...About Old Friends

Last weekend was the occasion of the 50 Year Reunion of my high school graduating class. Let me say that again for dramatic impact. The 50th. Fifty. The Big Five-Oh. Fitty. 

It's really eye-opening to hit a milestone of that size. It, once again, makes you realize just how old you are! When you add the 18 years of age you were enjoying when you graduated, the shock sets in even deeper. When we were young, we never contemplated being this old. I have no recollection of ever having had a conscious thought about getting this old - where I would be; what I'd be doing. I suppose God doesn't push us on that because He knows it will hit us all soon enough. But... I digress. 

Held every 5 years, I have attended all of our reunions since the 20th, with the exception of the 45th. I have always gone especially to see a small handful of folks: Mark, Kurt, Mike, Leslie, and 1 or 2 more. Mike passed away a fair while back now; I haven't heard anything from or about Kurt in 10 years and he was absent this time; Mark is in LA taking care of a sick family member; Leslie did not attend. This left me a little anxious about whether or not I'd have a good time or feel a bit like a 5th wheel with no real landing spot. 

Who the hell was I kidding? 

It was "on" from the minute I walked in. I stopped at the check-in table, said Hello to Teresa, and immediately saw Steve. Steve and I have been friends since the 5th grade. He was always larger-than-life: handsome, very athletic (played football for Bear Bryant!), outgoing - he's been making girls swoon for many years. We grabbed and bear-hugged like you'd expect old friends to do. After chatting for a couple of minutes, it was non-stop! I saw friends I had not seen in 10 years, and I saw old friends I haven't seen in 50 years! Big hugs and lotsa laughs - over and over and over. Johnny, Buddy, Tricia, Jay, Malia, Joy, Larry, Lynn, Doug, Kathi, Robert, Ken, Beth, Robyn, Judy, Mike, Dorothy, Linda, Oscar, John, Pat, Kathy, Kim, Cathy, Jeff, Bonnie, Jan, Brenda, Lisa, Jimmy, Gary, Carol, Mary, Vicki, Sherry, and so many I'm leaving out. It was as if we all still live in the same neighborhood, attend the same churches, and go to the same skating rink! There were lots of folks I saw from across the room, but could never get over to see. I'm sad about that. 

Of course there was some sad reflection on the number of classmates who have passed away. More than 80. And a handful every year now it seems. There were somewhere around 450ish in our class. (That number varies depending on who you ask!) We had approximately 20% of that number at the event! It was great! Some were in a little better health than others, as would be expected, but I did not see one person there who did not look to be having a great time. I know I damn sure did! 

I now anxiously await the next reunion in five years. Some were talking about every 10 years - NO, NO, NO! It's gotta be every 5! We are getting too old to put anything off any longer! 

I thank God I made this one. Can't wait for another! I can only look this good for a little while longer! 

.  

...About Observations

Sometimes, I find that I notice and spend time thinking about some pretty interesting things. Most of which are not really worth wasting time over, but I give them a temporary lease. Often, the lessees are observations I make about one mundane thing or another. I put those observances in a category I call, "D'ja ever notice...?" 

For example - D'ja ever notice that Jeeps are a major cause of traffic aggravations? Morning traffic - easing along at a decent clip. One lane starts to become a good bit slower than the other. Dang! Go On! When you finally get the chance to change lanes and move around the pokies, the pokey lane leader is... a damn Jeep. Most often a Wrangler or a Rubicon, but even Grand Cherokees. Why? I've heard it's often because a Jeep, especially the off-road versions are hard to drive. Or maybe the drivers are just too self-absorbed to care about anyone else. I don't know. In all my years I've never driven a Jeep. Too tall to be comfortable. 

And what's up with the damn ducks on Jeeps? Why would you want to leave and - more importantly - why would I want you to leave a duck on my vehicle? Maybe that why Jeeps drive so slowly: waiting for a duck.  But... I digress. 

D'ja ever notice how your foot is directly attached to your eyes? You are driving down the road in the flow of traffic; maybe a few MPH over the speed limit. There's a Police car sitting on the side of the road. When you see it, your foot automatically lifts off the gas pedal just a little. You don't hit the brakes - that would be foolish and attract attention. Just ease off a touch to drop down to just above the posted speed. And then keep checking that mirror to make sure he hasn't joined the flow.  

D'ja ever notice how, when coming upon slowed traffic at an accident or some problem, men must slow down, turn down the music, and roll down the window to see better. It's 41º, 9 at night, drizzling rain, and you come upon an accident. Window down, music off, and slow down to figure it out... 'cause someone just might need your opinion of who is at fault.  

D'ja ever notice how some of the simplest things can cause the level of dust build-up in your eyes to increase? I'm not sure when it happened that I became a "softy." These days I can get a little moist-eyed at some of the smallest things. Seeing the beaming pride of a parent whose child just won the "such-a-thing." The parent of an elementary school student who drew a crayon picture that was selected as 1st Place in the school competition. Standing tall, chest out, smiling as big as a planet while their child is presented with a coupon for a free pizza. 

So many little things like these grab my notice and my feels these days. Maybe I notice them because I envy that parent's moment; or maybe because in our world right now, bad things are easy to spot, but special, seemingly small actions or events must be found. And it's those special, seemingly small actions or events that are what can help an old guy hold belief that maybe, just maybe the future will be in good hands. 

.

...About the Rest of the Story

I told you before that my dad was a self-made man. I may not get all of these in order or exactly correctly said, but, he got a job with a travel company (Brownell Tours), then became a salesman for Xerox. He traveled a pretty fair amount and became (as I remember) quite successful and respected. Unknown to me, he was taking night classes at University of Alabama in Birmingham and graduated with a degree in accounting. He took a job as a staff accountant working in a basement office at UAB - one of those wide-open offices of many people at open desks. More night classes and earning another degree led to many years with UAB. He retired from UAB as the Comptroller for the UAB School of Dentistry. While all of the above occurred, he served as a strong leader in the church and as Representative/ then Assistant/ then Head Scoutmaster for the church Boy Scout troop. After retiring, he volunteered for SCORE - Senior Core Of Retired Executives. He touched many lives. Something we knew little about until his death. 

