...A Higher Power

Back in 1994 the music world was reeling from the death of Kurt Cobain who as the former lead singer of the band, Nirvana was rocketing to fame. The 80's were the decade of New Wave, Modern Country, Hair Metal and Punk. The 90's were having no part of that and thus the combined influences somehow spun off the Grunge movement. Cobain was considered one of the more notable singer/songwriters of Grunge and his death left a hole in the genre for many. At nearly the same time, the sports world was stunned that its once-loved football star, O.J. Simpson had "allegedly" killed his wife and an acquaintance and was about to stand trial for it...  and a young saxophonist from Arkansas who spent his days as a politician there had become the 42nd president of the United States. Despite all of that, the past always seems so much more innocent. Funny how the emotions and shock are filtered by time. 

Were those times more simple... or were we simply enjoying the ignorance of youth and the oblivious to the grit of life?

At this point in my life, I was living in San Antonio and to get right to the point, I had nothing to do with Church. I was stationed at Kelly Air Force Base (Security Hill) and although I had tried to attend the local on-base church service, just wasn't "feeling it." I had been part of a family that was faithful to the Catholic traditions and made it to all the special services. I started early as an altar boy and although I was painfully shy and feared even eye contact with the priests, I did my best, and rather enjoyed the feeling of responsibility and accomplishment. The whole experience, though, was tarnished when two priests, on two separate occasions, made unwanted physical contact. As I mentioned above, the emotions and shock have long since passed. I have seen neither since and from what I know, one died and the other fled to Canada to avoid charges. It might sound surprising, I have forgiven them... but the damage left me with little respect for a church that had failed to address the issue and as such, I left the church. At this moment in time, I was focused on my career, passions and my future.

I was running a classic car collection, working full-time for USAA in the media department and struggling to help my young wife figure her place in the world. I was married once before. While we had the best of intentions, I feel we were rushed into marriage by her mother. We both were just too immature to be married and so we did what we vowed, just a couple of years before, we would never do. Divorce. It was a "no-fault" divorce, meaning we just picked and chose what was ours, split the rest and went our separate ways. We were both in our 20's, and I believe we would have been better off as friends but the pace of life was starting to speed up and we felt it was drawing us in different directions. We mutually agreed to part ways, and I moved back home to start life over. 

My Dad, a true renaissance type, the epitome of the Do-It-Yourselfer was soft-spoken and wise. He didn't push me to do anything in particular but encouraged me to get back to living life despite my semi-depressed state. Not a true depression but more of a feeling that I had failed and the move had cut short my previous career. My parents lived on a quiet place in the country and the fresh air and peaceful slice of nature was soothing to the soul but my Dad was right, although I needed time to process it all, sitting at home was not the answer. At the encouragement of both my Dad and my brother, Steve, I started working out at a local YMCA. In doing so, I built up my confidence and generally felt better about life.

 As you can imagine, not having a job and trying to restart your life doesn't go well so I began searching for a job. I had always wanted to be an engineer but a lack of self-confidence from dyslexia gave me a fear of the math courses that often were a filter for engineering students. I had spent two years at U.T.S.A. taking basic courses and some engineering classes. I loved it. AutoCad was the choice for several of my courses and mastering it came natural to me. I ventured into 3D CAD work and found myself using AutoCad's 3D Studio product. Creating 3D objects and then applying textures was math and engineering mixed with a healthy dose of art. The imagination was the limit and while other folks my age were out partying and clubbing, I built custom workstations both desktop and portable that allowed me to work on projects both at home and at work. At the time of the divorce, what once was a hobby, was cut short when I had to sell off my 3D computer equipment to cover a few bills. I sold everything except one portable workstation. It sat in a box for a couple of months during the course of the divorce and subsequent move back home. I still had a passion for my 3D work but necessities of life had sidetracked my hobby, that is, until I watched a newscast for a local TV station in Victoria.

Now, before I talk about KAVU, let me preface this by saying that poor management of that station had put it into bankruptcy and literally, the doors were chained shut until a new owner came forward. While he had brought the station back to life, it was still going to be a long road as much of the equipment was in disrepair. The heart of the people working there was golden as they made do with what they had. Watching local news on a few occasions, I saw painfully aged graphics for both commercials and during the newscast. What would have passed for quality work in the 80's was woefully outdated by 1994. Again, by no means am I critiquing the work but I am just mentioning that the gear they were working for was outdated and then... a spark. I could do high-resolution, full-color 3D and 2D work and my curiosity won when I called the station and talked to the chief engineer. I simply asked if I could swing by and show them some of my work with the hope that maybe they would offer to pay me to redo some of their station branding/logos on a contract basis. The date and time were set and I prepped some samples, packed up my portable computer (example seen below) and took off for the station.

