Elbow Room

Someone in my Ladies Who Wear Sequins & Polyester & Sing Barbershop Chorus tripped on the sidewalk and broke her elbow this week. She'll be having outpatient surgery tomorrow to fix it. So we'll probably show up wearing palazzos and rhinestone earrings to sing in the hospital hallways and cheer her up. Meanwhile, what a perfect time to talk about MY elbow.
          When I was thirteen, I played basketball. Aggressively. So aggressively, in fact, that once, when I reached in to steal a ball, I lost my balance and landed with a thud on the floor. Lying flat on my back, wondering what I had done to myself, I looked up to see the ref's forefinger about two inches from my nose. I had spent most of the game complaining about everything he did, so it was with great relish that he pointed at me and yelled, "Foul on Mrs. Linklater!" [That wasn't my name yet, being thirteen and unmarried, but it'll do for this story.]
          The foul was irrelevant actually, once I took inventory of my body and realized I had done something bad to my elbow. I looked up at the kid, who was only a year ahead of me in school, and said, "I think I broke my elbow." 
          For the next half hour, as we waited for the paramedics, or whatever passed for paramedics in those days, I sat on the basketball court and kept asking for someone to go to my locker and get my Twinkles. Funny how your mind works when your body goes into shock. Nothing else mattered but those Twinkies. Which may have led to my lifelong liplock on those preservative-laden little confections. Part of me was planning ahead, thinking how good they would taste in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Another part of me wanted to make sure that nobody else got them, since I don't think we had locks on our gym lockers back then. Once my mother arrived, the Twinkies were safely secured in her purse, and I was transported to the hospital for x-rays to see what I'd done. 
          I had dislocated the radius of my left elbow. Nothing was broken, but the main bone that connects your hand to your elbow was out of place. As I was being wheeled into the operating room to put my parts back where they belonged, my mom reminded me that she'd have my Twinkies waiting when I was finished. 
          My arm spent six weeks in a cast, bent at a right angle. When they removed the cast, there was a forest of long, dark hair growing wherever the cast had been. Tres chic. As if that wasn't bad enough, I couldn't straighten my arm. In fact, it really hurt when I tried. That's when I was told there would be weeks of physical therapy to slowly make my arm straight again. "We don't force elbows." 
          Meanwhile, only three weeks after I discombobulated my own elbow, a boy at my school dislocated his elbow also playing basketball, just like I did. But he only had to wear a cast for three weeks. When they took his off, he had complete mobility. Unlike me. 
          I began to wonder where my doc had gone to medical school. In fact, had he gone to medical school?
          Instinctively, I knew something was still wrong with my elbow. 
          However, it was years before I realized what a complete hash that orthopod had made of my arm. I never could straighten it out completely. Still can't. And it took a long time for the discomfort to go away when I threw a ball, played tennis, or did anything left-handed. Did I mention I am left-handed? 
          About ten years ago, for no particular reason, I looked at both of my elbows in the mirror and discovered something. My left arm has an extra elbow. That pointy joint which sticks out when you bend your arm so your hand can touch your shoulder? I have two of them on one arm. Here's a weird picture to show you what I mean. They look more like lady parts, but, trust me, those are my elbows. I took the picture with my Photo Booth camera, that's why the picture is a mirror image. So my left elbow is on the LEFT, not the right. 

My left elbow, with its two points, is on the LEFT

See the two points? One above and one below? I don't think the doctor actually put the radius back where it belonged. Let me rephrase that -- that POS really messed things up. 

          No wonder I thought something was wrong when the cast came off. 

          At least I got to have my Twinkies.  

          

Remember the Name, Team Rubicon

January, 13, 2010 -- the day after Haiti was upended by an earthquake -- Jake Wood and William McNulty founded Team Rubicon. From eight veterans, docs, and first responders, they now command over 7000 volunteers. To celebrate their remarkable three years at the helm of this truly heroic organization, I am replaying my response to a University of Wisconsin student newspaper editorial that complained when Jake was asked to be their commencement speaker.

December 14, 2011

Jake Wood is president of Team Rubicon disaster relief -- www.teamrubiconusa.org.  I have done civilian volunteer work for the organization.

He was recently asked to give the commencement speech to the University of Wisconsin's winter graduates. A local college newspaper bitched and moaned about not having a world-class speaker. Here's the link to the editorial. The following is my comment to the paper:

By what measure does one determine who qualifies as a top tier commencement speaker? Someone famous? Someone rich? Someone funny? Clearly someone who has created a revolutionary method for saving thousands more lives after a natural disaster doesn’t meet your high standards.

With a sense of entitlement so typical of college students, you threw a foot-stomping tantrum worthy of a pre-schooler to show your disappointment in Jake Wood, “Graduates from this world-class institution deserve a world-class speaker to see them off and a voice in what can be one of the most significant days of their lives.” 

Really, scout’s honor? You wouldn’t rather be entertained by a famous comedian from Saturday Night Live, followed by a world-class drunk with your friends afterward? You’re above that?

Does this mean you think there’s a better way to spend your twenties besides getting rich, getting hammered, and getting laid?

Then Jake Wood should be your speaker.

Do you honestly believe that greatness has nothing to do with money or cars, but everything to do with integrity and courage?

