...continued from yesterday...Okay, where was I? Oh, I know, I was ranting about all the idiots in the general population, i.e., the American Academy of Pediatrics, who offer ridiculous suggestions about the responsibilities of the public school educators!! As I pointed out yesterday, the pediatricians' organization wishes for schools to not suspend bad-behaving students but calls upon the teachers to maintain classroom-discipline without consequences for bad behavior, teach academics at a level of competency that will meet testing standards and during this joyous (underfunded) journey, teach youngsters 'good manners,' which will qualify as civil behavior!
Across the great State of Illinois, public school districts are held to standards of certification and competency while the State owes these school districts millions of dollars. I have children and grandchildren who teach in public schools from Chicago-to-the Metro-East. Everyone of them and most of their colleagues spend their own monies to subsidize lacking monies for classroom supplies. The State of Illinois squandered two wonderful opportunities to sufficiently fund education dropping the ball through miss-management of toll-way revenues and lottery revenues.
Add to this shameful and disgraceful government the fact that while the Teachers' Retirement Fund has long been one of the most consistent (recipients) of employee contributions they have seen those monies applied to other government projects and now today's teachers must pay a larger percent of salary to the pension fund to support those who are 'in retirement;' won't you follow THAT plan to a logical conclusion!!
Let me offer another take or possibility about our 'civility.' I believe that America has re-defined civility. Rather than give you a definition, I suggest the following: Watch a couple of episodes of the television series, "Cougar Town." Perhaps you will see the episode regarding what name to give a man's penis or as they state, "His Johnson." Perhaps if you view a week's worth of Fox News or MSNBC you can put your mind around our country's 'civil' discourse transformation to our current state of 'haters.' Did you watch the movie industry's Academy Awards; the host, Seth MacFarlane made the following comment, "The only one ever to get into Lincoln's head was John Wilkes Booth." That garbage-statement is not funny and certainly not civil! Oh, you think that I overstate or exaggerate? If that is your take then some entertainer or comedian will get one helluva belly laugh making light of Pearl Harbour or the 911-Attack; just a matter of a tad bit more erosion of the foundation for Better Values.
Come on teachers...Do your job...and while you attempt beware of the uphill battle because parents and government are not doing their jobs!
When I was teenager, my Father placed parameters on 'civility' as I left the house of an evening. He would simply remind me, "Hey boy, don't let your mouth over-load your ass while on the streets and be home before midnight because you don't want me to come looking for you!"
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Some are Clueless!
It was a sixty-second television commercial and actors were performing a skit, which was obviously laced with polite conversational exchanges and elements strongly suggesting good manners. At the conclusion of the bit an acknowledgement came across the T. V. screen: "Civility--Pass it on!" Sponsored by the 'Foundation For Better Values.' I immediately recalled my own youth civility sponsorship for 'better value-manners.' That was my Father who would say such things as, "Hey boy, I'm going to say this just once so pay attention;" or "Boy, straighten up and fly right." Oh, there was that one time, I was sixteen and filled with self-centered importance due to a driver's license and some sport success. I sassed and disrespected my Mother at the supper table, tossed my fork down and left the kitchen. Dad followed me to my bedroom and gave me a backhand across my mouth and told me to go immediately back to the table and apologize to Mom and finish every damn bit of food on the plate." That was one helluva Foundation for Better Values...trouble is we stopped standing and building on that parenting 'foundation!'
Does this societal-parenting scenario sound familiar? A woman gives birth and because of economic woes, she returns to work ASAP...thus the child goes from womb-to-room (Day Care) and potluck nurturing begins. Let's have the teachers give that 'foundation for better values.' Let's put the kid into every activity imaginable and at the end of every season or program we'll give the child a trophy, blow smoke up parent and child's posterior. This will do nothing for the child's foundation values and manners but instead will likely make the youngster think he is special and entitled.
Recently, the American Academy Of Pediatrics released a statement opposing school philosophies of zero-tolerance, which issue suspensions. These medicine-men (women) believe that such suspensions hurt the disruptive non-compliant social misfit. Begging to differ, I contend that the misbehaving student screws up the learning environment for the 'do-right' kid and that's bull crap! You heard me correctly, these well-educated physicians state: "Teachers, along with their responsibility for academic progress are also responsible for teaching children to behave appropriately." The following is a true story, I witnessed it: The East St. Louis high school football coach (1954) said to my Father, "Mr. Roustio, if you convince your boy to spend less time playing basketball and have him come out for my football team, I'll make a man out of him." My Dad looked the coach dead-ass in the eyes and responded, "Let me tell you some thing. You coach your football team and I'll take care of seeing that my boy becomes a man!" Footnote: My Father did not stutter speaking the words! The sixty thousand plus pediatricians who belong to the American Academy for Pediatrics need to pull their heads out of their collective asses and get a clue. Our teachers no longer can use any form of physical punishment, the parents raise hell with local school officials if their kid has too much home work or the coach yells and their kid...and now this organization wishes the teachers to do the parental job of teaching 'civil behavior, good manners and accountability!!
Let me conclude with this opinion. I believe there are many good factors about pre-school and early educational learning opportunities. I believe that school teachers have plenty on their plate meeting academic standards and goals. I believe school teachers are pitifully compensated in America where our government leadership gives 'lip service' to education. I believe that our country-folks have little empathy for supporting education. I surely believe that our nation needs to focus on educating mom and dad because my parents generation is gone and their blueprint for parenting was rejected as my generation attempted to 'pass it on!' TO BE CONTINUED---
Does this societal-parenting scenario sound familiar? A woman gives birth and because of economic woes, she returns to work ASAP...thus the child goes from womb-to-room (Day Care) and potluck nurturing begins. Let's have the teachers give that 'foundation for better values.' Let's put the kid into every activity imaginable and at the end of every season or program we'll give the child a trophy, blow smoke up parent and child's posterior. This will do nothing for the child's foundation values and manners but instead will likely make the youngster think he is special and entitled.
Recently, the American Academy Of Pediatrics released a statement opposing school philosophies of zero-tolerance, which issue suspensions. These medicine-men (women) believe that such suspensions hurt the disruptive non-compliant social misfit. Begging to differ, I contend that the misbehaving student screws up the learning environment for the 'do-right' kid and that's bull crap! You heard me correctly, these well-educated physicians state: "Teachers, along with their responsibility for academic progress are also responsible for teaching children to behave appropriately." The following is a true story, I witnessed it: The East St. Louis high school football coach (1954) said to my Father, "Mr. Roustio, if you convince your boy to spend less time playing basketball and have him come out for my football team, I'll make a man out of him." My Dad looked the coach dead-ass in the eyes and responded, "Let me tell you some thing. You coach your football team and I'll take care of seeing that my boy becomes a man!" Footnote: My Father did not stutter speaking the words! The sixty thousand plus pediatricians who belong to the American Academy for Pediatrics need to pull their heads out of their collective asses and get a clue. Our teachers no longer can use any form of physical punishment, the parents raise hell with local school officials if their kid has too much home work or the coach yells and their kid...and now this organization wishes the teachers to do the parental job of teaching 'civil behavior, good manners and accountability!!
Let me conclude with this opinion. I believe there are many good factors about pre-school and early educational learning opportunities. I believe that school teachers have plenty on their plate meeting academic standards and goals. I believe school teachers are pitifully compensated in America where our government leadership gives 'lip service' to education. I believe that our country-folks have little empathy for supporting education. I surely believe that our nation needs to focus on educating mom and dad because my parents generation is gone and their blueprint for parenting was rejected as my generation attempted to 'pass it on!' TO BE CONTINUED---
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Play Ball !
It happens every spring; pitchers and catchers report to southern training sites and soon after, your favorite Major League Baseball team heads North to begin that annual quest for best. I confess, my first love has always been baseball. Even though I coached basketball for thirty-nine years it is baseball that I find most fascinating with its multi-intricate strategies. The reason for choosing basketball to 'coach' was driven by the higher pay-scale and the fit of my controlling personality to 'mold' players into sharing teammates, which is not a must in the sport of baseball.
There is a grandson from each of our three children's families embracing the baseball sport at various stages. The Howell family (daughter Pam and husband Tim) find their sophomore son Caleb playing right field and leading off for Eastern Illinois University. Connor O'Keefe, Barrington high school freshman, begins official baseball try outs this week, which means daughter Dawn and her husband, Shawn will anxiously await to see if the lefty pitcher makes the team. Finally, the Granite City Roustios, (son Steve and Kathy) engage in that laundry list of activities to raise the incredible amount of monies to support that elite travel baseball team on which, their fourteen year-old son, Jamie will play this spring and summer.
I recall playing my baseball at each of those levels but perhaps with less fan fare and far less financial burden. I note that the off-season preparation for today's baseball hopeful is much more organized and elaborate compared to my personal experience. Although, I did travel to Southern States with my Illinois State University baseball team each spring, I never did prepare all winter long in formal practices because I was also playing basketball. As a youngster, I played youth Little League baseball and high school baseball but I never attended private lessons; not the case with the grandsons. The bulk of my preparation was summer months and endless hours spent playing sandlot baseball or some 'lead-up' game that complimented baseball skill development. Let me explain. If I was not involved in a sandlot baseball game, I was tossing a tennis ball against steps and fielding the rapid ball-return thus developing quick eye-hand coordination. I played endless hours of 'pepper-games. and I was always playing catch with a neighborhood friend, Indian ball with several friends or 'three flies-in' at dusk.
I cannot remember the last time that I drove by an empty sandlot to see boys playing baseball. It seems long ago that I have heard the noise of a wooden bat dropping on a street pavement in our neighborhood. Regardless of the changing preparation methods, I think players today are just as skilled if not more skilled than those of my generation; however, I do have reservations about the modern players' mental toughness and leadership skills; I perceive a 'softness.'