I arrived around 4 PM at KAVU's studios and parked in the back. As I walked up to the back entrance, as instructed, two sheriff's deputies opened the door and escorted a man in handcuffs to a waiting vehicle. I wasn't quite sure what to think of it all but waited until they left and then knocked on the door. One of the master control operators opened the door and after a brief conversation, I learned that the man I was supposed to meet was the same man who had just left in handcuffs. I was a little desperate and the station employee I was talking with was kind, so she called the production manager over and we talked. He expressed interest but said that with the engineer gone, he couldn't make any decisions but wanted to see my work. After finding a PC with a color VGA monitor, something rare in that station, we demo'd my work and the enthusiasm in the room was satisfying. It felt good to hear and see people appreciate something I had created. Going through a divorce leaves you with very little of that and a lot of self-worth questioning. The production manager apologized and said he would love to work with me but with no engineer, couldn't make that decision himself but fate and faith came together. A job offer. Would you be interested in running cameras during the newscast? I hesitated as I had never done studio work before. I told him I could learn. I grabbed an application and was on my way. My heart wasn't hard and knowing I had a paycheck in a couple of weeks felt good. I didn't want to just give away my talents for 3D graphics which were made from hard work but I figured it could only help this struggling station and its good-hearted, hard working staff. 

The cameras were on free-floating tripods that rolled around the studio with relative ease. Nowadays, heavy robotic camera mounts are used but back then and specifically for that cash-poor station, the equipment was simple. Simple also meant easy-to-learn and through the help of a fellow camera operator, I soon was setting shots for over-the-shoulder graphics and such. My first two weeks passed by and it was the night before my first payday. We had just finished the 6pm newscast. It was late Fall and as I walked out to get something to eat, I realized I didn't have a dime on me. I had spent the last of my cash on gas for the trip to and from the station. My folks place was a 45 minute trip and despite the good gas mileage my parent's little Toyota truck loaned to me, I still found myself out of cash after filling the tank, earlier that day. I was hungry and remembered that we used the ashtray for storing all the loose change we had left over. A hungry and humbled young man pulled the ashtray and counted out the quarters, dimes and numerous pennies. Not more than two dollars in change came out of that ashtray. I walked next door to a friendly little chicken restaurant. With my loose change, I bought a medium drink and a four pack of biscuits that cost me $1.83. Honestly, it was one of the best meals I had experienced in months. A fond memory I will likely never forget but more importantly, that meal had significance.

I had given up my previous life in San Antonio, with paychecks from working at USAA, managing a classic car collection and computer software work on the side. Buying a meal in my "former life" was something I never gave a second thought but on that night, I reflected on how I had gone through nearly a complete change in my life and soon would be making a living in a completely different career. I honestly had no idea what I would do next but for that night, I knew I had a job, a paycheck and somehow a new life. I had... hope. As traffic sped by on the nearby street, I savored the biscuits and drank my drink slowly. The moment wasn't lost and the significance was recognized and appreciated. 

I soon became friends with the news anchors including the new meteorologist fresh out of the Texas A&M Meteorology school. My first two weeks were a crash course in TV newscasts. I was mature enough to do my job carefully making as few mistakes as possible. The news anchor was not only forgiving but welcomed my efforts to "get it right". The meteorologist though, was a little more quiet. He was struggling with the ancient computer set up to do weather. I was stunned at how much difficulty was placed on him just to put together a simple three minute weather forecast. He was obviously knowledgeable about the weather but translating it into the graphics and elements required, took a full two hours. Since I was due at the station around 4 PM each day, I had a couple of hours before each newscast to prep the studio. The weather equipment and, of course, the weatherman were located within the studio. 

Slowly, we began conversations and soon became fast friends. He didn't complain about the process for setting up weather but it was obvious to me that software and hardware had advanced to the point where his efforts were not necessary. The station had inherited an old Amiga 2000 computer. No upgrades, just the original base system with a 2400 baud modem. Even in 1994, this 7 year old computer was woefully out of date and the modem was laughable. It took better than 30 minutes to download a couple of basic weather graphics which were created in 4 colors. For somebody like me who built 3D graphics in 24 bit color, seeing this was painful. I was just the camera guy so I kept my comments and opinions to myself but on several, well many occasions, I found myself helping fix the old computer and eventually was offered the opportunity to finish up the weather graphics while the weatherman was prepping for his live weather updates in the evening news. It felt good to be useful to him and we got along well enough that we ended up going to the gym on the same days just for the conversations.  