My mother worked back and forth between the telephone company and having baby boys. I mostly remember her being at home trying to wrangle three little ones. She was an excellent seamstress and made a lot of the clothes we three wore. Usually what was made was "times 3" - especially regarding PJs and slippers. PJs were sewn by her; slippers were knitted by her. There were often questions from acquaintances of whether or not we were triplets or, at least twins! Several years later, my sister was born. The joke was the TV must have been on the fritz! My mom cooked wonderfully. She kept an immaculate house. She was active in church organizations - especially in the choir often singing solos. Every Christmas, during Midnight Mass, she would sing 'O, Holy Night' solo. To this day, a beautiful rendition of it brings me to tears. 

If there were arguments between them I didn't know it. There were tough times when the budget was tight, but we never felt we did without. One Christmas we boys each received a backpack, a web belt, and an Army helmet liner from the Surplus Store (unknown to us), and a wooden rifle that had a gold wood bullet in it when the bolt was racked. And the trigger would 'click' when pulled. That's it. We were happy. We didn't understand why we couldn't have the newest toys the other kids had, but we were happy enough. 

Raising us 4 kids wasn't easy. It was hard as hell. I was always in some kind of mischief. We were all a pain. Those stories are for another time. 

My parents did the best they could. If you haven't noticed by now, their names were Dick and Jane. Yes. They/we heard all the joking questions about them being the stars of the Dick & Jane Learning-to-Read Series of books. Years later, my dad actually gave my mom the entire collection of Dick & Jane books as a Christmas gift! 

They loved to travel, which they did very often. They loved square dancing and were members of several clubs and travelled to conventions every year for many years. At 50 years of marriage, they renewed their vows in a huge family event. By 60 years together, age and illness had begun. My mom suffered severe rheumatoid arthritis. My dad was being overtaken by pulmonary fibrosis. She became his total caregiver. She never complained as her ability to have a life of her own was overtaken. At 62 years of marriage, and age 85, my father passed away in his bed at home. 

For the first time in her entire life my mother was alone. She was living with her mom and dad when they met. She married and moved in with her new husband. Until he passed away, she had never been alone. 

She began to breathe again. After two years of intense, all-consuming caregiving, she began to go to church again. To see her friends again. But she was 88 years old and frail. At one point she fell and had to be rushed to the hospital. It would be the last time she lived in her home. It was recognized that she could not live alone again. After her hospital stay, she went to rehab, moved right into assisted care, and soon was frail enough that she was moved to hospice care. Two years after dad died, my mother passed away. I am truly convinced that she died from a lonely heart. My father, the only man she ever loved, was gone. At age 90, she would now go to be with him in Heaven. My father died May 5th, 2016. My mother died March 6th, 2018. 

I think of them every single day. I miss them. I am crying as I finish this. It wasn't always perfect growing up, but it was later on. I look forward to the day when I see them again. 

Rest easy, Dick & Jane! We all miss you and love you. 

.    

...About USO Dances

The United Services Organizations (USO) formed in February 1941 under President Franklin D. Roosevelt to facilitate on-leave recreation for the United States armed forces during World War II. It existed until after the Korean War. Its participating organizations, largely run by volunteers, hosted dances, community socials, and luncheons and provided services such as clubrooms, free coffee and doughnuts, and religious counsel.

USO Dances were, generally, the most widely-known service by the public. Dances were often standing-room-only events. They allowed Service Members the opportunity to unwind and relax, and non-Service Members the chance to mingle and enjoy the attention of a soldier, sailor, or pilot away from home! It wasn't meant to be a debaucherous hookup. Just the occasion to relax, perhaps have a coffee, dance, and relieve some of the stress of military duty.

While my dad was stationed at Ft. McClellan, he became good friends with Gordon. One time, Gordon asked Dick to join him in going to the USO Dance that weekend in Birmingham. Gordon's girlfriend, Gertrude, had a friend that would be perfect for Dick. Dick declined at first, but Gordon convinced him to go. After all, Gordon would have little time with Gertrude if her friend was hanging around. So, Dick went. He had a terrible time and resolved he would never go again.

A short time later, Gordon again approached Dick to go with him to the dance. And, again, Dick relented and went with him. At the dance, Gertrude's next "friend for Dick" didn't show up and Dick met Gertrude's friend Jane. The two hit it off and, after a short time, became an item. The time frame is a little unknown to me but suffice to say they were in love and got married! 

So did Gordon and Gertrude. They all stayed close friends for the rest of their lives!   

Next - We'll look at their lives together. My mom and dad; not Gordon and Gertrude. 

.

...About My Mom

My mother was born in Birmingham, AL. She, her five brothers and sisters, and Grandmother and Papa lived a modest life. According to my mom, they didn't have a lot of money. In fact, there were times when money was tight enough that children still living at home contributed a large portion of their work-wages to help pay the bills. 

Papa worked for a meat company and would, from time to time, travel to help make sales of meat and associated products. Papa passed away when I was about 10. I don't have many memories of him, except that I was, generally, scared of him. I don't know why. The only real memory I have was that, every Sunday we went to their house to visit. Dinner was light. The children were put in the den where the TV was. The "Grumps" (grown-ups) were around the dining room table. We were given 4 crackers and cheese and one 8 oz glass of Coca Cola on ice. The only time we were allowed to have Coke! I recall (only once) having the nerve to go into the dining room to the Grump table to ask for seconds of crackers and cheese and Papa yelling "GIT!" I don't recall ever going back! We watched The Wonderful World of Disney on TV. In fact, it was there that we saw the very first color TV. It was Disney's The Wonderful World of Color! But... I digress. 

