An Act of Rat-dom Kindness

A quick trip to Wal-mart for doggy chews and people shampoo resulted in a Christmas rodent that Amy and I will be laughing about for years to come.

Cagney the Christmas Rat

Just past the greeter and next to the checkout counters stood a Secret Santa tree covered with yellow tags. Handwritten on the tag at eye level was “Woman age 50 (wants) live pet rat; a female.”

“I’m pretty sure I know who that is,” Amy said.

A month ago, a woman living in a group home for the mildly mentally handicapped got her annual mammogram in the outpatient clinic where Amy is one of two Mammography techs. An hour or two before her scheduled appointment, Amy’s patient took her pet rat to the vet because it appeared to be sick. The diagnosis was the rat would need to be euthanized. At the time Amy was administering the exam, this woman’s sole family member was taking its first run on the rodent wheel of heaven.

Physically, the woman was fine. Emotionally, she was heart-broken.

“I’m sure this woman sat for hours petting that animal as it slept on her lap,” Amy said.

In other words, it was a “lap rat.”

We figured we could get a female rat at one of the three pet stores on the way home, but where would we keep it without either one of our cats getting to it first? After all, a gift of a dead rat to replace the pet rat who is also dead would not be very “Santa-like.” We also needed to buy a rat habitat.

In other words, we needed a “rat-itat.”

As I write this – six days before Christmas – little Cagney (temporarily named for Jimmy Cagney of “You dirty rat” fame) is sleeping peacefully under the bedding of her cage. Either tomorrow or the next day, we will hand Cagney over to the people running the Secret Santa drive, who will deliver Cagney - the Christmas Rat - to her real owner.

“She will be so happy,” Amy said of her patient friend, “and Cagney is one lucky rat.”

This is one impromptu gift we’ll never forget.

‘A-mayo-zing’ way to cook a turkey

My church - St. Luke's Episcopal in Prescott, Arizona - annually serves a home-cooked turkey dinner with all the trimmings on Christmas day. It's called Don't Spend Christmas Alone and is open to anyone. And it's free!
Word got out that I had worked at TV and radio stations and newspapers for 20 years, so I was asked to be (roped in to be?) Publicity Chairman.
The minister's wife manages the kitchen at Tim's Toyota Center sports arena in Prescott Valley. She arranged for the turkeys to be prepared and cooked by the kitchen's executive chefs. The following is an article I sent to the local newspaper to promote Don't Spend Christmas Alone. For those cooking this Christmas, maybe you'll want to try this.

Condiment makes Christmas turkeys golden

By Scott W.L. Daravanis

St. Luke’s Episcopal Church

Sous-chef Robert Lucero

For the past 30 years, St. Luke’s Episcopal Church members have baked and served beautiful golden brown turkeys during the annual Don’t Spend Christmas Alone dinner. This year, the centerpiece item will be more beautiful and more golden than ever.

The key ingredient is a simple condiment found in most everyone’s refrigerator.

The chefs at Tim’s Toyota Center have been preparing 100 donated turkeys since mid-November. Centerplate manages and operates the kitchen at Tim’s.

“We’re averaging 16 turkeys a day,” Executive Chef Michael A. Niemela said. “We’re carving turkeys while we’re cooking others.”

The process begins with a good, brisk rubdown with Montreal steak seasoning and mayonnaise.

“We sprinkle the seasoning over the entire turkey and rub it in,” Sous-chef Robert Lucero said. “We then rub on mayonnaise, followed by another sprinkle of seasoning and put it in the oven.”

“The mayonnaise holds in the moisture and gives the turkey this beautiful brown color,” Niemela added.

In the large convection ovens at Tim’s Toyota Center, the 20 to 24 pound turkeys cook for three hours. The chefs and other kitchen staff carve the turkeys and separate the white meat from the dark. Cooking stock made from the turkey carcass is poured over the meat, then flash frozen. Niemela said on Christmas Eve, he will pull the pans out of the freezer to thaw, and bright and early on Christmas morning he will re-heat the turkey, place them in rolling heat lockers and truck them to St. Luke’s Episcopal Church on Ruger Road just off Highway 89 north of the Prescott Airport.

Lucero and assistant Roberto Lopez

“In the past, the members of the church cooked the turkeys in their own kitchens with their own spices and recipes,” Niemela said. “By doing them all here in a controlled environment, we can serve the most consistent looking turkeys in the cleanest and safest way possible.”

