Actually, the name is Keith. Keith Mitchell. Actually, Robert Keith Mitchell, but everyone knows him as "Booger." In fact, many people had no idea who was being talked about if you called him Keith.
We all have people who make a significant impact on our lives: our parents, our teachers, our childhood friends, and many others. Booger made a very large dent in my existence.
When I joined the Army National Guard - June 23rd, 1975 - I joined the 151st Army Band; a unit in the Alabama National Guard. We were a premiere unit. We played military and state government ceremonies, recruiting concerts at malls and schools, etc. We didn't do things like spend time in the field, or go to jungle training-type schools. We played music - military and otherwise - and we were very good. We once spent our Summer Camp at West Point Military Academy covering the performance duties of the United States Military Academy Band (TUSMAB). It was very cool. Along with playing a concert in Rockefeller Plaza in New York City, we played an open-air concert on the grounds of West Point for a few thousand people! But... I digress!
I left the band after 17 years, 1 Month, 16 days and became a member of the 3/117th Field Artillery - an honest-to-God, real live Army-type unit. To say that I knew nothing about real Army stuff is an understatement. Words like "commo" and "popping smoke" made my head spin. Booger taught me everything. Booger took the time to help me avoid looking like some green, unknowing Private. Remember, I had been in for 17 years, how could I not know these things?
Going to Summer Camp meant spending 12 long, hot days in the field. Heavy-duty training. Showers were, generally, every few days at best. Having the wrong equipment, or not having the right equipment meant being uncomfortable, unprepared, or really, really inconvenienced.
Booger taught me everything. "Pick up some of this. Bring some of that. You don't need to bring that. Don't show up without this." He made sure that I looked like I belonged. Treated me like I had been in the unit for years, instead of 6 weeks. Helped me understand everything about the Army, Field Artillery, and how to survive the real military. He showed me how to do all the jobs that would help me in my military career -- everything from driving an 11 ton track to putting a small, woven kitchen rug next to your cot in the woods to avoid putting your feet on cold, wet ground in the morning.
He taught me many other lessons. Small lessons. Large lessons. What was smart. What to avoid. I would have to say that Booger, moreso than anyone else in my military career, helped guide me to the point that my retirement from the Army National Guard was after 30+ years. Only Lester, another great friend, helped me in such a huge way.
It has been a couple of years now since Booger passed away. He had cancer. Booger smoked WAY too much, but oddly, did not die from lung cancer. Some small skin cancer, doubtless from so many years in the field, went undiagnosed and metastasized to his brain. I did not even know he was dying. I saw Booger about a month before he died. He stopped by the office where I had gone to work several years earlier for the National Guard Bureau - again, because of his guidance and help. He did not tell me. He did not complain. We chatted. We laughed. We hugged. He left. And soon, he died.
I did not go to his funeral. I didn't know he had died until minutes after his funeral was over. It is just as well. I have the ability to remember Booger as I saw him for many years, and as I saw him last. He was my teacher, my supervisor, and my friend. And I thank God for the time I knew him. I was a far better Soldier and a much richer person because of him. And I miss him.
Rest in Peace, Booger.
Rest in Peace, Keith.
Rest in Peace, Master Sergeant Robert Keith Mitchell.
-
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
...About Grammar
When I was a child, my first 4 years in school were at St. Clements Catholic School. It was a small parish-run school. First through eighth grades were in one building - two classes per room. My first grade teacher was a nun named Sister Johanna. Sister Johanna was old, short, wrinkled, and VERY old-fashioned. I suppose she was the "Parochial School nun" from Central Casting for many movies. The single largest thing I remember about that time was that she taught us cursive writing and how to talk. Now that wasn't a class, it was Sister Johanna. I remember asking if I could throw a piece of paper away. I wasn't allowed, because I didn't call the receptacle by the correct name - at least as far as Sister Johanna was concerned. "May I throw this paper in the garbage can?" Wrong. "May I throw this paper in the trash can?" Wrong. I ended up keeping it since I did not call it a "Waste paper basket." Whatever!! I am scarred for life because of Sister Johanna. But in spite of having to keep waste paper in my desk and ruler marks on the back of the hands, I am grateful to Sister Johanna for the beginnings of knowing good grammar. She, along with my parents, taught us to speak with good grammar.
But... I digress!
I get so aggravated when I see (or hear) bad grammar being used. Through colloquial living, I have a propensity for saying things like, "I ain't going over there with y'all" and "He ain't gotta clue about driving safe." Oooh, Sister Johanna would smack me on the hand! But when it's appropriate to speak correctly, fortunately, I am trained. And when I say "trained," that's the truth. Though it's not that hard, it takes training.