My mother worked for the (Bell) Telephone Company and was quite pretty and friendly. She was a telephone operator and, thinking back, I remember her always having had a sweet, friendly voice. Though there are not a lot of adventure stories about her life, I do know that she enjoyed going out with her sisters and girlfriends when possible. This often included going to the local USO dance! 

We'll talk about the USO dance and what it brought about. Stay with me! 

.

...About My Dad

So I mentioned in our last visit that I had lost both my parents in the last several years. I feel like it might be time to talk about them a little. This will take a few blogs. I hope you'll go with me. 

My father was born in Macomb, Illinois. A small place that I remember only small things about. My Grandma worked at a ceramic-ware company. I knew the name once, but it escapes me now. As best as I remember, his father bailed when he was young, and Grandma, and her 3 kids (Joan [pronounced Jo-Ann], Don, and my dad, Richard, who went by Dick) were poor and had to work hard to make it. Joan died when we kids were pretty young to cancer. Don and his family lived in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Until I was 15, every-other year our family would pack up and drive to Illinois for a few days, and then to Michigan for a few days on vacation. The other years, they would all come south to our place. 

There are 4 of us children - Danny, me, and David (one year apart each), and our sister Anne (six years younger than me). Depending on who you are talking to, stories and feelings about my dad vary. We all have differing remembrances and stories. Some of them are good and some bad. Some paint a less-than-wonderful picture of dad. Some stories are told with a sense of hatred. Most of my personal stories are not hate-filled, but reflect an understanding that we didn't necessarily agree on much. Though we were generally at odds and I didn't like him much, I don't recall that I hated him. I think I just wanted to be allowed to do what I wanted because certainly I was smart enough to make my own decisions about my life and didn't need his control. 

It is imperative that we remember things were hugely different in that time in history. Relationships with your parents weren't based on being friends. Your parents had it rough and that was just the way it was. It was quite true then that "Children were meant to be seen, not heard." Much later in life, I remember my father told me, "We didn't have a manual. We struggled to know what to do and just did the best we knew how." I have admitted for many years now that "the older I get, the smarter he was!"  But, I digress...  

In my grown life, I have always described my dad as a truly self-made man. He had limited opportunities while young. Money was tight; sometimes there just wasn't much at all. One story I remember from him was that there was a time when the four of them in his family were living in someone's garage, and hung a sheet on a rope across the middle of the garage to make two rooms. I have never had to live like that. At a point, he joined the Army and ultimately went to OCS and became a 2nd Lieutenant. He was stationed at Ft. McClellan, AL in the 1950s. It would be during his time there that he would have the occasion to attend a USO dance or two that would forever change his life.

We will let him hang right there for now while we talk about my mom. And THAT will be our next blog entry! Please stay tuned! 

.

...About Time Passing

Wow! It's been a good while since I've posted, so I guess it's about time to get back at it. There's not been a ton happening, though things have been going along. Make sense? My father used to say, "There's something to be said for being in a comfortable rut." I truly agree with that. We just go along and try to keep afloat. 

It's really hard to believe it's been 4 years since I've visited here. I suppose Covid, and changes caused by it, would be the expected topic, but not for me. Knew a lot of people who had it, a number who died, and had it on a small scale myself. I try to give it no room in my brain. It doesn't deserve it. 

Speaking of my father, I never wrote about losing both of my parents. Dad first, then Mom 2 years after. They lived long, wonderful lives together, and I know they are together in Heaven. I love them and miss them deeply every day, even though they've been gone now for several years. 

My daughter Elizabeth is engaged to a wonderful fella. I couldn't be happier! He makes her happy, which makes me happy, which means everyone gets to keep breathing! I am so excited about their wedding in the coming months. 

Fortunately, my wonderful wife has resisted the urge to kill me in my sleep! Though I know it can't be easy, that's always a good thing. 

My buddy Mark is doing well. He's now a grandfather to a beautiful little girl who turns him into warm, watery pudding. It's pretty damn funny! 

There are some stories to tell and we will get to those as we go along together again. Let's just not make it so long between visits! 

.

 

...about Celebrity Importance

I suppose a year of no blog means things have been going pretty smoothly. I was prompted recently that I had expressed a view or two that might be better fleshed-out in a blog, so here we go! 

Personally, I think we lend waaaay too much credence to what those in celebrity life positions tell us, care about, or feel. We let them express their viewpoints, and we discuss them, are thoughtful about their position, and truly seem to mold our own positions based on what they tell us. 

Let me say right here that I use the editorial "we" in this discussion. Please do not be misled into thinking that I agree with, or even pay attention to what these high-dollar clowns think. I suppose I was trained in the use of we in an editorial sense from way back. I fully grasped from someone's teaching, that we is a much better alternative to the self-serving, or finger-pointing feeling exuded by the use of the word "I".  But...I digress. 

Let's look at a few examples of what I'm talking about with these celebrities. I call it "Aaaannnnnddd.... nobody cares!" 

After news of an NBA memo talking about playing games without fans or media, as a preventative measure to stem the spread of coronavirus, LeBron made clear to the media, and everyone who listened, "So if I show up to an arena and there ain’t no fans in there, I ain’t playing. They can do what they want to do.”  Now there are those who believe he could entice other players to say the same. But, as one reporter observed, they get paid when they play.

As for me? I say - Aaaannnnnddd.... nobody cares! 

In 2003, Natalie Maines made a comment that brought the Dixie Chicks career to a screeching halt. While performing live in England, she took a shot at President Bush 43. Country music stations, and especially country music fans stopped playing and buying their music... like instantly! After many years of obscurity, the Dixie Chicks released a new album last week. Heard it was releasing...have heard zero update.  Aaaannnnnddd.... nobody cares! 

Back in January, Harry and Meghan declared their intent to step back as "senior" members of the royal family. They also shared their plans to become financially independent and to split their time between the U.K. and North America. Aaaannnndd... nobody cares! 

The Bachelor season 24 will wrap up this Monday and Tuesday, finally revealing to us all who Pilot Pete either has or hasn't proposed to and what his future may hold. It's an ending that has been described as "unprecedented," and Chris Harrison even claimed that not a single person knows exactly what will happen. Holy crap! 24 years!?? Aaaannnndd...nobody cares! 

