Pardon The Dust

We've been playing with some server changes and what better thing to screw up while testing the changes than my blog?

Really.

Anyway, I'm searching around for backups and toying with backgrounds and in the interim thinking, "Isn't there something more productive I could be doing?"

So this lil' blog o' mine may be shifting around, looking strange and periodically disappearing.

Just pretend the election isn't really over yet.

Big Ears, A Big Heart and A Big Life

As I begin to write this, a friend of mine is dying...before I publish it, he will be dead.

I didn't always call him a friend. In fact during the time period when we actually were in daily contact, he was not in the "friend" category at all...he was my boss. We didn't hang out or share many interests. Except radio.

I wrote about him a little over a year ago. He was going toe to toe with cancer and determined to be the victor.

Our relationship blossomed into friendship during that battle over these past few years. We had some very good communications regarding things like fear, and faith, and God.

I didn't mention his name when I initially wrote about him. I was respecting his privacy.

---

Over the past 33 years or so in the radio industry, I have worked with a lot of people. I have crossed paths and swords with a lot of big egos, big voices, big opinions, big backstabbers, big talkers, big liars and a healthy dose of blustering blowhards. They come with the territory and frankly many radio stations wouldn't succeed if they didn't have people on staff with those very big traits.

In all honestly though, I believe I've only worked with one person who lived a truly big life: Andrew Ashwood.

I'm naming him now, out of respect for the man...my friend. Moments ago I learned my friend died tonight.

In 1997, Andrew blasted into San Antonio like a giant, amiable, eager, energetic serial killer... on speed. It didn't take anyone long to realize that they may not know exactly where Andrew was or where he was going, but you sure as Hell knew where he'd been.

He was tasked with an enormous challenge: take a heritage 50,000 watt blow torch News Talk station in an entirely new direction - sorry, no instruction manual.

He was under the gun: kick off the dust, find ways to make a rather stogy, set in its ways radio station and its staff, exciting and fresh. Attract a larger and younger audience, but be certain to maintain the station's well earned integrity and respected image in the market.

There was one other caveat to his marching orders: remember that the station is the flagship News Talk station of the largest broadcasting company on the planet which happens to be headquartered in the same city. Remember the founders of the company along with every Tom, Dick or Mary with a title and permission to enter the corporate headquarters building whether they worked in San Antonio or in Boise, would be judging your progress...listening at every opportunity. Expect a lot of phone calls from people who wanted to look impressive at the corporate offices...not necessarily make a lasting impression on the industry.

Andrew would occasionally remind me and others that "Big Ears" were listening in reference to all the corporate folks he was often filtering us from. Eventually it didn't matter who was listening or the size of their ears...we could defend our product against any critic. We still can and Andrew is a huge reason that's possible. He taught me, and every employee whether they were his charges or not, to always seek to do better, never to rest on our laurels and he taught us there is no goal that is unattainable.

Andrew made huge changes, and he made them rapidly because he believed in himself, his vision, and his co-workers. He was convinced he knew what needed to be done. He also knew he was going to face a lot of backlash and so I suppose he figured there wasn't much sense in being delicate about it.

Recent political campaign slogans notwithstanding, I've found most people are actually resistant to change, especially when it comes to big things, like their jobs.

Some of the radio station employees who didn't respect Andrew's philosophy, or whose egos felt threatened, quit in occasionally comical huffs. One self-professed "talk show superstar" actually brought in body guards to block the studio door as he unexpectedly announced that immediately after he got his last "two cents" in, he was walking out and never looking back.

His "body guarded" bravado lasted 10 or 15 minutes during which he put all the blame for his apparently rash and emotionally gooey departure on Andrew. He told the audience how he was being forced to leave to maintain his integrity and that he could not in good conscious be on a radio station that was also going to carry a show which he characterized as evil, in fact satanic.

In hindsight, it was hysterical. With hypocrisy levels almost unimaginable anywhere but the broadcasting industry and Washington D.C., he said he was taking the moral high ground because his "young son" would be destroyed by a horrifying program the evil Andrew Ashwood was scheming to air. Then he and his "body guards" stormed out, leaving the microphones open, a number of people - including his wife, a station employee and also the mother of that impressionable little boy he was sparing from damnation by using as a prop - somewhat stunned. The only thing he failed to mention during his on-air fit was that he had already signed a contract with another station across town which required him to guarantee he could bring a large number of his program's sponsors to them. The stunt was so convincing to some that the then Archbishop of San Antonio got sucked into commenting on whether the "devil" was being allowed onto the legendary WOAI airwaves.