It appears that my wife and I will be heading to the Metro-East area, Chicago and Charleston to see the grandsons on their respective fields' of dreams...hey, great way to spend a summer afternoon; 'Take me out to the ball game!'
There is a grandson from each of our three children's families embracing the baseball sport at various stages. The Howell family (daughter Pam and husband Tim) find their sophomore son Caleb playing right field and leading off for Eastern Illinois University. Connor O'Keefe, Barrington high school freshman, begins official baseball try outs this week, which means daughter Dawn and her husband, Shawn will anxiously await to see if the lefty pitcher makes the team. Finally, the Granite City Roustios, (son Steve and Kathy) engage in that laundry list of activities to raise the incredible amount of monies to support that elite travel baseball team on which, their fourteen year-old son, Jamie will play this spring and summer.
I recall playing my baseball at each of those levels but perhaps with less fan fare and far less financial burden. I note that the off-season preparation for today's baseball hopeful is much more organized and elaborate compared to my personal experience. Although, I did travel to Southern States with my Illinois State University baseball team each spring, I never did prepare all winter long in formal practices because I was also playing basketball. As a youngster, I played youth Little League baseball and high school baseball but I never attended private lessons; not the case with the grandsons. The bulk of my preparation was summer months and endless hours spent playing sandlot baseball or some 'lead-up' game that complimented baseball skill development. Let me explain. If I was not involved in a sandlot baseball game, I was tossing a tennis ball against steps and fielding the rapid ball-return thus developing quick eye-hand coordination. I played endless hours of 'pepper-games. and I was always playing catch with a neighborhood friend, Indian ball with several friends or 'three flies-in' at dusk.
I cannot remember the last time that I drove by an empty sandlot to see boys playing baseball. It seems long ago that I have heard the noise of a wooden bat dropping on a street pavement in our neighborhood. Regardless of the changing preparation methods, I think players today are just as skilled if not more skilled than those of my generation; however, I do have reservations about the modern players' mental toughness and leadership skills; I perceive a 'softness.'
It appears that my wife and I will be heading to the Metro-East area, Chicago and Charleston to see the grandsons on their respective fields' of dreams...hey, great way to spend a summer afternoon; 'Take me out to the ball game!'
Monday, February 25, 2013
Kitchen Smells and other Memories
My Mother was a good cook. I could eat my weight in her roast, carrots, potatoes and gravy. Her Swiss steak with red gravy was outstanding and let me assure you, she could flat-out pie-bake!!
I did not always cheer my Mother's menus, however. When she prepared pigs' feet or liver and onions, I could gag. Later in life, I did develop a taste for the liver dish only to be told by my doctor that liver was not a good healthy choice. It was during those gag meals that I became fascinated with my Father's eating habits. He would gnaw on the limited amount of meat on pigtails / pigs' feet as if it was Memphis-style barbecue baby back ribs. My Father ate any thing and every thing that my Mother put on a plate in front of the man and he appeared to like it all! Never once did I hear my Father complain about a meal. As I observed my Dad's appreciation for any foods, I realized that this was a man who had been hungry a-time-or-two in his life. Perhaps hunger was part of his youth and I am guessing that once or twice in his two-year World War II military stint, my Dad's stomach growled and ached for a home-cooked meal.
Back in our early married years, my wife would occasionally ask if her cooking measured up to Mother's meals. I assured her and others that my wife is an excellent cook, in fact she surpasses Mother with some dishes. However, she never could produce a baked pie like Mother Lucille. When my Mother moved into independent and assisted living quarters for her final nine years, my wife would often take my Mother home-cooked dishes from Decatur-to-Edwardsville; a two-hour trip because she knew how much her mother-in law loved certain meals. Let's be honest, institutional cooking, at best, is institutional cooking.
I must cut this message short. I am headed to the grocery store; my wife wants ingredients to make chicken and 'homemade' dumplings. I have never told my wife that maternal grandmother, Mammy Bennett made the best dumplings and I do not intend to ever broach that subject!
My Father has been gone nearly nineteen years and Mother Lucille passed just two months ago; sure wish I was watching Dad eat a piece of Mom's coconut cream pie...oh, those precious memories, how they linger! I had a personal realization during a conversation last evening with my son. We talked for several minutes and before hanging up, he said, "Dad, I want to ask a serious question, how are you doing since Mamaw's (my Mother's) death?" I spoke honestly saying, "Not good; all those years since my Father's passing, I telephoned my Mother (every day) believing that I was filling a bit of a void for her and making her feel good with conversation. Come to find out, it was I who was the benefactor and I miss those conversations terribly!" At some moment each day, I feel that some thing is left undone; soon I realize why I have that barren emptiness feeling.
I did not always cheer my Mother's menus, however. When she prepared pigs' feet or liver and onions, I could gag. Later in life, I did develop a taste for the liver dish only to be told by my doctor that liver was not a good healthy choice. It was during those gag meals that I became fascinated with my Father's eating habits. He would gnaw on the limited amount of meat on pigtails / pigs' feet as if it was Memphis-style barbecue baby back ribs. My Father ate any thing and every thing that my Mother put on a plate in front of the man and he appeared to like it all! Never once did I hear my Father complain about a meal. As I observed my Dad's appreciation for any foods, I realized that this was a man who had been hungry a-time-or-two in his life. Perhaps hunger was part of his youth and I am guessing that once or twice in his two-year World War II military stint, my Dad's stomach growled and ached for a home-cooked meal.
Back in our early married years, my wife would occasionally ask if her cooking measured up to Mother's meals. I assured her and others that my wife is an excellent cook, in fact she surpasses Mother with some dishes. However, she never could produce a baked pie like Mother Lucille. When my Mother moved into independent and assisted living quarters for her final nine years, my wife would often take my Mother home-cooked dishes from Decatur-to-Edwardsville; a two-hour trip because she knew how much her mother-in law loved certain meals. Let's be honest, institutional cooking, at best, is institutional cooking.
I must cut this message short. I am headed to the grocery store; my wife wants ingredients to make chicken and 'homemade' dumplings. I have never told my wife that maternal grandmother, Mammy Bennett made the best dumplings and I do not intend to ever broach that subject!
My Father has been gone nearly nineteen years and Mother Lucille passed just two months ago; sure wish I was watching Dad eat a piece of Mom's coconut cream pie...oh, those precious memories, how they linger! I had a personal realization during a conversation last evening with my son. We talked for several minutes and before hanging up, he said, "Dad, I want to ask a serious question, how are you doing since Mamaw's (my Mother's) death?" I spoke honestly saying, "Not good; all those years since my Father's passing, I telephoned my Mother (every day) believing that I was filling a bit of a void for her and making her feel good with conversation. Come to find out, it was I who was the benefactor and I miss those conversations terribly!" At some moment each day, I feel that some thing is left undone; soon I realize why I have that barren emptiness feeling.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Some Things You Gotta Buy
Thank goodness my grandparents are not around to see today's prime time television programs! Back in the mid-fifties, we had 'Leave It To Beaver' today, unsolved who's YOUR daddy is the DNA theme for The Maury Povich Show. 'American Bandstand' (1954) gave us a glimpse of teens dancing and strolling to pop songs. In 2013, I see more than a glimpse of half-naked (scantily dressed) gals rub against male partners on 'Dancing with the Stars' with my wife and grandkids in the same room.
I personally laugh my butt off at the sitcom 'Two and a Half Men' but I can't imagine that it airs at the traditional family television viewing time of seven o'clock! Two & a-Half Men themes completely ignore subtleties or innuendos; it is suggestive soft porn. Today's reality T.V. shows confirms the below average brainpower of the American public. What could possibly be further from reality than a Bachelor dating twelve women and dramatically dismissing them one-by-one until he chooses a chick to whom he proposes, on the final episode, in a conveniently allotted length of time, which coincides with a television series season's end. What snappy-neat timing!
Commercials bring both good news/bad news. The good news lies in the fact that within a thirty-minute television program we now have 12 minutes of commercial advertising, which leaves only 18-minutes needed for goofy plotted one-liners filled with canned laughter programming. We are pestered to consume, consume and then consume more. If we acted on even a small percent of the television ad-pitches, we would be a bunch of obese fat asses with drug addictions; whoops!...come to think, we are fast approaching both markers! Most young people would find it difficult to believe that back in day occupations such as medical doctors and attorneys were far too professionally pristine to stoop to the tawdry elements of 'advertising' as a means to stimulate business! I recently had a family doctor tell me that thirty percent of his prescription writing is the result of patients requesting 'some drug' seen on television.
A couple years ago, I heard a sweet voice pitch on television that suggested that I should contact the Heritage Plan to send money and take care of my own funeral plans-costs. I thought at the time, I won't do that!! I may plan for a vacation and I may pay for and pump my own gas but my kids can take care of the internment of my ass!
Lo' and behold!...Last summer, Gerry and I made our final funeral arrangements and paid for the privilege! Cody & Sons Funeral Home (Jacksonville) gets Mel because they promised to make me 'look good for once 'and Williamson-Airsman-Hires Funeral Home is tabbed by Gerry; she said she wishes only to spread the business in Jacksonville. Both of us will be delivered to Sunset Hill Cemetery (Edwardsville, Illinois) and placed in newly constructed outdoor mausoleum; east side; third row up at Northeast corner 'slip.'
Come visit us in Decatur before we move!
I wonder if some of us can become bit-actors on hit series, 'The Walking Dead?'
I personally laugh my butt off at the sitcom 'Two and a Half Men' but I can't imagine that it airs at the traditional family television viewing time of seven o'clock! Two & a-Half Men themes completely ignore subtleties or innuendos; it is suggestive soft porn. Today's reality T.V. shows confirms the below average brainpower of the American public. What could possibly be further from reality than a Bachelor dating twelve women and dramatically dismissing them one-by-one until he chooses a chick to whom he proposes, on the final episode, in a conveniently allotted length of time, which coincides with a television series season's end. What snappy-neat timing!