On March 3, 2020, Breitbart News reported Biden’s announcement that Beto O’Rourke would be heading up his gun control push.  Biden made clear O’Rourke will “be the one who leads” the gun control agenda.  During a September 12, 2019, Democrat debate, O’Rourke said, “Hell yes, we’re going to take your AR-15, your AK-17.” A threat that was answered by many, including a Governor and a Congressman with, "Go ahead. Try it."  Aaaannnndd....nobody cares! 

My point to all of this is to show that we as an intelligent society have allowed these types of people to believe that they own a controlling stock in our thinking and our way of life. That they in some ridiculously tiny fashion, have any impact in our lives other than pure, mindless entertainment. They truly believe that we give one hoot in hell about them and their supercilious driveling. WHO CARES what Whoopi and them other cackling hens on The View think? Nobody cares! 

Enjoy TV. Enjoy sports. Enjoy talk shows. Enjoy politics, if you have the stomach. But please, please, please remember. YOU think and decide what's right. Don't let these over-paid, under-intelligent, limelight-seeking, drooling idiots blur your vision of what is real and what is fake; what is smart and what is dumb; and what is right and what is wrong. Your mother taught you those things a long time ago. 

Sorry for the length. Aaaannnndd...nobody cares!  

.

...About Misguided Band-Bashing

Well, here we are again. It's time to blow off a little steam about some item or event that aggravates me. Nice thing about having your own blog... you can do that. 

I have been associated in one form or another with Troy University for over 40 years. Dang! Forty years! That term encompasses student, employee, and continuing contractor. In my 40+ years I have seen a lot of changes and a lot of others come and go. The ONE thing that has never changed is the Sound of the South Marching Band. It is the single largest recruiting organization on campus - has been for many, many years. More students come to Troy to play in the Sound of the South than come for any other specific entity on campus. 

The band has always been the premier face of the university. Presidential inaugurations, gubernatorial inaugurations, parades, exhibitions, and many other events including providing support for the football team at games. The band has seen really great teams and very bad teams, and has cheered for them all. The relationship between the band and the athletic department is a close, warm, working-together-for-the-best atmosphere. It is stronger at Troy than at many other universities, and I know people from other places who envy that. 

Another thing the band has always done well is entertain the people. Music that makes you tap your foot, or clap, or even sing! Music is one of a very few things that can turn a mood 180º. It's near impossible to listen to fun music and stay mad about something, or dwell on the negative. 

This past Saturday night was one of those nights where the football atmosphere is hot and exciting, the crowd and the band are in full voice and volume! What an evening. Enhancing the evening is that it is Band Day at Troy. The 20th Annual Band Day! Thirty-one bands from across the region - 1,500+ high school band kids - are at the game to take part. Every note the band plays energizes the end zone filled with band kids to dance and clap and cheer. And, of course, in there will be The Wave. It has become timeless in its ability to actively engage everyone willing to participate throughout the stadium. It is an event that takes place around the world. 

But I suppose, as always, there are those who are never able to take fun for what it is and let it thrive. And so, when The Wave was initiated Saturday night by the Sound, and the crowd of those willing to have fun joined in the cheering, the band was chastised by some pasty, holier-than-thou humbug. (And that's the nicest way I can say that.) Sadly, there was another rock-thrower who even works for the university! Can you imagine a university employee publicly belittling another (larger, more successful) on-campus organization? I guess, really, who cares what some Social Media Manager thinks? Probably the same people who would care what a cell phone salesman thinks. 

I should also note my disappointment that a commenter on the jerk's post noted that the Wave is "very high school." My disappointment is not because she doesn't get the concept of involving 1,500 HS kids in a fun activity just might bring some to Troy; it's that she has deep direct affiliation with the Sound throughout her family and friends. She also has (supposedly) a long love for the band. Nice showing.  But...... I digress. 

I suppose if either of these unhappy bullies were to allow their children to participate, they'd be singing things from the other side of their mouths. Though we will never know, the best we can ask of Chad and Jonathan is to leave the band alone, go stand over there, and try to find something else to do besides bash young people who are NOT drug addicts. They are NOT thugs. They are generally in a higher IQ bracket than non-music students. They function in a way that most could never commit to (Saturday alone was an 11+ hour day in extreme heat which physically took out about a dozen members, including sending 2 to the hospital). 

And guess what??! They do it for 1 credit hour. ONE. SINGLE. FRIKKIN'. CREDIT. HOUR!  

Maybe... just maybe... doing The Wave isn't THAT big a deal. 

Besides, it's just marching band.   

$.02



.

...About Terrible Adults

It has been a while since I've been here. If you're reading this, thank you for stopping in! 

It seems people are becoming worse and worse and worse every day. The things people will do, or say, or condone from their children is becoming more and more appalling. 

Now let's get this out of the way right off the bat. This is NOT going to be a political rant, though I could certainly make it one easily. And that means from or for either camp! But I'm not going to do that. I have friends who share my views and friends who don't. I am not going alienate anyone. I love my friends. I have tried to remain calm and not get swept up in any frenzy. Gonna try to keep being that way. But... I digress.

I saw on the news the other night where a fight broke out in the hallway at a school. Involved? Students AND parents! Can you believe that? Parents fighting in the halls. Some did the "pull-off-your-shirt-and-look-bad" thing. Grown. Adults. You got that? And people wonder why things like the Knockout Game go on. 

It makes me want to regurgitate when I see a news story where we see video of a punk/thug/criminal committing a heinous crime, and the parent is complaining that their little angel did nothing wrong; just needs to be understood and hugged; and it's everydamnbody's fault but the little nare-do-well. Really? REALLY?? It's MY fault your little piece of wasted molecules is committing crimes? 

Last night, I was witness to another such terrible show of asinine adult behavior. 

