that she would stick with me, no matter what.

I joined the Air Force soon after that; my father had also served in the Air Force, and I was excited to be able to do so as well, but I also needed a steady income.

We were married April 11, 1987. We moved to Sacramento, CA, to Mather AFB, my first duty station. It was Jill and I, together; it couldn't get any better than this.

December of '87, after returning from leave, we found out that Jill was pregnant. Now, Jill was a ready-made mom, but I had never been around small children. Needless to say, I was apprehensive. The day before Labor Day, September 4th, 1988, Sarah Christine Bell was born to us. My wife was still out from anesthesia applied during an emergency caesarian, so I had the honor of being the first to feed my daughter. I can still remember her, cradled in my arm (her entire body fit my arm from elbow to fingertip - she was so tiny!) as I she sucked her first bottle.

A daughter is a special gift. I've watched her grow over the years, learning, often the hard way, about being a good father. Last September, she turned fourteen. In January, she announced that she has a boyfriend. My God, she's not old enough yet. She is growing up quickly, and it always seems too fast. Cody, her boyfriend, came by last night to deliver a half-dozen roses and a card - and Sarah's first kiss. Sarah was twitterpated for the rest of the evening. Cody's a good kid - and he knows I have a shotgun!

It's good to see my little girl find happiness, but there's always that little pain in my heart that I'm not the only man in her life anymore.

Jill, Sarah: you are the two most important women in my life. Together you bring me more joy than I ever thought possible. I want you to know, Sarah, that I will always be here for you no matter how much you grow up - and away; and Jill, I take joy and comfort in the knowledge that you are here, sharing the rest of your life with me.

Happy Valentine's Day to both of you. I love you always.

Let me set this up with some backstory. I was adopted by my wonderful parents when I was six weeks old. I have never known my birth parents; in fact, I've never thought of my adoptive parents as anything but my parents. I've always held a mild curiosity about my birth parents (mother was 15, father was 22, unmarried), but not enough to actively seek them out. Perhaps this is because my adoptive parents have loved me so. Besides, Alabama seals the original birth certificate upon adoption, making it very difficult to start such a search.

On the other hand, my daughter Sarah has, unbeknownst to me, been obsessing over her heritage and thus, my birth parents.

Well, last Friday when I got home, Sarah was really excited, and wanted to show me something on the computer. I didn't think much of it; she's always wanting to show me something on the computer. This, however, got my attention.

It seems that the Alabama legislature passed a law in 2001 unsealing original pre-adoption birth certificates for access to the adoptee. Sarah was ecstatic, literally jumping up and down and squealing with delight. I thought it was quite cool, but the import of it really didn't sink in. Needless to say, we downloaded and filled out the .PDF of the proper paperwork, wrote out a check for $20 to the appropriate department, and mailed it out the next morning.

It's starting to sink in. In the days since I sent off the application for my original birth certificate, I have been constantly thinking about it. Who are they? Have they gone on to build a good life for themselves? Would they be interested in meeting? Are they even still alive?

I'm excited; I'm nervous; I'm apprehensive. But I'll know these answers soon.

To my birth parents: Thank you for giving me up for adoption. I know it couldn't have been easy. I hope to see you soon.

Last month, I wrote here about discovering the identity of my birth parents. Well, I received the original birth certificate in the mail.

My birth mother's name (at least in 1963) was Diane Gartman. She was 15 years old at the time of my birth. (15! My own daughter turns 15 in September!) No name is listed for the father.

I've done a quick'n'dirty internet search on her name and got nothing substantial.

Past this, I don't have any idea what to do to locate her. I would like to know her (and, perhaps, my birth father). If anyone reads this who has any ideas, please pass them on in the comments section.

My daughter, Sarah, turns 15 today at 3:04PM CST.

Where does the time go?

It seems like yesterday that we were going to the hospital at Mather AFB. Jill's labor took forever, the pain finally stopped by an emergency Caesarian. While Jill recovered from the anesthesia, I was privileged to give Sarah her first sustenance.

Laying there on my arm, head at my elbow and feet barely reaching my fingertips, I was in love. I fell hard and have never recovered.

I wasn't there for Sarah's first, tentative steps. Jill had moved back to Texas with Sarah to start her first teaching job, while I stayed behind in California to finish my tour of duty.

It took a long time for me to learn what it is to be a father, and I've made more than my share of mistakes. But I've learned that it's never too late to pick the torch back up and take off running again.

I remember her first laughter.

I remember her first day of Kindergarten.

I remember Christmas Eve, staying up half the night with my best friend, putting together her first dollhouse.

I remember when she was hurt by a friend, wishing I could take away the heartache, but only being able to hold her in my arms.

I remember her first day in Jr. High, then High School.

I remember all the hugs she has ever given, and how warm they make me feel inside.

I remember all these things, and more. But I don't remember her growing from that little baby into a beautiful young woman. Yet, somehow, when I wasn't looking, it happened.

The hardest part is learning to let go. I so want to protect her from all the bumps and potholes along life's road. Unfortunately, it is those very bumps & potholes which help us learn about life itself.

Someday, I'll have the privilege of giving her away when she marries that one special man. I know he'll be special, because I'm not going to give her away to just anyone. I know it won't be easy. I guess I just have to let go, a bit at a time.

I love you, Sarah. You are the apple of my eye, and the most special young lady in the universe. I am so proud of you.

Happy birthday, sweetheart.

