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My maternal grandfather died this past Saturday evening. When my paternal grandfather passed away, I was very calm, cool and collected. I had to be; I was bestowed the honor of giving the eulogy. This time, however, I was given an honor far greater. Don't expect me to be calm, cool and collected, though. It's just not going to happen.

My grandfather was in hospice for about a week. Everyone in the immediate family had their chance to say their goodbyes. I tried to make it there everyday to visit both him and my grandmother, who rarely left his side.

My mother's only wish was that my grandfather didn't die alone. He didn't; I was with him.

Saturday was jam packed day for Brooke and me. Our long house-hunting escapade came to and end and we finally found the perfect home for us. By the time we put in the offer, we both had to go to work. All day I had a strange feeling that my grandfather was going to pass away and I wasn't going to be there.

It was a slow night at work, so I decided to call my parents around 8:00 pm to check on my grandfather. There was no change in his condition and he was expected to make it through the night. My Dad told me not to worry and that he would see me in the morning. Since it was so slow at the bar, I was able to leave work around 9:30. Brooke and I had plans to celebrate our new purchase after she got off of work around midnight, so I figured I would go pay the old man a visit just to check on him.

I pulled up to the assisted living facility around 10:20 pm and I did not see my parents' car. Thinking that was strange, I raced to the front door trying to avoid the rain as well as the empty feeling in my stomach. My grandfather was going to pass away and I was going to be the only one there. I knew it. I could feel it.

On my way to the room, I spoke with his nurse and she updated me on his condition. My parents, who went home to eat and change, had just called 10 minutes earlier to check on my grandfather's condition and told the nurse that they would be back with my grandmother soon. His condition remained the same. I walked into room, sat in my grandfather's recliner and watched the History Channel. Within minutes, I called Brooke in tears, which is uncharacteristic for me. Something just wasn't right. I told her that I was spending the night with my grandfather because I didn't want him to be alone. I was only in the chair for 5 minutes.

And then it happened. I turned and looked at my grandfather and our eyes met. It was quick, but it seemed like an eternity. I ran to get the nurse, who then instructed me to immediately call my grandmother and parents. Sensing the urgency in my voice, my father went to pick up my grandmother while my mother drove straight to the facility in the worst storm we've seen in months.

I helped the nurse as best I could, following her instructions. She gave my grandfather some medication to calm him down, and then told me exactly what was going to happen as my grandfather passed away, and showed me the best place to check for his pulse. She then left the room to give us some privacy. Sitting with him and saying a prayer, I was honored to be the one to see him off.

After a few minutes alone with grandfather, my mother arrived, then my grandmother and father, followed by the rest of the family.

Saturday night and the days that followed were easily the most difficult that I've ever had. I experienced something that most people never have or will, or even want to, for that matter. If anyone was to be with him, however, I'm glad it was me.

Mixed with emotion and not even sure how to deal with this experience, I made a video for everyone in the family. I don't know if it will help them, but it definitely helped me.

Love you, Pop. You were quite a guy.

Peter Anspach has compiled a list of 100 ways to be a successful evil overlord. He probably could have cut it to 50, but nonetheless the list is worth a read. This is "Sun Tzu meets bad action movies":

15. I will never employ any device with a digital count-down. If I find that such a device is absolutely unavoidable. I will set it to activate when the counter reaches 117 and the hero is just putting his plan into operation.

20. Despite its proven stress-relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. When so occupied, it's too easy to miss unexpected developments that a more attentive individual could adjust to accordingly.

29. I will dress in bright and cheery colors, and so throw my enemies into confusion.

58. If it becomes necessary to escape, I will never stop to pose dramatically and toss off a one-liner.

92. If I ever talk to the hero on the phone, I will not taunt him. Instead, I will say that his dogged perseverance has given me new insight on the futility of my evil ways and that if he leaves me alone for a few months of quiet contemplation I will likely return to the path of righteousness. (Heroes are incredibly gullible in this regard.)

My paternal grandfather passed away this past Monday. I was fortunate enough to have all four of my grandparents alive until this point; not many people can say that.

Tomorrow, I will be addressing the family and his friends with the eulogy. I was honored to be given the opportunity and I think that my view of death is why I was chosen to speak.

The loss of a loved one affects us all in many ways. Some like to grieve privately, others prefer the company of others. Some bury themselves in their work while others avoid it. There are those who like to talk about their lost loved ones, and others who do not. Death, for me, does not signify an end. It is a beginning of a new life, and it deserves to be celebrated as such.

