I guess next to college football I love politics as much as anything in the entertainment world. I can’t wait for the election cycles to roll around every two years and for things to get rolling. Having watched and studied this great American past-time for over 60 years I am beginning to have some questions about how we choose our leaders. For all these years I have just taken for granted that we try to choose leaders who will solve the problems that face us as a city, county, state or nation. I assumed the people we elect actually convene in their respective seats of power and address the problems of the times and handle the peoples business with the main focus being problem solving. I know I’m far from the sharpest knife in the drawer but I think I have finally discovered I have been wrong about this process all along. We don’t elect people to solve the problems; we elect them to identify the problem and to point it out to us on a frequent basis.
How many years have politicians pointed out the same problems that just continue to plague year after year. I know that long before Dr. Blake and Dr. Wilson closed their little hospitals in Haleyville where I grew up, politicians were telling us that we had a crisis in health care in the country. Jack Kelly ran for the state House of Representatives back in the 50’s talking about health care. Jack got elected and the only change in health care was that the State started paying for old folks to stay in nursing homes, one of which Jack owned. Every politician since ‘Uncle’ Ben Dodd has talked about crime being the downfall of our country but more people are being robbed and killed today than ever before. We’re not electing people to solve the problems, we are electing folks who figure out what we are the most afraid of and identify it to our conscious minds. Now this stuff is getting pretty deep for me but I'm on a roll so just hang with me.
Since the mid 70’s we have had a problem with foreign oil production. Every politician since Richard Nixon has raved on and on since those first long lines at the gas pumps about how we must free ourselves from the control of the Middle East. Has anyone done anything about the problem? At $4.00 per gallon I don’t think so. Do we continue to send the same or exact replicas back to office time after time? I think so.
We have got to take another approach to the way we elect our officials. In the House of Representatives we get a fresh shot every two years. If we send someone to Washington and we don’t see some change or at least read about or see our man nightly on the national news jumping up and down on the capital steps raising cane about the congress not doing anything then we should bring him or her home the next time the office is open for election. The same thing is true with our Senators. If the one we elect doesn’t draw some national attention for pulling a Jimmy Stewart (‘Mr. Smith Goes to Washington’) at least once a year fighting for real change and not to simply be a popular Senator we should furnish him a ticket home and let him go back to whatever he was doing before we elected him.
We don’t need this bunch running home two or three times a year, holding Town Meetings and telling us what all is wrong. If you took you car into a dealership’s service department and came back in three days only to hear that the transmission was bad and needed to be fixed you wouldn’t take that, so why do we continue to put us with the crap we get from our politicians.
Some famous French King or Queen once made the comment that all the royal family needed to do was to “feed them cake” when dealing with the people. Getting a new water line or some sewage treatment, or even a new football field, is not solving the real problems we face. We can hire someone to point out the problems, we need someone to fix those problems. A man or woman can stay in Montgomery or Washington forever the way it is now by just passing through every now and then and telling us what’s wrong and they are working on it, this isn’t rocket science. My Dad used to tell me that a person can just sharpen his ax for so long then he’s got to cut some wood. These monkeys have been sharpening long enough. Even a fat man like me can eat cake for just so long. Let’s find us some Mr. Smiths' and send them to Washington. The Press will try to make us believe they are ‘nuts’, but sometimes it takes a lot of ‘nuts’ to make a good pie.
Where is Jimmy Stewart when we need him? He stopped them from building that dam on the Boy Scouts campground.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
E-MAIL SCAMS
Over the weekend I conducted an experiment that convinced me to quit feeling guilty about deleting e-mails that asked me to forward the contents to friends in my contacts. I received an e-mail early Friday containing that very request. The e-mail had some nice poetry that pointed out a ‘house did not make a home, money did not make me rich’ and ‘puppies were just little bundles of love’ (all with the appropriate artwork). I was instructed to forward within 1 hour the correspondence contained to at least 20 close friends and relatives and that within 72 hours I would experience a windfall of good luck.
With regrets I picked 20 people that were either very close to me or that I did not care if I upset or looked like an idiot to. I even explained in my forwarding that I was sorry for the inconvenience but that I needed a load of good luck like a dead man needs a coffin and the recipients just needed to suck it up and take it this one last time. I was determined to monitor the results this time since I always have tended to forget to follow up in the past when I got and sent this type of garbage. Well now the results are in and I want to report my findings.
I played three rounds of golf in the following 72 hours and lost $2.50 the first round, $7.00 the second round and $18.50 the third round. It was a long holiday weekend and my wife Patsy suffered through the entire 3 days with a severe case of poison ivy. I tried to cook some pork chops on my green egg that turned out worse than the charcoal I used if I had elected to eat my cooking fuel. I did not see one grandchild except for my grandson Wallace and that for only 5 minutes. The strange little red light I had never seen started blinking on my truck while driving the block and a half from the golf course to my house added to the misery. I sent 20 of these damn e-mails and that’s my windfall of luck for the 72 hours of bliss I was promised. I have had better luck when I forwarded naked pictures of Oprah during the heavy years.
Not only was my luck stinking, I infected everyone around me with bad luck. Poor ole Patsy suffered all weekend with her poison ivy. George Faison, one of my golfing partners, played golf like ‘Gomer Pyle’ on Saturday and Monday when he played with me and shot a great 78 on Sunday playing on a strange course that he drove 100 miles to play. I turned my ‘A’ player into a twelve handicapper and I putted worse than my 9-month-old grandson. To top it off there was an article in the local paper telling about how my spiritual leader and Sunday School teacher had opened a bar with her husband. The paper even had a picture of her brazened above the centerfold standing in front of 15 wine bottles like she was a taster at Ernest and Julio’s guesthouse.
The e-mail thing does not work. All you are doing is sending along some nice poetry and pretty pictures to someone that probably does not have time to waste scrolling through the mess. I would feel better if I had sent something that was at least original. The drivel I sent had been around for years. Most of what it said was true but nothing new, a lot like all the political speeches we are hearing now. Maybe someone told Hillary that if she passed what she’s saying along she would have good luck. It didn’t work for me and it doesn’t look like it’s going to work for her.
In spite of all this I’m not discouraged. I just got an e-mail that tells me there is a guy in India holding $10,000,000 for me that was left after some bank got their numbers mixed up on some of their accounts. All I’ve got to do is respond to a Mr. Dr. Henue at ‘henue.WorldwideBank@yahoo.com’ and as soon as I send $750 to cover some immediate tax requirements they will transfer the $10,000,000 to my account. Now this is something I can rely on, not luck but just good fortune. I should have this wrapped up in a few days and then I’ll tell you about ‘good luck’.
With regrets I picked 20 people that were either very close to me or that I did not care if I upset or looked like an idiot to. I even explained in my forwarding that I was sorry for the inconvenience but that I needed a load of good luck like a dead man needs a coffin and the recipients just needed to suck it up and take it this one last time. I was determined to monitor the results this time since I always have tended to forget to follow up in the past when I got and sent this type of garbage. Well now the results are in and I want to report my findings.
I played three rounds of golf in the following 72 hours and lost $2.50 the first round, $7.00 the second round and $18.50 the third round. It was a long holiday weekend and my wife Patsy suffered through the entire 3 days with a severe case of poison ivy. I tried to cook some pork chops on my green egg that turned out worse than the charcoal I used if I had elected to eat my cooking fuel. I did not see one grandchild except for my grandson Wallace and that for only 5 minutes. The strange little red light I had never seen started blinking on my truck while driving the block and a half from the golf course to my house added to the misery. I sent 20 of these damn e-mails and that’s my windfall of luck for the 72 hours of bliss I was promised. I have had better luck when I forwarded naked pictures of Oprah during the heavy years.
