Tone of Voice and My Friend Doug Bailey

Tybee Island, Ga. --- I am well aware that I have work to do. In fact, I can see it piled up on my desk here. It is the time of year when I have to pay attention to running the business, balancing the accounts, figuring out how I will make everything work despite slow payment from clients. So, I am well aware I should be working instead of writing but now and then I have to write for therapy.

A few things have spurred this writing spell –

1. My daughter’s best buddy – spott – has some serious health problems and like all of our best friends we agonize over the quality of their life and how we will deal with the loss. Those of you that know me know I don’t have a day pass that I don’t think about my ole buddy Stimpy and how much he meant to me – this despite the fact I have two great buddies with me right now – Max and Little Bit – it is just the romantic’s makeup – the “what if” part of our lives. What if our dogs could live as long as we did? What if our hearts weren’t broken so many times in our lives that pieces seem to never fully heal? What if we had just told those we love more often that we did love them before they passed? What if we could just get people to understand it is not what they say but how they say it? Those romantics reading this will understand.
2. I found in cleaning up some computer files today the eulogy I gave for a dear and close friend – “Donut Doug” – probably one of the closer male friends I have ever had. Four years ago this past Christmas Doug died in a truck wreck – I will share that eulogy with you at the end of this. What is important to know about Doug is that he understood me and what I dealt with probably more than most men. He was an only child. He understood the importance of language and especially tone of voice and how it could affect any situation because he too had been there and done that as they say.
3. Which brings me to one of the subjects of this blog – tone of voice. I grew up in a household where my Mother and Father would fight – loudly sometimes. Once they realized that I heard them and was greatly disturbed by their actions they went to using “tone of voice” to destroy one another and their arguments became staring and tonal contests. I learned quickly when my Mother used just a tone, never a loud voice, to correct me. Her tone alone could and did reduce me to a shivering heap of a child.

Maybe that is why I have spent almost 60-years of my life studying behavioral psychology and interpersonal communications – maybe I wanted to understand how just the tone of a person’s words can hurt more than anything that can be said or done.

Maybe that is why I don’t trust any politician whose language drips with the syrupy “trust me” and has the arrogant tone of a Senator Arlen Specter, who by the way should resign. If the way he treated Michelle Bachmann the other day is any indication of the way he treats women in general he is a disgrace to the Senate, politicians and to himself. Specter has been able to stay in the Senate and has been protected by both parties because of his inventiveness in coming of with the “Magic Bullet” theory in the JFK assassination. The public has grown weary of him and I predict he will be ousted with a massive vote against his inability to show integrity. Alas, I get away from what I wanted to write about.

Tone of voice

If the world wants to be a kinder and gentler place for us all I suggest people listen carefully to “how” they say what they say. They might just be surprised to find that their ineffective communications comes not from the information they are sharing rather it comes from the way they are sharing it.

Which brings me to Doug.

I miss Doug Bailey the most because he understood this very concept – Doug didn’t have to raise his voice or use force as a police officer to control a situation – he could with his tone of voice control most any situation while on or off duty. He understood that it is very easy to control a situation through words alone and how powerful those words can be when not used properly with the right tone.

Doug was unique among law enforcement and security folks. And what follows was my tribute to him as my friend ...

“Donut Doug”

Every now and then in your life you come across someone that you just know instantaneously is going to be a friend.

Someone who instinctively you realize shares similar values for God and Country, believes that most politicians are simply out to feather their own nests, and who likes dogs and guns.

So it was with Doug Bailey. Doug was a good ole East Tennessee born and reared fellow with a pleasant smile and a soft voice.

I actually met Doug in a snow storm one Christmas when he delivered his sister-in-law Marilyn King for me to pick up at a convenience market so we could share Christmas together.

Marilyn and I go back to our days at Murray State University and for some reason she is another of those friends I have never lost contact with over the last four decades.

Marilyn’s sister Carole married Doug and like she said she knew he was a good fellow when he didn’t run screaming from her house one night when her poodle Jasmine peed all over him --- Doug I am sure saw it much like I would --- he was being marked.

Doug like many of us had had a practice marriage. So had Carole. So when the two of them settled in with Carole’s two dogs it was not without careful thought. I have never seen two more compatible and happy people wed.

I met Doug when Carole and Marilyn were making the final plans for their Mother’s funeral. I officiated and gave the eulogy for Mrs. Louella King. Doug was most kind in his comments about the eulogy, however, that is not what made us friends.

Following the funeral Marilyn, Carole and Doug had to do what all children must. They had to make arrangements to settle the Mrs. King’s estate. Now, many spouses especially good ole boys from the South might have shunned any responsibility for this. Not Doug.

