I'm Burning Up

I just spent $48.13 to fill the gas tank of my Audi A4. WTF? I mean, DUDE! Exactly what is up with that? Now, on the whole, I have an outstanding staff at my law firm. And by no means are they stupid people.  And in cases like this, most seem to excel in mathmatics. The equation goes something like this...  $15/hr, times 3, is $45, so, if i siphon out Rich's gas tank, I can leave early today. I saw some gas tank siphons for sale on eBay. And they were pretty cheap. 

The siphons were certainly cheaper than what the media has termed "priceless" when referring to the contents of the ceremonial room that was on fire next to the White Hous

e today.  That's all the news report babbled about... the utter treasures in this room next to the white house. 

Oh, also, she mentioned the secretarial

 desks.  This is what makes the news.  Does anyone else see something wrong with this picture? There wasn't even a footnote about the firefighters who entered that place.  Is it such a high matter of national security that the windows to this place are bullet proof? And that they are welded and otherwise secured shut? When you're a firefighter, and you are going into this type of situation, you know this much:  the smoke and gasses in th

e room are much more dangerous than the fire itself, which is why you have to VENTILATE VENTILATE VENTILATE.  Failure to do so will result in a flashover. And you will die. Life and Death.  It's that simple. I can't IMAGINE what it was like for these brave souls to go into that death trap, fully aware of the consequences of their actions.  They carried out their duty with courage, poise, and professionalism.  And all that smoke billowing out of the building that served as the basis for the media's trumped up drama was the understated product of these few good men and women firefighters.  If you want to watch a video of the difficulty these firefighters had with the windows, click right here, and play the video- which of course has a commercial that precedes it. 

Apparently, neither the president nor the vice president were anywhere near the building. With all of the technology available to them, not to mention the hordes of their executive staff, you would THINK that it would be easy for them to utter two simple words:  "Thank" and "You".  I mean, the 'important people' can hide themselves in a command center in an AWACS plane in the air, or in some mountain somewhere, they can launch nuclear attacks from their bedrooms, they can recognize the bravery of these firefighters, wait- I guess that's not possible. Congress has to set up a separate budget and task force for that. But hey- there are some really really nice secretarial desks in the building next to the white house. Thank goodness for that. 

How many tanks of gas do you think one of those desks costs?  Here's an idea for all of you car manufacturers, so concerned with America's drivers- forget gas, forget electric and hybrid cars, and gasohol, forget it all- one secretarial desk from the White House should ke

ep a car running for about 5 years or so.  Oh, wait... can't do that.... that would mean my law firm employees could come to WORK and EARN A LIVING SUING YOU.  

I just gave out holiday bonuses to my law firm staff- gift cards to the Hess gas 

station.  And I just called my financial advisor to set up a gas fund for my kids.  Forget the college fund. They won't be able to afford to drive there anyway. 

I'm Not The Only One To Find This Life "Appealing"

The Next time you hear a siren, pull over.  There could be a lawyer on board an ambulance making his case for the benefit of dedication and compassion.   

If you want to play the video, click HERE and play it. Otherwise, read the story below.  

Rock on, brother Ned:

Lawyer Moonlights As St. Louis Paramedic
Created: 11/22/2007 5:08:02 PM
Last updated: 11/22/2007 5:11:38 PM


By Mike Bush

(KSDK) - Let's face it, lawyers are not always the most exciting people.

"I enjoy the research", says attorney Ned Fryer. "I like the
thought processes, the intellectual challenge."

So spellbinding he's not but Fryer is successful.
He's been on the fast track since he got out of college.

"My first job out of law school was being a law clerk for Judge William Webster," says Fryer.

That's the same William Webster who went on to direct both the FBI and the CIA.

These days, he's a partner with Bryan Cave, one of the largest law firms in the country. Even at 60, Fryer still works 12 hour days. And on weekends? Well you'd expect to see him on the golf course. You'd expect that but you'd be wrong.