There, their, and they're drive me crazy. I know this is a spelling issue, but it is all part of the same problem. It makes me cringe when I see people write, "It was there own fault." I'm sure you could make someone react like a dog hearing a high-pitched whistle by having them read "They're own their own over there." Huh?
Their, they're, there was a Victoria's Secret commercial a year or so ago that made me want to go screaming down the street. In the middle of whatever it is going on in those commercials, big letters flash on the screen. One screen says something like "THE ONE DAY SALE" and a second later, it actually said "THERE'S BIG SAVINGS" Are you kidding me??!! Read that the way it reads without the contraction... There IS Big Savings. Really?? REALLY?? Victoria's Secrets? A buncha big boobs who are a buncha big boobs! They're's just no counting for smarts. (Like that one?)
A few of the others that cause me a nervous twitch: "I seen him yesterday at the store;" "They done that already;" [I hope you easily saw more than one in that example.] Another commercial - "Be smart, eat healthy." Ly! "Eat HealthILY!" Man! These people! "Buckle up - Drive Safe!" Aaarrgh!!
Ooh, ooh... here's a killer -- "I'd rather break my leg then lose my wallet." You want to do both??
It's like the new, greatest reminder out there:
"Let's eat grandpa."
"Let's eat, grandpa."
Punctuation saves lives.
I love that one.
Now don't get me wrong, I get the fact that if you walk around speaking the Queen's English all the time, people are going to shun you. But when it's a formal, written document - or a TV commercial - for Heaven's sake, use correct grammar. If you have the slightest question of whether or not you know how to use correct grammar, ask someone. Actually, the easiest thing now is spell check and Google. Google! You can type "using there or their" and get the answer! What a country! It neither takes long to do, nor costs money. (See what I did there?)
I know this all sounds a bit hoity-toity, but with this country's decline in so many educational areas, little things like grammar and spelling should be relatively easy to get right. I think we should have stricter penalties when adults use bad grammar or spelling. "No, Mr. Smith, we won't fix your car. You didn't ask in the correct manner. Charlie, hand me that ruler."
Sister Johanna is spinning in her grave like a top.
-
But... I digress!
I get so aggravated when I see (or hear) bad grammar being used. Through colloquial living, I have a propensity for saying things like, "I ain't going over there with y'all" and "He ain't gotta clue about driving safe." Oooh, Sister Johanna would smack me on the hand! But when it's appropriate to speak correctly, fortunately, I am trained. And when I say "trained," that's the truth. Though it's not that hard, it takes training.
There, their, and they're drive me crazy. I know this is a spelling issue, but it is all part of the same problem. It makes me cringe when I see people write, "It was there own fault." I'm sure you could make someone react like a dog hearing a high-pitched whistle by having them read "They're own their own over there." Huh?
A few of the others that cause me a nervous twitch: "I seen him yesterday at the store;" "They done that already;" [I hope you easily saw more than one in that example.] Another commercial - "Be smart, eat healthy." Ly! "Eat HealthILY!" Man! These people! "Buckle up - Drive Safe!" Aaarrgh!!
Ooh, ooh... here's a killer -- "I'd rather break my leg then lose my wallet." You want to do both??
It's like the new, greatest reminder out there:
"Let's eat grandpa."
"Let's eat, grandpa."
Punctuation saves lives.
I love that one.
Now don't get me wrong, I get the fact that if you walk around speaking the Queen's English all the time, people are going to shun you. But when it's a formal, written document - or a TV commercial - for Heaven's sake, use correct grammar. If you have the slightest question of whether or not you know how to use correct grammar, ask someone. Actually, the easiest thing now is spell check and Google. Google! You can type "using there or their" and get the answer! What a country! It neither takes long to do, nor costs money. (See what I did there?)
I know this all sounds a bit hoity-toity, but with this country's decline in so many educational areas, little things like grammar and spelling should be relatively easy to get right. I think we should have stricter penalties when adults use bad grammar or spelling. "No, Mr. Smith, we won't fix your car. You didn't ask in the correct manner. Charlie, hand me that ruler."
Sister Johanna is spinning in her grave like a top.
-
Thursday, December 22, 2011
...About Spitting
Why do people feel it necessary to wander around spitting all the time?? I have never seen it to the point that it is these days. Many years ago, in most cities it was against the law to spit on the sidewalk. Maybe it should be again!! It's disgusting. Really. It is disgusting to see some guy, for no apparent reason, just spitting on the sidewalk. I don't wanna walk through that spit (See how I did that there?). I don't want it on my shoe - even though it's on the bottom! My wife and I like to have a nice house. The LAST damn thing I want is to track that into my house.