Not only was my luck stinking, I infected everyone around me with bad luck. Poor ole Patsy suffered all weekend with her poison ivy. George Faison, one of my golfing partners, played golf like ‘Gomer Pyle’ on Saturday and Monday when he played with me and shot a great 78 on Sunday playing on a strange course that he drove 100 miles to play. I turned my ‘A’ player into a twelve handicapper and I putted worse than my 9-month-old grandson. To top it off there was an article in the local paper telling about how my spiritual leader and Sunday School teacher had opened a bar with her husband. The paper even had a picture of her brazened above the centerfold standing in front of 15 wine bottles like she was a taster at Ernest and Julio’s guesthouse.
The e-mail thing does not work. All you are doing is sending along some nice poetry and pretty pictures to someone that probably does not have time to waste scrolling through the mess. I would feel better if I had sent something that was at least original. The drivel I sent had been around for years. Most of what it said was true but nothing new, a lot like all the political speeches we are hearing now. Maybe someone told Hillary that if she passed what she’s saying along she would have good luck. It didn’t work for me and it doesn’t look like it’s going to work for her.
In spite of all this I’m not discouraged. I just got an e-mail that tells me there is a guy in India holding $10,000,000 for me that was left after some bank got their numbers mixed up on some of their accounts. All I’ve got to do is respond to a Mr. Dr. Henue at ‘henue.WorldwideBank@yahoo.com’ and as soon as I send $750 to cover some immediate tax requirements they will transfer the $10,000,000 to my account. Now this is something I can rely on, not luck but just good fortune. I should have this wrapped up in a few days and then I’ll tell you about ‘good luck’.
Friday, May 23, 2008
GIVE'EM HELL HARRY
I’ve really been thinking about all that transpired on President Bush’s trip to the desert lands last week. There he was, our answer to a 50’s style hero like John Wayne or Randolph Scott, standing before the Knesset assuring them of the United States protection of their land. I’m sure they all slept so much better that night. This is the same guy that turned several sleeping dogs into a raging pack of meat eaters all around the small Jewish state. This is the same guy that with the help of his faithful sidekick, ‘Halliburton Dick’, agitated and just generally pissed off the entire world surrounding Israel. Now he was assuring everyone wearing a yarmulke and worshiping on Saturday night of how he was going to protect them. Israel and the United States would have been better off electing Jack Black and Adam Sandler four years ago instead of these two. One is the son who could not get a job (Ronald Reagan’s words not mine) and the other is the illegitimate son of Darth Vader.
Where W. really missed it was during his visit to Saudi Arabia. The news media reported that during is visit with the royal family George, the leader of the free world, while kneeling before the King, pleaded for an increase in the production of oil by the Royal family. The King, after spitting grape seeds toward the royal goat, told George that after seeking the wisdom of his spiritual leader he had to decline any increase at this time. Going further he admitted he had a bet with one of his brothers that he could get the price of oil to $150 per barrel before July 4th and that beating his brother out of $1 was something he really enjoyed doing.
Now here’s where we really have a breakdown in leadership. I can just see this King, living with his family in a twenty billion dollar compound telling Harry Truman that same bad news. Old Harry, first would have never been kneeling, would have simply asked the King if he could borrow his cell phone for a minute. As soon as the King handed him the phone Harry would have called (having memorized the number earlier) the commander of our force stationed in Saudi Arabia right there in front of the old King.
“Hello Gen. Schwarzkopf” (now Harry would have known the General was retired but would have used the name to really scare the King) “how long do you think it would take you to get all the boys and equipment packed up to go home?” By this time the King would begin to fidget. Truman would continue, “Yea, I mean to get completely out of this God forsaken place as fast as we can.” It wouldn’t matter what the General was saying on the other end, Truman would just keep saying what he wanted the King to hear. “The King here says they can handle their security themselves from now on and I want to get our boys out of here before we cut the water melons on the 4th.” “You get them packed up as soon as you can and ya’ll call the Air Force to come get you, take everything with you, the King says they can get by just fine without any more of our weapons and material.” Old Harry would end it by saying “When ya’ll get back get your little wife to give Bess a call and ya’ll stop by the White House for supper one day.” With that little Harry Truman would take his leave of the King and head back to the airport for his flight back to Washington. Harry would be half way over the Atlantic before the King could speak. See the King had never thought about speaking Iranian or Syrian and had never made any plans to give up his gold plated Jacuzzi and Rolex for each day of the year. By the time he could pull his robe out of his butt he would be trying to get Harry on his ‘SkyPhone’ to let him know the price of oil was now $15 per barrel and that we could take a 3% discount if we paid within 10 days of delivery.
It’s not all that complicated. Whoever controls those governments is going to drill and sell oil, hell that’s all they got. If Iran overran the Royal family they would have to have a market for the same oil the Royal family was selling. The only place they could sell it would be in China, North America, Europe or India. The consumer always sets the prices in an open market and the Royal family is not doing us any favors, why should we protect them if they don’t protect us.
Damn, Harry was good.
Where W. really missed it was during his visit to Saudi Arabia. The news media reported that during is visit with the royal family George, the leader of the free world, while kneeling before the King, pleaded for an increase in the production of oil by the Royal family. The King, after spitting grape seeds toward the royal goat, told George that after seeking the wisdom of his spiritual leader he had to decline any increase at this time. Going further he admitted he had a bet with one of his brothers that he could get the price of oil to $150 per barrel before July 4th and that beating his brother out of $1 was something he really enjoyed doing.
Now here’s where we really have a breakdown in leadership. I can just see this King, living with his family in a twenty billion dollar compound telling Harry Truman that same bad news. Old Harry, first would have never been kneeling, would have simply asked the King if he could borrow his cell phone for a minute. As soon as the King handed him the phone Harry would have called (having memorized the number earlier) the commander of our force stationed in Saudi Arabia right there in front of the old King.
“Hello Gen. Schwarzkopf” (now Harry would have known the General was retired but would have used the name to really scare the King) “how long do you think it would take you to get all the boys and equipment packed up to go home?” By this time the King would begin to fidget. Truman would continue, “Yea, I mean to get completely out of this God forsaken place as fast as we can.” It wouldn’t matter what the General was saying on the other end, Truman would just keep saying what he wanted the King to hear. “The King here says they can handle their security themselves from now on and I want to get our boys out of here before we cut the water melons on the 4th.” “You get them packed up as soon as you can and ya’ll call the Air Force to come get you, take everything with you, the King says they can get by just fine without any more of our weapons and material.” Old Harry would end it by saying “When ya’ll get back get your little wife to give Bess a call and ya’ll stop by the White House for supper one day.” With that little Harry Truman would take his leave of the King and head back to the airport for his flight back to Washington. Harry would be half way over the Atlantic before the King could speak. See the King had never thought about speaking Iranian or Syrian and had never made any plans to give up his gold plated Jacuzzi and Rolex for each day of the year. By the time he could pull his robe out of his butt he would be trying to get Harry on his ‘SkyPhone’ to let him know the price of oil was now $15 per barrel and that we could take a 3% discount if we paid within 10 days of delivery.
It’s not all that complicated. Whoever controls those governments is going to drill and sell oil, hell that’s all they got. If Iran overran the Royal family they would have to have a market for the same oil the Royal family was selling. The only place they could sell it would be in China, North America, Europe or India. The consumer always sets the prices in an open market and the Royal family is not doing us any favors, why should we protect them if they don’t protect us.
Damn, Harry was good.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
IN THE ARENA
I decided some time during the night to quit criticizing and constantly finding fault in political candidates and to do something about our many problems. For that reason I’m throwing my hat into the ring and running for office. I think the qualifying is still open and I will be in the courthouse today to find out just what I need to do to get this thing going. It’s definitely time to get ‘into the arena’ as my old hero Pat Dye would say.
