Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

"We are skilled in what we are schooled in." - Matthew Swope

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

"Parenthood starts as a one-way relationship and parents have little right to ever expect it to change. Parents give, children receive. Parents had a choice. The children did not." - Matthew Swope

Things that make you go... Hmm

Why do some people preface advice by saying, "A word to the wise..."?

Do the wise really need your advice?

It makes more sense to only give advice to the people who need it and start by saying "A word to the fool..." so they know they should pay attention.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

"If you do not show affection, how will anyone know you feel affection?" - Matthew Swope

Things that make you go... Hmm

Isn't it curious that the only honorable means to respectfully "retire" a damaged American flag is not to bury, discard, nor recycle it but to burn it? That's right.

Yet there are self-proclaimed 'patriots' who figuratively wrap themselves in that flag and aim to amend America's most fundamental legal document in order to forbid the burning of that flag by protesters, a right of expression which is protected by that very same document.

What exactly is the difference between the "respectful" burners and the "protest" burners? The result is the same - ashes where a flag used to be. The only difference is what they are thinking while they burn the flag and the statement they intend to make?

So what are the "patriots" trying to accomplish? To restrict public speech? To police our private thoughts?

What kind of government punishes its citizens for unacceptable statements and unacceptable thoughts? Sounds more like fascism, doesn't it? And I seem to recall us going to war with a couple countries like that.

Hmm.

Joke - Kings & Cons

If a king rules a kingdom, then what does a khan rule?
A condom?

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

If sex alone was as satisfying as sex with a partner
there would be a whole lot fewer of us around to do either.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

One may join in battle those whom he would not join in friendship.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

Stifling the expression of an opinion does not prevent the possession of it.

Things that make you go... Hmm

Can you be arrested for simply resisting arrest? Isn't that a catch-22? Entrapment?

I can imagine the police report:

We informed subject that we were placing him under arrest (but we were just kidding). Subject claimed we had no cause and proceeded to resist, at which point we had cause. We then informed him we were no longer kidding and proceeded to actually place him under arrest for resisting arrest.

Don't tase me, Bro!

A new slogan for a new generation of disillusioned, disenfranchised youth...

"Don't tase me, Bro!"

Click here to see the 2.5-min video.

A University of Florida student questioned Sen. John Kerry at an open mic following a public speech. When his questioning became more heated, police officers attempted to forcibly remove him from the building. He resisted, prompting at least one officer to draw his side-arm, as others ultimately wrestled him to the ground. The student continued to resist with cries of "What have I done? Why are you arresting me? Somebody help me!"

With at least one hand in handcuffs, possibly his feet, and half a dozen cops on him, he was threatened with a taser if he continued to refuse to cooperate, to which he responded, "Don't tase me, bro!" followed by screams of pain when an officer used a taser on him. To add to the absurdity, Kerry denies hearing the boy's screams in the back of the auditorium.

"Don't tase me, Bro!" will surely become an instant classic on par with "Can't we all just get along?" [Rodney King], "If it doesn't fit, you must acquit" [Johnnie Cochran], and "Is our children learning?" [GW Bush].

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

You cannot play poker alone.

Of course, this is not an original insight on my part. In the immortal words of a modern-day minstrel-philosopher, Kenny Rogers:

You got no one to hold 'em, no one to fold 'em,
No one to walk away and no one to run.

You got no one period! It's just plain lonely playing cards alone.

Things that make you go... Hmm

Can Two Positives = A Negative?

If "yeah" means yes, affirmative, or agreed and "right" means correct, true, or appropriate
then why does "Yeah, right!" mean no?

Things that make you go... Hmm

Things were difficult under Soviet Communism, but are they really that much better under Mafia-controlled pseudo-Democracy?

If the attractiveness of female tennis players is any indication, then the answer is a resounding yes.

Consider the stereotypical image of a Russian woman under Soviet Communism. The images we saw in American made them out to be something out of a Grimm folktale - a short, stout woman toiling in the dirt or waiting in a bread line, wrapped in a drab, gray-tone dress, a black kerchief covering her hair & tied beneath one of her many chins, in need of a professional facial waxing, and a leg waxing, and maybe some on... well you get the idea.

Now picture the Russian woman of today as exemplified by just about any modern tennis professional (eg, Maria Sharapova, Anna Kournikova, Maria Kirilenko, Anna Chakvetadze, Ekaterina Bychkova, Anastasia Rodionova), the plethora of recent fashion models from Russia, or the thousands of Russian mail-order brides advertised widely on the internet.

All things being equal, perhaps mafia-controlled corruption has at least one advantage over Soviet-controlled corruption. Hmm.

THEN: Nadezhda Belonenko, c1950 . . . . . . . . . NOW: Maria Sharapova, 2006.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

If "the good die young" then what does that say for all of us over thirty?

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

The only way to teach love is to give love.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

You cannot learn to swim without getting wet.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

Learning does not require a teacher, but a desire.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

Hope today may make tomorrow appear better than yesterday,
but only Action today will make it turn out better.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

Biology can make you a father, but only your child can make you a daddy.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

Children do not love their parents because their parents deserve to be loved.
Children love their parents because they love their parents.
Children deserve nothing less in return.

Mortal Sin?

My oldest son split the corner of his eye open today. I saw him fall and hit the edge of an end-table and thought he had put his eye out. I ran to him, scooped him up in my arms, and hoped it wouldn't be as bad as I feared when I finally pulled him away to take a closer look. It was scary to witness.

If you know me well, you may know that I tend to respond to intense fear with a nearly instantaneous response of intense anger as soon as the fear has passed.

I know it's wrong to use the Lord's name in vain, but I'm pretty sure it's much worse when you include his middle name. And if you do it more than once in a raised voice, does that qualify as what the Catholics call a mortal sin? I sure hope not, you know, for those people who might be inclined to do that. Use the Lord's middle name in vain, that is... over and over... kinda almost shouting. You know, I'd just feel bad for those people if they had committed a mortal sin... over and over.

After a trip to the ER, the surgeon determined Aidan's cut wasn't deep enough to warrant a stitch, so they sent us home with some tight steri-strips to hold it closed.

It's a Cold Day in July!

The high today will hit 14C (57F) and the low will be 9C (48F). I'm not talking about the Alps, I'm speaking of Zurich! And we've had a lot of rain lately, a whole lot, so the humidity is pretty high for this area (77%) and there's a little breeze which combine to make it feel even cooler still.

I think the summer decided to take a year off because today is one heck of a cold day in July.

You know what that means, don't you? All bets are off! This signals that anything could happen, no matter how unlikely.

I don't know about you, but I find myself constantly glancing out the window to see if I can catch a glimpse of pigs flying. As we all know, pigs flying and hell freezing over are both associated with a cold day in July.

