Remember Where 'The Buck Stops' and Make The Call

Let's acknowledge one thing up front and please don't bull crap around the fact; we all enjoy the role of 'armchair quarterback!! You bet your sweet ass! I spent 37-years as a varsity basketball coach. I had coaching stops at Mason City, Washington, Edwardsville, Jacksonville and Decatur; all Illinois communities and all damn good basketball communities.  These coaching jobs came with high expectations...to WIN! Most of the local fans had strong opinions on 'how' to win but none of them bothered to become a coach.

I had a radio sports program in Jacksonville for nineteen years. It was a 30-minute Saturday morning show. The station manager wanted me to take telephone calls and questions. I told him that I was born at night in East St. Louis but IT WAS NOT LAST NIGHT! Who the hell in their right mind wishes to listen to wannabes (after the game) second guess your coaching moves mandated during the heat of the contest...you gotta be shitting me!

This brings me to this Syrian use of chemical weapons on its own countrymen during their civil war. I could give a rats ass if those people want to fight and kill over some domestic revolution; but whoa; the nerve-gassing of innocent children can never be ignored by  civilized folks. Good people don't turn their heads on that behavior. But American President Obama is walking on eggshell because the well was poisoned by his predecessor with previous manipulated facts and blatant lies. Obama needs to take a page out of Harry S. Truman's play book and crank up the Enola Gay. Stop worrying about the so-called 50% of Americans who wish NOT to respond; ignore such polls. We have 317 million Americans. 107 million of those Americans (one-third) either cannot read or read below the fifth grade level. Many of these 'giant-thinkers' are polled when they leave the high school athletic contests.

Our government needs to address this chemical war-weapons 'over-there' before it is 'over-here.'

Stop By, We Can Talk About It

I was sitting on the backyard swing yesterday afternoon and began thinking about how good and thoughtful are our three adult kids. Seldom a day passes that these grown children don't telephone us. Of course, there is a bit of a sinister motive on their parts; I think they gather information and when they stumble on a topic which they can giggle about together and make 'screw' of their parents they are all over IT! A few years back our kids laughed at our addiction to 'watching' 'Dancing with the Stars,' 'Family Feud' and 'The Big Bang Theory.' Of course, three years later word leaks out from the grandkids that those T.V. shows are now popular in those homes.

For several years, I wrote a couple of letters every week to my children but once I began posting my blog, I discontinued that letter writing habit. It is for the best, my kids were becoming weary and sometimes aggravated with my letter ramblings. Since substituting the 'blog,' my kids can now choose not to read my thoughts and for the most part, I understand that most do not. My son and one son-in law bother to read 'these' words. My wife would never take the time to check out the blog so, as with any over-bearing husband, I read the blog to her before posting. She always comments i.e., "That's good." "I don't agree with those comments." "You should not use those curse words." I seldom change anything predicated on her opinion but I nonetheless value her thoughts and "YES" you can do BOTH!

When my mother (Lucille) was still living, I would include her in my letter-to-the-children mailings. She would often comment saying, "You shouldn't use those curse words." More than once she took issue with my liberal views on political issues. Once when visiting my mother, a few years ago, I drove mother to visit her 94-year old sister Kate. I recall kibitzing with these wonderful loves of mine and after stating a political opinion, my Aunt Kate looked at my mother and dramatically proclaimed, "Lucille, you raised a DEMOCRAT!" "Holy CRAP" was my blurted response. "You all had a hand in 'raising' this Democrat because for the first sixty-years of YOUR lives, YOU ALSO WERE DEMOCRATS!" My Aunt stared at me as if my words were foreign to her; my mother knew better than to refute my claim.

And so it seems...most often in the American journey and struggles, folks embrace the 'liberal' thinking and once they no longer need to 'slay the dragon,' they sit back in their rocking chairs and mull over bank statements while watching Fox News.

I must stop now, Yodie, the Toy Poodle wishes to go for a walk. If you find yourself near Decatur, give a holler and I'll give you directions to the backyard swing...we can sit-a-spell and discuss my language use.

Dream a Little Dream with Me

Fifty years ago this week, civil rights leader, the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his iconic 'I Have a Dream' speech in Washington D.C. The words were powerful and poignant! Certainly, Dr. King would be pleased today with many aspects of racial equality advancements while still finding frustration in some quarters as it would relate to perceptions and tolerance. Unfortunately, most of us talk a good Bible-loving game but still have a difficult time truly 'loving others as HE loved us.'

