White lines down a black road,
Stitching miles through darkness,
The driver wipes crusty eyes.
Fixes them for a moment on a distant star,
A beacon through the windshield.
Beside it shoots another star,
Streaking to oblivion..
No time to stop,
The driver swigs the bitter brew,
Gone cold a hundred miles ago.
Low rumble of the truck,
Soft music on the radio,
Speak, sibilant, of sleep
That must be brushed away.
The dark sky pales,
Sunrise silhouettes a spire.
The driver smiles.
Twilight, and the light grows pale.
Oil spots shimmer on the parking lot,
Motors hum along with cicadas,
Birds swoop onto the grilles
Of parked trucks, cleaning up
The bug buffet.
Honeysuckle vines along the truck stop fence
Scent the air along with diesel fumes.
Semis vie for spaces, circling the lot
Like rumbling hawks.
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, Trucker Version
(with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)
Written for the Trucking Santas
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the lot,
Not a trucker was stirring, each in our spot.
No stockings were hung from the smokestacks with care,
Since none of us thought we’d see Santa Claus there.
Us drivers were nestled all snug in our beds,
While visions of home time danced in our heads.
Me and old Bulldog, Rascal and Cap
Had each settled down for a much-needed nap.
When out in the lot there arose such a clatter,
Truckers sprang from their bunks to see what was the matter.
Away to the windshields we flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains, peered over the dash.
The moon on the hoods of the trucks in a row,
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
We sure didn’t think that we’d ever see it,
But Santa was pulling up, driving a Pete.
The little old driver, so lively and quick,
Hopped down from the cab – we knew it was Nick.
He was dressed all in red, with a red trucker cap,
And we were awake, no one taking a nap.
Well, drivers were peering from every rig,
With their mouths hanging open and eyes getting big,
It couldn’t be Santa - but he was so merry!
Same cheeks like roses, nose like a cherry!
Same big broad face, and little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
But where were his reindeer? Where was his sleigh?
And what was he doing out here, anyway?
He said these few words, and I knew they were true,
“I need Trucking Santas – how about YOU?
My sled is broke down; I have children to serve,
And I’m way out of hours, as you can observe!”
We looked at each other, and nodded together.
We knew about driving a rig in this weather.
Some climbed in the cab, some sat in the back,
And Santa smiled, knew he’d be right on track.
He had loads of presents still to deliver.
Made us feel proud to help this fine giver.
We set out to each house, to help unload.
Bulldog drove but the rig was in magical mode!
The truck left the road, but we had no fear,
DOT would never catch us up here!
Over the housetops we flew like a flash,
Even Supertruckers gripping the dash!
We’d come to a house, but land in the street.
The roofs couldn’t hold a magical Pete.
Santa handled the list, the rest of us toting,
We all were right good at this magic unloading.
Many houses had children whose parents were poor.
Gifts were last on the list, of this we were sure.
But it seemed the more that we gave, more was there
In the back of the trailer – it was such fun to share!
When at last all the presents were gone,
Nick took us back to our trucks with a yawn,
As we all scrambled out he stopped us to say,
“I couldn’t have done it without you this day.”
“I knew where to come to find helpers tonight,
For truckers are known for doing it right.
With your hearts of gold and your strong arms, too
You’ve made Christmas happen – I really thank you.”
And laying a finger aside of his nose,
He climbed in the cab, and then – up it rose!
But we heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!”
I know the folks that write and review the Hours of Service (HOS) mean well. I know they think we as truck drivers should get eight to ten hours of sleep a night. In principle, I agree with them. But, when they changed the rules for team drivers, they blew it.
Imagine that you are part of a team of truck drivers, and the load you are assigned has to be across the country in two and a half days. Not doing the math, but let's just say the transit has to equal 50 miles per hour. It's a just-in-time load, needed at the other end quickly and on time or it'll mess something up - like stop a factory production line that, like most of them, do not store parts until they need them, but rely on deliveries - just in time.
Now, that average 50 miles per hour takes into account that there will be bathroom and fuel breaks, but no long stops to to take a shower or eat a leisurely meal. Each time you stop, so does the speedometer, and even though you were going 70 miles per hour, that 30 minute break brings you down to 48 miles per hour - you get the drift.
So - you start out, one driver at the wheel, one in the sleeper berth. All is well until 4 A.M., when your partner, who has been driving, gets sleepy. He's been driving for 7 hours, and before that was up making sure that the load was properly secured, and the tractor and trailer had good rubber all around. He doesn't feel well today in the first place - maybe something he ate. He's rubbing his eyes and even coffee doesn't help anymore.