Doug had been there every step of the way with the slow decline of Mrs. King supporting her, Carole and Marilyn. Never once did I ever hear him complain, grumble or question the proceedings. Many son-in laws would have become difficult to be around in those circumstances but not Doug.

Doug and I got along so famously I think because he and I were similar in many ways.

He was an only child of parents of humble origins. He liked to read most anything but especially for fun Dean Koontz and magazines about guns. He liked guns and shooting them and he believed an armed society was a polite society. He liked Coast-to-Coast radio late at night and thinking about the esoteric side of life. He liked people and watching them and getting to know them. He liked helping people especially those less fortunate. He liked to eat good steak and have a cold beer. He was conservative in his politics and believed there was a right and a wrong and that our country was worth fighting and dying for. He was patient, kind and considerate to those especially in need of attention. He was gentle and yet firm. He was the kind of guy that you could trust your back to and never doubt it was well protected. He was funny and witty. He was good to his wife and attentive to her. He believed in a God and that John Wayne, Elvis Presley and President Ronald Reagan were national heroes.

Doug Bailey was the kind of person that if I were looking for a friend I could not have found one better. Sadly though Doug four years ago this December parted this world.

Doug liked to drive fast. So do I although I confess at age 59 I have slowed down a lot. One rainy evening enroute to work he failed to negotiate a rains slicked curve on I-440 and Doug joined many of our heroes that had gone before.

This is what I spoke about when I delivered Doug Bailey’s eulogy. Perhaps some of these words will resonate with you this Christmas season and you will truly find love, peace and grace:

The great writer Somerset Maugham once wrote, that ‘The great tragedy of life is not that men perish, but that they cease to love.’

Doug Bailey never ceased to love, of that I am sure. Everyone that came to know Doug knew him as a “Gentle Giant” of a man with a heart as big as they come. A heart that surely even in his final moments on this earth was filled with the love of life, family and friends.

Doug loved his Mom and Dad, his wife Carole, his sister in law Marilyn and each of his friends gathered here – he loved his job with an all consuming passion.

Now, how you say do I know this?

Well, when it comes to Carole let’s simply review the circumstances under which he won her heart --- 10 years ago this time of year --- in 1996 --- with one of the worst snowfalls the city had ever seen on the ground Carole and Doug were to have their first date --- Carole received a call from Doug -- she was certain that he would cancel after all – she lived in Madison – he in Laverne – they had really only talked a few times and she did live at the top of a very steep hill – yet as the time for the date approached with no relief in site for the weather when Doug called he simply confirmed the time he would pick her up – now Marilyn had felt so bad for her – fearing she would spend her birthday alone had sent her flowers – yet the day and time arrived and so did Doug – he was driving a new rented Jeep Cherokee geared to 4-wheel drive --- that was Doug --- dependable, responsible and true to his word – something that we would all learn that we could depend upon ---

Some of you will suggest that this was the sign of true love.

But this is the rest of the story --- shortly after this date one evening Carole invites Doug into her home to meet her beloved children --- two charming and cuddly poodles --- Jasmine and Black Jack – and when Doug gets seated and comfortable – Black Jack jumps up and proceeds too “mark his territory” on Doug’s pants – yes you heard me right --- now I am pretty sure we know how most men would have reacted --- most men certainly would have not reacted the way Doug did – but you see most men were not Doug – he later told everyone that he knew right then and there that the children were just christening their new Dad --- and as you know Carole -- he loved Jasmine and Black Jack just like they were his own children -

You can tell much about the character of a man by the way they treat animals and children and how they speak of their country, show respect for their flag and their work --- and how they speak of their wife and their mother-in-law ---

As many of you have attested Doug always spoke with great fondness of Carole when at work and remarked of how fortunate he was --- he told many of us – since he had had two practice marriages – that the third time was certainly charmed --- and if you were ever around the two of them you could tell from the way they interacted and spoke to each other that they loved and cherished one another ---

Carole and Marilyn’s Mother – Miss Louell King was equally adored by Doug --- during her extended illness he was always available to assist and help in anyway to care and comfort her, Carole and Marilyn --- he and Miss Louell shared common interests --- a sweet tooth and movies --- and he thought so much of her in fact he even agreed to care for her sickly and aging poodle “Misty” after Miss Louell passed away --- as you know when Doug made a commitment he would always fulfill it /// a valuable lesson that I am sure was taught by his parents –-- now Misty was an aging old soul herself ---blind and incontinent one day Doug went to the garage to check on her and in frustration he kicked not Misty but her bedding --- later he would tell his own Mother --- Miss Shirley that he was certain that he had received a ghostly and swift kick in the butt that day –

Miss Louell surely watched over him then and I am certain greeted him with open and loving arms when he arrived the other night

Doug was one of those sensitive souls that knew just how much a Mother can mean to their daughters --- he was there for them with never a question asked or a complaint given during those days of illness --- it was in fact at Miss Louell’s funeral that I came to truly know Doug and began to cherish and love himself myself ---