Some of you know that I work for a school district. Part of my job is to video record School Board meetings for public record. So I am at all of them, and hear all the proceedings. Sometimes it's quite rewarding - someone being honored for a great accomplishment. A student being honored for being the Outstanding Something in the Nation. Sometimes it sucks badly. Like last night... 

Mixed in with some really nice recognitions and such, was a contingent of folks - adults and students - imploring the school board to incorporate a new athletic sport into the district's offerings. It couldn't come at a worse time. The legislature voted that same day on items that will severely affect many districts financially. Now, add the request for a new sports program? Not good timing. And the folks doing the requesting didn't give two-hoots-in-hell about the funding woes. They felt they had an answer for it. They feel that enough people want to come out to watch Lacrosse, that it would pay for itself. Yeah...ok. When the direction of the board's comments swayed from the rose-covered welcoming the crowd wanted to hear, they became jerks. There was rude shouting, booing, heckling -- all being done by the PARENTS of the students in attendance. WHAT THE HELL KIND OF EXAMPLE ARE YOU SETTING?!?! (Sorry for yelling.) 

We wonder why the young people of today feel entitled. We wonder why the young people of today have no respect for authority. We wonder why the young people of today have no sense of responsibility for their actions. This is why. And until those parents start figuring out how badly they are ruining their children, things will only get worse. 

I guess it might stop when young people start deciding their parents have lived long enough and aren't needed anymore.

Damn. 



.

…About Feet.

OK. I haven't been here in a while, and a couple of people have prompted, so here we go. Hang on!

I have marveled for many years at the human. None of us can fathom the intricacies of God's work in creating such a machine. Hundreds of puzzle pieces that connect here to affect some function there to reach the result of this and help us accomplish that. So wonderfully amazing. Whenever I see some program on Discovery or Science or whatever, I am so engrossed in the sheer awesomeness of what we, generally, don't ever think about. That's the part about the inside.

On the outside - more amazement. Though there are exceptions, people have all the same exterior pieces. 2 ears, 2 eyes, 2 arms, 2 legs, a nose, a mouth, a butt… you get the picture. Everybody has the same parts, but how those parts line up, how they look combined, is truly a work of art. I have the same parts as George Clooney and Harrison Ford, but I will admit that I probably don't look quite as good as they. (It's close, but not quite.)

And - Everybody has feet. And 99.9999% of feet are not pretty. And of that 99.9999%, the majority are pretty ugly.

What are you gonna do with those? Sit on a telephone wire?

For many years I have felt that God may have said, "Everybody is going to have something that is ugly. If it's not anything else, it'll be feet." Now I don't know if God really said that or not. I don't pretend to have that type of knowledge. There are those who believe they know God's thoughts or reasons. I think they are full of hooey. If you give them long enough, they usually show their ridiculousness and fakeness. BUT… I digress.

Some of the most beautiful people I have ever known - male and female - have the ugliest feet. I mean swoop-down-outta-the-sky-and-grab-a-fish ugly! And I get that, and it's OK, just please keep them things covered up so we don't have to see 'em!



I won't even get into the conversation about WalMart feet - should be no need. Hopefully there's not any question what them things look like. YUK! "At least hit them things with a wash rag!"  But that is a prime example of what I'm talking about. I'm not sure most people have any sense of what they look like to other people. How can people who have any sense of what looks nice and what doesn't go out in public waving them fins around for the rest of us to try not to look at? I suppose there is a point where some would say, "I just don't care what others think." That's too bad. You should have better friends - someone who will tell you your feets is U-G-L-Y!

OH! Here's one for you:

Them things belong to a famous celebrity! I won't mention names, but she OWNs her OWN network, and if you spell her name backwards, it is the same as a famous Marx brother.

Now some people have been blessed with pretty feet. I know some. Lucky them. I bet they've got stinky pits and belly-button lint. But as I say, there aren't too many.

I'm not trying to be a jerk. I promise. All I'm asking is that we all think a little before we do that foot selfie. Take a good look down and, if you feel like "maybe these are less than desirable", enjoy sporting a really nice, covering sandal. I think it's great to let us all know that the beach vacation is going so wonderfully, but, personally, I'd rather see your smiling face with the waves in the background than your stinky, sandy, tired dogs. Toe nail polish? Not always very effective - see above picture. Maybe put some socks on and leave a little to the imagination. "I bet that's some sexy toes under yonder!"

And, yes, I love flip-flops as much as the next person, but when I go somewhere, I put on topsiders. I'm just sayin'.



.

…About Referees, Rules, and Replacements

Well, hello! Welcome back… It's been a while, but I feel like it's finally time to have a conversation I've been  thinking about for quite some time. 

I think it's time to start holding referees' feet to the fire. 

When video review in football first came around, I was not a big fan. "Don't take out the human factor," I said. "Video will take over the game," I said. "We don't need the annoyance," I said. 

Perhaps I was a bit quick to judge. There have been many occasions where I have been happy to see the replay review change the call. 

Admittedly, it is always a happy thing when that call reversal benefits my own team, but I feel I am honest enough to appreciate getting it right even when it benefits the opponent. This is especially true when it deals with things like "targeting," or a call that could change history. (If you don't get what I mean by that last phrase, it's ok.)  

I have a few friends who are "stripes." My dear friend John is one of the hardest working officials I know. By his character, he strives to call the most near-perfect game he is capable of calling. That's his nature. He couldn't look in the mirror if it were any other way. So, John, Rennie, Dan, et al, please don't flag me for Unsportsmanlike Conduct when I continue my rant. But… I digress. 

If we (editorially) are going to use video replay to determine the outcome of a play, or decide whether or not a player was trying to play dirty, or whether or not it was actually a fumble, we need to use it to confirm whether or not an official is worth having on the field. 

I am not an official; have not done the schooling for it. I am like so many millions of others - an armchair Coach/Quarterback/Referee. What I am is able to see what is going on during a play. Now I know there are many things that official is supposed to be watching. I get that. But when there is a penalty that is so obvious my Great Dane can see it, that's just wrong and the unseeing official should be held accountable. (No, I have no Great Dane, but you get my point.) 

