Super Baby

Out riding along in our automobile around the Beechmont area of Louisville, a call comes in. A child is on a ledge. They need our help. This is old school. We arrive on scene. Let's get our portable trampoline. Move move move. What?

The portable trampoline went off track in 1907?

We must act quickly a child's life is in danger. Not a child but a BABY? 18 months old! He is going to fall, oh noooo!

Never fear, a local hero caught super baby as his first solo attempt at flight failed. Whew. That baby is safe. YEAHHH. Celebration, fireworks. Wait, why was the baby in a window sill anyway. Oh thats right, momma and papa were getting the nasty on in the shower. Don't blame them they are in LOVE. Attraction much. Chemistry. Like a tractor beam, sucked them right in. They have such a connection. Just lock the kids in a room, they will be ok. The baby gate was up, hello? And besides anyway look at him, he's fine, he was with his brother...who is 2 1/2, and mature for his age and...and, and he's...where is that kid anyway?

Day at the firehouse

Ok, well I was told that I should be documenting my journey as a firefighter. "Write down every run you make and one day write a book," I was told by a retired firefighter while still in drill school. Well I have been on the job for three years and have never got around to doing that. Maybe this can be the start of something new, something eye opening to all you patrons in the bustling city working and running to and fro without really knowing what we do everyday. This is a common day at the firehouse at the Louisville Fire Department.

Arrive at 7:15 and shave and put on the uniform of the day (my blues). Being a firefighter at a company with 3 firefighters means that we take details, a rotation of 2 each to fill other open spots in other firehouses throughout the city. I am stationed at Engine 19 but was detailed to Engine 22, the fastest engine company in the city on this day.

Once I get my gear on track (put all my gear on the engine) and check some things on the engine (medical equipment, water, radios) everyone sort of hangs out a little in the morning. Sitting around chatting and drinking coffee, reading the paper. Since I am still the newest member of the department the responsibility to start the cleaning falls on me. Toilets, sinks, empty trash, sweep and mop the floors, wash and dry dishes. All common tasks that we all do at our own homes. After finding a place to bed down in the community bedroom we all sort of do our own thing, and wait for the bell to go off.

First run of the day is a medical call. Short of air. A very typical type of emergency medical call. We respond with Louisville Metropolitan EMS. We arrive first and take vital signs (pulse, blood pressure, level breathing) and get all the information we can from the patient or from the family members. Now we are firefighters first, emt's second. I am pretty certain no one becomes a firefighter because they want to be an emt, if they wanted that they would probably just do it. So there are all sorts of styles and demeanors that erupt as the variety of firefighters must become gentle and understanding to comprehend the complainant's woes. Some will sit down and be kind and caring, some get mad and annoyed at the stupidity of the calls, some are all business, some joke, some call people darling or honey. Everyone's personality comes out in each call we make, and I'll be honest, the dumber the call the less patient our response. We then wait with the patient until EMS arrives, we help load them on the bed and away we both go.

These are very common, our next run was the same, short of air except the patient had TB, AIDS, and bed bugs. Be very careful on these runs.

We also make car wrecks. This run had a little flair because the driver thought it was a good time to shoot up, while driving. It takes a certain skill set to shoot up drugs and bob and weave through traffic, this gentlemen unfortunately did not possess that skill.

Also, falls, cuts, etc. Our next was a little girl who was somehow playing with glass and got a gash on her forehead. It was not bleeding when we arrived and she wasnt crying. Basically at that point we really wont do anything. We will wait on the "am bu lance" and let them drive her to the hospital to get some stitches. However...things in the west end are different, the parent wanted us to pull out some street doctor magic and stitch her up on scene. We can't do that we say. She is in disbelief. How bout a band aid she says. That won't do we say. Come to find out, and it is unfortunate, she was hesitant to go all the way to the hospital because she would not have a way home, no car, not even a few bucks to get a bus ride home. We were tempted to give her money but we are advised to stay away from such activities. She told us to cancel the ambulance because she will "get it figured out." We concluded that meant the little girl will only get the band-aid we left with them.

And last but not least, who could forget the reckless mustang plowing through a parked car at a gas station at 6 in the morning. Why? We don't even ask anymore. The last we saw of him he was cuffed in the back of a police car.

Throw in a few more medical runs much like the first and that is our day. Hope this helps.

It's just a cat right?

