April 27, 2004
And then there were four ...
I had to take Kesey to the vet today to have him put down. He's been going downhill for the past several months. He kept falling down and often wasn't able to get to his feet. His hips were in horrible shape. When he stopped eating, I knew it was time.
But that didn't make it any easier.
The folks at the vet must have thought I was nuts. This 6-4, 260 pound guy bawling his eyes out over a poor old collie. They were very kind, offering to send me the bill rather than make me stand at the front counter with tears in my eyes as they ran my credit card. He went peacefully, and before I took him in, I drove him around for about 45 minutes with all the windows down. He even managed to get to his feet for a short while, sticking his long narrow muzzle out the window and reveling in the cool April morning.
Kesey was a great dog. We only had him for two years. I brought him home after someone dumped him up at Melton Hill Park. But they were two good years. He fit in well with the rest of the pack and filled Bubba's role as the elder male. I'll miss the old guy.
Goodbye, old man. And thanks for being a loyal, devoted friend.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:47 PM | Comments (4)
April 25, 2004
The epistolary novel goes 21st century
This is very interesting. Haven't had a chance to really look it over yet, but it mirrors something I was toying with attempting for the Homestead novel I'm kicking around.
I've signed up to be a beta tester. Hope the pick me ...
And speaking of things literary, heard an NPR interview with Pulitzer winner Franz Wright yesterday. His father is James Wright, one of my favorite poets. The selections they read from Franz's "Walking to Martha's Vineyard" were really powerful. So much so that I jumped over to Powell's and ordered a copy.
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:58 PM | Comments (1)
April 22, 2004
Suffering the Benz at 2,000 feet
When I arrived in Fort Myers, a friend picked me up at the airport in a four-seat Cessna, which we flew down to Naples. I've flown in a lot of planes, but never one that small. We took off on the same runway the 763 landed on 20 minutes earlier. It felt really small ...
The flight was a blast, though. Flying at 2,000 feet is a much different experience. The view of the Everglades was incredible, including the black plume of a fire that was burning somewhere out there. We flew over the Naples airport and out over Marco Island. When we got over the water, he turned the controls over to me. I was hesitant at first, but after receiving a quick explanation of what to do, I took the wheel. What an incredible feeling. It made me start thinking about flying lessons. But it's intimidating. There's a lot to remember, and the radio traffic was totally confusing. I had a tough time keeping track of what was going on and spotting other planes as they announced themselves in the area. I guesss all that comes with practice. Needless to say, I didn't get us killed ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:15 PM | Comments (2)
April 20, 2004
Suffering the Benz at 30,000 feet
So I'm heading to Naples on a business trip and get the first class upgrade. Very cool. Even if it is a bulkhead seat. The flight attendant comes up to me after the plane is in the air, and motions to the guy nodding off next to me.
"Are you traveling together," she asks.
No. Though I think the question a bit odd.
"His name is Benz and your name is Benz. I thought maybe you were together."
She doesn't believe me when I inisist I'm not kidding and I've never met the guy next to me.
He wakes to confirm this.
Turns out I'm sitting next to Stephen Benz from Cincinnati. Small world. No relation.
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:41 AM | Comments (6)
A day at church
Xena, Ozzy and I headed to the park extra early on Sunday. It was still dark, but as soon as we drove into the park I knew something was up.
It was infested with boy scouts from Oak Ridge.
But they were all still sleeping soundly. Xena and Ozzy ran up to sniff a bundle of blankets and a sleeping bag, but it didn't even stir.
We set off on a path that was thick with honeysuckle and the occasional stumbumbling bees lumbering to life in the first light of day, trying to shake off a treacly hangover. It made me think of Yeats' incredible lines in The Lake Isle of Innisfree:
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
I remember once trying to explain this walk that is my church. The two youngsters who were dogging my steps as surely as Xena and Ozzy that day looked perplexed. Church to them involved walls and a roof, preachers and a congregation. But after a moment, they smiled and understood.
Thoreau would be proud.
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:35 AM | Comments (3)
April 14, 2004
Flying the friendly skies
I fly. A lot. Almost 300,000 miles on Delta alone. But yesterday was a first. I was trying to fly from Knoxville to Memphis for a friend's funeral, and my flight was delayed. For a long time. Nothing unusual there. I've probably spent as many hours waiting in airports as I've spent in the air.
