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!

The journey ends and another begins

By JEFF ORVIS

She was supposed to live to be 100.

When we had my mom's 80^th 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.

Dad's photographic legacy

By Jeff Orvis

If you are blessed to have had a good relationship with your parents, you know they will leave a part of themselves with you when they are gone. Sometimes it takes us years to realize just what that part may be. For some, it may be a hefty bequest or a thriving business. For others, it may be a positive mannerism you may not have even realized where it came from until you start exhibiting the same mannerism and you suddenly realize that Mom or Dad did or thought the same way.

In my recently enforced idle hours, I have started to attempt to preserve what I can only describe as my father's legacy. For much of his adult life, Dad worked in a lab at Alcoa, testing metal. As a sideline, he was a photographer, specializing in wedding photography. When his bosses at the plant learned he could use a camera, he was assigned the additional duties of plant photographer for the public relations department. I still remember those late Saturday mornings, watching him load that bulky Graphic camera, complete with the slide film holders and heavy tripod into the Buick for a trip to a wedding. Although he didn't attend many parties that weren't family-related, he seemed to thrive in the organized chaos of a wedding and reception.

Dad also like to fish, a passion that I only shared grudgingly. Living near the Mississippi River, he would often take a pole and drive over to the lock and dam and try to land enough panfish for a later dinner, stopping only when night fell or the mosquitoes won the war. When it came time for family vacations, one of our favorite destinations was north central Minnesota, where friends of my folks had a wonderful cabin overlooking Sylvan Lake near Brainerd. Mom and Dad continued these trips after my sister and I had left home. On one trip, I'm not exactly sure when this happened, as they headed north out of Minneapolis, instead of heading northwest toward Brainerd, they headed northeast toward Duluth and the Arrowhead region bordering Lake Superior.

That's where this legacy began to develop. The Arrowhead region of Minnesota, including the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, probably has some of the best fishing in the Midwest, if not the whole country. But it also has some of the best scenery available east of the Rockies. While Dad probably had the fishing pole in the car, he began packing a camera and plenty of film. They would jump in the car first thing in the morning from their cabin or motel room and try to get lost along the roads that jutted off of the famed Gunflint Trail.

When they returned home from these week-long excursions, they usually didn't bring many fish home, except for the wonderful smoked salmon they picked up from a rural outpost. But they did bring several rolls of spent film. A couple of weeks later, the mailman would deliver packages of 4 x 5 proofs showing some of the most wonderful Minnesota scenery – peaceful trails, raging streams, wonderful waterfalls and of course, that inland sea known as Superior.

The best time for photography in this area is late September, when the fall colors are at their peak. Since Mom was still working, Dad often took this trip by himself. In this era before cell phones, we would always spend an anxious week, praying that he wouldn't get lost or attacked by the black bears that were definitely in the area. In fact, one of the pictures he shot was accompanied by the story that he had this sense that he was being watched. In the shadows of one of the pictures, it could be argued that there was a bear lurking, watching him.

Another picture he shot is one we call the “ray” picture. As he was shooting the shore of Lake Superior, the sun was just in the right angle to create a ray of light shining from the top corner to the center of the frame. It was as if God was saying, “Well done!”

Dad has been gone for more than 30 years now. But he left behind binders full of these prints. In hopes of preserving his work, I have begun the time-consuming exercise of scanning these prints onto my computer, hoping to transfer them to DVD for more lasting storage. Dad was a man of few words, but I feel like he's talking to me with each picture I scan. He was not one to shy away from new technology, although it did take us several years to get our first color TV. As I scan these pictures, I can imagine what it would be like if he were still here. He would have been 85 years old this year. He would probably spend fall days capturing more spectacular scenes, undoubtedly with a digital camera. Then he would spend the snowy winter afternoons in front of a computer screen with a photo editing software program, making minor changes in his work in an attempt at perfection.

You may have heard that old joke about St. Peter giving a tour to new arrivals in Heaven. They come to a closed door and someone asks what's behind that door. St. Peter replies, “We've got to be quiet. Those folks in that room are all (insert a religion here). They think they're the only ones here.”

I can envision Dad walking down this corridor, passing the various religion rooms, along with rooms containing various political groups, etc. He's got a fishing pole in one hand and a camera in the other until he comes to the area where there's a small boat along a dock on a small lake in an area that looks a lot like a sunny Minnesota fall day.

