Tom Anselm's "BOOMER TIMES"

SUMMER HAZE AND SUMMER DAZE

2011-07-22T10:39:00.001-07:00

“Can you believe this weather?” and “Stay cool” are the catch phrases in use everywhere you go as our region dips its toe into the fringes of Hades. Not being a big fan of the heat, I’ve been hanging out in climate controlled environments, venturing out just enough to crank up the Fusion’s A/C to travel to Walgreen’s. Figure I’ve nothing to prove by playing golf in triple-digit heat, or accompanying the youngsters to a bacteria-infested public pool. Of course my sympathies and appreciation go to all who must work in this mess. But, not being one of them, I am doing my part for world peace by staying cool.

I know we had these temperature spikes growing up. We coped by spending quality time in the dark of the basement, making forts under an old kitchen table or playing run-ups with a rolled-up sweatsock ball, designed to not break windows. We nailed some pretty nifty hook slides into a folded-up throw rug base on that slick concrete floor. Our post-WWII bungalow was cooled with an attic fan, until we scored some window unit air conditioners, loud as 747’s, one in the dining room and the other nestled in mom and dad’s room. As we got older, and more able to branch out unsupervised, there was the Spanish Lake Bus trip to River Roads Mall, that modern wonder of it’s day, where an afternoon was spent trolling the concourse, annoying shop keepers and passers-by alike. It was there I perfected my two-fingered whistle, much to my friend’s amusement. Nice echo power in that mall, by the way. Then there was the bowling alley on the lower level, with its aromatic mix of cigarette smoke and lane wax. Spencer’s Lanes was known for its multiple pool tables with pastel cloth on the table tops, and sported a certain “rough” clientele, which to 14 year old boys, was the coolest thing about the place.

In the evenings, we’d trek up and down the hills of our neighborhood to the Dairy Queen on Bellefontaine Road, armed with a few bucks. The quarter cones were as big as a size 10 Chuck Taylor Converse High Top, and a cherry Mister Misty was a guaranteed brain freeze. Hours of our youth were idled by, sitting on the adjoining hill, making wisecracks about the patrons as they came and went, and hoping some girls would drive by and offer us a ride. Which, of course, never happened, but guys being guys, hope sprung eternal.

These days, I see sweet reminders of those lazy days when we visit the local custard stands with the little ones. Cold confections, hot pavement, steamy night air, the incessant buzzing of fat June bugs against the yellow neon lights, the “cree, cree” of locusts at sunset…

Some things never change.

But tonight, I’m gonna pop a cold frosty one and slide that thermostat down just a hair in my lovely central air castle.

Well, maybe some things do change, after all.

TO TWEET OR NOT TO TWEET? IS THAT A QUESTION?

2011-06-09T10:26:00.000-07:00

I have a serious confession to make. I have a Facebook account. Have for some time now. Much to my youngest daughter’s chagrin, I might add. I can’t remember when it started, but it was an effort to connect with potential buyers of my novel. Now it seems that I am part of this swiftly growing band of Baby Boomers who are taking to the social media sites in droves.

One source indicates that nearly half of us in this cultural demographic born between 1946 and 1964 are “members” of some sort of social network. Facebook seems to be the “drug of choice”, with Twitter and Linkedin following in hot pursuit. I’ve been invited to Linkedin several times, why I don’t know. I have been known to mispronounce the title as “Link-a-DIN”. It’s supposed to be “Linked-IN”, as in “connected”, right? It seems to me that someone who can’t even say the name correctly has absolutely no business belonging, so no “linking-in” for me.

I do get a kick out of how this phenomenon of uber-connectedness has changed the English language. Words that traditionally were nouns are now verbs. We “Tweet”, text, and email each other to the point of possible injury. Maybe this all started with the use of the word “impacted” as a verb. I always associated this term with a lower digestive ailment. But, as usual, I digress.

The Boomer set has embraced this media-madness by also diving into the Twitter arena. It’s been reported that teens are more the texter types, with “tweeting” going to the generation just below us. One recent article questioned whether Boomer’s joining up in record numbers might kill off these methods of communication. I say, no way. Since there are so many of us, it can only enhance the opportunity for marketers, and thus drive dollars to these sites. But my daughter did tell me, back in my early Facebook days, that I was absolutely not to “friend” her. (There’s that noun-verb confusion again.) Which I respected. Heck, I welcomed it. I really didn’t want to see all her business. Sometimes in this game of parenting, it’s best not to know too much about l what your kid is up to. And I’m not a prolific poster, feeling that no one truly cares that I just made myself this great egg sandwich with swiss cheese on a lightly toasted wheat bagel. I usually just “stalk” other peoples comments, (‘stalk’ being used here in a benign, non-creepy context), and make an occasional smarty-pants observation. Speaking of creepy, some of the stuff people put out there does NOT need to be shared with all the known world!

So it really should come as no surprise that Boomers are jumping on this technology wagon. We were after all the first to learn to program a VCR, embrace the garage door opener, and originally fund the technology of our offspring’s cell phone/laptop/ipod lifestyle. So don’t be too hard on us.

We just like to be seen as still relevant.

NO SUCH THING AS HEAVEN?

2011-06-08T18:31:00.000-07:00

NO SUCH THING AS HEAVEN? SO SAYS FAMOUS PHYSICIST STEVEN HAWKING. HE GOES ON TO SAY THAT NOTION IS A FAIRY TALE FOR PEOPLE AFRAID OF THE DARK. WELL, DR. HAWKING, IN SPITE OF YOUR ENORMOUS BRAIN POWER, I SAY YOU GOT THIS ONE ALL WRONG, PAL.

NOW, I DON’T KNOW IF HEAVEN’S UP IN THE CLOUDS, OR A GLORIOUS STATE OF MIND, OR IF WE REALLY CAN HANG WITH THE ANGELS WHEN WE SHUFFLE OFF THIS MORTAL COIL. BUT I’M PRETTY SURE THAT INEVITABLE DIRT NAP ISN’T THE END OF US FOR GOOD.

TO FOLLOW HAWKING’S WAY OF THINKING, WHY NOT EVERYBODY JUST DO WHAT THEY WANT, ROB BANKS, LIE TO THEIR MOM’S, STEAL LITTLE KIDS CANDY AND OTHERWISE VIOLATE ALL THEM OTHER COMMANDMENTS WHENEVER THEY FEEL LIKE IT? IF THERE’S NO HEAVEN, THERE’S NO REASON TO BE GOOD, IS THERE?

I SAY THIS IS KIND OF REASONING IS WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. HUMANS ARE THE ONLY BEINGS ON THIS EARTH THAT HAVE A CONSCIENCE. WE ALSO MUST HAVE A GOAL TO STRIVE FOR. WE FOLLOW THAT CONSCIENCE TO REACH THAT GOAL. AND THAT GOAL, DEAR SIR, IS HEAVEN.

I’M NOT AFRAID OF THE DARK, DR. HAWKING, BUT I AM AFRAID OF THAT OTHER PLACE WHERE BAD FOLKS GO. AND I HOPE THAT ONE DAY YOU WILL USE THAT INTELLECT GOD GAVE YOU TO COME TO YOUR SENSES.

(FROM 'I'M JUST SAYIN' " COMMENTARY, NEWSCHANNEL 5, KSDK, ST. LOUIS, JUNE 1, 2011)

BACK IN THE (BLOG) SADDLE AGAIN

2011-06-02T10:43:00.000-07:00

So wow, it's been a while since I hit this site. I have been busy, believe it or not, with retirement activities. Got into some subbing at a local school, did tutoring for kids out of school for various reasons. Got hooked up with a talent agency, with head shots and a resume and auditions. Kind of a shot in the dark, to see if anyone wants a bald guy with wrinkles and a crooked smile for any print stuff out there, or commercials. Had a few auditions, but nothing yet. All it takes is one, they say, and they also say that every "no" is that much closer to that "yes". It's been fun and a learning experience, so far, if not profitable.
Also have gotten on TV with a commentary segment on a local NBC affiliate. The segment is called "I'M JUST SAYIN'", and can be seen at http://www.ksdk.com/. Scroll all the way down and I have just put on the air about Steven Hawking saying there is no heaven. I will post it here as well. Now THAT has really been fun, and even pays a few bucks, enough for a couple rounds of golf, to which I continue to be addicted.
Jill and I have decided they will be carrying us out of this house, what with the market being so depressed, and where would we go anyway. So we have finished the basement, which turned out AWSM, as they say in tweet-land, and are getting the outside painted grey with white trim, what we wanted to do 19 years ago, except our kids cried that they would live in a "depressing house." So much for those brats who have all grown up and moved out and started their own gangs... Funny that our youngest, Joanie, 2o, said the exact same thing. Then again, she's been at Mizzou for two years and plans to be out of the house as soon as she can anyway, so I think we've learned our lesson.
ANYWAY, I am back at this, will post my columns from the Suburban Journals of St.Louis, and maybe even get into some videos. Once I find my way around youtube. And if I get a flipcam.
Back at ya'....
Tom

2010-09-13T14:55:00.000-07:00

Well, it has been since November 2009 that I have posted to this site. It's about time that I got back to this. I will post an explanatory article to tell what I have been up to these past few months. Some great things have been happening, and I hope you are interested in what may be coming. More to follow soon.
Tom

WEDDING BILLS? HEY, IT'S ONLY MONEY!

2009-11-11T18:17:00.000-08:00

We have a wonderful wedding coming up over the near horizon. It is the lovely Mary Pat who will be gliding down the aisle. It is hard to believe that in a month from today, little MP will be a Mrs. What a stunning bride she will be!
Our daily mail is full of response cards, most of them saying “yes”, with only a few regrets. And that is all well and good, since you write them out hoping people will attend. But anybody who has done this lately knows the drill. There is supposed to be something like a 20% expectancy of “no’s”, so maybe you “overbook” a little. You know, “Old Uncle Gerald and Aunt Zelda, they won’t come. They never show up, God love ‘em.”
So guess whose card showed up in the affirmative today? Boys and girls, we ain’t nowhere near that number with about a month to go.
No worries, though. I can stuff a ham sandwich in my tux coat, maybe throw a few more plates out. Jill likes celery sticks and dip, and Joanie, she can snatch a couple of chicken strips from the grandkids. I am reminded of the scene in the movie “Father of the Bride” where Steve Martin learns of the passing of an old business associate, and he yells “YES, two less!” to the horror of his family.
But really, in the grand scheme of things, it’s only money.
Speaking of which, the mail also yielded an envelope with a retirement projection I requested. I immediately began pounding the calculator, checking the numbers to see when this momentous occasion might occur. What with our investments… check that, the bequest from my parents, and Jill’s retirement account having taken a beating over the past year, this event of bidding adieu to the scholars of North County will, alas, need to be delayed. Looks like I’m showing up in khaki’s and button-down’s for a few years more.
But like I said, it’s only money.
And today, again courtesy of the friendly mailman (ours really is a nice guy), we got an annual report from an organization called Meds and Food for Kids. I think I may have mentioned them here before. It seems that this St. Louis-based foundation that produces a peanut butter-like nutritional product called Medika Mamba that saves over 4000 Haitian kids a year from starvation and malnutrition is launching a capital funds campaign. They have visions of replacing the current converted two-story house they now use to put together their life-saving concoction with a modern production facility.
And so amidst the wedding preparations, the fretting about post-work finances, and the very real fact that can you believe there are only 65 more shopping days left ‘til Christmas, it looks like a check will soon be in the mail to bring a smile to that young child with peanut butter on her chin.
Hey, you all know it as well as I… it’s only money.

ME NO TECHY... ME JUST SLOW

2009-09-11T21:07:00.000-07:00

You could never accuse me of being on the cutting edge of technology. I was the last kid on the family block to have such now-commonplace gadgets as a garage door opener and a cordless phone. I play the old cassette tape recorder in the basement when I work out. And I still don’t know how to program the VCR. What’s that you say… there’s something called TIVO? Well, what will they think of next?
However, tech challenged as I am, I have recently become a member of the Facebook family. This social networking phenomenon started in 2006 boasts over 200 million users. I have run into people from long-past years, and even found out some things about the family before my wife, which is a real coup since she could have been a top agent for the CIA the way she gathers information. She might tell me something and I smugly say “Yeah, I knew that, saw it on Facebook,” to which she merely rolls her eyes and laughs softly at the idea of Grampa hob-knobbing in cyberspace with the young and restless of our clan. From my exhaustive research, which mainly consisted of talking with my daughters and my students, I have found out that there are many other avenues to spread the most inane facts of ones life to the universe. They carry names like MySpace and Bebo for the younger set, Linkedin for business purposes, and Skype for those into the visual method of e-talk. Then, there’s that old reliable, texting. Speaking of which, I don’t leave messages on anyone’s cell phone anymore, since they never checked them anyway. The return call consisted of this: “Hey, you called?” “Yeah, didn’t you get my message?”
To which the answer was always “no”, delivered in a somewhat exasperated tone. So I’ve joined the ranks of the Thumb Warriors, and the results are mixed. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think the fat little digit that faces in a different direction from its four mates was made for such a dexterous activity. Maybe I can invent a new device where good old Thumbkin functions as he was meant to and we can tap-tap those miniscule keys like the Good Lord intended when He invented index fingers and Blackberry’s in the first place!
As popular as these methods may be, there are some problems.
Texting while driving is like rolling down the street with your eyes closed. Once you put something into the air, or wherever it goes, it’s out there, baby, for all to see. And talk about addictive. With all due respect to those who partake in e-talk, is it really necessary to tell your network that “I just got home and boy am I tired.” So go to bed, already!
I have a theory. All these electrical impulses bouncing around in the stratosphere at all hours of day and night may be the real reason behind global warming.
Hey, maybe I should Tweet about it?
(SUBURBAN JOURNALS OF ST. LOUIS, MO SEPTEMBER, 2009)

EVERY NEW BEGINNING COMES FROM SOME OTHER BEGINNINGS END

2009-08-20T18:44:00.000-07:00

Yellow seems to be the prevailing color these days, especially on the highways and byways of our fair community. Those large purveyors of our youth, the school buses, are signaling the start of yet another school year.
For some, kids and parents alike, it’s just the latest piece of the recurring puzzle. Shopping for shoes, a new backpack, maybe even a computer on tax-free weekend. A fond farewell to the lazier days of a summer well spent.
But for others, those entering into a new era, it can be a time of tears and trepidation.
Our little clan is feeling it at both ends of the school age spectrum. At the front side, the older grandkids are stepping out into the world of pencils and crayons with full force. The first two girls are big-shot first graders now, relative veterans in the game. The next, the first boy, is tackling full day kindergarten. It was a precious moment when Clara, one of the vets, called her younger cousin the day before school started.
“Don’t be nervous, Bubba. I was at first but then it’s okay. You get used to it.” A bit of love at the “littles” level.
Now at the other end of the school span, we have the story of the Joanster. Off to mid-Missouri we trekked last week, two carloads of clothes and bags and shoes and hampers in tow. As we packed up that morning, I stopped for a moment and looked around the neighborhood. Where did that little kid go who at two years old grabbed the string of ID cards and her big sisters swimsuit and toddled 2 blocks to the community pool? Who at four insisted she spoke Spanish, and jabbered incessantly to her Cabbage Patch doll with the broken piece in the noggin that she named Baby Shaky Head? The kid who rolled up and down the sidewalk for hours on her scooter with best friend Sammy, their pink oversized helmets jostling all the way?
How could it be that this beautiful birdie was about to fly?
Those nests we build seem to take a lifetime to finish. Then, in a day, in an hour, in an instant, they’re empty. For us, this marks the end of a 34-year era. For her, it’s the start of a grand adventure. Joanie’s mommy, who has used up her yearly allotment of Kleenex during these past few days, has a favorite quote for moments such as this. It comes from the song “Closing Time”, and it goes “Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end.”
For years, we had a poster that also helps sum up what this is all about. The script is simple, yet profound.
“There are two great things parents can give their children. One is roots. The other, wings.”
As we and countless others out there bid goodbye to our own, some for a day, some for longer, we pray that these roots have grown deep enough.
And that those wings may they have the strength to reach heights unimagined.

RECAREERING IS NEW BUZZ WORD FOR THE DAY

2009-07-29T10:27:00.000-07:00

It seems that everywhere you turn lately, people are losing their jobs. Or their organization is downsizing, leaving them wondering if the next visit to the boss’s office will include a complimentary cardboard box for their personals. This economic downturn that we are experiencing is being felt in every facet of our lives, every profession, and every community, as well as every age group. I know of more than a few men and women who have been cut from the payrolls and are having considerable trouble securing a new job. Age discrimination is supposed to be illegal, but one friend of ours decided to color her hair from a lovely silver to up her chances in the job derby. And guess what… it worked.
My own profession of teaching is not immune to troubles. Generally considered a recession-proof field, education is seeing not only cuts in staff numbers but also an overall reduction in new hires. Some boards of education are being forced to face the problem of increased classroom numbers in order to meet their fixed budgets. They are simply not filling the open jobs that have come about through attrition.
There is a problem here. Some folks in the older ages who find themselves jobless have taken up “re-careering”. Originally termed for those who have retired and then still find a need to use their skills in other full-time pursuits, we are finding many who are looking to education as their ace in the hole. Our own state has a controversial program that is designed to speed up the certification process for those who currently have a degree. Those for this plan see it as an opportunity to bring experienced and mature professionals in the sciences and other areas into the classrooms. The opponents, some of whom are the teacher associations and some of whom are school districts themselves, cite the lack of methods training offered in the certification process.
I can see both sides as having valid points, but lean toward the former, especially if the new teacher can handle the rigors of 25+ not-always-so-eager learners for 7 hours a day, 186 days a year. Of course, what with the aforementioned cut backs in many districts, these folks may have difficulty finding that opening.
There is an emotional side to all of this, to be sure. Having to leave a place where you have enjoyed not only the work but also the people you see everyday is not easy. Then, the task of retooling the resume, seeking job leads, working the internet, networking and otherwise selling yourself all over again can take its toll on even the most optimistic job-seeker. Especially now, when much of what they are hearing is not good news. On the other hand, some have been able to use this time as a rebirth. They really didn’t like the job, or the people. This layoff might just be a blessing in disguise, giving them a good excuse to branch out into areas they have always wanted to try but feared to because of the security of their current position. But now that the rug has been pulled out from under them, they have the chance to take that road less traveled.
I guess the message here is one of hope. In spite of the times, there are opportunities.

(SUBURBAN JOURNALS, ST. LOUIS, MO JULY 29, 2009)

BOOMER ICONS HAVING BAD WEEK

2009-07-18T09:37:00.000-07:00

It was a tough stretch a few weeks back for some iconic Baby Boomers. After a long and many would say courageous battle with cancer, Farrah Fawcett passed away. The Texas girl with the fabulous set of teeth who did more for the feathered hairstyle than The Six-Million Dollar Man did for slow-motion running burst on to the scene with her 1976 poster that became the best-selling pinup in history. That shot was considered somewhat risqué at the time, but when you see it again, it is tame by today’s standards. Hard to believe she was one of “Charlie’s Angels” for just the first season. To many, she will always be the Ultimate Angel. Maybe she is again.
Then, some mere hours after her passing, another Boomer of renown hit the deck. The self-proclaimed “King of Pop”, Michael Jackson, ended his time on this stage in characteristically controversial fashion. The news was abuzz with “was it a heart attack, an overdose, an accident? Did his doctor have something to do with it?” Of course, as in many stories such as this, we may never know the true cause of his demise. The world went into a weeks-long mourning (at least the news world) over the loss of an inarguably talented but equally tormented soul. Nothing can diminish the stamp he put on the face of music. His contribution to the genre of music videos may never be equaled. I stood as enthralled as the next person the first time I saw “Thriller” performed. He had a gift like no other. But, like many in that business, his demons managed to overwhelm any good he had to offer. There will forever be the questions regarding the nature and extent of his involvement with young boys, acquittals notwithstanding. Wonder will always exist concerning his bizarre physical transformation. And now, the allegations of his possible drug abuse.
The memorial to his life, televised live throughout the day and costing the cash-strapped city of Los Angeles a reported $4,000,000, just seemed to punctuate how skewed this planets values have turned during his tenure as pop icon. Every news outlet that could hustle a camera had its crews poised to capture the most minute overdone moment. And now that it is over, we will have a front-row seat at the sad drama of his family’s fight over custody of his children and control of his estate.
Then there is the story of Billy Mays. Born in 1958, this hard-charging guy from Pennsylvania, who got his sales chops hawking portable wash machines along the Atlantic City Boardwalk, takes an early exit from what was promising to be a fast climb to an iconic status of his own. A tag line on his website, “Life’s A Pitch, Then You Buy”, seemed to be ironically prophetic for the way he went out. For me, this man’s death was the saddest in the string. Regular guy hits it big, and then, kaboom, it’s over in an instant.
So it’s “Farewell, Farrah”, “Later, Michael”, and “Godspeed, Billy.”
Three very different additions to the pages of history.
(From "A Boomer's Journal". Suburban Journals of St. Louis, MO July, 2009)

TO MOVE OR NOT TO MOVE... THAT IS THE BOOMER QUESTION

2009-07-03T07:20:00.000-07:00

Remember that old cliché that the only thing constant is change? Well, this took on a whole new meaning the other Sunday when we watched a rainy afternoon’s worth of old home movies. How little the trees were 15 years ago! And where did all our neighbors go?
That kid in the movie riding her training-wheeled bike is now getting ready for college. Jill and I had legitimate dark hair. And how about that cordless phone! Looks like a walkie-talkie from an old WW II flick. But one of the things that struck us most was wondering how the holy heck we survived six kids in this house.
Speaking of this house, it has indeed served us well. But now, as littlest birdie gets set to fly, it’s a bit more than we need.
This ticklish subject of downsizing enters our conversation more and more these days, as it does for many of the Baby Boomer generation. Talk of moving brings many questions to this demographic as they leave behind the family homestead to enter condos, apartments lofts and active adult communities. This last is a fairly new idea in the housing market, offering amenities such as pool and spa, golf courses, card rooms and planned outings.
People are selling off their extra furnishings, gifting their progeny with their very own “Amazing Rubbermaid Tubs O’ Stuff” accumulated over a lifetime of kid-raising, and rolling the lawnmower down to the curb with a “Free” sign slung over the handle.
And maybe this is a good thing.
When our parents died, we had plenty of issues to contend with, not the least of which was what to do with their life’s accumulation.
My brothers and I still marvel at how much mom was able to squirrel into her small two bedroom retirement apartment. And Jill’s parents had a two-story house-full that took over a year to parcel out.
My bride’s semi-annual purging party will pretty much save our kids from that task. But there are just some things you can’t part with.
I’ve managed to hang on to a few containers of my past, in spite of her not-so-subtle hints to toss my Boy Scout badges and City Champ jacket.
Any move would require some decisions. Even a math-challenged dude like me can figure out that it makes no sense to go smaller but keep a similar mortgage. We’ve considered condos and even renting, but that means no yard or basement for the kids to escape to when grandpa has had it with the eleventeenth screaming lap around the family room.
Our ideal getaway would be a ranch style with a yard and garage and finished basement, near highways and shopping and some nice restaurants, and within shooting distance of at least 3 cheap golf courses (I snuck in that last one, Jill). And honestly, we can’t imagine a life where the short-bus ride to the casino is the highlight of the week.
So do we stay or do we go?
This old neighborhood is looking better every day.
( From "A Boomer's Journal", Suburban Journals of St. Louis, MO July 1, 2009)

STOP AND SMELL THE SUMMER

2009-06-17T07:05:00.000-07:00

Here is the latest column from the Suburban Journals, St.Louis, MO
**************************************

I have many gifts in life, not the least of which is the gift of time. My job gives me some summer days when I have really nothing to do. That is a bonus that I do not take lightly. If you ever get a day like that, or even a few hours, here are a couple of things that you might consider.

