The Hoppy Mailman

Masters

   Spring arrives "officially" at different times for different people. For some it's Easter, while for others, it's when that first flower pops up in the garden. School age kids celebrate when they get their "Spring break", while some folks exalt in the fact that they can get the boat in the lake now that it's not frozen over. Other members of the general public link sporting events with spring, such as the start of Major League Baseball or the Daytona 500 automobile race. For me it's golf and The Masters.

   I just love this golf course. Every inch of it is meticulously manicured to perfection. The azaleas are in bloom and the Georgia pines are looming around every corner. The greens are lightning fast and it's not unusual to see someone putt the ball right off of it and into a hazard. Tiger did just that last year. Of course he also holed out an incredible chip shpt on 16 that the world will see time and time again. It is a religion with some people. Why else would they name holes 11, 12, and 13 Amen Corner?

   This club just drips with tradition. Designed by Bobby Jones, the first tourney was held at Augusta in 1934. I grew up idolizing Arnold Palmer and wasn't really happy when this young upshot from Ohio won in 1963. Jack Nicklaus would win 5 more green jackets, the most dramatic being in 1986 when he was 46 years old. I could not believe it when Larry Mize sunk a 140 foot chip shot in 1987 to beat out Greg Norman in a playoff. Ben Crenshaw's emotional win in 1995 and Phil Mickelson leaping into the air in 2004 after his birdie putt are also strong memories in my mind.

   But even without the golfers out there, the course is so beautiful, it stands by itself. Rae's creek, the Ben Hogan bridge, the Eisenhower tree, the magnolias all add to the uniqueness of this tournament. No wonder the birds love to sing there. Just listen, you'll hear them. It must be spring.

Answer

   Thought you might want the answer to the Guess blog. The BMW sold for $73,100, which was a good price. We thought it would go for more, but you just never know.

   Beer: Helping white guys dance since 1842   -   bumper sticker

A C D & F

   Anterior cervical discectomy and fusion, with plating with autograft. I mean, if you're going to have one thing done, you might as well go all the way. That's what I did one year ago today.

  I awoke the day after Martin Luther King's birthday with a stiff neck. I thought I had just slept in an awkward position, no big whoop. The next day it was still stiff, and it did not get any better over time. I could not turn left or right without it hurting at the base of my neck into my right shoulder. After a visit to the doctor, x-rays were taken and they came back negative. Some pain pills were prescribed and I continued to work for the next two weeks. The next hoop to jump through for the insurance company was two weeks of physical therapy. By this time my right arm was really hurting and I had started to lose strength in it. There just was no comfortable position for my arm to be in without feeling a throbbing pain in my neck and shoulder. After a week of that I said no more, it was making matters worse. So after pre-authorization was completed, an MRI was preformed. By this time, towards the end of February, the pain in my neck and right shoulder was so severe that I could not lie still. This meant they had to sedate me for the MRI, which meant a nurse had to be present. It's always something.

   Now that we had some pictures, it was time to see more doctors. I had now lost a significant amount of strength in my arm and concern was setting in. We went to see an orthopedic surgeon and a neurologist. They both said that surgery needed to be performed. The MRI told the story. Here were all these perfect pictures of my neck and then, all of a sudden, bam, here's this one frame with this black hole in the middle of it. That's where the disc herniated, between C6 and C7. They explained it to me as taking a jelly donut and squeezing it until the jelly starts to come out the hole. When that disc herniated, my nerves got pinched and that's what lead to the pain and loss of strength in my arm. All because I was trying to get a good nights sleep.

   All this time, life was miserable to say the least. I was on pain pills that would paralyze a horse, plus Ambien at night to try and get some sleep. It still didn't help. I drove my bride to the other bedroom because I would wake up in the middle of the night just screaming in agony. I found the most comfortable place was in the recliner, about halfway back, with a pillow on my chest to rest my arm on. This position provided about 2 hours of good sleep. I was not a happy camper.

   After some soul searching and background checks, we decided on Dr. Steve Johnson who was assisted by Dr. David Wong. As I like to say, Steve did the wiring and David did the body work. Dr. Johnson scrapped the disc out after getting through all the nerves and whatever else is in your neck, and Dr.Wong did a bone graft from the right side of my hip and screwed in the four holed titanium bracket that holds my neck in place. They even did the incision on a wrinkle line on my neck so you can't see the scar. How cool is that? These two gentleman did an awesome job and I owe my life to them. Thank you so very much.

   Surgery was around 1:30 and I awoke around 8:15 that night to the lovely sight of my bride and her sister. Less than two days later I was free. I do not like hospitals. I don't know why, I just don't. That's probably a whole other story. I was back home and happy, but still pretty dopey. For the next 3 months I had to wear this neck brace. Not much of a fashion statement, but a definite necessity. After a month, when it was determined that everything had progressed as planned, it was time for physical therapy. Health South was a 1 1/2 mile walk from our house, which was perfect. It was 3 times a week for an hour or longer session, over about a three month time period. These folks did a great job. I got the strength back in my arm and the movement back in my neck. Plus one of the therapists was a Red Sox fan. Life is good.