The only reason I'm not panicking is because my fortune cookie last night said "You will find happiness if you make change", so I've been carrying a pocket full of coins today hoping someone needs me to break a bill for them. But I'm seriously worried for the rest of you.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

"When people speak of others they tell you of themselves."

Things that make you go... Hmm

When someone criticizes with the phrase, "That was a half-assed job", what exactly is it that they expected? The whole ass?

A wise man learns from constructive criticism and in the future will be certain to show the criticizer his full ass right from the beginning.

This, of course, is the origin of the phrase, "I'll show you the moon".

Things that make you go... Hmm

If it could really "go without saying" then why do we always say it immediately after we say "It goes without saying..."?

Things that make you go... Hmm

Sometimes I wonder about the origin of common sayings. For instance, "The cops really manhandled that guy" or "Nice girls don't like to be manhandled".

Exactly what part of the body is the "manhandle" and is it appropriate to discuss in polite company?

Things that make you go... Hmm

Have you ever wondered why you can't tickle yourself?

Never thought about it?

Well, give it a try. We'll wait...

See, you can't do it, can you?

I guess there's more to tickling than the simple physical sensation.

I was thinking of other things you can't do to yourself and I almost mentioned that you can't really scare yourself. But that's not really true, is it?

Swiss Holiday... NOT Father's Day

National holidays can tell you something of a nation's identity - how the people view themselves. Consider the romanticized version of the English Pilgrim's experiences in Plymouth, MA that Americans celebrate as Thanksgiving each November. Several commonly-held beliefs about those events are open to criticism or alternative interpretations, yet Americans choose to celebrate the day as one of religious freedom, family gathering, perseverance, unity, and other virtues. To an outside observer, though, it could very well appear to be a more exemplary of American consumerism than of American values (assuming, of course, you choose not to believe that excessive consumerism is not a core American value).

Another example is the fervent celebration of worker's rights on May Day (May 1st) in France and elsewhere. Unlike the US Labor Day, May Day is notably more politically charged, including many demonstrations, strong union presence, near universal observance across the country, and clear undercurrents of socialism and the extreme political left.

You can also tell something about a nation and its people by the holidays they choose not to observe. For instance, Father's Day. Switzerland does not celebrate Father's Day. The Swiss do observe a day to honor fatherhood of a sort and, not surprisingly, it is religious in nature. The closest equivalent to Father's Day in Switzerland is the Catholic observance of Saint Joseph's Day in mid March, the day they honor Joseph, the husband of Mary and adopted father of Jesus.

In my opinion, the reason a real Father's Day is not observed in Switzerland is telling of the nation's priorities. In my opinion, the Swiss honor mothers, but not necessarily women. What I mean is that this nation values women for their role as mothers, but not for much else. On the flip side, men are not primarily respected for their roles in parenting children, but in providing for their family and fulfilling their responsibilities to their communities. Of course, that is simply my opinion.

Happy Father's Day.

Things that make you go... Hmm

The only time you hear someone respond "Don't mention it" is after someone else has already mentioned it.

That's kinda silly, don't you think?

If you don't want to sound silly you should say "Don't mention it" before the other person mentions it. That wouldn't be silly at all.

Out of the mouths of babes...

I set the timer on our television so our boys won't watch too much and it was about to expire recently, so Aidan asked Stephanie just after she arrived home from work to fix it so the show wouldn't turn off.

He them came over to me and said, "Mommy is a better mommy than you are, Daddy."

My only reply was, "Yes she is, kiddo, but not in the way you think."

Steph pumps up on the web

Stephanie's personal trainer maintains a website [www.fit4morefun.com] and asked "Dr. Stephanie", as he refers to her on the site, if he could include her photo in his gallery of clients.

You can see her lifting weights and crunching her abs here.

The gist of the German commentary beneath her photos is that by including weight-lifting in her fitness routine, she expends a lot of calories and burns fat even after her work-out because it encourages her metabolism to convert stored fat into energy. I assume she must be in the midst of doing deadlifts because he also says this is the best exercise for the legs, lower back, and hiney. And ab-training on the ball is fun and an excellent exercise assuming it's done correctly.

Two of the other clients featured are co-workers of hers. The trainer, Roger, used to be a competitive body builder and you can see a few of his photos from 20 years ago here.

Things that make you go... Hmm

Why is it that people always say "No offense intended" right after they say something that couldn't be interpreted as anything other than offensive?

For example, if you follow a statement like, "You are a dumb ass", with "No offense intended" that just confuses matters. Who's really the dumb ass? You for saying something dumb like, "No offense intended", or the other guy for whatever reason you called him a dumb ass in the first place? It's far better to leave your offenses exactly as you intended them so it's very clear who the dumb ass is.

If you feel compelled to couch such a statement, it might be better to say "With all due respect, you are a dumb ass" because everybody knows that whatever follows "with all due respect" is never, ever, in the least bit respectful.

Lisa Simpson and the London Olympics

The unveiling this week of the winning logo design for the 2012 summer Olympics in London has caused a great deal of public outcry in Great Britain. Initial response has been overwhelmingly negative.

Organizers were trying to target a younger audience with the "hip" design that is supposed to capture the vibe of the graffiti which can be seen all over the city, but they have received harsh criticism from many corners.

I heard an artist/designer criticize the fact that the logo expresses disharmony and division rather than unity and cohesion, a common ideal of the Olympic games. London's own mayor says this design is a "catastrophic mistake" and said the designers should not be paid.

Others have noted that it does not represent the city in a positive way and, if not for the printed word 'London', nobody would be able to connect this design to the city. Many past Olympic logos have included some identifiable motif of the host nation, as did London's own 1948 logo the last time they hosted the Olympic games which prominently featured Big Ben in the background.

Yet another criticism is that, when displayed in a flashing television ad, the logo has induced epileptic seizures (at least 22 cases have been reported) in some with photosensitive epilepsy.

Someone pointed out to me that the logo looks an awful lot like Lisa Simpson doing a Monica Lewinski impersonation. I couldn't see it until he pointed it out and now I can't see anything but.

Things that make you go... Hmm

What if... instead of 8 tentacles, octopuses (the term, octopi, is technically incorrect) had 6 or 10? Would we call them Sexapuses? Decapuses? Both words sound like they could refer to something other than a marine animal.

Oppressive Communism & GeeDubya.

Steph's parents just got back from a 2-night jog over to Prague during their visit with us. They absolutely loved the city and, like us, would recommend everyone add it to their lifetime list of travel destinations.

In my opinion, Prague should be counted among the "great cities of Europe" alongside Paris, Rome, London, Vienna, and a few others.