* Get under a tree, lie on your back, and observe the intricacy of the branches. Watch how they interact with the wind, how the sun shifts across the spaces, the shadows on the leaves, and how you can just barely make out a patch of blue here, a cloud there.

* Next time there’s a rainstorm, don’t be afraid to get wet. Be careful of lightning, and be somewhere where you can change easily, but try standing out in it for even a few minutes. You will laugh out loud at how totally drenched you can get in such a short time.
* Wake up before sunrise and turn east. See the horizon as it lightens, first pink, then pale blue, then into the days yellow. Close your eyes and feel the warmth grow as the minutes pass.

* Sit with a one-year-old and watch her eat a popsicle with only a diaper on (the kid, not you!). Fight the urge to wipe away that sweet goo rolling down her chin and drip-dripping onto her fat tummy. After all, it doesn’t bother her one bit. All she knows is how great that cold feels on those swollen gums. Marvel at how she fights to get that last morsel in the middle, by now a soft, slippery sliver that will not be lost. Then, when she hands you the empty stick… get her another.

* Read a book in two days. Keep it under 250 pages. Blaze through it like Mine That Bird shooting the rail at the Kentucky Derby. Escape into the characters, devour their world. Laugh, and cry. (I have a suggestion, but that would just be too much self-promotion.)

* Play 9 holes by yourself on a weekday. The crowds are back to work (sorry, guys), and you can be as bad as you want, with no pressure from buddies commenting on your shots, or worse, saying nothing as they suppress their grins as you smoke that egg hard right and a good 20 yards into the thicket. On the flip side, you also have no obligation to insincerely mumble praise at your opponents drive, even as you secretly wish it had hop-skipped just past the ladies tee. Playing alone is underrated, really. You can talk to yourself without fear of commitment to an institution, doing your own hushed commentary…”Anselm needs this slippery 15 footer for his first U.S. Open.” Or drop a few balls anywhere you want and keep hitting til you get it right. Then, after paring that #5 where you always go 2 over, just sit in the cart and let the waving breeze cool your forehead. Oh, and don’t dare keep score. No one would believe you anyway. Hey, it’s a practice round, dude.

Yeah, I know I’m spoiled. My wish for you this fine day is one of time, time to do something simple that adds to your enjoyment of this wonderful season called summer.

CHECK OUT THIS BOOK

2009-06-02T09:21:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine, John Pearson, has published a novel about his first year as a teacher in the Texas schools. I have reviewed it here.
Check it out if you get a chance.
Take care. T

LEARN ME GOOD… A REVIEW

John Pearson has a future in stand-up comedy if he ever decides to leave the classroom. But from the tone of his stories in his book LEARN ME GOOD, it doesn’t appear that will be anytime soon. The kids he encountered in his first year teaching certainly supplied him with a wealth of material to spin his tales, all with a minimum of 10 laughs-out-loud each. And Mr. Pearson throws his own two cents in with each vignette, showing the reader that he has been bitten, and badly, by this “educamakashun thing.”
He takes us through a school year that has a steady turnover of students, some for the better, some for the worse, and makes us hear the voices of children of all manner and ability who are crying out for a good educational experience. We meet Esteban, who calls out firmly and forthrightly each time he answers, even as he gets them wrong again and again, and Marvin, who likes to choke people “just a little”, and Re’Joice, who has to defend herself against the moniker that has been hung on her. And then there’s Mark Peter, my personal favorite. He had a way of making himself invisible, borrowing from the world of professional wrestling, no less. If you can survive a kid like him, you can survive anyone who may come your way in a career.
Amidst references to “Cool Hand Luke” and “Little House on the Prairie”, John Pearson shows us that he understands this business and is going to ‘keep on keeping on’ to figure it out. It is clear the his future students will be the better for it.
As the main character Jack Woodson would say to someone who forgot his name, “Nice job, Barry.”
You have to read the book to find out what that one means.

Tom Anselm, teacher and author
YOU’RE NEVER TOO OLD FOR SPACE CAMP
Booklocker.com
2009

LEARN ME GOOD
lulu.com
2006

NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER GIVE UP...NEVER. NEVER. NEVER. NEVER.

2009-05-31T11:44:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, I saved a life. No, I didn’t pull a baby out of a burning building or give someone CPR. Nothing that dramatic. All I did was pick up a little worm that was struggling across my patio and lay him (or her?...how can you tell?) in the soft wet grass. I wrote about how this seemingly insignificant act had great meaning for that oligochaete. The reason I bring this up today is that I swear I saw him (her?... how do you tell?) the other day under the patio chair and I do believe he/she/it nodded as if to say “thanks” before squirming into the yard.
There are some days we may feel just like that worm. For some reason known only to that Big Gardener in the Sky, we find ourselves struggling across some tough pavement. The sun may be beating on our backs. The concrete is getting dryer and we are starting to think it would be a whole heck of a lot easier to just shrivel up and quit. Maybe it doesn’t look like anybody is going to come by and lift us up into that cool lawn.
This may have hit home for those of us in the Boomer demographic. We are seeing our investments, if we have any, taking a nose dive unprecedented in modern economic history. There may be a lay off involved, and the subsequent deleterious effects of the ending of medical coverage, danger of mortgage default, and the sheer loss of something meaningful to do with our days. It could be a decline in health…hey, we ain’t getting any younger, sports fans. Or troubles with grown children, for whom we never really stop being mom and dad, no matter how old or far away they may be. Of course, we seasoned citizens have no corner on this market of difficulties. Those raising families face equally challenging issues such as child care and schooling and what the heck to feed this gang of mongrels who will not get off my leg for one sweet second so I can sneak downstairs and do a load of laundry before we all end up wearing plastic bags to church!
Whatever the burden, we may be looking for that somebody to pick us up off the steamy pavement. Whether this comes in the form of a kind word, a favor, or a few bucks to tide us over, the help would be welcome.
Still, none of this may happen. Then, it just takes perseverance. As in all things, bad and good, this situation we find ourselves in is temporary. And like good old Mr. or Mrs. Worm (does anyone out there know how you can tell?! Seriously!), we need to just keep on wiggling, hoping for that lift, but willing to crawl it out if need be.
In 1941, during the worst period of the German bombing of Great Britain, Winston Churchill spoke to students at his former school. That speech became one of great inspiration and hope to the beleaguered English citizenry.
His words can be ours, as we fight the good fight against what may seem like insurmountable odds.
“Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never.”
(from "A Boomer's Journal, Suburban Journals of St. Louis, MO May, 2009)

IS LIFE FLYING BY OR IS IT JUST A FIG NEWTON OF MY IMAGINATION?

2009-05-19T13:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes is just seems like life is flying by. Before you know it, it’s Friday again. Maybe it’s a function of having a big family, or maybe it’s just the phase we’re going through. For some reason, I expected it to be different.
They say that when you hit age 40, you’re over the hill. So I guess being two decades past that, I must be slipping down that slope at a pretty good clip. When I was younger, I wondered if it would slow down some, you know, as the hair thinned and the knees creaked as much as my rocking chair. But no!
Which brings me to our youngest child’s graduation. Yeah, The Joanster, little Joansie, Joana Wee, has finished high school with flying colors and is soon to be a Tiger. Our baby is a woman!
How did this happen, all of a sudden? Wasn’t it just the other day she put on her sisters two-piece, plucked the resident cards from the junk drawer and strolled 3 blocks down to the local pool. At two years old. Jill came home and said, “Hey, where’s Joanie?” Did we panic? Is the Pope German? Running along Halls Ferry like we were on fire, pleading with people walking their dogs, hearts constricted like the Grinch’s. Thank God the life guards knew us and didn’t turn us into Social Services.
Then there’s the next one up. Mary Pat is marrying in November. Huh? Little MP, the kid who regularly donned pink snow boots and stocking cap to watch TV… in June. The athlete who should have never been allowed to run cross country, since her face always turned redder than Mark McGuire’s before Congress. THAT Mary Pat?
And did I mention the wifey is retiring. Wait just a minute here, sports fans. I got four years on her! Just kidding, since she has fought the good fight for a long time, and is definitely in line for this move.
The flip side of all these significant events, once you get past the amazement and the tears and the “Huh?’s”, is that me and that retired lady will be empty-nesters in a couple of months. The recent grad thinks that maybe we’re being a bit too giddy about this prospect, even as she “stresses out” about moving on and out. And maybe we are, but it is hard to contain our glee. It feels like a long, slow, deep breath, followed by a smile of gratitude, and accomplishment. Theirs, and ours, really. Just a memory are the years of doing the happy dance after finding a dollar in the dryer, or cashing in the coin jar to get milk and formula. Gone but not forgotten are the long nights of wondering if one child would ever stop throwing up, or another would ever get home, or still another would ever find their path.
At 60, I guess I’ve put in a good 75% of my allotted time. A glance at my own high school classlist shows a few who can’t say that. So, trust me, I’m not complaining.
But maybe I need to borrow a line from Captain James Kirk of the Starship Enterprise if things are going stay at this warp speed.
“Scottie, I need more power!”

(COURTESY THE SUBURBAN JOURNALS OF ST. LOUIS, MO MAY, 2009)

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE CLASS OF 2009

2009-05-05T19:18:00.000-07:00

(I will be posting the biweekly columns that I write for the Suburban Journals of St. Louis. They appear courtesy of that publication.)

What a crazy time of the year is springtime.
A quick look at our calendar has us booked for nearly two outings every weekend, not to mention the preschool graduations and baccalaureate and birthdays and end of school celebrations during the weekdays. Not that I’m complaining, since every happening is one of joy and accomplishment.
One of the most significant of all spring events is the graduation ceremony. With each, there is the requisite commencement address. That word, “commencement’, has always intrigued me. It’s very meaning shouts” new beginning.”
Back in 1997, a writer produced a famous graduation speech. It started out with the words “Wear Sunscreen.” I read through it yesterday, and found it impossible to improve upon. But here’s what I would say, if given a chance.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Class of 2009”.
Albert Einstein, that famous mathematician was also quite a philosopher. He once said “Not everything that can be counted, counts; and not everything that counts can be counted.” And this from a guy who made his living from numbers.
Another fairly famous guy by the name of Jesus had something to say about worrying, something we all do even though we know it does absolutely nothing to change what happens. When he talked about the birds in the air getting their supper, he was telling us to chill out. Most of the awful things we think will happen seldom do.
I learned way too late in life from my mom and mother-in-law and wife to never pass up a chance to be nice to somebody. A kind word, a simple compliment, even a pat on the back. And the corollary to this is “Smile so much people will wonder what you’re up to.”
I am also learning to try everyday to do my best, knowing that some days, that may not amount to a whole heck of a lot. But on others, the ones that work, my head can hit the pillow wondering just how I could possibly top this day.
Don’t dress in the dark, or at least lay out your socks the night before. Put a hat on in the winter. And always wear clean underwear. The Joaquin Andujar Maxim, Youneverknow, holds true here.
Old Abe Lincoln was right. Honesty is the best policy. Sometimes, your integrity is the only thing you can call your own.
If you want to excel, practice. A lot. Very few of us are so gifted we can just wing it. There is a reason Tiger Woods plays so often on Sundays.
Strive to love, but also strive to learn to accept love, for it is the essence of life that is too often invisible to the eye.
Never pass up an opportunity to hold a baby.
And remember that the three most welcome words in any speech are “So, in conclusion.”
So, in conclusion…
Trust in a Higher Power, what ever you may conceive that to be. You may stray from this in the coming years, but know that He is always there, peeking out of the blinds, waiting for your headlights to come down the street.
And, oh yeah… the “sunscreen” thing?
That, too.

TRIBAL PRIDE: FROM BOOK SIGNING TO SEMPER FI

2009-04-20T14:28:00.000-07:00

Here is the story about the book signing.... with an added bonus at the end.
____________________________________________

Sometimes a guy can get the full yin and yang of life in just one short day.
A few weekends ago, my glorious daughters arranged for a gathering at Moon Beans Café on St. Francois Street in the heart of Old Town Florissant to celebrate the publishing of my novel and hold a book signing. What they almost did was throw dear old dad into panic mode when, trying to surprise me, they had Jill order some books from the publisher. When I casually checked their message center one night before going to bed, I saw a giant order. Of course, I had placed no such order, and wondered who in their right mind would steal my credit card number and then order my books. The Joanster roused mom from deep sleep to explain the whole clandestine affair. A book signing? So this was real? Did I need a haircut? Better get some good pens. What if nobody shows up? How many copies should we get? Needless to say, sleep did not come easily that night. I had no idea what to expect from this, but I ordered up a case of books and hoped for the best. And the best is exactly what we got.
All the grandkids were there to lend good old Paw Paw their moral support. Luckily, the sun was strong and the sky as blue as a robin’s egg, so they pretty much had the run of the grounds. The event started out slowly but for the next three hours solid we had a full house. Family and friends, friends of family, two couples we hadn’t seen in at least 20 years, teachers from my school, even a guy who came for his mother.
“She’s an avid reader of your column, and asked me to get her a book,” he said.
Mrs. Fischer, I hope you’re enjoying the story.
To say I was grateful would be gross understatement. More like profoundly humbled. The setting was charming, the food tasty, the weather perfect—but most of all, the love was palpable.
I looked up once, eying the young with the old, the relative meeting the friend, and literally got a lump in my throat that wouldn’t go down. And believe it or not, we sold out! Took orders for another dozen copies! Success beyond my wildest expectations, for sure.
And now for the yang.
One of our own, a nephew, is a Marine lance corporal, and had just finished intense training for overseas duty. He was home that same day for a short visit. He was soon to ship out to the dangerous hill country of a foreign land. That night, we gathered to honor his commitment, to wish him well. To pray him home.
The sweetness of that afternoon blended into the bittersweet of the night. Pride in success, but even more pride in one about to carry out his duty to country.
And all in just one short day.

(SUBURBAN JOURNALS OF ST. LOUIS, MO APRIL, 2009)

DA BOOK, BOSS... DA BOOK! (and DA BOOK SIGNING)

2009-04-03T15:52:00.000-07:00

I was afraid to open the package. Didn't know just what it would look like. Would it be big enough? Would it look professionally done? How did the cover art work?
Fear not, said a Guy in a pretty Good Book. So I tore along the dotted line and out popped....
THE BOOK!
Yes, sports fans, YOU'RE NEVER TOO OLD FOR SPACE CAMP is alive and well and looks great even if I do say so myself. And people are buying it, as well. It is available at http://booklocker.com/books/3923.html.

Funny story here.
The other night, I was checking the messages from the publisher, BookLocker.com. They had one there about resubmitting an order for four dozen books. WHAT?! I didn't order no 48 books, at a bill that was more than I paid for my first car!! What was going on? How could this happen? I looked closely at the invoice. My credit card number was correct. The security code was correct. I couldn't figure out who would steal my credit card and THEN try to buy my books? It just didn't make any sense.
I was in a growing state of cognitive dissonance, when The Joanster walked in to the room.
"What's wrong, Dad?" I explained.
She grinned, and left the room.
In comes the lovely and talented wife, groggy from being woken up out of a sound sleep.
"Jill, somebody ordered a %#$$-load of books and used our credit card and what the hell is happening?" said I, as I put the finishing touches on a query back to the publisher, who had noted that they deleted the order and awaited further instructions from me.
Jill smiled, ran her fingers through her hair, and said "I ordered them. It was supposed to be a surprise."
HUH?
"Yeah, you're lovely daughters wanted to do a surprise book signing for you so we ordered the books. They are so excited, and we wanted you to see it in the article in the Journal this week." (She was referring to a story done by Brian Flinchpaugh of the Suburban Journal, where I write my column. You can see it at http://suburbanjournals.stltoday.com/north/.)
So after awhile, I calmed down, resubmitted the order and marveled at how I am not worthy of such love.
The book signing is April 11 at MoonBeans, 450 St. Francois Street, in the heart of Old Town Florissant, from 10 to 1 pm.
Come one, Come all.
Should be fun.

Kicking and SCREAMING into the 21st Century

2009-03-11T08:57:00.000-07:00

I am pushing the envelope, stepping out of the box and I hope to stay out, moving out of my comfort zone... in short, I am embracing the technology available in this modern world to promote my writing.

At a workshop this weekend the speaker said that if you are serious about marketing what you write "Shame on you if you are not on Facebook." My youngest daughter The Joanster is appalled that I am contemplating this. But guess what, hon.... daddy is heading in that direction. I already have a webpage on Wetpaint.com called, amazingly enough, "Tom Anselm" (clever, no?) You can get there simply by doing tomanselm@wetpaint.com.

And of course if you are reading this, you know about the blog, the blaaag, the blaahggg.

(What a weird word. I heard only last month that is comes from a contraction of sorts from "weblog". Now it is a standard part of the English language.)

Anyway.....

Stay tuned for the book... should be fun.

Catchya.

THE NEXT " GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL" (right!)

2009-01-10T10:35:00.000-08:00

Here is the first chapter of You're Never Too Old For Space Camp, my novel about the fascinating adventures of a veteran middle school special ed. teacher. Should be published by spring, if all goes well.

YOU’RE NEVER TOO OLD FOR SPACE CAMP

ONE

“Why’d they have to pick yellow?”
I wondered this to myself, half out loud, as the school buses rolled into the lot. A black girl with blue eye shadow and pink fingernails over by the door glanced at me with an absent look, and then went back to checking her cell phone. Over by the benches, three would-be studs were crowding around a lass who was obviously what one could call an “early-bloomer.” She was drinking up the attention, until one of the guys accidentally “broke wind”, as they say in polite circles. And loudly, at that. With a roll of her eyes, and an “Oh…My….Gawd”, she spun off, in search of girl friends to hug and squeal with. As for the three young men, they collapsed into puddles of laughter, beating each other on the back with calls of “what a dork’ and “you loser” and other less printable epithets.
Ah, yes, it was that time-honored moment, the exact end of summer, the beginning of who knows what will happen.
It was the first day of school at Cedar Grove Middle School .

