Since it’s a lot easier for me to talk than type these days, I’m hoping to put together a podcast tonight. See you then!

Sorry I’ve been MIA lately. The strain of my aunt’s passing took a lot more out of me than I thought it would, and trying to avoid typing so as to not further aggravate my right hand along with the wrist is also taking its toll.

A couple of posts from last week on my company’s blog is all I have to offer at the moment.

Always Take The Weather With You

 
I lived for a period of time in the Midwest. Central Indiana, to be precise. Given how I’ve spent most of my days in various locations scattered around the San Francisco Bay Area, this makes me one of the few people able to order a double non-fat low-whip high-cream medium-sugar easy-foam triple-shot cappulattespresso and say “ay-yup” when the beleaguered barista reads back my order. But I digress.

In Indiana, as is the case in much of the Midwest, the easiest job imaginable is that of weather forecaster. You can throw pretty much anything you want to out there and stand an excellent chance of being right at some time during the day. Rain, snow, wind, warm, still, hot, cold, humid, bone dry. And every possible variation thereof. When it’s said if you don’t like the weather wait five minutes it’s only the slightest exaggeration. I have vivid memories of being outside on a bright sunny day without a cloud in the sky… and immediately heading home because I could feel the atmospheric pressure change indicating a thunderstorm was soon be letting loose. Fifteen minutes later it’d be storming.

On a far more serious note, last Friday, a horrific earthquake struck Chile. Centered offshore, the 8.8 magnitude quake wreaked havoc. As is gradually being revealed, not an insignificant amount of damage was due to the tsunami created by the tremblor.

The Hollywood image of a tsunami being some kind of incredibly high wave devouring ships as it crashes toward shore is inaccurate. It’s entirely possible for a ship to have a tsunami pass underneath it without those on board even noticing. The danger comes when the wave, more accurately described as a surge of water, reaches shallow water. Between the speed at which the water is traveling and the sheer amount of water pushing forward, the potential for disaster is great.

The ability to accurately predict a tsunami is limited. Buoys can measure a surge, but only to a point. As one gets closer to shore it becomes easier to tell what’s going on, but you’re also dealing with a very short time span in which to warn people of the coming peril.

Back to the Chilean earthquake. Given that tsunami activity had already taken place, it was logical to believe more could happen. And not just in Chile. The tsunami which struck several countries in the Indian Ocean the day after Christmas 2004 produced measurable effects as far away as Vancouver. Everyone in the possible path of one resulting from the Chilean quake was immediately put on high alert.

And nothing happened.

While there was inconvenience suffered by residents of Hawaii, who after having been informed for several hours to evacuate the beach and low-lying areas were told don’t sweat it, this was a very small price to pay compared to what would have been extracted had a tsunami struck. Certainly it’d be nice to have more accurate information if one was or wasn’t going to strike. It’d also be nice to know when earthquakes are going to occur. But we don’t.

All we can do is be prepared. Living our lives in constant terror of nature’s forces coming after us is a useless waste of energy. That said, skipping through life oblivious and unprepared is stupidity on steroids. We owe it to ourselves and each other to, as best we can, prepare for what might happen.

Part of which is making sure we have the right insurance.

Which won’t help you be any more accurate forecasting the weather, but at least you’ll be ready.

Customer Service And A Cartoon Dog

 
This coming Sunday is the Oscars, which depending on your taste is either must-see TV or everything that’s wrong with modern entertainment. Setting that argument aside, one of the movies up for a few awards warrants mention here for reasons entirely separate from artistic and/or entertainment value. Namely, the Pixar film Up.

In June of last year, the movie was in theaters only. A ten year old girl in southern California had seen the ads and wanted to see the movie. Nothing unusual there.

There was a twist, though.

A most tragic twist.

The young girl was dying of cancer. In all likelihood she wouldn’t live long enough to see the movie. Even if she did, she was in no condition to go to the theater.

A family friend tried a desperation maneuver. She started calling Pixar. Nothing but automated phone systems. Despite this, she somehow got through to a person and explained the young girl’s plight.