Now if you're out in a field somewhere, like doing farm-type work, and you gotta big ol' chew of Redman in your cheek, that's one thing. I used to chew. I enjoyed chewing when the National Guard Artillery unit I was in was out in the field for 12 days. When we win the lottery and buy a horse farm in Florida, I will probably chew out in the pasture in the eastern 40. But I ain't gonna be doing it around the yard of the house. And don't EVEN talk about spitting in a cup. That's just as disgusting as standing outside Walgreens spitting on the sidewalk. Besides, my wife would hurt me.
I will say one of the most illustrative instances of poetic justice was a guy I saw get what he had coming to him. He knew that everyone in the office hated that he had his dip in his mouth all the time, so, of course, he always had a dip. He would carry both a styrofoam coffee cup for drinking and a styrofoam coffee cup for spitting. (You can see this coming!) In a moment of it's-all-about-me storytelling, he picks up the coffee and spits, and picks up the spit cup and drinks! It was FABULOUS! Not only did he go running out of the room to who-knows-where, but we didn't see him again for quite a while. I suppose he was too embarrassed to come back. I loved it. But...... I digress!
It especially bugs me when the guy(s) spitting have no reason to be spitting. Now don't get me wrong -- if you've got a Big Mac sesame seed from the bun stuck between a molar and a bicuspid, I get that. But it don't take very much. A little *pthew* and it's a goner. I'm talking about guys in khakis, a Polo shirt, and penny loafers standing at the grill in the backyard spitting like some guy who lost a bet and had to lick a dog's butt. They have neither seeds nor a wad of Levi Garrett in that mouth. I mean, seriously, if your own saliva tastes that bad, go brush your damn teeth for the love of Pete! You want your "other half" to enjoy that taste, why shouldn't you??
I love baseball. I especially love Braves baseball. I can watch 162 games each year (if they're playing worth a crap). But I have to say, I don't get them either. Alex Gonzales drinks 3 cups of water in the dugout before stepping into the batter's box. Then stands there and spits 13 times between each pitch. Really?? Was there something in that cup in the dugout that tasted that bad? It's no wonder they have to rehydrate so much, they spit every ounce of fluid onto the grass -- and in the baseline. Ever notice the dirt on a uniform after a guy slides into the base? Ever see a really dark spot of mud in the middle of that dirt on his uniform? Spit. Poetic justice.
You don't really see football players spitting that much. Maybe they've figured out that whole "If I spit there, I'm gonna have to roll around in it." They might spit a lot, but we just don't see it.
Now don't get me wrong. I'm not some kind of pansey or holier-than-thou. I just think it's ridiculous and disgusting to have to watch people walk around spewing saliva. I can only wonder how long it will be before it's OK to walk around allowing us to enjoy other bodily functions. Lord, please don't let that become couth until after I've shuffled off this mortal coil.
-
Now if you're out in a field somewhere, like doing farm-type work, and you gotta big ol' chew of Redman in your cheek, that's one thing. I used to chew. I enjoyed chewing when the National Guard Artillery unit I was in was out in the field for 12 days. When we win the lottery and buy a horse farm in Florida, I will probably chew out in the pasture in the eastern 40. But I ain't gonna be doing it around the yard of the house. And don't EVEN talk about spitting in a cup. That's just as disgusting as standing outside Walgreens spitting on the sidewalk. Besides, my wife would hurt me.
I will say one of the most illustrative instances of poetic justice was a guy I saw get what he had coming to him. He knew that everyone in the office hated that he had his dip in his mouth all the time, so, of course, he always had a dip. He would carry both a styrofoam coffee cup for drinking and a styrofoam coffee cup for spitting. (You can see this coming!) In a moment of it's-all-about-me storytelling, he picks up the coffee and spits, and picks up the spit cup and drinks! It was FABULOUS! Not only did he go running out of the room to who-knows-where, but we didn't see him again for quite a while. I suppose he was too embarrassed to come back. I loved it. But...... I digress!
It especially bugs me when the guy(s) spitting have no reason to be spitting. Now don't get me wrong -- if you've got a Big Mac sesame seed from the bun stuck between a molar and a bicuspid, I get that. But it don't take very much. A little *pthew* and it's a goner. I'm talking about guys in khakis, a Polo shirt, and penny loafers standing at the grill in the backyard spitting like some guy who lost a bet and had to lick a dog's butt. They have neither seeds nor a wad of Levi Garrett in that mouth. I mean, seriously, if your own saliva tastes that bad, go brush your damn teeth for the love of Pete! You want your "other half" to enjoy that taste, why shouldn't you??