Commercials bring both good news/bad news. The good news lies in the fact that within a thirty-minute television program we now have 12 minutes of commercial advertising, which leaves only 18-minutes needed for goofy plotted one-liners filled with canned laughter programming. We are pestered to consume, consume and then consume more. If we acted on even a small percent of the television ad-pitches, we would be a bunch of obese fat asses with drug addictions; whoops!...come to think, we are fast approaching both markers! Most young people would find it difficult to believe that back in day occupations such as medical doctors and attorneys were far too professionally pristine to stoop to the tawdry elements of 'advertising' as a means to stimulate business! I recently had a family doctor tell me that thirty percent of his prescription writing is the result of patients requesting 'some drug' seen on television.
A couple years ago, I heard a sweet voice pitch on television that suggested that I should contact the Heritage Plan to send money and take care of my own funeral plans-costs. I thought at the time, I won't do that!! I may plan for a vacation and I may pay for and pump my own gas but my kids can take care of the internment of my ass!
Lo' and behold!...Last summer, Gerry and I made our final funeral arrangements and paid for the privilege! Cody & Sons Funeral Home (Jacksonville) gets Mel because they promised to make me 'look good for once 'and Williamson-Airsman-Hires Funeral Home is tabbed by Gerry; she said she wishes only to spread the business in Jacksonville. Both of us will be delivered to Sunset Hill Cemetery (Edwardsville, Illinois) and placed in newly constructed outdoor mausoleum; east side; third row up at Northeast corner 'slip.'
Come visit us in Decatur before we move!
I wonder if some of us can become bit-actors on hit series, 'The Walking Dead?'
Thursday, February 21, 2013
My Riches Are Infinite
As an adolescent growing up in 'Blue Collar' East St. Louis, Illinois, I soon came to understand what the phrase, 'keeping up with the Joneses' meant. My devout Christian grandmother, Mammy Bennett explained using the Commandment: "Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's house, thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbor's." As a teenager, I was content / even happy to drive the 1950 family Chevy in the year 1956 and wear regular jeans instead of the latest 'cord' pegged-pants. If I could earn $4.00 working all day Saturday at my aunt's grocery store, I was happy as a pig-in-a-sty because I had date money. Thank goodness, I didn't date the Jones girl.
I married well. My wife was never excited about nor driven by material desires. I believe she understood that she married the 'pig' and she would attempt to keep our sty clean and presentable.
Today, I look out my front door and notice one neighbor has a $85,000.00 boat, another has a BMW and three of my close friends leave every winter for Florida dwellings. All of my contemporaries grandchildren seem to drive late model automobiles and are understood to have the latest technology devices. Somewhere along the line that 'covet commandment' lost some volume!
On a personal note, I had my six months med-check with the family doctor yesterday and my medical test reports cause me shame to even briefly 'wish or covet' any thing! I have transitioned through life without those superficial designer tags that are seemingly desired by many as if designating one to a higher status. Today, at this scaffold in my life, I would not have the energy nor inclination to covet any thing other than a continuation of my own good kismet!
I should 'come-clean' with one minor coveting confession; a shady spot in my backyard come this spring after working up a grass-cutting sweat. I can close my eyes, right now and feel the breeze as I sit on my swing with poodle,"Yodie" and eat peanuts I just poured into a bottle of Pepsi.
Whoa, Nellie!
Should I buy Polo brand shirts then I allow Ralph Lauren to define me...as a fool!
I married well. My wife was never excited about nor driven by material desires. I believe she understood that she married the 'pig' and she would attempt to keep our sty clean and presentable.
Today, I look out my front door and notice one neighbor has a $85,000.00 boat, another has a BMW and three of my close friends leave every winter for Florida dwellings. All of my contemporaries grandchildren seem to drive late model automobiles and are understood to have the latest technology devices. Somewhere along the line that 'covet commandment' lost some volume!
On a personal note, I had my six months med-check with the family doctor yesterday and my medical test reports cause me shame to even briefly 'wish or covet' any thing! I have transitioned through life without those superficial designer tags that are seemingly desired by many as if designating one to a higher status. Today, at this scaffold in my life, I would not have the energy nor inclination to covet any thing other than a continuation of my own good kismet!
I should 'come-clean' with one minor coveting confession; a shady spot in my backyard come this spring after working up a grass-cutting sweat. I can close my eyes, right now and feel the breeze as I sit on my swing with poodle,"Yodie" and eat peanuts I just poured into a bottle of Pepsi.
Whoa, Nellie!
Should I buy Polo brand shirts then I allow Ralph Lauren to define me...as a fool!
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Coffee With The Boys; Not My Cup Of Tea
Once in awhile, my wife encourages me to hook up with fellas for morning coffee or lunch with 'old' friends. I keep assuring her that whereas she enjoys such gatherings, I have never been big on that kinda social mixer mentality. Don't get me wrong, I like to have conversations with folks and laugh or swap stories; I just don't wish to be routinely committed and predictable beginning each day at the 'coffee shop' with the guys. I suppose a tad bit of maternal grandfather E. V. Bennett's DNA is deep in my soul; Old E. V. didn't cotton much to such assemblies and neither do I.
Actually, I find more enjoyment spending time recording music for friends, writing notes to kids and grandkids and listening to people with opposing views, i. e., Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh. I always learned more from those I viewed as adversaries than advocates. I recall when Barrack Obama came on the national political scene and Rush Limbaugh made fun of Obama's ears. Of course Rush's attention to Obama's ears got him away from ranting giggles about Senator John Kerry's head size.
Keep in focus that Limbaugh is the 'mouthpiece' for the GOP; the party,which pontificates Christian-Family Values! Every Republican candidate embraces Limbaugh's endorsement and ignores his UN-Christian like comments while they talk about their own love for Jesus and Judea-Christian principles. I cannot imagine Jesus poking fun of another's physical appearance.
Perhaps herein lies my unwillingness to 'coffee' with the boys each morning. You expect that such aforementioned topics would commence at morning coffee gatherings. You all have come to 'know' me well enough that it is understood I cannot keep my opinions to myself. Come now, I am going to 'piss-off' many of the Java-drinking-Joeys with my comments. Those fellas don't need me screwing up the start of each day and if I stay away, I'll continue to imagine that all the old-boys 'think' as I.
Let me tell you another negative aspect to these morning-senior-coffee-gatherings. A few years ago, a buddy of mine went to a local coffee shop with a bunch of 'old cronies.' My friend signed some document being passed around, which he thought was a parachute club application. The fool didn't have his eye glasses and when he got back home his wife asked, "What the hell is this 'prostitute club application form' doing on the kitchen table?"
I must stop now. 'Yodie,' our toy poodle just brought his 'squeaky-duck' to me. I shall leave this typing machine and go play duck-keep-away game with my best friend; beats hell out of any coffee clutch moment.
Actually, I find more enjoyment spending time recording music for friends, writing notes to kids and grandkids and listening to people with opposing views, i. e., Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh. I always learned more from those I viewed as adversaries than advocates. I recall when Barrack Obama came on the national political scene and Rush Limbaugh made fun of Obama's ears. Of course Rush's attention to Obama's ears got him away from ranting giggles about Senator John Kerry's head size.
Keep in focus that Limbaugh is the 'mouthpiece' for the GOP; the party,which pontificates Christian-Family Values! Every Republican candidate embraces Limbaugh's endorsement and ignores his UN-Christian like comments while they talk about their own love for Jesus and Judea-Christian principles. I cannot imagine Jesus poking fun of another's physical appearance.
Perhaps herein lies my unwillingness to 'coffee' with the boys each morning. You expect that such aforementioned topics would commence at morning coffee gatherings. You all have come to 'know' me well enough that it is understood I cannot keep my opinions to myself. Come now, I am going to 'piss-off' many of the Java-drinking-Joeys with my comments. Those fellas don't need me screwing up the start of each day and if I stay away, I'll continue to imagine that all the old-boys 'think' as I.
Let me tell you another negative aspect to these morning-senior-coffee-gatherings. A few years ago, a buddy of mine went to a local coffee shop with a bunch of 'old cronies.' My friend signed some document being passed around, which he thought was a parachute club application. The fool didn't have his eye glasses and when he got back home his wife asked, "What the hell is this 'prostitute club application form' doing on the kitchen table?"
I must stop now. 'Yodie,' our toy poodle just brought his 'squeaky-duck' to me. I shall leave this typing machine and go play duck-keep-away game with my best friend; beats hell out of any coffee clutch moment.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Greed Can Be Insulting!
Yesterday was my seventy-fourth birthday. It was a low key celebration as it should be. I got out of bed at 6:30AM, let the toy poodle out and made breakfast for my wife and I. Each morning, Gerry and I have our cereal, juice and coffee in our bedroom and share newspaper sections while the television news offers background sounds.
At 8:00 AM, I did some shopping. At Wal Mart, I noted that only three of 26 checkout lanes were open to customers and one of those lanes was for 20 or fewer items, another for tobacco products; leaving ONE open lane for anyone not wanting cigars or holding more than 20 items. However, I did notice that there were eight other stations called 'self-service' lanes. You have seen them! You, the customer, scan each item, bag all items and then pay electronically. This self-service gimmick is successful and profitable for the major oil companies around the corner from your home where you buy gasoline for your automobile.
I do not need my university degrees or acquired senior-wisdom from seventy-four years to connect the bogus dots of the late President Reagan's wonderful 'trickle-down' economic theory. I believe it goes something like this: If our government gives more corporate tax breaks and holds tight to escalating workers minimum wages and workers' benefits, i.e. Wal Mart, then those business folks (corporations) will use these profits and create more employment opportunities for America's Mr. & Mrs. Joe Average. If one does not see this for the bull crap it is then one is either brain dead or in a state of denial!
