Monday, December 3, 2007

The Call of the Wild



Madison visits with Kay, Stimpy and Little Bit at the Tybee Island Dog Park, December 2007.

Tybee Island, Ga. --- Stimpy had a pretty restful night but he chased rabbits most of the evening. I suspect that he is hearing the “Call of the Wild” --- his original pack is recognizing his closeness.

His output today was minimal despite the fact he ate really well yesterday especially his treats. He did tree a squirrel on today’s walk but it was half-hearted and he is only acknowledging the cats with an icy stare and contempt.

He is still pretty frisky on the walks and especially when he is ready to return home. As always he has his own mind and decides his own path. Today, we cut out of the rest of the pack and returned about 20-minutes early. He is resting comfortably on his rug and raising an eyebrow now and then.

What Stimpy has taught me

When the student is ready the teacher will come

Have you ever wondered if God, whatever he or she is, has a sense of irony and humor and just might be dyslexic?

After all, when you spell Dog backwards it is a clear indication to me that these animals were made to reflect all those things that God and the Creator wanted to teach us.

Stimpy has taught me a great deal these past 14 years especially about how to talk out my problems, my hopes, my fears, my aspirations, my heartaches and my losses.

I have faced demons and memories long buried on many of my daily walks with him. I have talked through crap and feelings that I would never share with anyone else. I have faced fears long ago stuffed away for the “fear” they might show weakness. I have used him as my sounding board for difficult personal and professional times and situations. I have shared my loneliness and happiness with him.

And not one time did this beautiful creation of God ever judge me, criticize me, or “want to talk it out.” He just listened and showed compassion and unconditional love.

Unconditional love is the one trait that Man is incapable of and yet our dogs seem to be born with the gene. They are never at a loss to show it when we come home to them.

Stimpy has listened when no one else had the time.

I have shared with him the pain of losing a child, best friends and a Mother. I have told him of childhood horror and abuse and of adult angst. And I have shared my heart’s greatest wishes of love never fulfilled and dreams shattered.

Never once did he complain, explain, or criticize or even offer his opinion. He simply gave me those soulful and all knowing looks that conveyed love and compassion that only God’s dogs can do.

As a behavioral psychologist, I studied animal and human behavior and I also sought out and took numerous clinical and social psychology classes. I have always been fascinated with the behavioral aspects of people and animals.

Much like Stimpy, I like to sit and watch people, listen to them, analyze and digest all the sights and sounds of a situation.

To be good as a behaviorist experts argue you have to crawl inside the mind and live there to understand the emotions, motivations, and behaviors of a person.

That’s where I am living a lot these days --- inside myself.

Friends want to console me but there is no consoling that can be done.

I have to simply work through all the feelings about Stimpy and come out the other side.

At times like these it often feels like I am fighting my way through a thick veil of doubt and sadness. A state of being that most men I know would never own up to or admit. We are after all brought up to be the “protector, provider and the strong one” in the family that consoles everyone else. And yes, I do my best to do that for everyone else when they need it. However, the doctor can’t do it for myself.

Simply these days my emotions are raw and ragged, I hurt and ache deep from within --- my thinking is not clear, and my heart --- my heart simply hurts with the pain of a what I know will be at some point a pending loss of truly my best friend.

In the years past, I dealt with anger, grief and frustration through massive quantities of alcohol – Scotch was my preference and I would drink it like most people would drink Coke.

Stimpy weaned me from that abuse.

In the past I would shut down and not even talk to myself about my own problems.

Stimpy taught me that talking to at least him was a therapeutic experience.

I put up a lot of walls in the 70s, walls that I would let few people ever see over, and even fewer would I allow to crawl over and come inside to visit.

Stimpy showed me that he could walk through those walls as if they were not even there.

And today, as he rests on the couch with his enigmatic smile and loving eyes, I suspect he is still trying to teach me.

Until next time.
Dr. Darryl
L. Darryl Armstrong
www.ARMSTRONGandassociates.org

Sunday, December 2, 2007

Being thankful and grateful at Christmas – and a Stimpy update





The Armstrong Clan's 2007 Christmas Photo




Tybee Island, Ga. --- On June 1st, 1994 I started ARMSTRONG and Associates. Two years later Kay joined the business. We have been blessed ever since and for that we are very grateful and thankful.