I think it is important to pay your dues when you first start out in politics and for that reason I’ve decided to run for ‘Notary Public’. I expect to do a good job at this level and in either two or four years move on up the election chain. I’ve noticed that some who hold this office claim to be ‘Notary Public State at Large’, I don’t know the difference but if the qualifying fee is not too much I may just go for the ‘State at Large’ position, it will look better on my campaign literature later when I run for some higher office.
I’m not real sure exactly what a Notary Public does but I do know everyone has to have one from time to time to sign on the bottom of a lot of important papers. I would think there would be an orientation seminar at Gulf Shores (paid for by the State) for all the new Notaries elected in an election cycle. I promise I will certainly attend and learn the ins and outs of my new office any faithfully carry out the duties prescribed by the law.
I think that by getting elected I would have more credibility with the other, higher office officials, and be able to have much more influence on how they conduct themselves. Just knowing that I was now in the game and a potential opponent in the years to come would cause them to fly a little straighter.
I’ve given a lot of thought to my campaign staff and think I have unlimited availability to some great people. My little buddy Jim Page is a political genius. He is in the middle of writing a book based on his years of experience in political campaigns. “Second Place is Relative”, will be on the shelves at bookstores everywhere by the time the election rolls around and just having his name on my literature will be a big plus. I know having Wade Weaver as the campaign’s treasure will be a huge asset. Since Wade is the local ‘Bud’ distributor I know the funds we raised will be well spent when we parlay the donations we collect into some old time rallies fueled by barbeque and Bud Light. The last person on my inner circle will be my longtime spiritual leader, the reverend Ezekiel Cleghorn Ramsey. Brother Zeke has preached at Old Bethel #2 for over 30 years and has baptized over 800 souls in Brushy Creek during that time. His following is scattered over at least three counties and at least that many generations. I know there are no U-Tube clips of his preaching and if I can get him around a beer distributor being in the same room with him much less on the same committee I’ve got it made.
I’m going for the 40 and older, blue collar, beer drinking camel smoking demographic in this campaign. We have a lot more of them in this area than any other group. I firmly believe my looks alone will get me a sizeable slice of the women over fifty and my penchant for good barbeque and Dale Earnhardt Jr. (may his father rest in peace) will pull their husbands into my column.
I think I can raise all the money I’ll need if I can raffle a bass boat during the time we are campaigning. I will sell the raffle tickets at $1.00 apiece based on ½ of the donation received. A person giving $10 to the campaign will get 5 raffle tickets on the boat and my campaign will take the other $5 to pay for the beer, barbeque and gas it takes to get from event to event. There was a great bass boat advertised in the classifieds today for $1500 if you would just move it from the seller’s back yard. If I can borrow a trailer this afternoon I capturing that sucker today.
I closing out now so I can find the trailer I need before it gets too late. I want to be standing down at the intersection of 31 and 67 by 4:30 so I can start waving to everyone on their was home. I hope you will tell someone you know about my race. It takes a lot of nerve to run a statewide race like this and I am going to need all the help I can get.
I think it is important to pay your dues when you first start out in politics and for that reason I’ve decided to run for ‘Notary Public’. I expect to do a good job at this level and in either two or four years move on up the election chain. I’ve noticed that some who hold this office claim to be ‘Notary Public State at Large’, I don’t know the difference but if the qualifying fee is not too much I may just go for the ‘State at Large’ position, it will look better on my campaign literature later when I run for some higher office.
I’m not real sure exactly what a Notary Public does but I do know everyone has to have one from time to time to sign on the bottom of a lot of important papers. I would think there would be an orientation seminar at Gulf Shores (paid for by the State) for all the new Notaries elected in an election cycle. I promise I will certainly attend and learn the ins and outs of my new office any faithfully carry out the duties prescribed by the law.
I think that by getting elected I would have more credibility with the other, higher office officials, and be able to have much more influence on how they conduct themselves. Just knowing that I was now in the game and a potential opponent in the years to come would cause them to fly a little straighter.
I’ve given a lot of thought to my campaign staff and think I have unlimited availability to some great people. My little buddy Jim Page is a political genius. He is in the middle of writing a book based on his years of experience in political campaigns. “Second Place is Relative”, will be on the shelves at bookstores everywhere by the time the election rolls around and just having his name on my literature will be a big plus. I know having Wade Weaver as the campaign’s treasure will be a huge asset. Since Wade is the local ‘Bud’ distributor I know the funds we raised will be well spent when we parlay the donations we collect into some old time rallies fueled by barbeque and Bud Light. The last person on my inner circle will be my longtime spiritual leader, the reverend Ezekiel Cleghorn Ramsey. Brother Zeke has preached at Old Bethel #2 for over 30 years and has baptized over 800 souls in Brushy Creek during that time. His following is scattered over at least three counties and at least that many generations. I know there are no U-Tube clips of his preaching and if I can get him around a beer distributor being in the same room with him much less on the same committee I’ve got it made.
I’m going for the 40 and older, blue collar, beer drinking camel smoking demographic in this campaign. We have a lot more of them in this area than any other group. I firmly believe my looks alone will get me a sizeable slice of the women over fifty and my penchant for good barbeque and Dale Earnhardt Jr. (may his father rest in peace) will pull their husbands into my column.
I think I can raise all the money I’ll need if I can raffle a bass boat during the time we are campaigning. I will sell the raffle tickets at $1.00 apiece based on ½ of the donation received. A person giving $10 to the campaign will get 5 raffle tickets on the boat and my campaign will take the other $5 to pay for the beer, barbeque and gas it takes to get from event to event. There was a great bass boat advertised in the classifieds today for $1500 if you would just move it from the seller’s back yard. If I can borrow a trailer this afternoon I capturing that sucker today.
I closing out now so I can find the trailer I need before it gets too late. I want to be standing down at the intersection of 31 and 67 by 4:30 so I can start waving to everyone on their was home. I hope you will tell someone you know about my race. It takes a lot of nerve to run a statewide race like this and I am going to need all the help I can get.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
REAL GENIUS
REAL GENIUS
Now here’s a real genius and I think I know him or at least some of his family.
“SAVANNAH, Ga. (AP) — Savannah police say a homeless man was electrocuted after apparently trying to steal copper from wires on a utility pole.”
There’s a lot of information in this short statement. First of all you have got to wonder why this guy was homeless in the first place. Here in North Alabama companies are fighting for creative and intelligent workers to man our many high tech industries. A man smart enough to recognize copper wire on a utility pole from the ground and strong enough to climb the pole to get to it could get a job if he really wanted one. I would not know copper wire from a good grade of fishing line if it was lying on the ground and I sure couldn’t get up a pole to steal it. Here you have a man that could do both yet he failed to figure out that if it was copper and strung between two poles on the side of a road that it probably had electricity running through it and might be carrying a pretty good bite.
You’ve got to think this joker had a better plan than to just climb the pole with some wire cutters and a spool to wrap his bounty around when he got it cut. I think it is important to find out just what he was thinking as he climbed that pole. Was he watching all the houses along the road that were serviced by the line to see when everyone turned off their lights for the night? Did he think that if the line were not buzzing that it meant there was no power running through it? He had to have some kind of plan. There is a saying made famous by some motivational speaker and writer that man does not fail “because he plans to fail, he fails because he fails to plan.” This poor guy left a page out of his final plan.