I love baseball. I especially love Braves baseball. I can watch 162 games each year (if they're playing worth a crap). But I have to say, I don't get them either. Alex Gonzales drinks 3 cups of water in the dugout before stepping into the batter's box. Then stands there and spits 13 times between each pitch. Really?? Was there something in that cup in the dugout that tasted that bad? It's no wonder they have to rehydrate so much, they spit every ounce of fluid onto the grass -- and in the baseline. Ever notice the dirt on a uniform after a guy slides into the base? Ever see a really dark spot of mud in the middle of that dirt on his uniform? Spit. Poetic justice.
You don't really see football players spitting that much. Maybe they've figured out that whole "If I spit there, I'm gonna have to roll around in it." They might spit a lot, but we just don't see it.
Now don't get me wrong. I'm not some kind of pansey or holier-than-thou. I just think it's ridiculous and disgusting to have to watch people walk around spewing saliva. I can only wonder how long it will be before it's OK to walk around allowing us to enjoy other bodily functions. Lord, please don't let that become couth until after I've shuffled off this mortal coil.
-
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
...About Turn Signals and Such
Blinker, turn signal, dink dink, directional indicator, beenka-beenka -- I don't care what you call the damn thing, USE IT! I have been driving for a long many years now (39 actually), and I have to say that in my lifetime behind the wheel of MANY different cars, every one of them had turn signals. Trucks, too! What a concept!
[Understand that because of my age, I will sometimes use the phrase, "Back when I was a kid" or some such like that. I never thought I'd be that way, but I suppose we are a product of our years. But.... I digress!]
*ahem* Back when I was a kid learning to drive, the driver's instruction manual was very clear on the use of arm & hand signals to indicate a turn was about to occur. HA! Most young people I know probably have no idea what that means or what those signals are. I will be seeing my daughter Elizabeth this weekend, and I'm going to ask her. ('Course, she'll probably read this and study before she gets here because she likes to fool me.)
Using a blinker should be as natural while driving as turning up the radio volume, or turning on the windshield wipers, or eating french fries. Should be. But for some unknown reason, people are just plain not gonna do it.
I'm not really sure why they put a horn on a car, though. I don't use it. (All the damn college kids around this area, however, have practiced the hell outta that!) I will open my great big size 42 mouth and let 'em have it! "For about 35 cents more you coulda gotten one with blinkers on it!!" My wife doesn't like it when I yell at another driver. Usually it's because I have the window up and it resonates through the car - and her head. "Geez, Paul! You know they can't hear you, right?!" I don't know why I yell at them... I suppose it makes me feel better. Not her.
And while I'm here... Learn how to make a turn! The driver's manual (from 1970ish) was clear about making turns, too. When you turn left onto a roadway with 2 lanes, you turn into the closest lane, turn on your TURN SIGNAL and move to the right lane when clear. It amazes me the number of people who drive as though negotiating a small waterway with an aircraft carrier! Unbeknownst to most drivers today is that your car - even without adding some special equipment - will make pretty close to a 90 degree turn. You don't have to swing that frigate out into three lanes when you turn. 'Course if you'd get that thing outta your ear and drive, you'd probably be surprised at what you'd accomplish.
I've always said the only bumper sticker I would want on my car would say, "Get off the damn phone and drive!" I watched a guy, talking on his phone, turn onto a street in front of another car. The second car honked the horn at him pretty hard. The guy was so insert-your-favorite-word-for-stupid-here that he actually waved out the window, apparantly thinking it was someone saying "hello."
I saw a car that had hit another car in a parking lot. The driver is standing there with a dumbfounded look on its face, as though it can't figure out why that happened, while still talking on the phone. "Well, damn, girl," it says, "Imoan hafta go. I done got in a wreck." (Yes, I said "it" on purpose.) And the rest of us just shake our heads.
Have I missed anything? I'm sure I have... we'll get it next time.
[Understand that because of my age, I will sometimes use the phrase, "Back when I was a kid" or some such like that. I never thought I'd be that way, but I suppose we are a product of our years. But.... I digress!]
*ahem* Back when I was a kid learning to drive, the driver's instruction manual was very clear on the use of arm & hand signals to indicate a turn was about to occur. HA! Most young people I know probably have no idea what that means or what those signals are. I will be seeing my daughter Elizabeth this weekend, and I'm going to ask her. ('Course, she'll probably read this and study before she gets here because she likes to fool me.)
Using a blinker should be as natural while driving as turning up the radio volume, or turning on the windshield wipers, or eating french fries. Should be. But for some unknown reason, people are just plain not gonna do it.