How did I arrive at such a life changing decision?

To that point in my life I had worked since I was 13 years old.

I had been a:
Janitor
Stock boy
Reporter
Photographer of news, sports, weddings, babies, car wrecks, fires, dead bodies and autopsies
Baseball, football and basketball statistician
Door-to dooor bible salesman
Printer’s assistant
Dark room operator
A card-carrying boilermaker in a pipe production facility
An assistant to Joe Tom Erwin, Murray State University’s greatest Sports Information Director ever in my opinion
Deliverer of newspapers where I built a 50-newspaper route into a route of more than 900
Bus boy in a cafeteria

And then after I graduated from college a:

·Contract employee for one of those three letter agencies “serving” my country
·Manager for TVA and the Corps for 16-years

And finally I ended up at Oak Ridge National Laboratory where I spent four long years working for Martin Marietta Energy Systems and being bored and frustrated.

It was time for a life altering decision. I was unhappy and unfulfilled. I felt as if I had no identity having left TVA where I was an executive.

I stepped out of the “secure” world (an oxymoron) of working for someone else that June --- something I had done many years of my life and reminded myself that I had been a successful freelancer in college as a photographer, reporter and small business operator.

One of my commitments to myself at the time I started the business was that I would give back 10% of my time and my revenue to my community, my world, to those things in society I believed in and wanted to see prosper. We still do that although we have upped the percentage.

I remembered in December of 1994 that my Grandfather Gunther had always supported the Salvation Army and as a child encouraged everyone one of his grand kids to always give to the “bell ringer” staffing the kettles even if it was only a nickel.

So, it was that I volunteered that December to ring the bell at the Oak Ridge Mall.

The evening was very bitter and cold and so I dressed in my old Army field jacket, insulated underwear, gloves, a toboggan and scarf and yet I was still cold.

But ring the bell I did with great gusto and enjoyment for now I was returning what the Universe had so wonderfully provided --- and still does to this day. I finally felt free.

As I stood there that cold Wednesday night listening to Christmas carols I remembered the words of Tommy Miller, Kay’s Father and Jim Knipe, my adopted Dad at Tybee Island, both of whom had encouraged and inspired me and reassured me that I could be successful at whatever I chose. These were messages I had never before received from adults that I admired and respected as much as I did these two men.

I recalled all the times in my life that I had doubted myself, all the insecurities that were honed in me by living in a situation where “security” was always placed in others hands.

That led me to think about what was success and what was security?

And it dawned on me then as it does today as I write this that it is not about money, prestige, power, material goods, fine cars and expensive houses.

Success became pretty clear to me that evening as nickels and dimes began to appear from kids and adults of all ages, success was having the freedom to stand out on a cold night in December and “ring the bell” to encourage people to help someone less fortunate.

I could do this for the first time in my life and not be worried about my own needs because the Universe and hard work combined were creating success for me.

Success was about having friends that came to me in all shapes and sizes, genders and races, educational and income levels, and of many different religious and political persuasions.

Success was being able to spend quality time with your friends and not dreading going back to work.

Success was feeling good about your work, yourself and your family.

Success was not a thing --- duh --- it was a state of mind.

I saw many things that evening that reminded me of the interconnectedness of all of humanity and how all of us are successful in our on ways.

Take the East Tennessee family who rolled into the parking lot in a smoking log truck that looked like it was on its last legs. Literally toothless, dressed in pretty dirty and dingy work clothes, the Father marched his kids up to the kettle and each put in a dollar and thanked me. When it came his turn he pulled a wad of money from his overalls and peeled off a hundred dollar bill. He smiled a toothless grin and thanked me for standing out in the cold and said, “They helped me when I needed it the most, now it’s my turn to help them out.”

Or, the minority chap dressed in the sagging pants and gang colors and draped in “bling” who walked up and dropped in his hundred dollars and told me “not to worry they were watching out for me.”

Each one had achieved success and now they were sharing it.