The reason I first said I thought I might know this guy or some of his family is because I’ve known some folks that had almost the same results in some of their efforts. I remember an ole boy I went to school with that was in a class by himself when it came to siphoning gasoline from cars to use in his old ’52 Roadmaster Buick. Billy Ray Newby never bought one gallon of gasoline during the three years he was in the 10th grade (Billy Ray turned 16 and got his license in the 9th grade). Billy Ray carried a garden hose and a five gallon bucket in the back seat of that old Buick just for the purpose of stealing gasoline from cars parked overnight in the local hospital parking lot. Billy Ray would wait until everything had quieted down after around 9:00 and would simply take his pick of the cars in the lot to replenish his tank in the old Buick whenever it would run low. Now this was at a time when gas was .30 a gallon so Billy Ray was only getting about a $1.50 a draw. After nearly three years of this and everyone knowing about Billy Ray’s continuing penchant for larceny, the lone police officer that patrolled out little town from 6:00 in the afternoon until midnight decided to take Billy Ray down. After a couple of weeks of foiling Billy Ray’s efforts, which cost Billy Ray two garden hoses and one five gallon bucket, Billy Ray decided it was time to move his operation to another area outside the patrol of Officer Raybon Hulsey. Billy Ray decided that the rock quarry just outside of town was the perfect place since it was only used at night for late night swimming and romantic getaways. The first few nights Billy Ray found a couple of pick-up trucks left by the quarry crew to be good sources for his gasoline needs. After discovering the loss of gasoline was becoming a problem the management started allowing the workers to drive the pick-ups home instead of leaving them at the quarry. This practice led to Billy Ray’s downfall. With all the pick-ups now gone, Billy Ray decided to just take the gasoline from the Caterpillar tractors left at the site. Like the guy on the utility pole, Billy Ray failed to plan or at least think about what he was about to do. Billy Ray got a longer garden hose and stuffed it into the huge tank on the giant piece of equipment. He began sucking the fuel through the hose using all the sucking power he could summons. It took a little longer to get the fuel to his mouth so I guess he did not know what to expect. With one final and huge suck Billy Ray sucked a flood of diesel fuel into his mouth. The fuel filled his mouth, flushed down the front of his shirt, his pants and all over the front part of his body. Before he could pull the hose away from his mouth blisters where covering inside his mouth, his chin and any part of his body the diesel fuel touched.
Billy Ray could not eat or talk for the next three weeks. He will tell you today that he thought the big machines ran on regular gas and had no idea what he was getting into that night so long ago. I guess it takes more than a ‘plan’; it doesn’t hurt to have a little common sense when you embark on a life of crime.
Now here’s a real genius and I think I know him or at least some of his family.
“SAVANNAH, Ga. (AP) — Savannah police say a homeless man was electrocuted after apparently trying to steal copper from wires on a utility pole.”
There’s a lot of information in this short statement. First of all you have got to wonder why this guy was homeless in the first place. Here in North Alabama companies are fighting for creative and intelligent workers to man our many high tech industries. A man smart enough to recognize copper wire on a utility pole from the ground and strong enough to climb the pole to get to it could get a job if he really wanted one. I would not know copper wire from a good grade of fishing line if it was lying on the ground and I sure couldn’t get up a pole to steal it. Here you have a man that could do both yet he failed to figure out that if it was copper and strung between two poles on the side of a road that it probably had electricity running through it and might be carrying a pretty good bite.
You’ve got to think this joker had a better plan than to just climb the pole with some wire cutters and a spool to wrap his bounty around when he got it cut. I think it is important to find out just what he was thinking as he climbed that pole. Was he watching all the houses along the road that were serviced by the line to see when everyone turned off their lights for the night? Did he think that if the line were not buzzing that it meant there was no power running through it? He had to have some kind of plan. There is a saying made famous by some motivational speaker and writer that man does not fail “because he plans to fail, he fails because he fails to plan.” This poor guy left a page out of his final plan.
The reason I first said I thought I might know this guy or some of his family is because I’ve known some folks that had almost the same results in some of their efforts. I remember an ole boy I went to school with that was in a class by himself when it came to siphoning gasoline from cars to use in his old ’52 Roadmaster Buick. Billy Ray Newby never bought one gallon of gasoline during the three years he was in the 10th grade (Billy Ray turned 16 and got his license in the 9th grade). Billy Ray carried a garden hose and a five gallon bucket in the back seat of that old Buick just for the purpose of stealing gasoline from cars parked overnight in the local hospital parking lot. Billy Ray would wait until everything had quieted down after around 9:00 and would simply take his pick of the cars in the lot to replenish his tank in the old Buick whenever it would run low. Now this was at a time when gas was .30 a gallon so Billy Ray was only getting about a $1.50 a draw. After nearly three years of this and everyone knowing about Billy Ray’s continuing penchant for larceny, the lone police officer that patrolled out little town from 6:00 in the afternoon until midnight decided to take Billy Ray down. After a couple of weeks of foiling Billy Ray’s efforts, which cost Billy Ray two garden hoses and one five gallon bucket, Billy Ray decided it was time to move his operation to another area outside the patrol of Officer Raybon Hulsey. Billy Ray decided that the rock quarry just outside of town was the perfect place since it was only used at night for late night swimming and romantic getaways. The first few nights Billy Ray found a couple of pick-up trucks left by the quarry crew to be good sources for his gasoline needs. After discovering the loss of gasoline was becoming a problem the management started allowing the workers to drive the pick-ups home instead of leaving them at the quarry. This practice led to Billy Ray’s downfall. With all the pick-ups now gone, Billy Ray decided to just take the gasoline from the Caterpillar tractors left at the site. Like the guy on the utility pole, Billy Ray failed to plan or at least think about what he was about to do. Billy Ray got a longer garden hose and stuffed it into the huge tank on the giant piece of equipment. He began sucking the fuel through the hose using all the sucking power he could summons. It took a little longer to get the fuel to his mouth so I guess he did not know what to expect. With one final and huge suck Billy Ray sucked a flood of diesel fuel into his mouth. The fuel filled his mouth, flushed down the front of his shirt, his pants and all over the front part of his body. Before he could pull the hose away from his mouth blisters where covering inside his mouth, his chin and any part of his body the diesel fuel touched.
Billy Ray could not eat or talk for the next three weeks. He will tell you today that he thought the big machines ran on regular gas and had no idea what he was getting into that night so long ago. I guess it takes more than a ‘plan’; it doesn’t hurt to have a little common sense when you embark on a life of crime.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
'IN GOD I TRUST'
I got one of those e-mails today that threatened me with total separation from the human family if I failed to pass it on to everybody in my contact list. I am ashamed to admit it but those things nearly always get my attention. The only ones that I feel safe in ignoring are the ones with pictures of either puppies, kittens or clouds over quotes from some dead person about inner peace or knowing one’s self. The rest, that include pictures of soldiers, flags, little kids or God, I feel compelled to pass along to selected contacts that I don’t mind embarrassing myself with. You easily decide which ones go to your perverted friends and which ones you send to the people in your Sunday school class.
One that came today I quickly closed deciding it posed no real threat to my future well-being and would not cause any bad consequences if I simply deleted it right then and there. As the day went on I kept thinking about the ideas that e-mail contained and its message made more and more sense to me the longer I thought about it. The jest of the message was that if the anti Christians wanted to insist in taking “In God we Trust” off anything related to the government, then the rest of us should simply start using the phrase on any and everything we do. The more I thought about this idea the more sense it seemed to make.
I have never agreed with the Roy Moore thinking that it was the government’s place to spread my religious beliefs to our fellow citizens. I think that is akin to expecting the government to raise our children, care for our old folks and to enforce a system of morality and religion we want to believe in but don’t want the responsibility of perpetuating. That is not the government’s job and Christ taught us that while he was still here.
The idea in the e-mail today was for Christians around the world to tag ourselves as believers by using the ‘In God we Trust’ thought in everything we do. To include the phrase in our signature lines on all our correspondence, on our business cards, in our literature and in all the ways we communicate with others. The more I thought about the impact of this simple effort the more I liked it. Every person that has contact with a person following this discipline would be witnessed to, hopefully many times every day. In doing this a person is not saying that he or she is better than anyone else, more saintly or better than the next guy. They are simply letting everyone he or she knows and deals with daily that they have a God in whom they trust. How many more times would God’s name of be brought to the attention of countless millions of people a day if we all started including this simple statement in some way on everything we did.