I'm not really sure why they put a horn on a car, though. I don't use it. (All the damn college kids around this area, however, have practiced the hell outta that!) I will open my great big size 42 mouth and let 'em have it! "For about 35 cents more you coulda gotten one with blinkers on it!!" My wife doesn't like it when I yell at another driver. Usually it's because I have the window up and it resonates through the car - and her head. "Geez, Paul! You know they can't hear you, right?!" I don't know why I yell at them... I suppose it makes me feel better. Not her.
And while I'm here... Learn how to make a turn! The driver's manual (from 1970ish) was clear about making turns, too. When you turn left onto a roadway with 2 lanes, you turn into the closest lane, turn on your TURN SIGNAL and move to the right lane when clear. It amazes me the number of people who drive as though negotiating a small waterway with an aircraft carrier! Unbeknownst to most drivers today is that your car - even without adding some special equipment - will make pretty close to a 90 degree turn. You don't have to swing that frigate out into three lanes when you turn. 'Course if you'd get that thing outta your ear and drive, you'd probably be surprised at what you'd accomplish.
I've always said the only bumper sticker I would want on my car would say, "Get off the damn phone and drive!" I watched a guy, talking on his phone, turn onto a street in front of another car. The second car honked the horn at him pretty hard. The guy was so insert-your-favorite-word-for-stupid-here that he actually waved out the window, apparantly thinking it was someone saying "hello."
I saw a car that had hit another car in a parking lot. The driver is standing there with a dumbfounded look on its face, as though it can't figure out why that happened, while still talking on the phone. "Well, damn, girl," it says, "Imoan hafta go. I done got in a wreck." (Yes, I said "it" on purpose.) And the rest of us just shake our heads.
Have I missed anything? I'm sure I have... we'll get it next time.
Monday, December 19, 2011
...About Friends and Loyalty
Please be warned that this one is a bit deep. It ain't gots no humor in it. It's me venting and being a bit self-pitying. I'm not generally very open with my feelings, but I'm told that's what this blog crap is for, so here goes.
We all have friends. We have new friends. We have old friends. We have close friends. We have casual acquintances. [Why do I picture a "casual" acquaintance wearing khakis and a golf shirt?] We have friends we can never see enough of. We have friends with whom catching up once every 3 years for an hour is perfect. We thrive on friends.
For pretty much all of my life I have been very self-sheltering. I have always kept people at arm's length. The general group of people around me are at the end of my fingertips. A handful (no pun intended) are allowed inside the fingertips, but no closer than my forearms - almost to my elbows. And several, only several, make it up to my shoulders. They are the ones considered my close friends. A very, very, very select few are embraced and pulled into my heart.
"Why are you so stand-offish and selective?" I'm not sure I know why. I suppose that more than anything else, it is either a hatred or a fear; likely both. What the hell does that mean? It is a hatred of being misled (whether intentional or not) into believing that someone is close to you, supports you, loves you, and will always be there for you - and then, with a gentle change in the breeze, they're gone; it's that and/or the fear of that happening.
Multi-millionaire and motivational speaker Jim Rohn (now deceased) talked about recruiting people into a business. I adapted his story into how people (and friends) are in general. It is taken from a parable in the Bible. I very loosely relate it as follows:
The sower sows his seeds. And the seeds fall onto differing types of soil. Some of the seeds fall on dry, flat ground and are quickly eaten by the birds. They simply go away, never a chance to grow or take root.
Some of the seeds fall onto rocky ground, and though they begin to grow up through the rocks, they are thin and frail and quickly dry out in the sun and die.
Some of the seeds fall onto ground that is covered in thorns. They begin to grow and partially flourish, but become entangled in the thorns and are choked until they eventually die.
But some of the seeds fall onto good ground that is rich and fertile. These seeds, though few, grow big and full and, with good tending of the sower, have an abundant harvest.
That is exactly how I see friends.
The definition of Loyalty is : the quality or state of being loyal - which is : unswerving in allegiance
To have those friends whom I allow to be at the shoulders or closer, is to have the ones with whom I share the truest sense of friendship - Loyalty. There is a not-so-old saying that heralds, "A good friend will bail you out of jail. A close friend is sitting beside you." Now not that I've been in a jail (in fact never in my life), but I know exactly what that means and what that feels like. I have some of the most loyal, close friends anyone could hope to have. [I want very much to name them, but I don't want to alienate anyone else! Those folks know who they are.] And at any instant, they know where my loyalty lies. I consider myself one of the luckiest people in the history of this universe and several others to have the close, loyal friends I enjoy.
But...