Don’t Spend Christmas Alone organizers are expecting nearly 1,000 meals will be served at the church or delivered to the homebound throughout the Prescott area. Quite a change from the first Don’t Spend Christmas Alone dinner in 1980.

“I recall we had 45 to 50 people that first year and maybe 65 the second,” parishioner Barbara Harber said. “We served mainly the homeless, but we always invited those who are alone. They feel just as bad on Christmas day as the homeless.”

From 11 a.m. to 2 p.m., hundreds of volunteers from St. Luke’s Episcopal and other churches and organizations will serve complete turkey dinners with all the trimmings, various flavors of pie and homemade fudge for dessert, and coffee and other drinks. Holsom Bread Company, once again, will supply the rolls.

And the dinner is free.

St. Luke’s members and personnel from the Prescott Fire Department will deliver meals to the homebound, and shuttle busses between the church and the Prescott Albertson’s will transport those without their own transportation.

For more information, to schedule a meal delivery or to volunteer, call St. Luke’s Episcopal Church at 778-4499.

Attaining the Unattainable

I was among 60 people who created MATForce, a volunteer coalition to reduce drug and alcohol abuse in Yavapai County, Arizona. After formulating a mission statement, the group developed a three-year action plan. Since youth are MATForce’s primary focus, I stressed the need to reemphasize the importance of preserving the family unit.

The numbers are scary.

• The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services states, "Fatherless children are at a dramatically greater risk of drug and alcohol abuse." 
• Children growing up in single-parent households are at a significantly increased risk for drug abuse as teenagers.
• Children who live apart from their fathers are 4.3 times more likely to smoke cigarettes as teenagers than children growing up with their fathers in the home.

These are only three of a long list of equally dire statistics.

Earlier this year – MATForce’s fourth year – the members of the Executive Committee and most of the original 60 met to review the coalition’s progress and draft new three-year and five-year plans. Preservation of the Family Unit was the only item in the original plan not addressed and is not in any form in the two future plans.

“Tightening up divorce laws is an area where we won’t succeed; it’s unattainable,” more than one Executive Committee member told me.

Man soaring like a bird was once “unattainable.” We now jet through the sky all around the world without thinking twice about it.

A human being standing on the moon was once “unattainable.” Between 1969 and 1972, 12 men left their footprints on Earth’s natural satellite.

Having a man-made object leave our solar system was once “unattainable.” In 1990, Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 flew past the orbits of Neptune and Pluto.

"Unattainable" is not impossible, just difficult. How we look at that difficulty determines how successful we will be.

Thomas Alva Edison reportedly had 10,000 failures before finding that one combination that resulted in the electric light bulb.

“I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work,” Edison said. “Many of life’s failures are men who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.”

As we approach 1-1-11, are you going to be one of the millions who will fail, or are you going to be the one who will attain the unattainable?

The Man Box

I’ve had people tell me, “What you just said was so wise; so enlightening.”

I’ve had people tell me, “I learned so much from that article you wrote. Your writing just speaks to my heart.”

Nice compliments. I politely and humbly thank them, and say something like “I’m glad I was able to help you in some way.” What I do not tell them is, “I’m not as smart as you think.”

Below is a link to a presentation from a man who is heads and shoulders, leaps and bounds, infinitely wiser than I. My friends – and especially my male friends – please dedicate about 30 minutes to watch this clip more than once.

Special thanks to one of my “dad” friends, Danny Grubb, proprietor of GladDads.com.

http://www.ted.com/talks/tony_porter_a_call_to_men.html

Two words said often – and not often enough

President George Washington dedicated a day in November as a “Day of Thanksgiving to God” in remembrance of the Pilgrims’ special meal following their first successful harvest in 1621. The Pilgrims invited the neighboring Native Americans to the banquet as a thank you for their help with planting and harvesting. I think the Pilgrims really were thanking the Indians for not carving the Pilgrims themselves for dinner.

What seriously is going through my mind on this Thanksgiving is how grateful I am to God. I thank Him for the blessings He has bestowed on me – the ones I am aware of and especially all the blessings I have no clue He’s given me.

Each night, I thank Him for Nikolas; my parents, aunts, uncles, cousins; my ancestors now residing in our Lord’s heavenly kingdom; the people who at one time were very special to me but are no longer with me daily, along with their children, parents and families; the men and women who have thought of me, helped me, hugged me, made me laugh, and prayed for me along the way, and still do; the people who have given their lives or are risking their lives so I can live peacefully and comfortably; and the critters who welcome me at the door, purr in my ear while I’m sleeping and leave their fur on my clothes.