Many of you may not know this but Doug has always had a healthy respect for law enforcement --- he began to show that respect early on in his life --- it seems that around age 16 or so that Mr. Bailey had bought and helped him soup up a 1972 Grand Prix (car shopping was something he and his Dad had in common) – Mr. Bailey said he found out only later that the car with its new carburetor would do about 130 – in fact it ran so good that one night as Doug was being chased by the Knoxville PD he felt badly enough about the fact they couldn’t catch him that he actually stopped and waited for them to catch up --- now after being detained and taken to the jail he pleaded with the officers not to arrest him because most assuredly his dad would not bail him out --- after a stern lecture he was released --- and so his love of law enforcement began

Speaking of cars and trucks --- We all know that Doug loved his cars and trucks almost or maybe even as much as he loved his guns and his wife – his favorite car / Mr. Bailey says growing up / was a 1969 Yellow 396 Chevelle --- but whatever car or truck it was – it was Doug’s way all the way – his vehicles were always immaculate, clean inside and out – he was always buying, selling or trading – it was part of his East Tennessee heritage and one that he exercised all his life

Doug was a big reader --- all of his life --- in fact, around the 4th grade or so it seems that his Mom received a call from the principal of his school wondering when Doug was returning --- knowing full well that she and Mr. Bailey thought he was in school she called his Dad and they crept home --- he would later say that he knew he was in big trouble when he heard the high heels on the stairs --- sure enough Doug had --- how do we say gotten bored with school and would slip back home each day after his parents left --- and there he was curled up in bed with his cat and a book

Yep. our friend Doug was a reader, a researcher, a purveyor of knowledge -- if you know Dean Koontz you knew Doug’s favorite author --- yet Doug read lots of stuff – he satisfied his curiosities by reading and researching --- want to know about Human Growth Hormones or the best work out routine --- Doug was your man --- want to know the best ammo for a Glock or how to clean it in the upper tray of your dishwasher --- look no further than Doug--- want to discuss the latest conspiracy theories on 911, UFOs or psychic phenomena – pull up a chair and talk to any depth you wish – in past days Doug might have been called a Renaissance man – frankly I always thought he was just one of the most inquisitive students of human nature that I have ever had the privilege too know

Doug Bailey could do anything – absolutely anything he set his mind to –-- think about it --- at age 46 he chucks his corporate job --– goes to the Academy and fortunately ends up at Vanderbilt University working eventually on the psy detail

When Doug set out to build his body strength, take off weight, shoot a perfect round at the range, or calm down a recalcitrant psych patient there were few that could match his tenacity

So today I want us to remember Doug Bailey in many different ways, the ways that so many of you shared with me the past two evenings --- so how shall we remember this friend, son, husband and officer?

Let us remember Doug as a man of great conviction --- he agonized over his change in career yet he found his great passion in life and he made it come true --- I admire and respect him greatly for that --- and all of us are benefactors of his pursuit of excellence

Let us remember him as truly a Gentle Giant of a Man yet one who could and would turn on his assertiveness and aggressiveness only when all other avenues had been exhausted ---

Doug was a philosopher and often came out with pithy sayings, "An armed society he would say is a polite society"

Let us remember Doug as one whom we would trust our back to under any circumstance because we knew it was covered by the best

Let us remember him as a fellow traveler on this road of humanity that along with Miss Louell had a sweet tooth and always preferred to choose his own goodies - in fact he often signed his emails to me always self deprecatingly --- Donut Doug

Let us remember Doug as a man that was brought up right with the best of southern values, beliefs and principles --- he was taught by his parents to show and give respect and in return he earned it - he understood and practiced integrity

Let us remember him as humble man with great insight and wisdom for his age that set about with his good nature, humor and intelligence to make things easier for the rest of us and that would today hope that we come closer together as friends and colleagues as the result of his life well lived by example

Let us remember Doug as the officer that by humanizing a situation could sweet talk and then waltz a recalcitrant little old lady into the back of a squad car for transport

Let us remember him as one who wore his “Thunderware” with great pride (and for those of you who don't know what “Thundewear” is see me after the services) and that could buy, sell, trade and talk guns as long as you were interested

Let us remember Doug as an officer that could find humor in most anything and share it at just the right time and in the right tone to make life better for all of us even if it was just for a minute

Let us remember this Gentle Giant of a man as one who was proud to be a called SWAG --- a SWAG --- “A Social Worker with a Gun” – a kind, caring and compassionate soul that would often size up a situation with a homeless person and many times in the end give him his last $5

Let us remember Doug as a friend who understood what was truly real and what was transitory in our world – a self-deprecating and self—effacing person who effectively directed attention to others to help them grow themselves into better people

And let us not forget Doug Bailey was a man of opinions based on strong principles and values --- a conservative fellow -- some might say to the right of Attila the Hun --- I would say simply a man of deeply held convictions bore from a life of experience

Doug knew there was good and bad in this world – that there was right and wrong --- and that the highest calling was the protect and serve

Let us remember him as a soft-spoken, gentle hearted fellow that always knew what to say and when to say it and that always gave wonderful loving hugs to his friends and family.