 I have listened to the 'Dream' speech several times and I can state unequivocally that I too have a Dream; perhaps not on the same level of social importance or  significance but nonetheless it is my Dream; my wish list. I have a 'dream that someday motorcyclists will 'Start Looking Out for Themselves' by wearing helmets so I might be able to go back to 'looking' at billboards. I have a dream that politicians on both sides of the aisle will one day do what is good for constituents instead of lobby-interest groups.

I have a dream that one day 'The Today Show' will mute Willard Scott's microphone and just show the Smucker's jar photos of century-old folks. My dream envisions the day when television Evangelists 'sell' only the 'love of Jesus Christ' and once their Church publicly supports a political candidate, the Church loses its tax-exempt status. My other television-patron dream is that my cable television provider will one day share paid advertisement program monies with ME! I should not have to 'pay' for programs that are being 'paid' for by others...share the profits or show re-runs of 'The Tonight Show' with Johnny Carson.

I have a dream that one day, my wife and I shall attend a movie and not be subjected to 22-minutes of commercials and coming attractions. I dream of the day when my T-shirts will once again read, 'Made in America.' Speaking of our country, we Americans agree that, 'Shit Happens;' so I dream of a time when plumbers and trash haulers make more money than professional athletes.

Finally, I have a dream that one day little children, of all colors will be told 'no' more often and held accountable for bad behavior and poor choices. Actually, that last dream is predicated on waking from this nightmare where helicopter-parents live vicariously through children and worship the little 'turd-blossoms!!

Show Me The #*?# Money

By now, I would believe that most Americans have seen the recent MTV video performance of Miley Cyrus, aka, Disney's Hannah Montana. During the song-dance performance, Cyrus, dressed in a costume similar to a one-piece swim suit, grabs her crotch, places a large foam finger-hand to a male singer's crotch, rubs the finger across her crotch and bends forward allowing her buttocks to back into the male singer's crotch while sticking her tongue out. The cameras periodically scan the celebrity laced audience noting 'shocked' expressions.  The moment was an obviously contrived-orchestrated burlesque.

Of course, the immediate fallout-response from many quarters is appall and condemnation. Although, I find Ms. Cyrus' performance vulgar and offensive in a moral society, we Americans have evolved into 'amoral' society. We need to own our over-the-top sexual behavior displays and stop pointing condescending fingers towards other countries as if we are card-carrying members of the apostles holier-than-thou- club! True, the treatment of Muslim women, as reported, is horrific and unacceptable but the manner in which Americans sexually portray women as 'objects-of-male-satisfaction and delight' is equaling disturbing for this writer.

As for Miley Cyrus, she has marginal voice talent and thus feels a need to distance herself from the 'pure' Disney image offered through the character, Hannah Montana. However, most of today's young singers are not very good. You can easily conclude that the louder the back ground sound music/noise the greater is the attempt to 'cover-up' less than quality' vocal chords. When you cannot sing, you must sell the image; the easiest image to peddle in the 'one nation under God ' country is the image dripping with sexual innuendos. This approach is also used in the movie industry. We no longer trust the senses of the paying audience to 'get-it;' we must show some skin when depicting lovers, we must use vulgar dialogue and we must have chase scene with explosions; nothing can be inferred, hells-bells we have terrific movie-industry visual affects...show us some blood!

Our culture has inundated youth with destructive video games for decades. My question is why do we wonder about the motivation prompting three teen boys to shoot and kill a jogger because they were 'bored.' It follows that when a society insists on driving 10-miles per hour over the lawful speed limit, the society will change the limit. If a society presses against the moral norms, the moral compass changes and a new norm is born. Welcome to America...we are no longer Pilgrim/Puritans and we are a fast-fading Judea-Christian nation; so let's not be so damn judgmental of others and pompous with our self-inflated 'good-guys' perceptions, after all, we may have trouble properly 'seeing' others due the 'speck in our eye.'

Most of our changing behavior, which is initially perceived as 'bad' is the result of poor parenting or a lust for fame and fortune. However, in our country, we will eventually find some way to 'blame' public school educators.

Excuse me while I take leave of this typing machine and retire to my den. I think I will listen to some Carly Simon songs; gee, I have not heard the recording of Tony Bennett's, "Once Upon a Time" in a long time.

Eat & Read at Your Own Risk

Greetings to y'all from the Soy City...that's right; perhaps here in Decatur, Illinois more of that fermented sauce is produced than any other place in the world; thank you Jesus for corn and soy beans aplenty.