You, on the other hand, have been asleep, and are pretty well "slept out." It's hard to sleep in a bouncing truck, but you usually manage about seven or eight hours.
Now, the average person who is not a truck driver would, at this point, suggest that you, the driver who had been sleeping, replace the driver who was getting sleepy at the wheel. But, team drivers know that this can't legally be done.
Why? Because you have not been in the sleep for ten hours, that's why. Yep. Ten hours, no less.
Someone decided that this is the magic number. When you been ten hours in the sleeper, or eight hours in the sleeper and two hours off duty for a total of ten, you can drive. If your sleepy partner hasn't run off the road.
No, he wouldn't do that. He'd stop and take a short nap before he'd put everyone in danger by driving tired.
Except, he can't stop for long enough to let your sleeper hours total ten, or even long enough to get a good nap, providing he could find a place to park (that's another story.).
He can't stop because this load has to get there by a certain time or the receiver will quite possibly find another carrier who can get it there on time. Then, you might be without a job, if this happens enough.
Okay, so you can't drive for him, he can't stop - what can you do legally and safely that will get the load there on time?
The answer: NOTHING
The Powers That Be, it seems, have decided that truck drivers must sleep for eight hours, to get our proper rest. It used to be that teams could switch drivers every six hours.
That was changed in 2005. I'll let you do the research.
It would be so nice if we were trusted to be grown-ups who could make our own decisions on simple safety issues like this. Then, legally, and safely, we could get the load there, just in time.
Till then, we will opt for safety. Of course, none of us would EVER drive on our partner's logbook while he got some rest................that would be illegal. But safe.
"When you forgive, you release the anger & sense of injustice, & dwell in the state of forgiveness. You are not in a state of forgiveness if you continue to lament, to feel the pain of the action done against you. To forgive the unforgivable, you need only to forgive the imperfection of the heart of the person who hurt you. God will address the action. You do your work; let God do his." ♥---from a page on forgiveness on the site Vibrant Nation
It’s hot. Really hot. Fried egg on the sidewalk hot. Pop tar bubbles with your toes hot – anyone remember doing that as a child?
I remember summer days so long and hot as these, but then I could enjoy them. I could run up to the neighborhood swimming pool or at least turn on the sprinkler and run squealing back and forth. I’d stay in the water till my lips turned blue.
Then I’d hear the ice cream truck coming slowly down the block. I’d run in and beg my mother for money, run back and get something cold and wonderful. My favorite was the orange and vanilla Dreamsicles.
Sometimes we’d have Popsicles in the freezer, those double-sticked ones you could share. Breaking them apart carefully, you’d give one half to your girlfriend (or sometimes your little brother) and you both could lick the sticky sweetness, your hands getting colored from the quickly melting stuff. If you were too eager, your tongue could get stuck on the thing.
We didn’t have air-conditioning in those days. My Daddy built a box fan and installed it in the dining room window, blowing out and drawing a breeze across our sweaty bodies as we lay in our beds with the window open on the opposite side of the house.
We were always dressed in as little as we could get away with, the boys shirtless and the little girls in those elastic-legged sun suits that tied at the shoulders. We wore flip-flops or went barefoot. The dog panted over our feet and dripped spit on them.
Summer’s not as much fun now we are grownups. We are the ones wiping Popsicle stickiness off everything, running the kids to the pool in the car (at least the car is air conditioned now) and working in air conditioned offices where we can’t see the sun but can catch the office cold.
Summer heat should not, I think, be avoided at all costs. Sometimes it is telling us to slow down and take care of ourselves. Rushing in and out of air conditioned rooms and cars makes us dread the heat when we can’t avoid it. Especially when we have to wear panty hose!
Slow down, sit outside with some iced tea or water, and watch the kids scooting each other with the hose. Tell some stories, show the kids how to get honeysuckle nectar, sing some old songs. Eat watermelon and spit the seeds. Work in your garden till the perspiration drips. Bring some pretty flowers inside. Breathe deeply of the warm air and remember how you complained of the cold six months ago.
And then, best of all, I dare you! Go run through the sprinkler, laughing!
The sky fell on Alabama last week. Over thirty tornadoes swept through North Alabama, tumbling trees, cars, entire houses into unrecognizable piles of rubble. Bricks and sticks, balls and dolls, and paper, so much paper.