Here comes today's prime example. I am currently watching a bowl game, the very clear underdog is trying to make a game of it. The wide receiver goes long - post pattern to the goal line. The defensive back for We're So Great U is beaten. At the point of the catch it is as clear as well water that the DB is holding the WR's arm. The replay shows two officials looking dead at the play. Neither throws a flag. NEITHER throws a flag! How can you tell ANYONE that there was no foul? How can you tell ANYONE that you didn't see it? That's just pure bad officiating.  

Here's the next point: Rules. Are. Rules. There is no softening of that fact. Rules. Are. Rules.  The rules of any game are the rules of the game and are to be followed. That is how life operates. That's just the way it is. The most asinine statements made every game are: 

* You gotta let 'em play. 

* That wasn't much of a hold. 

* It's gonna be a long game if you're gonna call every little thing. 

* That's a good No-Call. That statement makes me want to instigate violence more than any other. 

If it's a rule that you can't do this or that, when someone does this or that, it's a penalty. Period. Done. Fini. Over. End of conversation. Throw the flag, walk it off, press on.  

So here is my solution to bad officiating. If a replay shows an official blatantly miss a call, or choose to make a no-call on a clear penalty play, on the third occasion, have the official removed from the game and replaced. And this should be a "challengeable" thing. Three strikes and you're out. If you're not going to be efficiently effective, you get to sit out - and with no pay, mind you. Make the calls, correctly, or take a seat.  

And NO calls are above being challenged. I know an official is not going to see every single thing. There are too many things going on. But there are many, many, many things that are not called that are pure ridiculousness. 

Surely this would be fair!  Absolutely nothing less is expected of us in our jobs! 

. 

...About Being Fed Up

Well... Hello again!   It has been a while since I've written anything here. I guess the reason would be that things have just been kinda rocking' along - not perfect, but not too bad. I've never been one to want to write or post every move I make - please refer back to the blog entry "...About Social Media", April of 2012 - so I don't always have that much to say. I'm not interesting enough that my daily occurrences would be compelling reading. The things I do from day to day would seem interesting to some, out of the ordinary to others, and just plain boring to most. But... I digress! 

I am sick to damn death of it, and I can't stand it any longer without blowing off some steam about it. I have had all I can stand of the bullshit about changing our country, and our flag, and our mannerisms, and our religious practices, and our way of dress, and our Driver's License pictures, and every other damn thing about OUR way of life to avoid offending some maniacal religious group that hates our country anyway! We - not me, the editorial "we" - have changed damn near everything about our way of living in this FREE country named The United States of America. And all to appease a bunch of terrorists posing as crying religious fanatics who want to create such a pacifist nation that it will be easy to overthrow and destroy. 

It seems to be working, too. We have become so soft; so swayed by this pacifist, pansy-ass way of thinking, that there are those who are currently feeling sorry for the Boston Marathon bomber and think "maybe he's learned from this and is changed." ARE YOU PEOPLE THAT DAMN STUPID!?! From the time you're old enough to stop peeing in your pants you know what is right and wrong. You know what is acceptable and what is not. I have two brothers, a year apart each from me. I can assure you that none of the three of us could ever have swayed the other to do something he knew was wrong, if he didn't want to do it. Never. And yet, having become so frikkin' "politically correct" and "more accepting of others' beliefs", we have one ridiculously gullible herd of lemmings after another marching right off the damn cliff by espousing some bullshit about how WE need to change to accommodate those with differing feelings. Screw their feelings! If they want to be in this country, be in THIS country. 

The latest I've seen today is that the Catholic School Crosses violate Muslim rights at Catholic University. Apparently, too, there aren't enough prayer rooms for the Muslim students (at this private CATHOLIC institution), so they have to pray in rooms with Christian artifacts and symbols in the room. (Please forgive me, Sister Johanna) TOUGH SHIT! Don't like it? LEAVE.  

English is our language. Learn it or LEAVE. 
Religion is a free right. To believe and practice, or the choice not to practice is a free right. No matter what faith. Don't like that? LEAVE. 
Sexual Preference is a free right. In so much as it doesn't impose itself into another's lifestyle, no problem. Don't like that? LEAVE. 

There are so many other examples like these, but you see what I'm saying. If you don't want to abide by this country's laws, and practices, and beliefs get the hell out! We won't care. We won't miss you. We won't cry when you're gone. There are many, many, many who want to come here to pursue a better life. We don't need your crying, subversive, entitled ass here. 

We have so many, many problems in our country that must be overcome. Those of us who are citizens here have so much work to do already. We have to continue to better our relationships with our neighbors. We have to work very, very hard to improve our race relations and equality; our gender equality; our economic foundation; and our positive influence in raising our children. 

We have a lot of stupid people in our country who "belong" here. We have a boat load of work to do already. But that's our row to hoe. We, the people of this country will work on it, and make mistakes, and work on it some more. We may fight among ourselves, but as they say in south Alabama, "Don't be gettin' all up in the middle of my family!" You fanatic "sumbitches that ain't from 'round here" need to realize this: the people of The United States of America will join together and will whip your ass if you think for a moment that you're going to destroy the freedoms we have. Think not? Look back at the unity of our country on Sept. 11, 2001. We will 2x4 and baseball bat your stupid ass back to the Stone Age. 

And I, for one, think it's just about time. 



.

…About My Name

You know, spelling my last name is not really a "gimme."  I get that. It's spelled M-c-N-e-e-l-e-y. OK, yeah, it's got a bucketful of "E"s in it.  I get that the usual spelling has only two. M-c-N-e-e-l-y.  So when I first meet someone, I could see where they might make a mistake. Once.

I say "Once" because I am very clear on how to spell my name. As soon as someone starts to write it down, I am very clear and helpful. "That's M-c-N-e-e-l-e-y."  Now you have no excuse. I don't have some deep Southern drawl that makes it difficult to understand. I'm not generally one who mumbles. "M-c-N-e-e-l-e-y."  It's pretty easy really.