I just returned from grocery shopping, I always go very early mornings. I will not read another thing the rest of this day. My eyes are blurry from reading all those dad gum ingredient labels. Back in my younger days, I never looked at labels; never knew that ingredients were listed on products and didn't give two hoots' hell what I was eating...if it tasted good and I liked it, I ate it! I ate all kinds of stuff: fried ham, bacon, bologna, braunschweiger  luncheon meat and I always mopped up thick gravy with a half-loaf of bread. I recall those wonderful days of yesteryear when I ate everything in sight.

My calculations look something like this: during my 74-years, I have eaten 88,727 meals and 32,526 snacks. This does not included 837 various candy bars and Twinkies devoured 'on-the-run.' Well, times change and so has my youthful attitude towards foods. Study after study and warnings a upon warnings cause me to 'read' those damn ingredient labels.

I will share one recent eating experience a few months ago. I was looking for the quintessential healthy snack. Someone told me about 'Smart Cakes;'  after much searching I found 'Smart Cakes' and read the label: Listen up...)...fat 0, saturated fat 0, trans fat 0, cholesterol 0, and calories 0. I bought the Carmel covered Smart Cakes. After eating one Smart Cake, I thought I had just experienced eating a piece of Styrofoam coated with Carmel icing. I became fascinated with the consistency of the Smart Cake and placed one Smart Cake in a saucer of milk and placed it in the refrigerator over night. The next morning, I noticed the Smart Cake was still floating in the bowl of milk indicating that Smart Cakes absorb 'nothing!' IT tasted like a piece of Styrofoam, which had been left out in the rain.

It did take me awhile to find a bit of good 'eating news' to pass along to you, I found a study supporting the opinion that 'dark' chocolate is good for you...as soon as I read that in the study, I read no further so I cannot comment on any suggested daily amount of dark chocolate to eat....Use your own judgment as do I.

For The Good of Order

It's that time when we will soon note the seasonal change as the summer sun loses its power giving way to the fall color collages. Those carefree summer school-vacation days now give way to the regimentation of school activities and the dependence upon bells and buses. Even the sport seasons shift bleacher arrangements. The baseball season reaches a playoff crescendo with the crocodile-tears from those lovable Cubs Fans singing that familiar song entitled, "Wait Till Next Year.'

I suppose my lifetime of attending school and then a thirty-nine year teaching career caused me to not only become comfortable with regimentation but embrace a predictable routine. If you tell me the event is scheduled at eight o'clock, I will not arrive at 8:01; I expect such attitude/behavior reciprocation. Just a few days ago, I was discussing this with my son and he suggested that life works better for him when he does not hold expectations of people; he is a much better man than his old-man embracing such a relationship approach. However, I grew up feeling all kinds of expectations and I busted my ass trying to meet every expectation as if it was a competitive challenge. Speaking of competitive situations, I never had an endless list of expectations of the players that I coached; actually, I had just three expectations: (1) be on time, (2) pay attention and (3) work hard. I would bet that every employer of my players had the same expectations...you're welcome guys!

I recall vividly that my father 'expected' me to respect my mother. Once I sassed her and he smacked me across the mouth; never disrespected his sweetheart again. At age 13, I was expected to work as a delivery-boy at my aunt's grocery store every Saturday from 8A.M. until 4P.M.; I made  $$4.00 for the day. During my dating teen-years when I was playing high school basketball and baseball, I had no work opportunities. My mother did not give me date money but said, "You can earn $5.00 waxing the hardwood floors. Our entire home had hardwood floors in every room. If the floors did not need waxing, she could always find dirty windows inside/outside. The expectations had clear guidelines.

My father always maintained that the hours after midnight were 'shallow-hours.' and  he said once and only once, "Don't let me have to come looking for you during shallow hours!" A curfew-expectation! My parents had great work ethic and looked upon a college education with some skepticism; it was uncommon in their respective families for an 18-year old boy to pass by the industrial/chemical plants, which offered a paycheck and 'go' to college. In fact, I was the first in both families to receive a college degree. I shall always remember the words my father left me with as he drove off from Illinois State University after dropping me off for that freshman year, "Boy, he said, I expect you to have a job in four years."

If not having expectations of other people works for you then hooray for you. I on the other hand  have expectations of everyone in my life and I expect them to feel the same about me; I'll meet your expectations so dammit, you all meet mine!