   I did not start back to work until the middle of July and then for only 4 hours a day. It was not until September that I started working a full 8. Everything now is superb. I've got a route where I don't have to carry mail on my shoulders, I'm pain free and although I've lost a little bit of range of motion in my neck, it's no big deal. I'm a very thankful man.

   So be careful when you go to bed tonight. They say that 80% of herniated discs are caused while you are sleeping. What do they know? Sleep tight.

   Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.   -   Bumper sticker

 

Guess

   Are you ready to play a little game? Let's play price the car. This car is being listed on E-bay right now. It was completely restored by my friend Bruce Testerman and his partner Jim Peterson at T's Sunrise in Englewood, Colorado. This 1973 BMW was affectionately called a "Batmobile" and is one of 39 ever made. The bidding will end this coming Sunday and I'm sure some of you will be shocked at the final selling price. Go ahead and check it out.

   It is a fair wind that blew men to the ale.   Washington Irving   -   American writer

Christmas

   Before and after shots from Christmas Eve at Patty's sisters house. We go over to Richard and Mary Ann's abode every year on Christmas Eve. It's a true delight to have the family gather together to witness the destruction of wrapping paper. What a blast.

   Neighborhood houses are all lit up, so the drive home is always full of oohs and aahs. Very attractive indeed.

   With all of this in mind, Patty and I would like to say Feliz Navidad and Merry Christmas to one and all. We wish you a splendid 2006.

   The closest thing to heaven on this planet anywhere, is a quiet Christmas morning in the Colorado snow.   -   Lyrics from a Nitty Gritty Dirt Band song

   

   

   

Vacation

   We will be out of town until December 7th. It's off to San Jose Del Cabo, Mexico on a trip that was delayed from April because of the herniated disc in my neck. Stay tunned for a Mexico blog or two after we get back. I don't have no stinkin' laptop.

Thanksgiving

   Besides giving thanks for all the blessings in our lives, Thanksgiving is a day were we Americans try to stuff as much turkey into our stomachs as we possibly can. It's a time for families to gather together around the dinning room table and feast like there's no tomorrow. I always think of the Norman Rockwell painting where the mom is setting the turkey on the table and the family is eyeing it like they will never see another one again in their lifetime. Decisions are being made as to what piece of the turkey they want to devour first. Breast, leg, thigh, white meat, dark meat, we all have our favorite section of the bird. Notice that I said first, seconds are mandatory.

   But to me, the biggest thrill was when I was given the honor of carving the turkey for the first time. It was a passage to manhood. I watched my father for years gently slice the breast meat so that it came off in just the perfect dimensions and then stack them on a plate for everyone to salivate over. I'd think to myself, I could never do it that good. But then, after having the first slice jitters, you get into a groove and a smile comes over your face as you realize, it ain't so hard after all.

  We have been flocking over to Mary Ann and Richard Ziemba's house now for the last 8 years. Patty's sister always puts out the welcome mat for us and Richard is a great cook. We enjoy watching them do all the work. With the addition of their two children, Sydney (left between Patty and Mary Ann) and Leilani (right), and the grand matriarch, Rose Doyle, the family gathering is complete. They also invited their friend Chip (between Lani and Richard) over to join in the fellowship.

   But since someones birthday falls very close to Thanksgiving, the celebration isn't complete until the birthday cake is eaten. It's number 53 and I'm very thankful for that. Syd and I are licking the chocolate frosting off of the bottom of the candles. Why? Because we can. Waste not, want not is what we always say.

   So let's give thanks, eat, and then turn on the TV because the Denver Broncos are playing football this afternoon. It doesn't get any better than this. Happy Thanksgiving to one and all.

   He who is not strong before 20, handsome before 30, wise before 40, and rich before 50 - on such a man even beer is altogether lost.   -   German Proverb

Kevin

   This is going to be part therapy and part blog. This morning, at around 6:30, we received a phone call from Jeanie Testerman telling us that Bruce's younger brother Kevin, was found dead in his bathroom. They left this morning for Miller, South Dakota. I don't have anymore details. I'd like to share some memories with you.

   Kev was in his mid 40's. This is him with his bride Deb. They have two sons from his first marriage, Tom and Paul. Kevin and I used to talk about how fortunate we were to have such great women in our lives, to replace that bad taste in our mouths from failed first marriages. Brides is a term we both used out of pride and respect. They were married shortly after us and attended our wedding.