The phrase is not offensive. It promotes no church or denomination, it is adaptable and relevant to all religions in the world today, it simply identifies one as a person who trust God. To those who have no use or need for a God it means no more than a person saying ‘I’m a man’ or ‘I’m an American’. To those who do believe or are searching it can be an affirmation of their own belief or an encouragement in that there are others who do believe and are not afraid to proclaim that belief. This movement has the potential to witness to countless people every day and bring them together as believers.
It is past the time for us to depend on government to perpetuate the spirit of our faith. I would have no problem offending anyone this simple statement would offend. If I’m living my faith as I think I should I might even cause someone to become a little bolder in his or her own spiritual walk.
I’ve already deleted the message I got this morning. It really made much more sense than these ramblings I tried to write here, but I hope at least one more person gets the message I’m trying to send. If you think I’m a religious nut or if I may offend anyone I would simply say: ‘take a ticket and get on to the back of the line’. You’ve got to trust someone and I’ll take the one I choose everyday.
‘In God I Trust’
One that came today I quickly closed deciding it posed no real threat to my future well-being and would not cause any bad consequences if I simply deleted it right then and there. As the day went on I kept thinking about the ideas that e-mail contained and its message made more and more sense to me the longer I thought about it. The jest of the message was that if the anti Christians wanted to insist in taking “In God we Trust” off anything related to the government, then the rest of us should simply start using the phrase on any and everything we do. The more I thought about this idea the more sense it seemed to make.
I have never agreed with the Roy Moore thinking that it was the government’s place to spread my religious beliefs to our fellow citizens. I think that is akin to expecting the government to raise our children, care for our old folks and to enforce a system of morality and religion we want to believe in but don’t want the responsibility of perpetuating. That is not the government’s job and Christ taught us that while he was still here.
The idea in the e-mail today was for Christians around the world to tag ourselves as believers by using the ‘In God we Trust’ thought in everything we do. To include the phrase in our signature lines on all our correspondence, on our business cards, in our literature and in all the ways we communicate with others. The more I thought about the impact of this simple effort the more I liked it. Every person that has contact with a person following this discipline would be witnessed to, hopefully many times every day. In doing this a person is not saying that he or she is better than anyone else, more saintly or better than the next guy. They are simply letting everyone he or she knows and deals with daily that they have a God in whom they trust. How many more times would God’s name of be brought to the attention of countless millions of people a day if we all started including this simple statement in some way on everything we did.
The phrase is not offensive. It promotes no church or denomination, it is adaptable and relevant to all religions in the world today, it simply identifies one as a person who trust God. To those who have no use or need for a God it means no more than a person saying ‘I’m a man’ or ‘I’m an American’. To those who do believe or are searching it can be an affirmation of their own belief or an encouragement in that there are others who do believe and are not afraid to proclaim that belief. This movement has the potential to witness to countless people every day and bring them together as believers.
It is past the time for us to depend on government to perpetuate the spirit of our faith. I would have no problem offending anyone this simple statement would offend. If I’m living my faith as I think I should I might even cause someone to become a little bolder in his or her own spiritual walk.
I’ve already deleted the message I got this morning. It really made much more sense than these ramblings I tried to write here, but I hope at least one more person gets the message I’m trying to send. If you think I’m a religious nut or if I may offend anyone I would simply say: ‘take a ticket and get on to the back of the line’. You’ve got to trust someone and I’ll take the one I choose everyday.
‘In God I Trust’
Monday, May 12, 2008
CAREER KNOCKOUT
It happened about this time of year 46 years ago and I still get nightmares about one of the top three bad events in my life. I was a junior in high school and totally secure in my little world of Haleyville, Alabama, the greatest place to grow up in during the 60’s. During the winter I’d been named a captain of the next year’s football team, I was making pretty good grades and dating the drum majorette of the band. Spring sports were played for pure enjoyment and to give us kids an excuse from working during that time of year. The coaches that coached football in the fall and for a few weeks in the spring coached our baseball and track teams and got us to and from the other small towns in the area for games.
Since I was the biggest and by far the slowest kid on our baseball team I naturally got the call to catch. I was a decent catcher for our time and size of school but mostly I was the only one that would fit the chest protector that had been bought years before when the school had a real catcher. I stopped a high percentage of the balls thrown at me and on occasion, if the base runner was as slow a I was, I could get the ball to James Cecil Long who usually covered second for a put out. On offense I often hit the ball but was so slow I have been known to suffer a put out at first from a ball hit to left field. Fortunately for me we did not have anybody else that could wear the chest protector so I got to play on a regular basis.
Another big downer for baseball in our little hometown, and most of our area, was the lack of decent facilities to play on. In Haleyville we played in a field out near the Armory that I guess the American Legion had built many years before. The backstop was made of some old power poles (I’m sure Alabama Power found missing on some inventory) covered with chicken wire that had been salvaged from farms when the chicken industry moved from yards to chicken houses. The dugouts were only benches set fairly close to the first and third base lines due to the fact roadways separated by huge ditches ran immediately behind them. Not much chance to make a play on a foul ball since the player making the play was in danger of falling into a 4 to 8 foot ditch if he got outside the benches.
We did have from time to time some pretty good baseball players. Bob Masdon, a lifelong friend was probably the best I ever played with. When Bob was 15 he hitched a ride with some older kids to Winfield where the Cincinnati Reds were holding tryouts. Bob lied about his age when he registered that morning and he did so well in the tryout that the guys running them offered him a contract. He had to confess his true age and go home empty handed. The victim of my misadventures was a pitcher named Talmadge Goodwin. Talmadge was a pitcher unequaled during our time as high school baseball wannabes. Talmadge was the real thing, the first guy who could really throw a ball through a car wash and have it come out dry, that is if we had car washes during that time. He had every pitch and heat to burn, but unfortunately I was his catcher and he never made it past playing for the Pete Miller All-Stars, on Sunday afternoon in Winston and Walker County against the likes of Nauvoo and Carbon Hill, all because of me.
To showcase Talmadge and Bob and some other fairly good players our coach scheduled a game in Florence against Coffee High School that fateful day in the spring of 1962. The entire team crammed into three old army surplus cars the booster club had bought for the athletic department and headed for Florence and our shot at the big time. As we unloaded we could just a well been at Wrigley Field or Yankee Stadium. As I remember that field today it was beautiful. A field with grass on the infield and outfield, smooth, rock less red clay base paths and hitters boxes, on deck circles on both sides of the plate and most important a fence completely surrounding the park with yardage signs down both power alleys and in straightaway center. It could not have been more beautiful. In contrast most of us didn’t even have matching pants and jerseys and wore three different caps.
Uniformed umpires met at home plate with both coaches and after the normal warm-ups the game began. I don’t remember exactly, but I do know that we had a base runner or two in the first inning but failed to score any runs. Scouts from several colleges and a few professional scouts had come primarily to see this kid, Talmadge Goodwin from Haleyville throw and check out all the rumors making the rounds in those days. I was catching this star and was in total awe of the whole thing, maybe too much in awe. Talmadge warmed up from the mound to start the bottom half of the first inning. He had his best stuff on this big day. His fastball was literally knocking the mitt off my hand and all the breaking stuff was moving like a roller coaster car on a fast track. Every scout had his eye on this phenom and Haleyville was about to make its mark on the baseball world, except for one small problem. Talmadge signaled me that his warm up was complete and to ‘throw-it-down’, the last ritual before bringing the batter to the plate. As Talmadge threw the last pitch a hopping curve ball, he turned his back to the plate and bent over to pickup a rosin bag lying next to the pitching rubber. I caught the ball and with my best move jumped from my squat and fired the ball to James Cecil at second. I fired just as Talmadge raised up facing center field from his bent over position.