The next day, a Pixar employee who refuses to be identified came to the girl’s house. He brought stuffed toys from the movie, plus a poster.

And a DVD of the movie.

The young girl was by this time too sick to open her eyes. So she listened to the movie while her mother described the action, telling her about the adventures of Carl Fredricksen, Russell and Dug.

Seven hours after the movie ended, the young girl died, her final wish fulfilled.

Customer service is seldom so dramatic or heartrending. However, it is a vital lesson for all of us in a service industry such as insurance to remember. There are people at the other end of that claim or contract. People entrusting us with their business. People counting on us to fulfill our end of the agreement.

Far, far more often that that’s what we do.

P.S. Ending this on a bright note, for those of you who haven’t seen the movie, meet Dug:

Been spending what time I have been spending online the past few days working on Backstretch Motorsports.

I also seem to be sleeping a lot. Which is either how I’m dealing with it all or a sign I should be getting more rest period.

My aunt’s visitation is today and the funeral is tomorrow.

Not much more to say, is there.

Other than it’s about time a certain polar bear made an appearance, don’t you think?

Been quite topsy-turvy the past few days. My aunt passed away Thursday morning, and I’m covering the NASCAR races this weekend for OnPitRow.com.

Speaking of such, hope you don’t mind my posting a column I wrote for the site this morning.

Danica Patrick vs. The Beast With The Least

It’s said, not altogether unwisely, that a major blogging no-no in terms of attracting and maintaining an audience is talking about yourself. In which case I apologize in advance to Charlie as I may be endangering this site’s readership. (I’d apologize to Steve as well, but he’s an idiot.) I’ll try to keep the personal angle to a minimum; however, it’s necessary to put the subsequent racing talk into context.

Over at my personal blog I have a saying: “The obligation to follow Christ doesn’t end where your job or political affiliation begin.” If you believe that Jesus is Who He says He is, that’s nothing you have the option of turning on and off in terms of how you conduct your professional matters. His command states you interact with people in a specific fashion? That’s what you do regardless of who, what, when, where, why or how. ‘Nuff said.

Now, take that to yesterday at Auto Club Speedway.

In a previous life, parts of which are discussed in my book, I did enough interviews and feature articles and the like in the music world to be relatively comfortable in the position I found myself today, namely covering this weekend’s races. Yes, there were a few moments of quiet disbelief I was physically where I was, such as when Jeff Gordon sat a few feet away from me while waiting for his turn in the media center. But for the most part, it was business in the same manner I’ve done business before.

The music industry — reference the earlier previous life comment — has much in common with NASCAR in terms of how things operate. The drivers are the artists; crew chiefs are record producers, crew members are the backup band, owners are record label heads, publicists are… well, publicists.

And journalists are journalists.

So what is the role of the journalist?

As the Rock used to say, know your role. You have an obligation to be accurate and truthful in your reporting. This noted, you are the eyes and ears of the fan. Your job is bringing knowledge of, and insight into, the people whose individual and collective effort creates the sport. For the fans. Always, for the fans.

How best to do this?

For me, there is only one way.

Be friendly toward and respectful of the people about whom I am writing or speaking. Remember they’re not there for me. I’m there for them. I’m there because of them. My job is to get their stories and convey them to the fans in an entertaining, informative fashion. Period.

And remember my obligation.

Take this to yesterday. There I was in the media center, filled with a minimum of three times more members of the press than had been present a few hours earlier for Dale Earnhardt Jr., all there for the purpose of listening to and questioning one of his sister’s employees at JR Motorsports. Namely, Mrs. Paul Hospenthal.

You’ve possibly heard of her by her maiden name of Danica Patrick.