I had a good friend text me the other day, "Dear settled homeowner, are u in the market for a beautiful gray cat w blue eyes? he will surely turn ur house into a home. price: free. sweet, cuddly, but not needy." Well sounds like a bargain if I have ever heard of one. There are several factors that go into this decision. 1. As a young boy, I indeed did have a gray sheeba feline known as Smokey. Ah the memories are flooding back... 2. I AM a settled homeowner I can do WHATEVER the darn well I please with this establishment. Ill bring in a Siberian Tiger if I WANT! Of course I'll take a cat. 3. Loaded message, "surely can turn your house into a home." What homeowner doesn't secretly want your house to be THE hangout? What homeowner doesnt want the HOME in HOMEowner to be taken literally? Who wants a house that is not a home? So in a matter of several seconds, I agreed. I am now the owner of a fat cat named Isaac.

I am From

Originally composed
Sept. 9, 2005

I am From
(Based on George Ella Lyon’s I am From)

I am from a warm kitchen
On a cold Saturday.
From a wood-burning stove on Christmas.
I am from oatmeal in the mornings,
And Atari with my brother in the afternoon.

I am from the Old Barn
And rusty rim.
From the trees and the locusts that
Accompanied them.
George and Gary, trips on the tire swing,
Ray and the long field he mowed.

I am from Corn Creek and chicken fences,
From Aunt Esther and Uncle Jerry.
I am from Jack, Jason, Jared and the laughter
That always followed us around.

I am from Grandma’s noodles
And lasagna on Birthdays.
My dad’s pep talks.
My memories,
All kept in a cardboard box in my garage
And in my heart.

Foul Smells

I was fast asleep in the comfort of my bed when I was awakened by a sound. It seemed to me to be a part of my dream. This sound can best be described as a "yelp." A sound that a dog in distress might make. I am watching a young dog which many know as Brownie. Can Brownie be hurt I think, is she alerting me to some impending doom that awaits me outside of my doorstep? Alas, I shall come to her aide. I open the door to the bedroom to descend down into the living quarters of 1310 Lindsey St. What I found was more than unpleasant. It seemed that in my naivety of dogsitting I committed one of the classic blunders. The first of which is to never engage in a classic bout of tug-of-war with a bulldog for money, and the second but widely more known is to never assume that a dog has the same hygiene as that of a human. Did Brownie care that the whole ground floor smelled like grainy processed poopy beef? Well no. Did she care that not only did she start on the stairs and make her way all the way to the hallway with her "business," that she also failed to wash her paws after? Well certainly not! With all due respect Brownie is a well-trained dog, but I did her a disservice by not giving her amble time the previous evening to just simply be a dog. You know, chase a squirrel, puke and then eat it, poop, eat grass, roll in a dead bird, typical dog stuff. So I learned my lesson right?

I come home from work this morning, open the door and am greeted by that old familiar, cover my nose with my t-shirt and hold my breath as long as I can while I get the paper towels, grainy processed poopy beef smell.

So what to do with all those things. I wasn't going to throw those stinking poopy towels in the trash, the toilet bowl is the appropriate place. It started with 3, then 6, and eventually maybe 10 or so. I threw them in and as I toss the last one in my own bowels rumble and realized nature had called for me. So naturally, I sit and take care of my own business. I clean up and flush. It wasn't good. 10 paper towels plus Brownie's waste, plus my waste, plus my toilet paper=a clogged toilet. Where's the plunger, where's a toilet brush, a comb, anything? It's rising. Oh no. I don't want to. I don't want to. Ohhh alriiigggght. What better climax to this horrible event then to have to stick my hand in the toilet and unclog all of the feces. I mean I love when my hand smells like poop, I really do.

Man Trip VII Adirondack Mountains, NY

Matt McCarty=Hero
Matt Murphy=Boone
Josh McCarty=Black Widow (BW)

The frenzy to plan our man trip started a few fateful days before our ETD with a nonchalant visit to The Map Store. Boone originally had our sights set upon a leisurely 28 mile loop through scenic Vermont, a backlash against the two previous back breaking trips (Wisconsin and 4 Pass Loop Maroon Bells, CO). The curiosity that led us to check out a new backpacking store also fated us to cross paths with one Doug Davis-fresh new resident to Louisville from NY-. Boone's chat with this gentleman persuaded us to change our plans with a drop of a hat and consider the beautiful mountains of the Adirondacks in NY. A few pics from google and a little pep talk from Double D and our itinerary changed, that simple.

Tuesday 5 pm-1013 Alabama Ave, the men congregated. We shared laughs, a few farewells, some snapshots, some fine rope, a fudgesicle to wet our whistles and we were off.

8 pm- Sonic. BW and Hero planned a food exchange, a swaap that left Boone standing alone with his tator tots. He retaliated by simply ordering more...foot long, who wants a footlong!