I never saw the ball come down. I did see it hit Talmadge in the back of his head and I saw it careen skyward, I promise I never saw it come down. Our hero was fallen, not in combat but from my friendly fire. They hauled him off on a stretcher and we picked up him at the hospital in the army surplus car on the way home. Talmadge signed a football scholarship later that spring to Alabama but never played a down. I have always wondered what would have happened if I had now knocked him out of not only his but our whole teams biggest game.
Talmadge is dead now (not from my throw) and he never held my throw against me, but I will never forget it. That throw would have been perfect if he had just stayed down and left it alone.
Since I was the biggest and by far the slowest kid on our baseball team I naturally got the call to catch. I was a decent catcher for our time and size of school but mostly I was the only one that would fit the chest protector that had been bought years before when the school had a real catcher. I stopped a high percentage of the balls thrown at me and on occasion, if the base runner was as slow a I was, I could get the ball to James Cecil Long who usually covered second for a put out. On offense I often hit the ball but was so slow I have been known to suffer a put out at first from a ball hit to left field. Fortunately for me we did not have anybody else that could wear the chest protector so I got to play on a regular basis.
Another big downer for baseball in our little hometown, and most of our area, was the lack of decent facilities to play on. In Haleyville we played in a field out near the Armory that I guess the American Legion had built many years before. The backstop was made of some old power poles (I’m sure Alabama Power found missing on some inventory) covered with chicken wire that had been salvaged from farms when the chicken industry moved from yards to chicken houses. The dugouts were only benches set fairly close to the first and third base lines due to the fact roadways separated by huge ditches ran immediately behind them. Not much chance to make a play on a foul ball since the player making the play was in danger of falling into a 4 to 8 foot ditch if he got outside the benches.
We did have from time to time some pretty good baseball players. Bob Masdon, a lifelong friend was probably the best I ever played with. When Bob was 15 he hitched a ride with some older kids to Winfield where the Cincinnati Reds were holding tryouts. Bob lied about his age when he registered that morning and he did so well in the tryout that the guys running them offered him a contract. He had to confess his true age and go home empty handed. The victim of my misadventures was a pitcher named Talmadge Goodwin. Talmadge was a pitcher unequaled during our time as high school baseball wannabes. Talmadge was the real thing, the first guy who could really throw a ball through a car wash and have it come out dry, that is if we had car washes during that time. He had every pitch and heat to burn, but unfortunately I was his catcher and he never made it past playing for the Pete Miller All-Stars, on Sunday afternoon in Winston and Walker County against the likes of Nauvoo and Carbon Hill, all because of me.
To showcase Talmadge and Bob and some other fairly good players our coach scheduled a game in Florence against Coffee High School that fateful day in the spring of 1962. The entire team crammed into three old army surplus cars the booster club had bought for the athletic department and headed for Florence and our shot at the big time. As we unloaded we could just a well been at Wrigley Field or Yankee Stadium. As I remember that field today it was beautiful. A field with grass on the infield and outfield, smooth, rock less red clay base paths and hitters boxes, on deck circles on both sides of the plate and most important a fence completely surrounding the park with yardage signs down both power alleys and in straightaway center. It could not have been more beautiful. In contrast most of us didn’t even have matching pants and jerseys and wore three different caps.
Uniformed umpires met at home plate with both coaches and after the normal warm-ups the game began. I don’t remember exactly, but I do know that we had a base runner or two in the first inning but failed to score any runs. Scouts from several colleges and a few professional scouts had come primarily to see this kid, Talmadge Goodwin from Haleyville throw and check out all the rumors making the rounds in those days. I was catching this star and was in total awe of the whole thing, maybe too much in awe. Talmadge warmed up from the mound to start the bottom half of the first inning. He had his best stuff on this big day. His fastball was literally knocking the mitt off my hand and all the breaking stuff was moving like a roller coaster car on a fast track. Every scout had his eye on this phenom and Haleyville was about to make its mark on the baseball world, except for one small problem. Talmadge signaled me that his warm up was complete and to ‘throw-it-down’, the last ritual before bringing the batter to the plate. As Talmadge threw the last pitch a hopping curve ball, he turned his back to the plate and bent over to pickup a rosin bag lying next to the pitching rubber. I caught the ball and with my best move jumped from my squat and fired the ball to James Cecil at second. I fired just as Talmadge raised up facing center field from his bent over position.
I never saw the ball come down. I did see it hit Talmadge in the back of his head and I saw it careen skyward, I promise I never saw it come down. Our hero was fallen, not in combat but from my friendly fire. They hauled him off on a stretcher and we picked up him at the hospital in the army surplus car on the way home. Talmadge signed a football scholarship later that spring to Alabama but never played a down. I have always wondered what would have happened if I had now knocked him out of not only his but our whole teams biggest game.
Talmadge is dead now (not from my throw) and he never held my throw against me, but I will never forget it. That throw would have been perfect if he had just stayed down and left it alone.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
'DYSON' vs 'SHOP-VAC'
“When ‘mama’ ain’t happy nobody is happy.” Whoever first spoke these words is a genius or at least he was married to a woman wired like my wife. For months all I’ve heard is about how we need a ‘Dyson’ cyclone suck all vacuum cleaner. This is the kind where the guy in the commercial, that talks like he’s from England or somewhere outside Alabama, explains how he invented this new vacuum cleaner that never loses suction. I really don’t know why Patsy needs a vacuum since she rarely ever uses one in the first place but for whatever the reason that ad caught her attention. Knowing how badly she wanted this new vacuum cleaner I decided that I would surprise her on her birthday with just what she talked so much about.
Like most men of the twenty-first century I went on line to shop for this special birthday surprise. I went first to the ‘Dyson’ site and found the offerings from that well advertised purveyor of carpet sucking products. I was literally overcome with the selection offered by this company. On television the grey hair man only mentions and shows what he calls a ‘Dyson’ machine. On the web site there are hundreds of different models not to mention the additional hundreds of accessories. There is everything from a ‘Dyson DC07 All Floors’ to a ‘Dyson DC25 Ball’ with about thirty different ‘Dyson’s’ thrown in for good measure. Some of the machines even have descriptive words in their name like the ‘Dyson DC07 Animal’, or the ‘Dyson DC17Allergy & Asthma’. Now I would think a vacuum cleaner that was revolutionizing the world of sucking up stuff off the floor would have all these features in one simple machine. Does this great inventor think we are going to buy multiple machines for specific applications around the house? One machine for the animal hair and then another for stuff we’re allergic to and maybe a third for the living room where neither animals nor humans ever go. The web search became more complicated when ask to decide whether you wanted an upright, canister or handheld, all equipped with the same dirt, dust, dog hair and lint options. The biggest downer with ‘Dyson’ was the pricing. I’m one of those guys that bought my first car for $100 and cringe when I put a $70 into the gas tank of my truck. Maybe the pricing has something to do with getting American dollars back to whatever country Mr. Dyson is from or maybe there are just enough people out there that want yellow vacuum cleaners. For whatever the reason these things are begin at $399 and go all the way to $599, way too much for an old boy from Winston County.