I just wanted to share this ad they noticed on the back of a tourist map. It is for the Museum of Communism. The Czechs are not in any way celebrating the communist years any more than American celebrate our Civil War or the institution of slavery, they are simply remembering it.

Take a close look at the tag line -

PARANOIA, PROPAGANDA, MILITARY INVASIONS.
NO, IT'S NOT GEORGE W'S AMERICA.

It is funny, yet sad. The foreign policy position of this administration & its attack on civil liberties in the name of securing our national interests is nothing new in other parts of the world. They lived through decades of similar regimes and are still paying the price.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

"The boy is master of nothing.
The man is master of nothing but himself."

"Boys are born. Men are made."

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

"The disappointment you feel when you fail to achieve ambitious goals
is better than the disappointment you are when you fail to reach for any."

Dumpster Cleaning Day

Believe it or not, the Swiss even keep their dumpsters clean.

To the right, you'll see a picture of the trash collector pressure spraying out one of the dumpsters. I don't pay close attention, but I think they do this about once a quarter.

One or two men will come out with their dump truck and spend about 45-60min hosing and scrubbing out the half a dozen or so dumpsters located around the cul-de-sac in front of our building.

All you have to do to appreciate the degree of order and cleanliness in Switzerland is to cross the border into Italy, France, or Germany. I love those countries, but nobody can match the Swiss in this regard.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

"Every man receives from himself exactly as much, or as little, as he is willing to accept
and can expect no more from his brother."

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

"I play for the fun of it. And winning is fun."

Well-meaning adults say healthy children should learn to play games, not to win, but for the sheer fun of it. Healthy children say winning is fun.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

"Animals are admired for the burdens they can bear;
men for the manner in which they bear them."

The Cows Came Home

One of the many small things we love about living in Switzerland is how, with the exception of large city centers, land use is integrated with a lot of attention dedicated to preserving natural green space. Even the yards are often what I call the 'cultivated wild' look with lots of tall grasses and wild flowers.

Right behind our apartment building is a cow pasture which slopes down to a wooded stream. Cows aren't there all year round - the local farmer rotates them from pasture to pasture and, presumably, off to the butcher when they've reached sufficient size. We were delighted to discover 6 new neighbors had been rotated into our pasture this morning.

About two block away, not far from our tram stop, there is a horse pasture and a garden store with rabbit pens outside. A few blocks away near our local hospital is a goat pen we occasionally visit with carrot treats. Two blocks in the other direction is a field with some sheep. And so on.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wit & Wisdom

"Photographing children is like fishing -
the ones you catch never measure up to the ones that got away."

Things that make you go Hmm...

A common saying goes, "That's easier said than done". I wonder if it ever works the other way around.

Is there anything "that's easier done than said"?

I considered exfoliate, impregnate, gesticulate, and many other -ates, but they all involve more work in the performance than in the pronunciation.

Perhaps, in certain cases for certain people, expropriate could be harder to say than to do.

Hmm. I wonder. . .

Swiss Holiday... Auffahrt

Some German words sound like they mean something very different to Anglo listeners. Today, we celebrate Auffahrt!

Auffahrt, which Babelfish translates literally as "ramp", actually refers to Ascension Day. This compound word is a fusion of two simple German words, auf, meaning 'up' in this context and fahrt, meaning 'journey' or 'trip'. Literally, "the up journey".

Unlike most religious - that is, of course, to say Christian - holidays in Switzerland, a single day is sufficient for a proper celebration. The observation of Auffahrt, the bodily Ascension of the resurrected Christ up to heaven, only involves schools and businesses being closed today (Thursday). Life returns to normal tomorrow.

Easter, on the other hand, can come as quite an inconvenient surprise to unprepared ex-pats. A day, even a weekend, is nowhere near enough time to celebrate Easter. Many schools & businesses close early on Wednesday afternoon and remain closed through the following Monday. If you failed to prepare by Wed morning with enough groceries to last a week, you'll have to tighten your belt until the following Tuesday.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wisdom

"Two journeys that begin at the same origin and arrive at the same destination
are not be the same journey if they follow different paths.
One's path is one's purview."

Two books which start and end with the exact same word can recount completely unique, otherwise unrelated stories.

Every one of us is born and every one of us will die. Our difference, our uniqueness, comes in between - in the way we choose to live our lives, the paths we choose to follow, and the stories we leave behind.

One's life is a matter of one's choices. And a choice is an instantaneous experience that can be changed in the very next instant, thereby, changing one's life.

Your path is your purview. Your life is your choice.

Out of the mouths of babes...

Children are so innocent, at least for awhile. Their limited understanding of the world is actually one of their many endearing qualities.

I was organizing and backing-up the many gigabytes of digital photos we've taken over the last five years when Aidan, bored with whatever he had been doing, sidled up beside me, stared at the screen of photos for a second, and asked to sit on my lap to watch what I was doing.

I scrolled past some thumbnail photos of me in a suit from when I worked in real estate and...

"Go back, Daddy! Was that when you were 'really big'?" he asked
I responded, "Do you mean when I was a Realtor? Yes."
Unsatisfied with my cryptic answer, he persisted "What's a 'tor', Daddy?"
"Realtor. It's one whole word, Realtor, and it means I was a salesman."
"Oh, wow! Did you have to 'sail' all day long, Daddy?"

Heh. I could've answered many ways, but just chuckled instead and told him it was nothing all that exciting. He lost interest and left to find some toy to manipulate or play make-believe with, possibly still believing I used to be a sailor.

The ripple effect

Hello everyone, and Happy Mother's Day! Here's to all of our mothers. You certainly don't realize the time and energy that your mother gave to you, especially during those labor intensive first few years, until you have wee ones of your own, now do you? Thanks, Mom!

Tonight as I was tucking Asher into bed (still the crib -- can he stay in there forever please?), I asked him if I could hold him like a baby. He said yes. I told him how he was the #2 baby to come out of my belly (to which he exclaimed "ya!"), how he drank my milk ("ya!") and how very much I love him ("ya!"). He still has somewhat of a baby face, even at 2 years old, whereas Aidan's has already changed into a definite little-boy configuration. Asher's already so big that I can hardly hold him in my arms "like a baby," but I relish in every last hug and snuggle I get from these 2 boys, as I know it won't be too long before they're too "big" for such cuddles (let's hope that doesn't happen until they're at least 13).

Speaking of "big," let's do a little photo retrospective of Stephanie's pregnancy moments and accounting of good friends that happened to be gestating and/or lactating at the same time...



Here I am with Gwendolyn Tedder, FSU college classmate of yore and long time friend, who now lives in Portland, Maine. Seth Zachary Tedder sprung forth into this world in October 2005, just 3 months after I had Aidan Zane.