After a 3 1/2 hour wait, the fine folks at Northwest Airlines called all Memphis passengers. The plane was repaired and ready to go.
I was the only person who stepped forward.
Everyone else had gotten out through Detroit, Northwestern's other hub
So I got to fly alone on a Canadair 50-seat jet with "Princess," the flight attendant. Very cool. Better than first class, really. Princess and I talked and drank coffee all the way to Memphis and we had the entire plane to ourselves. Though it was a little odd when she had to go through her "safety/here's how to buckle a seatbelt" thing for only one passenger.
Just to show that karma kicks and caresses you, the flight home was a nightmare with a screaming kid in the row behind me and a Buffy in the seat next to me. Thank god for my iPod.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:06 PM | Comments (7)
April 11, 2004
Tribute to a mentor
Jimmy Denley was the first person to find out Lara and I were getting married.
It was 1989, and Lara and I fell in love while working on the copy desk at the Birmingham Post-Herald. We'd been friends for a few years and spent a lot of time denying that we were more than just friends. When the friendship shifted to something much deeper and more permanent, we decided to get married. That was it. No dating. No "courtship." We just decided it was right and that we'd get married.
But we were worried about our work situation. We were pretty certain the Post-Herald wouldn't tolerate a married couple this way. There were nepotism rules and all that. We'd need to talk to the editor.
So we walked timidly into Jimmy's office, announced that we were getting married and I offered to resign.
"No need for that," Jimmy said in his Mississippi drawl. "As long as one of you doesn't report to the other, we can make it work."
Jimmy saw the value we brought to the table and was willing to risk having a married couple on his copy desk. It was one of his gifts. He could recognize a good thing when he saw it. FIfteen years later, Lara and I still work for the company that owns the Post-Herald, and I like to think the company is better for it. I know we are.
Our careers took us from Birmingham to Albuquerque, Denver, Austin and finally, Knoxville, where Jimmy entered my life again. This time, he was moving from Abilene to Memphis to take over the website. And I was worried. Jimmy was "old school," a great, detail-oriented third-generation print journalist. In our dot.com fueled arrogance, we didn't believe a print dinosaur possibly could "get" the Internet.
But Jimmy knew a great thing when he saw it. He turned our Memphis site around, made it profitable and helped it produce great journalism. He truly "got" new media, but more importantly, he never lost sight of the journalistic values and ethics from his print days.
On many occasions, I'd call Jimmy to bounce things off him. He was a voice of calm and sanity is swirling online chaos, and I could count on him for perspective. His counsel was invaluable, and his can-do attitude was refreshing.
Jimmy died yesterday of leukemia. But he lives on as we transform our business into a new medium. Thanks for everything you did for us, Jimmy. We'll never forget you.
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:02 AM | Comments (1)
April 9, 2004
Fate's Right Hand
I finally got around to downloading Fate's Right Hand, Rodney Crowell's latest CD. Really good stuff. Like John Hiatt, Crowell is doing his best stuff as he gets older. His songwriting is phenomenal. Saw him at the Opry last fall and he was impressive. One of the highlights of the show.
Posted by Bob Benz at 11:27 AM | Comments (2)
April 6, 2004
The Soviet Union's Pompeii
I stumbled across this site while looking for other things. It details a young woman's motorcycle travels through "the dead zone" around Chernobyl. Incredible. Simply incredible. The images are so stark and her commentary is so matter-of-fact that it borders on surreal. It gave me the chills.
To quote Elena: "Perhaps future archeologists will compare this Ghost Town to Pompeii. The Soviet era is forever preserved here - in the deadly radiation that will last for many centuries."
Posted by Bob Benz at 4:27 PM | Comments (2)
April 3, 2004
Haiku dojo ...
Long time no post. Too much life clouding my creativity, I guess.
This one is worth the wait. Glenbot has launched the Haiku Dojo. Very cool. My favorite so far:
my random thoughts knock
like pebbles on your windshield
tossed by a dump truck
Go Glenbot ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:44 PM | Comments (2)