Now here is where my problem with ‘mama’ really starts. Realizing that the ‘Dyson’ was not an option for me, I resorted to my fail-safe plan for most household purchases. I stopped by my local ACE HARDWARE store down near ALFONSO’S on 31S. The sign in the window seemed to have been placed just for me, SHOP-VAC on sale was the first thing I saw as I parked my truck. I walked in and was immediately greeted by my old friend Dave Pennington. After exchanging greetings I told Dave about my search and ask about the sign promoting the SHOP-VAC and ask if it was not a good alternative. Dave showed me to the area where the SHOP-VACs were displayed. The one on sale was not the cheapest by any means but it would do everything I thought Patsy wanted and came with all the accessories included. The 14-gallon wet/dry vac would do it all. It would not only pick up dirt and grit but also clean nails, nuts and bolts from any surface, plenty of sucking power. In addition the 11.5 amp, 5.5 HP motor would suck water from carpet or hard surface and could even be converted to a blower for what I assumed would replace the need to dust. I thought I had found the perfect birthday present for my wife. Dave agreed to throw in a 25’ garden hose to drain the tank in case we used the water sucking feature and a pack of Shop-Vac disposable catch bags, all for the sale price of $114.99. I did not even realize until later I would also get 1150 ‘ACE REWARD POINTS’ with my purchase. I thought I hit the jackpot. I took my boxed birthday present to ‘Office Depot’ and had it wrapped in brightly colored shipping paper topped with a bow from 'HOBBY LOBBY'. I had it sitting, with a beautiful birthday card attached, in the middle of the sofa Patsy sits on in the T.V. room when she walked in on the morning of her birthday.
Somewhere I failed to live up to her expectations. I have not eaten a hot meal or enjoyed one simple cuddle since she opened my present. Next year I think I will seek the advice of Claire and Jenny, my two daughter-in-laws before I pick out Patsy’s present.
If anything ever overflows at your house I do have a great 14-gallon SHOP-VAC if you need to borrow one.
Like most men of the twenty-first century I went on line to shop for this special birthday surprise. I went first to the ‘Dyson’ site and found the offerings from that well advertised purveyor of carpet sucking products. I was literally overcome with the selection offered by this company. On television the grey hair man only mentions and shows what he calls a ‘Dyson’ machine. On the web site there are hundreds of different models not to mention the additional hundreds of accessories. There is everything from a ‘Dyson DC07 All Floors’ to a ‘Dyson DC25 Ball’ with about thirty different ‘Dyson’s’ thrown in for good measure. Some of the machines even have descriptive words in their name like the ‘Dyson DC07 Animal’, or the ‘Dyson DC17Allergy & Asthma’. Now I would think a vacuum cleaner that was revolutionizing the world of sucking up stuff off the floor would have all these features in one simple machine. Does this great inventor think we are going to buy multiple machines for specific applications around the house? One machine for the animal hair and then another for stuff we’re allergic to and maybe a third for the living room where neither animals nor humans ever go. The web search became more complicated when ask to decide whether you wanted an upright, canister or handheld, all equipped with the same dirt, dust, dog hair and lint options. The biggest downer with ‘Dyson’ was the pricing. I’m one of those guys that bought my first car for $100 and cringe when I put a $70 into the gas tank of my truck. Maybe the pricing has something to do with getting American dollars back to whatever country Mr. Dyson is from or maybe there are just enough people out there that want yellow vacuum cleaners. For whatever the reason these things are begin at $399 and go all the way to $599, way too much for an old boy from Winston County.
Now here is where my problem with ‘mama’ really starts. Realizing that the ‘Dyson’ was not an option for me, I resorted to my fail-safe plan for most household purchases. I stopped by my local ACE HARDWARE store down near ALFONSO’S on 31S. The sign in the window seemed to have been placed just for me, SHOP-VAC on sale was the first thing I saw as I parked my truck. I walked in and was immediately greeted by my old friend Dave Pennington. After exchanging greetings I told Dave about my search and ask about the sign promoting the SHOP-VAC and ask if it was not a good alternative. Dave showed me to the area where the SHOP-VACs were displayed. The one on sale was not the cheapest by any means but it would do everything I thought Patsy wanted and came with all the accessories included. The 14-gallon wet/dry vac would do it all. It would not only pick up dirt and grit but also clean nails, nuts and bolts from any surface, plenty of sucking power. In addition the 11.5 amp, 5.5 HP motor would suck water from carpet or hard surface and could even be converted to a blower for what I assumed would replace the need to dust. I thought I had found the perfect birthday present for my wife. Dave agreed to throw in a 25’ garden hose to drain the tank in case we used the water sucking feature and a pack of Shop-Vac disposable catch bags, all for the sale price of $114.99. I did not even realize until later I would also get 1150 ‘ACE REWARD POINTS’ with my purchase. I thought I hit the jackpot. I took my boxed birthday present to ‘Office Depot’ and had it wrapped in brightly colored shipping paper topped with a bow from 'HOBBY LOBBY'. I had it sitting, with a beautiful birthday card attached, in the middle of the sofa Patsy sits on in the T.V. room when she walked in on the morning of her birthday.
Somewhere I failed to live up to her expectations. I have not eaten a hot meal or enjoyed one simple cuddle since she opened my present. Next year I think I will seek the advice of Claire and Jenny, my two daughter-in-laws before I pick out Patsy’s present.
If anything ever overflows at your house I do have a great 14-gallon SHOP-VAC if you need to borrow one.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
I try to spend some time each day doing a devotional that helps me in my spiritual walk. My church’s publishing house offers a small devotional guide called the ‘Upper Room’ that I have found to be an excellent guide for these quiet times that have become important to me. The daily plan gives you a passage of scripture, a short personal testimony from either clergy or private individuals and a closing prayer and thought by the particular author of the day. Today’s offering was especially moving and meaningful to me and I feel strongly about sharing my thoughts on what I have just read.
The devotional today reminds me of the answered prayer we never realize we are beneficiaries of each day. The testimonial tells of a mother's prayer for her son throughout his life that ask God to surround her son with people who will be strong Christian influences on her son as he goes through life. The son eventually goes away to college and is assigned a roommate who is going through a year of rehab from a drug addiction. The mother becomes distressed when she learns of the problems her son’s roommate has experienced before getting to college. Her first thoughts are of her prayers and the failure of God to answer her petitions. She changes her mind when her sons reminds her there is a good chance the roommate’s mother prayed the same prayer and that the son may be the answer to the other mother’s prayer. The devotional ends with a simple prayer that packs a ton of meaning.
“Lord, surround those we love with people who will help them to grow spiritually.”
The devotional got me to thinking about the people that have always and continue to bless my life in so many ways. From my very birth so many wonderful Christian people have been a tremendous blessing to me. To begin with my parents and entire family have loved and blessed me in so many ways that I could never describe it or even begin to tell what it has meant to me. The hometown I grew up in surrounded me with so many examples and roll models for a Christian life that to name any individual would exclude dozens more that I would be embarrassed to leave out. With my limited memory and sixty-two year old mind, any list of those that have had a strong and lasting positive influence on me is incomplete; so know that those mentioned are merely examples of hundreds who shall go unnamed.
In my world today I can think of so many, like my good friends Marilyn Sykes and Donna McAnnally. These two came into my life at a time when I first started my real search. Susan Estes keeps it real and shows me so often how really simple it is when we really get to the basics of Christ message. My buddies at my weekly Bible study, Wally Terry, Mike Free, Leo Bouchard and all the rest walk me through the scriptures every Tuesday, giving me the assurance and validation I need to know that this walk is not something I’m doing alone. My preachers, Terry Greer, Ian Butler and Ken Dunivant and so many more, both now and in the past, that recharge my batteries when they sometimes run so low. And then there are just so many friends that make my walk and search so easy. Jack Ozier, Larry Weaver, Donnie Lane, Dianne Barrett, Steve Blake and too many more to name, while never having to say a word show me by example, in so many ways, the type of life I aspire to live. My only sibling, Jimmy, whose life is such an example, is a true Christian brother.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that if my mother prayed the same prayer this mother in today’s devotional prayed, for God to surround me with people that would support me spiritually and in my walk here on this earth, then that prayer has been answered many times over.
My only hesitation is publishing these thoughts is that there are so many who have been a blessing to me that I cannot name each one. I am thankful for each one and thank God each day for everyone who has meant so much. The people named are merely examples, good ones but only examples.