Coincidentally, later on when I had our #2 little man Asher Maxwell, Gwen and her husband Doug had just 3 months earlier delivered their second son -- James Logan.

When in Springfield, IL, I met Victoria Kennedy at the local La Leche League meeting whilst she was "with child," carrying a certain Miss Catherine Elizabeth. Pictured here, we were [heavy with pregnancy], carrying our #2 babies. James Michael was born just 3 days after Asher.


You never can tell in life just whose life you may touch, and the ripple effect it may have. While in residency, my fellow resident Greg Babcock and his wife were expecting their first child.

Barbara had baby Lauren, and was a proud breasfeeding mom. I was very intrigued by her nursing relationship, since I hadn't really ever been around a nursing mom. It seemed so natural, so discreet, such a connection, in more ways than the obvious, so....right! Her mom had been a La Leche League leader, and she had thus been to meetings with her mom as a young girl, and had heard the breastfeeding mantra "breast is best" her whole life. It was inspiring to be around someone who held so steadfast in her mission to exclusively breastfeed. Later on she would "wow" us all when she exclusively breastfed their subsequent twins, Audrey and Corbin.


So, when I was pregnant with Aidan, I decided that I would give it a whirl, when the time came. After that first difficult night at home, trying to feed a baby that didn't like to open his mouth very wide, I went to my first La Leche league meeting the very next morning. And the rest is history.


I would like to say a big thank you now, this Mother's Day, to Barbara Babcock, for her example, her advice and her friendship, during those early days of childbearing and breastfeeding.


And, the ripple effect continues, in the times that I have shared some advice or anectdotes from La Leche league learnings and personal experience, to other new moms. And in the friends that I have met through La Leche League alone.

Happy Mothers Day, Moms! I am thinking of all of you.

--Stephanie

Swope Genealogy back to Colonial Days

Jennifer Hodge (Swope), my cousin, recently had some genealogy research done on our line of Swopes in the United States and tracked it back 7 generations to our great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, Jacob Schoap, born in Germany just two years before the outbreak of the American Revolution who emigrated to the territory that would later become the state of Ohio. Many thanks to Jenny for sharing this information. I will do my best to interpret the records and recount history accurately, but I apologize for any mistakes.

• Jacob Swope (b. 06-May-1774) was a German immigrant, born Jacob Schoap, who made his way to Seneca, Ohio to become a farmer. He married Dorothea Weller (b. 09-Dec-1789) from Frederic County, Virginia, who at 15 years his junior, was nearly young enough to be his daughter. Beginning in 1809, when he was 35 and she was 20, they had the first of 13 children. Their fourth child, Henry, was born in 1813, when Jacob was 39. Their last arrived in 1833 when Dorothea was 44 and Jacob was 59! Perhaps it was his young wife or maybe it was the result of having children so late in life, but something kept him young at heart for Jacob lived to be 86 years old.
• Henry Swope (b. 13-Sep-1813) continued living in Ohio and, in 1839, broke tradition with his father to marry a woman his own age, Elizabeth Williams (b. 11-June-1817), who was only four years younger than himself. Not wanting to wait the typical 9-10 months for gestation, Elizabeth gave birth to John, the first of their 8 children, just four months after their nuptials. Henry lived 76 years.
• John R Swope (b. 10-Jun-1839) was born in the town of Jackson in Seneca County, Ohio. He continued the practice of marrying someone his own age and, in 1861, the first year of the Civil War, he wedded Mary Ann Nederhouser (b. 10-Sep-1842) from near Akron, OH. John would have been 21 at the outbreak of the Civil War, but I have no information on whether or not he participated. It is worth noting that Ohio remained loyal to the Union, so if John did participate, it's safe to assume the same of him. According to one record, his second child was born only a few months after the end of the Civil War, over a year after according to another. But because his first child was born in the middle of that conflict, it is possible he did not participate at all. Public records conflict a bit. In fact, they suggest that John married twice to women of virtually identical names & age who both bore John sons, in consecutive years, who also shared the same name. I will assume John's two wives and two sons are, in fact, one and the same, because such a coincidence is just too hard to believe. It is possible that Mary Ann’s last name was spelled Neiderhouser, and it appears the first of their two children arrived two years after their wedding. Another two years later, Jacob H was born in 1865 (1866 according to another record). John lived 62 years and was buried in Fostoria, OH.
• Jacob H Swope (b. 30-Jul-1865) arrived on the scene just five years after the death of his namesake, the pre-Revolutionary, cradle-robbing great-grandfather, with whom he shared longevity. Jacob may have been the one to relocate to Michigan, as records show he was buried there in 1953 at the age of 88. But I skipped ahead. Jacob H married Ida Millhime (b. 1869) some time before he died and, presumably, before they had at least two children. Curiously, the public records I saw don't show that any of their children were named Howard, but I've been told they brought my great-grandfather into the world in 1892, when Jacob was 27 and Ida was 23.
• Howard Swope (b. 1892), my great-grandfather, was born in Ohio, was a veteran of the first World War, and worked as a laborer in a Michigan shipyard for a time. He lived in Trenton, a suburb of Detroit with his wife, Lillian Stuck, and children. I never met my great-grandfather and, if I remember the stories correctly, I think Howard may have gone on to live a bit of a troubled life. The story goes that he accidentally killed his first wife, my great-grandmother, one night when he mistook her for a burglar. Howard changed his last name to Adams, possibly to avoid legal detection and left the state and his family. Whatever the particulars of his life, he did me and my family a great service by fathering Russell Swope in 1923.
• Russell H Swope (b. 09-Nov-1923), my grandfather, was born in Michigan, I believe in Trenton. I knew my grandfather to be a kind and hard-working man. He served in World War II and, after his return from service, married Doris Grote (b. 1927), the daughter of Ruth and George. Together, my grandparents had 6 children in Michigan, the third being my father, Randy and the last of whom came as an unexpected blessing when Russell was 45 and Doris was 40, only a few months before the birth of their first grandchild. They eventually relocated to Pinellas county, Florida in the late 1970s. Most of their children followed, sooner or later, with their oldest two sons waiting to finish their careers in Michigan before both retiring to Florida. Russell worked several jobs over the course of his life, often holding down more than one at a time, including among other jobs factory work, farmer, property manager, and security guard. He smoked more than a pack of cigarettes a day for most of his life, but after a very close call in the 90s, sustained unconscious for a week or so on a ventilator, gave them up entirely to live on another decade and celebrate the birth of at least one more grandchild and several more great-grandchildren. He passed away in 2005 at the age of 81.
• Randy C Swope (b. 06-May-1952), my father, born in Trenton MI is the third of five boys and one girl. He met his future wife, Sherry Westmoreland (b. 07-Apr-1952), in kindergarten, with whom he remained close friends throughout his school years. In Oct-1970, shortly after graduating from high school together, they married and he began work as a restaurant manager. I was born 13 months later, when they were both 19, the first of three boys in six years. Soon after, he was one of the last round of young men to be drafted by the US Army for service in the Vietnam War. Fortunately, the US withdrew from Vietnam before Randy was deployed, so he served his time in non-combat positions, including a few years in Wurzberg, Germany. Following his second hitch, he left the Army and relocated our family to Florida, to restart a career in restaurant management. After nearly 30 years of marriage, he left the family to pursue a different path for his life.