This Wednesday, my wife and I will go to our family doctor's office for a six-months' med-check. My wife will use the automated electronic patients' self-service check-in devise; I WILL NOT! Instead, I shall walk to the service desk and allow or if you wish, require the receptionist to check me in. I will be doing my small part to insure that the receptionist keep her job and paycheck. I know damn good and well that my family doctor, whom I truly like, is a tight-ass...the only thing that is going to trickle down from the good doctor is the same stuff that trickles down from seventy-four year old men, however we will not discuss that just now.
My birthday supper/dinner was terrific. I tried my hand at making a 'Cola Pot Roast.' It consisted of a chuck roast, potatoes, carrots, and onions with a mixture of Coke, French onion soup and mushroom soup poured over the concoction and cooked for six hours in a crock pot. Good vittles.
I thank all who sent birthday wishes and especially, Anna Barton-Dunlap, who as a young Edwardsville high school student served as our 1975-76, basketball-team statistician. My wife says that Anna was the sweetest kid from our many basketball families over thirty-seven years. I'll second that 'emotion!'
At 8:00 AM, I did some shopping. At Wal Mart, I noted that only three of 26 checkout lanes were open to customers and one of those lanes was for 20 or fewer items, another for tobacco products; leaving ONE open lane for anyone not wanting cigars or holding more than 20 items. However, I did notice that there were eight other stations called 'self-service' lanes. You have seen them! You, the customer, scan each item, bag all items and then pay electronically. This self-service gimmick is successful and profitable for the major oil companies around the corner from your home where you buy gasoline for your automobile.
I do not need my university degrees or acquired senior-wisdom from seventy-four years to connect the bogus dots of the late President Reagan's wonderful 'trickle-down' economic theory. I believe it goes something like this: If our government gives more corporate tax breaks and holds tight to escalating workers minimum wages and workers' benefits, i.e. Wal Mart, then those business folks (corporations) will use these profits and create more employment opportunities for America's Mr. & Mrs. Joe Average. If one does not see this for the bull crap it is then one is either brain dead or in a state of denial!
This Wednesday, my wife and I will go to our family doctor's office for a six-months' med-check. My wife will use the automated electronic patients' self-service check-in devise; I WILL NOT! Instead, I shall walk to the service desk and allow or if you wish, require the receptionist to check me in. I will be doing my small part to insure that the receptionist keep her job and paycheck. I know damn good and well that my family doctor, whom I truly like, is a tight-ass...the only thing that is going to trickle down from the good doctor is the same stuff that trickles down from seventy-four year old men, however we will not discuss that just now.
My birthday supper/dinner was terrific. I tried my hand at making a 'Cola Pot Roast.' It consisted of a chuck roast, potatoes, carrots, and onions with a mixture of Coke, French onion soup and mushroom soup poured over the concoction and cooked for six hours in a crock pot. Good vittles.
I thank all who sent birthday wishes and especially, Anna Barton-Dunlap, who as a young Edwardsville high school student served as our 1975-76, basketball-team statistician. My wife says that Anna was the sweetest kid from our many basketball families over thirty-seven years. I'll second that 'emotion!'
Monday, February 18, 2013
Them That Gots are Them That Gets
There is lyrics to a song entitled, "Love Makes the World Go Around." I would have an opposing contention to that premise. My contrary thought is that love has absolutely nothing to do with the traveling-direction of this world, however if we find love, we will be unconcerned about the world's destination.
Personally, I find another quote or saying more interesting. It is frequently reported that circus owner, P. T. Barnum once said, "There's a sucker born every minute." Perhaps the saying is justified, however it was not P.T. who said it but instead it was uttered by George Hull, a competitor of Barnum's. I am convinced that both love and 'gullibility' run dual rails in the human DNA.
Making the case for gullibility, I offer those 'chain' letters that seemed frequent in my mail box years ago. I suppose on three different occasions, I sent my dollar bill to the first name on those lists and I am still waiting for my million dollars to roll-in; shows to go that U. S. Postal service is slow.
Love will often times serve as a catalyst to gullibility. I saw young guys with dates at summer carnivals 'throw away' good money trying to knock down those bottles or get that ring toss over the bottle so they might 'win' that coveted stuffed animal for their sweetie.
Once while working at my father's restaurant, I closed late at night and when I was walking across the parking lot at 1:00 A.M. a gentleman sped into the lot and motioned to me. He was wanting to sell me a 'hot' diamond ring. Perhaps I could have made a good buy and then again my gullibility urge could have been a 'fools-purchase;' I didn't bite that time. A few years later, I did allow my gullibility taste to motivate a 'hot' jewelry buy outside Soulard's Market in South St. Louis and for a mere fifty bucks, I did very well.
Politicians garner many votes from the gullible public. Those politicians 'pander' to our group and we like their stroking; makes us feel important, therefore we support that person running for office. I spoke of our family restaurant earlier and I can tell you that restaurants 'could' purchase 'pressed' meats and sell it for steaks at a significant profit margin. However, as Abe once said, "You may fool all of the people some of the time, you can even fool some of the people all of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all the time." I suppose the restaurant's gamble is predicated on the speculation of which group of fools eat out most often or finding out the percentage of Americans with a sensitive 'gag-reflex!'
I just wish that the federal government would offer once again a 'stimulus' rebate that they believe would encourage consumers to buy. Heavens, I'd gas-up the motor home and head to the casinos in Tunica, Mississippi and 'really' make some money!
Personally, I find another quote or saying more interesting. It is frequently reported that circus owner, P. T. Barnum once said, "There's a sucker born every minute." Perhaps the saying is justified, however it was not P.T. who said it but instead it was uttered by George Hull, a competitor of Barnum's. I am convinced that both love and 'gullibility' run dual rails in the human DNA.
Making the case for gullibility, I offer those 'chain' letters that seemed frequent in my mail box years ago. I suppose on three different occasions, I sent my dollar bill to the first name on those lists and I am still waiting for my million dollars to roll-in; shows to go that U. S. Postal service is slow.
Love will often times serve as a catalyst to gullibility. I saw young guys with dates at summer carnivals 'throw away' good money trying to knock down those bottles or get that ring toss over the bottle so they might 'win' that coveted stuffed animal for their sweetie.
Once while working at my father's restaurant, I closed late at night and when I was walking across the parking lot at 1:00 A.M. a gentleman sped into the lot and motioned to me. He was wanting to sell me a 'hot' diamond ring. Perhaps I could have made a good buy and then again my gullibility urge could have been a 'fools-purchase;' I didn't bite that time. A few years later, I did allow my gullibility taste to motivate a 'hot' jewelry buy outside Soulard's Market in South St. Louis and for a mere fifty bucks, I did very well.
Politicians garner many votes from the gullible public. Those politicians 'pander' to our group and we like their stroking; makes us feel important, therefore we support that person running for office. I spoke of our family restaurant earlier and I can tell you that restaurants 'could' purchase 'pressed' meats and sell it for steaks at a significant profit margin. However, as Abe once said, "You may fool all of the people some of the time, you can even fool some of the people all of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all the time." I suppose the restaurant's gamble is predicated on the speculation of which group of fools eat out most often or finding out the percentage of Americans with a sensitive 'gag-reflex!'
I just wish that the federal government would offer once again a 'stimulus' rebate that they believe would encourage consumers to buy. Heavens, I'd gas-up the motor home and head to the casinos in Tunica, Mississippi and 'really' make some money!
Friday, February 15, 2013
Lucky and Blessed
Perhaps because of Valentine's Day, I had these thoughts as I fell asleep last night: My wife and I will celebrate 53 years of marriage this coming June 11. If we count celebrated 'Valentine Days' then yesterday marked sixty of those 'Be Mine' card exchanges; that's right we became sweethearts at ages fourteen and thirteen, respectively after being introduced (1953) at the Colony Sweetshop at 40th & Waverly Streets, East St. Louis, Illinois.
Our love story was an unlikely one. Gerry was the youngest of three daughters among six siblings raised in a devout Roman Catholic family. I was the oldest of three boys from a more reserved Methodist clan. When we were dating, I often told Gerry that it was easier being Catholic than Methodist because she had the 'confessional' in the back of her mind whereas I had the voice of my staunch religious maternal grandmother, Mammy in my head saying, "Remember Jesus is returning a second time so best you not be lost in some sinful act should HE COME TONIGHT!"
Sometimes when I have difficulty falling to sleep, I will recite song lyrics as I lay in bed; so much more enjoyable than counting sheep. Last night, I recalled and recited an old Mills Brother's song that goes something like this:
If I had my way dear forever there be
a garden of roses for you and for me,
A thousand and one things dear I would do
just for you only you.
If I had my way we would never grown old
and sunshine I'd bring everyday,
You would reign all alone like a Queen on a throne
If I had my way.
If I could I would ask Christ two questions should I ever see him face-to-face: Did you hear my many prayers thanking you for my sweetheart? And Why were you so good to me?
Our love story was an unlikely one. Gerry was the youngest of three daughters among six siblings raised in a devout Roman Catholic family. I was the oldest of three boys from a more reserved Methodist clan. When we were dating, I often told Gerry that it was easier being Catholic than Methodist because she had the 'confessional' in the back of her mind whereas I had the voice of my staunch religious maternal grandmother, Mammy in my head saying, "Remember Jesus is returning a second time so best you not be lost in some sinful act should HE COME TONIGHT!"
Sometimes when I have difficulty falling to sleep, I will recite song lyrics as I lay in bed; so much more enjoyable than counting sheep. Last night, I recalled and recited an old Mills Brother's song that goes something like this:
If I had my way dear forever there be
a garden of roses for you and for me,
A thousand and one things dear I would do
just for you only you.
If I had my way we would never grown old
and sunshine I'd bring everyday,
You would reign all alone like a Queen on a throne
If I had my way.