The devotional today reminds me of the answered prayer we never realize we are beneficiaries of each day. The testimonial tells of a mother's prayer for her son throughout his life that ask God to surround her son with people who will be strong Christian influences on her son as he goes through life. The son eventually goes away to college and is assigned a roommate who is going through a year of rehab from a drug addiction. The mother becomes distressed when she learns of the problems her son’s roommate has experienced before getting to college. Her first thoughts are of her prayers and the failure of God to answer her petitions. She changes her mind when her sons reminds her there is a good chance the roommate’s mother prayed the same prayer and that the son may be the answer to the other mother’s prayer. The devotional ends with a simple prayer that packs a ton of meaning.
“Lord, surround those we love with people who will help them to grow spiritually.”
The devotional got me to thinking about the people that have always and continue to bless my life in so many ways. From my very birth so many wonderful Christian people have been a tremendous blessing to me. To begin with my parents and entire family have loved and blessed me in so many ways that I could never describe it or even begin to tell what it has meant to me. The hometown I grew up in surrounded me with so many examples and roll models for a Christian life that to name any individual would exclude dozens more that I would be embarrassed to leave out. With my limited memory and sixty-two year old mind, any list of those that have had a strong and lasting positive influence on me is incomplete; so know that those mentioned are merely examples of hundreds who shall go unnamed.
In my world today I can think of so many, like my good friends Marilyn Sykes and Donna McAnnally. These two came into my life at a time when I first started my real search. Susan Estes keeps it real and shows me so often how really simple it is when we really get to the basics of Christ message. My buddies at my weekly Bible study, Wally Terry, Mike Free, Leo Bouchard and all the rest walk me through the scriptures every Tuesday, giving me the assurance and validation I need to know that this walk is not something I’m doing alone. My preachers, Terry Greer, Ian Butler and Ken Dunivant and so many more, both now and in the past, that recharge my batteries when they sometimes run so low. And then there are just so many friends that make my walk and search so easy. Jack Ozier, Larry Weaver, Donnie Lane, Dianne Barrett, Steve Blake and too many more to name, while never having to say a word show me by example, in so many ways, the type of life I aspire to live. My only sibling, Jimmy, whose life is such an example, is a true Christian brother.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that if my mother prayed the same prayer this mother in today’s devotional prayed, for God to surround me with people that would support me spiritually and in my walk here on this earth, then that prayer has been answered many times over.
My only hesitation is publishing these thoughts is that there are so many who have been a blessing to me that I cannot name each one. I am thankful for each one and thank God each day for everyone who has meant so much. The people named are merely examples, good ones but only examples.
Monday, May 5, 2008
VIVA CINCO
Well we’ve made it to May 5th, Cinco De Mayo day, the birthday of a famous Mexican. I think Mrs. Taylor, one of my favorite teachers, told us Cinco was the guy that invented tacos (translation: 'tasteless trash') several hundred years ago and shared them with the Spaniards that first landed in Mexico. As I remember it was at a time when the Mexicans invited all the Spanish over to celebrate the exchange of Spanish whiskey for the loco weed the Mexicans had been enjoying for generations. Cinco, always the practical joker, bet another Mexican that he could get these yoyos from the big boats to eat tasteless corn tortillas stuffed with mashed up beans and cat meat. He covered his creation by putting diced tomatoes, onions and shredded lettuce on top with some chunky salsa covering the whole thing. Cinco won the bet and the Spanish liked it so much they opened little taco stands along all the trails in Mexico and sold this newly invented garbage to the armies of Ponce De Leon as they landed. If I’m not wrong these little stands were the fore runners of the now famous Taco Bells that cover the world. In this country Cinco De Mayo is the day when Americans everywhere have the excuse to eat Mexican food and drink Tequila based drinks on a weekday as opposed to waiting for a Friday, Saturday or Sunday night.
Doing things on the right days is important to Americans. With the exception of some Jews, a few Catholics and all the Seventh Day Adventist we have to worship on Sundays. Now I know the Bible says God worked for six days and rested on the seventh, thereby giving us direction for our day of worship, but the book also talks about Sunday being the first day of the week which would make Saturday the seventh. That didn’t work out for us since most of us did our shopping on Saturday, so we just took the count from the day that best suited us and made Sunday the day to worship and said that is what God told us to do. We are pretty good at that kind of thing and I don’t see any need to stop.
Somebody once told us that we should vote on a Tuesday, and we have pretty much stuck to that rule for as long as we’ve been around as a nation. I am going to assume that Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Paul Revere had commissioned a study that found that Tuesday was far enough removed from the weekend to allow full recovery from any hangover and far enough away from Friday to keep us from being distracted. It has worked pretty well up until we elected George W. but I guess one slip-up in 233 years is not all that bad.
Up and until ESPN started televising college football on Thursday nights we were pretty well locked into only watching college football on Saturdays and then only in the fall of the year. We still don’t give much credit to either a win or a loss for any team that plays on any day except Saturday. The losing team did not have enough time to prepare or the winning team only played a patsy the Saturday before and the game is not really a true test for either.
Why don’t they run the Kentucky Derby or the Preakness on a Wednesday or play the Championship game of the Final Four on a Thursday? Is Augusta National closed on any day except Sunday for the final round of the Master’s? One time I’d like to see the Super Bowl played on a Tuesday afternoon or God worshiped on Wednesday morning at 6:30.
Because Cino’s birthday is on the 5th day of May it moves around without any trouble. We get to eat and drink Mexican on a different day of the week every year. We’re just too structured in this country for our own good. Maybe it was the Spanish whiskey or the Mexican loco weed that got it all started in laid-back Mexico.
I’m just glad we had our fore fathers to tell our country which day of the week certain things could be enjoyed. What if we just went around having fun on any day of the week? You would not even know the day Boston Legal was going to be on television.
Doing things on the right days is important to Americans. With the exception of some Jews, a few Catholics and all the Seventh Day Adventist we have to worship on Sundays. Now I know the Bible says God worked for six days and rested on the seventh, thereby giving us direction for our day of worship, but the book also talks about Sunday being the first day of the week which would make Saturday the seventh. That didn’t work out for us since most of us did our shopping on Saturday, so we just took the count from the day that best suited us and made Sunday the day to worship and said that is what God told us to do. We are pretty good at that kind of thing and I don’t see any need to stop.
Somebody once told us that we should vote on a Tuesday, and we have pretty much stuck to that rule for as long as we’ve been around as a nation. I am going to assume that Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Paul Revere had commissioned a study that found that Tuesday was far enough removed from the weekend to allow full recovery from any hangover and far enough away from Friday to keep us from being distracted. It has worked pretty well up until we elected George W. but I guess one slip-up in 233 years is not all that bad.
Up and until ESPN started televising college football on Thursday nights we were pretty well locked into only watching college football on Saturdays and then only in the fall of the year. We still don’t give much credit to either a win or a loss for any team that plays on any day except Saturday. The losing team did not have enough time to prepare or the winning team only played a patsy the Saturday before and the game is not really a true test for either.
Why don’t they run the Kentucky Derby or the Preakness on a Wednesday or play the Championship game of the Final Four on a Thursday? Is Augusta National closed on any day except Sunday for the final round of the Master’s? One time I’d like to see the Super Bowl played on a Tuesday afternoon or God worshiped on Wednesday morning at 6:30.
Because Cino’s birthday is on the 5th day of May it moves around without any trouble. We get to eat and drink Mexican on a different day of the week every year. We’re just too structured in this country for our own good. Maybe it was the Spanish whiskey or the Mexican loco weed that got it all started in laid-back Mexico.
I’m just glad we had our fore fathers to tell our country which day of the week certain things could be enjoyed. What if we just went around having fun on any day of the week? You would not even know the day Boston Legal was going to be on television.
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