“So, Joe. I can see that you haven’t gotten any brains over the summer,” said a voice to my right.
It was Eddie Railey.
Eddie and I had gotten to Cedar Grove within a few years of each other. We had played in a softball league together before that, and I told him about the job opening up in Social Studies. It was hard to believe that was over 15 years ago.
We no longer play softball, by the way.
“Mr. Railey, sir….Hey, I guess we both are dummies, since you’re standing here, too.”
It was standard practice for teachers to complain about how fast the first day of school comes, even though most of us still felt that tingle of coming attractions we had as a kid, like ”who will be in my class..will that pretty red-haired girl sit next to me?” And now, “will I be able to do this for yet another year?”
“How was your summer? Overall, I mean,” said Eddie.
“Good enough. Got a lot done around the house, to Julies’ delight. Played a ton of golf, some with you, if you recall. Drank some beer, also with you. All in all, successful,” I said, as row upon row of long yellow vehicles fouled the curbside with their diesel exhaust.
“Lucky you. Three weeks ago, I had to go down to Texas , to help my mom and dad move into an assisted living place. Pretty nice place, but they hated to leave their house. Then I get home for a week, and get a call in the middle of the night that dad died. Just sitting in his recliner one afternoon, watching “The Price is Right.” Mom thought he was nodding off, like he did all the time. An hour later, she goes to wake him to see what he wants for dinner. And that was that.” Railey choked up a bit, turned his head. “A peaceful way to go, I guess.”
“Oh man, why didn’t you call me? I had no idea.”
“Nobody did. That’s okay. Besides, it was in Texas, and they wanted to be buried there.
Been there almost 20 years. The funeral was small, since most of their friends were dead anyway. Dad had one brother, but he passed away a couple of years ago.”
Eddie Railey shrugged.
“Mom is here with us, till we can get things squared away.”
Over by the door, Miss Pink Fingernails was howling.
“Go ahead and bring it then. Bring it on.”
Railey saluted me, and strode slowly over to the scene.
“Now, children. First day jitters? Let’s see if we can at least get into the building before we get suspended, what d’ya say, huh?’
“Mr. Railey, we just playin, man,” said a smallish boy with a budding Afro.
“Yeah, just playin’, is all, Mr. Railey,” says the girl, now smiling at the big teacher.
I look over at Railey. He seems to have the situation well in hand. Literally. He leads the two off to see our beloved administrator in charge of discipline, Mr. Wilton X. Davis, III, in spite of the kids claims of a truce.
“Have a great year, Joey. Catch you at lunch,” Eddie yells back at me. He has a firm but benevolent grip on each kid’s arm.
I turn my attention to the scene before me.
The sidewalks were filled up by now, buses having disgorged their contents like big yellow hoses. It is a diverse gathering.
Black kids, white kids, mixed and Asian, a few girls with heads covered with white scarves going long down their backs, wearing designer jeans. Here is a boy who looks like he’s about 10 years old, there another who might have driven to school.
Young women wearing long jean skirts, their hair past their back pockets. A girl, I think, with black eye shadow, black jeans that could fit two people, and a spiked dog collar. A dog collar! Oh, Mr. Principal?
I say a short prayer for them all.
“Mr Akers. May I see you for a moment?”
My prayer is broken into by the venerable Joanna C. Sloan, Ph. D., assistant principal. We dropped the “vice-principal” moniker a few years ago. “Too negative”, said the School Board. Dr. Sloan, as she prefers, no, demands to be addressed, even by those who have known her for years, is already in a lather about something or other.
“Mr. Akers, I…..”
“Call me ‘Joe’.”
“What? Oh. Fine. …… Mr. Akers, you are supposed to be at Door 15. This is Door 17.”
She waits for my response, hands on hips.
I look at her, and flash my best fake smile.
“Oopsies,…. my bad, as the kids say. I guess I should have read the memo, huh?”
She fails to see the sarcasm, mild as it is. As I move dutifully to my correct post, Dr. Sloan is already off to make the sidewalks safe for democracy, barking orders into her walkie-talkie. She manages an exasperated glance my way, just to make sure, I am heading in the right direction.
“How long till the bell? You a teacher here?’
I turn to see a man-child blocking the sun, about 6’2”, 220 if he’s a pound. I instinctively feel the need to make a good impression on this creature.
“Well, good morning to you, too,” I smile.
He pauses, then grins widely. Thank God. I continue.
“First, I’m afraid I have no idea what time it is. Are you really in that big a hurry to get inside? And second, yes, I am a teacher here. Name is Mr. Joe Akers,” I say, extending my hand. This future All-State offensive lineman looks at my hand. He engulfs my fingers in a mitt the size of a baseball glove. But he doesn’t know how to properly shake hands, something I find more and more of in kids these days. All soft and awkward. A social ineptitude that needs correcting. But not right now.
“Davon Arnold,” he offers, in a deep husky voice. “And yeah, I gotta get my schedule for my classes. We just moved her and my momma registered me, but I got no schedule.”
“Nice to meet you, Davon. Here’s what you do. You’re at the wrong door” (we have something in common) “so go around to those front double doors, the blue ones, and when the bell rings, go to the guidance office. Can’t miss it, first door on the right. They have schedules for all new students.”
Davon gives me a look that I can’t quite figure out. Does he think I’m just another white guy teacher who is messing with him? Or is he unsure of what to do, new kid, no lay of the land yet? He continues to look at me. I begin to get uncomfortable. Then, he grins, gold tooth prominent in the front.
“Yeah. Thanks….guidance, right?”
“Sounds like a winner,” I say, breathing easily again. “Good luck, pal,” I offer, as he works his way through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea .
I hope he remembers me with kind thoughts.

The last busses trail each other off the lot, and the air quality improves measurably.
The morning sky is achingly blue, nearly cloudless. Light breeze, about 70 degrees. Last Monday about this time I was driving my Maxfli Noodle into the woods off the third tee at Eagle Cove. Ah, well. As the Beatles said decades ago (was it really that long?)…
“Oobla dee, oobla dah, life goes on…..”
Yeah.
I have made the mistake once again of standing directly under the outside loudspeaker.
As the bell (which is really not a bell, but a mechanical tone, except we still call it “The Bell”) rattles my teeth, I pull open the freshly-painted blue double doors and marvel at the kid’s Pavlovian response. Short of salivating, our little puppies herd themselves nicely, funneling through the doorway, then split into different directions in search of …..
What?
“Let us discover the answer to this together,” I say out loud as Miss Pink Fingernails slides by, jamming that cell phone into her size XXL purse. She looks at me like I am goofy. And you know what?
She might just be right.

ADIOS 2008, HOLA 2009

2008-12-31T10:49:00.000-08:00

I am ending the year by sending off a submission to a publisher. The long-awaited Great American Novel, (right!) "You're Never Too Old For Space Camp", has been sent for consideration to BookLocker.com. This is a ebook and Print On Demand company. They charge a fee to get your book out, for e-purchasing and print. I have evaluated other such companies, and gone on the recommendation of the guy who edited Space Camp. Seems like the Catch 22 of publishing that, unless you can write about vampire love, you gotta be published before you can be published. (Hmm. There's an idea.... vampire teacher falls in love with a zombie.)
We shall see what the next week brings, as they say they will evaluate the merits of the work by then.
So 2009 could see the publishing of my first book!
Or not.
But it is a goal I have for the New Year (along with using my Iron Gym regularly and breaking 90 at Cloverleaf), whether it be Space Camp, or a young-adult chap book, or a compilation/collection of my columns from the Journal.
Sumpin' gonna be out dere soon.

Two Thousand Niner

2008-12-27T09:36:00.000-08:00

Feliz Blobby Blob and a Prospero Anno de Nuwavey to y'all. Look for this site to be up and running full speed ahead since I am going to get at least one book published in the '09 segment of my term here on this big blue marble.

THE TRUE NEVER BEFORE TOLD STORY OF THE FIRST THANKSGIVING

2008-11-18T15:00:00.000-08:00

The two native inhabitants of the land looked furtively through the mulberry bushes at the edge of the sand at the strangely clad people who stood before them.
They had no idea that what they were viewing would signal changes for them and their race. They knew not what would happen to their people in the next 250 years. Had they known, they might not have been so magnanimous to the newcomers who were so busily unloading their goods from boats landed on the beach.

This is the story of some of that kindness. This is the story of accidental cooperation.
This is the true, untold story of that first Thanksgiving.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas….” sang Constable Miles Wilbish. He was the leader of a group of people who had fled the oppressive climate of religious persecution in England to settle in what was being billed everywhere as “The New World”.

Wilbish was braced by the hint of winter in the clear air, but he was also becoming increasingly worried as he walked the trails near their settlement with his right-hand man Will Means.

“I am gravely concerned, Will. We are running out of stores. Our crops are not coming in as they should. Our hunters too often return empty-handed, or with only a few rabbits to show for their efforts. Things are not good, no, not good at all.”

“Dang, boss, you ain’t kiddin’. Our babies are starving, and the old folks are dying,” said Means. He dropped his head. “Maybe this trip wasn’t such a great idea after all.

Wilbish had been thinking the same thing lately, but he was reluctant to voice his concerns. As not only the legal but also spiritual leader of the new community, he needed to keep up appearances. If he indicated in any way that he’d despaired, then their cause truly was lost.

“Will, I have been thinking. An idea has been forming in my mind. We must have help. The redmen have been watching us very carefully. I am uneasy with that. But have you noticed how healthy and strong they always seem? They must know how to handle this land, this climate. We are going to need them to survive.”

Means lifted his head. “So you’re on to something, boss. Sign me up. I’ll volunteer to go to them. I have nothing to lose, not being married and all. If they kill and eat me, well, no great loss, ya know?”

The constable smiled. He loved his assistant’s fervor and sense of duty. Even if it sometimes was over the top.

“I do not think they’ll eat you, my friend. But I accept your offer. I will need your enthusiasm if this plan is to work. Now, come closer and listen to how we must proceed.”
As they continued through the woods, always under the watchful gaze of men in bushes, Miles Wilbish outlined the plan to save his community. “First, we shall arrange a big dinner. Then…..”

Behind the trees, over the hill and down into the valley, the smoke from many cooking fires wafted gently into the steel blue sky. Wippomuk, chief of the Wampannoag, was sitting in council with his tribal leaders. He was listening to one of the younger braves, Walks On Fire.

“My friends, these folks are going to just die if they keep up the way they do. They don’t have any about what it takes to make it here. But by accident, they might just make it. And if they can make it here, they can make it anywhere. So we have some deciding to do.”

The gathering met that pronouncement with words of agreement. Then, Chief Wippomuk held up his right hand.

“I must tell you, Walks is right on the money. The pale faced people are hurting. But we are a decent sort of people. Maybe we should help them now, but make it clear to them that we want them to go somewhere else. I have a bad feeling that if they get desperate enough, they will come after our stores, and stop at nothing to get them. So I propose a festival, a big dinner.”

The gathered leaders were stunned. A dinner? For those who were trying to take their land? What did the chief have up his fringed sleeve? They were soon to find out.
Walks On Fire spoke for the Chief.

“I get it. We have this big party and make the newcomers think we love them ,even as they are tearing down our trees and scaring away the deer. They become happy and we get them to let their guard down.”

Chief Wippomuk smiled. “I’ll take it from here. Walks is correct. While we are having a good time, he and his braves will sneak off and put the torch to their dwellings. By the time they get home to nothing but smoldering cinders, they’ll be so discouraged they will load up their big canoes and head back across the sea where they came from. Nobody dies, especially our people. And our problems are solved.”

With a flourish of feathers and a loud harrumph, the chief sat down. “What say you, council?”

Nobody wanted to speak up first. This was the chief’s idea, and they usually did what he said. Like that time the Iroquois were stealing their chickens, and the chief decided to raise ducks instead. An unusual solution, but it worked. Who but the chief would have known that the Iroquois were allergic to duck?
After a long and uncomfortable silence, Walks On Fire, who was to lead the assault on the settlement, cleared his throat. “Uh, Chief… well… what if ….what if they all don’t want to come to the dinner. Or, what if somebody’s sick or they post a guard or they shoot us with those giant thunder sticks they carry around? I’m not a big fan of blood, especially if it’s mine?

The chief sighed. How did we come so far as a people? he thought. “Anybody else?” he said. “Listen to this closely. We’ll make them an offer they cannot refuse.” Chief Wippomuk gathered his council closely and outlined the plan he had to save his
community.

“An offer they can’t refuse? That sounds a lot like violence to me. Like I said, I’m no fan of bleeding.”
Walks On Fire was walking back to his hut with Swift As Deer, his good friend, after the council meeting.

“Don’t worry. The chief’s got a trick or three up his tunic,” said Swift As Deer.
“My guess is that the pale ones are going to be so discouraged after we smoke ‘em out, they’ll beat feet the next day. It’s the party I’m worried about. I mean, what will we be able to serve them? I know from watching the settlers that they’re not too hot on berries and veggies. They gotta have meat, and plenty of it.”

Just then, two squawking birds came scurrying across their path. They stood about three feet tall, with thick upper bodies and full feathers. The two companions jumped back in alarm. Then, as if their brains were connected, they turned triumphantly to face each other, eyes wide open.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Brother Brave?” shouted Walter.
“Well, Brother Brave,” yelled Swift As Deer. “If you’re thinking Turkey Dinner with all the trimmings, then the answer is ABSOLUTELY!”

The two native inhabitants whooped and sprinted back to the lodge to share their idea with the chief.

“I get a leg!” screamed Walter, laughing as he struggled to keep up with his younger companion.

Miles Wilbish took a deep breath, and sat down on a nearby stump. Will Means made himself comfortable in the soft grasses nearby.

“I think it will work, Will. It’s a well-known fact that the redmen cannot handle spirits. As soon as they pass out, it will be verily simple to load up on their foods and stores.”

Means was a bit uneasy. “Just one thing, sir, if you don’t mind.”
“No, no,Will. By all means. Feel free to speak.”

“Well, Constable, here’s the thing. Let’s say we can pull this off. When they wake up, they’ll not only have some real headaches, but they’ll be hopping mad and bent on revenge. What’s to keep this from becoming a really bad idea?’

Wilbish stroked his graying beard.

“I have given that some thought. And sadly, the answer is one which is as distasteful as it is necessary.”

“You mean, we…. ” said Means, quietly, as he pointed an imaginary gun.

Wilbish sighed deeply.

“Yes, Will. I see no alternative. It is that, or our mission is ended.”

Chief Wippomuk loved his brave’s idea for the main course.

“It’s perfect, boys. Our squaws know how to roast those birds, and with the sweet potatoes and squash, and corn….. well, the settlers will be so stuffed they won’t know how to act.”

“And don’t forget the pumpkin pie, Chief,” said Walter.

“Yes, pie. Ahhhh. It’s a shame that the party cannot end on better terms. But oh, well—what’s a chief to do?”

And with that, the original inhabitants of the land went out to make plans for the big day.

Both sides were surprised when they met that the other had exactly the same ideas for the gathering. The settlers agreed to bring what they could spare from their dwindling stores.
The native inhabitants made assurances that they would not only treat the settlers to a great feast, but would also help them with ways to become more self- reliant.
Each side left the meeting with the feeling that they had succeeded in tricking the other.

“Chief, this might just be easier than I thought,” whispered Walks On Fire, as he watched the settlers cross the river to their cabins.

Miles Wilbish expressed similar sentiments to his assistant.

“Will, I think our native neighbors are in for a great surprise.

When they heard of the plans, the women of both sides were excited to be taking part in the gathering. They of course knew nothing of the nefarious plans of their men.

And so the stage was set.

The day came for the great feast. The native inhabitants had spent the last few days hunting and cooking. The aroma of large quantities of meats and fowl and vegetables and pies filled the crystal fall sky. Several plank tables were set up by the settlers along the banks of the river. The trees were burning with russet and gold, their leaves fluttering peacefully into the water. On both sides of that river, children were being dressed in their finest garb of smooth fringed leathers and starched white collars.

Miles Wilbish sat alone on a fence near one of his community’s failing fields. One look into the poorly yielding ground firmed his resolve.

We must do this. We must be successful. Our future depends upon the outcome of this day,” he thought.

Wilbish stood up erectly, smoothed his dark frock coat, and strode off to join his people as they made their way to the feast.

Chief Wippomuk also was spending a few moments by himself. As was his custom in the early mornings, he had climbed the hills rising slowly from the banks of the river to the highest point. From here, overlooking the settlement in one direction and his own village in the other, he realized that, as distasteful as today’s ruse was to his sense of honor, the deed must be carried out.

We must do this. We must be successful. Our future depends upon the outcome of this day, he thought.

With chin thrust forward and fists doubled, he descended to the river banks.

The sun rising over the tips of treetops had cut the chill of the morning to a pleasant temperature. The leaders of their respective communities were seated together at the longest table. They exchanged greetings upon arrival, Chief Wippomuk placing his right forearm across his chest, Miles Wilbish sweeping his wide-brimmed felt hat low into a courtly bow.
They sat ceremoniously and looked out upon the gathering.

Women from both groups were busily arranging the enormous mounds of food that had been prepared. The native inhabitants chatted cheerfully amongst themselves, and communicated with the settlers with signs and touches on the arm. There was much smiling and nodding of heads. The men from the tribe hauled in great slabs of roasted deer meat, piles of corn, and vegetables steaming from the pits. Settler men carried in the dozens of lightly bronzed and crackling turkeys. Games and contests were taking place in the fields.

Miles Wilbish was amazed at what was before his eyes. How did they do this? he wondered. His mouth watered at the aroma that overwhelmed the clearing. But his stomach began to tighten as children scampered and chased each other in the long grasses nearby.

Chief Wippomuk knew this needed to be a victorious day for his people. But the events he was witnessing were beginning to test his resolve. He glanced at his guest to the right. Constable Wilbish seemed to be shaking slightly. Was he ill? Or just hungry? What could be the matter? the chief mused. Were these strange people not the evil ones he’d imagined them to be?

As if hit by a lightning bolt, the chief realized that the plans he had made for later in the day must be altered. He called to his best brave.

“Walks On Fire. My good friend,” he whispered. “We must call off the raid. We will not be the ones who start the bad things. But double the guard on our stores in the village.” He paused. “If one of us can seek trouble, no doubt the other can as well.”
The brave was shocked at the chief’s words. “What’s that you say?” he murmured to the chief. Then he composed himself. This was the chief he was talking to.
“Okay, Chief. You got it.” He had to admit he wasn’t all that unhappy to hear of the change in plans. “I can’t say as that I wasn’t beginning to get cold feet myself.” He paused, and leaned over to speak into the chief’s ear. “And might I add, there are sure some fine looking settler gals over there.”

“Yes, Walks. Just do what I tell you. Now go.”
The chief shook his head slowly and smiled. “And so it begins,” he said softly, to no one in particular.

Miles Wilbish was indeed shaking. And not from hunger, or illness. Tears began to well up in his eyes, and roll uncontrollably down his cheeks into his beard.

What a display of generosity and goodwill. What have we done to deserve this from these people, except take their land, cut their trees down and encroach on their hunting grounds? And today they treat us as honored guests! How dare I order their deaths!

Wilbish summoned his lieutenant.

"Will. We must call off our plans. We are not a violent people. See how wonderful, how…. “ . His voice caught. He gathered himself, and said, “We must call off the raid.”

Will Means breathed a long sigh of relief. “Yes, sir, Sir. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t all that excited about the idea in the first place. You know, these folks really are friendly.” He looked around at the festivities before them. People sharing at the tables, passing sweet potatoes and meats. Children in song by the stand of giant oaks. Women hugging and men sharing a smoke by the rock bank.
Maybe we all can just get along, he thought.
“Uh, Boss. Do you mind if I, you know, if I say hello to that young lady over there, the one with the cluster of yellow feathers in her hair?”
Wilbish shook his head slowly, and smiled.

“Not at all, my good man. Not at all.” He shook his head slowly, and smiled.
“And so it begins,” he said, to no one in particular.

One of the settler women placed a great platter of meat between the leaders, and as they reached for a portion, their eyes met. Each had a sudden enlightenment as to what had just transpired in the others mind. Each seemed to sense that the direction of the day had just changed dramatically.
Chief Wippomuk grasped Wilbish’s right forearm with a powerful grip. He nodded to the settler, a small smile growing on his dusky face. Wilbish reached across and placed his left hand on that of the chief, and returned the smile.

The contact lasted only a few moments, but the gesture spoke volumes to the men’s hearts.

As day turned to evening, and both peoples moved quietly toward their respective homes, the sun gave up it’s last glorious rays into a spectacular red-orange sunset.

And so we have the true story of the first Thanksgiving. Much would transpire between the people who came from across the seas and those who were already in the land. Much sadness and destruction would come from the conflicts of the future.
But for this day, this moment, two very different people found common ground, a way to give thanks in spite of all the differences and challenges that faced them.

May we all take a lesson from the likes of Chief Wippomuk and Constable Miles Wilbish, and may your Thanksgiving be one of peace, good will and great turkey.

ONE WEEK LEFT

2008-10-28T17:58:00.000-07:00

So here we finally have it... one week until the election. One week until we see where our country is headed... either down the crapper or into slow steady recovery.
The former will happen if Obama gets in, the latter is McCains situation.
I'm hoping for McCain, even though he is not my favorite; he certainly beats the guy who will take the abortion limitations of the states back to zero within the first days of his administration. I am certain he is bad for the USA.
If Obama wins or loses, we will have riots in the streets; to celebrate a win or to protest a loss.
I don't think we will know until a few days past the election, or even longer. There will be many voter fraud claims, and some states will have awful problems with their counting procedures. I doubt it will go to the Supreme Court as it did in 2000, but is won't be pretty.
I will be surprised if I am wrong...hope I am wrong, but surprised if I am.
God Bless the USA and God help us if Barry gets in.

GREAT Day in St. Louis

2008-10-05T13:03:00.000-07:00

Cubs lose (again)......... Tigers Win!!!
I thank God every day that I wasn't born in Chicago.
Life is Sweet.

Them Crazy Cubbies

2008-10-04T17:47:00.000-07:00

So bad, so sad. The poor Chicago fans are about to have another nail put deep into their hearts and psyches by their beloved Cubbies.
But then, what if? Is it possible to have them do what the Dodgers did to them on their home turf? Only time will tell, and a few mysterious shakes of a voodoo rattle to remove the curse.
As for me, I hope they can pull it off. The Cardinals had no real chance this year, in spite of a better than expected season. So yeah, go ahead, Cubbies...win a few.
At least win one.
Geez.

SUPER HIL TO THE RESCUE

2008-07-23T18:51:00.000-07:00

I wrote this a while back, when she was still very much in it. But don't count her out. She did only suspend her campaign, not close it, remember?
When it comes to the Clinton's, I don't think anything can be ruled out. Can you say "Vince Foster?"
________________________________________-
I wonder what’s been going through the mind of Senator Hilary Clinton these past few weeks. Maybe something like this:
My eyes open to the promise of the new day.
My gaze takes me around the room. Magically hovering in the corner is my luminescent lime-green pants suit.
I spring from my bed, don the outfit, and slick back my hair.
I am ready for action.
For I am SuperHil.
Today is the day. Another battle against the forces of the Evil ObamaNation looms beyond the dawn. Will I be able to summon the strength for yet another confrontation? Will my powers allow me to find the words to counter the constant challenge of a foe that steals from my own arsenal of weapons named "Change" and "Hope"? And, more importantly, will my stomach ever stop churning from the assault of whiskey shots, draft beer and yet another chicken dinner?
At the end of the day, will I be the one still left standing?
Of course, I will. I have faced far greater than this. Why, I have been betrayed by one whom I deeply trusted those several years back, and raised myself up from the depths of that debacle to become the first of my kind to have come so far in this quest for the House of White.
For, after all, I AM SuperHil.
But lately, it seems to be all coming apart. Bitter? Me? You bet I’m bitter. This was to have been my moment, my time to shine in the spotlight, my "coronation", to become the Head of the Realm. My cunning opponent has countered my powers, one by one. My legions of generals have abandoned me, also one by one, to cross over to "The Other Side".
But even as I fear the end is near, I persevere.
I feel stronger now, dressed in my shimmering outfit.
Let them sling their arrows. Let them launch their verbal assaults. Let them leave me, one by one. I can handle the fire. Why, I trounced "The Intern". I conquered the rushing surges of Whitewater. I dodged bullets in a foreign land.
Why, I have even shot at a duck.
Nothing can stop me.
For I am SuperHil.
But, alas, despite my continued victories on key fronts, the battle has finally ended. My followers were dwindling even as the numbers turned against me. My most trusted warriors were calling for me to end the struggle. The ObamaNation has claimed its victory. Don’t you think I can see that? But still I fight on, with my pure white pearl necklace shining against the fury of the fight.
Still, it is over.
But, is it, really?
As I retreat in solitude to my quarters, I shed the pants-suit, and pull the coverlet to my chin. I close my eyes, and dream. This quest that had began over a decade ago has ended, and badly. It is time to rest. Time to regroup. To reevaluate. But in my mind, it is not time for surrender.
In my mind, I see a chance for renewal.
This current foe may falter and fail. He is new to this game. Not like me, a seasoned warrior. And when he does, I will be there. They will seek me out to carry the banner, to save them from ruin. Yes, to save them. As it was supposed to be all along.
And I will graciously forgive them all as I pick up the shield and lead them to the triumph we deserve.
I deserve.
For I am SuperHil.