We All Have Frustration Issues

Okay, I was out of pocket for a couple of days due to conflicts with my Internet provider, AT&T. Actually, I was not fusing with AT&T but with their various representatives, Annie who is located in the Philippines and George who is sitting on his ass in India. Please note, I don't think those are real first names but it makes all us dumb ass Americans feel akin to these 'outsourced scabs.'

I had a computer issue two months ago and after two days of 'online' service testing and multiple difficult to understand conversations with AT&T reps, they finally sent a technician to my house and discovered the problem was at their 'substation.' Having the similar problem again five days ago, I called AT&T (this is when I spent hours with Annie and George) and both insisted that I needed a new modem. I bought the new modem and that proved NOT to be the problem. I canceled my AT&T Internet provider service when George 'hung-up' on me. My new email is: coachmel20@comcast.net

Away from the Internet a few days, I have had additional time to read the newspaper and follow television news and I am intrigued with the top secret military 'leaks' released by Bradley Manning. Manning was found guilty of 'leaking' over 700 top classified military documents. Subsequently, Manning was tried in a military court, found guilty and sentenced to 35 years in prison. He began serving that time yesterday at Leavenworth, Kansas. Lo' and behold, Bradley Manning appears to have a gender identity issue; he wishes to become a 'she' and stated publicly that folks should immediately start calling him, Chelsea. He also wants to begin hormone therapy to prepare his body for a sex change surgery. The United States military says that it will not spend tax monies on hormone therapy.

Chelsea, aka, Bradley will none-the-less continue some options to change his male-plug into a female receptacle, therefore all future  'leaks'  from Manning 'will occur 'sitting down!'

A Peek Into YOUR Future

Back in the day, Sam Cooke recorded a song entitled, 'A Change Gonna Come.'  The song was about civil rights social change coming. The song, however could have been a forewarning about my body.

My hair and teeth are 'jumping ship.' I sneeze more and sleep less. Without my hearing aids, I would not hear a jumbo jet taking off from my front yard. My eye sight is fading and my joints don't have the flexibility they once had. This malady-combination limits my ability to turn around when backing the automobile out of my garage. To compensate, I embrace the following ritual when leaving in the auto; I walk around the car once then get behind the wheel and honk-the-horn three times before backing out. Keeping my fingers crossed.

Every morning when I get out of bed, my lower back and hips remind me of three previous back surgeries and too many athletic contests. A quick look in the morning mirror shows skin that similar to that of an alligator. When putting my socks on, I notice that my toenails are suddenly growing in a downward direction and look like Halloween candy corn; the dark brown variety.

My memory or lack thereof is aided by my (inherited) Grandpa E.V.'s clock, which chimes on the half-hour; I thus remember to put toy poodle, Yodie outside for a whiz. Thank goodness for a wristwatch that displays not only time but also date and day. If I did not have that watch the trash would never be put to the curb on the correct day.

I still manage to walk 45-minutes each day and I get additional walking with my frequent nighttime urinating trips. I have started wearing a rubber-band around my wrist as a reminder to check my fly to make sure the zipper is 'up.' I have had several public stares and giggles during these senior years. I also use that rubber-band as a secondary reminder to check nose boogers, which, show up at the most inopportune moments these days.

Sam Cooke was correct; a change did come. Yes, indeed, it has arrived for this old boy. I still remember that I am a Democrat and a St. Loui9s Cardinals' fan...I fear the day when my change runs amok and I start watching Fox News and rooting for the Chicago Cubs.

Actually, I am likely one of the most fortunate. I have been richly blessed with family, good health while working at job that never felt like work.  God permitted some wonderful people to walk into my life; for the better part, I let most stay.

Thinking On It

I've been 'mullin' a good bit lately. Old grandpa, E.V. Bennett did a lot of 'mullin' and 'ponderin.' I discovered later in my teens that mullin and ponderin are the same; never got around to asking Grandpa E.V. what situation called for one or the other. I recall once as a youngster going into Grandpa's backyard where he was looking up at an apple tree; I asked, "What ya lookin' at Grandpa?" He said, "I'm ponderin how to get the apples off those top branches before they fall and bruise." He went on to say, "I'll keep mullin on it while I sit a spell and do a  little whittling." Sure wish I had gotten some clarification from the old-timer.

I have been doing both mullin and ponderin as I consider my future against this current socio-economic backdrop. Elderly folks are up against the wall these days trying to make ends meet. I hear stories of old timers turning heat down and sitting in the dark to save on power bills while electing to eat cat food so they can afford medicines.