A couple of months passed and one day the weather guy(his name was Todd Fries (pronounced Freeze) asked me to come over to the weather desk. He asked me about some of the classes I had taken in college. I had taken a few speech classes to help overcome severe shyness. I had also taken a geology class so I kinda knew where everything was on a map. He then mentioned that I "obviously knew the weather equipment" and then told me the weekend weather anchor had quit. He needed help and knew the station wouldn't be able to find a replacement in two short weeks. At first, I said I would think about it. It was a huge step for me. I had never done anything on camera and while I did take pride in dressing neatly and keeping myself groomed(something I picked up in the Air Force), going on-camera, even in a small TV market was a daunting challenge  downright frightening. I accepted the opportunity as long as he would help me with the basics. I bought several books on weather and studied them with every waking moment. I practiced on the blue chromakey wall and then the big weekend came. Not only was this the first weekend after the other weather anchor had quit, it was also the weekend that our meteorologist had chosen for his bachelor party. His Dad and brothers were headed to the coast. It was just a fishing trip but since his brothers and Dad were flying in, the plans just couldn't be changed. My first day on air would be a solo effort.

I arrived early and got the forecast graphics built early. All went well and then it was lights on and news time. 15 minutes into the newscast and the weekend news anchor turned to me for a "toss" to weather. My co-anchor suffered a painful stuttering problem and she nearly memorized her scripts and even our short transition, so that it went smoothly. She did a wonderful job and most people would probably never have guessed. I guess we both were at a disadvantage, that night, but it was now my turn as the director switched from our "two shot" to my weather graphics. I walked over to the weather chromakey wall and continued talking but soon realized I wasn't on the wall... the director was having difficulties and on my first night on TV, I was not on TV. The floor crew of camera and teleprompter operators whispered and motioned to me that I would have to finish off-camera so I walked back to the desk, sat down and finished up the weather, nervously and somewhat quickly but with a determination not to fail. After the newscast, I thought about this new effort on my 45 minute drive home. I thought about my "past life" and how far I was from my ex-wife. I thought of it as something that must have been similar to what the astronauts thought as they made their way to the moon. I had no idea what would happen but for that night, I had conquered my challenge.

The following Sunday night went off without a hitch and I was on camera and got through the forecast with a little less fear. The following Monday, I was asked to do the next weekend and from there, I continued doing weekends for nearly 3 months until one day, our meteorologist told me he had taken a job in another city. I would have to do both weekday and weekend weather until they found a replacement. While it might seem like that wouldn't be a big deal in most stations, this station not only did not have a news director but the general manager was absent most days. I never knew for sure why but she struggled with her own demons and her absence meant I was going to be doing all the weather forecasts for a while. A month passed and the owner of the station flew in. I was called in to his office. This man of short stature, who often bragged about giving Rush Limbaugh his first job, had a voice that barreled about like a giant. He told me he liked what I was doing and asked if I would be interested in the job permanently. I answered in the affirmative and probably in a voice just louder than a mouse. I was intimidated by this man. He owned two dozen stations and I was quite sure I was only a dot on his radar but I vowed to do my best. The job paid $17k per year which was pitiful even for that market but I was glad for the increased income. I continued to study and began classes at Mississippi State which had a mail-based "broadcast meteorology" program. 

We eventually tasked a new reporter with the weekend weather duties and thankfully that smart young lady was a quick learner and my worries about weekends were over.

I might add that as soon as I was offered the full time job, I had made a request. Could I work a trade-out with a local computer company for hardware and software in exchange for commercial time. TV stations love offering commercial time in trade for gear. I orchestrated the effort with a local computer company and soon I had new computers, monitors and much faster modems. I re-negotiated our deal with Accuweather to get rid of those old 4 color maps and was able to get high-resolution 3D graphics that I could overlay over local maps I had built. Since I had experience in 2D work, I rebuilt the entire graphics package using software that was meant for display systems in airports and casinos(Scala mm200 for my nerd friends). What once took 2 hours to build, now took 15 minutes. My weather maps were downloaded in minutes instead of half an hour and now I had updated radar maps... something we previously didn't have. Yes, previously, when we had rain in the local area, we could only download a single map every 15 minutes. Painful, to say the least, and I was ecstatic to be able to bring the upgrades to our viewers. Below is a video of my early days, filmed by my girlfriend at the time, Kathy... who would eventually be my wife.