Andrew took all the heat...and there was a lot. Andrew and I didn't always agree, but after a while even thick headed folks like me tend to notice people who aren't running away or pointing fingers when lynch parties are organizing. I once sent Andrew an email telling him that, "We may fight over some of your methods, but I've never worked for anyone whom I could count on more to 'take the arrows' when hard decisions had to be made." Andrew's reply was atypical for his personality. I won't share that except to say I don't think he was expecting compliments from me at that time in our relationship.

By the way, the demonically sinister program Andrew put on the air on WOAI at 9pm on a tape delayed basis which was destined to corrupt small boys and lure them into to Hell...was a sports talk show hosted by a young guy who was making an impression and shaking things up in the industry.

Today, the Jim Rome radio show is perhaps the most syndicated sports talk show in the nation carried on hundreds of radio stations. To the best of my knowledge the devil has never been among Mr. Rome's guests.

The talk show host who rode out that day on his moral high horse with his trusted "body guards" at his side, lasted five or six years at his new station. The "loyalty" of most of the sponsors he promised to bring with him lasted only a few months. Last I heard he was out of radio and trying to sell his own self-professed one of a kind special extra delicious barbecue from a trailer on the side of a freeway. That venture didn't last long. I suppose people can only stomach so much.

Let me be clear, that is only one example of what Andrew not only endured but instigated within days of his arrival at WOAI. Many of the radio station's listeners rebelled at Andrew's wholesale programming modifications as well. Especially since Andrew imposed many of them with little or no notice, but always with great after-the-fact public fanfare. Andrew led the cheers for the changes within the walls of the radio station and in front of every TV camera, or newspaper reporter he could rally to outrage. He never flinched. He took on all comers who disagreed and he did so with gusto...he relished the challenge and lived in the moment.

I wasn't a quick convert either. I resisted too...but I learned something important. When I vehemently disagreed with Andrew, he did something that I had never experienced before with any other programming chief with whom I worked up to that point...he listened. I occasionally might see a hint that my objections were getting under his skin a bit, but he never lashed out, he never yelled, he rarely ever took the easiest step for any boss to take which is to simply say, "Tough luck I'm the boss."

The most telling of my personal "disagreements" with Andrew occurred in December of 1998. The House of Representatives was beginning the process of impeaching then President Clinton. Instead of turning over the radio station to a direct feed from the House floor where politician after politician was speechifying, Andrew threw together a rather motley bunch of quasi-talk show personalities and talk show host wannabes who ended up doing what a lot of folks suddenly tossed into a position like that do, they talked...they talked a lot. Remember, the station's self proclaimed "Super Star" host had already deserted.

This makeshift group yakked and yukked and rarely offered insight into the current situation. They were ill prepared for the task of dealing with an event the nation had not witnessed in modern history.

I was furious. A once in a lifetime historical event was playing out and the future of the country's President might well be dictated by what was being said, yet our station was broadcasting banter.

Sometimes the stories tell themselves...you don't need announcers. I believed this was one of those occasions.

I didn't have to listen long before I simply blew.

I remember vividly storming around the radio station desperately trying to find Andrew, only to end up confronting him in the office of his boss. I didn't care. I interrupted their conversation without giving it a thought, spewing out everything I believed was wrong with what was happening on our airwaves, and not mincing words. I mean I blasted him. I blasted the gaggle of gossip we had on the air. I lectured Andrew on history like he was a schoolboy in knickers.

And I did it all, directly in front of his boss, the person who hired him only months prior and who stood there... mouth agape.

When my tirade was complete I turned to walk away, quickly realizing I might not get out the office door before being fired and then... Andrew laid me low with four words, "I appreciate your passion." He didn't yell them, he didn't seem mad or even embarrassed that one of his employees was questioning his judgment in front of his boss. He was calm and he was sincere.

A short time later, Andrew came into the newsroom. He called several of us together and asked for all our thoughts and then he acted. He culled some of the quasi-talk show hosts from the gaggle, carried much more of the live feed and made sure that everyone knew that they should bring him any other ideas right away.