Some lawyers get a reputation for chasing ambulances. Ned Fryer drives one. When he's got time off, he's a paramedic for the St. Louis Fire Department.

"As a paramedic you're licensed to provide what's called advanced life support," explains Fryer.

On most weekend days and some weekday nights you will find
Fryer saving lives.

It all began when he was asked to be on the board of directors of the old July 4 celebration, the VP fair. His job the first year was driving the golf cart for a paramedic.

"It was a very hot year, the first several years of the VP Fair was very hot and the crowds large and the medical emergencies were numerous. So we had a lot to do," recalled Fryer.

You could say the idea of helping people, appealed to him.
So he went to school to become an EMT and later a full-fledged paramedic.

"When they told me he was a lawyer, I said you guys have to be kidding!" says Yvonne Ewing, a paramedic supervisor with the St. Louis Fire Dept.

Even after seven years with the department there are still people who don't know that Ned Fryer leads a double life.

"Ned is conscientious," says Ewing. "He's a hard worker. He doesn't duck and dodge. He gets down and dirty just like the rest of us."

In this job, instead of the statute of limitations he worries about
ventricullar fibrulation. While according to Ned there's still an intellectual challenge, there's also an adrenaline rush.

"That's one aspect of this job as opposed to my other job. Rarely are the moments quite as exciting," says Fryer.

What his colleagues find most impressive is Ned's ability to
stay calm in any situation. What you might find most impressive is that Ned does it all for free.

"I'm paid but I contribute my salary to the St. Louis fire department life saving foundation," says Fryer.

The life saving foundation trains first responders and helps provide the department with up to date equipment and technology.

If you're keeping score at home that's 2 jobs. 12 hours a day.
Often 7 days a week. In making their case, some lawyers tend to overstate things. Ned, apparently is the master of the understatement.

"I have a very understanding family," he says.

So the next time you hear a siren, pull over. There could be a lawyer on board that
ambulance making his case for the benefits of dedication and compassion.

Ned Fryer enjoying a life where there's never a dull moment.

KSDK

The white house is painted with lead

Honestly, it makes me want to vomit. All of a sudden, the media is covering the issue of Lead Paint, and how it affects children.  The dangers of lead based paint have been known for decades, and lead paint has been in existence even longer.  In fact, as far back as the late 1800's, there are stories documented about how sick dogs became from lead paint poisoning- lead based paint, which is thought to withstand the elements better than other paints, was often used to color outdoor dog houses.  There have been thousands of cases in the court systems brought by children and their families against landlords for failing to abate lead based paint from apartment houses.  Still, even in the most egregious of cases, there are no cases holding landlords, toy manufacturers, or anyone else, criminally responsible.  Quite the contrary: building insurance companies now specifically disclaim coverage right in their policies for any claims brought by children affected by lead based paint.  This leaves even kids so severely affected by lead paint that they cannot speak, nor maintain their bodily functions, without any recourse whatsoever.  And you can forget the toy companies. Countries such as China and Mexico, where the toys are manufactured and then covered with toxic paint, protect such profiteers.  Take a gander at this article.  

The brain damage caused by lead paint is irreversible.  The lead based paint tastes "sweet", further urging kids to eat even more of it.  Children naturally put things in their mouth anyway, called pica.  But why should any of this matter, when the politicians need something new to embrace in order to create appeal.  Trust me on this one- its going to be a major presidential campaign point. The flames of american nationalism will be fanned.  You will hear how bad foreign countries are towards our american children.  Strangely ironic, though, the statistics show that the vast majority of kids affected by lead are undocumented immigrants.  

I'm conducting some empirical research studies on the issue myself using my own children as subjects.  On occasion, I feed them large doses of matzoh ball soup.  To date, they have not shown any affects of lead based paint.  It seems that Jewish Penicillin is a vaccine against lead paint poisoning.  Who knew? If any of the presidential candidates happen to mention my work, I hope they remember the little people.  