I have a good teacher retirement but the State of Illinois government has used most of those retirement monies to pay for other stuff and now the State is flat-ass broke. To quote Fats Domino, "Ain't It a Shame." I anticipate getting a "Dear Retiree" letter soon. I also have a good supplement insurance to go with Medicare, however it is just a matter of time before I have a stroke filling out government forms or punching endless telephone numbers talking to automated voices as I attempt to negotiate the maze when filing any claims. As my mental faculties become more compromised, I anticipate things going from bad to worse.

I am not going to expect my children to take care of me; therefore, I am mullin over committing a felony and being incarcerated. I would then receive three squares a day, free dental (false teeth are just around the next piece of corn-on-the-cob) and free prescription drugs, not to mention the availability of some recreational drugs. Actually, I am just ponderin, which law breaking act to commit; one that will not result in tazing because I hate it when I mess my pants.

Oh, Grandpa E.V. Bennett got his pondering right. He came back to the yard with a gunny sack and told me to climb that tree and pick those apples off the top branches, he said, "When the sacks filled climb back down and we'll have a bowl of homemade ice cream."  Grandpa E.V. got his apples; I got my ice cream and the next day my Mammy put a scoop of ice cream on a piece of homemade hot apple pie for the young apple picker.

Yea and Nay

I had a business- coffee meeting yesterday morning at Panera's (Decatur). I passed Starbucks on my way to Panera's. I like Panera's soups but I don't 'fancy' its coffee but I strongly dislike the notion of paying 5 bucks for a Starbuck's java. Next time this gent telephones me and wishes to meet for coffee, I shall suggest McDonald's; better cup of coffee and you cannot beat the senior discount.
On my way home, I began thinking of things I love and don't love. Perhaps my list will cause you a personal reflective pause.
Following is a short-list of what I believe to be appropriate loves:
Your God
Your spouse
Your kids
Your grandkids
Your parents
Your country
Your hometown
Your Team
Halle Berry
Trash collectors
Your job
Your life
Your dog
Your backyard swing

Things I believe that are NOT appropriate to love:
A suit/dress
War
Flavored coffee
Mimes
Bagpipes
Foreign movies
Reality T.V. Shows
Soccer
Boise, Idaho
Rap music

I am unsure about 'quotations' and sayings; should I love them or not? Some seem to contradict, i.e., "Sport  mirrors life." I played a lot of sport and I won and lost contests; I've lived a long life and every time I look at 'my' scoreboard, I seem to be trailing and thus playing catch-up.

Other things that I like: I like the 'new' Illinois law, which will go into effect January 1st; makes it unlawful to drive a vehicle and talk on a handheld cell phone. The law makers now need to stop taking payoffs from motorcycle lobbyist and enact a law making helmets mandatory then I can stop taking my eyes off the roadway to read those damn signs, which read, "Start Looking for Motorcycles;" folks in Illinois are 'looking for Lincoln.' While on the helmet subject, I think major league baseball needs to insist all patrons seated in stadium upper decks must wear helmets and be attached to bungee-cords should they purchase more than two beers.

Finally, I truly believe that many of our nation's social problems could be resolved if we would enact a Constitutional amendment that exempts all newborn male children from circumcision but requires they have a vasectomy shortly after birth. Hold your horses before you go nuts thinking that I am a crazy. Listen...at age twenty-three if the male has a full-time job with benefits, $20,000.00 in a savings account and knows twelve(12)  nursery rhymes, his vasectomy is reversed.

Must stop, I have to go collect eggs and feed the chickens.

Wish My Kids Read My Rants

Several days ago, I was attempting to debate the down side of capitalism with one of my children when the offspring snapped at me and stated, in no uncertain terms, "I don't want to hear it!" Simply stated, 'capitalism is an economic system where goods and services are brought to the market place and sold for profit.' Sounds fair and reasonable but there are exceptions that 'PISS' me off.

At 6:47 this morning, I went to the nearby Wal Mart for a few items, namely milk. There was not one cashier working but instead four (4) self-service pods were lined up with folks attempting to negotiate their purchase while a little female employee ran from one pod to another assisting those with various self-cashier skills. When my turn at the self-conveyor machine, I shouted across two lanes, "Would someone please check me out and bag these products I wish to buy?" The young girl came to me and said, "I'll help you learn how to do this sir, it's easy." I replied, "I don't want to learn how to do a job that is being denied to someone who needs a job just so some fat-ass corporate guys can make more money!!"

