Monday, September 17, 2012

Perhaps a new career path?

By Jeff Orvis

I've recently resumed in earnest my job search. Since I still have about three years before I could claim the minimum Social Security, I've got to get busy. As I've been thinking about what I might be qualified to do, a unique idea popped into my head.

I could become a certified human backdrop.

No I didn't stay doorstop. And yes, I will continue to hold the door for folks who I encounter in entrances to buildings.

So just what is a human backdrop? As we've seen endless appearances by our presidential candidates, there is quite often a common factor. As the candidate speaks to his supporters, there's usually a bunch of folks standing behind him. We can't be sure that everyone in that crowd supports the speaker, but usually they are carrying signs of support or are wearing t-shirts supporting their man, or both. I could do that. For the right price, I could even do it, without laughing out loud, for the guy I don't support...but only for a few minutes.
Campaign rallies are only the tip of the iceberg. I recall one day when President Obama was addressing some folks in the White House on the subject of health care. Everyone in the audience and those behind him were wearing doctors' coats! It looked like the White House staff had pulled a bus up to the front door of a major hospital in the Washington area and ordered everyone with a white doctor's coat onto the bus for a free tour of the White House and a quick meet-and-greet with the top man.

I realize it might be a stretch for anyone to think I could look like a doctor. But it seems that at least once a week, the President makes a public statement on law enforcement, education, the economy, etc. and there's usually a group of common, ordinary folks standing behind him. I could pretend to be an ordinary guy, for the right price.

When you watch the evening news and there's a report of some natural disaster somewhere, the mayor or governor of the affected area is usually flanked by a bunch of folks, presumably government officials or law enforcement people. Some are in uniform, many are not. A few are usually asked to speak to the assembled media, but some just stand there until the news conference is over. I could stand there and look concerned and on top of the situation, as long as nobody asked me any questions.

This practice is probably as old as TV. The people who make a living making a public figure look good early on discovered that in an era where the average attention span of a typical viewer is somewhere around 30 seconds, filling up the screen behind their guy would give him some instant credibility.

“If all those people behind this guy believe him when he says the world is flat, it must be true!”

Some folks who are familiar with my past ask me why I don't try for a careeer in TV news. My instant response is that I long ago realized that I have a face (and body) for radio or print media, not the screen. So maybe I should keep on looking for something else to do. Besides, I really don't like to travel very far and a credible human backdrop would probably spend a lot of times in airplanes.

Now, on to another topic. If you are a Quad-City area high school football fan and were watching the late night sports report on Friday, there was a story that undoubtedly brought you from your possible drowsy state. For those of us who are proud alumni of Pleasant Valley High School, it was a shock: Pleasant Valley 38, Bettendorf 0.

It was the first time Bettendorf had been shut out in six years, it's worst conference defeat in history and the worst loss it had experienced since 1970. The Spartan win came after 12 straight losses to the Bulldogs.
“This win was for all the PV players past and present,” PV linebacker Dallas Carter was quoted as saying after the game. Truer words were never spoken.

Back in the late 1960s, Pleasant Valley was a new football program. We had convinced some schools like Camanche, Northeast of Goose Lake and Clinton St. Mary's to play us. But perhaps no game was more anticipated than an October encounter with the Bettendorf JV team. The Bulldogs had agreed to play their JV against our more inexperienced varsity on the Bettendorf field. I was a manager on that team. Since it was just a few miles to the field, our guys suited up and boarded the bus. That's when the snow began to fall. It was one of those early snowstorms, with big, wet flakes. We sat there for a few minutes, wondering where our coaches were.

Soon, the coach boarded the bus and said, “Boys, I've got some bad news. Bettendorf just called and canceled the game. They don't want their field to get chewed up in this wet weather.” I thought there would be a full-scale riot. I've never seen a team as upset, especially before the first kickoff. Our guys had no choice than to climb off the bus, change clothes and go home. We didn't have a lighted football field yet, so there was no other alternative.

As the years went by, the Bulldogs went their way and we went our way, until the two schools grew closer to similar enrollment and became members of the same conference. That led to a decade of disappointment and Bettendorf dominance until last Friday night.