And then there is me, Matthew Swope, continuing a line of Americans, albeit living abroad, that stretches back to before America was a nation. My two wonderful sons, Aidan & Asher, assure that I will not be the last of my line.

An interesting irony is that our family name, Swope, is an Anglicized version of the German surname, Schwab (spelled variously), meaning Swabian or Swabish (effectively, “of Swabia”). Our ancestors, the Suebi, were a Germanic tribe dating back more than 2000 years to at least the time of the early Romans. Along with other Germanic “barbarian” tribes, they eventually helped to topple the Roman Empire and established supremacy over a swath of land that included much of present-day southern Germany and northern Switzerland, with some elements reaching as far as Spain & Portugal. The region of Swabia gave rise to both the great European ruling families of the Habsburgs, rulers of the Holy Roman Empire, Austria, & much of the rest of Europe, and the Hohenzollerns, who ruled as monarchs in Germany/Prussia through the unification of that country to the end of WWI.

After generations of my family in 'the new world', I now live on land that was likely once occupied by the ancient founders of my name and family line. Today, Swabia is the name of a region in the southern German state of Bavaria.

The Miracle of Floss

Today we mark a milestone in the Swiss Swope household. This is the first time we have ever, in all our days, reached the end of a spool of dental floss.

Do you know how hard that is? At the manufacturer, they pack like 12 miles of floss into each of those little dispensers! Actually, it's usually only 25-50m, but that's still a lot for such a small job. And don't start with the wise-cracks about some mouths being bigger than others. It's just a good thing floss doesn't have an expiration date.

I know what you're going to say, "But flossing is so good for your health. Why haven't you been doing it regularly enough to reach the end of a spool before now?"

Well, I don't know anything about butt flossing being good for your health, but I am well aware that dental flossing is good for your teeth and gums. But since our teeth are pretty good, Steph and I have both been pretty negligent in this regard.

That is, until our recent visits to the local Swiss dental tormentor (as recounted here). We now have this nifty new sonic vibro toothbrush that is probably rated for use in delicate archaeological digs. And we've also been flossing more regularly.

However, I must confess that Steph and I did not accomplish this feat entirely on our own. I came home from the gym one afternoon to find Steph on the phone and Asher sitting on the guest bed entwined in several feet of floss (still only a minute fraction of a typical spool) . He appeared to be trying to lace his feet to his overalls, but Steph said it kept him quiet while she talked and he wasn't hurting anything.

I suspect she was also curious to see if the floss would ever run out. It's one of those great mysteries, like how many licks does it take to reach the center of a tootsie roll tootsie pop. I thought floss dispensers could be similar to the Biblical basket of endless fish & bread - every time you close the lid, the contents replenish themselves and never run out. That turned out not to be the case. But they do put so much floss on a single spool that, if Jesus had a typical container of floss back when he fed the 5000, every one of those people could have cleaned the bread and fish from between there teeth and that is no exaggeration.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wisdom

"In public, a cautious man says the same of his friends as his enemies - may they receive what they deserve." - Matthew Swope

Out of the mouths of babes...

It seems that Aidan inherited from me a mild sensitivity to citric acid. It's not an allergy, just a tendency to get a temporary stomach ache if we consume too much citric acid too fast.

When he woke up from a nap he asked me if he could have a cup of orange juice.

"Not on an empty stomach," I said. "Maybe you should eat something first."

"But, Daddy, my stomach won't be empty as soon as I drink the orange juice."

He's got me there.

Poor Matthew's Almanac of Popular Wisdom

Inspired by the witty wordplay, common sense sayings, and practical proverbs of Benjamin Franklin as published in his Poor Richard's Almanack during the waning days of colonial America, I hereby make my first entry in Poor Matt's Almanac of Popular Wisdom:

"It is far easier to keep up than to catch up."

This is generally true, concise, and easy to remember. Brilliant in its simplicity, don't you think? Now I just need to find a way to introduce it into common usage and wait for my royalties to pour in. People pay royalties for the use of popular aphorisms, don't they? No? Darn. There's another brilliant money-making scheme down the drain. Ah well. I thought it sounded clever and I hope you enjoy it.

Here's another entry:

"You either get up or you get left."

It doesn't have as much universal application, but it sounds nice rolling off the tongue when you're saying it to a lazy teenager or other habitually late person who commonly sleeps through alarms.

Yours truly,
Poor Matthew

"I can smell the ocean!"

We have a bunch of foam bath toys for the boys. When they're wet, they stick perfectly to porcelain, tile, and most other bathroom surfaces (the toys, not the boys). They are shaped like various aquatic life - fish, sharks, whales, and the like.

This evening, during their pre-bedtime bath, both boys were delirious and acting goofy. Steph took Asher out first to dry him off as I stood in the doorway sipping tea, awaiting my turn at bat when Aidan loudly proclaimed, "I can smell the ocean!" I looked up to see that he had a foam dolphin sticking halfway up his nose and I nearly shot tea out of my own.

Steph was busy drying Asher and asked him to repeat what he said, to which he responded by cocking his head to the left so all could behold his handiwork and proudly repeating, "I can smell the ocean!"

That creative, curious, mischievous boy brings me such joy! Is it any wonder that I'm such a proud papa?

We got a Wii!!

Stephanie's brother, Adam, just arrived from Florida for a visit and to meet with some European business partners. And he didn't come empty-handed.

Adam and Dave, a good friend of mine in Maryland, have had their eyes out for months trying to get a Wii for me. Dave finally got lucky and happened to walk into a store the very moment they put 5 new Wiis on the shelf. He was fourth in line and barely had time to ship it down to Adam before he flew over.

The Wii has proven to be a hit (literally) with the entire family. Aidan bowled a strike the first time he tried the Wii Sports game (intended for ages 7+) and seems to be a natural. He drops the ball nearly as often as he sends it down the lane, but when he lets it flies, he fires them straight, picking up frequent spares and strikes. Even Stephanie, who has only ever expressed marginal interest in two other video games for as long as I've known her, and my 55-year-old mother got into it.