I miss you Doug Bailey I truly do.

Until next time,

Dr. Darryl

Jasmine - One of God's Great Creations

Jasmine In 2003, police in Warwickshire, England , opened a garden shed and found a whimpering, cowering dog. It had been locked in the shed and abandoned. It was dirty and malnourished, and had clearly been abused.

In an act of kindness, the police took the dog, which was a Greyhound female, to the nearby Nuneaton Warwickshire Wildlife Sanctuary, run by a man named Geoff Grewcock and known as a willing haven for Animals abandoned, orphaned or otherwise in need.

Geoff and the other sanctuary staff went to work with two aims to restore the dog to full health, and to win her trust. It took several weeks, but eventually both goals were achieved.

They named her Jasmine, and they started to think about finding her an adoptive home.

But Jasmine had other ideas. No-one remembers now how it began, but she started welcoming all Animal arrivals at the sanctuary. It wouldn't matter if it was a puppy, a fox cub, a rabbit or, any other lost or hurting Animal, Jasmine would peer into the box or cage and, where possible, deliver a welcoming lick.

Geoff relates one of the early incidents. "We had two puppies that had been abandoned by a nearby railway line. One was a Lakeland Terrier cross and another was a Jack Russell Doberman cross. They were tiny when they arrived at the centre and Jasmine approached them and grabbed one by the scruff of the neck in her mouth and put him on the settee. Then she fetched the other one and sat down with them, cuddling them."

"But she is like that with all of our animals, even the rabbits. She takes all the stress out of them and it helps them to not only feel close to her but to settle into their new surroundings.

"She has done the same with the fox and badger cubs, she licks the rabbits and guinea pigs and even lets the birds perch on the bridge of her nose."

Jasmine, the timid, abused, deserted waif, became the animal sanctuary's resident surrogate mother, a role for which she might have been born. The list of orphaned and abandoned youngsters she has cared for comprises five fox cubs, four badger cubs, 15 chicks, eight guinea pigs, two stray puppies and 15 rabbits.

And one roe deer fawn. Tiny Bramble, 11 weeks old, was found semi-conscious in a field. Upon arrival at the sanctuary, Jasmine cuddled up to her to keep her warm, and then went into the full foster mum role. Jasmine the greyhound showers Bramble the Roe deer with affection and makes sure nothing is matted.

"They are inseparable," says Geoff "Bramble walks between her legs and they keep kissing each other. They walk together round the sanctuary.

It's a real treat to see them."

Jasmine will continue to care for Bramble until she is old enough to be returned to woodland life. When that happens, Jasmine will not be lonely. She will be too busy showering love and affection on the next Orphan or victim of abuse.

From left, Toby, a stray Lakeland dog; Bramble, orphaned Roe deer; Buster, a stray Jack Russell; a dumped rabbit; Sky, an injured barn owl; and Jasmine with a Mothers heart doing best what a caring Mother would do...

Such is the order of God's Creation.

Through the Years - A Love Story

Tranquilla 2 - From the Back of Eddy Creek on Lake Barkley -

A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea. Honore de Balzac

In 1989 after Hurricane Hugo devastated our vacation to Pawley's Island, S.C., upon a recommendation from a friend we went to Tybee Island, Ga.

Tybee Island was very different in those days; it was still very much the "quirky" Key West of Georgia. Although much of that "quirkiness" is hidden behind the scenes now, much of that allure still exists for those of us who fit in.

We had the pleasure and honor of meeting and being befriended by Ann and Jim Knipe, a Pennsylvania transplant couple who have become my adopted parents.

This is their love story and it is a slice of my story about my love of this island, my friends, my wife and my dogs and all our friends that still hang out there.

It is rare in life when we can take the time to stop and reflect and share life and this is a small attempt on my part to do just that.

Below are photos from Ann and Jim's 50th anniversary, they have since celebrated their 60th (and when time permits I will load those photos as well). The photos are set to Kenny Rogers "Through the Years."

I hope you enjoy watching it as much as I enjoyed putting it together.

Love, peace and grace, Dr. Darryl

Home Is Where The Heart Is

From the “Love Shack” at Tybee Island, Georgia --- In visiting with our friend Sue by phone here at the island a while ago, it dawned on me as to the answer to the question: “What is it about Tybee Island that makes you like it so much?”