Danica entered the room with a purposeful stride, looking much as she often looks when the camera is on and one suspects when it’s not: serious, intense to the point of being tightly wound. There was an additional dose of frustration in her demeanor, someone trying to maintain complete control of herself while dealing with what she would soon detail. Namely, the frustration of fighting both a car that had mustered no better than thirty-seventh fastest in the first practice session and twenty-seventh fastest in the one concluded just a few minutes earlier. Adding to this was the pressure that comes with doing something with which one was unfamiliar yet was now something needing to be done at a very high level. Namely, learning how a stock car should feel at a big flatter track like Auto Club, then communicating this to her crew chief so he could call for the appropriate adjustments. As Patrick stated more than once, it was nothing like the Indy car she was used to at such a place. To use a southern California reference, it was the auto racing equivalent of learning how to ski by starting at the top of the Matterhorn. And, like the Disneyland version of same, swiftly learning you didn’t have a whole lot of say in how the roller coaster ride operated. Patrick said she knew there would be a tremendous learning curve in her effort to become an accomplished NASCAR driver. The day had reinforced this knowledge big time.

That was the story. Simple; fairly cut and dried. There were appropriate ancillary questions to flesh out different aspects that could be asked: the difference in feel between low and high lines on the track, things like that. But really, not much else to add, or worthy of inclusion. A driver familiar with one kind of car in the process of learning another. Happens all the time. No big.

Ah, but no.

Because this is Danica Patrick.

As I sat in the press conference listening to a few racing questions, many more pop culture-ish ones, and observing Patrick doing her best to remain composed despite her evident aggravation at restating things she’s gone over a multitude of times before, I thought about professional responsibility and personal obligation. Professional responsibility was reporting the story in a straightforward manner. No opinion column disguised as a news article, no fluff ‘n puff in hopes of riding the publicity train that is Danica’s every move. Personal obligation was wishing there was a way to chat with her for a few minutes, not as driver and journalist but as two people. Toss out a few puns and jokes to lighten the mood; remind her that frustration is a mandatory part of learning any new task, especially when your visibility is as high as it gets and no-life detractors are yapping about your lack of accomplishment even as they themselves have never done anything in life. Encouragement. Kindness. Treating someone the way you yourself wish to be treated.

Obligation.

Certainly it can be argued Danica has, by usage of her looks to gain attention, brought at least part of this on herself. Which is where again the obligation comes into play. There is a mandated overview of people inherent in the obligation. Namely, we’re all people. We all have good points and bad. We all mess up. We’re all equally deserving of being loved and respected nonetheless. This does not change due to celebrity status.

Ever.

And so, here’s wishing Danica well, hoping she’ll have cause to relax and smile soon.

An final observation.

As I was leaving the track yesterday, being a fan I went through the souvenir trailers to buy a few things — hat here, t-shirt there. At Danica’s trailer, which at times seemed to have a bigger crowd than all the other trailers combined, I noticed a man with his young daughter. Probably seven or eight. She marched Dad over to the side of the trailer, which features a photo of Danica with determined look and equally determined pose, hand on hip. The girl copied the pose exactly, right down to the look, with Dad snapping photos left and right. Like he had any choice in the matter.

It’s for her I write.

Hope I never forget that.

Sorry; ’tis the best I’ve got at the moment. Also at my NASCAR blog. Go figure, huh.

Hey, It’s Tuesday, So Let’s Get That Update From Last Weekend Written

I was waiting for the Bondo in the pothole to finish curing first.

Anyway, quite the weekend to start off the season, what say? First there was the truck race… which became second due to the weather. Instead, first there was the Nationwide race, the only thing missing from which by ESPN’s perspective was Brett Farve as the grand marshal. All Danica, all the time.

It’s more than a little amusing to watch assorted members of the MSM pontificate about the overkill of Danica coverage even as they incessantly feed the machine. If said people were serious about such matters as promoting equal opportunity for female drivers, they’d be standing on street corners beating the drum 24/7 for Chrissy Wallace to get full-time sponsorship and a quality ride. Nothing against Rick Ware Racing; it’s terrific they’re giving Chrissy Wallace an opportunity. But we’re not talking championship caliber team come Nationwide time here.