It was the right move and a move that symbolized one of Andrew's greatest traits, he believed in people. He often believed in them more than they believed in themselves and he wasn't afraid to encourage them, or take advice, or seek ideas from anyone. He really did listen.

Andrew made careers for many people in my industry because of that attitude. He knew all his employees' names, he wasn't someone employees saw once in a while. He was hands on, all the time.

Andrew was my Operations Manager for six years before he left for his "dream job." He became the Vice President of Fox Sports Radio and moved to L.A. with the woman who soon became his wife.

When he left, News Radio 1200 WOAI had the highest ratings and largest audience in its history and I honestly believe there wasn't one employee who wanted to see him go.

How many bosses can you say that about?

Andrew was a giant of a man in many ways, his nickname was "The Gorilla" but he wasn't intimidating. He certainly demanded the best, but that was because he saw the best in people. He brought it out in those that let him.

Following his cancer diagnosis we exchanged a lot of emails and no matter the setbacks he endured, the treatments he was tortured by, and the occasional unsolicited prognosis of pessimism, never once did Andrew Ashwood stop believing he could win.

His faith in God grew stronger as his body at times grew weaker. His love for his wife Sandra also grew as he at times relied heavily on her strength and faith.

Andrew, who was 51 years old, died tonight after suffering a massive heart attack earlier this week. I will miss him and the radio industry certainly will never be the same.

I suspect Andrew Ashwood's heart may have been too big for this world...but I can guarantee that Heaven is a livelier place tonight than it has ever been.

Please enjoy him Lord...so many of us praise You for allowing us that privilege.

Andrew Ashwood
1957 - 2008

Pure gold put in the fire comes out of it proved pure; genuine faith put through this suffering comes out proved genuine. When Jesus wraps this all up, it's your faith, not your gold, that God will have on display as evidence of His victory. - 1 Peter 1:6-7(MSG)

Heads Up! This Is Creepy

Learn more here.

I Didn't Realize How Much I Was Missing

I'm on every Do Not Call, Do Not Solicit, Do Not Bother, Go Away! list you can imagine, so I don't get a lot of telephone solicitations even during election years.
I have always found robotic calls annoying and am somewhat pleased by the lack of those intrusions this year - of course it may be because Amy and I can rarely find our home phone in time to answer it, but that's another story.

In past years I've had recorded Governors and even Presidents call begging for my vote. However I've apparently missed a lot by getting myself off those lists and now feel a little like techno-troglodyte.





Especially after I heard this call initiated by a robotic election hustler in San Francisco.

Wow! Back in my day folks paid money to call numbers where they talked like that, now they call you for free.

The obvious correlation between politicians and dirty talk need not be explored further I suppose.

A Little Update

I meant to write something earlier today but got sidetracked...if it's any consolation I also meant to get more of the housecleaning and the laundry done and that got sidetracked too.

I did get to the kitchen and some of the laundry.



I have an excuse for being distracted...and she's a cutie:



Say,"Hello" to Tatyana!

She's almost one, unbelievably.

Tatyana - Taty for short - is the daughter of Ana Gomez.

If you're a longtime reader - God bless you - you'll perhaps remember Ana, her mom Lee, and brothers John' and Michael.
If you just stumbled across my ramblings, God bless you too, but you can read more about the Gomez clan and how they landed in our home for six months or so after fleeing Hurricane Katrina in various posts but this one, this one and this one are three I like the best. Admittedly they are some of the more upbeat posts from period, although all are bittersweet in one way or another. There were a lot of trying times during those six months for everyone involved...having a selective memory is useful sometimes.

Anyway this morning, just as I was about to start tackling the kitchen I swear, our doorbell rang. No one usually rings our doorbell without us knowing before hand unless it's the UPS guy. We don't get a lot of visitors and I do my best to scare away door to door salespeople. I have "NO SOLICITING - NO KIDDING" labels on the doorbell itself - really.

To have the doorbell ring unexpectedly on a Saturday morning made us suspicious, and also required us to quickly check our basic grooming - hey, it's Saturday! We were just lazing around, although I was of course vigorously prepping for kitchen duty.

So there at the door are Lee, Ana and Tatyana and suddenly the fact our house was a mess and I had bed head didn't seem to matter.

It's been too long since we've been able to visit and Tatyana is a joy.