LAZY DAYS OF SUMMER..NOT!

2008-07-21T07:13:00.000-07:00

We just hosted the Goonies, two of the eight grandkids who reside in the good old Lou. They are a great pair, full of vim and vinegar. So the summer has not been lazy, at least the last few days.
The week is starting out slow, however, soon to rise to a crescendo, as we go to Cali to help three of the others move back home...finally. Mom and Dad are driving back, and we are braving the friendly skys with three kids under 6 years old. Guardian Angels, it's hammer-time!
Me, Jill and Joanie, and the three beautiful girlies.
Should be interesting.
TTFN.

New to EzineArticles.com

2008-07-15T09:11:00.000-07:00

I have had an article about golf picked up by EzineArticles.com. Go to that web site and click on Recreation and Sports, then click on Golf, scroll down a few and there you have it.
Now, if you will excuse me, I must head to the driving range to work on my slice.
See Ya.. T.

THE FOURTH

2008-07-09T09:02:00.000-07:00

Have to start out with a lame joke here.
I seems that as Jesus was outside the tomb of his good friend, He uttered in loud voice...
LAZARUS....COME FORTH..... and three guys came out before he did.
Duh. TOLD you it was lame.
Anyway.... our FOURTH of July was a great one. Little Joey's birthday (he's 28 now...my how time flies) was celebrated in grand fashion by swimming in the blow-up-pool, fireworks on the driveway, very unhealthy but lip-smackin' pork products indigenous to St. Louis, crazed grandkids laughing and pushing and shoving and eating red-white-and-blue popsicles and hugging and causing beautiful mayhem, a sweet local community parade and our very own 40 foot parade in front of our house with decorated bikes and strollers, some adult beverages (Okay, a lot of adult beverages: see "crazed grandkids", above), and unseasonably awesome weather for a river valley community just out of the throes of a nasty flood season.
See the pic of 5 out of 8 of the aforementioned grands.... three are in a holding pattern on the Left Coast, with an anticipated arrival of late summer.
So we cross over into the downslide of my Summer of Great Content, as there is less than a month before I head again into the Sweatshoppes at Cross Keys (this is only remotely funny if you know that there is a shopping center called the Shoppes at Cross Keys and my middle school of employ is called Cross Keys.... hmmm).
Still, who am I to complain about having a job that lets out at 3:15 and allows for 14 weeks paid vacation.....
Gotta go... it's nappy time soon, and I'm playing golf this afternoon.....
Oh well, someone has to do it.

The Colors

2008-06-28T10:04:00.000-07:00

How do you like the new colors? They are in honor of the Aston Villa Football Club of England Premier League. When I was a young man able to run, I played soccer for an amatuer team sponsored by Town and Country Ford in Clayton. We replicated the maroon and light blue colors of AVFC for our uniforms, down to the striped socks.
We weren't a great team, but we looked awesome. Probably the coolest uniforms ever made in the history of the game.

New and Improved for 2008

2008-06-27T19:56:00.000-07:00

Hey, it looks like Blogger has done some cool changes to enable techno-impaired guys like me to soup up their sites, so I am hard at it. I will be adding pictures and ads and links as the days go on.
One of the reasons for getting back to this is that I have finished a novel (see Preview of Coming Attractions), and am getting it edited. I have been shopping it around to about 5o agents and publishers to no avail. So a company that does Print on Demand is next on the block. All the conventional wisdom says it is important to get the book out there, and this is one way to do it in a non-traditional manner.
As soon as I do the changes from the edit, I am submitting to the POD.
Should be interesting.
The book is called "You're Never Too Old For Space Camp".
Here is a sample from the first chapter.
_____________
ONE

“Why’d they have to pick yellow?”
I wondered this to myself as the school buses rolled into the lot. A black girl with blue eye shadow and pink fingernails over by the door glanced at me with an absent look, and then went back to checking her cell phone. Over by the benches, three would-be studs were crowding around a lass who was obviously what one could call an early-bloomer. She was drinking up the attention, until one of the guys accidentally broke wind---and loudly, at that. With a roll of her eyes, and an “Oh…My….Gawd”, she spun off, in search of girlfriends to hug and squeal with. As for the three young men, they collapsed into puddles of laughter, beating each other on the back with calls of “What a dork!” and “You loser!” and other less printable epithets.
Ah, yes, it was that time-honored moment, the exact end of summer, the beginning of who knows what will happen. It was the first day of school at Cedar Grove Middle School.

“So, Joe. I can see that you haven’t gotten any brains over the summer,” said a voice to my right.
It was Eddie Railey.
Eddie and I had gotten to Cedar Grove within a few years of each other. We had played in a softball league together before that, and I told him about the job opening up in Social Studies. It was hard to believe that was over 15 years ago.
We no longer play softball, by the way.
“Mr. Railey, Sir….Hey, I guess we both are dummies, since you’re standing here, too.”
It was standard practice for teachers to complain about how fast the first day of school comes, even though most of us still felt that tingle of coming attractions that we felt as kids. But whereas it used to be, ”Who will be in my class? or “Will that pretty red-haired girl sit next to me?” now it’s “Will I be able to do this for yet another year?”
Eddie smiled. “How was your summer? Overall, I mean.”
“Good enough. Got a lot done around the house, to Julies’ delight. Played a ton of golf, some with you, if you recall. Drank some beer, also with you. All in all, successful,” I said, as row upon row of long yellow vehicles fouled the curbside with their diesel exhaust.
“Lucky you. Three weeks ago, I had to go down to Texas to help my mom and dad move into an assisted living place. Pretty nice place, but they hated to leave their house. Then when I’d been home for a week I got a call in the middle of the night that dad died. Just sitting in his recliner one afternoon, watching The Price is Right. Mom thought he was nodding off like he did all the time. An hour later, she went to wake him to see what he wants for dinner, and that was that.” Railey choked up a bit, turned his head. “A peaceful way to go, I guess.”
“Oh man, why didn’t you call me? I had no idea.”
“Nobody did.” Eddie shrugged. “That’s okay. Besides, it was in Texas, and they wanted to be buried there. They’d been there almost 20 years. The funeral was small, since most of their friends were dead anyway. Dad had one brother, but he passed away a couple of years ago.”
“Mom is here with us, till we can get things squared away.”Over by the door, Miss Pink Fingernails was howling. “Go ahead and bring it then.

O DAT DANG POLITICS

2008-03-19T08:54:00.000-07:00

In the words of the renowned broadcaster of Cardinal, White Sox and Cubs baseball,
Hello again, everybody.
Can't help but feel sad for Barack Obama's mom and grandma. He threw them under the bus, off the train, voted them off the island yesterday, when in his speech that was supposed to cement his position as the candidate with Character, he denigrated his white side of the family to gain favor with "all Americans who want change in this nation", the same nation his lovely wifey Michelle said she hasn't had any pride for in her adult life, the same nation who pretty much made it possible for her to go to PRINCETON AND HARVARD, MADE IT POSSIBLE FOR HER HUSBAND TO SELL MILLIONS OF BUCKS WORTH OF BOOKS, MADE IT POSSIBLE FOR HER DAUGHTERS TO GO TO GOOD SCHOOLS...... all right. I will quit yelling.
Chris Matthews of MSNBC said that yesterdays speech was worthy of Lincoln...well, yeah maybe the Lincoln who was chronically depressed most of his life...and Matthews also said that the speech was "A gift to the country". Well, I agree with him here.
The gift is that Baramo made it easier for Hil and Bil to get their fingers into the pie again, to win the nomination, and that if this happens, then Johnny Mac will wipe her off the face of the map.
Now, good friends....that IS a gift to the country.

see ya.

CRY, CRY BABY

2008-01-10T13:50:00.000-08:00

Janis Joplin sang it, and Hilary done it. Her show of "emotion" is being called "the tears that melted New Hampshire" by the BarackO crowd. They got blindsided by the clever, manipulating, conniving former First "Lady" (using that term loosely). I have no doubt she was overcome with emotion. But the emotion she was feeling was fear, and imminent defeat....she was sad, yeah... not about how the country was going down, but that it looked like she was.
After reading about her in the book about Whitewater, and the book and movie Primary Colors, and the way she reportedly acted to people in the White House when she was Assistant President, I do not believe her "Wah Wah Wah" was anything but a chance to show her "softer side", to demonstrate just what a committed and wonderful person she could be, if you old meanies out there would only give her the chance. Oddly, where tears brought Ed Muskie down in 1972, they seem to have goosed up Hil's chances for '08.
Urp. That makes me want to hurl.
Don't let her fool you, like Obaskams people were taken in.
She one mean beeaah.

Eye oh What the heck?..

2008-01-04T20:18:00.000-08:00

Up in Iowa where the corn grows and the Field of Dreams was filmed, good old Hil took one on the chin. Not sad to see this occur. Of course, they said she was brave for going there, and that the real test will come in New Hampshire.
Yeah. Loser talk.
Looking like Oback Barameter is running the show now. Remarkable that the Chicago kid with the funny name scored so well in corn country.
Maybe he has something that doesn't meet the eye.
Then it is no surprise that Mike Huckabee would do well. I mean, come on....the name alone set him up as the lead man...."Huckabee", as in "rural". Nothing against rural folks, it just fits doesn't it?
I doubt he will be seen anymore, tho, as he heads into "Live Free or Die" New Hampshire. Romney should do well there, being from Mass., just south of NH. If he doesn't, then Mr. Perfect Hair is done like a hot dog left on the grill too long.
My man is John McCain. Any guy who can withstand POW status has got to have some set on him. And the way the world is these days, I don't think the US of A nor the world would be well served by anyone in the Top Spot having to learn the job as he goes along. (NOtice I didn't say as "she" goes along? McCain has been there for years, and knows what is up. This is one time when Washington experience should prove invaluable. Who would you rather see sitting down across the room from the nutballs in Pakistan, Mrs. Clinton or John M.?
As for Rudy G.? Not a chance in heck for a twice divorced, pro-abortion guy getting the Rep. nod. I don't know what he was thinking, really.
Hubris shows in strange ways, I guess.
Prediction:
Dem nominee......John Edwards Rep top guy......Johnny Mac.
Anybody want to shoot their picks...go right ahead.

BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

2008-01-03T08:40:00.000-08:00

That song comes to mind (made famous by Gene Autry and Aerosmith, with different lyrics but the same title...hmmm) as I get back to the blogging phenomenon.
After not doing this for some months, it seems appropriate somehow to run this out again.
That's the move......as my hip co-workers say.
I plan to just have fun with it, not take it too seriously, and maybe even givc it an new edge, especially since my kids are now grown or growing, and therefore more able to handle good old dad's warped view of life a little more easilly.

So here it goes....tommy's boomer times coming atcha, still again.

A ROSE IS STILL A ROSE...AND ALWAYS WILL BE

2007-03-14T18:13:00.000-07:00

So today Pete Rose said that not only did he bet on baseball, he bet on every game his team played when he was manager of the Reds....
Hall of Fame for ole Pete????

Don't bet on it.

JUST WONDERIN'....

2007-03-07T17:24:00.000-08:00

Former Missouri Senator Tom Eagleton just died this week. He had been in failing health for some time now. He is nationally known for being the former running mate of George Mc Govern, who had to step down because he had suffered from depression and had ECT therapy earlier in his career. Too bad. He was a very caring and effective politician.
However, I feel uneasy with the lionizing of this man. Everyone who has a loved one of course wishes them the gifts of heavenly rest. I am sure that this mans family wishes the same for him. My wifes dad just died and we all feel that way.
But Mr. Eagleton, for all the good he did, carried the torch for abortion on demand, partial-birth abortion and embryonic stem cell research all during his public career.
Heaven?....who am I to say.
Not judging.
Just wonderin'................

DUMB AND DUMBER

2007-03-04T18:00:00.000-08:00

Hillary and Barack....nuff said.
Fighting it out for the lead among southern people of color....if it wasn't so sad it would be funny...do they have any clue how ridiculous they are to the rest of the world? Surely not, otherwise they wouldn't possibly act this way.
Of course, Hil is the best at looking ridiculous...look at all the "stand by your man" schtick she went through for so long....and people really think she could be President?
Thought: if she did by some reverse miracle get the job, would Billy move back into the Big House on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue? Where would he sleep? Would he have to give tours, and fix up the Lincoln bedroom for his friends, again?

THE CIRCLE OF LIFE...

2007-02-22T09:01:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday about 4 am we got a call that my mom was having trouble breathing. Long story short, she was admitted for pulmonary edema, caused by a long standing problem with congestive heart failure. She is since doing fine and is ready to return to rehab for a broken hip she suffered on Christmas Day....Not a fun New Year for old mommy.
Then we have what is probably the worst experience one can have, on Friday morning. The Phone Call. My wife's father died at home, sometime in the middle of the night. Mark Twain said, when he heard of the death of his daughter back in America as he was traveling in Europe on a speaking tour, that it is a wonder that the human heart does not just stop when confronted with such things. I know now what he meant.
So the last week has been shock, sadness, wake, funeral.....many hugs and tears and the start of recovery from the loss of a fine man, gone too soon at 76.

Now for the rest of the story.

Yesterday, the day after we laid Jack to his eternal rest, son Tim and wife Allison blessed us with our 7th grandchild......Ella Grace.

As the Beatles said....Oobla dee, oobla da, life goes on, Yeah.....la, la, la, la, life goes on.

JOHN 3:16

2007-02-14T07:02:00.000-08:00

We here on earth got the best deal when The Big Guy decided to send his Son to save our sorry butts. It's all a mystery to me why He had to send His son, and just couldn't do it Himself, being all-powerful and stuff. But who am I to question.
I guess that is where faith comes in.
So check out the scripture reference above, and hug a loved one on St. Val's Day. If in the event no one is there for you to hug, draw comfort that He Who Is sure does love you.

I am posting my latest column from the Suburban Journals......
*************************************************
MOVIN' ON UP (HOPEFULLY!)

If you are like a lot of us, you may have had a thought or two on what happens to you when you die. Not in the physical sense, of course, which is pretty much covered by my father-in-law Jack’s favorite poem:
“The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
In your ear and out your mouth.
So never laugh when a hearse goes by,
For you may be the next to die.”
Cute, huh?
What I’m talking about is crossing over the River Jordan, passing on to the other side.
The after-life.
From a purely pragmatic view, believing in the hereafter is a little like believing in the existence of God. If you don’t, and there is one…big problems, bunky. If you do and there isn’t one, then it just didn’t matter, did it? But if you do believe and there is a heaven and a God, at least you’ve got a fighting chance
So a faith in God and in an after-life is the best career decision, eternally speaking, that is.
Frankly, without something beyond this, the day-to-day rollout makes little sense, even in the best of times. I mean, without the possibility of meeting the Big Guy, then what’s the point?
Let’s talk a little bit about final destinations. If you’re a believer, you aspire to take that last walk up to the Pearly Gates. The romanticized version is one of clouds and angels and harp music, with St. Pete guarding the door. Over there is Jesus and the saints, smiling, blessing, shaking hands. Everyone is peaceful and happy. You are bathed in a glow from the Lord on High. It’s, well, heavenly.
Or is it more metaphysical, more a “being” than a feeling. A time without time, that has nothing to do with corporeal pleasures, like having all the potato chips you can eat with no worries about transfats.
Some say we may meet our ancestors, those who have “moved on up” before us. They have been waiting for us, even watching over our lives from above. Now that hits me as more than just a little bit creepy, considering some of the stupid stuff I have done in my day. And think how uncomfortable would it be to have to say “Hey, Aunt Mary…uh, where’s Uncle Larry?” So I just don’t know about that view. I’d hate to think that after a lifetime of worrying about your kids, that you get to heaven only to be still wondering why the heck they made this or that dumb move. My idea of eternal peace is not looking through the heavenly blinds at 1 A.M, hoping that next set of headlights is your daughter’s car rolling in.
No one knows for sure, since we only have the ballplayers from “Field of Dreams” to give us their version of what it is really like. (What’s that you say….that wasn’t a true story?)
Maybe the after-life is none of this. Our small human mind is limited by experience and imagination. I find it hard to imagine never-ending joy. But I believe it is possible.
All of this is assuming a great deal, by the way, as far as my own personal destination goes. I believe in a gentle and forgiving God, one that knows I am weak. After all, He made me, right?
I just hope He keeps this all in mind when my number’s called.
I really don’t do well in the heat.

MORE LIKE A SUPER MESS

2007-02-06T19:56:00.000-08:00

well, the game Sunday was fairly boring.....even the ads were hardly any good...my favorite was the Bud Light one with the two hitchhikers, but that's just me. I lean toward the absurd in my humor and the ax murder getting upset with the driver because he was going to pick up the guy with the chainsaw?.............priceless.
Good to see old Peyton get a win, but he wasn't the MVP...probably there wasn't one, really, but they gotta pick somebody....Prince should have gotten it, considering he easilly bested the Geriatric Stones of last year and the Janet/Justin debacle the year before. So bye bye football.

The best thing about the month of Feb. (other than it is my first grandkids birthday and her little sister/brothers'-to-be) is that spring training is right around the corner, baby!!

As a Card's fan, this is blasphemous, but I am thinking this year may be the "next year" that Cubs fans have been talking about for the last 99 years. How cool would it be for this franchise to get to the World Series one year after their chief rivals....their last win being in 1908. No matter how much one hates the Cubbies, you gotta think this would be good for the game.
The only problem is....I can't stand Pinella.
SO..............Go Cards!!

OUCH...CH-CH-CH-CH-CH-CHANGES!

2007-02-02T19:00:00.000-08:00

Well, I changed the look of this site to clean it up...unfortunately, I lost all the ads and sitemeter at the bottom....gotta get that back.
Still, the look is cleaner and easier to read, I think.
later...............

SUPER BOWL OR SUPER BORE?

2007-01-27T09:28:00.000-08:00

So what will it be this next Sunday?
My guess is that it will be a real barnburner, a game of games, one for the ages, must-see-TV....blah, blah.
I can't imagine the Bears not being up for the action, and Peyton Manning not seeing this as his moment to put all the naysayers in their places.
All the talk of the first black coaches and the teams not having been in "the BIG GAME" before and how weak Grosssmann is will have no bearing on the match once the boys hit the turf for the first time.
I'd be surprised if we'll see a blow out....I just hope Vinatieri doesn't get to win it with a long FG. Enough already, with that stuff. Let somebody else play. How about let's decide the contest with good ole' fashioned grind-em out TD's.
My head says Colts, but the heart bleeds blue and orange....
And, as my little grandsons in Chicago will be wearing their home jerseys, I say...Da Bears by 7.
Go easy on the bean dip, sports fans.

ODDS AND ENDS....MOSTLY ODDS.