Through these many years, I have had some very interesting spellings from people who seemed at the time to be pretty intelligent. McNeely, MacNelly, McNealy, MacNealey… You see what I'm saying.  The favorite (not really) of all time: MacKnealy. Where the hell did you get that??!

I also get quite miffed when someone is just lazy. (On the phone) "OK, hold on while I ask Mr. Neely…"  Really?  REALLY?? "Mr. Neely"??  Are you too lazy to give me ALL of my name?  It makes me want to return the favor. "Why of course, Bar, I'll get it for you."  "Sure thing, Mr. Washin, here you go."

It's not just my last name, either. My first name is Paul. Do me a favor… say that aloud a time or two. Paul. Paul.  Does that sound like anything else to you? I surely hope not. Now I worked in radio for many years. I have done public speaking for many years. I have worked as the announcer for a college band program for many years. (Actually I am now in the 19th year!) So I know how to speak.    Now, you please tell me, how does "Paul" sound like anything else??  It doesn't. But I can't tell you how many times I get this:  "Hi, I'm Paul."   "Hi, Tom, nice to meet you."
WHISKEY-TANGO-FOXTROT, OVER?!
How the HELL did you get Tom from Paul? Geez, Louise. Please Pay Attention!

Now here comes the good part of that one. I saw a copy of a letter from one of those moments where the guy said he had spoken with… wait for it… TOM MCKINLEY. Holy shit!! (Sorry.) But… I digress.

I have, in the last two weeks, gotten emails at work from separate folks who, in the body of the  emails, type my name as M-c-N-e-e-l-y, but then send it to me with the spelling of M-c-N-e-e-l-e-y.  (In my best whiny voice) Whyyyy??

I have friends with out-of-the-ordinary last names. My buddy Nick's last name is Efstathiou. Try saying that one correctly!  But try to spell it without practice. Not easy. Lydia's last name is Mitrevski. Not an easy one. But you know what? I spell them correctly. You know why? Because it's important to me. I know how I feel when someone can't get mine right. I don't want to do that to someone else.

So the whole point to my rant is this simple thing: Pay attention to people. When you meet someone, look them in the eye and warmly repeat their name. "Hi, Paul, it's nice to meet you." Be careful to understand. If you don't understand, ask.  I would FAR rather someone ask me to repeat my name than call me Tom McKinley.  I promise you, no one who suffers this same aggravation would think less of you for asking.

Personally, I'd truly appreciate it!



.

...About Social Stupidity

You know, I've been putting this off for a while now, but time is up.  I just can't stand it any longer. It is absolutely ridiculous how many people post one thing after another on social media sites, hoping it will garner large attention, with either HUGE mistakes or just plain STUPID thought. 

Being one of those who reads things for exactly what they say, I am constantly amazed by the lack of attention paid by people making public statements. With the worldwide popularity of Facebook, it just becomes easier and easier for people to be in the public vision. Most of them should not be. 

We begin our look at this foolishness with a post from Facebook. Let's look at several examples of stupid in one poster: 

A.) OK... I will let the artistic freedom flow and overlook that it is in all lowercase; 

B.) Sister Johanna would smack me wall-eyed if I ever spelled God with a lowercase "G." Artistic license or not; 

C.) Sister Damien (not as physically torturous as Sister Johanna) would very pointedly correct me if I spelled a personal pronoun reference to God with a lowercase "H;" 

D.) We are given a period in sentence 1, but not in sentence 2; 

E.) I don't suppose God would appreciate a 120 second deadline; and 

F.) I don't suppose He would consider any miracle a "fav."

Stupid people... Not just once, twice!!    

  

This next one is certifiable proof that my wife doesn't love me. It must be true... She didn't make this next poster her status. ☹

My dad is, obviously, the laziest, non-caring, most slacking mean jerk ever on the face of the planet - all because I didn't post this.  (My father is not on Facebook.) 

My favorite type of stupidity is next. Because we aren't given a comma for clarity, she is saying that "heat assists in reducing weight problems because it makes things expand." We certainly know that what she meant was, "Since heat makes things expand, I'm not heavy, I'm expanded." 

Now before we go any further, let me be very clear. I have the greatest mother, father, siblings, wife, friends, life, etc. in the world. I wish everyone could be as fortunate as I have been. I am also very cool with people posting their belief in and love for God. More and more of that can only be a good thing. I just choose not to post those types of things. It's a personal choice kinda thing. But… I digress! 

Having set the tone of what we're talking about, I will simply share a few more and let you enjoy the stupidity.

My Mmother would be appreciative. 

So much stupidity… so little time. 

I am not trying to be holier-than-thou, or smarter-than-thou, or anything-elser-than-thou. I just get aggravated at people who continually post things with such glaring, ridiculous mistakes. 

Up to this point, I have been complaining about this circumstance from a social media standpoint. Sadly, it is prevalent everywhere. Listen to the news, watch your favorite sitcom, go to church, listen to politicians speak. It's all over and, from what I can tell from many, many of my friends, it's making all of us want to run through the streets screaming, "PLEASE use a damn comma!"  "It's 'ME'… everyone was happy for him and ME!"  "You SAW him… you didn't SEEN him!"  

For many years, people in other countries have put down our country for the way we talk and the way our language works. "Why is there a difference between 'tear' and 'tear'?"  With the brutal way in which so many people butcher the language grammatically, both in speaking and in writing, it's no surprise anyone outside the country would be confused. Hell, obviously the people who were born and raised here are confused! 



.

…About Threats, and Russia, and Fear

I am an American. I am a God-fearing proud American. My brother calls me a zealous patriot. I can handle that. I am a proud retiree from the Army National Guard of the United States of America with 30 years of service to the country I love. I bleed Red, White, and Blue. I get angry at protestors who desecrate my flag. I support their right to protest, not their right to burn my flag. I get fired up at stories of people who feel this country owes them something more than the absolute freedoms they already enjoy and take for granted. I put my hand over my heart during the Star Spangled Banner or the Pledge of Allegiance. I would gladly take nothing more than a 2X4 into defense of this country if I had nothing more. 