He turns to St. Peter and says, “Thanks, I'm home now.”

Not your father's minor league ball park

By Jeff Orvis

The other night, I did something that I hadn't done for at least 20 years – I went to a minor league baseball game. I realize that those of you who know me may find this hard to believe. Much of my professional life, as well as free time, has been centered around sports. But with numerous high school teams to cover and my rabid interest in the Chicago Cubs, I just hadn't found time to make the effort to go to a minor league game.

On this night, the pastor of my mom's church was scheduled to throw out the first pitch at a Quad-City River Bandits game. 

The team was hosting a church night promotion and she was able to get tickets at a discounted price. Before the start of the game, the pastor even arranged for a short Bible study. He got the club to allow him to use one of the luxury suites for a few minutes. I thought maybe he was going to suggest that Abner Doubleday had been at the Last Supper, but instead he found an interesting Biblical reference to Bandits.

The River Bandits play in the Lower A Midwest League. Their park, Modern Woodmen Park, sits on the banks of the mighty Mississippi and has often been cited as one of the most picturesque parks in minor league baseball. The area has hosted a pro team since 1901, when the River Rats began play. Over the years, the name has changed, as has the major league affiliation. Some of the more colorful names for the local team have included the Riversides, Knickerbockers, Prodigals, Blue Sox, Quads and DavSox, as well as the names of several major league teams. The team has been affiliated with 10 big league teams over the years, starting with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1936. Their current affiliation is with the St. Louis Cardinals.

When I was much younger, I attended some games and other events at the old ball park. When the California Angels were the major league affiliation, our town was the first stop for one of the first “bonus babies,” a big, strapping outfielder who was signed for a $200,000 bonus. As I recall, he went on to play in the majors for a few years, but never quite made the Hall of Fame. I remember being one of the members of a capacity crowd who saw the California Angels big league club play our local Class A team in an exhibition. We also were there for a pro wrestling program and I was in the stands when the late, great Johnny Cash performed a free concert, at the invitation of a local clergyman.

When we attended games as kids, we would wait for somebody to foul off a pitch, then scramble to the top of the stands and look out through huge openings in the wall to see if the ball hit any cars. The stadium featured a great view, but the benches were uncomfortable and the stadium could be drafty.

My first thought when I stepped inside the stadium on my most recent trip was, “This certainly isn't your father's baseball stadium!” Over the years, it has undergone several renovations and the most recent is truly awesome! I already mentioned the luxury suites. For those with limited mobility, they were easily accessed via an elevator. When the elevator doors open, you are not met by the river breezes, but you step into a climate-controlled, carpeted lobby. Walk down a hall and you see doors to 20 suites on your right. To your left, is a large dining area, complete with linen tableclothes and silver. This area is available all year for special events. Each of the suites include comfortable seating inside, a TV and a kitchenette.

Back downstairs, where the common folk mingle, the old wooden benches have been replaced by individual seats. There's a stadium club behind the seats for those who would like to take a break from the action for some refreshment. There's a wide variety of concessions with plenty of attentive and helpful personnel ready to see to your every need. There's a huge TV screen in left field which offers replays, etc.

If you go to a minor league game expecting to see the next major league superstar, you may or may not succeed. The oldest kid on the River Bandits' team is 24. Many of them make no more than $1,200 per month. But the hopes, dreams and potential on that field is beyond measure.

At one time, baseball was thought to be America's game. Lately, stock car racing and football have shared that designation in the minds of many fans. But it's not difficult to see the argument put forth by baseball fans. The Davenport team is one of 16 teams in its league. There are 14 other teams in the other “Low A” class. Add to that 30 teams in three leagues in High A, 30 teams in three leagues in Class AA, 46 teams in three leagues in Class AAA, as well as 22 other teams in Short Season A Basll in two leagues, 18 teams in two leagues in Advanced Rookie ball, 69 teams in four leagues in Rookie ball and six more teams in one league in Fall ball. That's more than 250 minor league baseball teams playing in four countries. That's a lot of young men who undoubtedly all harbor the dream of being the next multi-million dollar star of a World Series champion.

Modern Woodmen Park may not be Wrigley Field. But it's a chance to wander in, grab a dog and a beer and be entertained for two or three hours without having to take out a second mortgage on your house for the privilege. The chance to see a future superstar is not guaranteed, but is offered as a bonus at no additional charge.