2007-01-23T14:42:00.000-08:00

The latest column in the Journal is on here....as well as a ramble from the scrambled space 'tween these ears on stuff that is oh, so Boomer-ish....
Latah!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
JUMP IN ANY TIME

A lot has been happening in the news these days, things of great world import, and some fantastic occurrences right here in our own backyard. I feel like I need to get my two pennies worth in or I might pop. So forgive me if this seems a bit jumpy. ‘Cause it will be, if all goes as planned.
* To start off with, I was not as glad as I thought I might be at the demise of the Iraqi dictator. In fact, I was almost sickened. What good did it do, to kill him in such a way that he would only become a symbol, a martyr as is happening, for the cause of crazies every where. He should have been kept in a small, sterile cell, in isolation, with no hope of release. Now, he is larger in death than he ever was in life.
* The cloning thing passed in Missouri recently. Oh, yeah, they say it isn’t cloning, that the amendment was actually anti-cloning, but I don’t believe it for a minute. It will be interesting to see how much dough the sponsor of the measure puts into labs in our fair state, now that there is already a strong movement to turn the amendment on its ear at the next election cycle. But if we are to have cloning, I say let’s clone Ameren UE workers. The folks in that company need a year off after the storms we’ve had. So how about growing some more emergency personnel. And let’s hurry, before the tornado season hits.
* Speaking of tornadoes, it looks like the Democrats have taken control of Congress. Well. The nature of politics is that it certainly is cyclical. One side has power for awhile, after promising pie in the sky, and finding out it isn’t really all that easy to bake. Then, the other guys, after bad-mouthing the “in-crowd”, finally get their turn, only to discover that they don’t have the magic ingredients either. I am already sick of seeing that 110 pound Speaker of the House flexing her right arm. As if that has anything to do with running the country.
* But speaking of women in power, the major network news has a female anchorperson for the first time in history. As a dad of 4 great females, I know what a good woman can do. So I think Katie Couric will do a fine job, as she has as good a resume as any. And, honestly, isn’t she prettier than the guy on NBC? (There, I said it. So sue me.)
Still, I do miss good old Tom Bwokaaaaw.
* Here is an entry in the “Good Idea/Bad Idea” department. Good Idea: getting your wife a gift certificate to a spa for her birthday. Bad Idea: getting your wife a gift certificate to a lipodislove clinic. Just a helpful heads-up for you guys out there.
* Any body else think that Oprah is over the hill, I mean as far as her show is concerned? Man, I have a hard time with her trying to come off as some sort of savior. Now, Ellen DeGeneres….there is a woman with some talent. I mean it. She is sincere, and funny, just downright entertaining. As for Rosie and The Donald….puuuleeese. Who cares?
* Does the screen play ever work in football? I mean, come on. The success percentage of that play must be about 2.78%. All the defensive guys are so dang big that there is no where for the poor running back to sneak into. And, he’s all the time bumping into his own 300 pound dudes. Too many giant people in too little real estate. And the way the quarterback rushes into such a backward panic, even my wife calls “Screen! Screen!”. They maybe make it back to the line of scrimmage.
* In closing, give a thought to the trials that await those boys who were recently found safe and alive. And to the family of the suspect. Their long road is just beginning.
May it be filled with healing love.
########################################

THEM BOOMER YEARS, BABY

The official period allotted to the phenomenon known as “The Baby
Boom,” from 1946 to 1964, saw some fantastic things happen. I came across a web site called “Boomer Initiative” that gave some highlights (and lowlights) of that short 18 year moment in out history. As the oldest of us are now into our 6th decade this year, I thought it might be fun to take a ride in “Mr. Peabody’s Way-Back Machine” and check it out. Here are some of the people, products, world events and just plain stuff, kind of in order, from ’46 to ’64.
Post-WW II war crime trials give 12 Nazis the death penalty. The Cardinals beat Boston in the World Series, little knowing that they won’t be back in it until the end of the Boomer era. Top songs were Zip-a-Dee-Do-Da and Riders in the Sky. Tide detergent, suntan lotion and Tupperware make their debut.
The first flying saucers are reported and, with the growing popularity of the automobile, drive-in theaters dot the landscape, the last probably contributing to the baby boom in its own small way. A million veterans go to college on the GI Bill, the Yankees beat Brooklyn in the first televised Series. Da Bums break the color barrier with a talented young man named Jackie Robinson. Velcro is invented, and Duncan Hines puts his cake mix in a box.
Ghandi gets shot, Harry Truman integrates the US Army, and the Berlin Airlift begins. Babe Ruth dies. Top TV shows are Howdy Doody, Candid Camera, and The Texaco Star Theater. Silly Putty shows up in little plastic eggs.
The turn of the decade sees bad news in a place called Korea as the North invades the South, with Red China getting into the act. Senator Joe McCarthy starts his move to national repute. People sing Good Night, Irene, watch Arthur Godfrey and Your Hit Parade on the tube. Hopalong Cassidy is top cowboy in America. (I had the whole outfit.)
The Yankees, who back in 1947 started one of the most remarkable runs in the history of sport, will go on to appear in 14 out of the next 18 Fall Classics, winning 9 times. Of course, they had some guys named Berra, Rizzuto, Ford, McDougall, and a kid called “The Mick.”
The Korean War deepens, Bogart pulls the “African Queen” through the jungle, color television shows up, and a microwave will cost $1200, and look like your refrigerator.
Princess Elizabeth becomes England’s queen, and her country develops the A-bomb. We sing Your Cheatin’ Heart, watch Jackie Gleason, Ozzie and Harriett, and I Love Lucy. A polio vaccine is developed.
The mess in Korea ends. US dead, over 37,000. Cigarettes are linked to lung cancer. The Yankees beat Brooklyn, again, for their fifth consecutive world championship. “Little Ricky” and his mommy Lucy are on the cover of the first “TV Guide.”
Billy Graham and Davy Crockett create new waves of popularity. (I had his whole outfit….Davy’s, not Billy’s). Comic books hit 20 million in sales.
Joe McCarthy goes too far and is spanked by the Senate. Rumblings are heard in Southeast Asia. The other New York guys, the Giants, take the Series. Sports Illustrated shows up on newsstands. We whistle “Mr. Sandman” and watch Rin Tin Tin. Yo Rinny! (NO, I did not have that kids outfit.)
A black minister named King leads one of the first civil rights actions, boycotting busses in Alabama. Brooklyns Dodgers win their only World Series. The nation’s over-29 million TV’s are tuned to Lawrence Welk and The Honeymooners. Mice the world over rejoice as Disneyland opens in California. “Ike” Eisenhower initiates the intra-state highway system. The nation is changed forever.
The bad boys on the world scene get busy, with the Soviets crushing the Hungarian uprising, and Fidel Castro starting his take-over of Cuba. Egypt and Israel start fighting.
Back home, things get a little racier with the coming of Elvis, Peyton Place, and a thing called rock-and-roll. Beatniks lead us into the counterculture.
The USSR starts the race for space with Sputnik. The Dodgers and Giants follow old Horace Greely’s advice and “Go West, young man.” The Beav and Wally set the standard for brotherly goofiness.
Kids find Barbie Dolls, Hula hoops and Frisbees under the Christmas tree. Teflon pans hit the kitchens.
Westerns are big, with Maverick, Rawhide, Have Gun Will Travel, and The Rifleman.
Playboy magazine and oral contraceptives joint the cultural mileu. Hmmm. Coincidence?
John F. Kennedy, Gary Powers and the U2 (no, not the band), Psycho, and Dobie Gillis keep us jumping. Fritos hit the stores, and Barbie finds a man…Ken Doll. (Didn’t have his outfit, either).
We are uplifted by the Peace Corps, shocked by the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Berlin Wall, and scared by Yuri Gagarin in a space suit.
On a lighter note, we sing Blue Moon, and watch Rocky and Bullwinkle on Sunday nights. Folk rock is big. Valium hits the shelves.
Lee Harvey Oswald hits us all. Southeast Asia gets nastier. Civil rights demonstrations throttle up. The transplanted Los Angeles Dodgers sweep the mighty Yanks. Kookie wears out his comb on the Sunset Strip.
Top music hits are from the Motown sound, and of course, “I Want To Hold Your Hand.”
Beatlemania takes hold. Cassius Clay “whups” Sonny Liston. The Cards beat the Yankees, to end the Boomer Years.
The rest, as they say, is history.

CRAZY DAYS

2007-01-18T18:16:00.000-08:00

The news carries stories of children, lost now found. Their faces, smiling but somehow sad.
Only the beginning of the road for all involved....the boys, their families, the suspect, his family, the communities, those still searching, searching, for their own lost loved ones.
What a crazy world. What does it all mean, my daughter asks me? How can someone be so evil, she says? Those poor boys.....and so she struggles with this very real, very adult issue, in her own adolescence/angst ridden time.
Many questions, many answers, many more shocks to come, I am afraid....
"Tune in tomorrow for the latest"....as they say on the news.

A SUGGESTION FOR RESOLUTION

2007-01-15T14:35:00.000-08:00

Here is a column from the Journal, an idea for the new year.
++++++++++++++++++

Is it possible to forgive, but not forget? I mean, if you are shooting for full forgiveness. I’ve heard it said that if one cannot forget a wrong doing, then they haven’t fully forgiven the trespasser, to use the words of the prayer. At the same time, can the human mind ever forget something that has hurt the heart so deeply? Will it not always be in our memory as one of life’s experiences?
Thoughts such as these have been in my head these past few weeks as my family was dealing with some rather significant pains and injustices. One of our gang had some tough stuff to deal with.
We all suffered. We all went through the phases, like mourning, I guess, of anger and denial, then moving toward acceptance. Variously and individually, we all went at it at our own pace, and we are now at different places on the journey. Intellectually, we all know that forgiveness is the end goal, that it must become the final chapter in the story. Otherwise, the bitterness will do nothing but corrode our hearts and souls; the resentment, so real and honest, will linger and fester like an oozing boil.
Something I read in a pamphlet this Advent gave me a good start on my journey. It spoke of “becoming a forgiver”. I saw this process as not like a water faucet that can be turned off with a simple twist. No, it is more like a gradual burning down of a fire in the hearth, once roaring and spitting and sizzling, becoming more evened, turning to embers, then to ashes. When you can scoop up the ashes in cupped hands and blow them to the four winds, you have reached forgiveness. You have become a forgiver.
Applying this to recent events, the concept makes sense. We have had times when things seemed to be going in the right direction, then comes a flare up, much like a log rolling over and exposing the coals to new fuel. But in time, the flame drops and the embers do burn themselves out, and there is nothing left but ashes. These are the memories.
It is now a new year, new in time and opportunity. If you have no one to forgive, lucky are you. But if there is someone who fits the description of a person in need of forgiveness, well…..we’re always looking for that meaningful resolution, aren’t we? (aside from the post-Christmas cookie binge annual 10 pound drop, that is.)
Keep in mind that it is a process, this “becoming a forgiver” thing. Everyone runs the path at their own speed. And watch out for those flare-ups. But know that in the end, if you don’t add fuel to the fire, it will die and all that is left is the ashes.
So here’s to blowin’ those ashes to the old NorthWind in 2007.
_____________________________________________________

THE SECRET SOURCE OF HUMOR

2007-01-10T09:52:00.000-08:00

Good old buddy Mark Twain, maybe the greatest American writer ever to put pen to paper, said that "The secret source of humor itself is not joy but sorrow. There is no humor in heaven."
When things seem to be going wrong, it is humor that can carry you through. Or at least help temporarilly, until you get your bearings back.
____
On a different note altoghether, I just saw a picture in the paper of Richard Nixon and Elvis, the King, shaking hands as he and Elvis met in the Oval Office to talk about E. becoming a secret agent against the drug problem in the country. No, seriously. Talk about irony and incongruity.
I mean, The King and the Prez
Apparently, Mr. Nix gave Elvis a badge that made him an "agent at large." Well. He did get large, and he did have an insiders knowledge of the drug scene, as we have all found out.
This year he would have been 72 years of age. Think of Elvis on Medicare.

Maybe it is better that our icons die young.

EPIPHANY

2007-01-07T12:46:00.000-08:00

The word "epiphany" means a sudden understanding or manifestation/perception of a concept. It also stand for a Catholic feast, probably all Christians celebrate it, of the three Wise Guys making their way to visit the new arrival in Bethlehem. They came by way of the east, so the story and song goes, and happened upon the miraculous little one by following the star.
January 6 is the official date in the Catholic Church for this celebration. In my mind, this manifestation, this understanding could be any and everyday that sees love come into your life.
Jesus was the Big Love, the Main Man, Divine Being come in human form. His arrival, heralded by angels on high and celebrated by the lowliest of the lowly, the shepherds, marked for us the beginning of our salvation.
The manifestation I have been having lately is that love is everything.
My wife has been going throught some tough times, suffered some real injustices. She is one of the most sincere, selfless, giving people I have ever met. In her there is no deceit, no ulterior motive, no hypocrisy. And sometimes she gets dumped on.
Well, our family has rallied around her admirably. Our daughters and sons could not have been more concerned and loving and supportive of their mom, amidst all the pain and disappointment and resentment, and yeah, eventually, forgiveness.
To them, love for her was everything.
And my own mom has had a rough go these past few weeks. Falling to a broken hip and surgery the day after Christmas, she has been through a lot at 85 years of age. But she has a love of life and of family that is pulling her through. Tough old gal, she is.
So I wish "epiphany" to you all in 2007.............it can be very enlightening.

FELIZ ANO NUEVO

2007-01-05T13:03:00.000-08:00

Here it is, 2007. Hard to believe it is over 7 years since Y2k madness. Anyone get caught up in that silliness? I have to admit that I did a bit, with food in storage downstairs and ice in the freezer. I still have a few plastic jugs of water frozen, keeping it there just for laughs. But then, the laughs weren't so funny when we lost our power here in the good ole midwest TWICE this year, each time for extended days.
So the dependence on electricity was brought home, literally, with those events.
Now the weather is just stupidly warm for winter.....but no ice storms, thenk yew vurry much.
(a small reference to Elvis, whose birthday my daughter MP and I share this coming Jan 8.....no, no....no need for presents....just send cash...or click on the ads on the sidebar....)
_______________
As for 2007, I resolve to make more entries in this bloggie thing. If for no other reason than I have opinions about most things, and what the heck, it might be fun for awhile again.

For anyone who is interested, I still write a bi-weekly column for the St. Louis Suburban Journals, and it can be found at http://northwestcountyjournal.stltoday.com
You gotta do a little searching, under Opinions, but it's there.
c ya/

BACK FOR A WHILE....

2006-12-15T13:43:00.000-08:00

Hello again, sports fans...back for awhile, from a short time off. I wanted to post this poem/parody I wrote last year, for the folks who might link from my Suburban Journal colunm and for anyone who happens on this page.
Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy and Holy New Year for 2007.
CARPE DIEM, for you just never know.....

A CHRISTMAS VISION

Couple days before Christmas
And all through this place
We are anxiously laboring
To finish the race.
The hours of roof-time had not been in vain;
I managed to finish, in spite of the pain.
Those lights were all working, much to my surprise,
I plugged in the last strand and opened my eyes
To see the old homestead go bright in the dark.
I sure didn’t want to be like old buddy Clark.
You know, that guy who strung lights to get ready,
Only to suffer his “dear Cousin Eddie”….
That film is a classic, a holiday fave,
But let me continue with this Yuletide rave.
Kids stockings are hung by our chimney, it’s true…
With increasing grandkids, we’ve got quite a few.
There’s five scattered ‘round, with one more on the way,
And one, who calls home Californ-I-A,
Who’ll experience Christmas with sunshine and sand…
Oh, how I’d love to hold her little hand.
(Still lots to be done, can’t be melancholy,
Gotta deck all them halls with them big boughs of holly.)
But last night I lay sleeping and heard a loud crash,
Could that be a raccoon upsetting the trash?
I glanced at the missus, and she was a-sleeping,
So on down to the hallway window I went peeping.
You could scarcely believe what I saw as I viewed…
“What the heck?” muttered I. “You must be trippin’, dude!”
For out on that lawn in a Mustang bright red
Was an old guy with whiskers and a big old bald head.
He wore a red sweat suit and black hi-top “Chucks”,
And he looked like some weirdo out getting his yucks.
He said not a word, but popped open the trunk,
And the light of the moon, it showed all sorts of junk.
I had to check out what this old guy was into
So I pulled on the blinds as I yanked up the window.
“Hey you, down there, on the yard with the stuff…
Don’t make me come down there…don’t make me get rough!
”The fellow just grinned as he turned up my way,
“Take a chill pill, there, grampa, and do not dismay.
Why, I’m just the man that you need in a pinch.
I’ll fill up your family room….every dang inch.
But I’m too old for chimneys, and it’s too late for playin’,
So give me a hand, here…You hear what I’m sayin’?
”You can guess I was dazed at the sight of this gent,
But downstairs I stumbled, and outdoors I went.
He loaded us up with huge piles of great stuff
Like toys, gifts and clothing…his game was no bluff.
He handled the big things, which was all right with me,
Already the cold was aching my knee.
When at last as the trunk was just emptied all out,
He gave me a wink, then he let out a shout….
“WooooHoooo!” said the guy as he rose like a star,
And when he was gone…..He had left me his car!
My best Christmas ever? Not really; no way.
Our best was our first born one past Christmas Day.
But, guess what, this here one was pretty dang fine.
Didn’t cost me no nickel, didn’t cost me one dime.
So if you see me gunnin’ that ‘Twang” through the streets,
With as many can fit in them white leather seats,
You’ll hear me exclaim as I roll down the way
“Happy Christmas To All…I’ll be back New Years Day!”

COMING ATTRACTIONS.......

2006-07-06T18:07:00.000-07:00

Well, looks like the procreation bug has bitten the kids in Cali......#7 "grandkid to be" in the hopper...congrats to Tim and Allison and big sissy Emma.........With Kate and Jamie still cooking theirs, all is well, and expanding, in the clan....
#######################################################

Here are a few of the latest mind meanderings from the Suburban Journal......

What activity do Lance Armstrong, Churchill, Edison, Bill Clinton, LBJ and JFK all have in common? These famous names all were world-class nappers. They had the knack of being able to easily drift off into cloud land. They could shut it down, take ten, rest their eyes, kick back, doze off mid-day, all in a planned effort to recharge the batteries.
Humbly, I find myself in their company with my acquired talent at sliding into a brain stall. I am known in the family as the guy who can sleep anywhere (I once zoned out on the driveway….not a recommended practice.) But it seems that, according to health reports, napping is a good thing.
Recent research shows that the stereotypical sombrero guys have had the right idea all along. Napping is not a sign of laziness. It can be a therapeutic activity and an intelligent step in improving overall health. At least that’s what I tell the lovely wife.
Internationally, the good people of Germany are the best nappers, says a survey done in 2002. A good portion of my heritage comes from that region, so maybe my trait comes genetically. The Germans are followed closely by Italy, England, Portugal and Spain. (sounds like a World Cup lineup).
And in Japan, always reliable for codifying a practice, the government Health Ministry recommends a 20 to 30 minute snooze before 3 o’clock, to “improve general well-being and efficiency.”
This mid-day shutdown is purported to allow the body to release stress-busting hormones, slow the heart rate and lower blood pressure. All good things, and combined with regular rhythmic breathing, a good siesta can reset the system for the rest of a day.
Now the boys in the white coats say that the best time for a nappy poo is between 1-2:30, the well-documented post lunch stupor. But dropping your head down for a couple of winks can be a problem, since most folks are at work about that time. Plus, it’s always embarrassing trying to explain that drool spot on those important papers you were reviewing. And as a side note, if one is a brain surgeon or airline pilot, please wait until you are off the clock.
The fine art of “The Little Sleep” is frowned upon by our go-go, produce-at-all-costs society. Folks brag about their 14 hour days and getting by on a few hours sleep. But the evidence is coming in that maybe we should rethink that mindset. Really, wouldn’t you rather have a well-rested doc working on your noggin, and a pilot who just got up from a refreshing half hour in the employee lounge?
Some folks say that day time snoozing keeps them up at night. True, insomnia is fast becoming a national epidemic, especially among women. But a body just might need a mid-day time-out now and then.
Scientists gauge that the ideal drift-off is from 10 to 30 minutes. Your ticker and your noodle slow down, muscles take a chill, and you get into the first two stages of sleep. No need to go to the rapid-eye or restorative sleep phase to reap the benefits of a short switch-off. Even just a little daily sneak-away can improve the whole dang system.
On the safe side, it is probably a good idea to inform co-workers of your plans for that hide-out, lest they walk into the storeroom and call 911, seeing you flat out under the copy paper shelf. But if you’re a mom, and the little stinkers go down for their slumber, then don’t be a silly….join them!!! That dirty tub is still going to be there after you wake up.
So, friends, I recommend setting those kitchen timers and cell phone alarms. Find a nice quiet place, slice off part of your lunch hour, skip the caffeine and hunker down somewhere safe for a quick study of the inside of your eyelids.
Your brain and your heart will thank you for it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Every 4 years the same question comes up. Actually, it’s a two-parter. First, why do we in the US of A call the most popular sport in the world “soccer”, and two, why has this game of “football” not become greater in our country.
As to the first part of the answer, most sources say that the word “soccer” comes from a derivation of the organization that ran English football, The Association Football.
People abbreviated that to be Assoc., and the British, with a penchant for using the –er suffix on things, such as “rugger” for a player of rugby, used the term “assoc-er for a player of the association football game. This 19th century usage came over with immigrants to the new world and stuck. It was a way also of showing distinction from the American version of rugby, which became our football. Clear? Yeah, as mud.
Which leads into the second part of the every 4 year query. There are lots of pieces to the puzzle as to why one of the wealthiest and influential nations in the world doesn’t embrace “football”. It can’t be from lack of participation. Largely an ethnic game in the first part of the previous century, it became a game of youth, fueled by, yes, the baby boom.
We had 4 or 5 teams in our first grade alone. Yellow shirts, blue, green….stocking hats and jeans and the high top English style boots with the hard round toe and the leather spikes that were nailed to the sole. This was the Atom league, and only when you moved up to the 3rd or 4th grade did you get the full ensemble of jersey with shorts and socks. From here the game has gone wild, with better equipment, better training, summer camps galore, teams and leagues and tournaments everywhere, indoor and outdoor, all year long. So where does all this interest go when we get to the pro level?
The experts say that there just may be too much competition for the sports dollar, with baseball and basketball, football and even hockey sucking the money from our pockets. A deeper question for our area is why doesn’t the pro soccer see St. Louis as a good risk for a franchise? Other towns like Salt Lake City and Columbus can support a squad, and some are even making profits. Why can’t we do the same? Or, are we so spoiled with winning with the Cardinals and Rams that our populace is seen as lacking the resolve to build a following for a new team on the scene? Hard to say. This has been called a tough market to crack. Witness no NBA team. Maybe we’re seen as frugal. Or cheap.
The Cheap label may fit. I have a hard time with the prices of sporting events. Usually, I only go if the ducats are freebies. So possibly economics is the issue.
But while that may be the case in our area, why is I tthat the land with the highest per capita income can’t absorb another sport easily?
Some say it is the nature of the game, with a lack of scoring, continuous action and foreign influence. But hey didn’t I just describe hockey? A noted soccer expert recently said that if a few soccer players became famous celebrities with enormous salaries, and just happened to be married to supermodels, then folks might take notice. We do love our celebrities. How else do you explain the popularity of the Oprah show?
The answer is probably a combination of all the above. When you look at it, soccer really is more popular than ever in America.
Let’s just hope the current US team doesn’t choke in this years Cup.
That could leave a mark.

SEE 'YA.....

2006-06-19T17:41:00.000-07:00

This site started out back in May of '05 as an attempt to make a few extra bucks. So I thought. Well, that never panned out. But it was fun to put stuff up and to see just who might read it. There are some very nice folks, very talented and caring individuals who have weighed in on my comments over cyberspace. I hope some of the stuff I put out there was meaningful, even brought a tear or a smile.
But it is time to put a hold on things....for every thing there is a season.
Anyone interested can still find the meanderings of my mind on the web site of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, at www.stltoday.com. Search "Suburban Journals" and the column is called "A Boomer's Journal".
To all who have read this, thanks for taking the time.
God Bless.

"OH THE PAIN...."