If I could I would ask Christ two questions should I ever see him face-to-face: Did you hear my many prayers thanking you for my sweetheart? And Why were you so good to me?
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Ambition and Family Keeps One Busy
Once upon a time, my work and social calendar was filled as I coached, held coaching seminars, traveled the country on speaking engagements, conducted two weekly radio shows and served a school district as an athletics administrator. It was not an overstatement to claim that I could keep several balls in the air at-a-time. Now at age seventy-four, with brain-cells abandoning ship it is fair to say, I can't even find my balls!
This week however, I do find my 'dance card' filled. Monday past, my wife and I traveled to the St. Louis area to stay overnight and position ourselves to drive our SIUE grandson to Barnes Hospital (St. Louis) for 7A.M. test on Tuesday. We returned to Decatur Tuesday evening in time for me to make a presentation that night at the Decatur School Board meeting. Today, we travel to Covington, Indiana to pay final respects to the father of my long-time assistant coach and friend, Ken Hickman. Friday morning, I have a breakfast meeting to discuss a Decatur School District's recommendation to petition the Central State Eight Conference for membership. Friday at noon, I have a luncheon with an architect and a project manager to discuss a baseball park project-proposal that I am awaiting to be approved. After that meeting, my wife and I will get haircuts at 2:30 P.M. and directly thereafter travel to Jacksonville to watch cheerleader-granddaughter, Erica in her high school activities' final 'Senior Recognition Night.'
The next morning (Saturday) twelve members of the extended clan will meet at Lincoln's Museum at noon and adjourn to a Springfield restaurant at 4:15P.M. to celebrate some family birthdays! Some of these folks will follow us back to Decatur and spend the night. I am sure that Sunday will find us at Cracker Barrel for a brunch because our oldest daughter does not have a Cracker Barrel in South Barrington and she freaks-out anytime she drives by the eatery!
Did I tell you that my schedule is so filled that I had to take my sweetheart out for Valentine's last night a day before February 14. Actually, my daughter took US out. When I asked for our dinner-check, I discovered our daughter, Dawn had covered our meal ahead of time. Folks, we obviously share too much information with our kids. Although, they also share too frequently and unfortunately very candidly! Sometimes, our kids are too candid! Let me elaborate. My son telephoned me yesterday and we were taking about the pros and cons of coaching his own sons in high school basketball; those triplet-boys enter that high school level this fall. My son said, "You probably won't be here to see the boys play for me blah, blah.." Crap! When he spoke those words, I was walking on the treadmill and I thought, Why the hell am I doing this!!! I have one approach: I plan to live forever; so far so good!
This week however, I do find my 'dance card' filled. Monday past, my wife and I traveled to the St. Louis area to stay overnight and position ourselves to drive our SIUE grandson to Barnes Hospital (St. Louis) for 7A.M. test on Tuesday. We returned to Decatur Tuesday evening in time for me to make a presentation that night at the Decatur School Board meeting. Today, we travel to Covington, Indiana to pay final respects to the father of my long-time assistant coach and friend, Ken Hickman. Friday morning, I have a breakfast meeting to discuss a Decatur School District's recommendation to petition the Central State Eight Conference for membership. Friday at noon, I have a luncheon with an architect and a project manager to discuss a baseball park project-proposal that I am awaiting to be approved. After that meeting, my wife and I will get haircuts at 2:30 P.M. and directly thereafter travel to Jacksonville to watch cheerleader-granddaughter, Erica in her high school activities' final 'Senior Recognition Night.'
The next morning (Saturday) twelve members of the extended clan will meet at Lincoln's Museum at noon and adjourn to a Springfield restaurant at 4:15P.M. to celebrate some family birthdays! Some of these folks will follow us back to Decatur and spend the night. I am sure that Sunday will find us at Cracker Barrel for a brunch because our oldest daughter does not have a Cracker Barrel in South Barrington and she freaks-out anytime she drives by the eatery!
Did I tell you that my schedule is so filled that I had to take my sweetheart out for Valentine's last night a day before February 14. Actually, my daughter took US out. When I asked for our dinner-check, I discovered our daughter, Dawn had covered our meal ahead of time. Folks, we obviously share too much information with our kids. Although, they also share too frequently and unfortunately very candidly! Sometimes, our kids are too candid! Let me elaborate. My son telephoned me yesterday and we were taking about the pros and cons of coaching his own sons in high school basketball; those triplet-boys enter that high school level this fall. My son said, "You probably won't be here to see the boys play for me blah, blah.." Crap! When he spoke those words, I was walking on the treadmill and I thought, Why the hell am I doing this!!! I have one approach: I plan to live forever; so far so good!
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Will Rogers-Cable News Guy?
It was the lovable, wisecracking humorist of the early 1900's, Will Rogers, who often said, "All I know is what I read in the newspaper." If Will Rogers were alive and dependent upon the printed news to deliver his knowledge today, he'd be a a peck of trouble. It is not only the postal service that is used less frequently by the American consumer but also fast-approaching extinction is the printed news-'paper' source. We Americans gather our informational needs via the social-media network found in this amazing 21st century-electronic age. I still read two newspapers every day as I consume a couple cups of coffee; both the coffee and newspaper gets my motor running of a morning.
Please, if you will, consider other social-media impact! The social-media phenomenon has drastically altered our professional medical services. Once upon a time, my folks would telephone the family doctor, provided the telephone 'party-line' was 'open' and tell the doc that their boy was sick. The good doctor would make a house call and check the boy out. Today, I can 'go on line' and give symptoms and the medical person at the other end responds with advise or prescriptions; sometimes both. I still enjoy my doctor 'visits' if for no other reason but to debate our opposing political views and you know that we have them.
My Busey branch bank, two blocks from my house, sent notification that they are closing. The explanation is more people are doing their 'banking/bill paying online.' I must now travel six blocks to a sister branch bank and I will; I have enjoy making the acquaintance of many nice bank employees over the years. I must now cultivate new service folks or go 'online' and become one of the numbers at Busey.
Two weeks ago, I was at the nearby shopping mall and noticed two more shops, which are closing. One shop owner said that their company is doing great business these days but most of the purchases are made via the Internet. Do you remember the movie, 'Christmas Vacation' starring Chevy Chase? Recall that funny scene when Clark Griswald is being waited on by a shapely and sexy lingerie clerk who shows much of her leg while showing the intimate apparel? Sure you do because Clark is 'caught' looking by his son, Rusty.That scene will never happen to another gent if 'online' shopping totally replaces the retail salesperson!
Americans are most fortunate today because the social media jungle has the 24/7 cable news networks, which are much more helpful than the printed news. These cable stations hire 'pundits' who process and interpret all the information called 'news' allowing us not to worry about time-consuming deciphering all that crap on our own!
Today, Will Rogers would say, "All I know is what others tell me."
Please, if you will, consider other social-media impact! The social-media phenomenon has drastically altered our professional medical services. Once upon a time, my folks would telephone the family doctor, provided the telephone 'party-line' was 'open' and tell the doc that their boy was sick. The good doctor would make a house call and check the boy out. Today, I can 'go on line' and give symptoms and the medical person at the other end responds with advise or prescriptions; sometimes both. I still enjoy my doctor 'visits' if for no other reason but to debate our opposing political views and you know that we have them.
My Busey branch bank, two blocks from my house, sent notification that they are closing. The explanation is more people are doing their 'banking/bill paying online.' I must now travel six blocks to a sister branch bank and I will; I have enjoy making the acquaintance of many nice bank employees over the years. I must now cultivate new service folks or go 'online' and become one of the numbers at Busey.
Two weeks ago, I was at the nearby shopping mall and noticed two more shops, which are closing. One shop owner said that their company is doing great business these days but most of the purchases are made via the Internet. Do you remember the movie, 'Christmas Vacation' starring Chevy Chase? Recall that funny scene when Clark Griswald is being waited on by a shapely and sexy lingerie clerk who shows much of her leg while showing the intimate apparel? Sure you do because Clark is 'caught' looking by his son, Rusty.That scene will never happen to another gent if 'online' shopping totally replaces the retail salesperson!
Americans are most fortunate today because the social media jungle has the 24/7 cable news networks, which are much more helpful than the printed news. These cable stations hire 'pundits' who process and interpret all the information called 'news' allowing us not to worry about time-consuming deciphering all that crap on our own!
Today, Will Rogers would say, "All I know is what others tell me."
Monday, February 11, 2013
Lottery Update For Dad
Recently, I was going through personal files and came across a letter that Ihad written to my three adult children a few years ago. I revised the letter, indicating a brief up-to-date scorecard. Here is the revised letter re-sent:
Dear Kids:
Your Mother and I are doing fairly well in our golden years as it would pertain to our abilities to 'care' for ourselves. We understand that change occurs and ultimately the day will arrive when 'others' may need to care for us. Mother's plan is simple and straight forward; she wishes to go into a nursing home. I, on the other hand, do not. It is not that I believe for a moment that a nursing home is not good enough for me. I am confident that I could become accustom to the odors and institutional cooking. The reason I reject the nursing home option is predicated on the disdain I hold for those younger nursing home employees 'telling' me when I should eat, play bingo and do crafts. Therefore, I have decided that I will live with one of you children. I know this is exciting news and yet I wish it not to cause tension between you siblings as you jockey to gain some 'inside' track to win this coveted lottery of a lifetime!
Using the baseball vernacular, 'three strikes and you're out,' here is the score /rankings to date:
Oldest daughter, Dawn has two strikes. The first strike happened when she and son-in law, Shawn on two different occasions ran their automobiles into mine while backing out of their garage!. Obviously, these folks don't bother to turn and look when backing up an automobile. Given my advanced age, hearing issues and slower movement gate, I fear that I could be 'run over.'