We caught up. Lee is working, taking care of Tatyana and trying to keep John' under control while also taking some college classes over the Internet. Ana just quit her job so she can hopefully expedite her plan to get into "boot camp." She enlisted in the Navy and then, well...Tatyana resulted in...to use a seafaring analogy, an "impromptu course correction." So she's experiencing motherhood and is still perpetually happy. That girl is always laughing and it's infectious.




We haven't been very good at staying in touch with Lee and the kids. We haven't worshiped together for a long time and between Amy's health and my work hours it's hard to maintain relationships.

But we spent some quality time together today - not enough but hopefully it will open the door to more.




I have a feeling that seeing Taty on a regular basis may be exactly what the doctor ordered...even if it does result in housework being put off for another day...or two.






Our children and their children will get in on this, as the word is passed along from parent to child. Babies not yet conceived will hear the good news - that God does what He says. - Psalm 22:30 (MSG)

Seeing Through The Ring

We are fallible little beasties.

We misinterpret a lot and I believe we have for eons and many of us misinterpret the same things today that our ancestors and their ancestors misinterpreted, even without the benefit of new forms of communication which make miscommunication so much easier.

How many of us for example learned the first commandment this way:

'You shall have no other gods before Me.' ?

All you need to do is Google the ten commandments and you'll likely find a couple zillion places that list that as the first commandment.

It's a matter of interpretation I suppose...misinterpretation in my mind. Which leads me to this story I've been waiting to write...


His ring is silver and shiny. It is new, bought to commemorate a relationship. An anniversary gift to himself. An anniversary of death.

That's not what it really symbolizes to me but that's sort of how he explained it during one of our most recent breakfast conversations. He didn't really have an explanation since the act of buying the ring runs completely counter to the words and feelings he's been unleashing and unloading on me week after week...for more than a year.

The ring is new but the conversations are old. He tells me how he is doing better and then minutes later he's rehashing the same bitter memories. His now dead wife wronged him. The pain from her last actions has caused him to doubt the validity of their entire relationship. She died without seeming to care about him. Her depraved children from a previous marriage stepped all over his grief, robbed him of the opportunity to mourn and raped him of the good memories. The echoes of suffering which never seem to fade.

Oh! He is doing fine!

He always is for the first four or five minutes of our talks, but moments later the pain bubbles back to the top, no matter how I try to steer the conversation to any other topic. It's like watching your friend repeatedly rip the scab off a wound every time you start to notice a semblance of healing.

Every week he is over it...every week he reminds me about everything he is over.

Every week I wonder if he'll ever actually get over any of it.

I no longer try to rephrase my responses, find a new analogy to offer him counsel. I've tried everything I know, so now I only try to be certain I get the message in. I remind him how well he is doing, how much better he is than he was a year ago, how few real worries he has, that there's no telling what the future may hold, that he has to be open to seeing God's blessings.

These things are true. He's going to church, meeting new people, staying active. His health is good, his finances great...but his heart remains shattered.


Sometimes he will tear up as he tells me of his daily conversations with God. He prays every day for God to send him someone with whom to share his life. He trembles at the prospect of living the rest of his life alone.

During our most recent breakfast, he is fiddling with that new shiny ring on his right hand. A simple silver band with a cross.



It's an oddity really. He was never especially religious. He is Jewish, although in the 15 years I've known him he's never been a practicing Jew. His dead wife was Baptist.

Years ago, at least for a little while, they attended services together at a Messianic Temple. He drifted away from that until his wife was dying. Then he joined the Baptist church she began attending. When she started losing her battle for a grip on earth, he quickly lost faith in church.

He left the Baptist church when his wife died...telling me it was because of the memories.

Some months ago, he called me excitedly to say he was joining a Methodist church. I was happy for him, a little befuddled, but he had apparently found community. This week he told me he really joined because "they had a single's group." He also confessed he had stopped going to that church and started attending one of the giant churches in town...the Methodist's single's group was full of "old women."

Church or Temple has never really been anything but a "place" to him...a place where he at least wasn't alone, and he has been lonely. Yet despite not cultivating any relationships with women, he was cultivating a relationship with God...perhaps never inside any formal place of worship...but at night, crying aloud, begging God for a chance for happiness again.

I don't think he's realized that relationship, at least not fully. We pray together. I've learned to pray during our meals since he can tend to send up quite a prayer and let God in for what's usually my normal dose of 'unloading'...and my food gets cold.