2006-06-13T11:30:00.000-07:00

Despite all the security afforded the US team in Germany, someone clearly kidnapped the real squad and replaced them with robots....I think an international investigation should be launched, maybe focusing on a coalition of soccer-ignorant American radio geeks, possibly a disgruntled cadre of hockey fans...It is clear from the performance of the boys who wore the Red White and Blue yesterday that the US team that qualified was not the group who took the field against Czech Republic...
Granted. the Czech were a strong team, ranked #2 worldwide....but our men showed nothing but the ability to pass backwards to flatfooted backs.....
I place the blame on coach Bruce Arena.....clearly, he does not play, but he sets the team up, makes the selections, determines the starters and subs......sets the tone. These guys were not ready to play the St. Norbert 8th grade girls team, much less the second-best side in the whole dang universe.

What will happen now...?
The Yanks have to win over Italy, and win big. They can't expect Ghana to beat the Czechs and the US-Ghana game will be meaningless without a big victory over the Eye-talians. The Italy-Czech game will be for first place in the group, and without a lot of goals by the US, the second spot will also be determined by that game.

Hope springs eternal, but that spring is drying up fast.

GO USA....STILL HANGING IN THERE!!!

PLAN FOR YOUR HEALTH

2006-06-11T15:51:00.000-07:00

I think that after 57 years I finally have hit on something that will, at the very least, have me feeling better over the years.

After exhaustive research and investigation (yeah, right...), it looks like a common sense approach to life that requires....
* daily exercise * sensible eating * relaxation techniques *positive visualization

Nothing really radical in these elements...I mean, experts have been touting these for years. But it is in the specifics of each feature that offer all the benefits.

The exercise is something I can handle....walking. About 30-40 minutes daily, and maybe 10-15 minutes a second time. Easy enough to do, listen to the headphones....it's over before you know it.
The eating deal is really easy too....except it takes a little planning and effort. Eat breakfast, include dairy, carbs and fruit, eat a snack with protein and carbs at mid morning, a simple lunch with salad and sandwich, mid afternoon snack like the mornings, not a big dinner and a before bed snack with carbs and protein, like a peanut butter sandwich and small glass of milk. Seems like a lot of eating, but it meet the DASH diet for lowering blood pressure, the idea of not eating continuously, but every 2-3 hours, focusing on fresh fruits and vegetables with a minimum of fats. You get to eat all the food groups and almost everything okay in moderation.
I can still throw in the occasional "Big and Tasty with small fries" from that Scottish restaurant....(you know, McDonalds). And when we shop we try to buy more stuff from the outside aisles of the store....like dairy and vegetables, staying away from processed, canned and boxed as much as possible.
The whole idea is to boost the metabolism at the right times of the day, reducing inflammation of the joints and internal organs, fuel up this wonderful invention of God called the human body in the right way....... Long term goal is to reduce cholesterol and blood pressure and increase endorphins, melatonin and dopamine in a natural way. You know, fighting Boomeritis, which has been defined as the disease of growing older, with its associated aches and pains, but refusing to give in to them. And to do it without having to go to prescription meds until it is absolutely necessary, because once you start them, you usually need them forever.

The relaxation and positive visualization comes from doing the Tai Chi and a daily relaxation technique that I stole from a web site on a thing called Resperate, a machine that helps you lower your breathing rate for 15 minutes to less than 10 breaths per minute, which is supposed to help regulate BP. So far all this stuff seems to be working....the BP is in line, weight is fine, had my best Cardio blood work in 2 years recently....and feeling of depression or What the Hell are very much gone. And being a Catholic, I am trying to get to Mass and confession more often. The grace you get from sacraments is like muscle power for the soul.

I ain't sayin' that meds are not needed, especially if a person has genetic predispositions to heart disease, diabetes, depression, etc...... but there seems to be a heck of a lot we can do naturally, without supplements or herbal remedies that I trust even less than meds, before heading to the Phamaceutical remedy.

My wife works with a group of cardio thoracic surgeons. She said that 95% of the people they see are in poor health due to lifestyle rather than genetics.

Food for thought.

"DON'T TREAD ON US"

2006-06-09T13:31:00.000-07:00

TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE WORLD CUP!!!
GERMANY HAVE JUST DEFEATED COSTA RICA, 4-2, TO BE THE FIRST WINNER. CAN YOU TELL I'M EXCITED?!!!??? (THE ABOVE SENTENCE CONTAINS A GRAMATICAL ERROR..."GERMANY HAVE...." BUT THIS IS HOW THE EUROPEANS TALK, ESPECIALLY WHEN REFERRING TO TEAMS OF NATIONS... THEY REFER TO THEM AS PLURAL..."THE U.S. HAVE..... POLAND HAVE....")
SO IN KEEPING WITH THAT.....
THE U.S. HAVE A CHANCE TO GO DEEP INTO THE TOURNAMENT.....THE STRONGEST TEAM IN THE HISTORY OF ALL U.S. TEAMS GOING TO THE CUP...
"U.S.A.!! U.S.A.!! U.S.A!!........."
I CAN'T WAIT TO WEAR MY TIE-DYE RED, WHITE AND BLUE SHIRT ON MONDAY!!!!!!!!

DON'T LOOK NOW, BUT ISN'T THAT.......?????

2006-06-08T09:54:00.001-07:00

I was listening to the radio yesterday, and heard a guy talking about how we really do not have the whole story on the September 11 events. He was the head of a group that feels that there is evidence supporting other sources of mayhem, an alternative reason for the third World Trade Center building that was not hit by a plane to come a-tumbling down, and more-than-subtle hinting that our government was keeping things from us.
Welllll, Batman...... what have we here, thunk I.

I probably agree that there is much more to the whole 9/11 thing than we will ever know in the next 20 years or so. I say this for a variety of reasons. Whenever I read historical non-fiction, or biographies, there is always the element of hindsight and scholarship that go into the works. And invariably, that study of papers and letters and documents yeilds truths and insights that those living in the times of the subjects have no way of knowing about. The Truman bio had all kinds of stuff about WWII, and the Manhattan Project, and the Korean War. The life story of John Adams is ripe with juicy stuff about Jefferson and Washington and their not-so-well-known motivations. Peggy Noonan's "John Paul the Great" is a wonderful piece on the life and times of one of the 20th Centuries most fascinating figures, and there is a lot we didn't know about him and why he did what he did that only could be listed in retrospect.

We have found out a lot after the fact about Agent Orange, Gulf War Syndrome, Pearl Harbor........

Then we have all the work done on the Kennedy and King assasinations. I feel like we do not have that whole story, either. Maybe never will.

So why would anyone be surprised that we may not have the truth and nothing but the truth about 9/11?

After all, haven't we all been in a situation where we have experienced an event or happenstance first hand, only to see the news account or read the paper report, and wonder if we were at the same event?

Sure folks can get carried away with this sort of seeking......But it makes one take pause....

Anyway, that's what the guy behind me at Shop 'n' Save and I were talking about. He was buying some bread and peanut butter and bananas, and was a little short on cash. So I gave him $5......

"Thenk yew, ....thenk yew vurra much," he drawled deeply.

Hey....you don't suppose.......????????

SIX ....SIX...OH SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2006-06-06T10:00:00.000-07:00

The day has come we have all been waiting for.....at least those who are into hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia, which is the official name for the fear of the number 666 being linked to the Anti-Christ.
All I can say is...EWWWWEEEEeeeeeeeeWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!
A lot of hooey.
I can't believe in this, primarilly because today is my oldest son's birthday, and while he was growing up we sometimes checked his forehead for numbers, he has been a joy and a blessing to us. So bad luck didn't visit us on this day 28 years ago. In fact, if you want to talk about luck, he just called from Vegas where he and his little family are visiting for a few, and told us that right after midnight last night, he rolled a 6 on the craps table, followed by 4 more sixes, and he won $200 bucks!!

So there, Beezlebub.

I guess I shouldn't mess with the Dark One, since he is real. Just think child abuse, war, cheating, hate, prejudice. All his cup of tea.

But I believe in the Higher Power, the Guys of the Three in One, who said they will be with us always, even until the end.

And I plan to take them up on this promise. God knows, I can use the protection.

Have a great June 6th, '06, and don't forget to drop a note Upstairs for all the soldiers who fought for our rights to live in peace and pursue happiness as they gave their lives back in 1942.

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING...SILLY!

2006-06-05T14:41:00.000-07:00

I find that I am happiest when I can be silly. That is such a silly word...."SILLY." The more you say it, the sillier it sounds.....silly, silly, silly. See what I mean? Still, silly takes the sting out of things, make tense moments lighter, brightens a mood, cheers a sad heart, and brings a smile just when you think there are none left.

Some of the greatest comics are in the Silly Class....Martin Short, Steve Allen, Adam Sandler (ok maybe not great, but silly for sure), Eddie Murphy, Richard Pryor, Gene Wilder, and the King of Silly....Jerry Lewis.
LAAAADYYYYYYY!!!!!

For some reason, guys can get away with silly better than girls. Maybe it goes back to the class clown thing....do you remember any class clown's who were girls? I can't. Societal standards may have kept the truly funny chicks from showing their stuff until later in life. But now that I think on this subject, a few women come up to the standard. Heck, Lucy set the standard, back in the '50's. She was copied by many, most notably Laverne Di Fazio and Shirley Feeney (yeah, I know this isn't their real names. But they live in my heart as those characters....as do their foils, Lenny and Squiggy.)

So today's assignment is to smile at somebody who doesn't expect it.....make a goofy face in the mirror....sing a song in a chipmunk voice.....walk stupid......have a little fun at your own expense.

Make someone laugh.....Be SILLY!!!!!!!

SUMMER'S SENSES

2006-06-04T12:47:00.000-07:00

The eldest daughter said the other day that the sound of an outside air conditioner kicking on always brings back memories of the great summers in the backyard of our first house.
What memories are activated by the sounds and smells of this warm season?

One that always reminds me of a lazy summer Sunday is the smell of someone firing up the ole barbecue pit, with the odor of lighter fluid strong in it's burning. Before gas grills, everyone had to drop the charcoal and spill on liberal quantities of chemical. God only knows how healthy all this was, but is sure smelled great.
Then there was the smell of leather when you rubbed your glove with oil. That was an early-season ritual, one that meant action. Mix a little dirt in the pocket, smooth it into the fingers and you were guaranteed an error-free game. Or at least a few innings.
To continue this baseball theme, how about the crack of the bat, white ash making solid contact with horsehide? Or the taste of dirt on a safe slide into home. Never fails to get the juices flowing.
Of course, a lot better taste is the first bite into an ice cold watermellon, or a hot dog slicked up with mustard.
Or the first deep swig of that beer that has been in the bottom of the cooler all afternoon. Ahhhhhhhh.

What senses are stimmed to produce your summer memories?

THE VASTE WASTELAND?

2006-06-03T08:24:00.000-07:00

Remember when Television was called the Vaste Wasteland. Well, I guess it is never more true than today. Reality shows and "how to dress" shows and "Dog the Bounty Hunter" for pity sakes........For me the best time for T.V. memories was the first two decades or so of the boob tube's existence.
We had adventure shows like "Davy Crockett" and "Superman." Have you ever really gotten over the sight of George Reeves in blue tights? There he was standing stradle-legged in front of a giant waving American Flag....."who, disguised as Clark Kent, fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice and the American Way." Politically, this show was an overt warning to those dirty Red Commies that were taking up so much of our countries bad dreams in the 50's. Don't tread on us, or we will send George Reeves after you. And don't forget old coonskin-cap wearin' Davy. He may have really died at the Alamo, but Fess Parker was the next best thing. Why, "he kilt him a bar', when he was only 3!" Plus, we had the underwater regions safe, with Mike Nelson of Sea Hunt....I never could figure our how he could hold his breath through the commercial break and still have anything left to knife-fight three brutes with spear guns. I always was him when we messed around at the pool.
There is just so much to talk about when it comes to the t.v. of my youth......
I promise I will visit this subject soon again.

In the mean time, I think the TLC channel is doing toilet bowl decorating this afternoon.

MUST SEE TEE VEE!!!!!

IT'S A GAME OF TAG

2006-06-02T11:01:00.000-07:00

I got a tag by rdl. Rather than play it straight, ahmma gonna answer with what I would like to answer, interspersed with some real truths......you be the judge as to what is fact and what is fiction.
So here ya go...........

Accent....Australian, mate.
Booze.....Maker's Mark Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey
Chore.....hate 'em all...really.
Dogs/Cats.....hate 'em all....really....'specially cats.
Essential Electronic device......radio...so many station, topics, such freedom and you can do other stuff while listening....just love it.
Favorite cologne/perfume.....whatever my wife is wearing.
Gold/silver...teeth? fillings? as investments? hard to say. Green cash is nice.
Hometown...good ole midwest fly-over Saint Louis...
Insomnia....had a spurt of it this winter...is schtinks bad....my condolences to anyone who has it full time.
Job title.....unemployed for the summer. (it's a hint!)
Kids.....yes, thank you very much.....6 of the buggers, with 4 grandkids and 2 on the way soon.
Living arrangements....in a very fulfilling monogamous 34 year relationship with my girlfriend, who I also conveniently happen to be married to.
Most Admired Trait.....no idea...it ain't my hair, that's for sure.
Number of sexual partners....see "Living Arrangements" above...that's all that anyone really needs to know.
Overnight hospital stays......none to date..Thanks Be to the Big Doctor in the Sky.
Phobia....fear of listing things....just joking....probably roller coasters...never been, never will, unless I live to be 90, then what the hell!!!!!
Quote.....oh, so many.....how about "ADVERSITY IS THE MOTHER OF CHANGE". (I made that up just now.)
Religion.....card-carrying cradle-Catholic and proud of it.
Siblings.....only child....so are my two brothers.
Time I wake up....right after I have slept all night with only a couple visits to the boys room.
Unusual talent.....bite my toenails.
Veggie refuse to eat.......squash....it just sounds gooey.
Worst habit.....see "Unusual talent" above.....hey, could be a lot worse.
X-rays.....this is probably only in this list because no other word starts with "X"; had one recently of my head....came up negative.
Yummy foods I make.....I made a cookie called "Spitzbuben" an Austrian cookie that my grandma and mom used to make at Christmas...turned out pretty good.
Zodiac sign......Peace, baby!

Caio, bella!

2006-06-01T13:01:00.001-07:00

We received from the friendly UPS driver our new digital camera. Or should I say, first digital camera. Yeah I know they have been around "a little minute now" as a smarty pants clerk at Sears said to me the other day. But keeping with my tradition of being the last guy on my block to have anything new, I decided to wait until I was fed up with getting back a pack of 24 pics with only about a half dozen of them any good. This way, I can delete the bad shots and pay only for those that do not have someones hand in front of their face or their eyes closed or looking like they just got goosed.....
I even plan to learn how to use the printing machine at Walgreens....now that is a summer adventure if ever there was one.
Speaking of adventure, me and "She Who Must Be Obeyed" are going to take in the ponies tomorrow....I've been picking the races at Fairmount out of the paper, and last time had 4 winners.....I can't tell you my system, 'cause I don't have one.......yet.
Some say bet the gray horse, some say bet the jockey, some the horse.....we shall see how I do.
I'm sure my kids are thinking..."Oh great...one more goofy thing for dad to do."
The tai chi is coming along....very relaxing and good for stretching.....the names of the movements are hilarious...."partition of wild horses mane"....."repulse monkey"...."stork cooling wings"......"gorilla picking nose"....(I made that last one up.)
Go CARDS!!!!

YAY SUMMER!!

2006-05-30T11:25:00.000-07:00

The long-awaited end of the school year has finally come. Busy times and crazy days with the "scholars", as they try to make it the last few hours of their 8th grade careers (for some, anyway. Others may be "returning lettermen", so to speak. Oh, well....I tried...)
Memorial Day trip to Chicago has kept me off the posting. Love to see the little ones in the Windy City. Hate the drive, especially the last hour into the city of mass traffic. I can do about 4 hours, and the co-pilot has to take the wheel for the final approach.

Speaking of Memorial Day...... God bless those who gave the "last full measure of devotion."
And bless those who have survived physically, but still carry the scars of the psyche, as they try to continue the life they fought to preserve.

Me and the spouse plan to spend some time going to a few Cards games, maybe the track, maybe just hanging out, since the youngest stayed up north for a few weeks. Call it a vacation where you get to sleep in your own bed.....
Lots of chores and projects to keep me busy around the plantation..... looks like a hot summer is brewing...but it beats work.

A DAY OF HONOR

2006-05-14T12:02:00.000-07:00

The best today to all who have borne a child ... mom's all over should be proud of what they have done.
In church today, I was thinking about all the mothers in my family, from my own, to my wife to my two daughters and one daughter-in-law, to all the sisters-in-law.....and then on back to grandmas Kate and Mamie, aunts Edna, Lily, Marie, Celeste, Dorothy, Magdalen, ....all good solid women, who did their best over time to bring up their children.
What a gift to have life grow inside you..what a legacy they have left and will build as they carry on Mary's work.............

...Bless you all on this day.

TIME FOR A CHANGE

2006-05-08T18:22:00.000-07:00

This has been a rough year for the family, with the story to be told over time in this space. But one of the good byproducts of tough times is that it can cause positive change.
So over the next few months, I am taking steps to improve my diet, exercise and approach to life in general.
Wanting to drop my blood pressure, which is in the pre-hypertensive range, I am going to get more into omega 3 foods, increase exercise with the goal of 45-60 minutes daily, reduce caffeine, and take two more very important steps. One will be very easy, and one will require discipline and a great deal of study.
The first is to simply smile more.
The research is there that this simple act can greatly improve ones health. More on this later.
The second step is to become proficient in Tai Chi.

I'll let you know how it goes...........(he said with a big smile).

THE NEW BUSCH STADIUM

2006-04-30T18:51:00.000-07:00

DOWN TO THE BALLPARK WE WENT THIS PAST FRIDAY.....GENERAL IMPRESSION:

Hard to say. Still not too impressed with the place. Too hodgepodge lodge for me. Of course, it was only one visit and I should give it another chance. Guess I thought the old place had an architectural beauty that I haven't seen yet in the new one. And, I am a bit put off, as the British would say, by all the advertising, party porches, beer gardens, scoreboard shenanigans, text messaging schtick, batting cages, restaurants, etc. etc. that are great revenue generators but....hey, look,those men in funny pants are playing some sort of game down on the lawn. So that's why we came to this joint.
For a more detailed treatise on this crabfest, I'll post something soon.

...AND THE BEAT GOES ON....

2006-04-30T18:41:00.000-07:00

Welllllll Batman......(Remember when the announcer would come on and say that on the TV series?)....
We spent another set of quality hours in the good ole ER last week....All Sunday afternoon and then most of Monday...the lovely spouse was in again with debilitating back pain, right side lower....we thought it was kidney stones again...but alas, it never was, as a meticulous ER doc did a test that showed that she had a FREAKIN' MESSED UP GALL BLADDER, STONES INCLUDED!
So finally we get to the bottom of the story...and after laproscopic surgery, bye bye gall bladder and good riddance to ye. May ye rot in hell for the pain you gave my darlin'.
Patient is doing well, and glad to be rid of the nearly useless organ. She sure can go to great lengths to get a few weeks off of work.
*******************

IT'S A GIFT WE TAKE FOR GRANTED

2006-04-20T18:14:00.000-07:00

Dang, isn't it always like this? Why does it take a tragedy to knock us in the head, to make us realize the gift we have everyday we wake up and we have indeed woken up....again?
This week, a young teenager was found after weeks of being missing. He had probably had too much to drink, drove his car into a lake, and died. Tragic, accidental death. Then, the other day a misguided, messed up man took 4 lives, and then his own, over a wage garnishment, of all things. Sure it was probably a lot more than that, but his rage hit our area like a hammer on the head.
And yesterday the dad of one of our youngests best friends died suddenly, while exercising.
A great dad and husband, generous folks, a kid with a promising future....no longer.
Senseless, tragic, seemingly unexplainable losses, sure to have repercussions and reverberations across families, genders, races.....
Why?
No answers here. Just sadness, pain, disillusionment.
But a wake up call?
You bet.
Thanks, Lord for the use of another day.
Hope I did it justice.

MORE ODDS THAN ENDS

2006-04-11T18:35:00.000-07:00

Lost the pool at work in the NCAA tourney....the boys from LA let me down. Oh well, like the Cubs fans always say...wait til next year.
*************
This is Holy Week, and the thoughts of perseverance and endurance come to mind.
Jesus had to persevere through what must have been the hardest week in his short life. He knew in the triumph of Palm Sunday that he would be dead before the week was out, and not in an easy way, but in the most ignominious manner known to that society. A few years ago, we read Jim Bishop's " The Day Christ Died." It tells the very real horror of crucifixion.
But Jesus endured for us, for our evil ways, for our weakness.....He showed perseverance, through the last day of his remarkable life.
Can I show even a tiny piece of that in times of my troubles, whatever or whenever they come to me?
Every day when I roll out of bed, I have been asking the Holy Spirit for the courage to be who I must be through the new day.
Jesus said "I will be with you always".....and I gotta take Him up on that promise.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.......in the name of the Trinity, let me live my life.

GO BRUINS!!!!.....AND OTHER STUFF.

2006-03-28T14:46:00.000-08:00

The only way I can win at the work pool is if UCLA goes all the way.....which is a pretty fair possibility.....even then, I can only get second place or a tie for second.
Still..........Go Uclans......................
*************************************

I came across a page of stuff I wrote back in Jan. of '99. Don't recall if it was all from my head, but it looks like it.
Here it be..............

**There will always be someone richer and poorer than you. That much is certain. So just accept where you are, with the hope that God's will leads you to what you will need.

**Life never stays constant. Always, it will change. You will never be disappointed.

**However, love can be the only constant. Through it all, love stays. Through good and bad, true love stays.

**Having faith doesn't mean that things will not go wrong, and you will not sometimes fall down.
But having faith gives you the strength to get up. Again. And again.

**What is essential is invisible to the eye. Still, keep looking for that essence.

**When things go well, enjoy them. Don't worry that it can't last. Truly, it can't.
So don't spoil it by worry. When things go poorly, endure them. Don't worry that it will never end. Truly, it will. Time has proven that all things come to pass. Good and Evil.