8 -11 pm- Hero drove much of the way Tues because BW was trying to do homework (for his degree which to the relief of everyone reading this he has finally graduated). He didnt get much finished. Hero took to the back seat to watch 300 while BW and Boone mended broken fences. A frank talk about finances, work, and family responsibility ensued and proved to be very fruitful. During the film, Hero noticed his throat hurt when he swallowed, maybe nothing.

Wed 12 am- Stayed in the La Quinta Inn near Erie, PA. BW was full of Christian gaiety and entertained while Boone and Hero sneaked into bed. Hero was innocently disrobing for bed and was ridiculed for his choice to sport whitey tightys. He felt the snugness the briefs gave him justified his choice. BW came to bed late after trying to work on his studies late into the night.

8 am- Mistake #1 We didnt leave the hotel nearly early enough. Our lack of concern for the beast of a haul we had ahead of us would prove costly. Hero's throat still hurt and even worse, he developed a chest cold with a wonderful green goo that demanded exit every so often. He was still in the middle of making salt water when Boone mistook it for an unused cup. He wondered why his apple juice just "didnt taste quite right?"

1 pm- Mistake #2 We stopped at Friendly's to dine in. This simply being the result of our dedication to the declaration that while in NY we could not eat at a common chain restaurant. While the dining experience and chatting with the locals put a smile on our faces, it really put a dent in our time. We started to realize we were behind schedule.

3 pm- Boone, leaning up into the front from the backseat, "It smells like B.O. and death up here."

3:19 pm- Boone gags from direct result of the acid bomb BW dropped full of recycled fast food.

5 pm- We realized we were fighting dusk and denied BW his request to stop and get Subway for the trail. He accepted it. But this was met with a melancholy reaction, "I'm not that hungry anyway. Now I'm sad."

6:15 pm- We entered the Adirondack Wilderness area but still had 20 or so miles to drive to the trail head. After discussing our options we decided it best to just camp at the first available spot and not hike to base camp until the following morning. We arrived to the trail head before dark, loaded up and hit the trail. Our first night we bedded down on the rocky edge of a creek, just off a shimmering lake. Boone began his quest to the Phelps Food Award* with delicious cheese burgers. BW was sad.

Thur 7:30 am- We awoke to a foggy morning with a welcomed chill in the air. After being startled by some DNR's, we quickly packed up and hit the trail. Base camp was a little over 5 miles away.

7:33 am- "This is really enjoyable and there isn't much I would rather be doing than hiking."

8:19 am- "I mean hiking is cool and all, but I dont know if it's that enjoyable."

10:22 am- "I don't like hiking."


11:30 am- Our relative easy hike turned quite rocky, many many small boulders became the norm. Nonetheless we enjoyed many river crossings, small bridges, and several laughs along the way. We dined for lunch at a monument from the 1880's where a gentleman passed, may he RIP. BW lost his yellow Nalgene here, we think.

4:30 pm- We reached our base camp and after some deliberation decided upon the more private of two shelters, away from the acid filled lake with no fish. We also learned no fires were allowed.

7 pm - The evening consisted of competitive meals, more relaxing, and some fine cigars.

9:30 pm- We hung our food (bears), climbed in our bags, and enjoyed the sweet sound of Boone's harmonica. He about had lulled us to sleep when he offered it up for anyone else to try. Hero politely declined due to his cold, but BW thought eagerly accepted. Hello life on the Bayou. His ignorance for musical rhythm and meter proved to be to his advantage as he declared with great delight, "Anybody can play the harmonica!"

Fri 8 am- The trio woke to a surprising warmer morning, but with warmth brought many clouds to the sky. Our day hike consisted of the plan to climb to the peak of Mt. _______________ , which rose 2000 ft in a little under 2 miles. The hike was beautiful, with stream crossings, waterfalls, and picture perfect scenic views. But there was a price to be paid for such loveliness. Many times we had to resort to gymnastic like stretches in order to climb the rough terrain. A mere two feet would not be enough to summit this wily peak. Rocks, roots, trees, and even boulders above helped us achieve each new 1000 meter plateau.

11 am- As we neared the top, a strong mist appeared, accompanied by an even stronger wind. As we donned our rain jackets fellow hikers warned us of strong wind gusts up to 40 mph at the peak. They were not exaggerating. It was all we could do to keep our balance once the gales hit us. With haste we trekked to the top, only to discover with rain and clouds also brings fog. Interpretation - RAIN + CLOUDS + FOG + 4000 ft. = TERRIBLE VIEW. We may as well been looking into a rubber room painted gray. The experience of defeating the mountain with such wind was exhilarating, but as quickly as we got to the top, we equally as quickly scampered down.