Loyalty is also the one thing that has hurt me more than any other thing on the planet. Not long ago, I was given the undesired opportunity to know what it feels like when someone who has been allowed to be that close; someone to whom I have been deeply loyal, turns on you like a lion that has been kept as a pet. One of my most loyal friends, Ralph once said to me, "Man, most people are only your friends while it's convenient." I always poo-pooed that sentiment as being a bit too cynical. He was right, I was wrong. I allowed someone to get too close. Someone who had not proven themself like Mark or Ralph or a few others. And for that, I paid dearly.
It will never happen again. I will never again allow someone to get that close. Those who are there now will be the last. One of my (many) faults is that I tend to make the actions of the few govern the laws of the many. It may not be fair, but that's the way it is. It will be a long, slow, careful process before someone gets in again.
"If that no-good SOB is out of that circle now, why are you writing this?" Maybe, and I can only hope, one day that no-good SOB will find his way here and will read this and know that I'm talking about him. He stripped a lot of things from me, but he will never take my close, loyal friends... and I will be better for it. My wife is the smartest person I know (she married ME, didn't she?!), she says, "That will be between him and God." And I believe her. And because I can believe that, I can get over it. And my close, loyal friends will help me.
Sorry to be kinda dark. I'll try to be funny next time.
--
We all have friends. We have new friends. We have old friends. We have close friends. We have casual acquintances. [Why do I picture a "casual" acquaintance wearing khakis and a golf shirt?] We have friends we can never see enough of. We have friends with whom catching up once every 3 years for an hour is perfect. We thrive on friends.
For pretty much all of my life I have been very self-sheltering. I have always kept people at arm's length. The general group of people around me are at the end of my fingertips. A handful (no pun intended) are allowed inside the fingertips, but no closer than my forearms - almost to my elbows. And several, only several, make it up to my shoulders. They are the ones considered my close friends. A very, very, very select few are embraced and pulled into my heart.
"Why are you so stand-offish and selective?" I'm not sure I know why. I suppose that more than anything else, it is either a hatred or a fear; likely both. What the hell does that mean? It is a hatred of being misled (whether intentional or not) into believing that someone is close to you, supports you, loves you, and will always be there for you - and then, with a gentle change in the breeze, they're gone; it's that and/or the fear of that happening.
Multi-millionaire and motivational speaker Jim Rohn (now deceased) talked about recruiting people into a business. I adapted his story into how people (and friends) are in general. It is taken from a parable in the Bible. I very loosely relate it as follows:
The sower sows his seeds. And the seeds fall onto differing types of soil. Some of the seeds fall on dry, flat ground and are quickly eaten by the birds. They simply go away, never a chance to grow or take root.
Some of the seeds fall onto rocky ground, and though they begin to grow up through the rocks, they are thin and frail and quickly dry out in the sun and die.
Some of the seeds fall onto ground that is covered in thorns. They begin to grow and partially flourish, but become entangled in the thorns and are choked until they eventually die.
But some of the seeds fall onto good ground that is rich and fertile. These seeds, though few, grow big and full and, with good tending of the sower, have an abundant harvest.
That is exactly how I see friends.
The definition of Loyalty is : the quality or state of being loyal - which is : unswerving in allegiance
To have those friends whom I allow to be at the shoulders or closer, is to have the ones with whom I share the truest sense of friendship - Loyalty. There is a not-so-old saying that heralds, "A good friend will bail you out of jail. A close friend is sitting beside you." Now not that I've been in a jail (in fact never in my life), but I know exactly what that means and what that feels like. I have some of the most loyal, close friends anyone could hope to have. [I want very much to name them, but I don't want to alienate anyone else! Those folks know who they are.] And at any instant, they know where my loyalty lies. I consider myself one of the luckiest people in the history of this universe and several others to have the close, loyal friends I enjoy.
But...
Loyalty is also the one thing that has hurt me more than any other thing on the planet. Not long ago, I was given the undesired opportunity to know what it feels like when someone who has been allowed to be that close; someone to whom I have been deeply loyal, turns on you like a lion that has been kept as a pet. One of my most loyal friends, Ralph once said to me, "Man, most people are only your friends while it's convenient." I always poo-pooed that sentiment as being a bit too cynical. He was right, I was wrong. I allowed someone to get too close. Someone who had not proven themself like Mark or Ralph or a few others. And for that, I paid dearly.
It will never happen again. I will never again allow someone to get that close. Those who are there now will be the last. One of my (many) faults is that I tend to make the actions of the few govern the laws of the many. It may not be fair, but that's the way it is. It will be a long, slow, careful process before someone gets in again.