As I was telling Sue, for some reason I have never really felt like I had a “home” where I could be “just me” and not worry about what someone else would think. All my life I was expected to be the best at whatever I did, was to keep my head under the radar, and stay afloat.

I have always felt I was under intense scrutiny because of the various very public positions I held in government and the corporate world.

Living under the microscope can and does make you at least think you might be paranoid now and then. Every move you make can and often is criticized. This can and often does make you feel “unloved” and unappreciated for who you are.

No don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t that my parents didn’t love me. My Dad certainly had problems showing that but my Mom – well, there was never a doubt about the fact she loved her son.

I strived to become independent quickly in my life to “escape” the scrutiny of my parents and my community and at 19 years old was married and settled into a routine of work and school at Murray State University.

Independence is a hard thing to wrestle with I have found in these past 59-years. All people whether we like it or not are at the best interdependent on each other for love, work, interaction, and conversation. Yet, no one could say that I have not strived to be independent.

I recall in a relationship that was very meaningful to me a young woman saying, “I will never depend on anyone but myself.” Although that would be the same attitude I have harbored all these years in my personal and professional life honed by “Leland’s Laws” 1) Trust no one 2) Assume nothing 3) Triple check everything – the reality is that as humans we need each other.

That brings me back to Tybee Island and the dog park.

Who would have thought that I, of all people, would have become a “dog park addict” and a "Tybee-ite” so quickly; well, perhaps the reality is that it wasn’t that quick – we have after all been coming here regularly 20 years now – but to admit that my life has been enriched by the various characters I have met here – many of whom have become dear friends – is quite the admission for an old curmudgeon like me.

My grandfather, whom I have idolized and probably romanticized more than he would care for, always said that you could judge a man’s (or woman’s) character by how they treated dogs, children and their elders. He would be proud of many of the men and women I have met and brought into my circle of friends through the dog park. Needless to say, not all but the vast majority of the folks that visit there meet or exceed the criteria of Papaw’s character test. And so it was today that Sue and I shared our reasons for loving this island and its many characters.

I am finally at “home” here in my life even if it is just inhabiting two bedrooms, one bath college-like apartment with two dogs and the wife.

It has been a very long time since I felt secure with my situation and myself, there are many reasons for that and yet I finally feel I have arrived.

It is the realization perhaps that security, comfort and the love of friends is an organic process that as it changes either matures and grows more comfortable and meaningful or left to its own design without our effort withers and dies.

Strange as it may seem, I always thought I was “born” into the wrong family.

Perhaps this feeling has fostered in my life the need to “build my own families” with my own “brothers and sisters and fathers and mothers” of my choice. As Kay recently pointed out to me, perhaps I am more comfortable and at ease with my “extended family” than my few remaining members of my birth family.

It has been over the years the many “Dads” and “Moms” and the many “brothers and sisters” that I have adopted and that even to this day I am in touch with – that have comforted me in my times of need, encouraged me in my times of despair, and loved me when I had trouble loving myself.

It is here on Tybee Island that my “adopted parents” – Jim and Ann – also “parents” of Shadow – comfort me, shelter me, inspire me and provide unconditional acceptance and love.

And so it is here at this island that friends (and their “children”) like Sue (Ace’s Mom), Glenn (Marley’s Papaw), Miss Vivian (Sister’s Mom), Miss Nancy (Rocky’s Mom), Tim and Allison (parents to Lucy), Kim (Cole’s Mom), Chris (Roxie's Dad) and our dear friends and landlords Vince and Junie (Tobe’s parents) reach out to us and welcome us back. It feels like I am coming home finally.

It is said that people long to be at home and that your home is whatever place you long to be.

“Home is where the heart is.”

And that my dear friends would be Tybee for me.

Love, peace and grace,

Dr. Darryl

Lt. Col. Ty Edwards - A Hero Amongst Heroes

Tybee Island, Ga. --- Many of the readers of this blog will recall that our family member L/C Ty Edwards, Marine Corps was wounded during an ambush while serving in Afghanistan and thankfully has been recovering remarkably well due to the commitment of his PT nurses, his lovely wife and family, and his parents. Kay, Penelope and I had the distinct privilege of visiting Ty while we were in Florida working earlier this year.

Recently Ty awarded a Bronze Star to a fellow Marine and was honored to also be awarded himself a Jefferson Award. Below you will find his television debut.

http://www.abcactionnews.com/mediacenter/local.aspx?videoId=15689@wfts.dayport.com&navCatId=105

We are very proud of Ty and all his men. And we want all the men and women who serve so valiantly and with such dedication to protect our country in this war on terror to remember the overwhelming majority of the American people support your efforts. We believe in the value of taking the war to the enemy and we send each of you our prayers daily and God's speed for a safe return to your home and family.