A lot of the paper is photographs, torn and soaked in the rain. Irreplaceable portraits of loved ones, the frames splintered and the pictures blurred beyond recognition.
Volunteers are now sifting through the mess, trying to save the most precious possessions of people they do not know. Painstakingly they lift the broken pieces, looking for treasures. These are carefully placed in plastic bins for the resident of the destroyed house to go through.
Our lives were changed the day of the tornadoes. Some of us, like me, only lost electricity for five days. Others lost everything. Many lost their lives, over 230 people, including five members of one family. In that family, only one child survived. His twin did not.
We found candles and flashlights, propane stoves and – neighbors. People pooled the food that was going to go bad in their refrigerators and impromptu barbecues happened. I had a propane grill, my friend had instant coffee. That worked out well; several kaffeeklatches ensued.
We found stars. In suburban neighborhoods the streetlights blur the night sky. Suddenly there were hundreds more stars. Without the sound of air conditioners, we could hear crickets again. Little tree frogs sang us to sleep through our open windows.
We found our own music. Without the professionally delivered and packaged entertainment, we found our old instruments and dusted them off, found our voices and sang old tunes. I hope we keep singing and don’t forget the songs again.
We found our own resilience. Cold showers and spit baths will do that for you. We remembered how to stomp our dirty clothes in cold water in the bath tub and hang them out to dry on makeshift clotheslines.
We remembered how to pray, earnestly and sincerely and for people we had never met. We had no time to question why this devastation had happened to us. We just prayed and rolled up our sleeves.
In a disaster, people frequently forget to take care of themselves, forget to eat and sleep often enough. They are overwhelmed mentally as well and stress can cause them to become ill. The wise among the volunteers take time for themselves so that the next day they can work again. We need to look out for burnout among our fellow workers and tell them it’s okay to rest a bit.
Alabama the Beautiful will be so again. Eventually the debris will be gone, and the trees will be replanted.
Alabama’s people, helping each other, are beautiful now.
Here's an article with some great tips to help:
Men's Health by Bill Phillips and the Editors of Men's Health
We stand around a lot here at Men’s Health. In fact, a few of us don’t even have office chairs. Instead, we write, edit, and answer e-mails—a lot of e-mails—while standing in front of our computers. All day long. Why?
It all started last summer, when Assistant Editor Maria Masters came across a shocking study in the Medicine & Science in Sports & Exercise (one of dozens of research journals we comb each month as we put together the magazine). Scientists at the Pennington Biomedical Research Center in Louisiana analyzed the lifestyles of more than 17,000 men and women over about 13 years, and found that people who sit for most of the day are 54 percent more likely to die of heart attacks.
That’s right—I said 54 percent!
Masters immediately called the lead researcher at Pennington, a professor named Peter Katzmarzyk. Turns out, this wasn’t the first study to link sitting and heart disease. Similar research actually dates back to 1953, when British researchers found that (sitting) bus drivers were twice as likely to die of heart attacks as (standing) trolley operators.
Here’s the most surprising part: “We see it in people who smoke and people who don’t,” Katzmarzyk told Masters. “We see it in people who are regular exercisers and those who aren’t. Sitting is an independent risk factor.”
In other words, it doesn’t matter how much you exercise or how well you eat. If you sit most of the day, your risk of leaving this world clutching your chest—whether you’re a man or women—as much as doubles.
Bonus Tip: For the latest health, fitness, and nutrition tips and advice, check out our all-new Today's News channel!
This raised a rather obvious question: Why? Truth is, the researchers aren’t sure. But Marc Hamilton, Ph.D., one of Katzmarkzyk’s colleagues, suspects it has to do with an enzyme called lipoprotein lipase (LPL), which breaks down fat in the bloodstream and turns it into energy. Hamilton found that standing rats have ten times more of the stuff coursing through their bodies than laying rats. It doesn’t matter how fit the rats are; when they leave their feet, their LPL levels plummet. Hamilton believes the same happens in humans.
Still sitting? Then you should know that your office chair also:
1. Screws up your posture. The fascia, the tissue that connects individual muscles into a full-body network, begins to set when you stay in one position for too long, says Men’s Health advisor Bill Hartman, P.T., C.S.C.S., a physical therapist in Indianapolis. If you’re hunched over a keyboard all day, this eventually becomes your normal posture.
2. Makes you fatter. This happens for two reasons. First, you burn 60 more calories an hour when standing versus sitting. But more importantly, says Hartman, when you spend too much time sitting, your largest muscle group—the glutes (a.k.a. your butt)—become lazy and quit firing. This is called gluteal amnesia. And it means you burn fewer calories.