Dawn's second strike happened when she left her young daughter at school with no ride home. The child was told, "Mommy will pick you up, don't worry." This carefree chauffeuring attitude would cause great stress upon an old- fella needing a lift home from the 'Senior Center' at closing time in the dreadful Chicago winter months!
Son, Steve has one strike for subjecting me to a long-distance car ride from Pittsburgh, PA. after attending a weekend baseball series with my twelve-year old triplet grandsons who consumed a ridiculous amount of bodily gas producing foods!! Imagine traveling seventy-five miles per hour (for hours) down an interstate highway in an 'outhouse!'
Youngest daughter, Pamela has one strike for making fun of the manner in which I talk to my toy poodle, Yodie.
Bless your anticipating hearts,
Dad
PS. I shall attempt to remain 'independent' for as long as I can and thus allowing you all attitude adjustment time.
Dear Kids:
Your Mother and I are doing fairly well in our golden years as it would pertain to our abilities to 'care' for ourselves. We understand that change occurs and ultimately the day will arrive when 'others' may need to care for us. Mother's plan is simple and straight forward; she wishes to go into a nursing home. I, on the other hand, do not. It is not that I believe for a moment that a nursing home is not good enough for me. I am confident that I could become accustom to the odors and institutional cooking. The reason I reject the nursing home option is predicated on the disdain I hold for those younger nursing home employees 'telling' me when I should eat, play bingo and do crafts. Therefore, I have decided that I will live with one of you children. I know this is exciting news and yet I wish it not to cause tension between you siblings as you jockey to gain some 'inside' track to win this coveted lottery of a lifetime!
Using the baseball vernacular, 'three strikes and you're out,' here is the score /rankings to date:
Oldest daughter, Dawn has two strikes. The first strike happened when she and son-in law, Shawn on two different occasions ran their automobiles into mine while backing out of their garage!. Obviously, these folks don't bother to turn and look when backing up an automobile. Given my advanced age, hearing issues and slower movement gate, I fear that I could be 'run over.'
Dawn's second strike happened when she left her young daughter at school with no ride home. The child was told, "Mommy will pick you up, don't worry." This carefree chauffeuring attitude would cause great stress upon an old- fella needing a lift home from the 'Senior Center' at closing time in the dreadful Chicago winter months!
Son, Steve has one strike for subjecting me to a long-distance car ride from Pittsburgh, PA. after attending a weekend baseball series with my twelve-year old triplet grandsons who consumed a ridiculous amount of bodily gas producing foods!! Imagine traveling seventy-five miles per hour (for hours) down an interstate highway in an 'outhouse!'
Youngest daughter, Pamela has one strike for making fun of the manner in which I talk to my toy poodle, Yodie.
Bless your anticipating hearts,
Dad
PS. I shall attempt to remain 'independent' for as long as I can and thus allowing you all attitude adjustment time.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
It's All Good; I'm Losing My Hair Anyway
My wife and I go to the same beautician for a haircut. I cannot recall the last time I was in an all-male barbershop. I miss those barber shops. A fella did not have to be super careful about conversational topics; today's beauty shop requires better decorum. Moreover, those barbershops of yesterday had more interesting magazines than my beautician's shop. As a seventh grade middle school boy, I remember that first time I opened a National Geographic Magazine and noticed a bare-breasted tribal gal. You can imagine my 13-year old curiosity upon seeing that first 'barbershop' Playboy centerfold.
No matter where I go for a haircut these days, I pay about $15.00 to have my ears 'set-out.' I always give a two-buck tip but I don't know why. My haircut requires approximately seven minutes whereas my wife's chair time is closer to 30 minutes. The beautician slaps an apron around my neck and begins to trim; soon the apron disappears from my body and I leave the chair. I did the math once regarding minutes computed-to-hours and the hair cut cost compared to coaching hours spent the year of my best pay stipend. I concluded that the beautician made about one hundred nineteen dollars and thirty cents more per hour than did I coaching!
My wife's haircut experience begins with conversation and a hair wash. After the rinsing, the beautician towel dries her hair and begins a carefully orchestrated comb n' cut procedure laced with more conversation. The beautician begins a blow-dry-comb my wife's hair and carefully arrange the pronounced frontal strands into some 'current-style.' Throughout this entire process, my wife gives directions to the beauty operator; (that's what my mother use to call a beautician; beauty operator). The beautician will continue to comb and apply hairspray to my wife until some magical visual moment when two women looking into a mirror come to a nodding-agreement. Women seem to have a stronger opinion on 'how' they wish their hair to 'look' after a cut and the beautician wisely placates. A guy wishes not to appear discourteous or insulting. God forbid a fella would hurt the feelings of a lady (beautician). After all boys are suppose to be tough and part of being tough is accepting the outcome without fanfare. Usually, my wife begins to complain about her haircut about half way home from the beauty shop; quick, however to tell me, "She gave you a good haircut."
I remember my 1949 haircuts costing perhaps, fifty cents. I never imagined the day that I would walk from Pet Smart having paid $41.00 for my seven pound, Toy Poodle's haircut.
No matter where I go for a haircut these days, I pay about $15.00 to have my ears 'set-out.' I always give a two-buck tip but I don't know why. My haircut requires approximately seven minutes whereas my wife's chair time is closer to 30 minutes. The beautician slaps an apron around my neck and begins to trim; soon the apron disappears from my body and I leave the chair. I did the math once regarding minutes computed-to-hours and the hair cut cost compared to coaching hours spent the year of my best pay stipend. I concluded that the beautician made about one hundred nineteen dollars and thirty cents more per hour than did I coaching!
My wife's haircut experience begins with conversation and a hair wash. After the rinsing, the beautician towel dries her hair and begins a carefully orchestrated comb n' cut procedure laced with more conversation. The beautician begins a blow-dry-comb my wife's hair and carefully arrange the pronounced frontal strands into some 'current-style.' Throughout this entire process, my wife gives directions to the beauty operator; (that's what my mother use to call a beautician; beauty operator). The beautician will continue to comb and apply hairspray to my wife until some magical visual moment when two women looking into a mirror come to a nodding-agreement. Women seem to have a stronger opinion on 'how' they wish their hair to 'look' after a cut and the beautician wisely placates. A guy wishes not to appear discourteous or insulting. God forbid a fella would hurt the feelings of a lady (beautician). After all boys are suppose to be tough and part of being tough is accepting the outcome without fanfare. Usually, my wife begins to complain about her haircut about half way home from the beauty shop; quick, however to tell me, "She gave you a good haircut."
I remember my 1949 haircuts costing perhaps, fifty cents. I never imagined the day that I would walk from Pet Smart having paid $41.00 for my seven pound, Toy Poodle's haircut.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Changing Times
Perhaps after President Obama gets some sort of 'gun law' passed he could turn his attention to the escalating loss and suffering caused by 'social media.' The latest victim is the United States Postal Service; it has been 'shot-down' Saturdays!
This now generational social media love affair and the addiction to electronic devices is a growing sickness, which is slowly but surely eroding interpersonal communication skills of younger folks and causing real fatalities. In your spare time come to grips with this picture: Illinois has a seat belt law and the police can and will have those periods of strongly enforcing that law. However, the reality of the seat belt violation is this: I am the only person put in harms way not wearing the seat belt. On the other hand, a driver 'texting' or cell phoning jeopardizes other lives. HELLO!!
My grandkids are frequently telephoning me to ask for help developing a school 'paper.' Writing is not an exercise familiar to school children. Actually, most school districts no longer even teach cursive writing. Personally, I receive hand written letters from one person on this planet; Tom McGraw a former East St. Louis sport teammate lives in Springfield, Missouri and enjoys writing letters and I sure enjoy getting them. Stop and consider how much a person may care about you when they take the time to sit down, gather thoughts and write them in a letter. On this subject of 'caring for others,' I would ask you to recall the countless times that you have been in the public place and notice people, who are seemingly together (physically with one another) but are ignoring each other as they engage in 'texting,' emailing or cell phoning?
Now, the news comes that I will get NO MORE Saturday mail. I am sadden because I will miss talking with my mailman about the weather, politics and sports. Oh, I can wait for the mail to come Monday because at age 74, my mail is rather predictable and pathetic. My mail consists of dues notices from the Masonic Lodge and Scottish Rites. I have belonged to those organizations for 35 years and I financially support their worthy causes but I never attend any meetings; they remind me of the Cub Scouts, too many passwords and secret crap! I also get endless mail ads about hearing aids, senior retirement homes and funeral internment planning; I should want all my mail (everyday) cancelled.
I end up throwing away most of the mail. My wife keeps retrieving the hearing aid stuff. If I get hearing aids, I want the kind that are easy and quick to remove because there's little these days worth hearing, especially song lyrics.
I can't wait for spring when I can sit on my backyard swing and ponder God's beauty and get away from man's self-absorption.
This now generational social media love affair and the addiction to electronic devices is a growing sickness, which is slowly but surely eroding interpersonal communication skills of younger folks and causing real fatalities. In your spare time come to grips with this picture: Illinois has a seat belt law and the police can and will have those periods of strongly enforcing that law. However, the reality of the seat belt violation is this: I am the only person put in harms way not wearing the seat belt. On the other hand, a driver 'texting' or cell phoning jeopardizes other lives. HELLO!!
My grandkids are frequently telephoning me to ask for help developing a school 'paper.' Writing is not an exercise familiar to school children. Actually, most school districts no longer even teach cursive writing. Personally, I receive hand written letters from one person on this planet; Tom McGraw a former East St. Louis sport teammate lives in Springfield, Missouri and enjoys writing letters and I sure enjoy getting them. Stop and consider how much a person may care about you when they take the time to sit down, gather thoughts and write them in a letter. On this subject of 'caring for others,' I would ask you to recall the countless times that you have been in the public place and notice people, who are seemingly together (physically with one another) but are ignoring each other as they engage in 'texting,' emailing or cell phoning?