Let me elaborate. This younger generation can be duped into this bull crap but I shall 'hold-out' until death. Last week, I met with a 40-something year old mother who recently lost her job as a newspaper design technician along with two other newspaper employees of 18-plus years; the three jobs were outsourced to India...hooray for capitalism. When I first began driving an automobile the service station attendant came to my car with a co-worker. One filled my car with gasoline and washed ALL exterior windows and then swept out the floorboard of my car while the other guy checked my oil and tire pressure. You all know the 'routine' today when purchasing gasoline and you also know damn-well that the price of gasoline can differ as much as twenty-five cents at two service stations blocks apart...hooray for capitalism.

Governor Scott Walker, Wisconsin, is one of the new champions of the conservative political cause;  the fat-cat corporate guys love Walker...he breaks the labor unions thus creating more capital gain. Look, I believe in our American free market capitalism economy but only when 'controls' are in place to protect the small voices in our beloved US of A.

After my Wal Mart rant two gents approached me in parking lot to commend my stance at the self-checkout lanes. I wanted to smack them up aside the head and tell them to 'grow a set of balls.'

Yer Out!

Baseball umpiring is NOT an easy-to-do activity. It is especially challenging for the 'home-plate-umpire' who must make a judgment call on nearly 200 pitches per game. Then there can be those weired and unexpected 'plays' or sudden 'bang-bang' plays; it ain't easy umpiring baseball. From 1970 through 1981, I umpire high school and college baseball. I suppose that I umpired for a couple of reasons: (1) Baseball was always my first love and as a former pitcher, I was always a control-freak and consequently found baseball umpiring an arena-release, (2), I believed that I was 'good' umpiring and (3), I could always use a few extra bucks. In 1978, I umpired the Division II World Series.

As an umpire, I swam against the current. I'll explain. If you watch much professional baseball you will notice most umpires have a very small strike zone, which favors the hitter because it sells more tickets to the desires of the baseball-knowledge challenged fan who cannot appreciate low scoring games. Baseball games with scores of 1o-to-8 with 23 base hits four home runs and nine pitching changes  takes longer to play, which allows more beer sales; the only down side is drunks falling out of the upper deck in the seventh inning. I called the 'rule-book' strike zone!!!

Some funny stuff happens on the baseball diamond. I recall umpiring a high school game  (late 1970's) at Cahokia, Illinois with East St. Louis. Entering the top of the seventh (last) inning, East St. Louis trailed host Cahokia 7-4 when East St. Louis put the first two batters on base with no outs. Are you ready to follow the unexpected? The next East Side batter blasted a pitch headed for the centerfield fence. As the Cahokia outfielder turned and raced towards the fly ball, both runners were off and running to third and second bases respectively; in fact each runner had rounded those bases when the Cahokia outfielder made a phenomenal over-the-shoulder' catch. The runner who had rounded second retraced his steps and was returning to first base when the relay throw from the outfield to the shortstop doubled up the runner at first base. NOTE: WE SUDDENLY HAVE TWO OUTS! I then noticed the runner who rounded third base had returned to second but as his teammate is put out at first this runner at second begins to 'run-towards' home plate directly OVER the pitchers mound (I shit you not). The Cahokia first baseman threw the ball home to his catcher who watches the East St. Louis runner slide by his tag. Of course I bellowed, "You're OUT!" The runner jumped to his feet claiming he was not tagged and he was correct; he was NOT tagged. I explained to the boy that he ran out of the base path but he insisted that he had 'touched third base once and did not need to run  there AGAIN!' Some kids never grasp the rules of play; their thinking is ass backwards!

Is Everybody Happy?

Anytime I travel down interstate 270 at the Glen Carbon / Edwardsville exits, I am always fascinated by the huge church billboard that reads: 'A Church for THIS Generation!' Accompanying the message is a large family photo of the church's Pastor, wife and two kids; attractive folks with warm smiles. The very first time that I noticed the billboard-photo it reminded me of the 'Brady Bunch.'

There is some thing troubling about the billboard-message...at least that's my take...let me wrestle with the thought in this rant. All Christian Churches embrace (1) the teachings of Jesus Christ and (2) the members adhere to the Church-belief doctrine. If there is a Church for THIS Generation then the Church of my generation must have had some thing wrong. Did we old-time-religion-folks interpret Jesus' words incorrectly? Perhaps the way we went about our worshiping was a wrong-minded approach.