I realized that night that only in America could a kid like me with parents who had minimal education, low paying jobs, and who lived on the wrong side of town and the “tracks” grow up to be as successful as anyone.

I realized that it was my parents who instilled in me a work ethic that would sustain me for my life and how I would always be grateful for that.

In some way it was my parents that helped me develop my love of reading and learning.

Sadly, I suspect that some of that instilled behavior came from my escape to quieter parts of the house when they were in their fighting modes and raising their voices to one another. For me a book offered another world where life was calm and peaceful and no one raised their voices or said unkind things. It still does to this day.

And although my wife wonders why I always have the TV or radio playing when I am at work or just around the house, I suspect the psychologist in me would admit it is about “drowning out” the voices I still hear in my head that are critical, unkind and harsh.

I can’t hear very well any more out of one ear; too much shooting of guns in my earlier years without using hearing protection. Even now I can’t stand to be in a room where there is chaos, loud voices and noises, and competition to speak and be heard.

Perhaps this is another way my parents helped me be successful because one of the things I seemingly do well is to help groups of people chill out, calm down and talk to one another instead of at one another.

I really don’t like conflict yet most of my career has been based on helping people deal with it and to develop relationships with people so that when conflict arises we can talk it through to a mutually satisfactory ending instead of going to court and the media to get attention.

I realized that cold December evening that in one way or another every one of us views success differently and yet we are all capable of achieving our own success.

And this December as we sit at Tybee Island, we will again give back some of our success for surely "Secret Santa” will make a visit to a neighbor.

Update on Mr. Stimper

Stimpy had a good day yesterday and is having a pretty good day today (Sunday). I did have to give him some pain meds around 2 a.m. this morning and he did take three pain pills yesterday. He is doing Number 2 yet you can tell he has to strain. However, he is as sweet and independent as always. He certainly had his share of treats yesterday and is eating well.

Thanks again to all of you who are praying for him and us.

Until next time.
Dr. Darryl
L. Darryl Armstrong
www.ARMSTRONGandAssociates.org

Friday, November 30, 2007

Stimpy - Update




Stimpy enjoys the sun at Tybee Island as Little Bit provides guard services.




Thanks to all of you who have contacted me about Stimpy and for your prayers.

Stimpy is resting very comfortably today. I did have to give him a med during the night as he became quite restless.

The biopsy should be back within 7-10 days so we can assess the situation. I am sure surgery will be required because of the location of the tumor and the impact it has on his ability to go the bathroom. We are fortunate to be in Savannah. There is a surgeon here that is well respected and regarded. If this should be cancerous, we have access to a great oncologist in Jacksonville, Fla., which is about two hours from us.

I am encouraged by his demeanor. Although he is laying around a lot, he went for a long walk with the pack this morning and even barked at a cat or two. He is leaving the chasing to Max and Little Bit though.

Your continued prayers are appreciated.

Until next time.

Dr. Darryl
L. Darryl Armstrong
www.ARMSTRONGandassoiates.org

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Stimpy's Back Home




Stimpy sporting his shaved leg and at rest on his rug at Tybee Island.


Tybee Island., Ga. --- I broke down and went with Kay to pick up Stimpy from having his biopsy. I am glad that I did. The folks at the Greater Savannah Animal Hospital could not have been nicer or more courteous and customer focused.

Stimper is home now. He came through the biopsy just fine. He has some pain meds, antibiotics and stool softeners. He seems a little anxious but pretty much back to being Stimpy.

The biopsy will be back in 7-10 days, hopefully sooner. Then we will make some decisions on the next step.

My emotions are under better control now that I know he was well cared for. He is dozing right now.

Now "Dad" can get back to work!

Until next time.

Dr. Darryl
L. Darryl Armstrong
www.ARMSTRONGandassociates.org

Stimpy - Health issues

Tybee Island, GA --- My heart aches so much today.

Most of you know if you have read this blog in the past, that Stimpy, my wolf/husky mix and I are tightly bonded. And most of you know that I am a pragmatic and realize as my dear friend Bert told me many years ago “All dogs will die and go to heaven.”

I have helped many of my friends through the passing of their beloved pets. Now, I fear I will sooner than I wish find myself faced with the same set of circumstances.