Now, the news comes that I will get NO MORE Saturday mail. I am sadden because I will miss talking with my mailman about the weather, politics and sports. Oh, I can wait for the mail to come Monday because at age 74, my mail is rather predictable and pathetic. My mail consists of dues notices from the Masonic Lodge and Scottish Rites. I have belonged to those organizations for 35 years and I financially support their worthy causes but I never attend any meetings; they remind me of the Cub Scouts, too many passwords and secret crap! I also get endless mail ads about hearing aids, senior retirement homes and funeral internment planning; I should want all my mail (everyday) cancelled.
I end up throwing away most of the mail. My wife keeps retrieving the hearing aid stuff. If I get hearing aids, I want the kind that are easy and quick to remove because there's little these days worth hearing, especially song lyrics.
I can't wait for spring when I can sit on my backyard swing and ponder God's beauty and get away from man's self-absorption.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
On Different Pages
I am most definitely guilty of making incorrect assumptions regarding my grandchildren understanding my comments. I believe that most folks are accustom to using colloquialisms when engaged in informal conversations. The problem arises when the conversation occurs between grandparent and grandkids given the generational gap.
Let me elaborate on this premise by offering 'some' words that have suggested romantic-courtships through the years. When I was a teenager my friends spoke of a sweetheart-couple 'making-out,' which meant they were perhaps involved in passionate kissing and/or touching. My parents' generation used different terms identifying the same romance activities; 'spooning or necking.' I would never use the terms 'making-out,' 'spooning' or 'necking' in a conversation with the grandchildren; they would be puzzled and think that I have gone-off the edge. In fact, I have no clue what term(s) the 'now' crowd might be using (today) to describe the aforementioned expressions of love-explorations. I wish not and need not have this 'current' vocabulary information. Let me conclude my point-making with this illustration: If I said, "She got a peck," you might inquire; did she get a kiss, or perhaps a piercing blow from a bird's beak? On the other hand, she may have gotten eight (8) quarts of beer. Well, you get my 'drift'> as in meaning; NOT floating.
Some time ago, I was visiting my son and daughter-in law. Their triplet boys were in the living room with us and we were talking baseball. I made a comment that some baseball player had seven 'dingers.' The word 'dingers' is one of those baseball colloquialisms (from my day), which means home runs. Thus I was telling these people from two different generations that this particular player had hit seven home runs.
I was dumbfounded, to say the least, when every person paused with a shocked look and then broke into hysterical laughter. My eleven-year old triplet grandsons fell to floor with uncontrollable laughing while my daughter-in law displayed an embarrassed giggle as she questioned the notion saying repeatedly, "No Way, No Way!! I'll be damned, I quickly discovered that their family refers to the boys' penises as 'dingers!' I suppose my children and grandchildren found great humor envisioning a baseball player sporting seven (7) penises and perhaps still able to run the bases.
These days, I try to limit my conversations with grandkids and I will never fall victim to 'texting' with them!
Let me elaborate on this premise by offering 'some' words that have suggested romantic-courtships through the years. When I was a teenager my friends spoke of a sweetheart-couple 'making-out,' which meant they were perhaps involved in passionate kissing and/or touching. My parents' generation used different terms identifying the same romance activities; 'spooning or necking.' I would never use the terms 'making-out,' 'spooning' or 'necking' in a conversation with the grandchildren; they would be puzzled and think that I have gone-off the edge. In fact, I have no clue what term(s) the 'now' crowd might be using (today) to describe the aforementioned expressions of love-explorations. I wish not and need not have this 'current' vocabulary information. Let me conclude my point-making with this illustration: If I said, "She got a peck," you might inquire; did she get a kiss, or perhaps a piercing blow from a bird's beak? On the other hand, she may have gotten eight (8) quarts of beer. Well, you get my 'drift'> as in meaning; NOT floating.
Some time ago, I was visiting my son and daughter-in law. Their triplet boys were in the living room with us and we were talking baseball. I made a comment that some baseball player had seven 'dingers.' The word 'dingers' is one of those baseball colloquialisms (from my day), which means home runs. Thus I was telling these people from two different generations that this particular player had hit seven home runs.
I was dumbfounded, to say the least, when every person paused with a shocked look and then broke into hysterical laughter. My eleven-year old triplet grandsons fell to floor with uncontrollable laughing while my daughter-in law displayed an embarrassed giggle as she questioned the notion saying repeatedly, "No Way, No Way!! I'll be damned, I quickly discovered that their family refers to the boys' penises as 'dingers!' I suppose my children and grandchildren found great humor envisioning a baseball player sporting seven (7) penises and perhaps still able to run the bases.
These days, I try to limit my conversations with grandkids and I will never fall victim to 'texting' with them!
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Must Keep On Keepin' On!
Lately, I feel that my personal patience and tolerance is abandoning my remaining brain cells faster than the gasoline-pump numbers turn. This happening coincides with some natural depression issues lingering from my mother's recent death; I know this to be true because I feel it deep inside. I keep posing a question to myself: Why do you care so much when many who need your help are too foolish, obtuse or bull-headed to accept the help??
In recent months, I have served Decatur School District #61 in an athletic consultant capacity. My charge has ranged from some 'coaching-education seminars' to investigating various aspects of athletic conference affiliation; a re-examination of the best conference 'fit' for Decatur's high school student-athletes. My frustration surfaces when so often educators refuse to step back a pace or two and consider any decision's impact on "ALL" student-athletic programs rather than thinking ONLY about their own sport program. Some of the coaches also feel no responsibility to 'go' that extra-distance to develop feeder programs; instead they wish to look for lesser conference-competition. I cannot put my head around the notion that some coaches/mentors demand more from student-athletes than they demand from themselves!
I must fight my way out of this mood and garner re-focused energy to keep pushing onward. I must continue to 'see' the need and 'fill the need.'
Therefore, I searched and located the following anonymous writing to re-read and shore up or shape up my own negative attitude towards obstacles of apathetic indifference.
ANYWAY
1. People can be unreasonable, illogical and self-centered....................Love them anyway
2. If you do good some people will accuse you of ulterior motives.......Do good anyway
3. If your successful you win false friends & true enemies....................Be successful anyway
4. The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow...........................Do good anyway
5. Honesty & frankness make you vulnerable.........................................Be honest & frank anyway
6. What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight..............Build anyway
7. People who need help may attack you when you help........................Help them anyway
8. Give the best you have and you may be kicked in the teeth................Give your best anyway
In recent months, I have served Decatur School District #61 in an athletic consultant capacity. My charge has ranged from some 'coaching-education seminars' to investigating various aspects of athletic conference affiliation; a re-examination of the best conference 'fit' for Decatur's high school student-athletes. My frustration surfaces when so often educators refuse to step back a pace or two and consider any decision's impact on "ALL" student-athletic programs rather than thinking ONLY about their own sport program. Some of the coaches also feel no responsibility to 'go' that extra-distance to develop feeder programs; instead they wish to look for lesser conference-competition. I cannot put my head around the notion that some coaches/mentors demand more from student-athletes than they demand from themselves!
I must fight my way out of this mood and garner re-focused energy to keep pushing onward. I must continue to 'see' the need and 'fill the need.'
Therefore, I searched and located the following anonymous writing to re-read and shore up or shape up my own negative attitude towards obstacles of apathetic indifference.
ANYWAY
1. People can be unreasonable, illogical and self-centered....................Love them anyway
2. If you do good some people will accuse you of ulterior motives.......Do good anyway
3. If your successful you win false friends & true enemies....................Be successful anyway
4. The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow...........................Do good anyway
5. Honesty & frankness make you vulnerable.........................................Be honest & frank anyway
6. What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight..............Build anyway
7. People who need help may attack you when you help........................Help them anyway
8. Give the best you have and you may be kicked in the teeth................Give your best anyway
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Reader Beware!
I would hope that the regular readers of this blog do understand that many of these postings are my effort to forewarn about the disconnect, which evolves through the aging experience. This acknowledgement established, I wish to re-visit the Super Bowl XLVII half-time show. (Note: The Roman numerals used for the Super Bowl is a joke. You all know damn well that most American football fans have absolutely no clue about Roman numerals beyond the number thirty.) Anyway, I digress; let's redirect the thought to the Beyonce' half-time performance. May I underscore the obvious: Beyonce' is a beautiful young woman with an excellent voice and all the performance wherewithal. Her rendition of Etta James' song, 'At Last' performed at the 2009, Presidential Inauguration was dynamite! I did not hear that voice in the Super Bowl half-time show. Instead, I saw a much different talent displayed; suggestive dance moves laced with sultry glances.
If a television viewer was seeing Beyonce' for the very first time they would not come away thinking that she was a legit voice but instead a performer selling a sensuous body image. Her sauntering about performance was reminiscent of the late Gypsy Rose Lee, the famous burlesque stripper of the late 1930's and 1940's. The great difference between the two; Gypsy Rose could not sing; Super Bowl Sunday Beyonce' elected NOT to sing.
Okay, I shall stop there! I have made my point and the point IS: I am completely out-of-touch with the masses. I am an old fart who has lost his mainstream-membership card! I know this because everybody was raving about Beyonce's performance the morning after the Super Bowl; millions get it and I DON'T! Actually, I thought Jennifer Hudson singing 'God Bless America' in the pre-game show and Alicia Keys singing the 'National Anthem' was demonstrations of terrific talents. Once again, I show my 'stick-in-the-mud' age-deprived non-cool status. I am no longer 'in-fashion' or 'in-the-know!' I likely flatter myself suggesting that I was ever a 'hip' person!
Reader Beware! With the passage of time, you too will find yourself yearning for the authentic, the simple expressions and bare-talent-performers not bare-ass performers insulting your appreciation for musical talent.