You will notice in the video that we painted the wall green. The blue was a hard color to key because I liked wearing blue ties. Green ties were more rare so one day, we switched. You might notice in the video that the weather graphics had a strong "Texas" and western feel. Yep, I got to design and build them however I liked. You have a lot of freedom with that and that was the beauty of working in a small market TV station. You have to use your creativity.

Ratings periods came and soon we saw our local numbers increasing in twofold, threefold and fourfold results. Eventually, our sales folks would stop by and ask about sponsorship. It was a good feeling of synchronicity to see my efforts help others in the station.

I tell you the story of my exit from one "life" to my "new life" in the TV business because it a.) lets you know that, yes you can survive what seems to be a devastating end and b.) it brought me closer to my Dad which was very important as I would soon find out. I originally titled this chapter, "Ethereal" and that's what it seemed like looking back on my transition through divorce and my new career in TV... but I had no idea how much more I would experience that would bolster my belief in God, an afterlife and spirituality.... so I relabeled it.

All the while, during the divorce and transition into this TV business, I had been softly supported by my Dad who I would have lunch with on a regular basis. Whataburger hamburgers, fries, Dr. Peppers and more importantly, great conversation. Yes, we Whatasized it! My Dad had a way of cutting right to the point but in a non-blunt manner that made you feel at ease discussing tough subjects. He had a subtle urgency in his efforts. These lunchtime chats would become even more important when, shortly after I was offered the permanent position for main weather anchor, my Dad informed me that a recent cough he had suffered turned out to be a rare and aggressive form of lung cancer. Somehow, that man took it in stride and prepared us for his passing. 

We kept up our regular lunchtime visits but as I now had a girlfriend (Kathy), they were fewer and farther apart, so each meeting became, unbeknownst to me, a vital part of his preparation for his passing. At probably 5 or 6 lunchtime chats, my Dad was careful to describe certain aspects of life without him. Discussions about what would happen after he passed. Messages like "support your mother", "You're Mother is a "social butterfly", "she will meet somebody new, tell her I said it was OK to move on". How little did I know that he was dead on correct, even in his dying days. To this day... I regret not spending more time talking with my Dad. Absolute regret.

The doctors gave Dad 6 months but he proved them wrong by making it 7 months and he died without tubes, surgeries or chemo. Everyone from his doctors to the specialists from out of town agreed his form of cancer was very aggressive and surgeries and chemo would only torture him. He opted for mild pain meds and an oxygen tank. He wanted to die peacefully and after meeting with friends and family on as many occasions as he could make, he left this world one late October night. The lung cancer consuming his ability to breathe, he passed peacefully in his sleep.

I spoke to him one last time, on the evening before he passed. I was invited by the owner of the station to the local "Cattle Baron's Ball", a very ritzy event with $10,000 tables and a casino night. John Conlee, the country singer, was the guest musician. I was going to wear pressed Wrangers, boots and a tuxedo shirt/jacket combo. I couldn't find my matching belt and called out to see if I had left it at the ranch. I talked to my upbeat Dad, weakened by the conversations he had that day as old friends stopped by. I don't recall the specifics of the conversation other than he was at peace.

The evening was interesting as I saw the rich and successful enjoy the charity event but by midnight, I felt it was time to go. An unknown urge, if you will. Kathy and I said our goodbyes and thank you's and headed to where limos were dropping folks off. I walked up to one and although he said he was not on duty, he would be happy to drive us back into town. Kathy and I got back into town, arrived back home and I had just gotten out of my tuxedo when the call came that my father had passed. My Mom's simple words, "He's gone" were all we needed to know. We made the solemn trek to the ranch. 

Dad knew I was now a TV weather anchor and had teased that once he passed, he would see to it that we ended a recent drought. On the night of his passing, a gentle rain began that lasted three days, until we buried him at the cemetery near our church. Since the place of his final resting was just about 100 yards from the church, we asked the hearse to take his casket and drive behind us as my Mother, my brothers and I made the walk. The rain had stopped during the church service as we walked to the cemetary on this Fall afternoon, the Sun peaked through the clouds. I was stricken with grief but found an internal humor from the thought that Dad had followed through with his effort to help out his weatherman son with the drought.

A few years passed and my Mom had made the recovery. My then girlfriend became my wife. Kathy and I had a son whom we named Michael Logan. Michael was my Dad's first name and although we wanted to honor his memory with the name "Michael", we used his middle name, "Logan" on a daily basis, since the loss of my Dad was still pretty painful in our hearts and minds.