I especially thank the Lord for the woman making antler horns behind my head in the picture above. That is my significant-other, my partner, my roommate, my “main squeeze”, my soul mate and my best friend Amy Morales.

In 2005 when situations made me question what I should do and where I should be, the Lord told me very plainly “Scott, I need you in Arizona.” I felt He needed me to minister to someone or lead someone who was lost to Him. I didn’t know who or how.

Two years later, a woman in my Bible study group asked me to join her for lunch after church. Amy and I go to a church that is 99.975 percent populated by people age 70 and above. Amy and I are St. Luke’s Episcopal Church’s Generation X.

Amy’s husband, Joe, died suddenly a little more than a week before I got the job offer that pulled to me out of Indiana. “Ah ha! That’s why the Lord wants me in Arizona – to be a friend to Amy as she enters a new chapter in her life,” I thought.

Not so fast, my friend!

My professional relationships with the people I worked with and for severely broke down in 2008 and we unceremoniously parted ways in 2009. Between July 2005 and February 2009, my nine-year marriage and my 20-year career came to shattering ends.

And Amy was there to catch me.

The Lord is my eternal savior. The woman making fun behind me in that picture is my savior on Earth. What Amy has done for me physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually I will never be able to repay.

I take more from her than I give. I do not deserve her, and yet she loves me.

Thank You, Lord.

Thank You, Sweet.

The reason for that bruise on my forehead

Remember those V8 television commercials?

Sometimes it was a female giving an open-handed slap to the forehead of her dim-witted male companion, or it was the mentally dense male slapping himself, followed by the slogan “You could have had a V8!”

A couple of years ago, I had my own “V8 moment.”

When Nikolas was in Arizona in 2008, my mother - aka Yia Yia (pronounced YEI yah), the Greek word for Grandmother - took him to a candle shop so he could make his own candle. In reality, all Nikolas did was choose from a group of preformed candles and dip his selection into pots of colored wax. So Nikolas picked candles for each of his grandmothers, one for his mother and one for his father.

For me, Nikolas chose a pair of penguins which he dipped the bottom half in blue wax and the top half in red wax. When the colors dried, they looked more deep purple and light pink.

When Nikolas gave me my gift, I excitedly thanked him, kissed and hugged him, and told him “I love it!” In all honesty, my first thought was, “Oh boy! Pink and purple penguins. Whoopee.”

After Nikolas went back to Indiana, I put that candle on a shelf in a back room and closed the door. Two months later, I went back to that room to look for something else I was keeping out of sight and it dawned on me what that candle represented.

The smaller penguin is standing at the side and slightly under the left wing of the larger penguin. The smaller penguin has its head up and a facial expression that shows comfort and safety.

The larger penguin, as I said, has its left wing on the back of the smaller penguin. Its head is tilted slightly down and toward the smaller penguin in a manner showing love and protection.

Why didn’t I see what Nikolas was telling me through this particular candle? I quickly figured out that the purple and pink was supposed to be blue and red – our favorite colors respectively. What I didn’t see was a little boy in his most special place – under the wing of his father.

I pray that my “V8-like” slap to my forehead will open my eyes to all the subtle ways Nikolas tells me that I am special to him.

Daddy’s Home is not Mommy’s Home

“What’s my destiny, Mama?”

Forrest Gump knew the answer because it was in the script. Only the Lord knows how my script ends, but I will strive to have future generations say “Despite the obstacles, he was the Best Dad Ever.”

My son, Nikolas, lives in central Indiana and me in northern Arizona. I moved here in July 2005 to take a new job. The plan between Nick’s mom and me – discussed and formulated before I accepted the job offer – was for me to get stabilized and then have Nick and his mom join me. Two weeks after I got here, Nick’s mom destroyed that plan.

“I’ve changed my mind. We’re not moving. If this family is more important than your job, then you’ll move back to Indiana and find something to do here.”

I had just spent four months scouring central Indiana for a job and was rejected. I couldn’t get Target to hire me when it had a huge sign on the front door that said “Now Hiring.” I didn’t see the logic in giving up a management-level position in the field I was educated and experienced in for a cashier’s job at the corner convenience store.

Nick now has two homes – his primary home in Indiana and his vacation home in Arizona. I will not let Nick forget he has a father who loves him. I call him every two or three days; I send him notes and occasional gifts; and I never, ever, EVER miss my visitation time.

It’s no secret that I ache over this arrangement, but I refuse to let it defeat me. It could be worse.