In the last chapter of the Return of the King, the main characters all board the last ship leaving Middle Earth, as their lives on there have come to an end. Before departing, Gandalf approaches his melancholy, weeping friends and gives them the following message:

"Here at last, on the shores of the sea, comes the end of our Fellowship. Go in peace! I will not say do not weep; for not all tears are an evil."

In essence, the author is telling us that it is okay to weep when a loved one passes, as long as than they are tears of happiness. He uses the common metaphor of a ship sailing into the endless sea to signify the characters' passing and leaving their loved ones behind, but infers that feelings of happiness are most important at this time.

While I am sad and will miss my grandfather dearly, I am happy for him at the same time. For what is never mentioned in that common metaphor of the sailing ship is what awaits its passenger on the other side of the sea. When Pop completes his journey, he will be greeted by the cheering, applause and laughter of so many family and friends whom have passed before him, welcoming him with open arms into his new, everlasting life.

And I take comfort in knowing that when my ship sails, Pop-Pop will be first one waiting for me at that big white gate.

Go get 'em Redhead.

How long do popular theories hold water? Not for long, according to this Wired Magazine graphic.

It's good to see Wired taking a swipe at their own editor-in-chief's Long Tail theory. At least they don't hold themselves above the fray.

In case you don't know: Long Tail, Tipping Point, and Black Swan.

Schopenhauer must have been a real buggerbear to deal with.

By the way, of his 38 ways to win an argument, many are just ways not to lose an argument. That's bush league!

For instance:

38. Become personal, insulting and rude as soon as you perceive that your opponent has the upper hand. In becoming personal you leave the subject altogether, and turn your attack on the person by remarks of an offensive and spiteful character. This is a very popular technique, because it takes so little skill to put it into effect.

I am a competitive person, a fact not lost on me. But recently I've thought about exactly how and in what context I am competitive and came up with some interesting, but troubling, conclusions.

Competition with and against others is what most people think of when they hear someone described as competitive. In that sense, I certainly fit the bill. Whether it is Thanksgiving football, Risk with my friends, disc golf against my buddy Reilly, tennis, soccer, racquetball, the Callan Cup, or the fantasy football league I run, if the result is a loss I am, in varying degrees, disappointed, frustrated and angry. But never at my competitor, only at myself. And those contests are staged engagements - prearranged face-offs pitting two or more opponents, all equally aware that the goal is to win. A competition that is willingly entered into by all parties, and for all intents and purposes, a healthy one. But what happens when that competitive spirit begins to invade subconsciously into other benign parts of your life?

There's a sick irony in crime fighting. Fighting is a crime. Killing is a crime. But crime fighters fight. And crime fighters kill. They must.

People die during crimes and people die as punishment for those crimes. This, again, is a conundrum. Death beget death? This article isn't about capital punishment, but keep it in mind.

A Change of Pace

My initial idea for this week was address the issue of retaining high quality teachers in America. The statistics concerning teacher who leave the profession within the first five years is rather alarming, and therefore warrants discussion. After reading Gerard's article on Wednesday, however, I was led in another direction. In short, Gerard discussed how he had difficulty seeing who he is due to his analytical nature. His competitiveness contributes to his complex as he consistently compares himself to others whom he considers to be "better than him" at specific tasks in which he enjoys, such as running, leading him to continue to search for the right words to define him. In the end, there is an acceptance of sorts, and perhaps a new avenue towards a more accepting future is in store.

I, too, at one time, suffered from a similar complex, although my issue deals with accepting who I am, as opposing to actually seeing it.

What really is truth? The concept of truth is the foundation of many, if not all of our relationships. The relationships we have with individuals at home, at work, or online. The relationships we have with institutions such as our employer, our broker, our bank or car dealership, our local mechanics, or insurance and utility providers. The relationships we have with our local, state and federal government. They are all built on a foundation of truth. In some cases that ‘truth’ is present in the form of trust and honesty, supported by an interpersonal relationship developed over years as is the case of a spouse, loved one or close friends. In others that ‘truth’ takes the form of assumptions and dependency. Not so much developed as it is an essential component in the ground work of a relationship in order for that relationship to function from the onset, such as the trust you have with your bank, broker, or employer. But even those two rather different forms of truth, one developed and another intrinsic, are at once as honorable and secure as they are equally as fleeting.