3. Causes lower back pain. Weak glutes push your pelvis forward, putting stress on the spine, says Hartman. Here’s the other unseemly thing that happens when your pelvis tilts forward: Your belly protrudes, making you look 5 months pregnant.
Bonus Tip: For more strategies that will keep you fit and healthy for life, check out The Best Fitness Tips Ever!
So what’s a desk-bound worker to do? First, Hamilton suggests you change how you think about fitness. We have a tendency to segment our lives—work, home, and downtime. Exercise falls into the last category, something we squeeze into our busy schedules when possible. But if you stop thinking about exercise as an activity, and instead think of it as a lifestyle, it’s easier to make healthy choices throughout the day.
In other words: Stop trying to be fit, and start trying to live fit.
Second, of course, is to stand more throughout the day. These strategies will get you up on your feet more often:
Strategy #1: Take two breaks an hour. Grab a drink from the water fountain. Pop over to the cube next door to say hi. Or simply stand and stretch for a minute. A European Heart Journal study of 5,000 men and women found that the quarter who took the most breaks during the day were 1.6 inches thinner than the quarter who took the least.
Strategy #2: Stand during phone calls. It may seem like a small thing but, as Hamilton told Masters: “Small choices will help move you in the right direction. . . . It all adds up, and it all matters.”
Strategy #3: Don’t write long emails. If crafting an email will take longer than 15 minutes, go talk to the person instead. Or stand up and call them.
And if that’s not enough (and it may not be) . . .
Strategy #4: Ask HR for a standup desk. Australian researchers found that workers who log more than 6 hours of seat time a day are up to 68 percent more likely to be overweight. If you make the changes above and your waistline isn’t shrinking, a standup desk may be the answer. Make sure the screen is at arm’s length, and the top at eye level. Position the keyboard so your elbows are bent 90 degrees. Men’s Health Senior Editor Bill Stieg built his own.
This Must Be Love
As the rig pulls in, she is already gathering the shower bags.
He finishes his log page and the last sip of the coffee she made for him miles ago.
She makes the bed, a habit she just can’t quit.
He asks her if the pay paperwork is done and she says of course it is, the packets are ready to drop in, I have them right here.
She tells him not to forget his reading glasses this time.
He asks her to hand him his current book and she passes it to him without a word, not even losing his place.
She bundles up the trash bag so the dog won’t make a glorious mess.
The dog is leashed and taken to the small grassy spot,
And encouraged to make a mess of a different kind.
She puts the dog up, and gets the bags down.
He shoulders his bag, and as they walk toward the truck stop,
They reach for each other’s calloused hand.
The weather this winter has been fierce and seems to be continuing into spring. That’s the weather outside of us. How is the weather inside you doing? This winter saw more snow than we have seen in a long time. Piles and piles of the stuff, at first delighting the children and even, secretly, their parents with the promise of days off from school and work, sitting around drinking hot chocolate after making The BEST Snowman, Ever.
It kept falling. And falling. We kept shoveling. After days of this, it was not fun anymore. It was no longer beautiful, white and fluffy but a treacherous, icy gray. We had accidents on it. We got tired of removing it. And if we heard, “Let It Snow” one more time on the radio, we were going to scream.
Sometimes our lives are like this weather. We experience a welcome change. Perhaps a new job, a new baby, a new husband. All is wonderful for a while, all shiny and fascinating and beautiful.
Then, if we are not careful, the “new” wears off and one day it just seems all too hard. Taking care of another person, much as we love them, sometimes begins to resemble a chore as bad as shoveling snow. Those diapers just don’t stop, any more than the snow has.
That’s when we have to be careful to watch out for bad storms of the heart. We women tend to try and do everything for as long as we can, then when we can’t deal with it anymore, blow up into a tempest, saying and doing things we don’t mean and would never do if we just weren’t so tired.
The idea of self-care is to take care of ourselves physically and emotionally so that we will have the strength and resilience to take care of the others we love. Kind of like making sure we have milk and bread before the storm hits. Like keeping the fire stoked and drinking some of that hot chocolate, ourselves.
Let others help you. Realize you don’t have to do everything perfectly. Take a deep breath and get a big hug or give one.
Life is stressful. Even happy events can stress us out. When we recognize this, we can begin to take steps to prepare ourselves for the inevitable storms, and in doing so, can see the snow as beautiful once more.
Even so – I’m glad spring is peeking its head up!
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