One weekend, my Mom had decided to take a step back into the world and traveled off to visit her sister in another state. She had asked us to stop by her home and make sure everything was OK. It was a rather quiet Summer afternoon and while my wife tended to efforts around the house, Logan had ventured into my parents bedroom. From another room I heard him talking and I poked my head into my parent's bedroom, the place where my father passed in his sleep. There on the bed, was Logan... talking. Although I didn't catch the conversation, I was intrigued that he had been talking as if in a conversation, not just the jibber-jabber you would expect of a 1 year old. He was sitting on the side of the bed where my father breathed his last breath. I half-wittingly asked "who are you talking to?" and he plainly stated, "Grandpa Michael". I was rather surprised since we had not talked to him about my Dad. It was not only a tough subject for me but we just didn't think his little mind would understand such heavy subjects as death. For reasons I don't know and probably a very small part of me wanted to believe him, I asked, "What does he look like", and he pointed across the room to a rather small picture on a dresser. A 3" x 4" picture of my Dad sat in the far corner at the back of the dresser. This 1 year old child could not possibly have seen that picture as the dresser was at least a foot taller than he. We had not only never discussed my Dad but had never identified him in that picture.

I was stunned. I walked backward down the hallway and stopped at the doorway of my old bedroom where my wife was checking email on the computer. I told her what had happened and we both re-entered the bedroom where Logan sat quietly smiling. This would not be the last time he recognized someone from the past.

In 1998, I took a job with a TV station in a larger market, slightly better pay but an opportunity to grow in my knowledge and career. We rented a garage apartment from a cousin and settled in. Logan, an only child at the time, would spend his days building with blocks and reading books... and talking to his new imaginary friend, "Tina". Of course, Tina had to travel with us and we made sure he had a place to sit in our van and we always had to buckle him in. I say "him" because one afternoon, my cousin stopped by to visit. Standing at the top of the stairs, talking to Kathy, the kindly gentleman engaged in a quick conversation with Logan. "What are you doing?" he asked and Logan responded with, "Playing with my friend." Kathy explained that he had an imaginary friend and he spent his days playing with his friend. It made us just a tiny bit concerned that he had an imaginary friend but everyone told us it was normal so we entertained the idea. My cousin continued on by asking "What is your friend's name" to which my son replied "Tina". My cousin's face turned a lighter shade as a certain amount of disbelief came into his expression. "What does your friend look like" and with that, my son described a tall gentleman in a long dark jacket. He described his looks and mannerisms. My cousin was stunned as he turned to us and began to tell us that he once had an uncle who had stayed in the very same apartment. His name was "Totino" and was an old school Italian gentleman who was always impeccably dressed right down to his long black overcoat. Overwhelmed by the conversation, my cousin said his goodbyes and left. Simply put, we were all a little surprised and since we did not completely understand the events, never talked about it in open conversation.

As I had mentioned earlier, my Dad had talked about how my Mom would meet somebody new. He described her as a "social butterfly" and about two years after his passing, she became friends with one of the kindest gentleman I had ever met. He too had lost a wife suddenly, a few years prior. She had mentioned him occasionally but on one particular phone conversation, she asked if I would meet him. I agreed to have lunch and after picking and choosing from the buffet of a local restaurant, we sat down and he nervously started talking about the relationship he had with his wife. Nervous and at times, near tears, he described his life, the loss of his wife and how he had grown to appreciate and love my Mom. I could see that he was struggling through the conversation and I could tell where he was going with it and I stopped him and shared with him, a message from the past, from my Dad, who seemingly knew this day would come. I explained the lunchtime meetings where my Dad would tell me about things that would happen after he passed. I told him about what my Dad had said about my Mom and that he was telling me these things because he knew, as he was dying, she would be too distraught to understand or much less remember. I looked my future father-in-law in the eyes and told him, "Dad said this day would come and he's fine with it." I think that tidbit of information stunned him but with that, he knew both my Dad and I were comfortable with him. 

Years have passed, we've moved and our son has since grown into a young adult. We sometimes talk about it but he regretfully admits he doesn't remember much about it. Sure there are many who would laugh at our stories and I'm OK with that but the importance of all this, is that I realized there are events in this life that if we stop and take the time to examine them, prove to us that somehow, there is a greater power at work. Don't live life so fast that the details become a blur. There are subtle hints and evidence of a greater power all around us. My experience with Logan was something I felt too important not to keep to myself. I hope, if anything, that you will be more conscious of those mysterious little moments where the beauty of a higher power, reveals itself.