A little diddy about faith

It's been a while since I have written. Probably common amongst most bloggers. Ironic as it may be, during this holiday season, I find my faith in so many things in my world challenged on so many levels.  

I think it's very important to understand the difference between faith and religion.  Faith is a feeling. Faith is a hunch- a hunch that there is something bigger connecting it all, and connecting us all together.  

Here's a little diddy, all about my faith in my precious prince and princess:

You could say I lost my faith in science and progress

You could say I lost my belief in the holy church

You could say I lost my sense of direction

You could say all of this and worse but

If I ever lose my faith in you

There'd be nothing left for me to do

Some would say I am a lost man in a lost world

You could say I lost my faith in the people on TV

You could say I lost my belief in our politicians

They all seem like game show hosts to me

If I ever lose my faith in you

There'd be nothing left for me to do

There is a part of me hoping that for the things I do as an EMT, some increased degree of goodness, comfort and protection will come to those I love.  It was 4am when the pager went off last Saturday morning- auto accident on the parkway. I didn't hesitate. Fast speed on the parkway + accident + rescue alarm over the pager=something bad. "Make sure you lock the door when you leave" my wife's sleepy voice beckoned.  When my bus got to the scene, the car was fully involved in flames, resting on its side.  Only one car was involved in the accident.  It looked like a movie set.  

The driver literally walked into the ambulance. The odor of alcohol was on his breath. He didn't have a scratch. "Sir, are you hurt anywhere?" "No," he managed to get out of his mouth.  "My son is an EMT".  Sheesh. Talk about a non sequitur.  I don't think it was exactly the good people at Chrysler who kept this man from harm though.  His son's beneficence didn't keep him from getting arrested about an hour later.  

Ripples

I took part in a departmental continuing education class for EMS last Sunday.  There were several stations set up- stretcher operation, stair chair, assisting ALS, things like that. These are the basics.  The things that are so rote, if you will, that you skip every other line while reading about it in a textbook.  But these things, nonetheless, are things you have to know. And know so well.  

One of the stations was how to properly fill out a PCR (patient call report).  One of my preceptors taught me to write "PFA" (psychological first aid) under the "other" category of the sheet when treating a patient.  PFA would consist of saying things to the patient like "Is this your first time in an ambulance? Yeah, mine too." Works wonders, actually.  But how in the world can any EMT get to that point of treating a patient without first getting through these rote basics? And, since there is no specific space on the PCR for indicating that PFA was administered (aside from the "other" line), the EMS system doesn't even expect PFA to be administered.  

Heck, even barbers have externship programs set up so that barber students can practice their profession before going out into the real world.  Not law though.  So long as you score high enough on the bar exam, you're good to go.   So, all you newly admitted attorneys out there, remember- give your clients a little PFA once in a while, even if you're not tested on it on the bar exam.  

And, while you're at it, don't be like all the recent law job applicants I have had to face in the last month.  Don't tell me that you "love the law".  Don't tell me that you really expect to "change the world".  Don't tell me that you want to "do some good in this world" with your law degree.  The only good you really want to do is get rich.  It's ok to use the money the way you want to use it, for, by the time you have earned the money, you have earned the right to do with it what you want.  Just be honest about it.  And cut the crap already.  

My dad was my preceptor.  He died some seven years ago or so, but he is still teaching me all about how to fill out the "other" section on my own personal PCR form. But its still so hard for me to get to that spot on the sheet, even more so nowadays in light of my ( almost) 3 year old princess and my sweet 4 year old hockey star.  There's no school to teach the formalities, or objective requirements, of being a daddy.  But no dad can beat themselves up too much over it all, for that would only detract from the kids. 

Learn. Absorb.  Get as much as you can from your preceptors while you still can.  And make sure that when you throw your stone in the pond, the water's ripples caress the shore with lessons of PFA.  If that's too esoteric for you, then just give the form back to the girl at the desk.   