Back to Chrissy, who last Saturday suffered a very premature exit from the race courtesy of John Menard Jr. over-indulging his son’s passion for auto racing by refusing to end his gifting of same to the child at the slot car level. It’s easy, all too easy, to hitch a ride on whichever bandwagon is currently barreling through pop culture town. Looking to be one of the Kool Kidz while doing so? Portray yourself as a vulture sneering at the soon to be carcass when its fifteen minute life span expires. In fact, you’re far more a leech than a vulture, clinging to every minute of the ride while it’s alive so as to gain maximum exposure basking in the glow of a short-lived candle belonging to someone else. Nevertheless, there is always a plethora of passengers on this carriage pulled by the dog and pony show. A far rarer animal is the one striving to shine the spotlight on those one believes truly deserve attention. Why? In the final breakdown, it’ll all about the ratings baby. Journalistic integrity? Meh. It’s implied by the byline, isn’t it? Uh… isn’t it?

That all said, Danica Patrick’s first turn at Nationwide warrants some mention from the racing aspect. She did all right before getting caught up in a wreck not of her own doing, driving cautiously and neither forcing the issue nor getting in anyone’s way. As to the race itself… what, Tony Stewart won the February Daytona Nationwide race? Wow. That never happens…

Back to Mrs. Hospenthal for a moment. A far more interesting test in her fledgling NASCAR career will be this coming weekend at Auto Club. How will she adapt to a flatter track where picking the correct line and getting the car right is of maximum importance? We’ll see come this Saturday. Regrettably, we won’t see Chrissy Wallace; she’s not scheduled for this race. Instead we’ll have the legendary Kenny Hendrick attempting to make the show. Thrillsville.

And for the record…

Chrissy Wallace is cute.

Next up was the truck race, which swiftly gave the impression most all participants had spent the twenty-four hour delay forgetting how to drive. Among those who had their evening plans unwillingly modified by others perfecting the art of brain fade was Jennifer Jo Cobb, who after a few years on the occasional guest appearance list is devoting 2010 to becoming a regular member of the NASCAR family. As a driver, not merely photo op.

Thankfully, Jennifer Jo Cobb can drive.

And then there was the Daytona 500.

To say the breaks in action courtesy of the track breaking were unfortunate is putting it as mildly as possible. Yes, drivers love worn-out racing surfaces. However, fans have the right to see a race in its entirety sans the broadcast crew interviewing everyone up to Digger in order to kill time. Certain delays are unavoidable, such as weather. That duly noted, this is the second straight year NASCAR has been unable to present its premiere and premier race either in its entirety or without interest and momentum-killing pauses. Not good.

Fortunately, the racing itself was sublime. No Big One, a slew of lead changes, and a last lap featuring Jamie McMurray hanging on to the lead for dear life as Dale Earnhardt Jr. finally showed the fire he’s been missing for the past year plus by blasting his way around and sometimes seemingly through fellow competitors en route to a second place finish he immediately labeled unsatisfactory as it wasn’t first. Good thing yesterday was a holiday for many, as the Junior Nation needed time to recuperate.

On to California.

I seem to have fallen into a bit of a first for me. Namely, an industrial strength writing funk. Odd.

The temptation is to blame my hand problems, but they haven’t flared up much the past few days. No, this is a good old-fashioned case of inability to focus on any given subject long enough for it to be committed to print.

Not that ideas aren’t piling up faster than Democrats deciding to not seek re-election this year. Perhaps that’s the problem: too many ideas.

Or perhaps I’m burned out on writing and need to give it a rest for a while.

I don’t know.

Hopefully I’ll get this figured out and sorted out soon so I can get back to it.

Or at least leave a “gone fishin’” sign on this modest little waystation on the information superhighway’s front door.

I’ve been having ever-increasing difficulty with my right hand when typing, mostly in the form of brief yet intense sharp shooting pains in different fingers or sometimes the hand itself. Sounds suspiciously like carpal tunnel. Anyway, it’s severely limited my ability to type much the past couple of days, hence the lack of posts here. Fun I am having not.

I’m doing what I should have been doing all along and wearing a wrist brace whenever in front of a keyboard. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad at work today as it had been, but I’m still taking it as easy as I can.

Prayer, please. Thanks.