   Kevin was the last member of the family to run the Testerman farm. Quiet and easy going, it took a lot to get him riled up. I can remember one pheasant season when everyone was getting in a tizzy because it was almost noon, and that's when you can start hunting. Kevin very calmly remarked that the rules state that you can start at noon, but that you don't HAVE to. He loved to hunt and fish, which is almost a prerequisite if you live in South Dakota. He mockingly threw rocks at me one day while we were fishing because he thought I had landed a carp. Turns out it was a 24" rainbow trout. When he saw what it was, he came running over and just started going on and on about what a great catch it was. I don't think I have ever heard him talk so much.

    I won't ever forget the year he let me take one of his Labradors to go pheasant hunting with. Just me and a dog. He just told me that I knew how to work Lex and to go get some birds. I guess he thought this city boy had some country sense to him, and I'm glad he did. I know I had a ball, and I think Lex had fun too.

   But with all his prowess with a rifle or a rod, he was absolutely phenomenal in the kitchen. To say this man could cook would be an understatement. It didn't make a difference if it was game, fowl, beef, or pig, he could make it into an epicurean delight. I will never be able to simmer a pot of northern beans and ham on my wood stove again without thinking of him. Thanks for the recipe.

   I will miss you Kevin Testerman, and I promise that the next time Patty and I do the two-step, we'll think of you. Thanks for the memories.

Veteran

   Yes, I am a veteran and proud of it. I enlisted in the United States Air Force at the tender age of 19 in February 1972 and received my honorable discharge in August 1977. I did not realize it at the time, but those 5 plus years shaped my life to the point, that I am forever thankful for today. I became a man.

   I did two tours of duty overseas during that time. One year was spent in Nakom Phanom, Thailand as a ground to air radio mechanic, and another year I was a DJ on the Armed Forces Radio & Television Service stationed in Sondrestrom, Greenland. Two years, as different as night and day, that I wouldn't trade for anything.

   While I was in Greenland, I was awarded this medal that I am most proud of. A US cargo plane had over shot the runway, crashed and burned. Sondy was a small base with less than 100 American servicemen stationed there, but in an instant, most of those personnel where able to get to the runway and help save 6 lives from that plane crash that was later classified as unsurvivable. It was a tragic day and one I will never forget.

   With that being said, I was a little hacked off yesterday when I had a customer who was annoyed that the post office was going to be closed today because her Visa payment was going to be late. That gnawed on me like a pit bull on a pork chop for the rest of the day. I hope she was the exception and not the rule. To think that our serviceman are willing to  make the ultimate sacrifice by putting their lives on the line to protect our freedom that we cherish so much, and that some people see Veteran's Day as an inconvenience, really makes me stop and wonder about our nation's character.

   So I would like to take this time to thank Doug, Cindy, Rick, Barbara, Dick, Brent, the 35 other veteran's in our post office, and any other vet who may read this. I salute you, I honor you. Thank you.

  Bart, a woman is like a beer. They look good, they smell good, and you'd step over your own mother just to get one   -   "Homer Simpson"   character from the TV show The Simpsons

   

35

   No, that is not my IQ, although I am sure that you could find someone that would argue that point. It is not my age either. As a matter of fact it is my new waist size and I hate it.

   It all started back in March after I went through surgery for a herniated disc in my neck. On doctors orders, I was not allowed to do anything but walk. No lifting, bending, stooping, squatting, twisting, pushing, reaching, whatever, nothing but walking. That went on for 3 1/2 months and I did a lot of walking. Towards the end I was walking 3-5 miles a day, and loving it. Since the docs had taken a piece of bone off of the left side of my hip to fuse into my neck, pants were a little uncomfortable because they would go right across where the incision was made. Sweat pants on the other hand were quite comfortable, and so they were my fashion statement during that period.

   About a week before I was to go back to work, I decided I had better try on a pair of my work pants. No way, no how, not even close to fitting around my new found girth. I had discovered the curse of sweat pants, they don't let you know that you are getting bigger. Now since the Post Office doesn't consider sweat pants to be appropriate attire, I had to go out and buy some new pants and MLB (my lovely bride) let out few of my old ones. Thank you honey.

   Now that I've been back on the job for awhile, I've lost a little of what I had put on, but the old pants are still a scosh (sp?) snug. This all leads to 35. My old size was 34, after my surgery, it was more like 36 and today it's 35. Why do they not make men's pants in 35? They go from 34 to 36. It's like they figure that if you going to get bigger, you'd better put on 2 more inches if you want your pants to fit nice. What is it with 35? They make 28, 29, 30, 31, 32 ,33 ,34, why stop the odd numbers there? Do they do the same with woman's clothing?  If I wear my 36s, my belt makes them cinch up around my waist. For the 34s, I'd have to suck it in for 8 hours. 35 would be perfect. Is this an evil plot from the people that make suspenders? It's not funny.

   Anyway, that's where I'm at, a crossroads if you will. Do I just say screw it and go for the 36s or work my way down to the 34s? Maybe sweat pants are a man's 35.

Let us drink for the replenishment of our strength, not for our sorrow.   -   Cicero