Last week, both of my sons were away at church camp. Since my daughter is at the 15-year-old it's-summer-and-I-have-to-spend-all-my-time-wth-my-friends stage, the house was eerily quiet all week long.

So what did Spousal Unit & I do while they were all gone? Well, yeah . . . but that's not what I'm talking about. We remodeled the boys' room.

It was worth the effort when the boys got home. Sean's jaw just hit the floor. He was speechless (he's 11, so this is no mean feat). Duncan did his 7-year-old rendition of the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes winner, hands to his mouth and squealing with delight.

Church camp - $150. Materials for the room - $50. The warm feeling in this father's heart at making a memory - priceless. I love being a Dad.

Well, we had a little excitement around here last night. Around 11:00, we were relaxing in the study when we heard a weird honking sound. My wife looked out the window to see what it was, and hollered, "Ohmygosh! That truck's on fire!" This was less than 100 yards from our house.

Turns out that the weird honking sound was the fire truck trying to get the idiots who park on this street to move their cars; it was having trouble getting through!

Well, for once I had a camera handy, and you can see the results below. (Click on the thumbnail to see full-size image.)

We just finished watching an episode of Babylon 5. For those of you familiar with the series, it's the one where LtCdr. Ivanova's father passes away. It's been three and a half years now since my father died, but it still comes out of nowhere from time to time: God, how I miss my father.

Dad was of the WWII generation, but he was unusual in that he told me in word as well as deed how much he loved me. He had no problem with public displays of affection.

When he passed away, nothing had been left unsaid. But I'd give anything to have five more minutes with him to say it again.

Not too long ago, I found myself turning 41. As can be common around this age, I have been doing my own personal mid-life progress check. Also as can be common, I have found that I'm sick of doing what I currently do for a living. (I'm the tech guy where I work.) Beloved Wife and I have been talking of this very thing for a while now, and I've figured out what I want to do with the rest of my days: gunsmithing.

We have been researching different avenues of education: apprentice with a Master smith, trade school, self-teaching. Apprenticing is right out: With a wife, three kids and a mortgage, I can't just quite my current position to apprentice for a long period of time. I could teach myself; that's how I've learned most of the things at which I excel; but that is fraught with its own set of drawbacks. Trade schools: There are few gunsmithing schools, and Colorado School of Trades seems to be the best of the lot; There are also some associate degree/certificate programs, but I'm not as sure of their reputations. And, as hinted above, I have to worry about both paying for the school and maintaining at least my current level of income at the same time.

This is where you come in: does anyone have any ideas or suggestions on how to begin and make this major life move? Any knowledgeable input would be greatly appreciated.

We have an offer on the house!

Courtesy of Worship Naked, a new meme:

Answer these questions, thinking back to when you were anywhere from 5 to 10 years old:

1) Toy you were most obsessed with:
2) Activity you were most obsessed with:
3) Item you were most obsessed with getting for Christmas:
4) Food obsession:
5) Book or story obsession:
6) Candy obsession:
7) TV show obsession:

Several weeks ago, we finally found the land on which we want to build our home. Last Friday, we made an offer and it was accepted.

Today we finally got the financing arranged. I still can't believe that land is considered a greater risk than a home for financing; it's not like the land is going to disappear or something.

Anyway, we'll probably go in tomorrow to fill out whatever paperwork is necessary, and then on to the rest of the process of planning, picking out, and building. Oy vay, I'll be glad when this is done and we're moved in!

Life has been interesting of late. We're finally in a wonderful home, surrounded by beautiful countryside, and both of us have the jobs of our dreams. Everything is pretty much perfect.

You'd think so, wouldn't you? Internally, I've been going through the most tumultuous period of my life. Without going into unnecessary detail, I am dealing with a number of issues that have converged at once, and it scares me.

Things are looking much better. The storms in my life are starting to calm, and the light of the Son is chasing away the darkness.

It is so difficult to see that there will be an "after" when you are in the midst of towering waves. Though I could not see them, the shorelines never moved; just my perception of them. I thank God that He is faithful.

or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Lord

For many years, I have gone back and forth in my Christian walk, being tossed this way by the words of one group, swayed that way by the doctrines of another, and distracted by the emotional appeals of yet others.

This is a certain recipe for unhappiness, if not disaster, especially if your are the kind of person who always asks "why?" Unfortunately, I've often been the kind of person to ask why, then take someone's word for the answer, rather than searching it out for myself.

Those days are over. I'm losing my religion.

The journey continues apace . . .

God, as always, has seen me through the storm. Since He brought me to myself, there is a peace in my soul that has been absent for . . . well, for far too long.

It's amazing me what God will use to draw us back to Him. You'd probably be shocked as well; He is most assuredly bigger than the box we put Him in. Suffice it to say that, sometimes we need to walk in someone else's footsteps for awhile before we can truly see them through Christ's eyes.

There have been tears, struggles, changes, regrets - but I guess that's why it's called the peace that passes understanding. Regardless, I have a substantially different perspective on certain issues, a renewed hunger for God's Word, and the assurance that no matter what happens or where this path may lead, He will never leave me or forsake me.

Even if others do.

Draw me, Lord
Oh, draw me, Lord
And I'll run after you . . .

Today, with the flourish of a pen, we finally became free of all credit card debt!

It took six looong years and much financial pain to dig ourselves out of the financial hole that we created. May this small post stand as mute testimony to the folly of instant gratification.

Six years ago, we decided it might be a good idea to know exactly what we owed in credit card debt, so we sat down and added it all up.

What we found was staggering.