Then Jake Wood should be your speaker.

Can you imagine getting off your butt and doing something significant with your life besides Occupy Something?

Then Jake Wood should be your speaker. 

I reviewed two lists of all time top commencement speakers/speeches listed on Google. Only one speech made both lists. That’s more than Winston Churchill and JFK can say. The guy who showed up twice was Steve Jobs, who spoke at Stanford in 2005. How ironic that a college drop out was the only speaker to make both top tens. 

But there’s a greater irony. Actor Bradley Whitford made the all time top ten for the world-class speech he gave to the class of 2006 at. . .wait for it. . .the University of Wisconsin. I guarantee he wouldn’t have made your top ten world-class speaker list. And yet, there he was in Madison. And he managed to say a couple of things so worthwhile, he’s on the list of all time greats.

“Take action. Every story you’ve ever connected with, every leader you’ve ever admired, every puny little thing that you’ve ever accomplished is the result of taking action. You have a choice. You can either be a passive victim of circumstance or you can be the active hero of your own life. Action is the antidote to apathy. . .You will inevitably make mistakes. . .At the end of your days, you will be judged by your gallop. Not by your stumble.”

If you think that Bradley Whitford is on the money, then Jake Wood should be your speaker. 

After graduation in 2005, Jake was one of the few graduates who didn’t think the world owed him a living. Instead he took action. First he joined the Marines – a direct result of 9-11. Before reporting for duty, Katrina hit Louisiana. Jake acted again. He borrowed his father’s pick up and drove to New Orleans to help out. During his four years in the Marines he served two tours, one in Iraq and another in Afghanistan. Unlike you, in the four years after his graduation he survived more danger, saw more death and lost more friends than you will likely experience in your lifetime.

And, unlike you and all the other top commencement speakers, except for Churchill and JFK, Jake is also a decorated combat vet. After his honorable discharge in October of 2009 he could have coasted through the rest of his life, getting his MBA and making a boatload of money. Three months later in January of 2010, the earthquake hit Haiti.  A day later Jake took action again and posted a message on his facebook page – “I’m going to Haiti. Who’s in?” The next day Team Rubicon was formed. In two weeks the group of veterans and medical personnel had raised over $250,000 in money and supplies using social media and helped over 3000 victims in Haiti – before the Red Cross and other humanitarian groups could get their acts together. And a paradigm shift in disaster relief was born – the rapid deployment of medical aid, using military skills and training to save lives during disasters. In the year and eleven months since Team Rubicon formed, the group has been on 12 missions to 9 countries on four continents.

Jake didn’t sit around waiting for the world to come to him. He acted.

Jake is only 28 years old. Not one of the top commencement speakers I read about had achieved what he has achieved by the time they were 28. He has not only performed acts of heroism on the battlefield but as the leader of Team Rubicon, he has made a heroic stand to provide 2.2 million Iraq and Afghanistan veterans with a meaningful transition from the military into civilian life -- using their skills and training to revolutionize disaster relief.

If you want your commencement day speaker to be someone who has made an actual contribution to the world from the day he graduated, whose life can be an inspiration to anyone with the cojones to put their money where their mouth is, then no one else but Jake Wood should be your speaker. 

Jake leading Team Rubicon in Joplin, MO -- helping with clean up after the tornadoes

Jake in Afghanistan as a scout/sniper

Mrs. Linklater's New Year's Resolutions

The best part about making New Year's resolutions is knowing that nobody keeps them, so in the end, there's really no pressure. In fact, we're all pretty much doomed to failure, according to this annoying British study. With that in mind, it won't matter if I reach for the stars or just settle for some low hanging fruit, because, who cares? Heck, expectations are so low that just typing these life-changing ideas ought to be considered a success.

For 2013 --

1. I will replace my regular acts of retribution with a random act of kindness every day  every so often. No more writing "Hope you don't fark like you park" in lipstick on the windshield of a car that's not properly placed between the lines. 

2. I will write the bestselling book people have been asking me to write for years. I'm thinking it should be an original, compelling memoir about my life as a baronness. The opening line will be, "I had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills." 

3. I will start a foundation to provide polar fleece to the world. And lint rollers to keep the hair off, especially in the armpit area.

4. I will stop complaining about the high price of baked Cheetos.    

5. I will figure out how to speak in low, modulated, mellifluous tones, with few, if any swear words to punctuate my conversation. Okay, everything but the swear words.  

6. I will re-hab my bathroom and replace my kitchen cabinets all by myself with a little help from Home Depot and my Craftsman tools. And paint the living room. And the garage. After I plant a new garden. Boy, I crack myself up. 

7. I will become a vegetarian. As soon as I can give up meat, fish and poultry.

8. I will get a SmartPhone. When you people stop making fun of me for not having one. 

 There is NOTHING wrong with this phone. Nothing.

9. I will become a role model for my children, so when they grow up they can feel proud of the way I raised them. . .oh wait, too late.

10. I will no longer eat food more than two weeks past its expiration date. Same with men. 

As I look back on these inspiring thoughts, I suddenly realize these are all doable. But lest I see a triumph of hope and change on the horizon, let me remind myself that failure is far more interesting to write about.