And I am scared.  

With the situation in Ukraine moving into a tense hotspot, the president of the United States has threatened Russia. "…there will be consequences…"  Now there are those who will say that statement can be referring to sanctions, or embargoes, or other non-conflict means. And maybe that is what is being implied - BUT - words are what they are… words. And the words used can be taken to mean different things to each person who hears them. And each person decides how they will hear them and how they will respond to them. 

Before I go any farther in this, let me be very clear on something. In this moment, while expressing my concern, I am not going to bash any party, or any individual. I do not like nor agree with many of the things going on in our country right now, but that is my opinion. As I've said before, opinions are like armpits - everybody has a couple and they all stink. I have friends, dear friends, with political views different from mine, and that's okay. It is not my intent to alienate anyone, nor start any argument. 

No matter a person's political preference, or even lack thereof, this type of threatening should shake you to your boots. How can any leader threaten such a massive powerhouse mere days after announcing that our military is going to be gutted. State's National Guard units will be slashed or shut down completely. Those very National Guard units that were originally formed in the 1600s to protect our own shores from invasion and attack. (Spring of 1636 for those who may be wondering.)  Active duty unit levels to be lower than pre-WWII. Hear that again - the military at a lower level of manpower than BEFORE WORLD WAR II.  

This scares the hell out of me. 

Did you watch the Olympics? Did you ever see anyone any scarier than Vladimir Putin? Even when smiling and golf-clapping his own athletes, he looked like a man ready to pull someone's head off their neck with his bare hands. Yes, it was well-reported and pontificated that Russia's Olympic Games were "all about Russia, and all about Putin." He was making a visual statement seen 'round the world. And it was. And it is scary. He has shown on numerous occasions that he is scared of no one, and will do whatever it takes for everyone to know HE is in charge and in control. 

He scares the hell out of me. 
 
I don't know what will happen next. I don't know all the political posturing that may be happening out of sight right now. I don't know how to feel about our chances if something does break out. I DO know that I will begin reading and absorbing more information about the comparisons between our country's power and Russia's power. And I also know that we, as Americans, must become concerned about where our country is going, no matter who is running it. And we must figure out how to save this country, or we will one day lose it. 

And that scares the hell out of me more than anything else.  




. 

...About Cutting Grass

If you are under the age of 35, you might have a clue about what I'm gonna talk about. Now understand, I don't mean this as a slam, but you young 'uns ain't got an inkling about this topic unless you were very lucky or raised on a farm. My older brother has three boys, and I imagine they have cut grass, but not like this... 

The way you made money as a young guy before your first "real" job, was cutting grass. Not your daddy's grass - you did that because you lived under his roof and he told you to. I'm talking about taking your push mower and a gas can and going door to door begging for work. A 12 year old boy was a landscaping business. There were no Dodge Rams pulling a 14' trailer loaded with ZTR tractors, weed eaters, and blowers. It was a kid who wanted to make $5 per yard, $8 if you were really lucky. In our neighborhoods, there were hills and, in those days, the yards were big. Pulling that mower and carrying that 2 or 3 gallon can of gas up hills and down and then cutting a half- or 3/4 acre yard was hot, hard work. Don't expect to get a bottle of water; there was no such thing. If you were polite, the lady of the house might bring out a glass of ice water. Usually, you just drank out of the hose. 

Some of the "higher class" guys had a mower with a side bagger. They would get the jobs you couldn't get without a bagger. The difference was they had to pile the clippings by the street neatly. The advent of plastic trash bags changed that. It took longer to do a yard, but that was the yard you could get $10 for. Those guys sure were lucky. 

It wasn't until I was 47 years old before I had a riding mower... 'scuze me... a "lawn tractor."  Man! What had I been missing!!? I always enjoyed a push mower as an adult. Exercise is truly a good thing. 'Course mostly because I lived on level lots. 

All my years of cutting grass, we lived in a house that was on a hill. The front yard was sweeping all the way around three sides of the house. A pretty good hill, too. The best way (ONLY way) to cut it was to go back and forth, not up and down (if you're a guy you understand). To avoid ruining the mower by having oil run down through the carburetor, you had to keep the oil side of the mower on the low side of the hill. I remember vividly my father yelling at us boys from the porch, "Keep that muffler on the high side!"  I think of that to this day when I cut grass.  But...... I digress! 

I married into my first lawn tractor, and I was in Heaven!  It had a cup holder! How about that?! A cup holder! It was a double-bagger. [I will leave the college-girl-I-dated joke alone.] It is fabulous. My wife and I "fight" over who gets to cut the grass. The only real part of it that's work is emptying the bag. Cool! 

Now comes the stupid part, and what prompted this blog. Our neighbor, Tom-with-the -Better-Homes-and-Gardens yard was (where else?) in his yard the other day. He was talking with his next door neighbor, that-woman-with-several-college-kids. One of said kids was cutting the grass. Tom asked mom about the chugging and sputtering their mower was doing. She said, "I don't know. It's been doing that for a good while." Knowing everything, Tom said he'd look at it. He goes next door, starts looking it over, and notices the double bags on the mower are full. I mean really full. Here it comes: 

Tom:  This grass is hard and rotted. When did you last empty these bags? 
College kid:  What??  Are you supposed to empty them??  

I was totally floored. How could ANY guy not know that??!!  OMG! SMH! WTF! 

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL!!!  Then Tom gets a call from another guy, asking for help. He goes over, and this GROWN ADULT MAN has the same exact issue!  Never, ever has emptied the grass bags! 

I'm not necessarily the smartest guy in the Northern Hemisphere, but even I would have to ask where that grass went and "why are these bags on here?".  

I will never understand stupid people. 




.