Here is an intense picture of the two of them duking it out in Wii Sports boxing, yes Boxing, with the two-handed controller while Adam looks on and provides some tips on form & technique.

What a knock-out, huh?

Super Fruit

It is a bit embarrassing to admit, but today - the last day of April, over one month into Spring - we finally disposed of our large Halloween pumpkin - a holiday celebrated on the last day of October, over one month into Autumn.

That's right, this pumpkin lasted OVER 6 months! It looked a bit saggy and black-spotted at the end, but it held up wonderfully for the first 5 months that we kept it indoors. No joke! It looked brand new.

That pumpkin was some kind of super fruit (yes, a pumpkin is a fruit, not a vegetable). In case of WW3, I think the best source for long-term food supply could be a pumpkin patch. Just remember that you heard it here first. ; )

To the right is the super fruit as it appeared on 18-Oct-2006.

Don't let the funny face fool you - the pumpkin is the round orange thing on the right, not the roundish pink thing in denim overalls on the left. ;)

Castle-hopping

Our recent family road-trip through Bavaria into Austria could fairly be described as a castle-hopping tour of spectacular Germanic fortresses. That wasn’t our original intention. In the beginning, we had hoped that both my mother and her mother would join us. Both had lived in Germany for a few years in the early 1970s and my grandmother was interested in having an authentic meal in a German gasthaus again. But my grandmother wasn’t feeling up to the trip, so she remained in the US.

We knew we wanted to visit two or three locations over the course of six or seven days that were easily reachable by car and had something our boys might enjoy. As we looked into it, the trip began to shape up around Füssen, Germany on the front end, because we really wanted to see Neuschwanstein, and Salzburg, Austria at the tail end because we love that city and have a friend who owns a summer apartment there above Café Tomaselli that we could use. I had been interested in seeing Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest for some time and, when Steph mentioned the forthcoming trip to a friend, he highly recommended the natural beauty of Berchtesgaden. So that completed the triumvirate.

We saw and experienced a lot on our trip – the stunning landscapes and natural beauty were breath-taking, the trip into the salt mines under the mountain was fun, the churches and cathedrals were spectacular, and so on – but the grand fortresses of past rulers definitely served as the spine of our trip.

In Füssen, our hotel looked out on the Hohes Schloss, beneath the walls of which our boys picked flowers and rolled in the grass, and we toured two of King Ludwig II’s palaces - Hohen Schwangau and the famously striking, Neuschwanstein.

In Berchtesgaden, we intended to visit Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest, but it didn’t open until the following week (poor planning on my part), so we had to ‘settle’ for the Konigliches Schloss.

From there, we stopped by Hohenwerfen fortress in Austria for a bird-of-prey show against a misty mountainous backdrop over a lush valley on the way to Salzburg.

In Salzburg, we saw the opulent Residenz of the former Prince Archbishops and the surrounding cemeteries and catacombs. We also toured the imposing fortress, Festung Hohensalzburg, arguably Salzburg’s most identifiable landmarks overlooking the city and surrounding vale. We considered visiting the beautiful Mirabell or surprising Hellbrunn, again, but we had seen them on a previous visit and were all castled-out by that point.

For all our friends or family interested in visiting, all of these places are within 2-4 hours of our home by car.

Road Trip through Bavaria & Austria

We just returned from a week-long, family road trip through Bavaria and Austria with my mother, centering on the German towns of Fussen and Berchtesgaden and the Austrian city of Salzburg. The boys were (mostly) wonderful and it was my mother's first time back on German soil since my father was stationed there in the Army back in the early 1970's.

We all had an outstanding time, including among many other things a couple underground wood-rail slides in a salt mine that required leather pads to keep our pants from heating up and an outdoor, dry, toboggan run. We took in spectacular castles, churches, and fortresses at each destination plus all the breath-taking views you could ask for. The weather could not have been any better were made-to-order. Our traditional meals were outstanding and we washed them down with very tasty local beers and mediocre local wines (the climate in Germany and Austria isn't fit for good wine).

I may write more later, but in the mean time here is the obligatory photo of King Ludwig's Neuschwanstein ("New Swan Stone") Castle in the Bavarian countryside. It was intended to honor the great operas of Wagner, whom even non-opera fans will recognize from his Hallelujah Chorus and Ride of the Valkyries, which was perhaps most famously sung by Elmer Fudd.

If the castle looks familiar, this is the castle that inspired Walt Disney to design the Sleepy Beauty Castle as the centerpiece of Disneyland. In case you are wondering, we did not cut and paste that photo from the internet. We saw it with our own eyes and took it with our own camera.

Spring has arrived!

Yes, it's been about 3 weeks since I've posted anything to the blog -- since the first post. So goes the story of my life. It is fast forward from the moment I get up, and suddenly a week has gone by. And then, my inspiration for creating a blog, Angel, posts to her blog each week, and I think "I should do that!"

Presently, I am hoarse, which for a radiologist isn't good news, since I dictate all of my reports. So, I typed my reports today and will likely type them for the next 2 days until my voice comes back. This makes for especially succinct reports, which I'm sure all the participating hospitals in the U.S. are appreciating. I should really keep up the "just the facts ma'am" approach when I get my voice back. I mean who needs "blah, blah, blah" when "blah" really say it all just fine?

Aidan and Asher are finally well (pretty much). We had a week of fever for Aidan, with no other symptoms, which was kind of disconcerting on Day #4...am I missing something? Perhaps a strep throat that doesn't hurt? Am I going to be known as "that lady doctor that didn't take her kid to the doctor for a week and as a result her child got rheumatic heart disease?" (strep related complication). But, just like our neighbors' kids who had the same thing, the fever relented on day #5 and thankfully, Asher didn't get it. Asher is still suffering from a slight runny nose. They don't give vaccines here if you have a runny nose, and is currently due for one, so let's hope there is at least some lull between this runny nose and the next one.

Asher has now been in preschool for about 3 weeks. We decided to enroll Asher in preschool because we heard of one that was (1) near our neighborhood, (2) takes kids that are in diapers still and (3) has very small class sizes of 6 or so kids. He goes on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday mornings. He did pretty well his first couple days, but the last few days has been turning on the tears full bore, to which we say "bye! have a good day!" The teacher is Swiss, and teaches in High German and English. Interestingly, she is a psychologist who is trained in the Adlerian ways of child psychology, which we happened to attend a one-evening course on last winter. Their ideas center around the idea that a lot of your personality is fixed by about age 5 (no pressure there on the parents!), that you should consider the child's drives and thus why they behave the way they do, finding logical consequences for their actions, and other good stuff.