Both candidates miss an opportunity

By Jeff Orvis

We still have nearly six months before the presidential election and if what we've seen in the past few weeks is any indication, both major parties will be spending an obscene amount of money on ads trying to sell their man like he was a new and improved breakfast cereal.

The Republicans attempt to show what the first few days of a Romney presidency would be like. Please! The first three times gave me enough ammunition for a year's worth of bad dreams. The next few times you see the ad, ask yourself, “Where is there any mention of how a 'President Romney' would work with other countries?”

The president of the greatest nation on earth is not restricted to our country's borders, either ideologically or physically. Recent history (of three administrations) shows us that our president must travel abroad as readily as a major business executive. Of course, not many other executives travel with two 747s, a cargo plane carrying a limo and an entourage of more than 100 folks. But you get the general idea.

The Obama campaign is also out with repeating ads. These warm and fuzzy spots try to remind us that things are getting better, but they aren't good yet. The campaign is apparently trying to take the high road and has not chosen to directly refer to the past administration of the currently exiled George Bush. But there's still nearly six months left and who knows which direction either campaign will go?

In the past few weeks, both candidates fell short of what could have been very positive moments. Somebody uncovered the fact that Romney apparently was ahead of his time when he performed an act we might now call “bullying.” He didn't deny it, but said it was nearly 50 years ago and all but said “boys will be boys,” with no real compassion for the victim. He missed a golden opportunity to go on record against bullying. Many parents across this country, regardless of political preference, are becoming more and more concerned with how their kids are treated by others. I doubt Romney condones bullying. But he missed a chance to condemn it.

President Obama finally came out in favor of gay marriage. That was fuel for TV commentators for quite a few days after. But the president's statement sounded like a johnny-come-lately attempt to appease a certain segment of the population. He missed a golden opportunity to come out in favor of a more sensible federal civil union law. Regular readers of this column may remember that my position is that gay people who are in a committed relationship should have all of the legal rights of those who possess a “marriage” license. Many people connect that word “marriage” with a deep religious conviction. The government doesn't need to be in the marriage business. Civil union is a civil rights issue. Couples should be allowed to go to their courthouse and get a civil union certification, then if they wish, they could go on to a house of worship of their choice for a marriage.

Those are just a couple of thoughts on politics for today. I'll try to find something more pleasant to talk about next time. In the meantime, don't forget to check out the Alcoa Eagle Cam on the web. The three youngsters are peering over the edge of the nest and it won't be long now before they take flight!

Romney promises more jobs - how?

By Jeff Orvis

We've got about six months before we decide who will be the leader of the free world for the next four years. Now that the Republicans have somewhat unified and quit openly criticizing each other the Democrats can declare “open season” on Mitt Romney. It's going to be an interesting, brutal, wicked, insanely expensive six months. We can only hope that the last man standing won't be too bruised to lead us forward.

Both political parties seem to be banking on the notion that since we all live in a world of sound bytes, their message has to be brief and to the point and, hopefully, accurate. If you believe Romney, then I'd better get my work clothes rounded up, since I'll be assured of having a job on Jan. 21, 2013, if he's elected. 

Meanwhile, if Obama gets another term, the day after this whole tax inequity question is answered, we will all be in a better place, if you believe what he says.

One of the things that troubles me about Mitt Romney is his pledge that more jobs will be created if he's elected. There's that sound byte again. I have yet to hear anyone challenge him on how this is going to happen. As near as I can figure, his idea is to keep giving preferential tax treatment to the wealthy. He apparently figures that the rich folks, out of the goodness of their hearts, will use those tax savings to create jobs for the rest of us.

Pardon me if I'm a bit skeptical. We've seen this trickle down theory before and it just doesn't seem to work. I don't begrudge anyone who strives to be able to live a life of privilege. I just don't think that privileged life should be paid for on the backs of the rest of us. But I also don't think the government ought to penalize wealth with tax rates higher than the rest of us pay.

It would seem to me the best way to create jobs and reward business owners for job creation would be to first of all close some tax loopholes, make such things as property taxes on business property more equitable, then provide tax breaks to business owners when they hire more Americans. Instead of giving them the money up front in the form of unfair tax breaks, make them prove they are serious about improving the American job climate, then reward them for that good business sense.