Health Insurers are Leeches

Interesting story out of Minnesota.  Tom Cary lost his wife to medical malpractice.  His health insurance paid for her treatment. He filed a lawsuit against the negligent doctor.  The health insurer, instead of pooling its resources with Tom to fight and recover the money, put a lien on his deceased wife's estate to recover the money it paid out.  Yes, the premium that Tom paid for years didn't matter.  The health insurer wanted to get paid.  

And get paid they did.  $60,000 out of an undisclosed settlement.  And yes, this can and will happen to you if you have an ERISA plan. 

In addtion to all fo the other reasons you have to contact an attorney, you need to see if you have an ERISA policy and if your health insurer may be entitled to reimbursement before you recover any money!!!

Sweet dreams. 

Just Killin' It

I must have been about 15 years old.  The proportions of the rest of my body had just about caught up with the length of my arms, I was showering everyday, and it was really important to have a boom box. I was the paper boy too.  And upon delivering to one of the houses on my route, I happened upon an outdated amplifier that had a blown fuse.  The visions of stardom erupted.  And my rock star fantasy was ample fuel for my blast-off from paper boy slavery to jukebox hero.  The few days that led up to hooking up my keyboard synthesizer to the amplifier with two other high schoolers who shared my fantasy are blurry at best.  They played guitar and drums.  Together, the three of us rocked, playing cover songs and such.  Well, we never really played for anyone but ourselves, but who cared- we talked a big game.  We were larger than life.  And I brought that feeling home with me.  I talked to my dad about our sound.  He was hesitant to express his true feelings to me at first.  Surely, he was asking himself, 'how could my son, whom I have heard play oversimplified arrangements of broadway tunes on our baby grand piano, want to play a gig in front of a live audience?' He did ask me what the definition of a 'rif' was though.  I was so ready to pounce on the first indication of doubt he might have uttered.  But my dad kept quiet.  Until the next day:

"You know, Rich, there are night clubs in New York City where, if you think you can do it, you can step right up onto the stage, improvise, and play with other musicians.It's mostly jazz bands.  But I will do whatever I can to help you explore it. Who knows where it will take you to." 

What a lucky boy I was. What a good man my dad was.  

Manny Roth was an influential New York City nightclub owner and entertainment entrepeneur.  Manny Roth owned the famous New York establishment Cafe Wha?.  In the early 1960s, Cafe Wha? provided a stage for ameteur acts such as Bob Dylan and Bill Cosby.  Manny Roth is an uncle to David Lee Roth.  So, basically, because I didn't have the balls to pursue my pipe dream, I gave up living a life like Diamond Dave's.  I would have to settle for seeing the Van Halen concert at the Nassau Coleseum a couple of days ago.  Alex Van Halen, the drum player, was a perfect blend of Buddy Rich and 'Animal' from the muppets.  Eddie Van Halen shredded tunes on his guitar. And David Lee Roth was the ultimate entertainer- Bruce Lee spinning back kicks, top hats, outfits, you name it- he pulled out all the stops.   The guy is 53 years old, and he is still 'killin it' out there.  

Just like Diamond Dave, I get such a rush outta 'killin it' as an EMT.  Hope I can still do it when I'm 53.  But the types of calls we have been getting lately have really been buzz kills- a guy riding a bicycle gets hit by a car, and refuses medical attention.  An elderly lady falls, bruises her hip, and calls the EMT taxi service.  A guy gets drunk at a local restaurant. But time and time again, I will respond.  I will do whatever I have to do to capture that clarity of thought I experience when I remove all compassion, all emotion, all sympathy- and help- really help a patient.  

I had my son in my car when the tones came across my pager today, so I couldn't respond to the call.  'The Circle of Life' from the Lion King soundtrack began playing on the radio:

"Daddy, is the song about us?" my sweet 4 year old boy asked innocently, yet so much more keenly than he will ever know.  My dad died before my son met him.  

"Yes," I explained.  "It's about us."