I realize that most of the officials of the two schools who made the decision to cancel that game more than four decades ago are long gone. But I'd like to think that our coaches from back then are smiling this week.

So, congratulations to the 2012 Spartan football team. Decades of alumni salute you!

Saturday, September 8, 2012

The journey ends and another begins

By JEFF ORVIS

She was supposed to live to be 100.

When we had my mom's 80th birthday celebration in February, the talk was that next major milestone would be a good time for another big bash. We knew she was slowed by some arthritis that caused her to use a walker. But she didn't let that slow her down in the ensuing months as she continued with her church work, worship and study, looking after her flowers and occasionally engaging me in an evening political debate.

None of us could have imagined that little more than five months after that birthday celebration, she would be facing the first of three major abdominal surgeries in a month, two weeks of frustrating and grueling rehab and ultimately, her last glorious voyage.

Mom, Waneta Orvis-Mosier, died last Tuesday. We had her funeral today (Saturday). She was laid to rest on top of the hill, next to my dad, at Pleasant Valley Cemetery.

When we took her to the emergency room at Trinity Medical Center-Bettendorf on July 29, a quick evaluation and some tests indicated the need for immediate surgery. The word went out and soon we had about a dozen family and close friends filling the surgical waiting room. That was a long night, but the wonderful surgeon came out after more than two hours of surgery to carefully explain just what he had to do to repair the injury.

A week later, we moved her to a local care center for what she realized would be rigorous rehabilitation. Her aim at that point was to quickly regain the strength she needed to get around with that walker and return to an active life. But her appetite was next to non-existent. Dehydration set in and that, coupled with an alarming (and virtually undetected) spike in her potassium level caused a return to the hospital. Two more surgeries in the span of 48 hours were required. This time, she was placed on a respirator. When it was determined that another major infection had set in, it was soon apparent that her body was wearing out.

I realize that many of you have had relatives that have faced major health problems. I detail what Mom experienced mainly for those who have asked me what caused her to go from a vibrant, smiling, loving mother, grandmother and great-grandmother to critical condition within such a short time.

It's been said that Mom had the mind and spirit of a 40-year-old in the body of an 80-year-old. She loved her family, friends and especially her church family. The first Christmas I was home after moving from Belle Plaine, we had a huge blizzard on Christmas Eve. Although authorities pleaded with motorists to stay home, she was determined to drive across the city to her church. I tried to remind her that God was everywhere and He would find her in our condo as quickly as he could when we got stuck on the side of a snow-covered city street.

Since it was Christmas, I said I would ride along, but I was NOT driving! In fact, I had plans on curling up on the floor of the front seat until we got there. When we did arrive at the church, some of her friends were amazed that I had not volunteered to drive. I just told them that it was entirely her idea and they quickly understood.

I've learned a lot in the last five weeks. After taking for granted that we had a new hospital just down the road, I learned there are many dedicated, compassionate health care professionals working there. Most of the nurses and CNAs I encountered were certainly not only more knowledgeable, but stronger than I am!

I learned how understanding my sister's employers are as they allowed her to travel to Iowa twice in a month for extended stays and how loving and understanding her husband has been as he balanced holding the household together in Florida, watching an active three-year-old (his grandson) as his daughter (my niece) recovered from some scheduled surgery. All this, and more, as he serves as an interim pastor at a church in St. Augustine.

Mom would be pleased to know that her passing enabled me to become better aquainted with my awesome niece and nephew and great-nephew (that active three-year-old who already shows that he has a heart of gold just like his mom and uncle).

I learned that Mom was loved and respected by a whole host of people in this area. Through those final days, I was reminded again and again by her pastor and mine that Mom was ready for that final journey. I have no doubt she had the best seat in the house today as we all celebrated her life.

I've never held the hand of someone as they took there last breath. Everybody has been concerned about how I'm doing. Mom needs to know that I listened to her and later to those two wonderful pastors and when she took that last breath, nine hours after the respirator was removed, my first thought was not one of sorrow, but a thought of celebration for a wonderful life and her even more wonderful eternal future.

There will undoubtedly be some rough days and weeks ahead, as I wrestle with this loss and look ahead to my future. But she seemed to know that I would come out okay. She prepared me well and pointed me in the right direction. I just need to remember that.