Your Weekly Whoomp

Got a note from Russ, my oldest, who, rightfully, pointed out that the inside of a can of red paint was white, or possibly, silver, depending on the manufacturer.
I read that and said, “??”, and looked back at the whoomp.
I had, in fact, asked, “What color is the inside of a can of red paint, before you open the can?” And then, I proceeded to talk about the color of the paint. He picked up on what my unintentional question really was and described the inside of the container, after it was opened, of course. He didn’t concede that without light, the inside of the can was probably black–or maybe he decided that it was unnecessary.
Also, I made a statement I’m not sure I completely understand, last week.
I was talking about my temporary reassignment, and pointed out that it wasn’t rocket science.
Thinking about that statement, I got to thinking, “What’s complicated about rocket science?” If you fill a balloon with air and let it go, you understand the basic premise of rocketry, but then you have to consider stabilizing it, directing it, computing a viable payload, and continuously building better and better fuels-and don’t forget safety concerns.
????
Guess I answered my own question, huh?
Well, lookee here! A truly short whoomp!

I found out recently that I’m about to become a grandfather again! My fourth grandchild, second grandson, is due around Thanksgiving! Maybe I’d better tell my sons what’s causing it, quick!
Yunno, this past week, a reporter wrote an article about the “Blackfeet Indians”! I read the article, but the content of the article was lost in the number of times he used the term throughout the article. Those of us who didn’t drop out of grade school know that there are no Blackfeet Indians. There is one Blackfoot Indian and there are many Blackfoot Indians. Blackfoot is the name of the tribe.
Except for the special detail I was on this last week, there’s not really not too much to whoomp about! It seems like every day, I learned some way to do my temporary job better or to make someone else’s job easier. The job had nothing to do with rocket science. I won’t bore you with the details, but we had to get vehicles of all kinds ready for shipment to Kuwait!
Anyway, let’s get on to the subject line!
Do you know what color a can of red paint is, before you open the can? The proper (according to some authorities) answer is, “Black, because there is no light to reflect.”
But someone else may say, “Don’t be ridiculous! Someone put red pigment into the paint, the can says ‘red’, and when you open the can, you don’t have to wait for even a short period of time to wait for the paint to turn red! Of course it’s red inside the can!”
But as I said in the subject line, this is not about the can of paint.
I cite the paint to show that this is a point about which you can argue. That is to say that the point is arguable. One might even say, “Arguably, the paint inside an unopened can of red paint is black!
Pet peeve!
People make statements like, “Arguably, the sun lights our days!” There’s nothing arguable about it! They should say, “inarguably” in its place!
Well, I got that off my chest! Time to put the soapbox away!

Someone asked me about the 1/2 CPR. I guess it would be kinda cruel to let any new readers wait a week for the next whoomp.
The 1/2 CPR was on my youngest son, Keith, and I consider it 1/2 because, I, frankly didn’t know what I was doing, and was probably as scared as I’ve ever been.
My ex and I stopped at a small restaurant near the Mass/Rhode Island border one night, on the way home from visiting my parents.
We were talking casually over our meals when Karen said, “Dan, look at Keith!”
I looked at him and he was blue, obviously not breathing. At the point in my life, if someone had mentioned CPR, I would have said, “Who? You’re not talking about LBJ, RMN etc.” I have to admit I had taking a mouth to mouth resuscitation course in Boy Scouts, but that training evaporated. This was my SON!
I, frankly, didn’t know what do, but this was no time to be thinking about taking any kind of life saving course, or wishing I knew what to do! I had to do something fast, even if it was wrong!
I pulled him out of his high chair, laid him on his stomach in my left hand, and hit his back as hard as I dared with the little tyke. This was no time for half measures or gentle patting. I hit him hard, ready to do it again, if I had to. If something didn’t work soon, he was gonna die! I imagined holding him by his feet, upside down, and shaking him, either until he started breathing or someone with some authority stopped me.!
Nothing farther was necessary! A piece of hot dog (I think) flew out of his mouth and onto the floor, and I could feel him breathing. I put him back in his high chair to finish his meal, and he started crying, one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard! I think he thought he did something wrong!
I call it my 1/2 case of CPR because it didn’t involve much of what is taught in CPR class, and I didn’t have any knowledge of heart massage, if it was necessary.
Well, there you have it. Write soon, huh?

Sorry about the silence. There’s really been nothing to whoomp about.
Yeah, I lead a boring life. The last exciting thing that happened to me was getting hit by a Ford EXP. Might hafta do that again so I’ll have something exciting to whoomp about. …Just kidding.
The accident DID effect, noticeably, the way I drive, also reflected in my new motto. Ready to hear my new motto? Here it is…STOPPING ON RED IS MANDATORY. GOING ON GREEN IS OPTIONAL, NO MATTER WHAT THE JERK DRIVING THE CAR BEHIND YOU THINKS.
Yeah, I sit at the intersection until I know that all crossing traffic is going to stop. i.e. “Take nothing for granite!”
Anyway, Susan and I are enrolled in another CPR course. Believe it or not, the last one was 2 two years ago. I consider it mandatory training, and I think she feels the same way. I have trouble imagining the helpless feeling some people have felt, watching someone die, and not knowing what to do, wishing they had the training, hoping someone trained will come along in time.
Yeah, there’s more to it. Once I have the training, I feel it’s mandatory to use it if I am in a position to. CPR training tells you that you have a choice, that whether you use the training is completely up to you. I have to “dis” that part of the instruction. I feel that knowing what to do in an emergency situation requires me to use it. Argue with me if you want. It’s a feeling, maybe not logical.
But there’s more to it than that! CPR is emotionally exhausting. I don’t know if I can express the feeling, but, when you’re performing CPR, you are trying to save someone’s life, constantly aware that success or failure is completely in your hands, and that your success or failure may determine the patient’s future, or lack of one.
And, as you already know, I’ve had to use it 2 1/2 times.
Anyway, the class is the 23rd of this month (That’s a Friday.)
Lately, I’ve been thinking about pain, and my attitude toward it. I don’t like it and avoid it at all cost, but it’s my best friend, as in, if it hurts, don’t do it.
Russ, my oldest son, learned that early.
He was about 2 years old, standing on a stool, watching Dad make pancakes. I kept backing him away from the stove, with the admonition, “Get away from the frying pan, you’ll burn your nose!” Suddenly, the pancakes needed turning over, right away, and I backed Russ away from the frying pan one more time and turned around to get a spatula. As soon as my back was turned, Russ screamed! In a matter of minutes he had a blister on the tip of his nose! That was the first and only time I ever saw a cute blister. Yeah, it extended the length of his nose about 1/4 of an inch! Healed quickly, though, but, to this day, he has never gotten his nose that close to a frying pan again, hot or cold, unless, of course, his wife has gotten a frying pan that close to his nose. Lesson learned.
That’s about it for this time. Write soon, huh?