If a television viewer was seeing Beyonce' for the very first time they would not come away thinking that she was a legit voice but instead a performer selling a sensuous body image. Her sauntering about performance was reminiscent of the late Gypsy Rose Lee, the famous burlesque stripper of the late 1930's and 1940's. The great difference between the two; Gypsy Rose could not sing; Super Bowl Sunday Beyonce' elected NOT to sing.
Okay, I shall stop there! I have made my point and the point IS: I am completely out-of-touch with the masses. I am an old fart who has lost his mainstream-membership card! I know this because everybody was raving about Beyonce's performance the morning after the Super Bowl; millions get it and I DON'T! Actually, I thought Jennifer Hudson singing 'God Bless America' in the pre-game show and Alicia Keys singing the 'National Anthem' was demonstrations of terrific talents. Once again, I show my 'stick-in-the-mud' age-deprived non-cool status. I am no longer 'in-fashion' or 'in-the-know!' I likely flatter myself suggesting that I was ever a 'hip' person!
Reader Beware! With the passage of time, you too will find yourself yearning for the authentic, the simple expressions and bare-talent-performers not bare-ass performers insulting your appreciation for musical talent.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Expect More & Pay Less (Really?)
Late night this past Friday, I was driving home to Decatur after attending a high school basketball contest in the St. Louis area. A significant blowing snow caused me to pay closer attention to slow moving semi-trucks. As I was passing one such rig, I noticed that it was a 'Target Department Store' semi, which was sporting the huge Red circle 'logo' and the large printed slogan:"Expect More...Pay Less."
I frequently shop at a Target Store that is just a block from my house. I like the store and I find the Target employees most helpful. I cannot concur with their slogan that I can truly expect more goods and it will cost me less. Only a gullible fool would anticipate such deals or services at any store in this 21st century.
In full disclosure to modern day advertisers and promotional experts, I am a product of a generation that once upon a time got 'good deals' and we perhaps did receive more for less. Let me share a scenario to support the point. In 1954, I sat in old Sportsman's Park with my Father as we watched a baseball game between the St. Louis Cardinals and New York Giants. Actually, we watched them play a 'doubleheader;' two games for the price of one game; $8.50 per ticket and our soda was $.15 cents. This past summer of 2012, my son and I watched a single game at Bush Stadium and our tickets cost $99.00 each; no longer does MLB schedule doubleheaders. Did I mention a soda was $7.00.
Speaking of baseball doubleheaders, I also recall the movie industry when it offered those 'double-features.' Usually the first full-length movie was the lesser flick and the second movie was the so-called 'main-attraction.' However, before the movies, we were entertained by a "Looney Tunes" cartoon and an ongoing "Serial." In 1954, I may have paid a dollar for a movie ticket. You know the rest of today's movie cost-story!!
I will admit that economics is a 'relative' phenomenon. Salaries today are much greater than days of old. We 'earn' more money and things cost more money. However, SERVICE is another matter, please! In 1954, when I drove a car into a gasoline station, two attendants would rush immediately to the vehicle. One attendant would pump gasoline (.21 cents per gallon), clean the windshield and check the oil while the second attendant swept out the interior of the auto and checked tires for proper air pressure. Just two-days ago, I paid $3.65 per gallon, pumped my own gas, cleaned my own windshield and walked through the cold blowing snow to pay for the self-service privilege!
All my aforementioned 'gobbledygook' is not intended as a complaint. I wish only to point out that I ain't buyin' any corporate bull-butter-slogan suggesting that, today I can 'expect more for less!!
Last night, I did get more Super Bowl for Less; there was a power outage that caused the game to last 35 minutes longer. In addition, one coach entertained us with 'cry-baby temper-tantrum antics' reminiscence of tennis great John McEnroe.
I frequently shop at a Target Store that is just a block from my house. I like the store and I find the Target employees most helpful. I cannot concur with their slogan that I can truly expect more goods and it will cost me less. Only a gullible fool would anticipate such deals or services at any store in this 21st century.
In full disclosure to modern day advertisers and promotional experts, I am a product of a generation that once upon a time got 'good deals' and we perhaps did receive more for less. Let me share a scenario to support the point. In 1954, I sat in old Sportsman's Park with my Father as we watched a baseball game between the St. Louis Cardinals and New York Giants. Actually, we watched them play a 'doubleheader;' two games for the price of one game; $8.50 per ticket and our soda was $.15 cents. This past summer of 2012, my son and I watched a single game at Bush Stadium and our tickets cost $99.00 each; no longer does MLB schedule doubleheaders. Did I mention a soda was $7.00.
Speaking of baseball doubleheaders, I also recall the movie industry when it offered those 'double-features.' Usually the first full-length movie was the lesser flick and the second movie was the so-called 'main-attraction.' However, before the movies, we were entertained by a "Looney Tunes" cartoon and an ongoing "Serial." In 1954, I may have paid a dollar for a movie ticket. You know the rest of today's movie cost-story!!
I will admit that economics is a 'relative' phenomenon. Salaries today are much greater than days of old. We 'earn' more money and things cost more money. However, SERVICE is another matter, please! In 1954, when I drove a car into a gasoline station, two attendants would rush immediately to the vehicle. One attendant would pump gasoline (.21 cents per gallon), clean the windshield and check the oil while the second attendant swept out the interior of the auto and checked tires for proper air pressure. Just two-days ago, I paid $3.65 per gallon, pumped my own gas, cleaned my own windshield and walked through the cold blowing snow to pay for the self-service privilege!
All my aforementioned 'gobbledygook' is not intended as a complaint. I wish only to point out that I ain't buyin' any corporate bull-butter-slogan suggesting that, today I can 'expect more for less!!
Last night, I did get more Super Bowl for Less; there was a power outage that caused the game to last 35 minutes longer. In addition, one coach entertained us with 'cry-baby temper-tantrum antics' reminiscence of tennis great John McEnroe.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Sweet'n Sour Moments and Memories
It's a basketball weekend for my wife and I. Once upon a time and for 37-years every weekend was basketball as well as all the days between weekends. Someone asked me recently if after 12-years into retirement from the coaching ranks if I missed it? I miss four things: (1) not having a team to think about, (2) practice preparations and (3) bringing youngsters together from all socio-economic and ethnic walks of life and molding them into a 'sharing' committed unit. I sure don't miss long bus rides on those tin-can 'yellow' school buses, practicing over holidays and explaining to some parent that there son cannot play the game and it's likely due to DNA or a crap attitude commitment.
Tonight we will head to Granite City to watch our son's 'Warrior' squad attempt to make the Alton 'Redbirds' their 11th win. Granite City has long been a basketball coaching grave-yard. Granite has long had success in wrestling, soccer and baseball while most other sports want. Should the Warriors turn in a winning season this year it will be the first in some time; I dare not ask how long it's been for fear of jinxing.
Granite plays in that tough Southwestern Conference. It is interesting to note the greatest change in Southwestern Conference basketball is that most of the teams are now comprised predominately of 'Black' players. I played for East St. Louis high school from 1954-to-1957 and later coached Edwardsville 1970-to-1977 and I know of that, which I speak. The SWC teams are all quicker and have greater athleticism. I hesitate to suggest the shooting skills are better today...they are not!
On Saturday night, my wife and I will travel to Jacksonville where a 25th reunion of the Crimsons' 1987-88 (26-4) 'Sweet 16-State Team' will be noted. I will enjoy seeing many of my former players. That team was gifted and came together to get the most out of their collective abilities.
There will be a somber note to embrace; the recent death of one of that era's most beloved teammates and a former JHS assistant coach, Bobby Hoffman. It was Bobby, who approached me at a wake-visitation in Jacksonville asking, "Coach, would you help put together a "Reunion Night" this coming season for that '88 State Team?" I can still see his beaming smile and feel his positive energy as he asked the question. It remains difficult to imagine within a few months from our conversation, Bobby would be gone. There has not been a day that my wife and I have failed to lift Bobby's wife, children and his parents up in prayer. I am sure that I shall whisper a prayer during Saturday's ceremony.
Oh, that fourth and greatest thing I miss about coaching is not the games, not the wins and not the championships but the wonderful relationships and team love, which is but a memory today.
Tonight we will head to Granite City to watch our son's 'Warrior' squad attempt to make the Alton 'Redbirds' their 11th win. Granite City has long been a basketball coaching grave-yard. Granite has long had success in wrestling, soccer and baseball while most other sports want. Should the Warriors turn in a winning season this year it will be the first in some time; I dare not ask how long it's been for fear of jinxing.
Granite plays in that tough Southwestern Conference. It is interesting to note the greatest change in Southwestern Conference basketball is that most of the teams are now comprised predominately of 'Black' players. I played for East St. Louis high school from 1954-to-1957 and later coached Edwardsville 1970-to-1977 and I know of that, which I speak. The SWC teams are all quicker and have greater athleticism. I hesitate to suggest the shooting skills are better today...they are not!
On Saturday night, my wife and I will travel to Jacksonville where a 25th reunion of the Crimsons' 1987-88 (26-4) 'Sweet 16-State Team' will be noted. I will enjoy seeing many of my former players. That team was gifted and came together to get the most out of their collective abilities.
There will be a somber note to embrace; the recent death of one of that era's most beloved teammates and a former JHS assistant coach, Bobby Hoffman. It was Bobby, who approached me at a wake-visitation in Jacksonville asking, "Coach, would you help put together a "Reunion Night" this coming season for that '88 State Team?" I can still see his beaming smile and feel his positive energy as he asked the question. It remains difficult to imagine within a few months from our conversation, Bobby would be gone. There has not been a day that my wife and I have failed to lift Bobby's wife, children and his parents up in prayer. I am sure that I shall whisper a prayer during Saturday's ceremony.
Oh, that fourth and greatest thing I miss about coaching is not the games, not the wins and not the championships but the wonderful relationships and team love, which is but a memory today.
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