 I came to a conclusion and as many of my resolves, I am likely all wet and it's not from my Baptism. Consider, if you please, there are many new ways of this NOW GENERATION. Once upon a time (in my generation) medical doctors made house calls. Today, I sit in a waiting room for long periods of time to see my doctor. Then my doctor tells me I need to see a specialist or have test and this requires me to talk with someone in another State to get 'insurance approval.' My generation was in awe of policeman and respectful of teachers. This 'New' generation has figured out the policemen are 'pigs' and teachers are at fault for underachieving children.

I notice a lot of now generation folks have a common concept; they grew up thinking the sun pops out of their ass every morning giving us light. Today's NOW church-going generation expects and only accepts 'comfort!'

Many Church leaders came to believe that folks were not going to attend church if the preacher kept telling people they would go to Hell for unrepentant sins. That message creates uneasiness and watch 'checking' in God's house. Also, suggesting that a good church member tithes is an unpopular concept. Therefore, we began hearing those 'feel-good' sermons and less talk about giving money.  On the 'road-to-the-now-generation-church, we brought 'Junior's' drums and guitar so e could have contemporary music instead of those old gospel songs. Many 'Now' generation church messages are somewhat like Fox News, 'fair and balance,'  Matter-of-fact, the  Fox News theme usually suggests that 'white' Republicans are  born again Christians headed for Heaven and Democrats are heathens headed for Hell.

I'll look for you in church this Sunday...I go early so that I can eat some donut holes and have a cup of coffee and take it into the sanctuary before all the 'good' seats in the back pews are taken. I sure do like those 'new' pew cushions.

Sing Your Song

Congratulations to all those parents who survived another summer with kids under feet. Those young ones are back in school and parents can now aim for more 'routine-stability,' although given youth activity schedules, parents are winter-time cab drivers. Each one of our three adult children will be sending a grandchild off to college this fall. This is never an easy moment in that parent-child relationship; tears will likely flow and for certain... 'things' and relationships change.

I recall when I left home for that first year (1957) at Illinois State University. When I returned home at the Thanksgiving break, my mother had made significant changes to that which was once my room; suffice to say their was little evidence that I had ever lived in the home. The drastic home-environment changes caused me to wonder just how long mother had been contemplating my departure. Another thing that I noticed over time, while attending college; my relatives let it be known to me that I had adopted many 'liberal ideas.' I would NOT argue their claim. The interesting thing was that many of my 'new-found' liberal views coincided with parents & family teachings of Jesus Christ; especially when it comes to tolerance for others. However, my very staunch Christian family members never could connect those dots; go figure!

Speaking of tolerance or perhaps intolerance, I returned from the Target Store yesterday afternoon where I had picked up a prescription. There were several people waiting in line at the druggist counter. I noticed one elderly gentleman holding tightly to an empty shopping cart while his health care assistant was completing her transaction. The gentleman was either suffering from dementia or some other brain altering malady. He kept singing the same chorus line from the 'Battle Hymn of the Republic.' He had the tune down good but his words got out of order often. He was oblivious to his whereabouts and those around him but continued singing loudly. His nurse kept garnering him as he tended to drift away from her side. Finely a younger man nearby said to the nurse, "Could you please stop him from singing, it's irritating?" I wanted to tell the intolerant young fella that he was an asshole but I bit my tongue. The nurse reminded her patient several times to stop singing but after a brief pause 'Mike' would rev up his song once again. As the health care lady completed her business and walked away, I shouted to 'singing Mike,' "Mike you keep singing that song...never stop."

Once I had finished my prescription business, I turned to leave and just could not resist; I was tired of biting my tongue. I said to the young man who was irritated by the singing, "You are a ASSHOLE!" I know that my comment was not very Christian-like; you see I too am 'intolerant' of some people; mainly ASSHOLES.

Gotta Do What I Gotta Do

I will go back to Destin, Florida for vacation but not without my Toy Poodle, 'Yodie;' take THAT to the bank. I missed my dog those ten days we were away. He was in good hands with friends and I am sure he did just fine but I missed my dog.

The Florida folks kinda piss me off. Let me explain: Dog racing in the 'Sunshine State' is a big business and historians will document rather harsh and cruel treatment of those beautiful Greyhounds that race and make folks money. On the flip side of that attitude towards man's best friend' you cannot easily find vacation rental property accepting pets. The general Florida attitude towards the Yodie's of the world 'sucks.'

I was explaining my frustration to a gentleman who operates vacation rentals and told him the following story;  "We had a family miniature poodle named Gigi when our kids were growing up. Gigi was perhaps the most precious dog the Roustio's ever had and we have had some great pups. When our girls were five and seven years old they would dress Gigi in doll clothes and push her around in a doll-size buggy. Gigi had one litter of pups and demonstrated wonderful mothering instincts. If Gigi was not being attended to by our daughters, she was curled up on the couch next to my wife.