Oooray! Dr. D.

On Being Friends - Vivian - My Dancing Queen

From Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek on Lake Barkley --- Have you ever met someone and just knew from the outset they would be a friend?

Such was the case with our dear friend Vivian Ortiz at Tybee Island, Ga., our home away from home and a friend that we met a few years ago at the dog park.

Such wonderful friendships I believe have something to do with mystical connection, as if maybe you have known them before, or the level of trust and rapport is so solid at the outset you just know they are your friend.

Vivian is the “mother” to “Sister,” one of Max and Little Bit’s buddies at the dog park. Her previous best buddies, Jackson and Max, transitioned a couple of years ago. We got to meet them. I even got to photograph them and many of you have seen their photos on my personal web site www.ldarrylarmstrong.com

Dog lovers know other dog lovers --- and that maybe part of the fascination that develops close friendships but not always.

I have come to believe that we bring people into our lives that we need and that need us. People that share common values, histories, happiness and heartbreak. Although we may not share common politics, religions or food tastes – then again we may. However, there is no doubt in my mind that Vivian is one of those dear souls that I have reconnected with from sometime in the past. I am grateful for that.

More so I am grateful to know such a talented artist --- she is a dancer. Not just any dancer, rather a committed, talented and dedicated dancer.

Now for those of you that know me I don’t dance well at all. Perhaps, I at one time fantasized about being John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever but that was truly a fantasy. My wife can attest to the reality of my inability to lead probably because I have always been following ;-)

When Vivian told me of her love of dance I had no idea until I had the privilege of seeing for myself on the two following You Tubes.

I told Vivian that I truly wanted her to dance at my Memorial service to set the stage for the celebration of a life and the understanding that we go through this one only once.

Graceful, exciting, sensual and joyful --- that would describe our friend Vivian as she expresses herself through her marvelous talent. Enjoy.

Love, peace and grace, Dr. D

"Dancing Queen"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qc5m9BVEv9k&feature=related

From the Broadway Hit - "Chicago"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZ7cG0u0yyE

We Will Miss You Coach G

Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek on Lake Barkley --- When I was in the 7th grade at Caldwell County Junior High School in Princeton, Ken., now some 45 years ago a short, squat extremely Italian-looking fellow and his lovely wife showed up to begin what was to be a love affair with Princeton and high school athletics.

I won't bother you with all the athletic parts of the story of Coach Al Girodano, "Coach G" as he was fondly called by those who played for him, or not, because there are others who can do a much better job of that.

Nope, I want to share with you though a short story about a young man, maybe around 14 at the time, whose father was not at home and who looked high and low for father figures. Coach G, along with Principal Bill Brown, Teacher Riley Dennington, Editor Gid S. Pool, and Printmaster Lowell Hobby were a few of those "fathers" that "adopted" me when I needed it the most.

I never played any sports for Coach G. I was never a sports hero. I was not even very good at whatever sport I tried except maybe racquetball where I did now and then perform pretty well.

I was the classic "nerd" before being a "nerd" was cool.

I was the sports photographer for the local newspaper, the score-keeper for the Little and Lassie league teams. I was the "fringe" guy always on the edge of all the sports but never one to be coached by Coach G.

But there is one thing that even to this day some 45-years later I remember about Coach G that makes me smile and comforts me.

One day when I was at the ballpark all alone and feeling pretty down, bouncing a ball off the wall and catching it, Coach G came by and he asked me if I would like to drive his tractor and cut some grass.

What 14-year old that craved male attention from such a prestigious fellow as Coach G wouldn't?

I never knew if Coach G knew it or not but that day I felt like one of his "boys."

Coach G. helped me that day to feel needed and wanted. And to this day I have always been grateful for that. To him it was probably nothing much at all, and most likely he never even remembered it.

Not me. When I heard of his passing the other day as I was enroute to the airport to a long-standing business commitment I was greatly saddened because I had never told him how much that seemingly insignificant act of kindess meant to me.

I had seen the Coach at our high school class reunion in 2008. Now and then I saw his wife or daughters Jill and Joni here or there.

But I was always in awe of "The Coach" and never went out of my way to speak only when spoken to. But Coach G was as important to me as any young man or woman he ever coached in any sport.

That hot summer day in 1964 he gave me hope and purpose even if it was nothing more than "helping" him to mow the grass.

Strange the little "seemingly insignificant" things we remember about people isn't it?

However, let us never forget that sometimes it is not what we say or do to or for others but how we make them feel that ultimately counts.

Kay and I send our warmest thoughts and prayers to Mrs. G and Jill and Joni. We do know the heartache that comes with losing loved ones. Yet ...

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight." --- Kahlil Gibran

Love, peace and grace, Dr. D

Photo from the Times-Leader, Princeton, Ky

THANKS to you all

To my best friend ever - Mr. Stimper - I miss you every day ole man!

From Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek on Lake Barkley --- Many of you have stood by me in the happy and sad times, the lighter and darker times, and through the good and the bad and even ugly times. For that I thank you. And I encourage you to watch this video that says it all so well.

Stand By Me

Love, peace and grace, Dr. D

Meet Logan - A Young Man Wise Beyond His Years

From Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek - Lake Barkley --Many of you probably have already seen or heard this report about the 13-year old fellow named Logan that called into the local radio station and explained what "God had told him" - if you haven't I recommend you take a few minutes and watch this short clip. I am always moved by the wisdom that often come from those so young.

Love, peace and grace,

Dr. Darryl

We Will Miss You and I Will Always Regret Not Having the Opportunity

From Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek - Lake Barkley -- If the rumors I have just heard this evening are true - and they are still rumors but seem to be based in fact - one of my old high school friends and chums from the 60s is dead. The stories vary, however, it seems he may have taken his own life.

As someone who has struggled with depression all his life, I can attest to the horrible state of mind it can and does put you into and without relief what it can lead to. I have been to the point of having to lock away the gun from the bullets because I feared what I would do if they were easily accessible. I am thankful that most of those days are in the distant past and yet I am always alert to the old "Black Dog" as Sir Winston Churchill called the malady sneaking upon me.

Depression is one of the most insidious and meanness afflictions Man has ever had to deal with.

It is with much regret and a deep sadness that I have heard of this and had no idea that my friend could have needed help. I have not seen him in over 40-years but did hear about him now and then since we moved back to Kentucky.

I would have given anything to have sat him down and listened.

Sometimes my friends that is truly all we need. Good listeners are hard to find. Don't pass up the opportunity if it is presented to you.

The following story that came about in December 1996, hard to believe it was now 13-years ago, sums up some of my feelings.

Love, peace and grace to my friends' family and to all of you.

Dr. D.

We Will Miss You Billy Boy

Yesterday I attended the funeral of my first cousin William Chalmers Dorn Jr. Billy to almost

everyone.

Billy was thirty-seven-years-old and hadn't lost an ounce of baby fat since he was born. What he

had lost, nine months ago, was 85% of his skin in a freakish flash fire that happened when he was outside

burning some leaves. For the same amount of time it takes a human life to be born, the ghost that Billy had

become crept quietly toward the light.

First, for the longest time, in a coma in a burn unit in Paducah, Kentucky; then, for a much shorter

time, in the ironically named Bryan Dorn VA Hospital in Louisville. Finally, after coming out of his coma long

enough to say he hoped he hadn't caused his mother too much worry, The Captain told this former Coast

Guard sailor to "Stand down..." Last Sunday Billy died.

Billy is the oldest child and the only son of Chalmers and Jeanne Dorn. Chalmers is my mother's

brother. Chalmers has always intimidated me, at least until the last several years. Chalmers was an MP in

the military before joining the City Police Force. Chalmers is a big burly man who maintains the

steeliest eye contact I have ever seen and tends to twitch in an imperceptible way even when he is at "rest";

in short, he gives the impression of restrained violence.

In the late 60's, three things happened to Chalmers: Jeanne gave birth to twins that both died within

a day, his father, my grandfather, died, and he was thrown off a third story fire escape during a race riot and

landed on his back on a nail. After that, Chalmers was never the same man.

Jeanne is a part Indian school teacher who is the best cook I have ever known. She is, if there ever

was one, an earth mother. When she smiles, you see the sun coming up over the fields. When she

welcomes you into her home, you know she means it. When she moves her largish frame around the

kitchen, getting this or that dish of beans laced with fatback or plate of coconut cake ready for the table, you

know she is really thinking about you the whole time. When she breathes, Chalmers is glad to be alive.

The last time I saw Chalmers and Jeanne, which was years ago, they took me to a local stock car

race. Chalmers loves cars. He buys a new one every year. Because he used to be a cop, Chalmers enjoys

the largesse of his fellow police officers.

Nevertheless, on the way to the races, Jeanne said, "Chalmers, you're going too slow," and took

the wheel. After that, we spent more time in the median than we did in the road and passed several

patrolmen who simply waved at us before we slid into the dirt area behind the pits at the race track. I never

saw the race. I passed out from exhaustion at the race getting to the race. I dunno who won.

Jeanne and Chalmers' two other children, Beth and Jeannie Marie, are indescribably beautiful. Beth is

married to an almost stereotypical big hunk of a man who never seems to be unhappy from Georgia;

together, they have four children, one of whom, Lisa, at age thirteen, has her black belt and wants to be an

astrophysicist. Jeannie Marie, who is short like my grandmother, married a man who is roughly her height

and has one child. Jeannie Marie looks like Pocahontas.