**When you think you can't, then don't think. Just do. Reason cannot answer every ill. Go to God, who is above reason, and gives answers to your heart.

HOOPS UPDATE

2006-03-24T18:11:00.000-08:00

My bracket is still looking pretty good. Worst case, I can lose 26 games total. Chances are, I'll do better than that...UCLA and Texas gave me quite a scare last night.
We got to go out to lunch today, bought some light fixtures and paint to fix up the crib, went downtown to see THE NEW BUSCH STADIUM.
It is going to be very different. I still loved the architecture of the old stadium. In its heyday, it was state of the art, with the continuous arched roof to match the Arch down on the riverfront.
The new ballyard will be more open, and hopefully more fan friendly. It would be like a furnace on some nights at the old place, and at a day game, you just couldn't sit in the sun.....
Casey Stengel, at the first All-Star game played there, was asked what he thought about the new stadium.
"Well, it holds the heat well", he said, in his own inimitable style.
The new park will feature open areas in the outfield, with more straight up seating. So we shall see.
Of course, the only way I'll go is if someone gives me a free ticket. Prices were increased again. Can you imagine that......
And ticket brokers have bought up a ton of ducats, to sell at premium prices. Sounds like a legalized form of scalping, if you ask me.
Opening day is April 10....
Go Redbirds!!

SPRING BREAK MADNESS

2006-03-20T19:37:00.000-08:00

Well, today I start spring break. Sunday we had a great party for my daughters little Petey's first birthday, and everyone had a nice time. He is a sweetheart.
The wife and I had lots of plans for this week....lunches, maybe some painting and spucing up the homestead, try some golf, go downtown.....alas, she comes down with an infection, sick all night, ER all day....poor darlin' was so sick.
Doing well now, thank God.
So much for plans.
*********
As luck would have it, tomorrow we may get the first significant snowy morning on a day when I already have the day off. It doesn't count as a snow day if its in spring break.
Waste of good bad weather.
*********
How are your March Madness brackets coming along? With all the upsets and Cinderella teams, most peoples are probably pretty messed up. I won't know how I'm doing until we get back to school next week. I won the pool last year....pure luck, I know....still, hope is in the air, just like that desperation three-pointer at the buzzer.
Just read the book "Hoop Dreams" about two Chicago kids from the Cabrini neighborhood who make it out of poverty to college hoop success going very different routes....makes me look at the kids on the court in a deeper way, wondering how they got to where they are, what their personal stories are...how much struggle they have in their lives.....how many will go on to future hoop success....
Very few will make the big paydays of the NBA, but some go on to play in Europe or other pro leagues. Still, for most, their college career is all they have.
Hope they get that degree.
By the way.......I got UCLA winning it all.

READERS CORNER

2006-03-14T15:08:00.000-08:00

Here is the latest column from the Suburban Journals of St. Louis. More on this theme in days to come.

(How is your Lent coming along?)
**********************************************

March, 2006

When we come to the point in our lives when we are called “middle aged,” so many factors come into play. In the past, I’ve touched on some of these, such as being in the “sandwich generation”, seeing kids growing up, some still at home, and elderly parents in a state of decline. The stressors of this time in our lives can be very real.
So on a serious note, I wanted to mention something about mid-life crisis.
It can be something more than wanting a new car, changing jobs, or trying to run to the mailbox without getting winded. For women, menopause is a real physical phenomenon, carrying along with it many emotional side effects. It has been well-documented, fairly well-treated, and is becoming better understood as more and more women are entering that phase of life.
A less-well documented and treated issue is the condition of male menopause.
Men from the ages of 40 to 60 can find themselves coming into life situations that may take a toll on them, even if they are not knowing it or acknowledging it.
Coming to the middle of life knowing that they may not be rich like they thought they would be by now, having a failed or less than fulfilling marriage, coming to the end of their working lives, facing retirement years and wondering if they will have enough money to make it for the next 20 years or so. The loss of youthful vigor, so closely connected to “maleness”. Troubles with children. Will I be healthy enough to enjoy my “golden years”, and not be Grampa Crabby at family gatherings?
These are only a few of the many things that can affect a man as he heads into mid-life.
Recent studies show that about 40% of all men in the 40 to 60 age range fall into some level of depression. The problem with this is that many men deny this, under the need to “be strong, fight through it, it’s just a phase.” Hey, Dr. Phil says we need to just “get over it”.
This needs to change.
Unfortunately, when we say “mental health”, we are conditioned in our society to think “crazy”. This can put road blocks in the way of people who would otherwise seek help. Why is it okay to take of one’s own physical health with diets and workout plans, golf and jogging, but when it comes to the health of the emotions, which so much controls the physical, it has to be done quietly, or not at all?
We see anxiety and depression in children, in teens, in young adults, in senior citizens. Why is it any surprise that it exists in middle-agers as well? Sure we may have more money than ever, be finally seeing our kids growing up to be great adults, have met some levels of success in our chosen careers. But sometimes life’s crazy twists can hit us in a different way, knock us for a loop, when we least expect it.
So it should be no less right to take the steps to improve your emotional well-being than to drop 15 pounds if you’re overweight. No less okay to talk to a professional counselor to help you over life’s humps than to workout 4 days a week for 30 minutes to improve your cholesterol and blood pressure.
Sometimes it takes more than putting a smile on your face, or crossing over to the sunny side of the street. More than prayer and acceptance and forgiveness, all good elements in the plan for emotional healing, but not the whole thing.
Sometimes it takes pro to help you get through it all.
So, seek help where it may be found. Use your employee assistance program, see a clergyman, contact family services available through religious and public agencies.
Don’t be afraid to get the help you need. For the sake of your loved ones. For your own sake.
Hard as it may be to take this step, it may be the most important one you take in your

WHEW!!!!!!

2006-03-13T17:17:00.000-08:00

We just were missed by the massive weather system that came through the midwest this weekend.....thanks be to God for sparing us....but may He also give strength and courage to those who lost loved ones, property and their livelihoods. It is amazing what water, wind and hail can do to change lives.
Just another example of...you never know.

THE MANY FORMS OF LOVE.....

2006-03-04T19:13:00.000-08:00

You may know a precocious little one......... one of your own, a friends, a grandchild. Here is a short piece about one whom I have the privelege of knowing.

**************************

CLARA’S COOKIES

Little Clara loved the park. It was just down the block from her new house, a bungalow on the north side. It wasn’t a very big park, but it had swings and birdies, and that was what Clara liked. Plus, the train that brought her daddy home from work every day came right by the park. So Clara and her mommy would wait there for the big train to roll by. Then she and mommy would walk home with her daddy.

Clara was little, but she was very smart. One day when she and her daddy walked to the park, Clara didn’t want to swing. She didn’t want to watch the birdies. And she didn’t want to wait for the train. She wanted to keep walking. Her daddy was not sure just where his daughter wanted to go. He was with her today because her mommy had just had a new baby, a brother named Peter. So daddy was staying home to help out, and to take Clara to the park.
Well, Clara had her mind made up that they were going to keep walking. So daddy held her tiny hand (she was almost two years old, but she was very petite) and they continued to walk. They went to the end of the path in the park. Then they went on to the sidewalk. Then, to daddy’s surprise, they continued up the small hill and over the train tracks!

Daddy was smiling, wondering where in the world his little child in her pink coat and pink hat with the tassels and ear flaps was taking him.

Down the short hill and into the downtown area, past the newspaper stand and turning onto the main street they went.
Clara stopped, and daddy looked down. Her shoe needed to be tied. So he tied her shoe, and then they continued to walk along the downtown sidewalk.
Clara was looking into the windows of the shops as they passed them.
Finally, she stopped outside one of the shops. It was the bakery that she and her parents had taken her to before.
So this is where she wanted to go, thought an amazed daddy!
Inside the shop, as daddy bought coffee and some donuts, the gentle lady behind the counter gave Clara three cookies for free.
And just like that, Clara reached up for her daddy’s hand. Holding the precious bag of cookies, they made their way back home. Past the newspaper stand, up the small hill, over the train tracks, and through the park her little legs went with a purpose. Daddy realized then and there that here was a person who made up her mind and did something about it.

A lot like her mommy, he mused.

When they came home, and she had taken off her pink coat and pink hat with the tassels on it, Clara took her bag of cookies to her mommy.
She carefully opened the bag. Reaching in, Clara handed one to her mommy.

Then, to the surprise of both her parents, she offered the next cookie to her new baby brother, nestled in her mommy’s arms.

Petey, being only a week old, couldn’t enjoy the generous gift of his big sister. But as sure as it is that this story will be told to him many times over, that is how sure we are that love comes in many forms.

Sometimes it's just the simple sharing of a cookie.

PHAT TOOS DAY.....

2006-02-28T14:12:00.000-08:00

Thought I'd put something up that fits with the last day of Black History Month. Tomorrow also starts the season of Lent. Somehow, these words seem to fit like a span to bridge the two. Hope yours is going to be one of dreams contemplated and prayer for a more peaceful world, internal as well as external.

(from the Fall of 2004)

With all due respect to Dr. Martin Luther King, whom I admire as one of the most influential people of the 20th century, I would like to present my own set of dreams for consideration. I in no way claim the position he held as a purveyor of peace and justice. I am simply a citizen of the U.S.A. But I feel, as he must have, seriously unrepresented by the major political parties of our country. During every campaign, I see again and again that I can’t call myself Republican or Democrat, liberal or conservative. There is certainly something in each party that I like, but there is also enough about each that I cannot tolerate. And I am fairly sure that there are a lot of us out here who feel this way.
So it is with this in mind that I say...........

I have a dream. That unborn life will once again become the foremost right, by virtue of the eventual overturning of that misguided and ill-fated decision, Roe vs. Wade. The abomination of abortion has been like an open sore on the soul and psyche of our nation for far too long. No people can claim to be operating “under God”, and have this practice seen as legal. We have a stain on our collective soul for this dark period in our history. I am not so naive to think that abortions will end completely, but I can dream that they will. And I can’t help but dream that with this change would come a healing, and a new focus. Not to mention the blessing of God returning to our country.

I have a dream. That people who are truly in need, like single mothers with young children, developmentally and emotionally disabled people, and poor and elderly citizens will get the support, care and assistance they require, simply by virtue of their need. Every day we see this program being cut and that budget being slashed when it comes to taking care of the people who can least take care of themselves. We have always been a government of the people. All the people. And not just those who contribute to the GNP.

I have a dream. That as our domestic economic policy continues to offer incentives to business, it also continues to recognize the rights of people to organize and bargain. Having been on both sides of this labor fence, I know that the job of management is to get the most out of the work force at the least cost, and that the role of the union is to protect the rights of the worker for a fair wage and safe conditions. I have always hated the switch from the term “personnel” to “human resources.” Somehow it put the working man and woman on the same plane as a box of nails. The dignity of the worker has been diminished. It seems that recent years have seen a decline in the influence of the union. History has shown that without an advocate, workers lose. A strong union presence is essential to an equitable free enterprise system. There is no reason this cannot always be a win-win proposition.

I have still another dream. That we will continue to be the greatest power in the free world, but still remember that we can’t always save that world. World terror has changed the face and focus of our lives forever. We cannot afford to be isolationist in an ever-shrinking world. But neither can we always solve everyone’s problems. It is true we have always been the guys who cared. Sent money, food, medical supplies, troops. But this hasn’t always worked out the way we wanted. Take a look at Africa. Or Korea. Or Vietnam. And as much as the recent historic elections in Iraq have made any right-thinking American stand in awe at the courage of the Iraqi people, the jury is still out on that venture. There is the feeling that, even if sometimes we really do need to save the world, maybe somebody else needs to step up once in a while, too. Freedom does not come cheap, I know, but why is it always our guys who pay the greatest price?

Speaking of dreams, what has become of Dr. King’s? In the 40 or so years since his famous speech, can it be said that progress has been made? I’d have to give this a qualified “yes”. More and more, people are being judged by the content of their character rather than the color of their skin. My kids have gone to school with and played with kids of other races. A lot of blood, sweat and tons of tears have brought about the laws that have helped this to come about, but I believe hearts are changing as well. In our own St. Louis region, we have growing, diverse cultures. Our people are not free of prejudice, but it is a “work in progress.” That in itself is partial fulfillment of King’s dream, voiced decades ago.

It has been said to never let go of your dreams. Langston Hughes wrote that a dream deferred can dry up “like a raisin in the sun.” So I’d like to thank Dr. King for his dreaming, and for his call to “let freedom ring” in this great country of ours.

I just hope that someday I can hear that ring come from a national party that represents my dreams, rather than perrenially get stuck picking and choosing from the menu offered by the two biggest players at the table.

Now that would be a dream fulfilled.

READERS CORNER

2006-02-20T11:09:00.000-08:00

Here is a column that I got a lot of response to.
Hope it strikes a chord.
*********************

The concept of talent is something I think about a lot. It mystifies me how some people can become brain surgeons, and others carpenters, and still others physicists and musicians and oceanographers. I mean, just where do these gifts come from? What genetic forces are at work that can spawn a virtuoso violinist from the union of two tone-deaf people? And when you see people with tremendous athletic ability, don’t you just wonder what their moms and dads were like in their youth? And how about someone who grew up in Kansas deciding to study the deep blue seas?
When I think of talents as gifts, it reminds me of the Bible story where the master gives the servants talents and sends them on their way. Some use them wisely, gaining more talents, some hoard them, and at least one guy squanders his. Any parent can attest to the hope that their children will use their talents well. We all encourage our offspring to try new things, to practice hard, to give their best. For who really knows if the little booger is a dancer or flutist or potential World Cup goal-scorer?

Which, in a round-about way, brings me to the talents of yours truly. I can’t really play the guitar, in spite of having one for almost 20 years. My high school physics teacher gave me a “D” in my senior year so I could graduate with my class. (I pulled a whopping 32%!) Thankfully, Jill pays the bills and balances the checkbook, keeping us both out of debtor’s prison. And me and tools never have been become all that well acquainted.
I guess there are just some of us who are consistently average. Oh, I changed a part on the washer last year and the basement still hasn’t flooded. I can handle a few things around the house, like light bulbs. But when it comes to anything that has a potential of breaking at 70 miles per hour, or producing serious electrical shock, well, there is a reason that the yellow pages is full of professionals.
I do have some unique skills. Nothing that anybody would pay good money for, but valuable nonetheless. There’s my world class ability to nap just about anywhere, anytime. I somehow have gathered a vast storehouse of useless information that keeps my kids forever groaning. I can do a dead-on impression of a geek, with glasses over the ears, pants hiked up, the whole mess. Always good for a giggle.
So I say, so what if I will never fix a brain, discover a new species of platypus, or solve a quadratic equation. Or even replace an electrical outlet. I just have to do the best with what I’ve got, like the vast majority of us.
After all, being exceptionally ordinary may be a gift in itself.

"AND THE ANSWER IS...."

2006-02-19T09:29:00.000-08:00

I needed to take a look at where I was headed with this site. So I backed off for awhile. Thought about how I would link, what I would write about.
I have decided to only link to positive sites. Too many of those I have been reading are very negative, angry and in some cases uncharitable. I have the option to not read these, of course, but I also have the obligation not to offer them as links.
It is in no way a statement on the quality of their messages, or the passion and sincerity of those persons. They are choosing to follow their hearts. Who am I to judge?
Consider it a change in direction.

I just think that the change will do me good.
You too, I hope.

A GOOD IDEA

2006-02-15T18:41:00.000-08:00

rdl from "when I grow up" suggested I post some of my past columns. Thanks for the vote of confidence, and the idea. So here is one from February 2005.

In the course of talking to people, I have come to the not-so-surprising conclusion that we are more alike than different. Yeah, some have blue eyes, some brown, some straight hair, some curly, and some of us are follicley- challenged. We come in various shades and hues, lengths and girths, and speak in a vast variety of ways.
But there are some universal experiences and reactions that make put us in the same boat on this voyage of life.
Awhile back, a comedian made a big hit with the use of a line after a statement….”you just might be a redneck.” So borrowing on that phrase, I’d like to offer just a few thoughts that “If you (fill in the blank), you just might be normal.”
If you’ve ever reached down into the cushions of your couch and found an M&M… and ate it…..you just might be normal.
If you’ve ever tried to rearrange the insides of your nostrils while waiting at a stop sign, and glanced over at the car next to you to see the driver grinning at you….you just might be normal.
If you’ve ever come back from the mailbox smugly thinking you must be quite popular, only to find most of the mail headed to the recycling bin and the rest to the “bills to pay” folder, you just might be normal.
If you’ve ever come home from little Johnny or Janies’s soccer game, and come to the realization that, no, the college scholarship is NOT in their future……you guessed it, you just might be normal.
It really is no crime to be normal. It beats abnormal. Or dysfunctional. Take solace in that. So don’t be ashamed if…
You ever have accidentally nodded off in the armchair while watching the 9:00 news.
You have driven like crazy, violating at least 12 traffic laws, to get to a kids tournament basketball game, dropped the kid off at the door, and raced into the gym, only to find that the game ahead of you has just ended the first period.
You’ve tripped over absolutely nothing, and then done that little skip like you meant to do that, thank you very much.
You once fell asleep with your arm over your head, dreamt that you had a horrible industrial accident, bolted awake and freaked out because you could neither see nor feel your still-sleeping right limb. (well, maybe I’m the only one who has done that).
Maybe you have had that, shall we say, “blemish” so big it had its own zip code, and you’re long past puberty.
Or walked off the elevator on the wrong floor, gone all the way down the hall to the office you thought was yours, only to open the door, look around and quietly back out.
If you’ve ever found your wife’s car keys in you coat pocket, after already pulling into your own parking lot, and had to make THAT phone call home…..you just might be normal.
If you’ve ever…done the “left, right, left shuffle” with somebody in a hallway…bumped your head on the doorjamb of your car…got so sick that the toilet and the trashcan were required at the same time……threatened to quit your job, 3 times in the same week….refinanced your home mortgage to pay off those charges, only to find those same charges mysteriously rise once again…wondered what in the world your teenaged son or daughter sees in someone else’s teenage daughter or son…..well, then, you just might be normal.
To misquote old Forrest Gump, “normal is as normal does”. It takes shared experiences to see our humanity. It’s this world’s trips and stumbles that keep us honest.
So take heart, friends and keep that stiff upper lip. Just hope nobody sees that hunk of mayonnaise hanging off the end of it.

SABBATICAL

2006-02-13T19:58:00.000-08:00

I haven't been able to put much down lately....illness, family members from out of town....so I need to take a short time out and refocus on what I want to do with this space.... how I want to proceed.
Be gone for awhile.
Until then...........
Peace.

THE PLACE BETWEEN HERE AND THERE

2006-02-07T20:04:00.000-08:00

What is your take on purgatory? Is it real? Based on scripture?
Me, it think it is like a metaphysical "time-out" where our soul goes to make that awful wait until we get into the Pearlies....you know, we weren't so danged awful bad on earth to deserve the H-bomb....but sure as shootin' we weren't no angels either...so we do NOT get a "Pass Go and collect $200 heavenly bucks for expenses" once we shuffle off this ole mortal coil.
Gotta pay the piper for our stupidity and hubris and thinking we knew more than the Big Guy.
So, there we sit, seeing St. Peteys open door policy for those who have served their time, but knowing we are not worthy just about yet, and it is painful...not as painful as sitting on the front stove burner, but not nearly as great as meeting the Lord.
Still, we know we snuck in the doggy door when the Gatekeeper wasn't lookin', and every dog has his day, so ...that has to count for something.
I also really do not think those who die get right in, like the eulogists are wont to say at funerals....not even saints.... they have some down time too...a lot of them were some first class sinners in their day....why else would we pray for the dead, except to get the Boss to go easy on them..?
So.....What do you think?

I know I'll be pleased as punch to get my big toe in the back porch door....

Once you're in, your're in, baby.

STILLERS BY 3

2006-02-04T13:14:00.000-08:00

Since everybody but Bob's uncle are making predictions, here go minz.....
1. In spite of a great game by Hasselbach and Anderson for the NFC champs, the Boys Of Steel will ride The Bus home to their first win since who the heck cares when....
2. I will eat way too much chili, much to the dismay of my co-watchers, drink a few, burp a lot, and probably take a nap at half-time, since I never could get into the Stones. (Recall, I can sleep anywhere, anytime.)
3. Wifey, sisters and friends will have a girly day at one of the sissys homes, and will laugh, cry, eat baked chicken, drink wine, cry, laugh, look at old pictures, laugh, cry, kill the rest of the wine, and have a "crunk" of a time without the dudes, who are basically boring drunks anyway.
4. Call-ins Monday will continue to plague the American workplace, and Osama B. Laden will denounce us as infidels. Not even "W" will respond to this idi-ote, as he will also call in sick to the WH.
5. The local sports world finally will begin to pu it's focus where it belongs.......THE CARDINALS!

Enjoy the game....half time should have been Motown totally, but $ screwed with the DE troit minds.
(Bob's uncle just called....he's got "Hawks by 5"....)

PRODIGAL RETURNS

2006-02-01T13:46:00.000-08:00

Been on retreat, then got sick with a good old sinus infection....lot of good retreat did me...(just kidding, God!)
Still, being ill sure does make one appreciate the small things, like standing up without feeling like your knees are goo, or not being constantly achey/dizzy/snotty/ hacky.
Everybody at work and most in our family have something. Could be attributed to the warmer than usual January we are having here in St. Louis. A long-time meteorologist said it ain't global warming, just the cycle of the earth. I tend to go along with that, but then, he missed the forecast the other day pretty badly. So who knows.

Saw George last night...some show. He do smirk a lot...mostly to the left side of the crowd on the floor...Did I see him wagging his finger at the bad little boys and girls of the Dems? That must have made old Hil want to get up and punch somebody...probably Bill....not that she needs a reason... she probably always wants to jack him a good one. Probably why he lives elsewhere. I'd put money on her in alley fight with the former Pres. She a mean one, that girl. Looking at her reminds me of the Wizard of Oz...no, not the movie, the actual Wizard! "Pay no attention to the 'woman' behind the curtain."
Then I heard John Kerry say today that "53% of our kids don't graduate from high school"...seems kinda high, doesn't it? Need to check that one out.