Our oldest daughter was a senior in high school and our youngest daughter was a sophomore when we had to put Gigi down. Gigi was seventeen years old and suffered from poor vision.  One afternoon Gigi heard a roaring noise and ran from an open door onto our street where she was struck by a motor cycle. Her injuries were devastating but, of course the Roustios made a run at saving their beloved pet. Our Jacksonville veterinarian, John Allan Ebrey said that the dog should not have survived the night but Gigi did. In fact, the Vet made a good observation claiming that it is his opinion many older dogs will cling to life against improbable odds as if they seemingly feel that should they 'give-up' the fight they are betraying their family."  I cried that day and when I finished with my story the vacation rental guy had tears in his eyes and a beautiful three bedroom Destin house for us to rent in the future that welcomes my buddy, Yodie.

Let me assure you readers that is a factual story!  I do not lie about my dogs or my East St. Louis youth.

You Hope Even For Strangers

Sorry about the absence lately. Gerry and I spent some time away from the homestead in the sunny south on Destin, Florida's white- sandy beaches. We stayed at The Inn @ Crystal Beach; I'd recommend it to all. Destin was once a matter-of-fact, clumsy-messy fishing village and today it is a thriving metropolis of recreational, shopping and eatery offerings. During the week long stay, we witnessed two beach-weddings and unfortunately a possible drowning; hope that I am wrong on the latter but the indicators were all present.

The first day at the condo, I was taking the elevator down to do my first of many walks; I overheard a young married couple with a toddler daughter fussing with each other. A few days later while talking with the young husband, I got all kinds of signals that this marriage was in 'trouble.' Naturally, as the week progressed, I had an eye on the pair and on occasion, I spoke with each independently as well as together. ON the second to last day, the sea waves were particularly strong and high. Most people who ventured very far into the waters had difficulty standing against the relentless waves bashing towards the shoreline. I noticed my 'fussing couple' holding each others hand and dropping their heads towards the oncoming waves in an attempt to stand the tide's pressure and wade farther out into the seas.

On the last day, I was going into the garage area to garner a luggage carryall when I met the 'quarrelling' couple as they headed towards their automobile; I could not help but seize the opportunity to make a statement and MAKE my point. I wished them adieu and best of luck. I suggested that they take care of their beautiful daughter and enjoy her growing up. I then made reference to watching them a couple days earlier when they held hands and put their heads together towards the strong waves; I told them, "As I watched you guys that day, I thought how symbolic your efforts were to the challenges of life facing any young couple. This life's journey is pretty much like those waves (at times) and the only way we survive is to hold hands and meet the challenges head on with determination." I hope they can survive their tides.

I also noticed another beach-phenomenon. More and more young and old women have tattoos. Some have so many tattoos that it caused me to wonder what other idiotic, stupid choice did that gal make that particular drunken night.

Only The Strong _____________!

I recall a few years ago an educational story out of Australia about a heated debate concerning its schools' grading system. It appeared that a group of folks no longer wanted teachers to use the grading letter, 'F.' Too harsh many stated. The letter 'F' should be replaced by the letter 'H,' which would indicate, student 'HELD.' I suppose that some parents did not like the fact that their kid was given 'F' indicating the consequence of failing a subject. Mommies and daddies wanted junior to be 'held' in abeyance. This resting 'grade-pause' is kinda like purgatory; it ain't heaven but it ain't hell...it is a undisclosed and undefined 'holding' place. I suppose this undetermined 'place' still renders 'hope.'

These new-thinking child-crippling-philosophies also suggested that teachers should no longer use 'red' pens when marking on a student's paper. The color red is too 'aggressive' and offends the kid's self-worth when it appears on returned test papers or homework. The teachers were encouraged to use the softer and 'cooler' color 'blue' when marking on student papers.

It seems to me that folks keep coming up with more ways to delay young people from becoming aware of success and failure's relationship to relentless efforts, determination and preparation. The real world gives a rat's ass about individual feelings. Most factories pay the hourly wage predicated on punching the time-clock and producing under the watchful and critical eye(s) of the boss.

I thought my wife and I did our kids a favor reinforcing the reality that consequences are found at the end of all actions and choices; some good some bad...figure it out and the earlier the better.

Note: I must tend to some family matters; shall be posting in a few days.