There is much he doesn't understand. He wants God to tell him why his wife died and why she seemingly treated him so poorly after all their years together. He wants to know if his wife went to Heaven.

Like all of us he has questions for God which only God can answer.

Week after week, I've attempted to provide a steady force feeding of reminders that he should trust in God, look to the future, cherish the good memories, forgive, unburden himself of the past, dwell less on what he no longer has, and thank God more for all the blessings which surround him.

In all honesty, my menu for "moving on" has never seemed to satisfy his hunger. It's all I can offer, a recipe of hope.

He was better the last time we shared a meal. He was happy and I knew why because he had called me the night before and told me, sparing few details. He has found love again. A woman who 'gets' him, tolerates him, needs him but can be independent of him. Their relationship is moving very fast and today I learned they plan to marry in January.

I whole heartedly endorsed his relationship over that breakfast meeting, and his marriage plans during our phone call today. He's in his 60's, life is too short and can end too soon. Take a chance, cover your bases but reach for it all. It's out there, but you have to reach for it.

As we scarfed down our food that day I barely had the chance to speak as he told me all about this new woman in his life, how perfect she is, how much better he is...and finally I saw that he understood how time yields perspective.

It was then he showed me the ring. It was an odd transition. From a new love to a dead love to a new ring marking an anniversary of death. I understood it. I'm not sure he did. I'm still not sure he does.

As we talked today and he told me of his wedding plans, he said he barely thinks of 'her' - his dead wife - at all these days. Well, maybe once in a while, but he doesn't tear up...much. He's not angry...or at least as angry.

I mentioned to him quietly that even when he puts a new ring on his hand in a few months and on the hand of his new bride, he should still wear that other 'new' ring on his other hand as he does now.

I'm not sure he understood why. I'm not sure he will. We misinterpret so many things.

Yes, his wife died and it was a terrible death and the circumstances that followed were evil in how he was haunted by the final memories.

Yet that ring...that ring is a testament to a relationship that ended AND a relationship that is really unexplored and unlimited. Not the relationship with his soon to be wife. His relationship with his Creator.

There are blessings all around us. All of us. Everyday.

How we look at the world, head up or head down, dictates how or whether we see them.

My friend is amazingly blessed. He's realizing that now. I hope as his relationship grows with his new wife, he won't misinterpret the first commandment.

"I am the LORD your God. You shall have no other gods before Me."


That's the way I interpret the first commandment. It doesn't begin with"You shall " It begins with, "I am the LORD your God"

Maybe He should have been more clear, "l am your loving God. I created you. Nice to meet you, I want a relationship with you, Please don't ever overlook the very first words I spoke to you. I want this relationship to last for all eternity. Stick with Me won't you? You'll be amazed at the blessings you'll see when you do."


That's a lot to fit on a tablet I suppose.

Everyone Has Heard Of 'Cat Ladies'...

Amy is in Ohio for the wedding of yet another nephew (I think I've run out of nephews to marry off now) so I spent the weekend watching TV, ignoring the lawn, and um...watching TV.
Most of the time I was joined by our youngest and largest hound, Gabby, who likes to lounge almost as much as much as I do.





Once she settles down from the excitement of jumping on the bed or couch, Gabby is usually content to sit there and watch a movie or whatever I'm viewing. She did object to "Snakes on a Plane" and I can't blame her, I only made it about 10 minutes in and then thought "cleaning the kitchen would be better than this." She also didn't tolerate the Cowboy's game...they learn so fast (sigh).

Gabby is a slightly gendered confused (soon she's going to be gender neutral) terrier mix whom we 'inherited' from a former resident we threw out for being an indecent human being. She likes to roll around and get dirty...chew on almost anything everything, and generally see what she can get away with...but she's not prissy.

I noticed this morning that in the Fort Worth area over the weekend they had "Barktoberfest."

You can see the slide show at the Fort Worth Star Telegram site, but let's just say Gabby wouldn't have fit in.

Photo credit:Star-Telegram/Bruce Maxwell


I barely have the patience to get the clogs of mud out of her claws...the idea of "painting" her toes makes me believe a lot of folks are howlin' at the moon a bit too much.

They need to find better things to occupy their time... like watching TV and ignoring the lawn.