Anyway, she thought it would be good for us to meet after 2 weeks to talk about how he's doing. The first thing she asked us was "what is your philosophy on education?" Hmmm -- I was going to say something about how parents are the first teachers and that learning through play is good at a young age, and Matt responded with "we're going to let the boys go to the local Swiss schools for kindergarten, that is our goal for them." I think he didn't realize she meant more generally 'what is our philosophy.'

So she then goes on to say that we should really think of a few rules for Asher and stick to them -- like when he sits at the table, that he can't get up; he cannot knock over someone's block creations (apparently done 3 times that day at school before he realized that wasn't cool), etc. It sounds like Asher has wrecked havoc on the peace of her preschool community, running around at lunch time and knocking over others' creations.

But, we did realize that we don't sit down and teach Asher specific things at home and that now is the time -- we tend to put his shoes on for him, and so it's time to start the process of him doing it himself. We also walked away feeling like we got the "Swiss" talk from a true Swissy, as some Anglo ex-pats call them in the privacy of their own homes. I mean, they have rules like no others. This is why this place is such a great place to live. Trams run on time, things are clean and orderly, there is a procedure for most things, and don't EVEN think about not doing it the way of the procedure (you should have seen me trying to return my electric toothbrush that wasn't used to a clerk that didn't speak English...).

I have to say that I was a bit taken aback, because I expected that Asher, the more easy going of our 2 offspring, would blend right into preschool, and I was going to get the "he's doing great!" report, rather than the "we need a few rules" talk. But, I think this psychologist lady will be a great asset to have, as I can tell she does have a lot of insight into their little minds. And I think she enjoys these little parent-teacher therapy sessions.

Until the next entry on our adventures in parenting... have a good week!

The Dark side of Dentists and a Swiss sense of Humor

I never understood why people feared dentists so much, but most of my life I haven’t had any serious tooth problems, so maybe it’s that I didn’t have the opportunity to experience the other side, the darker side, of dentists.

I’ve had one tooth that has been a problem my whole life. Even the baby tooth that used to be in the same place was a problem. I progressed from a traditional metallic filling which lasted from my teen years through much of my twenties, then I got a white filling which cracked after several years, and finally got a crown about three or four years ago. The crown never felt completely right, but it didn’t really hurt, so I just dealt with it. Over the last few months, however, I’ve been experiencing intermittent flare-ups in the tooth with sensitivity to cold drinks, throbbing if I exert myself wrestling with the boys, and the like for a few days at a time. I decided to get it checked out at the next cleaning I had scheduled, which was yesterday.

I get a call in the morning to inform me that my hygienist is ill, so they are canceling my cleaning, but I can still come in to see the dentists 15 minutes later than when I was originally supposed to see him. Swiss medical professionals generally take their schedules pretty seriously. Had I called up to cancel just 2 hours before my appointment, you can be assured I would’ve been made to feel that they were quite put out, reminded that the time was specifically set aside for me, possibly told about their policy requiring 24 hours notice for a cancellation, and maybe even charged for the missed appointment. On the flip side, it is not uncommon at all for those same Swiss professionals to call us to cancel/reschedule an appointment on the same day. I think sometimes it’s just because we’re the last appointment and the entire office wants to leave early on a beautiful, sunny day. I’m not joking. Even arriving late can start you off on the wrong foot with the reception staff

So, I arrive a little early, fearing that if I actually arrive at the new time of 11:30 rather than the original time of 11:15, I’d be blamed for misunderstanding they’d get all gitchy on me. After 10 minutes in the waiting area, they inform me that they’re running behind and there is no room for me on this floor and can I please go outside and up the stairs to their next level. Okay. I do that and ring the bell, because both doors are always locked so you need to be buzzed in, and the same woman from the 1^st floor opens the door to let me in. I said, “Oh, it’s you! That was fast.” She giggles a little and then asks me to sit in the 2^nd floor waiting room. So, apparently they had a staircase inside that connected the two floors of their office, but patients are required to exit the office and come back in through the buzzer. Curious.

They finally escort me to a room and the doctor arrives a few minutes later to speak with me. He asks if I am certain the pain is coming from that tooth and I assure him that I’m pretty sure, so he digs at it until I wince in pain and then says the only way to know for sure is to take an x-ray. If it was the only way to know for sure, then why the heck did he…ahh, never mind. So we get the x-ray and wait a little longer. Then he brings it in to discuss. As you know, these x-rays are the size of matchbooks. He points to the top of the tooth in question, up in the gum line, and says “Something is going on here with the nerve. Yes, definitely.” But he didn’t sound like it was a definitely, he sounded like he was trying to talk himself into it. I looked at the matchbook and it all looked the same color grey to me. But he’s the trained professional.

He asks again about the age of the crown and explains that sometimes a new crown can damage the root and, over the course of the next few years, it will die back and then people will complain about it. Don’t ask me how a dead nerve can cause pain because I’m not the trained professional. Then one of his attendants bring him a very small cylinder of ice or an ice-cold metal cylinder. I didn’t get a good look at it before he stuck it in my mouth. He puts it on one tooth and I cringe from the cold, then on the tooth in question and no pain, then on the next tooth and I cringe in cold pain, then to another part of another tooth - pain, then back to the tooth in question – nothing. Unconvinced, he tries this on, what seems, every tooth in the upper right side of my mouth, bumping back to the tooth in question from time to time. “Are you sure that doesn’t hurt?” Yeah, I’m sure.

“Okay, so this is what we’re going to do,” as he continues looking at the matchbook to convince himself. “The nerve is mostly dead in that tooth, so we will perform a root canal to dig out all that dead material, inject it with special medicaments, and then finish it in a couple weeks.”

“You mean, today?” I asked. Remember, I only expected this to be a consultation and we’d schedule a later appointment to actually conduct any procedures. “Yes, we have time. We will take you now and drill a hole to get started, then fill it, and schedule a follow-up appointment.” I look at my watch, “But I have to pick up my sons in one hour from school.” He replies, “Oh, this will only take a half hour. And, in two weeks, we will look at that crown, and decide what to do. This will be expensive, but when we’re done you will have a perfect tooth.” Yes, he actually told me it would be expensive, but not exactly what that meant. If you’ve ever purchased anything in Switzerland, you know that their idea of ‘expensive’ is probably impressive. “O-okay. If you think so.” And then the move me to another room.

He tells me, “I don’t think we will need anesthetic because the nerve is probably dead.” I thought he was joking. If I thought he’d understand English sarcasm, I would’ve replied that I’m sure he won’t need any anesthetic, but that “probably dead” wasn’t good enough for me. Instead, I just looked at him a few seconds, chuckled, and said “If you’re sure”. To re-assure me, he said, “If you feel any pain, you just tell me.” “Oh, you can count on it,” I replied.