"If that no-good SOB is out of that circle now, why are you writing this?" Maybe, and I can only hope, one day that no-good SOB will find his way here and will read this and know that I'm talking about him. He stripped a lot of things from me, but he will never take my close, loyal friends... and I will be better for it. My wife is the smartest person I know (she married ME, didn't she?!), she says, "That will be between him and God." And I believe her. And because I can believe that, I can get over it. And my close, loyal friends will help me.
Sorry to be kinda dark. I'll try to be funny next time.
--
Sunday, December 18, 2011
...I'd ask, "Where's the Rake??"
OK. I did the first "Welcome In" blog. I suppose now I should actually say something.
Our house is for sale, and being aware of things like "curb appeal" and the like (HGTV will change the world), I figured I'd better clean up the leaves in the yard. It really needs to look good, you know? So I went out, got on my Craftsman lawn tractor with the mulching blades and the double-bagger (unlike the normal usage of the term "two-bagger"), and was prepared to make short work of those damn leaves. Turned the key... click. Dammit. Not whirrrr, click. Just click. Gotta be the battery. Hooked up the battery charger for several hours. Click. Dammit. Must be the starter. "Alright. I'm in the mood... where's the rake?"
WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING???!!!
If you are anywhere near my age (54), you have probably had the opportunity to enjoy the finer things in life: a lawn tractor, beer in a twist-off bottle, maybe a pool, good friends who also like beer in a twist-off bottle, etc. etc. We forget things like using a bottle opener or a leaf rake. There are things we should never do when we reach the age of better logic. A leaf rake is a great thing, but it will take its toll on old bones.
But I digress. [And just what the hell does "digress" mean, anyway? People use that term all the time. They have no clue what it means. I do. I looked it up. Intransitive verb: to turn aside especially from the main subject of attention or course of argument. So... as I will do from time to time... I digress.]
Many years ago, my father would come home from work, and, in the summer when it stays light longer, he would go out after dinner (supper) and take the water hose... and water. You know what I mean. Thumb-over-the-end-making-a-spray kinda watering. And he stood, and he stood, and he stood. I never understood it until many years later. I was sitting on the porch one evening, having had yet another less-than-enjoyable conversation with my 1st wife (the bitch), and I picked up the hose and started watering the grass. After several minutes - voila! I had begun to calm into figuring out the problems of the world. Wanna experience that in the fall and winter? Pick up the rake. (And you just THOUGHT I wouldn't get back on topic!)
Raking the front yard took me most of the day Saturday and part of Sunday. I solved tons o' problems. I even decided to write this blog thing - which I may still not write. It was therapeutic. It was tiring, but a good kinda tiring. The yard looks good (it would look great if the damn wind wasn't blowing), the grass is aerated, and I have the satisfying feeling of having accomplished something significant. As I said, old muscles aren't very happy right now, but I feel manly. There is a HUGE pile of leaves running most of the length of my front curb, and I feel mighty. So my thought to you is this: Wanna feel manly (or womanly)? Wanna sense of great accomplishment? Wanna just think through life's issues and come up with the answers? Grab the rake and hit the yard! It's a sure-fire way to let your mind clear.
Now... Wanna know what really sucks? I have ZERO trees in my yard. Not one damn tree. I have 14.7 tons of leaves and achy arms and back muscles, AND NOT ONE TREE! I should just push them back into my neighbor's yard. But of course, the wind is blowing back this way!
Maybe I'll do the back yard next weekend...... maybe not. Time for a twist-off.
Our house is for sale, and being aware of things like "curb appeal" and the like (HGTV will change the world), I figured I'd better clean up the leaves in the yard. It really needs to look good, you know? So I went out, got on my Craftsman lawn tractor with the mulching blades and the double-bagger (unlike the normal usage of the term "two-bagger"), and was prepared to make short work of those damn leaves. Turned the key... click. Dammit. Not whirrrr, click. Just click. Gotta be the battery. Hooked up the battery charger for several hours. Click. Dammit. Must be the starter. "Alright. I'm in the mood... where's the rake?"
WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING???!!!
If you are anywhere near my age (54), you have probably had the opportunity to enjoy the finer things in life: a lawn tractor, beer in a twist-off bottle, maybe a pool, good friends who also like beer in a twist-off bottle, etc. etc. We forget things like using a bottle opener or a leaf rake. There are things we should never do when we reach the age of better logic. A leaf rake is a great thing, but it will take its toll on old bones.
But I digress. [And just what the hell does "digress" mean, anyway? People use that term all the time. They have no clue what it means. I do. I looked it up. Intransitive verb: to turn aside especially from the main subject of attention or course of argument. So... as I will do from time to time... I digress.]