We are at Tybee Island, Ga. and for that I am thankful. They have good vets and vet techs here next door in Savannah.

Here is the story.

You see two days ago in a routine bath, something that Stimpy really doesn’t much care for; Kay found two lumps on his rear end. We had noticed in the past few days he was straining to go to the bathroom. I encouraged her to take him to the vet. Taking Stimpy to the vet is something I have done only once when we lived in Oak Ridge. Vets are like all doctors to me I don’t like them and I don’t like to be around them nor does Stimpy.

Thankfully Kay has always assumed this responsibility. I also confess I can’t stand needles, the smell of alcohol, and all the other stuff that comes with the medical world. I also can’t stand to see Stimpy wince when he has to give blood since I don’t give blood so well myself.

The vet is taking a biopsy this morning following several hours of tests and stuff yesterday. If this mass they have found is a polyp, which would be the best of circumstances, then we will simply have it removed quickly. If it is cancerous, although we are assured they have an excellent surgeon on staff, all sorts of other considerations have to be taken into account such as his general health, quality of life after the surgery, and his own needs.

I am most of the time a realist. When it came to Stimpy I even acknowledged to myself earlier this year that his time, just like mine, was running out. That’s why I brought Max into the pack hoping beyond hope that somehow his insertion into the family would make this easier on me. It hasn’t. It can’t. And it’s not his fault. In fact, Little Bit and Max both know and are responding to my feelings trying to make me more comfortable and feel their love. For that I am thankful.

However, it does not take away from me the horrible gut wrenching pain and sadness that I feel for my beloved Stimpy and his current condition.

Kay has returned this morning to the vet’s office to have the biopsy done. She asked if I wanted to go. I chose not to. I told her I didn’t even want to know the results from today. I simply wanted to know the biopsy results.

Like most guys I am trying my best to be “brave for him” and for Kay but it is not working very well. Thankfully Kay is the stronger of the two of us when it comes to this situation.

Sadly, it seems that this holiday season has brought all my grief that I have stored up for decades back to me to reflect upon. I am finally acknowledging and trying to deal with the feelings of loss about Bert, Donna, Sue, Weldon, Mom and Dad, Doug and just last week Mr. Charlie and now I fear soon we will have to add my beloved Stimpy.

I am going to stop writing now. This has been therapeutic for me.

I have two other “boys” here that want a walk and I need time away from this for a while. But now you know what’s going on.

Your prayers for Stimpy would be appreciated. I will keep everyone posted on how things are progressing as my ability to sit and write about all this evolves over the next few days.

Until next time.

Dr. Darryl
L. Darryl Armstrong
Www.ARMSTRONGandAssociates.org

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

“Donut Doug”

Tybee Island, GA. --- Every now and then in your life you come across someone that you just know instanteously is going to be a friend.

Someone who you realize shares instinctively 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 briefly met Doug the first time in a horrible snow storm one Christmas when he delivered his sister-in-law Marilyn King for me to pick up at a convenience market near Clarksville 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 or two. 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 two years ago this December parted this world.

Doug liked to drive fast. So do I, although I confess at 57 I have slowed down a lot. One rainy December evening enroute to work he failed to negotiate a rain slicked curve on I-440 and Doug joined many of our heroes that had gone before.

I was asked and honored to deliver Doug's eulogy. This is what I spoke about when I delivered his eulogy. Perhaps some of these words will resonate with you this Christmas season and you will truly find love, peace and grace as yoiu reflect on these thoughts.

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 philsopher 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 Attilla 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 to 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
L. Darryl Armstrong
www.ARMSTRONGandassociates.org

On remembering Christmases of the past

Tybee Island, Ga. --- A blog can be very therapeutic. So it is with this entry.

I believe there are “givers and takers” in this world. My Mother was a “giver”.

Thanksgiving and Christmas were my Mother’s two favorite times of the year.

My earliest remembrances of both actually come from the days when we lived in a “brick house” on Ratliff Street. Now the significance of a brick house will mean very little to many of you but to me it was like we lived in a “mansion” and somehow even at 6-years old I knew we had “arrived”. I actually had my own room that had windows on two sides. I liked that room so much that I have replicated it in our cabin on Lake Barkley. It was in this brick house that I first remember my Mother's love of the holidays.