Billy never married. He liked girls, he told my aunt, but he was too shy. After he left the Coast Guard, he

came back home to live with his parents and got a job as a security guard. His real job was to look after his

parents and his sisters.

Sometimes he and Chalmers farmed. Chalmers was once a big farmer, two thousand acres. Soy

beans mostly. Billy did most of the work. But mostly he lived with Chalmers and Jeanne.

Once, in the middle of winter, Jeannie Marie needed a typewriter ribbon to finish a paper she was

doing for a graphics design class she was taking at a local technical college. Billy drove her downtown in

his truck and along the way hit a sheet of ice that caused him to skid down a street and hit several cars in

the process. When the truck came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, Billy immediately got out of the truck

and called the police.

When the policeman arrived, he asked Billy, "Why didn't you just keep going?" Billy, irate, replied,

"They're someones' cars!"

The most moving part of the funeral for me was when they folded the American flag on Billy's

mahogany coffin and handed it to his mother. The man who folded it, who must have been burying people

before I was born, folded the flag with such great care I got goose bumps.

It must have taken him five minutes. Religiously he smoothed out every crease and made every

turn and then very very patiently waited for his young assistant to make the final tuck perfect before he

handed the field of stars to my aunt and whispered something to her that I couldn't hear. While he did this, I

had flashes of Americans landing against impossible odds at Normandy and Confederate soldiers going

over the top at Cemetery Ridge and Billy in the Coast Guard rescuing an eight-year-old on a catamaran that

his mother shouldn't have rented for him.

Billy was a big boy, although not as big as his father. He had a great smile and to the best of my

knowledge he never hurt anyone. In particular, he loved animals and children.

I never pushed Billy around when we were children because he giggled too much. Billy never got

married. He was too shy.

Rest in Peace, Billy Boy.

Rest in Peace.

10-7

December 4, 1996

"I'm Cured" - Kind of Sorta ....

From Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek - Lake Barkley -- Have you ever met a fellow and just knew from the outset you would be good friends? Such was the case when I met my buddy Matt Figert. It has been a while since I had a hunting, running, drinking and shooting buddy and certainly a while since I had a friend with as weird a sense of humor as I have.

My old pal Doug, as many of you will recall, got killed in a car accident a few years ago. One of the toughest eulogies I have ever delivered was at his services attended by law enforcement officers from across Tennessee and a most humbling experience to hear Amazing Grace played on the bag pipes followed by the lonely words that "Doug Bailey has gone 10-7." Doug was like a brother to me. He actually got me out of my shell from the loss of my dear old friend Bert Ballard and had me enjoying shooting and hanging out again.

When Doug died I kind of went back into the shell I am known to occupy from time to time in my life. I kept on "chopping wood and hauling water" but with little joy.

Then along came John - er I mean Matt.

A retired CPO and now a resident expert on an offshore oil rig, Matt and his wife Janette became fast friends. Matt liked good food and a variety of books, wine, beer, hard liquor, dogs and guns. He enjoyed deer hunting and breakfast at Miss Peggy's! Who was I to question the Universe? What more could you ask for in a good buddy?

So, when Matt sent me this cartoon it resonated.

This week I had a sonogram of one of those male body parts we don't speak of and having gone to a urologist now for four years I have come to appreciate the humiliation of stirrups and probes that women have long gone through.

The sonogram was fine. The blood tests are fine. The exam went as usual - it sucked. However, I have once again come through another year cancer free.

Am I "cured"? Well that is still to be determined but then I just couldn't resist sharing this cartoon with you as it so aptly sums up my feelings.

Kay and I will be off to work in Florida next week, I will be home for a day and then head to Iowa and Arizona. However, I will stay in touch as best I can.

Enjoy my friends. Simper Fi, De Oppresso Liber, God Bless America and yes Nancy, BHO and Harry those "Tea Parties" are for real and we are serious!

Love peace and grace,

Dr. D

Easter With The Family - A Favorite Time Of The Year For My Mother

From Tranquilla II on the Back of Eddy Creek - Lake Barkley -- Easter was always a special time of the year for my Mother. Being a good southern cook and loving blooming flowers of spring time, she always looked forward to laying out a big dinner spread and having all her family over to enjoy the day. For many years I bought her a corsage for the day and in later years would send her flowers. Easter was the new beginning of the new year for Mother. It was the resurrection of life in more ways than just the Christian view. Easter meant to her that it was time to start her gardening and tend her flowers. I have missed her more at Easter and Christmas than most other times because it was at these times she expressed her joy for life.

This year Kay and I were invited over to Marvin and Cathy's for Easter dinner with some of my Mother's remaining cousins. This is that celebration in picture and music. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed producing it.

Love, peace and grace,

Dr. Darryl