So, then they strap this balloon-like patch of rubber with a small hole off to one side surrounded by a tiny rubber band, to my tooth and stretch it across my mouth to ensure that I won’t be able to intelligibly tell anyone anything. That’s when the pain began. They slid the tiny rubber band over my tooth and shoved it up under my gum line. When I cringed, he explained that “it will hurt a little, but you’ll soon get used to it”. I am not making any of this up. But I’d soon learn that this was just foreplay. The truth was, when the real pain started, a two-sizes too small rubber band under my gums was negligible. There is pain and there is PAIN!

Then the drilling started. I tell you, I expected intense, bone-jarring pain as soon as he broke through to the center and hit the nerve. But I was mistaken. The drilling was nerve-racking, but endurable. It was when he actually grabbed the exposed nerve with a pair of tweezers or some other instrument of torture that I nearly swallowed my tongue!

The dentist’s training obviously included awareness of body language, because when I gurgled through the balloon & spit-sucker and arched up on my heels, he said “Okay, anesthetic then.” Apparently, it only took him a few seconds to apply the anesthetic, because in less than a minute he said, “You may feel a little pressure”, and returned to work. Hah! A little pressure my ass!

Let me try to explain the feeling. The best description is that it felt kind of like someone grabbing hold of a raw, “mostly dead” nerve branch with a piece of metal and trying to pull it taut so he can cut it up near the base. I arch and gurgle and my hands are sweating something fierce and he says, “Hmm, the anesthetic is not working.” You think?

I understand that English is not his first, probably not even his second, language, but obviously those words mean something different to him then they do to me. To me, if the anesthetic isn’t working, that means that we should pause a moment, apply some more anesthetic possibly with a needle up in the gum line like they do in industrialized countries in the 21^st century. To him, it was apparently just a statement of how unfortunate the situation was and that we should soldier on through.

The mild pain was like a really intense version of that uncomfortable sensation you get if you chew on aluminum foil, the moderate pain was like an ice cube held against my teeth, and the intense pain felt remarkably like someone handling my exposed nerves with metal tools. At one point, they took a break to take an x-ray to judge the length of some pins or needles or something and I felt the dull throbbing pain that had brought me to the place in the first place and thought, that was nothing. If I had known what was in store for me, I probably wouldn’t have said anything. They pulled the balloon aside so I could hold the x-ray slide in place with a finger. It was during the x-ray that my mobile phone first went off. It had been far longer than half an hour already. Sonofabitch! Their time is precious to them, but mine is… ahh, nevermind.

My German isn’t great, and my Swiss German is even worse, but I clearly understood the words “This is not good” when he looked at the developed film. Oh, Shit! What now?

Fortunately for me, “This is not good” was a reference to the quality of the x-ray, and not the condition of my mouth. They took another x-ray, convinced that I didn’t hold my finger still enough the first time I’m sure, and it came out positive. They got the measurements they needed and then proceeded to inflict more pain and drilling. I gurgle and arch again at one point, to which he asks “Can you feel that?” What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I can feel it! I wasn’t trying to harmonize with the drill, you son of… ah nevermind.

At times like this I reflect on how remarkably fragile the human body is. I stand over 6’3” and weigh over 200 pounds, but a tiny little tooth and a tiny little nerve brought me to me knees. Well, not literally to my knees. It was mostly on my heels and elbows, but you get the picture.

My phone kept ringing and I kept receiving text messages from Steph who had another appointment to get to at 1:30 and was afraid I wouldn’t be in time to pick our boys up from their respective pre-schools at 1:00. He explained that he is sorry the anesthetic didn’t work. Apparently the nerve was really inflamed up at the top and, wouldn’t you know it, it was only “mostly” dead. It seems that “mostly” dead nerves can still feel pain. He mentioned something about ph and such, but the reason didn’t really matter. I had survived.

When they finished, I asked if there are any special instructions for eating or cleaning or pain relief. He said, “No. We’ll see you in two weeks. If it hurts, you just call me any time.”

“Well, should I have some pain reliever or something?” I asked. I’m not making this up… he said, “Probably not. It should hurt for one or two days. This is normal. But if it hurts longer, you call me by 4:00 tomorrow. I’ll be here. Someone’s always here until 4:00 on Friday.”

Just so I was clear, I wanted to restate my understanding of my options in the event that I experienced pain. “So, it should hurt for one or two days and that’s okay, but if it hurts for more than two days, I should call you. Except, that you all go home tomorrow at 4:00 for the weekend, so if I experience pain over the weekend, then I should just tough it out until Monday? Is that right?” “Yes. Do you have pain killer?” was his response. “Do you mean, like Ibuprofen? I have plenty of ibuprofen.” I replied. I am an American, after all. “Good. So let’s look at the schedule for two weeks.” Who says the Swiss don’t have a sense of humor?

I get on the schedule for exactly two weeks and now have just 10 minutes to get home to get the car, then drive out to two different schools to pick up my boys on time. I explain that I left my coat in the other waiting room on the other floor, so the dentist tells me to go back out in the hall and down and someone will buzz me in. Sonofa… So, I collect my coat and then head out.

Steph had called again in the midst of the second round of x-rays and I was able to answer her through the balloon and spit-sucker. She asked if I wanted her to bring me the keys to save time. I said yes, but the pain kept me from thinking clearly. I thought she meant she was going to drive the car up to the dentists office (which is just a 7min walk from home) and drop the keys at the desk. It was a miscommunication. She has only driven once in Switzerland with me beside her and I should’ve known what she meant, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. When I exited the building, I looked about for the Volvo and saw her walking across the street. She handed me the keys and said the car was still in the garage at home and she was on her way to the tram. Oh, geez!

So, I jogged home and was surprised that the jarring didn’t rack my jaw with pain, but I guess the nerve cannot conduct any pain signals if it’s sitting in a mushy clump in a tray at the dentist’s office. I’m huffing and puffing and I have 5min left. I make quite an entrance when I zip into the parking lane at Asher’s school. Unfortunately, all the kids, teacher, and parents were waiting outside around the bend. I didn’t get close to anyone, but I sure looked like a reckless father, especially with the rock music on loud and the windows down. I’m sure I reaffirmed some American or stay-at-home stereotypes in their minds.

One of Aidan’s Swiss teachers called my mobile to say she could drive him home, but I arrived just as they were about to pull out. I explained to her that it was the dentist and she immediately responded in disgust, “Oh, the dentists are always late.” I didn’t know any Swiss were ever late, at least by their own admission, but now I know better.

That was my day.