A lot of us dream about what we'd do if we suddenly came into more money than we would ever need. If the folks from Publishers Clearing House come knocking on my door, I admit my first thought would not be “how can I go into business and hire a bunch of people?” I'd help family members, buy some things I want, then invest the rest of it in something safe, sound and conservative.

So if Romney is serious about this more jobs promise, he'd better let us know how this is going to happen. And it had better include something instead of simply cutting taxes for his rich friends.

Romney is apparently starting to look at who might be a suitable running mate. One word of caution for my Republican friends. Dick C heney has a new heart. Remember how well that went nearly a dozen years ago? Cheney was put in charge of a committee to find a vice presidential running mate for W. After several hours of exhaustive research, he had a devine revelation that he would be the ideal candidate. It will undoubtedly be years before we discover the full extent of the damage shadowy figure may have done when he was our vice president. At this writing, there might be a battery of constitutional attorneys researching whether he could run again as vice president. What a scary thought!

After the seemingly countless and pointless serious of debates by the Republican presidental wannabes I never thought I would say this. But I can't wait for the Obama-Romney debates. Obama is a great orator. Romney is slick. Romney will probably be armed with all sorts of economic statistics and accusations. His shortcomings will probably emerge when the President begins talking about world affairs.

How ever this turns out, we've only got about six months before we find out. Then the next day, the two parties will probably start looking ahead to 2016. Maybe it just seems that it never ends....

A hectic weekend for NFL fans

By Jeff Orvis

For parts of three days late last week, pro football fans were glued to the TV set, watching what amounted to a sophisticated slave auction. Thankfully, actual slave auctions ended in this country about 150 years ago. What I can remember from school studies and various movies is that these brutal events determined whether men and women would live or die and how they would be treated the rest of their lives, depending on their owners.

It might seem a stretch to compare slaves to potential pro football players. Slaves hoped and prayed that they would have a warm place to sleep and food to eat, while rookie football players who make their team's final roster will earn at least $390,000 their first year.

But as we watched the “experts” critique each draft pick on Thursday and Friday nights and Saturday afternoon, it wasn't difficult to notice some similarities in slave vs. pro athlete. As each draftee's name popped up on the screen, we heard a rundown of his physical attributes, his size, speed in the 40 yard dash, amount of weight he could lift in the weight room and what he did during his collegiate career that drew the interest of the pro teams.

While it can be argued that a drafted player can decide not to join the team that drafts him, if he wants to play in the NFL, he can only play for that team until the team decides to trade or release him.

It must have been a humbling experience for hundreds of young men. One minute, they are the big men on campus, hearing the cheers of tens of thousands of fans on a Saturday afternoon. The next minute, their futures were being decided by a room full of men who may or may not decide to place a call telling the player that he would have a chance to continue an activity which had consumed him for 10 or 15 years.

The whole process begins earlier in the spring, when the top players are invited to a tryout, called the NFL Combine. They are run through a series of drills, measured, interviewed, and unfortunately, tested. Note to prospective NFL players: be prepared to be in the best physical shape in your life, be humble, yet confident when you speak to the coaches. And for heaven's sake, don't fail the drug test! Yes, there were at least a couple of idiots who failed the league's drug test during the combine. Smoke a little weed and be prepared to forfeit a chance at millions of dollars. Hope it was worth it.

The draft was “must see TV” for many football fans. But after awhile, I got exhausted listening to Mel Kiper and others on ESPN or the NFL Network dissecting each potential draft pick. It still was nice hearing what they had to say about the Iowa and Iowa State players chosen. I was watching to see who from those two teams might be drafted, as well as who were picked for the Chicago Bears.

After the smoke cleared, Iowa had six players drafted and another five who quickly signed free agent contracts, meaning they were invited to try out for a specific team. Later this summer, as we get closer to the Iowa-Iowa State game, here's a stat for Hawk fans to use in their discussions with their Cyclone neighbors as to whether or not this is a Hawkeye State. Since the 2008 season, 24 Hawks have been drafted. That's six players each season.

The excitement of draft weekend is over. Several more free agents will be signed by each team. Then we have a couple of months before training camp opens, when each team can a maximum of 80 players in camp. That's 2,560 veterans and rookies vying to be among the 1,696 who will begin earning a pro football paycheck. When the first game of the regular season rolls around in early September, that means 864 men who at one time had visions of hearing the cheers on Sunday afternoon suddenly will be faced with finding something else to do with their lives.

 For pro football fans, the countdown begins!