The brick house was to be short-lived, however, as my Father sank into a deep depression and began worrying about whether he could afford it; and whether he would be laid off from his job; and other personal issues that I now realize were more important things in his life. Eventually we would move back to the family home place and I would accept it as my home and be saddened when it was sold years later.

Although the holidays were special for me and Mom, I don’t believe that my Dad was a particularly happy man and although my Mother tried to be happy and content I suspect she was less so than she ever let on to anyone. This was complicated by the fact she was a “giver”.

Maybe, if the truth were known, it was my arrival on the scene on September 2, 1950 that created such disruption and angst between my parents. I always “felt” that I was not a planned child and that some how I came between my parents and their own happiness.

Now make no mistake about this, this was never said to me and my Mother always seemingly actually cherished me, however, my Dad seemed to just tolerate me. Whereas my Mom was a warm and engaging person like all of her family my Dad was cold and distant like all of his family. The two as a couple simply did not seem to “fit”.

Years later I would understand that my Dad married my Mother to “get away” from what I am sure was a bad family environment and yes, I did the same thing when I got married at 19-years old in 1969 to my first wife and engaged in a 10-year “practice” marriage.

Perhaps the “split” between my Mother and Dad was due to the fact that at 6-months old I was rushed to Jennie Stuart Hospital on the verge of death due to a intestinal blockage. My life was saved literally by a courageous Dr. Gaither who performed the first out of body reassembling of internal organs ever done on a child that young. I suspect at that point my Mother literally devoted her life to me and my Dad got put to the side. I quite suspect that my Dad began to create his own alternate reality (and life) at that time and we were not part of it.

It was only after their passing that I actually found photographs of them smiling and seemingly enjoying one another’s company. All those photos were before I came along.

Many of the photos we have of ourselves as a family seem to show some pretty dour and serious people including myself.

Yet, my Mother, God rest her soul, always went out of her way to make Thanksgiving and Christmas special for us. This was aided by the fact she liked to give of herself during the holidays.

In my earliest childhood recollections, I can remember lavish dinners with turkey and my Mother’s sage and chicken dressing; jam cakes and lemon pies; turnip greens and fried chicken; and a wide variety of homegrown canned or frozen vegetables. Mother would work for hours on end preparing food enough for her family and Dad’s family, who for some reason never came and ate together.

Mother loved to decorate. Her tree was always filled with ornaments of new and old. I still have many of my childhood ornaments including a cherished plastic snowman and Santa Claus.

And Mother loved her “traditional” holiday television. She was the first to always watch It’s a Wonderful Life, White Christmas, The Charlie Brown Christmas, and when he was living The Elvis Presley specials.

She liked her homemade boiled custard and would only buy eggnog for me. She liked wrapping presents and placing them under the tree and she most assuredly enjoyed watching kids open their presents.

I asked my Mother one time what her most cherished Christmas gift ever was. And only after prodding did she reveal that it was a goldfish that her Dad bought her one Christmas.

Sadly, the little fellow didn’t make it through the night. It seems he literally froze in his bowl on the hearth at their cabin. Yet, when she would tell that story it was not through a veil of sadness yet sheer excitement of having a Father who cared enough to try and make her Christmas special.

I believe that Christmas in my Mother’s mind was special because it meant that all her family would eventually come to visit and through such visits she could give of herself.

She was never at a loss to cook and entertain at Thanksgiving or Christmas. She was at her best in those days always hustling and bustling trying to ensure that everyone had enough to eat and drink.

That is what I fondly recall of my Mother’s love of Christmas. It is through such recollections and reflections that I am able to begin finally the grieving process not just for my Mother but also for all those dear souls that have passed over in the past few years. I have always been one to delay my grieving sometimes for decades!

Life is surely made of memories. Some are good. Some are bad. Some are happy. Some are sad. It is our memories that make our lives special and unique.

May this Christmas season create special memories for each of you.

Until next time.



Dr. Darryl

L. Darryl Armstrong

www.ARMSTRONGandAssociates.org