ATTENTION JOURNAL and STLTODAY.COM READERS!

2006-02-01T13:30:00.000-08:00

Welcome to any readers of the Journal and STLtoday.com....here is a quick tour of the site...not much to it...you can read any past postings by going to "Archives" on the right, find some interesting writers by clicking on any of the "Links", and see interesting stuff on the ads boxes....also, you can go to "Google" by way of the box at the top. So check my site out, and then "Google" something after that. Talk about fun!!!! And if you visit, let me know, by clicking on the
"Comments" spot at the bottom of each post.
That's about it...thanks for checking it out.

SEE YOU IN A BIT

2006-01-26T18:24:00.000-08:00

I am going on retreat for the weekend. Hope to get in a lot of quiet time, and prayer, and hear some good stuff from the Jesuits. They have great food, too. It is held at the White House Retreat Center in what used to be rural St. Louis County. Old white stone buildings give it the name, built on a wooded bluff above the Mississippi River.
Idyllic...
My fourth time there....Pray for me and I will return the favor.

Here I will leave something I wrote about 10 years ago.
Kinda wintery in tone.

REFLECTIONS
The trees and roads and hills were liberally dusted with the first fresh fall of the season. Here and there, a squirrel moved its way tentatively toward somewhere it instinctively knew meant food. Sound was at a minimum, except for the faint low hum of the wind. As the day ran on, everything took on a steely gray hue.

The man viewed this scene from the second story bedroom window. His breath steamed the panes briefly, as brief was the best his breathing could do these days. Light from the desk lamp caused a reflection of someone he once knew. Or thought he knew, at least. Who are you anyway, he wondered as he gazed at the face in the window.

And what of this face? Cheeks a bit sunken, a fringe of a mustache, gray and white specks on the chin. A strong chin it was, with a deep vertical dent in the center. A genetically defining dent, one shared by most of his descendants. The eyes, pale blue, were surrounded by folds of skin and rutted lines extending from the outer corners into the cheeks. As for hair, or lack of such, the steady retreat begun in his forties was now virtually at an end, leaving only whitish tufts above the ears. It seemed some of the fallen follicles had taken root on the ridges above the eyes, and even on and around the ears. With a wry grin, the man recalled telling his youngest now a lovely woman in her own right, how “going bald was okay”, because the hair wasn’t really gone, it just fell on his back and shoulders and grew there. He was just keeping it there for now. And it made him smile to remember that this story was good enough for her then.

Funny, too, how the face looking back was so like his fathers, and even his fathers’ fathers’. How much, he mused, did this repeat? Did his great grandfather look the same? Would one of his sons? How far back, how much forward? It was a warm feeling of rootedness that these thoughts brought, even in the viewing of a life in decline.

So. There he was. The same, yet not the same. Still, in that reflection was the curly headed boy who played at sports with abandon, had some moderate success in prep and college, and came of age in a time of his countrys’ vast confusion over a foreign war, and a moral decline to match the Romans. This boy-to-man had the blessed fortune to encounter a woman four years his junior, who was to provide the love and meaning to his life for over half a century, who would bear their six children and with him see them grow and struggle and fight and rejoice their way through the plus and minus of their own lives.

She was “My North, my South, my East and West, my working week and my Sunday rest”, as the Irish poet W. H. Auden put it. “I thought love would last forever. I was wrong.”

Well, it turns out Auden was wrong....the love lasted, but the earthen vessel that bore her tremendous spirit failed all to soon. It was almost understood between them that he would be the first to go. Not that either of them had any pre-knowledge...it was just a feeling. But it was in a time very like today that she took her leave. Mercifully short and remarkably almost painless, her demise was handled much the same way she went through life.....with great love and humor, and more thought of others than herself. In testimonial to her deep faith, it was remarked that all who had seen her smile now had a special emissary in the hereafter, to help pave their way. And if her earthly will and love had the same heavenly force, then her blessings would continue to reach out until we all met up again.

A rush of melting snow falling past the window roused the man from his remembrance. He seemed to spend more and more of his time there, in the past. It was known, and it was for the most part pleasant, and she was there. So he easily drifted back to her, and the smile. It was the first thing he saw, the feature most attracting. Through the years, it always humbled him, to know she was with him, and that he probably got more of those smiles than anyone else. It was a gift of God, that smile, and one she gave away freely and generously. Others envied it, he knew, although they never said. And it was to his great joy that their children possessed that gift, each and everyone. It would always set them apart as beautiful.

The face in the reflection also had a smile now. Oh, it wasn’t like hers, but it showed promise,. For, down below into the street spilled loads of descendants, the real reason he continued to hold on since she left. They would come, and eat, and drink, and yell, and laugh..... and cry. They would linger, and then be gone.

But their stay would always give him more fuel for the fire, until his burned down for good, and the ash fluttered up, and they were together again.

A PRO-LIFE HAIKU

2006-01-24T16:00:00.000-08:00

FORTY-SIX MILLION
DEAD BABIES, NEVER A CHANCE
TO SHOW US THEIR GIFTS

(thanks to lee strong for correcting my math.....t)

TAG, I'M IT.....

2006-01-23T14:34:00.000-08:00

Got this from angelmeg at Transcendental Musings. I don't normally do these, but this looked fun.
1. Before I go out the door, I make sure my zipper is up. (seriously....very important!)
2. I can't seem to catch up on my sleep. (can nap anytime...anywhere.)
3. The one surface that seems to get cluttered fast is my mind.
4. If I sleep past Tuesday, I feel like I've overslept, (although it makes for a short work week)
5. No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to make money in my sleep.
6. I hope to have my income taxes done by somebody who can get me max. refund and min. jail time.
7. This year, I would like to make more time for golf, guitar and dates with the lovely bride......(though not necessarilly in that order.)

No tags, but have at it if so inclined.

DESTINYS CHILDREN

2006-01-22T18:06:00.000-08:00

"I was going to be the first female President of the United States."
"I would have become a wife, and mother of four, with my oldest becoming a teacher."
"I would have died in a car accident on my 18th birthday, hit by a drunken driver."
"I was to have been that drunken driver."
"My destiny was to find the cure to cancer."
"I was to contract cancer in childhood, only to have it cured."
"My life would have been terrible, a victim of abuse, until I grew up and founded a home for abused and neglected children."
"I was to have been a child abuser, and later take my own life."
"I was going to be a carpenter."
"My life was going to be full of excitement, and love, and children of my own."

Just a few of the destinies of the more than 46,000,000 souls that never had a chance, to struggle, to laugh, to cry, to suffer, to find joy, to bring love to others.......to participate in this gift called life.

Roe v. Wade.....33 years and counting.

Ora pro nobis, and for all those who are victims.......the children, the women, the medical personnel.
May we see an end to this soon.

FIVE QUESTIONS

2006-01-19T18:40:00.000-08:00

In the interest of furthering the collective knowledge of our nation, and to allow for responses to some of the burning questions of our day, I would like to take the opportunity to offer for your viewing pleasure.....
"FIVE QUESTIONS"

1. Is Osama bin Ladin really a Bush administration stooge, existing only to give force and power to the administration's plans for global dominance, snooping, and just generally annoying liberals?
2. Wilson Pickett's "Midnight Hour" finally came, at age 64. What was your favorite, all-time Motown song?
3. Will "The Simpsons" ever be cancelled....I mean EVER?
4. Is there anyone out there who can step up and be a voice for Black Americans?
5. Considering "Brokeback Mountain", do you wonder even a little bit about Tonto and the Lone Ranger?

Consider carefully, and respond.

GOD BLESS THE CHILD

2006-01-18T18:50:00.000-08:00

We just returned from a baptism preparation session at the rectory. Jill and I do this on occasion. I never really know what to say before I talk at these times, but the little prayer we say before it always seems to help. So I just started talking......one of the couples had their gorgeous little 8 week old daughter there...she inspired me.
I mentioned that when John baptized Jesus, he then stepped back, and Jesus was the focus. In the same way, a parent needs to step back from their self, making the child the focus of their life. Maybe not very original or profound, but definitely true.
I also have been reading the Bible lately, and came across the part where Abraham blesses his sons. A priest once told me that a father's blessing is very powerful, coming from all the way back to the Old Bible guys. So I mentioned to the dad tonight that he can simply pass this on by making the sign of the cross on his daughters forehead.
Heck, I bless my kids cars when they take off for college or Chicago, or just a couple miles away. I sneak up on them and bless them on their shoulder without them even knowing it, or when they are sleeping.
Don't pass up the chance, mom and dad. Never know when you may get another one.

HAPPY B-DAY DR. K.

2006-01-16T12:22:00.000-08:00

This being a holiday, and me being a teacher adds up to me being on the golf course today. Played the par 3, using only my Precept 7 wood, 7-iron, sand wedge and putter. The putter is "cock" as my brother-in-law Jackie would say, using a slang phrase from our youth that used to drive my mom up the wall. It is a mallet head, cherry wood, from the same company that makes baseball bats, Louisville. Jill gave it to me on my birthday four years ago. Actually, she asked me what I wanted and I said a putter that costs $100 bucks and she said I was nuts but I got it anyway.
Yeah, she spoils me.
Golf really is a strange game. You can look great, with the logo hats and the shoes and top equipment, but if your swing smells like butt cheese, fuggedaboutit. I decided to put to use the tips I got from a range jockey (my name for the guy who hangs out on the practice tees, giving out advice, whether you want it or not. Something I aspire to...), and use my new grip. And keep the head down, for Jimminy-Crickets sakes.
So here I was, the course almost empty, which is how I love it.... playing "Three-Ball Tommy " (a fancy name for cheating) where I play my first ball for the score on the hole, and take two more shots each time. Hey, Tiger and Phil do it all the time, and they get paid for it....it's called a "practice round.
Well, I did ok for the first time out. 7 over, with no birdies and one double booger.
No complaints here....I was out!
But maybe the best part was that, after the ninth, I wandered into the woods and found 15 balls. 15!! So I was up plus 11 on ball count for the day. Felt like a kid at a private Easter egg hunt.
Tomorrow their calling for snow.
Happy Birthday, Dr. King!

THOUGHTS ON MLK DAY

2006-01-15T15:23:00.000-08:00

A noted British historian named C.V Wedgewood said:
"History is lived forward but written in retrospect. We know the end before we consider the beginning, and we can never wholly recapture what it was to know the beginning only."
I always thought that Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" speech was a courageous attempt at delineating what our future could be. We know how he ended, but at the beginning, man, he sure did spell it out. No matter what you think of him now, it would hard to deny that he moved us forward. I take inspiration from his words.
A few years ago, I wrote a column for The Suburban Journal. Here it is.

IT’S TIME TO CHANGE OUR HEARTS

When it comes to the matter of race, strong opinions abound. Words like racism, prejudice, and discrimination bring up the heat on one side, as much as double standards, affirmative action and quotas do on the other. It seems to be a fact of life in our society that the color of a persons skin has a great deal to do with their experiences growing up, where they live, who they hang out with, who they marry, who they support in politics.....how they live their lives in general. But why is it that ones color or the look of their eyes causes such things to be so?

Historically, non-whites have been a put-upon underclass worldwide, but more specifically in our country. This includes African-American, Hispanic, Asian and Native American. Greater access to higher education and aggressive government programs have helped change this over the past 40 years, to some degree. But this change has been slow and not without serious effort and cost. And increasingly we see this wariness and mistreatment toward many people of Middle Eastern descent.

“That’s just the way it is....some things will never change” goes the refrain of a recently popular song. But is this really the way we want our world to continue to operate?

I believe most of us are honest people, or at least try to be. So a question that might be asked now is: Who among us, of any race, can say they have not at least once used an ethnic slur, told a racial joke, or said something unkind about someone you don’t even know just because of the way they look? If you are one of these people, I applaud you. You are a far better person than I. However I would hazard a guess that there may be only a few of you out there.

So why do we act like this? In the larger world, we see Palestinians against Jews, Muslims at odds with Hindus, Sunnis versus Kurds. Some groups of students at Howard University reportedly cheered when O.J. was acquitted, some whites still feel that they are genetically superior to everyone else. At this rate, will we ever get to the point that Rev. Martin Luther King dreamed of, that the sons of slave owners and the sons of slaves would some day play together in harmony, and be judged by the content of their character rather than the color of their skin?

Well, I have to think it will. Here in North St. Louis County we have probably the greatest mix of people in the whole region. I teach school in a north county public school where kids of all races do get along, eat lunch together, and play sports together. They may not always socialize together but they seem to peacefully co-exist. Kids in my neighborhood and others I hear of get along together. It can be done. They do it every day. It may not be perfect, but they seem to be at least trying.

Mark Twain said, ”Loyalty to petrified opinion never broke a chain or freed a human soul----and never will.”
Opinions can change. Our opinion many times comes from what we have been taught, but ultimately it comes from our hearts. And human beings hearts can change. But it takes effort. If we can change our hearts and our opinions, we may be able to subsequently alter our actions. Ultimately, it will take each of us, in our own way and our own time, to change our hearts.

Back when he was in the news, Rodney King said something that was quite profound. When turmoil and rioting surrounded the acquittal of those who beat him, he issued a universal appeal.

“Can’t we all just get along?” he said.

Is it possible that it really is just that simple?

Can’t we all just get along?

Maybe it’s not too late for this generation to get it right. But the hope is that future generations will find the right answer to that question, and in answering, fulfill Rev. Kings dream.

JP II WE STILL LOVE YOU

2006-01-12T18:40:00.000-08:00

My wife gave me the book "John Paul the Great" by Peggy Noonan for my birthday... so far, it is very compelling reading. Awhile back I did an article for the Community News of St. Louis, and I am posting it here. I wrote it shortly after his death this past year.
This guy will probably be a saint in my lifetime, and most likely deservedly so. He sure was the right guy for the job at the time.

A BROTHER OF THE PEOPLES: KAROL WOJTYLA
A great upset was in the making in the fall of 1978. The leaders of one of the oldest religions were gathered to choose their new leader. Again. They were still numb from the shock of the untimely death of one of their brothers whom they had just elevated to the highest position only two months previous. It was in this unprecedented atmosphere that Karol Wojtyla, the cardinal prelate from Poland, became the first Slavic pope, and the first non-Italian to be named to the pontificate in 455 years.
The whole world, but especially the Catholic world, was in for quite an experience.
Much has been written about the effect of the papacy of Pope John Paul II. He was so influential during his 26 year run that he is now being heralded by some as “The Great”, a designation given only to two other successors of Peter. For many, this man was the only pope they had known. With his travels, his reaching out to all religions and peoples, he changed the perception of “The Pope” for millions of people. But this can all be chronicled elsewhere, far better than I.
What will be shared here is a lesser known story that serves to point up the power that this one man wielded, as he went about his business as archbishop of Krakow during the years of communist domination of Eastern Europe. It is a story of the strength of will, almost prophetic in nature, a sign of even greater things to come.
The year was 1952. The Soviets had political power over Poland as a result of the post-World War II agreement between Joseph Stalin, Winston Churchill and Harry Truman. They wanted to make a statement, to create a monument of sorts to their ideology. So on the outskirts of Krakow, they constructed an industrial city. It was built with their latest technology, to showcase the greatness that, they said, was communism. The enormous Lenin Steelworks was the keystone, along with “efficient” apartment complexes that would house some of the over 27,000 workers who toiled there in its peak. It was called Nova Huta, and it was to be the crown jewel of the “new order” in Eastern Europe.
But this city was unusual in a way that no other new city ever had been. In keeping with the Soviet atheistic philosophy, this town was built without a church. Not one single church of any kind.
This did not set well with Karol Wojtyla, then archbishop of Krakow.
During the next decade, along with Poland’s Cardinal Stefan Wyszynski, the future pope kept up a relentless pressure on the communist authorities to allow him to have free and non-violent assemblies. The dictatorship held fast, however. They did allow the assemblies but a church was out of the question.
For 12 years, the man from Wadowice said Christmas Mass in an open field, clearly in defiance of the dictates against it. He even had a cross erected on the site.
Through sheer force of will and courage in the face of death, Karol Wojtyla led his people thorough those God-less years.
And the people of Nova Huta eventually got their church.
By virtue of his leadership, the power of the people, the Catholic Church became the only independent authority in communist Eastern Europe. This success helped to embolden the Solidarity labor movement, and eventually, many historians say, led to the eventual collapse of communism in Europe.
Maybe Karol Wojtyla was just merely the right guy in the right place at precisely the right time.
But maybe it was something more.
The Polish poet Juliusz Slowacki may have known this man would come to the forefront of world events. In a poem written more than a century before that October day in 1978, he said:
Amidst all the discord,
God sets an immense bell ringing,
He opens the throne to a Slavic Pope….
Much energy is needed to rebuild the Lord’s world;
and that is why a Slavic Pope is coming,
a brother of the peoples…
A brother of the peoples. All the peoples. His papal motto was “Totus Tuus”, “totally yours.” That was the essence of Karol Wojtyla.
We may never see the likes of him again.

GOTTA GET OUT SOON!

2006-01-11T14:10:00.000-08:00

Over the last few years, I have developed a "jones" for golf. Not that I play all that much, but I sure do want to play a lot. I used to think it was the Game of Wusses, for people who couldn't do anything else. And for me, that was true, since the old knees and ankles are such that I couldn't run 10 feet to save my life. And I mean that literally, as well as figuratively. The biggest, baddest, butcher-knife-hacking mutha could be after me, and I'd just have to die.
Still, as I took up the game, I began to appreciate the skill, stamina and concentration required to do it well.
Now some folks out there talk about "what is a sport?"...and "what defines 'athlete'?" Is NASCAR a sport, or figure skating? How about golf? I know guys who can drive a Titliest into the next zipcode, but I would never call them an athlete. On the other hand, the game requires key components of athleticism, such as eye-hand coordintation, balance and rhythym, not to mention a combination of strength and finesse, to hit a round ball with a flat stick into a little bitty hole a couple of football fields away in under 5 swings.
So, I don't know.
What I do know is that I gotta get out soon. Lately, it's been either a lousy day and I have the time, or a great day and I am busy as all heck.
Anybody else chomping to tee it up?

JUST MESSIN'......

2006-01-09T17:49:00.000-08:00

I put some ads on the sidebar. I want to see what happens when I put some key words in this post. So here goes....Cardinals, Baby Boomer, grand kids, retirement, 401 K (so far, pretty boring, huh?) How about pro-life, the fires of hell, Los Feliz golf course in Los Angeles, where they rent clubs for a quarter and it cost $4 to play....it was the course where the losers from the movie "Swingers" played.....son Joe and I played when we went out there Thanksgiving of '04. Nice course for the price....and I chipped in on the 5th hole from at least, oh, probably 25 yards from the green.
Maybe I'll add Santa Monica and Governor Arnold....lets see what all this brings....
(just noticed that ad is also spelled add....no wonder English is so hard to learn for little kids!)

THEM BIBLE GUYS

2006-01-08T15:51:00.000-08:00

The only resolution I made for the new year was to read the Bible from start to finish. Never had, and always wanted to. So as I am going through it page by page, and interesting thing is happening. The book seems to be calling out to me, not in some spooky mystical sense, but definitely it is always on my mind. A good sign, that maybe I am on to something I am supposed to be doing.

One thing that hits me early on is that them Bible Guys sure did "get around". I mean they didn't call him Father Abraham for nuttin'. Lots of "laying with" and "begetting" going on by Isaac and Jacob and the sons of sons of sons. And dang, they even had the blessing of the Lord on them, telling them He would help them build a great nation. So they were just following orders, I guess.
It will be interesting to see just where this monogamy thing comes in, though.

Today, the number at the top of my profile changed to 57. But the best thing about the day is that my college daughter turned 21. So she can have her first drink!
Yeah, right. Legal, at least.

BACK OF THE LINE, AGAIN

2006-01-05T14:08:00.000-08:00

Just when I feel like I'm catching up, something comes along that knocks me to the back of the line.
I was the last brother in the family to get a microwave, a garage door opener, and a cell phone, and we have had satellite for only about a year. They would laugh at me, saying I needed to be dragged kicking and screaming into the 20th century. And this was in the 21st century.
Anyway, I was feeling pretty good about myself and my new techno-savvy, having figured out the cell phone (well, mostly), and working my way through the computer. However, I still call the 14 year old in for tech support now and then.
Then along shows up the Nano Ipod, and Blackberrys, and razor cell phones.
Back of the line, kiddo, they shout out to me, rudely.
I have to tell you, I am in awe of the people who think this stuff up. Then, I am in awe everytime I flip the toggle on the wall and a light comes on. And please don't get me started about the internal combustion engine.
So long live technology....I just hope I live long enough to figure some of it out.

BOOMERS TURN 60

2006-01-02T18:31:00.000-08:00

It was in the year 1946 that the first Baby Boomer was born. The term really didn't catch on at first, but it sure has grown. Some say to the point of nausea. There have been some stories about the first boomer being from the Missouri area, being born 1/2 second after midnight. But then, a lady in the Northeast got a lot of press recently as the first one, due to the time zone difference, born at 12:01. The guy in Missouri didn't make a big deal about it.
"Any one born even a few seconds after midnight has a birth certificate that says '12:01'," he said.
So the leading edge folks are heading into their 60's. And the tail-enders will hit 42 in '06.
If you take a life-span in todays actuarial table of 80 years old, that means this old world will be stuck with us until 2044.
Some say that, having been a hippie and a yuppie, and now an "abbie" ( aging baby boomer), we believe we are going to die before we get old.
Me? I'm just hoping for tomorrow.....

A PRAYER FOR THE NEW YEAR

2005-12-31T21:31:00.000-08:00

May the Lord bless you and keep you,
May He let His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you,
May the Lord look upon you with kindness, and grant you His peace.

A very insightful and extensive history of this prayer can be found at www.lesserweevil.blogspot

And as Jose Feliciano would say....Prospero Ano y Felicidad 2006