Many years ago, my father would come home from work, and, in the summer when it stays light longer, he would go out after dinner (supper) and take the water hose... and water. You know what I mean. Thumb-over-the-end-making-a-spray kinda watering. And he stood, and he stood, and he stood. I never understood it until many years later. I was sitting on the porch one evening, having had yet another less-than-enjoyable conversation with my 1st wife (the bitch), and I picked up the hose and started watering the grass. After several minutes - voila! I had begun to calm into figuring out the problems of the world. Wanna experience that in the fall and winter? Pick up the rake. (And you just THOUGHT I wouldn't get back on topic!)
Raking the front yard took me most of the day Saturday and part of Sunday. I solved tons o' problems. I even decided to write this blog thing - which I may still not write. It was therapeutic. It was tiring, but a good kinda tiring. The yard looks good (it would look great if the damn wind wasn't blowing), the grass is aerated, and I have the satisfying feeling of having accomplished something significant. As I said, old muscles aren't very happy right now, but I feel manly. There is a HUGE pile of leaves running most of the length of my front curb, and I feel mighty. So my thought to you is this: Wanna feel manly (or womanly)? Wanna sense of great accomplishment? Wanna just think through life's issues and come up with the answers? Grab the rake and hit the yard! It's a sure-fire way to let your mind clear.
Now... Wanna know what really sucks? I have ZERO trees in my yard. Not one damn tree. I have 14.7 tons of leaves and achy arms and back muscles, AND NOT ONE TREE! I should just push them back into my neighbor's yard. But of course, the wind is blowing back this way!
Maybe I'll do the back yard next weekend...... maybe not. Time for a twist-off.
...and I'm Not, But if I Were....
...what the hell would I write about? I don't generally read people's blogs. My brother (one year older) started blogging. I decided one day to see what he writes about. "I'll give it a momentary look..." Over an hour later, I thought, "That's pretty cool."
He writes about this and that. He writes some things that are quite poignant, some things that bring back memories from our youth, some things that I find a bit unnecessary -- just stuff. And I liked it. He has always had the ability to write, and I liked it.
I have also read the blogging of a girl (lady, woman, female - what the hell) whom I know. She is 20few and has a very different outlook on life. Some to my liking; some not so much, I read her, and I like it.
So I figure, "Why not?" If I write something that makes sense... cool. If I write something that pisses someone off... cool. If I write, and no one ever reads it... that's cool, too. (I'm pretty sure my wife will read it - that "blind love" kinda thing.)
I suppose I'll put the disclaimer paragraph here -- Mom & Dad... If you read these ramblings (that blog name was taken, hence why I chose Brain Farts), please do not be offended by what I write. Though I don't plan to say things that will be offensive or upsetting, I can make no guarantees. Know that I love you and will TRY to be tempered in my stuff (Yeah, OK). To my friends and acquaintances, same thing. Read it, like it. hate it, bite me!
This will be the chance for me to say what I want. Maybe, just maybe, someone will like what they read and will tune in again next time. You'll hear a lot of old phrases and sayings in my ramblings. You know why? Because I can.
I hope it will be a fun ride. We'll see. I CAN tell you that if you will go with me, you just might laugh, you just might enjoy a tear, and you'll certainly hear me bitch from time to time!
Now... how do you close one of these things??
He writes about this and that. He writes some things that are quite poignant, some things that bring back memories from our youth, some things that I find a bit unnecessary -- just stuff. And I liked it. He has always had the ability to write, and I liked it.
I have also read the blogging of a girl (lady, woman, female - what the hell) whom I know. She is 20few and has a very different outlook on life. Some to my liking; some not so much, I read her, and I like it.
So I figure, "Why not?" If I write something that makes sense... cool. If I write something that pisses someone off... cool. If I write, and no one ever reads it... that's cool, too. (I'm pretty sure my wife will read it - that "blind love" kinda thing.)
I suppose I'll put the disclaimer paragraph here -- Mom & Dad... If you read these ramblings (that blog name was taken, hence why I chose Brain Farts), please do not be offended by what I write. Though I don't plan to say things that will be offensive or upsetting, I can make no guarantees. Know that I love you and will TRY to be tempered in my stuff (Yeah, OK). To my friends and acquaintances, same thing. Read it, like it. hate it, bite me!
This will be the chance for me to say what I want. Maybe, just maybe, someone will like what they read and will tune in again next time. You'll hear a lot of old phrases and sayings in my ramblings. You know why? Because I can.
I hope it will be a fun ride. We'll see. I CAN tell you that if you will go with me, you just might laugh, you just might enjoy a tear, and you'll certainly hear me bitch from time to time!
Now... how do you close one of these things??
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