11:07 am- We forgo our elaborate lunches for Snickers Bars.

11:12 am- Light mist turns to good ol fashioned rain.

12:12 pm- Boone, "Everyone watch your step, be careful."

12:14 pm- BW slips on a moss covered slope.

12:16 pm- BW again pays no attention to the fact we are walking down a literal mountain face covered with algae and water. This time he adds flare to the fall by sending his walking stick flailing through the air before he lands again on his backside.

12:21 pm- You guessed it.

1:40 pm- We arrive back to base camp. We agree the trail may be one of the best we have ever been on. If the splendor and beauty at the top could have been seen it would have our votes for sure. It is raining still, the group decides to pack up and head out. Who wants to spend another night on the trail in the rain. Not us, not no way not no how. Hero declares we can only stop once all the way back to the car. It takes us two hours to cover five miles of rocky terrain. There are few driving forces that are stronger than the promise of clean warmth after being on a long wet backpacking trip.

6 pm- We arrive at Lake Placid to find we are quite let down. It is a far messier and less compact version of our queen city, Aspen-where the beer flows like wine.

6:20- Holding true to our Man Trip Motto we dine at the very foreign __________________ Steak House. We are greeted by a very icy foreigner who seats us with not so much as a smile. Boone, not being able to stand the lack of attention we have received begins to pepper our hostess with questions.

Boone "So where are you from?"
Helga "Katzcataskan."
Boone "Oh, school?"
Helga "No."
Boone "So then, how did you arrive here, why are you here?"
Helga "Come, eh, I miz my family, friend." Then abruptly leaves.

We never really break the ice with Helga.

6:42 pm- Boone, "I eh, um, how you say...spa?"

What trip is complete without Hero cackling at the top of his lungs in a public setting. Boone's improvised impression of Helga struck a chord in Hero's fun factory. BW was very embarrassed, as usual.

7:42 pm- We check into our hotel, complete with a spa.

7:49 pm- 4 old people in spa.

7:58 pm- 4 old people still in spa.

8:07 pm- 2 old people in spa who have now realized we are stalking the spa.

8:16 pm- We enjoy the spaaaaaaah...and by enjoy I mean have hold your breath competitions and swim laps.

9:30 pm- 3 hot young men in a place far far away from home. We must get out, hit the town, grab some beers, pick up some hookers...we went to Baskin Robbins. The rain started falling again and we retreated to our room.

10:51 pm- There is discussion as whether to hit the road early and make the long trek back in one day or stay and sight see. We don't decide but we do turn the lights out and snooze.

Sat 7 am- Boone makes the declaration, we are to head home...TODAY! We gather our things and prepare our minds for the fact that Man Trip VII is winding down.

8 am- We stop at a local breakfast nook to grab a quick bite. Upon entering we are greeted with an unwelcome comment from another patron, "Well I can tell you guys have been up in the mountains." Mind you, we are all freshly shaved, showered, and clothed.

How rude we think.

9 am-We backtrack several familiar roads simply to find a gas station to fill up we passed 30 minutes before.

9:12 am- We hit the interstate for a long ride home.

Sun 1:30 am Arrive back at 1013 Alabama Ave. We have laughed, lived, and learned all through yet another man trip. Until next year.

A revelation of sorts

I like to make strange comments to people in passing, just for the inward pleasure that I receive from it. No one may think it is funny or even get why I would do such a thing but I always smile, if not outwardly, on the inside. This is typically for the benefit of a group and we always get a cheap laugh out of it.

An example might be like when a friend of mine that is a teacher, his wife, and I were exiting the Great Escape movie theater one Friday night. As we saw a group of young adolescents approaching in the distance he exclaimed, "Oh no there are some of my students." So I could not let this opportunity to make such a comment pass by, and as our groups exchanged places on the sidewalk I put my hand on a fellow's chest and said, "How you doing young son?" Obviously my friend was horrified and the high school kids gave me a strange look. Later that week at school that student told my friend, "Your friend was weird." Excellent.

So yesterday as I was leaving the bank I saw a girl with a Silver Creek sweatshirt on talking on her cell phone and simply gave her a "Go Silver Creek #1!" Again she looked at me as if I were an alien of some sorts.

Fast forward a few hours and I am out running trying to stay fit. From behind me I hear "Citizens arrest, citizens arrest...for going more than 20 miles an hour on the sidewalk, whew!" Some old guy in a beat up Ford Ranger. I instantly think, what an idiot...and then it dawns on me...that is me in like 30 years. So at that moment I had to decide if I thought that guy was really really funny or if it is time for me to change my ways.